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by Doretta Wildes, ©2012, blogging at DorettaWildes

(Jan. 16, 2012) — The root from which the word “eschatology” comes is Greek. Eskhatos. It means, in a word, Last.

It’s a word that has been on my mind much lately. It just seems that everywhere I look are signs of final events. The last American hope of freedom from searches, seizures and unwarranted imprisonment, for instance, went with the passage of the NDAA. The last vestiges of freedom of expression are being attacked via legislation like the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA). The currencies of sovereign nations are being threatened and devalued. Good food is being extinguished by rampant genetically modified seeds. And deadly influenza viruses are being manufactured in labs, to what end is unclear apart from the obvious: The end.

And it seems that the final war, the nuclear war to end everything, is being hatched by the U.S. and Israel via provocation of Iran and, more to the point, China and Russia.

News like this renders me speechless. This past week, I have been taking comfort in the work of my hands. Knitting scarves. Trying to learn how to knit socks. Domestic and mundane, I know. Yet–such work reminds me that I am human, with opposable thumbs, the cradle of language, music, art and socks. It reminds me also of the structures of our universe, notably the spiral and the helix.

In my frantic search for something hopeful, I turn to crafts, to writing, to my Celtic harp. Each depends on the hands I was given, which are not so much dexterous as restless recently. And from there, I can go somewhere deeper if not safer.

I’m going to take you there, too, if you’re following this, in my next post. I don’t think it will be my last.


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