Category: social justice

Blinders

Blinders

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”- MLK

I’ve been disappointed, though not surprised, at a handful of acquaintances in the “spiritual”, “life coach”, “manifesting” world, all of them white, who call themselves independent thinkers, even progressive, and are actually buying into some of the Trump/Far Right Republican talking points. At first, these have included that having to wear a mask (to help prevent people from dying) is a ruse/plot to control us, hearing things like “Big Government…Bill Gates…pedophile rings…Jeffrey Epstein’s friends (hello, Trump was one of them, when asked about Ghislaine Maxwell he said, twice, “I wish her well”. Don’t get me started.)

This has devolved into “well really, all lives matter because we are all One…just move on from slavery and stop playing the victim…drop your story…just be happy…you can heal yourself…you can never really be harmed”. There’s a term for it now because it’s become so prevalent, GasLightworker.

Yes, most of the pharmaceutical companies are not to be trusted. The power of the mind to heal is a real thing and is actually possible. Love is the answer. In the big picture, everything is working out as it must. We can change our perceptions about our pasts and our futures. Miracles do happen. But that doesn’t mean we get to impose our privilege soaked, spiritual heirarchy mindfuckery onto those who are knee deep in struggle, pain, crisis.

It is insulting, diminishing and disrespectful not only to them, but to those parts of ourselves that have suffered too. No matter how much we improve our ability to feel good, our shadow follows us everywhere. It has a purpose, let’s honor it and the lessons it’s taught us. Acknowledge it’s wisdom to change us; to remember our wounded child. It remains there not to torture us but to free us, so that we can truly be “of service”.

We must, always, put ourselves in other’s shoes who are less fortunate than we are. Then help in any way we can, big or small. Self Mastery is not just standing up for love. It is standing up TO intolerance, hatred, and most insidious, indifference.

What’s especially dangerous about this slippery slope of denial in the “spiritual/personal development” community right now, is the slow dismissing and dehumanizing of the “less evolved”, the poor, the suffering. This is part of what contributed to the rise of Nazi Germany. We must nip this in the bud now when we see it, by not being silent, when those in our own circles show signs of “other”ism, classism, and of course very subtle or blatant racism.

The silence I was met with a few days ago, when I confronted a racist comment in a facebook group I was invited to (“a place for conscious, deep discussions”), was beyond eye opening. That person’s comment remains without anyone else denouncing it.

We didn’t come here for “I got mine”, or to just be “Divine”. We are here to be Humanity too, and to take care of our fellow Earthlings who inhabit it. Therein lies the rub, our greatest challenge.

By shutting our eyes and ears to others pain, be they human animal or non-human animal, to deny our own dark feelings, to stop ourselves from being affected by the world, so we can maintain our “high vibration” and “manifest prosperity”, is to eventually end up in a spiritually bypassing gated community with other people exactly like us. In that mansion, we stop growing, learn nothing, and betray ourselves in the process. That’s not abundance, that’s death in disguise.

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White silence

I live in Marin County. I love all the nature and beauty of the land and I happened to score a very affordable rental (for the Bay Area) years ago. It’s a very wealthy and very white place, with some pockets like Fairfax and others that are known as being progressive but, overall, same old predictable leanings in an area like this. The stark contrast is Marin City, where there is a large black community, living in government subsidized housing; just over the hill and just an exit away from Mill Valley, Sausalito and Tiburon, where luxury homes are everywhere.

I was out driving in San Rafael today, a slightly more diverse town, and saw a group of protesters marching down the street chanting “I can’t breathe!”, with a police escort in front and behind. Traffic was slowed down alongside them as they walked and I drove over and started honking my horn in unison with their chanting.

And folks, almost nobody else was honking. Possibly the easiest, no effort whatsoever way to show support, and you can’t even honk? The defeaning silence of the people in the cars spoke volumes. The black man at the head of the march was looking out at the cars, waiting to hear honking, waiting for solidarity, and he was met with practically nothing. If that doesn’t say it all, I don’t know what will. Not just disappointing and infuriating, heartbreaking.

Those without a voice

There’s a million things I can post about on social media right now, and I know that posting about the plight of animals and the consequences of our actions regarding them can get a collective “oh please, yawn, there’s so many other things to be talking about right now! This is not the time!”

It’s always the time to talk about compassion. We feel compassion for the elderly, the sick, the dying, those who are losing everything, those in the deepest stress and fear of their lives right now, these things that I am feeling on a deep level too. I have a lot of fear too, I’ve been suffering in certain ways too. No one can know the pain in another’s heart. And I hurt for all those around the world who are suffering. And thank God we are finally talking about the things that really matter to us. And if ever there was a time to say “I don’t care anymore how people are going to react to what’s in my heart and what I need to say, no matter how it’s perceived, get over yourself!” it is NOW.

This issue is just one of many passions, there is so much to love in this world, so much beauty; the beauty of animals is one of them. And they are also (like immigrants, like prisoners, like the homeless, like the poor and disenfranchised) the forgotten; dismissed, hurt and thrown away. I’m not a mother, and in lieu of my own child, animals pierce my heart just like a child does. They are innocent, they feel joy, pain and fear too. They just want to live, be free and be with their families.

What is so yearned for in these times is being honest about how we feel and what we’re going through. To say what we must say because it’s more painful not to. is  The planet needs you to be who you are, now more than ever, so that others can know that they can too. Love your fellow Human, reach out and give to your fellow Human. Love your fellow Earthling too.

And please stop eating them, and their milk that was stolen from their babies, as their babies were stolen from them. You can do this for a variety of reasons, for the environment, to prevent another pandemic, for your own health, but to do it for them is the true calling of love. The peace of knowing that you’re doing no harm, and helping Mother Earth and all its inhabitants to heal, is a great relief and empowering strength that no taste pleasure, convenience or cultural pressure can give you.

(art by Lynda Bell)

Spring

When we hit rock bottom, we start to hear the questions we’d never allowed ourselves to ask. And we decide to finally say them out loud.

If healthcare costs for Covid 19 treatment is waived, why do we have to pay for cancer treatment, or any other healthcare costs at all?

If vote by mail is implemented because of Covid 19, making it easier for all of us to vote, why shouldn’t we do vote by mail in every election?

If Amazon or WalMart or other slave labor should suddenly provide their workers with paid sick leave, protective gear, and a liveable wage (because we now realize that how they are treated affects ALL OF US), why shouldn’t all employers have to offer paid sick leave and liveable wages?

If we didn’t like our work, our lives, or our ways of being before, but didn’t change because we were too afraid of what would happen if we did, why did life require a pandemic to force us to think (and FEEL) about that?

Because we weren’t listening, too busy with distraction to hear our own voices.

As I sit here watching the birds taking off, and the trees in the breeze, and the clouds slowly moving across the sun; despite the crazy, despite the death, despite the pain, despite the fear; why do I hear them whisper that this is the best thing that could have happened to the world?

Because the terrifying, unpredictable, beautiful Unknown, in all it’s glorious potential for change, is better than the sleeping numbness of the same old predictable known.

Spring is here, time to wake up.

The Bottom Half

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“To sin by silence, when we should protest, makes cowards of us all.”
-Abraham Lincoln

Donate, protest, keep sharing, exposing and doing what you can. Do the right thing, don’t look away.

That is the top half of freedom. The bottom half hides in a dark well, looking up. Another kind of protest, a quiet conviction FOR something, a belief, a knowing that burns truth and passion into your soul. The thing, or things, the parts of yourself that fascinate and excite you, and scare the shit out of you. The heartfires you want to pursue, the love you want to surrender to, the power you want to inhabit. But you’re afraid to admit it and say it out loud, especially to yourself. Because once you do, you will have to do something about it. It commands your attention. And you know that if you ignore it, you won’t be able to live with yourself.

Eckart Tolle said that his life changing moment came when he heard the words “I can’t live with myself any longer”. The awakened question appeared, “who is the ‘I’ that I can’t live with?”

Who is the ‘I’ that’s talking to the little suffering self that I think is me?

To feel that ‘I’, that voice, the entity that’s watching, is to know it surrounds you and IS you at the same time. That voice, that feeling, knows who you are and what you’re here to be. It speaks louder and feels stronger than who you’re not, while the skittering monkeymind self runs around in a junkyard, trying to drown it out. It bangs on cans and spins circles in the garbage with distractions and arguments. But the “I” inside and all around is incessantly still and patient. It only wants your emergence out of illusion. And it won’t shut up, ever.

The trials of life, and resistance to them, of giving up and starting over, and over again, through it all I begin to hear more of what this other “I” tells me. Especially when what it’s saying pisses me off; because dammit I can’t escape it. The truth has a funny way of backing us into a corner. It nags you in the back seat, and floats around in your depths. Pull it up and to the front, let it breathe fresh air. Fight, thrash and cry with it. Your tears unleash it and will calm you down. The feelings felt, the words finally spoken, this other “I” moves in and takes charge.

Drive where it tells you, take the lid off the well. There’s nowhere to go but beyond what you were. Hidden in dark water, asleep in the dirt; you’ll wake up to the sky, in the garden.

Just Say It

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What is going on? Night before last, one of the best of my life, made my day. But last night, I dreamt I was with a friend and we came into her home to find her dog slaughtered on the kitchen floor. Yet not all the way dead, still breathing, and looking at us “why did you let this happen to me?” What the holy hell. One of the worst nightmares I’ve ever had.

Maybe it was because I’d just seen a clip of a pig being slaughtered, as the USDA just made news yesterday by reinstating “high speed pig slaughter”, one of the most brutal and horrifying deaths a sentient being could have. And thus, the thought of this kind of cruelty being done to gentle, intelligent, innocent pigs, cows and chickens too, and baby cows and chicks and piglets, by the billions every day, and accepted, and hidden within mainstream society; the utter insanity of this melted into my subconscious and I had a dream that it was right in front of me. Thus I was personally devastated by it.

As I am in my waking life, we are all impacted, whether consciously or not, by the depraved industry that is animal agriculture. The horror was not new to me. The first time I started seeing any of it, finally let myself sit through the undercover videos, was about eight years ago. It haunted my dreams then too.

I’ve shared “annoying/extreme vegan activist” stuff, simply the truth behind the lies, on facebook more consistently lately when I feel I must say something, but not for awhile. Right now though, instead of going to work-out and get on with my day, I’m compelled again to share these things. That nightmare was telling me something that I’m still trying to put my finger on. Maybe it’s partly, say what the hell you want to say in this life. Not just about politics, animal rights, spirituality, the environment, oppression of all kinds, but your own story especially.

Speak on anything that’s important, to you! Risk being in the minority, getting criticized and ridiculed, being ignored. In the end, what does it matter? Do I want to live my life being safe, and only sharing things that are easy for people to hear because then I’ll be liked and approved of by everyone? Great. That may temporarily satisfy the ego, but it kills the soul. I need to be liked and approved of by my own self first. And that means being honest. I am love and light, and grief and guilt, and self doubting and fearful, sometimes embarrased and regretful and sometimes there is shame.

But the more I listen and ask myself, what feels right to do, to say? Not for the attention, not to be seen, or liked, but because it’s why I’m here, I can at least know I’m being who I came here to be. Then the joy and inspiration and wanting to share that returns too, because I honored the times when the opposite feelings just needed to be felt; and expressed. No matter who doesn’t like it.

After I wrote and shared about this and other animal issues yesterday, I went to a fitness class in the afternoon.  A woman behind me had this piglet tattoo on her calf; and the woman right next to me was wearing a shirt, with a large photo of her dog that covered her entire chest. The dog’s face had the same eyes, looking at me in my nightmare from the night before. And that affirmation was so much better than a like or a comment. The approval of Spirit, telling me to keep saying what I must, is all I need.