Sister, I see you.

ChooseLoveSister, I see you.

Holding your handmade signs and shouting words of anger and frustration at the young woman walking past, using your voice to inflict pain on another wounded soul. I wonder if you’ve given any thought to the woman who might hear the words coming from your mouth.

The scared teenager, desperate to break the cycle of abusive relationships and poverty, trembles under the weight of her decision. She has for the first time, seen her own value and taken responsibility for herself. In that instant, her path shifts and her purpose solidifies. She will eventually go on to impact the lives of other young women but first she must lift the blanket of shame your words have thrown over her.

Sister, I see you.

Hiding safely behind your computer screen, sharing words of condemnation for women you have not met, using your platform to spew hate. Blindly sharing words you have not validated, written by someone you do not know. I wonder if you’ve given any thought to the woman who might read what you have written.

The young mother with the precocious toddler who has just been told her unborn baby has not developed a brain and it matters not at all how very much she wanted this baby or the many months she tried to get pregnant, he will not survive birth. Laws in the state she resides force her to leave her little boy and stay overnight at a hotel in order to safely end a pregnancy she would give her life to save. It is during this horrendous drive that she scrolls her facebook page for distraction and reads your words labeling her a murderer. She will not conceive again and will eventually find joy in the child she has but your words will forever echo.

Sister, I see you.

Sitting in the café, surrounded by friends, chatting righteously about your virtues. Pontificating the holy difference between you and those “other” women. I wonder if you’ve given any thought to the woman sitting next to you quietly absorbing the weight of your judgment.

The friend you assume to know, secretly raped by a man she thought was safe, a well-respected man who wielded power in the community. His power used to silence her much like your words. Holier than thou postures shaming misunderstood choices, building walls where bridges should be.

Sister, I see you.

Sitting in fear of the truth that we are all the same, working furiously to build the case that we are different. Doing our best to navigate this human experience, we are faced with choices designed for our growth. We rank choices as if they have varying levels of value, as if some lessons are more important than others. This is not true. All lessons have value to the learner. It is not our place to judge the lessons of another person. Judgment comes from a place of fear. The ego uses this fear to drown out love, because where love exists, the ego dies. To recognize the connection between us would mean recognizing our own shadow parts and sitting in a space of vulnerability. It is in this space that love exists.

We are the same you and I, created of the same Divine energy, often in need of reminding. We stumble our way through this life doing the best we can at any given moment. Not one of us knowing any more than the other, our obstacles become our foundations, the building blocks on which we stand. Let us not use them to stand against each other. Judgment is a hate filled tool. Lift it not, for its purpose is not to build but only to break.

Together let us end the cycle of division that feeds on labels of judgment. Let us dare to stand face to face and look into the mirror of our sister’s soul seeing the Divine light that joins. And when asked to choose, let us be brave and choose love. For we are more alike than we are unalike.

-namaste

 

To my Fellow Reluctant Activists: we were made for this

 

Lately, I find myself reading news articles, checking source validity, fact-checking video interviews, researching world history, and engaging in political discussions. Over the past few months, I’ve written letters, signed petitions, made phone calls, attended rallies, and marched at our nation’s capitol. My morning routine now consists of at least three phone calls to my representatives and one additional call to “the office of the issue of the day” followed by a tweet and a post that hopefully, in some way, informs others of what I am learning.

None of this comes naturally to me. I’m an introvert. I’m the person who loves snow days because it means I can enjoy quiet time without feeling guilty that I should be engaging with anyone other than “my people.” I’ve yet to reach that point people talk about when they’ve had too many days without human contact and they start to go stir crazy. On the contrary, more than a few hours actively engaged with strangers and I’m in need of isolation to recharge myself. I love sitting in silence and have no need to make conversation to feel connected. I love reading and writing, crocheting and yoga, Hallmark movies and The Andy Griffith Show. I have no desire for suspense or intrigue. I like happy endings…predictable happy endings. At 52 years old and after a lifetime of denial, I was finally comfortable knowing these things about myself and had no desire to change. However, the universe has recently conspired to keep me living in a state of discomfort.

Often, engaged in debate, I find my palms are sweaty and my voice is shaking. I ask myself, “Who is this person who is speaking so passionately about a subject she barely understands?” Politics has never been my area of expertise. Without Ms. Ellis’s Law & Justice lectures and the catchy songs from Schoolhouse Rock, I would be completely clueless as to how our government functions. But what I’m beginning to understand is that passions arise from unexpected places and often it isn’t until we take a step back that we are able to see the interconnectedness of life events.

Molestation and assault may silence a voice but they don’t kill the message. We go through life trying to communicate, stumbling, falling, longing to be heard. We shout. We cry. We whisper. We are ignored, talked-over, dismissed, misunderstood. For a period of time, it may seem as if we have given up. We go through the motions and conform because we’re tired from the struggle. This has, in our history, shown up as generations of women whose voices were lost amidst the noise of the times. Across the globe today, nations of women oppressed, abused, enslaved, and forgotten. Voices are muffled but the message remains, simmering beneath the surface, waiting. Waiting for the day when the pressure is so intense that the fear of speaking pales in comparison to the fear of remaining silent.

Although on the surface it appears to be sudden, the awakening happens slowly. Whispers begin. Thoughts are shared. Words are overheard that strike a cord in people who previously thought they were alone. One by one communities are formed. Voices joined together create volume and people begin to listen. For those who aren’t accustomed to being heard, the feeling is one of power, validation, and respect. Fears are pushed aside and passion takes over. From quivering voices the message begins to seep out into the universe, starting as a rumble and growing to a roar.

This is where I find myself today, empowered by the strength of other women, no longer sitting quietly by while injustice occurs. We may stumble. We may fall. We might be dismissed, talked-over, and misunderstood but we’ve been here before. We have lived in that space of fear and it has shaped us. Like pressure to coal, we’ve emerged stronger and more brilliant, built for this time.

This time, we will not be ignored. We will cry cleansing tears. We will whisper truth to our babies and shout justice into this troubled world. We will reach deep inside our hearts and feel compassion for those who need it most and having seen the darkness, we will bring the light. We will march, and write, and sing, and we will be heard.

And though we may be reluctant activists, we were made for this. img_4331

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2017/02/to-my-fellow-reluctant-activists-we-were-made-for-this/

Happiness is letting go

HappinessSounds easy enough, but what does it mean?

“Happiness is letting go of what you think your life is supposed to look like & celebrating it for everything that it is.”

Most of us have an idea of what our lives are supposed to look like, based on outside influences, culture, family history, media, societal norms, etc. Most of our lives are spent in pursuit of the ideal life defined for us by experiences as we are growing up.

We set personal goals that include things like:

  • attend University, trade school, travel abroad
  • have a prestigious career and rise to executive rank
  • live in the city, suburbs, country
  • buy a house, boat, car
  • be a stay at home mom/dad
  • be an entrepreneur
  • live alone
  • have children
  • get married
  • write a novel, play, poem, blog, song
  • travel the world
  • fall in love

Rarely, if ever, do our goals include things like:

  • raise an autistic child
  • bury a loved one
  • be the primary caregiver of an aging parent
  • declare bankruptcy
  • love an addict
  • live with bi-polar disorder
  • put a violent child/family member out of your home
  • get into an abusive relationship
  • close a failed business
  • get a divorce
  • get laid off
  • have a miscarriage
  • suffer from depression

Yet, despite our best efforts and admirable attempts at the ideal, at some point we will face life situations that are not what we imagined for ourselves.  When this happens, we have two choices.  We can look at the situation and label it as sad, hard, screwed up, sucky, miserable, burdensome, hopeless, dismal, overwhelming, isolating. We can sit in a state of constant pity for ourselves, wallowing in the misery of our situation, believing no one’s life is harder than our own. Focusing on what we see as ‘wrong’ dulls what we think is ‘right’.  In reality, there is no wrong or right, there is only what IS.

The second choice we are given is one of acceptance. Accepting our life as it IS in this moment is the pathway to happiness. Our monkey minds spin around labeling each experience hard/easy, good/bad, lucky/unlucky, success/failure. Accepting that every experience is exactly the experience that we need and every experience comes to us exactly when we need it, liberates us to find gratitude for our life as it IS.

Watching Alzeheimer’s slowly take my grandmother away, there were many days that I wanted to stay home and wallow in self-pity rather than sit with her. Most days she didn’t know my name, she rambled on about her childhood boyfriends and people I never knew. Finding gratitude in those moments saved me. I’m one of the lucky ones who was given the opportunity to know her grandmother as a child, carefree and silly. I became her girlfriend and we chatted about trips she had taken and men she had known. I learned to accept her in the moment, let go of expectation, and be grateful for what I had, not resentful for what I’d lost.

My father died of brain cancer. His illness gave me the chance to reconcile a difficult relationship.

My step-father died of colon cancer. Our conversations deepened and we left nothing unspoken.

My grandfather died suddenly when I was hundreds of miles away.  I didn’t get to say good-bye but I never saw him sick.

The practice of acceptance is done moment by moment, day by day. Some days are easier than others. I look at empty relationships and feel sadness, desiring a deeper connection, but in that moment I remind myself to feel gratitude for the lesson, to accept what the relationships are and to release any expectations I have.

All sorrow is a result of our wanting things to be different than they are – the resistance to what IS. Releasing expectations does not mean that we give up hope. Hope is what remains when we surrender to what IS and celebrate all that we have.