divided = conquered

Every day we choose to be less united.

In 2010, I was fortunate enough to work with an organization that sent their community organizers to the US Social Forum in Detroit, Michigan. It was so beautiful to see so many folks who had dedicated their lives to improving life for all of us in the USA. We were there in mass force, to both learn from each other and see how capitalism unchecked (and maybe capitalism in general) can leave an entire city full of human beings incapacitated and at a loss. We got to see how the folks in Detroit were faring under the inhumanity allowed to thrive when large corporations are not governed by the people appropriately, when a company’s success does not belong to the people who created it.

We also got to see how even though so many people were giving their lives to fight inhumanity, inhumanity was flourishing. And, flourishing. And… flourishing.

While there, I became increasingly saddened. Where was the collective power of 100s and 1000s of non-profits formed to address greed? It didn’t really exist. And as long as we all separated our work, it wasn’t going to.

It’s now 2021 and the observation stands.

If you don’t stop nourishing the root of a problem, the problem never goes away and the life it feeds only grows stronger. We use capitalistic mentalities to fight capitalism. We use greedy mentalities to fight greed. We use inhuman strategies to fight inhumanity.

We don’t make sense.

Recently, a new term that could be used to describe me became popular: BIPOC. It’s POC with the B and I extrapolated and centered. I don’t know why. I guess the B and the I are supposed to be more important?

No, that can’t be it. All POC matter and are in the same frying pan, even if some are geographically closer to the center, the part directly above the flame. All POC are in the same oil, all burning to death in the same, hot grease.

But that’s what happens when inauthentic power becomes the lens through which everyone looks, including the blind. More divisions and less solidarity. More ways to center one group’s plight when everyone is dying from the same imbalance.

I think of this every time I discuss identity with someone. Why are we always searching for more identities to attach to? Who taught us this is wise and/or necessary? What is the use of identities outside of oppression dynamics and power plays?

I am a human being. That is my only true identity. We’ve discovered sexuality is a spectrum, so why keep dividing ourselves because of it? We’ve discovered gender and race are social constructs, so why keep dividing ourselves into groups accordingly?

How can we progress if we’re constantly dividing ourselves into smaller factions? Who has ever heard of a single individual wielding as much power as a collective? Who has ever heard of a single collective wielding as much power as a collection of collectives?

Oppressors understand this. That’s why they band together. They know that their shared value of suppressing you is more important than the various ways they might disagree over how to accomplish the task. They make room for a variety of harms and we divvy up responsibility for those harms while they laugh.

I await the day we collectively realize that we are only stronger together. And, not when we decide that we’ll give you the mantle for the day and hold it ourselves another day, but when we honestly say, “We are all dying together. Maybe we should stop concentrate on who is dying first or last or worst and focus upon living.”

A divided people are a conquered people. What’s the point of literacy if we never understand our history lessons?

why aren’t you taking over the world?

This question is one I ask people regularly. I’m often flummoxed by how many of us aren’t aware that we are the only true authorities (authors) of our lives. The system, as we call it, only has power because we have collectively given our power to it. Every day, we make this choice and tell ourselves it’s not a choice at all.

The story below is one I think more of us should read. Too many of us think power is a lot like having a magic genie at our disposal. If we can’t see change immediately, or at least within a few months, then change isn’t something we continue to believe in.

That’s not how change works, at all. It’s as if the stories we created to give us hope have become weapons we prefer to wield against ourselves and each other. Magic isn’t real, magic isn’t true, magic isn’t science.

We forget that science is a method, not a thing. We treat science like religion, even though we love to hate religion. We live out of balance with our own beliefs, because we forgot that beliefs are nothing more than thoughts we’ve decided must be pinned down.

True science, not the romanticized science that so many of us cling to, would tell us that change takes time but that doesn’t necessarily make it less magical. Indeed, science could never give us the exact formula or causes for change. It could never spell out exactly how it happens. The mystery is what we often call magic and true science leaves room for mystery. True science knows the observable world is not all there is to know, even as it prioritizes it.

Science never wanted to be our new God, but we’ve deified it, anyway.

Read the article here. Click on it. Take in the story, the mystery, the magic of how change has happened and continues to happen. Remember that there is no formula that can guarantee that life always turns out the way we want it to, but there is no way that life will turn out the way we want it to if we don’t decide to do something. Possibly, we’ll need to keep doing that something for days, weeks, months, years. Sometimes, decades. And, one day, we will see the result of all that energetic stability.

Society will act like change is amazing. Because it is. But, mostly, it’s just a result of how power works. And what could be more magical than power?

Kamala wasn’t the first?

In this interesting read, you will learn about the first non-white Vice-President of the United States of America.

His legacy is problematic and he definitely ushered in a lot of policies that are still harming those of us with Indigenous ancestry. However, it’s important to acknowledge history so that we can learn from it and hold ourselves accountable for the changes we need to make.

Click here to read the article.

cue the Scorpios

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be me and what it means to navigate how people interact with this being we all call me.

As a Scorpio Sun, I got used to being a polarizing force in the world. It took me a while to acknowledge that certain things just aren’t really about us personally. There’s a certain vibration that we came into the world with and that vibration doesn’t always align easily with the vibrations of those around us.

If you’ve ever been pregnant, you probably know that. If you’ve been pregnant multiple times, you probably had a pregnancy or two where you didn’t feel like yourself. You were different, you felt different. It’s like you changed personalities. That’s the power of having another being forming inside your body. Your energies are contained in the same space and they aren’t always a vibrational match. It happens.

This happens with all relationships. Maybe when you met each other, you vibed. But, over time (sometimes just a few hours or days!), you stopped vibin’. You felt that you were out of sync. It can feel disheartening, annoying, frustrating to feel out of sync with someone. From those feelings, maybe you try to change yourself so that you’re back in vibrational alignment with that person. Maybe you just move on.

The thing about having babies is that that vibration comes out of your body and you still have to deal with it. For at least 18 more years, if you’re lucky.

That’s why parenting can feel like the hardest work ever. It’s the relationship that NEVER ends, even if someone dies or becomes estranged. You carry it around with you; you walk within it like a sack. So many good Scorpionic analogies for this sack. Embryonic sack? Body bag? Like, whatever floats your boat. Some days, it’s one. Some days, it’s the other. Some kids feel more like death than life. I’m just sayin’… life is whatever. Vibrations come. Thoughts come. We don’t have to get stuck in a particular vibrational relationship, but so often we do. Sometimes, it feels like body wading through almost dry mud in the desert to be in relationship with someone… even one’s own child.

You honor it, you feel it, and, if you’re able, you shift out of it. Maybe just to shift back into it at another time.

That’s how energy works. It just moves. It’s only a problem when it gets stuck. Even then, it’s not the energy that’s the problem… whatever is blocking the energy or causing you to feel stuck is the issue. Unless you enjoy feeling stuck. Some folks do. I’m not here to disparage your tendencies. I’m just here to get you to look at them. Navel gazing is work, too.

Parents also affect the vibrations of their kids. Maybe you gave birth to an amazingly dynamic being who was really fluid in identity, but your own identity problems have you messing up your kid’s relationship with identity. It happens every day. We have influence and impact, and not always in the ways that feel beneficial in the long-run.

I’ve had people (women, really) stop being in my life because my energy felt too motherly to them. I’ve had people (men, really) get angry with me for rejecting them because they were actually looking for a mother, not a friend or other mutually satisfying healthy arrangement.

At the end of the day, each of us is really only interacting with the aspects of ourselves that we see reflected in others, whether that’s for ick or yum. I’ve been questioning how true that statement is and I just keep coming up with IT IS TRUE OMG WHY IS THAT SO TRUUUUUUEEEEE. Because I can only really see the parts of you that I have experience with.

Have you heard the story of how when Christopher Columbus came to this part of the planet (North America), at first the Indigenous folks couldn’t see the ships? They had no frame of reference for ships, so they could see that the wave patterns in the ocean were weird and they’d stare at the ocean trying to figure out what was going on, but they literally couldn’t see the ships that were causing the patterns. Isn’t that AMAZING?

And, that’s how we all are. We can’t see what we have no frame of reference for.

Cue the Scorpios. We provide a frame of reference, an experience, that people sometimes (often?) aren’t ready for… “good” or “bad”. And, that seeing can feel icky at times. And, folks get mad at us. I don’t blame them. We can feel like an astrological burden.

But, at the end of the day, wouldn’t you rather know than not know? (Some of y’all are like… NO! Which is why you’re here.)

Seriously, though… life is SO BEAUTIFUL. Even the ugly parts offer a much desired contrast. Let the polarizing aspects of others shine a light on the polarizing aspects of yourself. Let your dislikes shake you up and make room for more beauty in your life.

Death = Life. Life = Death. It really is like that.

Now, why am I sharing all this? Today is Inauguration Day in the USA. Too many Americans are angry; too many Americans are relieved. Those energies will not shift anything.

This is the time to let the darkness illuminate for us just how dark things have been. This is the time to feel blinded by the light and recognize that we are not walking toward it. Don’t become docile in the face of moving forward 1/2 a step after falling down a flight of stairs.

We are living in a truly Scorpionic moment in time. Channel your inner Scorpio. Become willing to be polarizing, as long as you know you are operating from Truth and Love (and the more significant of these is Love). Stop allowing a little good to placate you. Demand more good. Demand more justice. Demand more shutting up of the stupid people around you who want to let the American standard remain low.

This is our country. Find your inner Scorpio and push your way to the front of the line of folks who don’t know their worth. And, then turn around at the front of the line and shout something Scorpionic like: HEY! Y’ALL ARE GOING TO LIVE A BETTER LIFE IF I GOTTA SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROATS!

Cuz sometimes people don’t even know that’s an option. Not really. Not these days.

Join us polarizing Scorpios. We don’t care about your feelings, because we know feelings are just energy. They change.

And, so can this country. Because this country is comprised of you.

***fine print: When you get to the Kali portion of the Scorpionic journey, please make sure you have a Taurean friend with you. They’re the only ones stubborn and forceful and heavy enough to knock a Scorpio over and keep the energy having sex instead of causing wholesale destruction. If you see someone exercising long-term Scorpionic authority without a cow (Taurus) nearby, run. Everyone is about to die. Balance is key, folks!***

sometimes, love feels heavy

I have been thinking a lot about relationships.

Relationships are a part of life and I love relationships… in theory. In my personal life, relationships have astonished me with how messy they are. I’ve often been able to visualize healthier ways for situations to go, but in the moment of contrast, things can get pretty strange and uncomfortable.

I’ve noticed that a lot of us are walking in active trauma. From that active trauma, we’re trying to create relationships that feel beautiful and nourishing and safe.

But, love isn’t safe.

As someone who tends to love “too much”, I’ve been surprised by certain invitations to heartbreak. Friends have been less than friendly, children have been less than child-like. Relationships are intense and amazing and tricky. If you are someone who wants and encourages people to be their full self in relationship with you, you have to hold space for the fact that sometimes that “full self” wants nothing to do with you and your desires around relationship.

In this season of my life, I’m aware that love isn’t safe. I don’t have to blinded by love in order deal with someone’s less than stellar attributes. I can see the person clearly, with all their faults, and still love them and accept them.

But, not everyone is in that space. And, the part of relationships that I’ve been noticing and working with over the past decade is being able to endure the limitations people in my life have around love and not letting it diminish either my light or my love.

For most of my life, I was surrounded by people who viewed love as a transaction. Transactional love encompasses a lot of limitations, as it is rooted in a normalization of deficiency. What happens when you don’t agree that love has anything to do with deficiency?

The typical human being may use love as a tool rather than a way of being. When love is conceptualized as a tool, it will too often be used as a weapon. Don’t allow that reality to dominate your awareness of what love is really about.

Love is abundance and not everyone feels they can carry abundance around. They don’t yet understand that abundance isn’t supposed to be carried. It’s not something you do, it’s something that simply is. It’s not something you choose, it’s reality.

This is why, now, when someone cannot tolerate my love, cannot meet my love with love, I don’t question what I did wrong. I don’t wallow in guilt or shame, confusion or depression. Instead, I continue to walk in love, ready for the next person I come across. And, ready for when that person who rejected me is ready to come back and try, again.

True love is like a light; it is a light. It shines, and its shine is not diminished by the blindness of the person encountering it.

My only prayer is that the blind person is able to see soon and that I am thankful that I was once blind and now can see. Love can feel heavy and blinding when we don’t yet understand what it really is. But, that’s okay. Those of us who know will keep shining.

genitalia. ew.

I want to begin today’s post by apologizing for the direction of the previous post. It went to a place I haven’t allowed myself to go, in writing, for a while: genitalia.

Now, personally, I enjoy genitalia. Tastes vary and all that, but I find genitalia enthralling. In the right context.

The genitalia I shared yesterday was completely out of context. Afterward, I wondered if I should rate that post “M” for mature. Do you still have to do things like that for blogs? Warn people that they contain “mature” themes?

I’m not sure how “mature” a theme genitalia is. All of us have it. There’s no magical age where you suddenly grow genitalia. At least, not once you’ve made it to this side of the moon.

But, all the thinking about that post led me down a dark, spiritual path. I began to ask myself questions like: When did I become someone who pretends genitalia don’t exist?

I have always been decidedly pro-genitalia. I’m what some might have called, in the pre-pro-sex days, overly-sexed. But, about 6 years ago, I decided that my kundalini energy was being blocked and I needed to use the creative juices “down there” to create a life I more thoroughly enjoyed.

I stopped having sex.

Thus began a spiritual journey that has opened me up in a lot of ways and closed me down in a few ways. I’ve enjoyed this part of my journey, but I’ve also realized that good sex is vital to health spirituality. My problem was that I wasn’t having good sex, because I found that I literally couldn’t stand the people I was having sex with. They were needy and selfish and lacked integrity. I figured if that’s who I was attracted to, that’s what I needed to clear up within.

That’s my ultimate spiritual practice. If I like you and you are problematic, I feel safe assuming I’m problematic in similar ways, and I’m going to realign.

I’ve been realigning diligently. And, now, I feel appropriately realigned for whatever is next in my journey. I imagine the sharing of saliva is upcoming and the very idea grosses me out.

We all have our thing. I’ve always rathered have sex with someone than kiss them. Kissing seems far more intimate.

But, I digress…

I’ve been pondering the intersection of a highly spiritual practice and the sharing of genitalia. It can get very messy. There are so many stories of sexual perversion among spiritual “masters” and the like that it becomes imperative that we more passionate beings scrutinize our desires and intentions.

But, there’s also the matter of recognizing that some people think sexuality and spirituality should have nothing to do with one another, and in their own sense of deviation, label things perverse which are perfectly normal and natural.

As usual, the things which make us most human are not so simple to comprehend or decipher. We just have to do our own work. We just have to trust the path we’re on. The way is not about a destination so much as a traveling method. The destination appears and is left behind many, many times along the journey.

I’m not going to lie. I often wonder if my favorite spiritual teachers have sex and, if so, with whom. Like… it seems like I can’t trust you if you’re not sexual, so I assume you are, and I think a huge part of knowing if you should even be listened to is how you think about and behave within a sexual context. I would never trust a life-long celibate person to give me spiritual advice. I think that’s insane. Celibacy is a tool, not a work.

But, in the spiritual paths, we don’t really talk about sex unless we’re in-person or someone’s proclivities and/or unfortunate choices are being dragged through the mud. We want to separate sex and spiritual practice (unless we’re into tantra… which is whole other conversation. I’ve studied tantra and I think it’s been warped, as a path), and that’s not human.

So, yeah. Genitalia. It’s a beautiful concept that I think I’m ready to touch on, again. Haha! I crack myself up.

But, seriously. The genitalia’s alright. It exists. It has a purpose. I think it’s time to stop basking in the glow of our misalignment with regard to human sexuality. We’re either doing too much or too little. Just as I found out about The Beauty Way, The Way of the Horse, and The Way of the Desert, I will find out about the non-tantric Way of the Genitalia.

Or create it myself.

Homeschooling is boring… and other Legit Laments of the Criminally Young

Being a kid is an unjust position.  

Kids have no legal say over anything that goes on in their lives. They are dragged behind the adults of their lives like mentally disadvantaged ducklings. Ducklings walk, but that’s only a technicality. Where would they go without the Mama Duck? They’d get lost and possibly consumed.

This is our fear with human children, too, is it not?

I want my youngest child to get neither lost nor consumed, so we returned to homeschooling during this global pandemic.

And, we hates it.

We are both the kinds of people who become bored very easily. Our minds are whirlwinds of activity and the world cannot keep up. We are creative to the point of hypertension. We have a minimum of three projects going at a time.

You know the type. We read while we eat, because God forbid we only have one thing to do. People who only do one thing at a time cannot be trusted. We are protective of our trustworthiness.

We think at least five thoughts simultaneously. We’ve had multiple conversations about this. It is our norm and we pity people whose minds are quieter and, thus, disinteresting. We are not disinteresting. Ever.

Instead, we are disinterested.

You might think homeschooling would align perfectly with characters such as this. Alas, you would be mistaken. After taking time to enjoy how your wrongness feels in our bodies, we would assure you that homeschooling feels like absolute drudgery when there is a pandemic and you hate looking at people wearing masks, either literal or metaphorical.  Luckily, our town has other homeschoolers and they are meeting at a park weekly. However, with a work schedule more rigid than I’d like and a park incident that left my kid feeling like friends are less desirable than new books, we have stopped attending Park Day.

The kid is a tween and firmly within the emotional gestalt of the teen years. She is all things passionate and self-identifies as gothic. This direction is encouraged by Mama Duck only because it is amusing and keeps said child from interrupting her 1000 times per day. We’re down to 150 interruptions per day, max, and life feels manageable, again.

Manageably boring.

I would like to say I am the sort who takes on new tasks and learns new things when confronted by boredom. Unfortunately, I must admit I am more the type who moans and whines and types out long blog posts about the limitations of, not my imagination, but my situation. My imagination is fine. I have imagined at least five ways I would appreciate dying and mentally written two eulogies that neither reflect the generosity of my spirit nor deflect from how utterly boring I found life.

I asked my therapist if she thought I was depressed. Turns out we agree that I’m simply entitled.

I thought my life would be more interesting than this once I hit my 40s. I expected it. No one predicted a global pandemic. We were simply supposed to die from starvation and capitalistic greed; not holed up at home afraid of our neighbor’s spittle.

This is all simply too mundane, this pandemic. Homeschooling during a pandemic is a good way to kill me. It’s unexpected, this twist.

Score one for the Universe. My kid and I are dying of opulent and overly-nourished boredom.

I guess, though, that I’ve lied to you. I have tried new things. I’m currently participating in an expensive online attempt to snag a husband-like creature. I figure that if I must die, there should be a penis in my vagina. Or evidence of such within a reasonable time-frame.

A rose quartz dildo cannot be my final penetrant. I’d rather be gored to death by a raging rhino than die sexless during a pandemic. There must be some hormonal proof that I was riled up by something other than the tedium of fifth-grade grammar.

There must.

[untitled]

i am loving and beautiful,

gathered from dewy moss

and agate

construed of misconceptions

and delight;

i am loving and beautiful,

amassed of a weightlessness similar to that of

light,

a heaviness saturated with

darkness and

the satisfaction of invisibility;

I am loving and beautiful,

fertile soil for half-germinated beginnings

and

gravel for virgin soles.

I am loving and beautiful,

and you will

adore me for it

all.

walk in beauty

Walking in Beauty: Closing Prayer from the Navajo Way Blessing Ceremony
In beauty I walk
With beauty before me I walk
With beauty behind me I walk
With beauty above me I walk
With beauty around me I walk
It has become beauty again
Hózhóogo naasháa dooShitsijí’ hózhóogo naasháa dooShikéédéé hózhóogo naasháa dooShideigi hózhóogo naasháa dooT’áá altso shinaagóó hózhóogo naasháa dooHózhó náhásdlíí’Hózhó náhásdlíí’Hózhó náhásdlíí’Hózhó náhásdlíí’
Today I will walk out, today everything negative will leave me
I will be as I was before, I will have a cool breeze over my body.
I will have a light body, I will be happy forever, nothing will hinder me.
I walk with beauty before me. I walk with beauty behind me.
I walk with beauty below me. I walk with beauty above me.
I walk with beauty around me. My words will be beautiful.
In beauty all day long may I walk.
Through the returning seasons, may I walk.
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.
With dew about my feet, may I walk.
With beauty before me may I walk.
With beauty behind me may I walk.
With beauty below me may I walk.
With beauty above me may I walk.
With beauty all around me may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk.
In old age wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk.
My words will be beautiful…

shared from here