May this moment of deep unrest be the fever that serves to heal us.
~ Marianne Williamson
I’m realizing that I’m trying to craft a response to something that cannot be responded to within the confines of language. But without language, how do I serve and communicate? Words matter. Yes, words matter. They can start wars and make us fall in love. But what is really happening?
I am continually and abruptly being brought back into the reality that I live in a world where people don’t see themselves or each other as spiritual beings having a human experience. You see, we all have a piece of the divine in us. We enter this dimension here in our exquisite, unique beauty. We are all a segment of the larger whole. We all come from the same place. I believe this in my heart to be true true true. I am also aware that my heart is breaking.
It IS always darkest before the dawn. Those here in life protesting, speaking up, standing out, saying ENOUGH! I wonder if they understand how important they are. George Floyd may have never thought in his earth life that he would spark such change, such fury, such exposure. Black Lives Matter. You bet your ass they do.
The throbbing, heaving, breathlessness of society , of the collective, is rising higher and higher with each murder of a black human by a white human. You can’t say you don’t see color. It’s part of our gift. It’s part of our beauty. Color is there so we can appreciate and revel in each others luminosity. But something went wrong. Instead, we let what is supposed to be so beautiful create a cravasse so big, that we can only hear our own words echoing off the canyon walls.
So instead, lets gather – 6 feet apart, with our masks on , with hand sanitizer in our pocket. In your prayer or mediation, see yourself holding hands with each beautiful, creative, loving, strong human next to you. Put down the guns, the batons, like so many have already. See the luminosity of the fellow human next to you. Feel the pulse of humanity running through you, connecting all of us together.