The Book of Mercy (day planner) said “Try to write something” today. I am trying.
Sometimes all the original content we’ve got available to us is our secrets.
I’m processing so hard. So hard. You wouldn’t believe my dreams. Feeling it all is dangerous, which is why mental and emotional health is so critical. Feeling all of these particular things can so easily turn us into monsters without the safeguards we install through our wellness practices.
The temptation to lose our grip is the most tantalizing sensation in existence. Anyone who’s gone too far to the other side of certain things knows that siren song. It’s harder work to come back than it is to just let go and lose ourselves. And then when we become consumed by it we become the ones who feed, consume, drain, and destroy. This truth is another thing which must be felt. Every one of us is capable of becoming a monster even while resisting and battling the destruction of other monsters. The good fight is honorable rhetoric but it is no safer place to be without inner resources to keep us from going too far.
Hate brings with it a chemical dependency. Hate is most deliciously narcotic when it is justified. Every bit as intoxicating as love; maybe even more so. Justified hate is our new opiate.
I can’t tell you I’m coping. Every new day seems to bring a fresh horror before I’ve had the chance to process the day before. And the day before. And the day before. Which makes me think the onslaught is deliberate. Perpetual crisis. Perpetual trauma. It feels tactical.
And every day the affirmation that I am hated for doing something. Hated for doing nothing. Hated for speaking out. Hated for staying silent. Which group of beasts will I either enrage or enable today? With which group’s beastly behavior will I most align today? Because there is no nobility in this.
None. We have officially lost our shit. America has taken baby hostages. Deported their parents; kept the babies. Sending the adults back but keeping the babies captive. Are we going to call them political prisoners? Baby inmates? Not even our lawmakers and peacekeepers are allowed to see these babies. America is allowed to steal babies, drug the babies, and warehouse the babies but America is not allowed to look at the babies. Or help the babies. Twice in the last twelve hours I’ve seen posts on social media from Americans who think we should kill the babies. That we should have executed them at the border with their parents. Which country will come to liberate them from America?
Oh say, can you see?
I didn’t want to write this today. I don’t want this to be true of my country today. Or any day. Or ever. Debating the human rights of babies we took away from parents we are sending away. Seeking asylum in the United States has never been a crime. It’s how most of us got here. All we had to do was show up. Even if we had nothing. All we had to do was get here. And when the freedom process became too big for us to handle in the land of the free; too expensive, too complicated, too cumbersome, too overwhelming, we reformed it by taking it out on babies. The American dream is now a nightmare.
Who can stand this while we keep the Statue of Liberty upright and prominent? She had one job. Just one; to be a symbol of hope and freedom for immigrants.
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Now her relevance to our nation is articulated as an infestation. She’s a lie now. She’s the ultimate bait and switch now.
What else could I write but this?
All I did about it this week was hug people. And cook food. And run some miles and practice yoga. And read as much as I can stomach per day. And not look away. And say my prayers. And pay my bills. And not argue. And refuse to take the bait when people walked into my office to taunt me with news.
I also took photos.
It started with an attempt to produce a TINAS (This Is Not A Selfie). It morphed into something else. The full images can be seen on Instagram. Same name.
It isn’t enough, of course. It’s trite and reductive by comparison. This weird sur-reality where my daily life goes on more or less the same while this happens hundreds of miles from me. Except we have a military base here so it won’t be long.
People, please. Get yourself as well as you can. As fast as you can. Break your dependencies. Get out of debt. Get and take all the help available to you. Do it now. Start now. If you do nothing else, get as well as you can.
Because what would happen to you if you became a refugee? If you become a refugee? How well would you survive? And your children? Taken out of your care and protection. How well would they fare? By the dawn’s early light?