The Dance of Spirit and Social Action
Me at a G20 protest at age 24. You can buy rights to this photo for $500. I see none of that…
As we are thoroughly nestled in this rather intense portal of our coming total solar eclipse in Aries, the shadow of the God of War falls heavily upon every one of us.
The insanity of our over-culture's commitment to war and only war as a means of performing basic global relations is becoming more and more obvious to the general population...
...i.e. those of us who do not financially profit from the confiscation and hoarding of Earth/Gaia's precious resources and the (wage) slave labor of her most vulnerable inhabitants.
I write to you today with an eclipse-season petition from the tenderest part of my heart--
Please do not divorce your spirituality, your self-knowledge, your practices, your dreams, your creation, and your love from the well-being of the glorious, bountiful, and beautiful material world that we all share.
Entering each election cycle, it’s so easy to become confused, heartbroken, and hopeless as we watch the lies, deception, and pre-planned divide-and-conquer soap opera that is global politics.
But tuning out the corporate/military-industrial-owned media does not mean tuning out the cries of our fellow humans and other-than-human inhabitants of this planet we share.
If you will, please allow me to share a little slice of my dance between spiritual and artistic development and activism.
I hope this story inspires you in your own unique path as a powerhouse of beautification of our shared realities.
I spent the majority of my life on this planet as a dedicated social and environmental justice activist.
Growing up with mining-polluted orange streams and having my family's only water source taken by mining led me to seek out as many ways to affect global social change as I could find with a desperation that left me with stomach ulcers at 23 and my hair falling out with thyroid failure by 30.
During my early 20s, I worked as a political and communications consultant for the Democratic Party as well as the AFL-CIO. I even wrote the syllabus and organized a university course on running for office that is still offered at my alma mater.
I also took part in massive (often illegal) protests against the global oligarchy and their policies of economic terrorism and large-scale theft (see photo below);
I also created beautiful performance art, poetry cabarets, sketch comedy productions, and literary journals in cities around the world to unite people in creative solidarity and empower individuals to reach towards self-governance.
(that's me at 24. you can pay $500 rights to use this photo. I don't see any of that money.)
After thyroid failure and autoimmune set in at 30, I turned from hitting-the-streets style activism and towards a deeper commitment to prayer, group ceremony, deep spiritual study, and rigorous daily practice for my health...
...but I never regretted any of my actions, aside from my work as quite literally a well-paid, well-trained liar and emotional manipulator for the Democratic party.
However, I know now that the root of all of our work toward change and beautification in this world must stem from a well-rooted core of self-knowledge…
...particularly in these dangerous times where the illusion of community is used as a tool of manipulation so very effectively by both wings of the American political death bird.
I urge you to sit with the realities of your immediate community, your loved ones, and the pleas of those who are suffering in your sphere and ask your heart, your breath, your guides, and your dreams what can be done on their behalf.
Take action.
Speak up.
Be brave.
Greet fear as an old friend and shake its hand as you move forward towards your goals.
In early November, I sent an email urging my readership to take notice of the catastrophic land and power grab by the global elite that caused both the October 7th attack and the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Click here to read that email on my Instagram if you missed it.
Today I am sharing with you some of the poetic contemplations that have been moving through me as my heart stretches out toward my cherished friends and loved ones in the Levant.
Some of my poetic idols were not only genius mages of the word but were also spiritually developed activists who
fought alongside great revolutionaries,
spent their fortunes on saving war refugees,
and risked their freedom and even their lives to spread revolutionary propaganda that would later insight citizens to take back their freedom their colonizers.
These people inspire me daily in my own actions and writing. I seek their guidance each time I take up my pen. And I hope that before I draw my last breath to leave a legacy worthy of standing alongside their own.
Portraits of the Self-Aware Colonialist
I.
As the rains pass my heart reshapes
itself to the faces of foreign genocide.
And here I am weeping once more
in a foreign café;
my tears staining pages
of foreign poetry;
My heart straining to hold
the foreign song of a sea bird.
II.
Men scatter rice over fields
with too much water
stunting their growth.
Yet men still scatter seed
and work hoes in the earth
For we must try –
try to live.
III.
Ants crawl on my arm
and now as bombs rain down
on towns where children play
I must speak so gently
to these small creatures
So gently, as life itself hangs
on a thin ever spiraling string
and kindness curls into small,
dark corners
weeping and whispering
softly I had a home
here once.
We must all now agree to be homes
for small creatures
IV.
I finally feel at peace
as garbage burns along the coast
and children swim and laugh
amongst the last candy wrappers washing ashore
There will be some joy and some small songs
as the sun prepares to be eaten
and bombs drop
on the last hospitable
homes in a land once known as Palestine.
From here, my white skin burned brown
by a god that I’ve at least cared enough to name
I can barely hear the final gasps
of the proud and free Canaanite Sea.