I Would Die For My Words, But I’ll Stand With My Superpower

i-am-my-words

“Why are you speaking out so much? You’re going to get hurt”.

Going to get hurt? I’ve been hurt my whole life, what don’t I already know about hurt?  I’ve been hurt deeply enough to have died.  Literally.  (Life skillz pro tip: I highly recommend dying near a handy defibrillator; CPR hurts like a bitch – for days).

As a matter of record, this year has been one of the most painfully tumultuous for me and yet, I’m still here and I’m still talkin’ – unflinchingly.

I wish to continue asking people to step out of what they’ve learned is ‘success’ and question if it truly makes their heart sing, keeps them at peace and benefits anyone/anything else outside of constant, immediate personal gratification.

Well known, feminist activist, Gloria Steinem said, women become more activist conscious and engaged as they grow older because they lose power. I agree with her, re: our current paradigm.  We are prized for our beauty, our ‘niceness’; especially our willingness to ‘pleasantly get along’ regardless of any inequity levels in front of us.

She also said, men gain power as they age; that many tend to become more conservative – because they become more fearful about losing that advantageous power and so will use whatever manner to constrict others to protect that cushion.

I believe her words. I’ve lived them, but I refuse to accept them for me and my son.

This year especially highlighted my weaknesses, particularly from a genetic disease that doesn’t allow me to march or dance in all the ways I love, and from profound losses that reshaped my life, but I found ways to help change old paradigms anyway.

I’ve been gifted words and words are a superpower.

My words burst or seep in all kinds of form. I’ll write statement after statement about injustices that ignite my passion or calls to fierceness.  I often confess my words can be a stream of the most colorful profanity, that I could be speaking 6 other languages I don’t even know. Sometimes my words just want to be heard in the softest tones of poetry.  Sometimes my words are filled with laughter, and sometimes my words can embarrass the hell out of me.

What my words mostly are though, are a life source; a critical part of my purpose.  It’s been said so since I first spoke (a string of 3 expletives). My family gleefully and variously confirmed it with all sort of eye-roll inducing teases.

So, in answer to my concerned friend that I may get hurt by my expanding work to speak up against injustice – yes, I may, but since when is stretching not painful? On a personal level,  I’ve turned that around. I now refuse to spend any unnecessary time with anyone over 30 who refuses to relate in a straightforward grown-ass manner. I can confirm, time is precious. As Betty White said, “Vagina up, man”. She explained, why say,  ‘grow a pair’, when testicles are really quite fragile? We’re talking about actual birth canals; talk about taking a beating”! Man, I love that woman! Anyway, maybe this’ll net me fewer conversations, but saving time and connecting with people in a more real way for purposes greater than myself seems in fact, to be the point of my life.

I know that’s not entirely the pain my friend is concerned with, but – I can speak with some fair firsthand authority now, to assure that the most painful hurt, is not harsh words or bruises, broken bones, CPR or even dying. Outside of losing loved ones, what hurts most, is indifference.

So, I’ll continue to ask, which of our success representations are truly so valuable that we couldn’t live without them?  We don’t have to die to learn most of what we fear losing is really, not so much after all, but many do die because we refuse to look at the question.

We do everything we can for the safety and comfort of our loved ones, but will we extend that to include those who have suffered on any level for that comfort? If you don’t know who that is, please, please seek to learn; we need to look beyond our own small space in this great big world. Indifference is the poison that is instantly diluted by even the simplest act of compassion.  Just do it. I know you want to.

RL

Less is More, For a Third

There are the times when the truism, ‘less is more’, is the ultimate results building block.

I enjoyed this simplification of processing to action when it came on my media feeds: the disbelief, the hurt, the despair, then the full-on kick ass course correction.

My process my entire life

My process my entire life

Only two courses of action have created the worst of every social situation – those who have pursued them and the others who turned their face away from it.

We need to push ourselves through fear, uneasiness, and comfort and get in front of people who have less. We are the third option. Yes, it is that simple.

RL

 

Thug Angels

Thug Angels 22A

His vision, his world, a shambles
Soul matter blasted into splinters
His prayers for freedoms and joys splayed
Across the Universe
The result of his grasping in silt for light

He blamed her, she who berated him
For his throwing her under the bus
He forgot she was the one who hears when he refuses to listen
He set about to break her, then eradicate her
He didn’t notice she’d already been shocked into a heap of sobbing incertitude

He accused her friends, the ones who stepped in
The ones who told him he was over the line
But they only needed to have their say
And then they moved on
Anything else was of minimal intrigue

Incredible how he missed the obvious; how he didn’t recognize their handiwork
Smoke swirling around their heads, cigars on their lips
As they sat at the liquor laden table surveilling
His own nearest & dearest slogging to tell him, show him, lead him
And he’d left them laughing, cursing and then sighing

Thug Angels 2B

It was time, he was overdue
The escapes of old were disingenuous now and the diversions too unworthy
The old schtick overworked, overused, overdone
His purpose was grown now, and he needed to catch up
Seemed to be taking him forever to catch on

It grates on them, the way he pisses and moans
When his prayers are answered
As if his puny ideas and plans matched the Universal facilities
They roll their eyes at his indignant umbrage and dismissal of Universal intent
At his constant returns, to deferral, to keep playing in skin deep

He’s meant to clean up the broken pieces… hold them in his hands
To plead for honest to God help and forgiveness and real humanity
To finally step up to accountability
To put it all back together
And again be whole

Time to stop blowing smoke, they tell him
It is so bloody well up to you now, this part, bud
Bemoan it, ignore it, delay it, but it don’t matter
It’s only fear in the way and fear’s no match for the inevitable
Your prayers, pal – so, get your own arse outta the way

Thug Angels 2C

Hey, Tony… your turn to deal…

RL

They said to her,
“Hard work being convinced the latest & the latest latest is the real thing this time, hey”?
“Haaaa…as their laughed soared & faded, “Sure… sure it is, ha ha haaa”…
…and she only smiled back at them. After all, they know everything…