2016 felt like ripping off a giant, stinking bandage and exposing the raw, festering wound that lies underneath.
Now we are all just gathered around, aghast, mouths gaping, wondering what the fuck to do and how could this be. When the air hits, it burns. When the ugly and shocking truth arrives into the light we turn away from it . We let our head fall into our hands, we reach out to try and steady one another.
But it will be there when we turn back. We can’t un-see it. Between denial and grief, shock and rage, no one knows quite what to do yet. Some will disown it. Others will understand the magnitude of the work that lies ahead. Others will know that they’ve been preparing for this.
We’ve been exposed.
The devastation is real.
There is no more hiding.
But in that comes liberation.
Because we didn’t realize until now how much energy and effort it was taking to keep pretending. Pretending individuals were the problem or individual problems were the problem. Pretending our own personal dramas were not inseparable from and symptoms of a disease from which no one living in this country is safe. Pretending good intentions and positive vibes were enough. Pretending that even the self-help industry isn’t a careful construct to keep you preoccupied with your own vision board instead of looking outside your window, or talking to your therapist instead of talking to your neighbor. Pretending we could change the world without really changing our choices or by fighting battles on social media with opponents whose stories we’ve never heard and lives we don’t understand. Or those who’ve shouted themselves hoarse at ears that cannot hear and will not move out from behind their screens to hear the drum beat of the war song building beneath their feet.
Now we stand face to face with a Truth we’ve created. Not you alone but all of us together. You cannot extricate yourself anymore.
Many will try. Many will cling to indignation.
“I have been wronged,” they will cry, “This is not my world, I didn’t choose this. This is not my fight.”
But we’ve all been wronged. We’ve all been party to hidden agendas and travesties we’ll never fully comprehend. Products of convenience, our own and others’. Sacrificial lambs to the gods of “progress”. Generations of well-fed but malnourished, over-stimulated, soul-numbed, spouters of programmed intellectual mind-fuckery that we’ve been given to explain everything that’s “wrong” with us.
We are all each the victim, the perpetrator and the enabler.
And there is no where to go.
No one is coming to fix this.
She wasn’t the Answer. She wouldn’t have saved us.
No one coming to save us.
No matter who you decide to blame, no one is going to get what they are owed.
The jury we stand before is ourselves, our neighbors, our loved ones living and deceased, our children.
To forgive you, I have to forgive myself.
To forgive myself is to forgive you.
And I don’t know if I am ready.
I am still reeling. I am still angry.
So I keep looking. I keep turning around to look again. I look and look and look until my breath catches in my throat and my stomach turns and I hear my voice from somewhere else shouting in protest, “Nooo.… I can’t. I don’t want to see this!
Yes. Look. You must look.
We’ve been set up to participate in systematic genocide. They left us no other choice. The Light has been turned on and we are all stained with each other’s blood.
This is not a sentence. This is where we begin to see.
There is no one coming to save us. No one to give back what rightfully should have been yours. Mine. Ours.
Not for the child who was abused.
Not for the family whose home has been destroyed.
Not for the tribes whose sacred sites have been pillaged and robbed.
Not for the mother whose children have been torn from her arms.
Not for the community who lost yet another innocent black son.
Not for the women raped and left for dead.
Not for the daughter who was never protected.
Not for the boy forced to participate in systematic violence for an imperialist agenda who called him a ‘hero” and then abandoned him and left him when he was no longer useful.
Not for the man who can’t go to sleep without battling images of torture and death.
Not for the trees that once covered this Earth.
Not for the oceans once teeming with vibrant life.
Not for the Falklands Wolf nor the New Zealand grayling.
Not for the Rocky Mountain locust or the North African elephant.
Not for the tropical rainforests of Papau New Guinea or Costa Rica.
Or for the victims of the nuclear holocausts of Chernobyl, Fukushima, 9-11.
Not for the refugee who will never return home again.
Nor for the exploited immigrant worker separated from his family.
Not for the home and the family I imagined for myself, for the ending of the story that began with what seemed like such fierce unbreakable love. Not for the other children. Not for how many times my heart has broken.
None of it can be righted. Not of it can be returned.
All we have is this unrelenting Light that now shines upon all. Sometimes this is what mercy feels like. Didn’t you pray for the Light to come? Didn’t you call upon it? I did.
Didn’t you know that when you call upon the Light it will come? Did you remember that what the Light does is reveal the deepest darkness?
Yes, there are those who have been calling in the Light for years.
And it is come. Don’t be fooled. 2016 was not a year of darkness but of Light.
We’ve been exposed.
The devastation is real.
But there is no more hiding.
And in that, comes liberation.
And possibilities of a new way. For what only what is in the Light can heal. And only we can save us.
4 thoughts on “The year of Light.”
Thank you so much for coming across my blog and for commenting so I could find yours! I wish you could see me, beaming from ear to ear, saying yes, yes, yes! We are the ones who have to save us. No one is going to do it for us. Because I don’t know how to change a few billion people, and my words won’t reach them, I’m working on myself and letting my light ripple out.
Something I’ve known, but hit me at a deeper level recently, was about how before (big) change, there is (big) chaos. And, as you know, that’s what we’re seeing now. It reminds me of a bit of stuck energy in my system that causes problems so I go looking into it in a healing session, see the root cause, and unravel it. I’m writing more about concepts like this on my other blog (Remembering My Divinity) lately. The info I’ve been putting out is mostly through my own direct experiences in healing sessions of my own crap.
Thank you for your words! Yes I have been in the midst of big chaos and big change this year…feeling like I might be in the final throes and maybe just maybe catching a glimpse the other side now…Yes! Your metaphor of stuck energy in the system is quite appropriate. Often the closer we get to the root cause the greater the discomfort and we can either turn away from the intensity or have to move INTO it in order to shift it. Whew. Easier to talk about it than do it though! Be well, my friend, and keep writing! It’s good to hear each other voices who are sharing a similar path. Thank you also for sharing your other outlet, Remembering My Divinity, which I have been perusing now as well. (:
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“It’s about death, isn’t it? … Either way, no matter what, there is death at the end. … [But] death is only half the story. The other half is life, how to navigate in these slippery waters, how to keep the humbling knowledge of our end in sight. How we all seem to blow it one way or another, but how important it is to admit our mistakes, not turn our back on anything. It’s in the details of what we have done that we can find our liberation. Yet how easily we forget and move away from the heat and honesty of our moments. We need our stories to remind us and to mirror our reality. And we need our writers to record them.” — Natalie Goldberg
Thank you for recording the honesty of your moments, A. xoxo
WOW. Perfect. Yes!!!