Month: August 2008
“We Who Believe in Freedom…”
Ella’s Song Composed by Bernice Johnson Reagon, copyright ©Songtalk Publishing Co. http://www.bernicejohnsonreagon.com/ella.shtml We who believe in freedom cannot rest We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes Until the killing of black men, black mothers’ sons Is as important as the killing of […]
Sometimes Things Work Themselves Out
This doesn’t happen to me very often, but the situations over which my heart was breaking a few days ago have worked themselves out in ways I couldn’t have orchestrated if I’d tried. One has lessened in intensity and thus in the severity of the pain it causes, and one has involved healing and reconciliation and kindness.
To turn, turn will be our delight, ’til by turning, turning, we come ’round right. —Joseph Brackett, “Simple Gifts,” Shaker dance song.
Hillary’s Speech in Denver: * * * * *
I don’t think a better speech could be given than the one Hillary gave in Denver tonight. Sandi agrees with me.
There’s still no fuckin’ way I’m voting for 0bama, even though she asked me to, but I thought she finessed everything that could possibly have needed finessing For everybody else it may be between McCain and 0bama, but for me it’s between Nader and McKinney.
I have no confidence in the Democratic Party any more, and I no longer think that they come close enough to my values for me to bother putting in the effort to bridge the gap. Let them come to me. The Pubs ain’t gonna do any such thing, but I don’t think the Dems are, either.
From here on out I’m advocating ballot access for and representative coverage of third parties.
To Everything There Is a Season
We are all, every one of us, filled with horror.
—Michael Ventura, “A Dance for Your Life in the Marriage Zone”
I keep trying to talk myself out of my own grief, but I find that I feel most at peace when I just admit to myself that my heart is breaking.
My heart is breaking.
And it’s okay. It’s just a way of being. Sometimes hearts are full, and sometimes they are empty, and sometimes they are intact and strong, and sometimes they are broken.
There’s really nothing wrong with having a broken heart except that it’s sad and painful. Not that I advocate drawing out either feeling a second longer than the life they have on their own, but they are just feelings and will pass.
Ironically, when I just get honest about the fact that my heart is breaking, I feel free—free to stop trying to cajole myself into pretending I’m in a different emotional space than I’m in.
This is an auspicious time to be meditating on the truth of my heart’s breaking, it being the season just ushered in by Lughnasadh, or Lammas, the ancient traditional season of the grain-harvest.
Indeed, John Barleycorn must die.
I’ve been re-reading one of my very favorite books, May Sarton’s Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing. Sarton is so out there with her truths, truths with which I resonate down in my core:
“Something has to open people, and it’s always terrible.” (italics mine)
I must not fail to acknowledge this, that my heartbreak will open me up, and that the elixir pouring forth from the ferment of its brokenness will bring joy as well as nourishment.