Being The Bull

"Don't stop the bull from enjoying their workday."

This sentence often plays out in my mind while at the farm. It serves as a perfect excuse to sneak a few sungolds here and there, or to stop the clock and marvel at whatever show might be on at any given time in the sky. It could be the transfixing migration of the sandhill cranes, rainclouds rolling in over the woodlands like slow melting butter, or just the run-of-the-mill sugarblue backdrop dolloped with milky cumulus clouds. This sentiment that I've come to hold so dear is a paraphrase of scripture shared with me by my co-worker. I'd never heard it before but instantly loved it. As 1 Timothy 5:18 reads, "Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain." This statement highlights the potential of a kind of casual everyday delight for both animals and humans alike when engaging in our common tasks. It also serves as a clear call to reciprocity and curative exchange.

We are not meant to simply work the earth, or work ourselves. We are meant, as we have been from the start, to engage in a reality of co-creation. I remember learning from the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer that sweetgrass doesn't grow too well when it's unharvested and left alone. This plant like many others grows best in conscious engagement, with us humans specifically. Joel Salatin is also often caught stating in his palatably comedic tone that the biggest mistake we've made as caring humans for a sick planet is to abandon it, thinking that earth is better off without us. In fact, we are made to participate. I'd go so far as to say it's an unavoidable requirement. We are involved whether we like it or not, hurting or helping. The great symbol of success according to the current prevalent myth is to take what is wanted no matter the cost, then abandon the giver - until going back for more. It is horrific. Even in death we have left the earth behind, reserving the most comfortable beds for empty shells while others live and breathe and sleep on sidewalks. What an upside down place.

I believe that the annual ritual of streaming a fireplace to our screens is proof of our desire for closeness with nature. While fire gazing is in the blood of every human alive, being one of those primordial golden threads that connects us all, most of us don't rely upon fire as we once did so we settle for the comforting crackle of wood being slowly enveloped by flames on our TV. The sound alone is medicine, and easily acquired with a monthly streaming subscription. The same goes for saline pools or the popularity of salt bath soaks. Yes, the ocean has the same salt-water ratio as a womb, but why care when the benefits can be packaged, controlled, and enjoyed at home? We know these things are healing, but somewhere along the way we severed the sacred ties with the giver.

Prophetess Nina Simone sang that there's a new world coming, and she has always been right. Her revelation echoes in the wind and rain and sun and moon. It is reflected in the groaning of the earth, and the melodies of the birds. She sang out a story of rebirth for our species. Like all birthing, this cannot happen alone. It must be midwived. Again we are called away from our conveniences to do something very important. Will we answer? Can we hear? I have a funny suspicion that if we do, we may find joy in the task. We may find purpose and meaning and gratitude as we push, pull. Inhale, exhale. Push. Pull. Inhale. Exhale.

The Reciprocity of Wasted Time

The necessity to stop, to be, to take in and simply exist is present all throughout nature, which is exactly why we often fail to notice the miracle of shared life that is all around, all the time, infinite and always. A few days ago, I went out to see the farm cows. There are only two; so happy in their lives, these cows are content to feast on cabbages and squash like little kings. They are given space to mosey, dawdle, wander, and to chew the cud together for as long as they like.

Brian, one of the farm bosses, was reflecting on the standard industrial method of keeping cows. 100 cows? 100 acres. That should be more than enough. The thought is that within these parameters, they get all the space they could need as creatures with no ambition we could understand, at least from a spiritually removed capitalist perspective. After all, what would any cow do with space to roam? Setting aside the age-old link between grazing and soil health, we must consider life at large. Who - or what - needs all that space anyway? Is it cars? I recall the alien in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy initially believing that cars were the higher life form since it appeared that humans catered to them with the dedication of loyal servants. I'd say no, it's not cars - could it be buildings? What about industry and capital? Does it need all that space? Surely it does, yes. But what grows from it? When do we dawdle? Where is the village? Until we learn to uphold our own dignity as a species, I'm not sure how, collectively, we will learn to uphold the dignity of others.

Philip Berrigan said this from a prison in 1970, and I believe it to be likely true: "…there's not going to be a revolution. There's only going to be ongoing revolutions on the part of individuals and small groups."

Many a project, nonprofit or business venture has begun with the spirit of this notion at their core - and many have done tremendous good. However, for the solitary soul, what if this understanding simply began at stillness and rippled out from there? I never would have noticed the snake, so gracefully wrapped around the boundless blackberry, or the rabbit, or the quail or deer or cloud shaped like a massive double penis had I not truly paused and watched and listened and felt and stopped - stopped everything completely besides the act of simply being - which has become a little revolution against all that is understood to be wrong in a straightforward way, and felt to be wrong in an abstract way. Cows need that space. We do as well. And the snakes, and the rabbits, and the deer. And yes, I suppose the blackberries too.

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The Blessings of Bare Feet : Healing With The Earth

When I was born, the first living thing I met - even before my own mother - was the soil. My family home was made of earth, dusty and wonderful. The earth is our original mother. This is true of us all, regardless of the setting of our birth. We are made from the same glorious dirt as our planet, paired with the dazzling radiance of stardust and the sweet breath of consciousness. We’ve come to regard the very thing we are made from with fear and disgust - meanwhile the earth aches to see us heal. It is alive, it’s electric, and it contains a built in system of grounding and healing which benefits us, simply by being present. This is more than just a feel-good spiritualism, though if that’s where it ends for you, I honor it. But for those curious about the science, as well as the implications therein, I’ll gladly continue and explain in the simplest terms.

The human-developed electrical fields we surround ourselves with through modern comforts - from the television to the refrigerator, home wiring, wifi and climate controlled settings - disturb our natural, electrical balance. There are even people who have tremendous sensitivities to these imbalances, suffering inflammation and illness. Sadly, this is largely discredited by the current socio-medical system, and these people suffer in an increasingly robotic world. For the majority of us, it’s a slow leak effect rather than a large burst of discomfort. This can surface as anything from headaches to chronic illness to disease, often undiagnosable or explained away as something that "just happens."

The surface of the earth is electrically conductive. Whenever you stand barefoot on the ground, you are receiving its charge - free of charge - made possible by the power and energy of the sun. Problems arise when we are physically lacking in negative charge, which is where this practice of placing our bare feet on the ground comes into play. Making contact with the earth through bare skin allows the transference of millions of electrons into the body. The earth is a conductor, as are all living beings. The earth is negatively charged, emitting negative electrons. These help detoxify our bodies in many ways.

With our feet on the ground, we begin to flow with the current of the earth, providing us with greater health, and a feeling of connection and stability. With a regular practice, you become more centered, strong, solid, and balanced. These negative electrons induce multiple physiological changes and near immediate healing, including most notably the significant reduction of inflammation and pain, deeper sleep, a shift from sympathetic to parasympathetic tone in the autonomic nervous system, improved circulation, rapid wound recovery, and release of tension within muscles and joints to name just a few of the benefits.

As stated by the US National Library of Medicine / National Institutes of Health:

"The National Library of Medicine's online resource PubMed lists 7021 studies and 522 review articles from a search of 'antioxidant + electron + free radical.' It is assumed that the influx of free electrons absorbed into the body through direct contact with the Earth likely neutralize ROS and thereby reduce acute and chronic inflammation. Throughout history, humans mostly walked barefoot or with footwear made of animal skins (which do not interrupt connection to the earth). They slept on the ground or on skins. Through direct contact or through perspiration-moistened animal skins used as footwear or sleeping mats, the ground's abundant free electrons were able to enter the body, which is electrically conductive. Through this mechanism, every part of the body could equilibrate with the electrical potential of the Earth, thereby stabilizing the electrical environment of all organs, tissues, and cells."

In a world where the origin points of illness and pain are primarily agreed by professionals to be “unknown” yet the cures are costly and boundless, it is no longer shocking to me that the most obvious mechanisms of healing should also be the ones hiding in plain sight. All too often, the place of healing also denotes the place of origin, and what we are therein lacking. Thankfully, bare ground is still available for most of us, even in small patches depending on where we live. Many other naturally supportive attributes of this world such as clean and free flowing water, fresh particle-free air and unadulterated foods from well nourished soil are becoming harder and harder to come by. These are our original medicines - and the earth itself is the keeper of them all.

In a 2020 article by the Telegraph titled, "Gardening Can Do What Medicine Only Tries to Mimic for Mental Health," horticulturalist Monty Don - who also openly shares about his often crushing depression - excitedly speaks to new scientific evidence disclosing what we likely understand in our core but still want to have validated through modern methodology.

In his words:

"Modern life is, for most people, cut off from reality, sealed away from weather, food, seasons, entertainment - almost everything. Our lives are the product of somebody else's creation - from what we wear, eat, listen to, move around in, to anything you can think of. But gardens are real. They are not a version of themselves served up via a corporate process. By becoming in tune with the seasons of growth, fall, preparation and harvest, you make your mind and body happier and healthier. By having a direct stake and involvement with the process of plants growing, of having our hands in the soil and tending it carefully and with love, your world and everyone else's world too, becomes a better place."

There is a kind of morbid human desire to have these intuitions given mainstream credit. And though I do love that individuals, from lab coat wearers to newspaper editors, are beginning to dig deeper into these somewhat taboo notions, I send a sweet smile to indigenous communities, who have made these subjects points of interest in the first place. In a less popularized and an essentially direct tone, Nemonte Nenquimo, Indigenous Waoriani leader of the Amazon rainforest, penned an open letter in The Guardian written to anyone who will listen. The article was sharply titled, "This is My Message to the Western World - Your Civilization is Killing Life on Earth." She states:

"I never had the chance to go to university, and become a doctor, or a lawyer, a politician, or a scientist. My elders are my teachers. The forest is my teacher. And I have learned enough (and I speak shoulder to shoulder with my Indigenous brothers and sisters across the world) to know that you have lost your way, and that you are in trouble (though you don't fully understand it yet) and that your trouble is a threat to every form of life on Earth."

So often, the wonder we experience when taking in the natural world around us can seem saccharinely distant, ignorantly wide-eyed and naive. With that being said, the world is a marvel. And we each have to start somewhere in the patient process of recognition between self and earth, which has been severed for so many of us.

What can we do about this disconnect?

Most of us are used to living within immensely sterile environments. We don’t exactly know our dwelling spaces in any intimate way - as a living ancestor and descendant all in one. The historic walls of Kasbah Des Caids in Morocco are not unfamiliar to the residents who call it home, or the land itself. In fact, this historic structure is made of the land of the Atlas Mountains. The labyrinthine stairwells, rooms and passageways are all structured from only local raw materials, as they have been for countless eras. Built in the beginning of the 16th century, this residence was and continues to be made of the pure earth around it. No unknown particles, factory developed products or imported attributes. From the skeleton to the skin, this living structure is an ancestor to the region. How many structures could we say the same about where you now stand?

These methods of building and living interdependently with our environment are largely rooted in indigenous methods. Like trees, they are alive - holding space for the life around it as well. This is true reciprocity.

Reconnecting to our environment can begin at letting our feet, our hands, our lungs and our minds, untangle from the structures of the quick-and-modern. Let your bare soles walk freely in the forest, or even a city park. Sit with the roots of a tree and imagine all they have heard and seen. Visit a library, check out some books about trees, then maybe even read aloud to them. Find a freshwater spring and share a drink of water with a friend. Discuss the sensation of it. Sink your toes into the mud. Reconnecting to environment is to reconnect to Creator, and to our very own innocent nature. Our beginning, our end, and our beginning again.

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| Video Essay | Finding The Fool

Shot by Kenny Hamlett, edited by Justin Morrison

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Martin's & Mahalia's Dream

In his speech in 1963, Martin Luther King's advisors told him to leave out the "I Have a Dream" part. He addressed over 250,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial, and as he spoke, a friend yelled from the crowd. "Tell them about the dream, Martin! Tell them about the dream!" That friend was Mahalia Jackson, known at the time as the Queen of Gospel. She encouraged him to say what he felt from his heart to be true. Clarence Jones, one of his advisors, watched as Martin slid his prepared papers to the side. His neatly wrapped 5 minute speech became 17 minutes of free form passion. He said "I Have a Dream" not once, but eight times. ⠀

Dr. King said, "Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better." He embodied this point by not allowing for his vision to be stifled, and for making space for others to express themselves too; if not with individual freedom, then with integrity and the strength of power in numbers. Mrs. Jackson was a living example of necessary disruption. She pushed for innovative thinking and expression, even when popularly inadvisable. This moment reminds us that we can speak, act, create, and live for truth. The dream lives on. The fight continues.

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What We Cannot Buy: Consumption and the Loss of Our World

I remember reading that the eastern puma had officially gone extinct in 2017. During this year, several species passed on from our planet for all time, lost to history and living now only in libraries and documentaries. I felt shaken, then angry. Did we really just lose such a beautiful animal? Forever?

Acting with the speed of the digital age, I typed "puma" into Google. What I found was not information on wild regal cats, but pages upon pages of information on shoes. I was shown locations of where to buy them, offered a range of different styles, and prompted towards sales and discounts. The plain truth of consumption being our shameless priority smacked me hard in the face. This reality is reflected in the damaged health of our world. The fifth major extinction of planet earth was 65 million years ago. The dinosaurs vanished, leaving behind their bones and whispers of secrets still uncracked. It's now been widely accepted that we are living through the sixth major extinction. Animals are dying off at increasingly alarming rates, and humans are becoming unwell in body and mind.

Coral reef supports around 25% of marine life, providing homes and environment for sea creatures. They are bleaching, leaving countless oceanic insects and animals without protection or resources. These reef not only buffer the crashing of waves, making the ocean a safer place for animals and humans alike, but they contain the most diverse ecosystems on the planet. There is a domino effect when it comes to the vanishing of species. We may not be aware of the direct relation between tiny plankton living in the ocean and the water we drink, but it becomes clearer while looking closer - as well as witnessing the connection from a distance. This is the same water we have always drank, grown food and created shelter with, and aided in hygiene. The link is absolute. The air we breathe, the food we eat, the lives we live - all depend on the smallest microorganisms which thrive from the health of water. The compromise of the worlds water has hit a peak state of emergency, as micro and macro plastics alike push species to the breaking point. How many starved whales with bellies full of plastic must wash ashore? How many animals split by the weight of trash and chemicals must we see to be convinced to change?

Photosynthesis, first by marine cyanobacteria, then by marine algae and finally by green land plants, has dramatically changed the carbon cycle and ultimately the earth. Plants have run the biological carbon cycle for 3 billion years in the ocean, and for the past 400 million years on land, using the process of photosynthesis to convert atmospheric CO2 into carbon-rich carbohydrates and sugars to feed themselves. And they are very good at it. They not only feed themselves, but also feed the whole chain of animal life. They also produce oxygen as a byproduct of photosynthesis, an element essential for animal life.

— Eric Fok, Marine Biology at Auckland University of Technology

When plants can't provide enough oxygen to sustain their own life as well as the over-population of others, extinction is a direct result. Without the 50% of healthy breathable oxygen given by the oceans phytoplankton (photosynthetic organisms that live in the surface oceans), the oxygen-giving plants of the world find themselves carrying a very heavy burden. Meanwhile, the 2.7 million miles of the Amazon rainforest and basin continue to be uprooted and destroyed. There is less than 20% left - that's less than 20% lung capacity for the largest oxygen producer and carbon dioxide absorber on the planet. Let me say it again: the largest producer of oxygen and absorber of prevalent greenhouse gas carbon dioxide is now existing at below 20%. And we are losing more than 150 acres of the Amazon every minute of every day. This immoral and often unlawful deforestation is largely due to land clearing for cattle. The demand for meat has risen dramatically with the population, and room is running out. Other reasons include logging, mining for minerals such as diamonds, aluminum, copper, and gold - as well as large scale agriculture. These massive single-crop plots generate wheat to feed cattle, box cereals and enriched flour foods, sugar, coffee and palm. The land cannot sustain these large operations; none of which are indigenous to the region and strain it in multiple ways. Oil companies continue to aggressively drill through the Amazon resulting in major spills, further killing the land and aquatic animals. This oil seeps into the water and soil causing irreversible damages.

Scientific research has shown that the rainforest itself affects the weather in the region. The trees affect how water moves through the ecosystem, how the wind blows and where rain falls. Cutting the trees down and turning the area into farmland or grassland changes this relationship. The very existence of the rainforest helps to create the weather that maintains the rainforest, and cutting down the trees destabilizes this balance.

— Colin Schultz, Smithsonian.com

The most beautiful aspects of our planet - of our lives - are being lost. Most humans do not seem fulfilled, wishing for the worlds of invention and fantasy. These worlds of wonder are in fact all around us; yet our priorities and immediate demands create an environment that is not sustainable for us, or for our great world that we call home. We are blatantly worn thin; lost in the whirlwind of a day-to-day that seems inescapable. The earth below and around us struggles as we exhaust ourselves, often to accomplish those very things that contribute to our mutual demise. Individually we don't feel we have much power. However, we do have the ability to organize and take risks to help. There is no perfect answer or a universal one. There is only intelligent, loving, courageous action. It's beyond time that our priorities change, and are given the space they deserve to thrive.

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The Waitress and The Mother Bird

"And death shall have no dominion…”

I stood in a small restaurant in the quiet Moroccan coastal town of Tafedna when what felt like a racing ghost swept over my shoulder, just barely skimming a few of my hairs and sending my gaze darting around the room. What in the world just moved past me? Then I saw it. A bird. A mother bird. She stood on a very old clay pot decorating the fireplace mantel at the end of the room with eyes fixed on me, completely unmoving and entirely focused. I then glanced to my left towards a pillar made of an ancient tree trunk. It had grown itself a perfect cradle for this mother’s babies; a hollow holding a downy bed of long hair comprised of the regions abundance - a mix of human and goat. Inside were held a few precious eggs. This collection of this moment - the aged tree, the mix of hair, the tiny eggs and the bird herself - felt entirely, passively holy.

The holy moment suddenly faded from my mind, replaced by a sharp anxiety. I feared that the server would notice what I had noticed. Did I just give this little family away? Would she hurt them? Where I live in the United States, I could only assume that a bird and her babes would not be permitted to live in any establishment, especially a restaurant. They would be removed and the space sanitized, for safety and legal purposes of course. A new set of eyes looked over towards me, then to the nest. The server with hair similar to mine walked over with a soft smile, and looked at the pillar. In my head I began preparing my case for the bird. My hope was hollow, as I assumed the chances of convincing a place such as this to overthrow the rules was slim. Her eyes traveled gracefully. She then smiled at the nest with the sweet nature of a child and gently said, "yes,” walking back to the kitchen with a languid gait. Perhaps she offered this short and simple response because of our difference in language. Or perhaps she said it because it was all that needed to be said.

The world I envision is not one of human oppression, but shared existence and honorable stewardship. For just a moment in Morocco, I felt such a world come to life.

Dr. Zoubida Charrouf: the Keeper of the Trees

"The argan tree is the last bastion against desertification. Without this tree, the whole population will migrate to the big cities to find work elsewhere. That’s why we have to preserve it. Argan is part of the Moroccan heritage. We must preserve it because of the role it plays." — Dr Zoubida Charrouf, Seed of Life

Many of us love argan oil (ⴰⵔⴳⴰⵏ, أرغان), but too few know of Dr. Zoubida Charrouf - a key player in this plants recent story. She has dedicated the entirety of her adult life to its preservation and understanding, both as a resource and a deeply important aspect of Moroccan heritage. As we use this resource, the liquid life force of the argan tree, we would do well to also pay tribute to Dr. Charrouf, as well as the many unknown individuals and communities who have tended the land for so long, and continue to steward it.

Dr. Charrouf is a heroine of heritage. I often wonder what may have happened without her willingness to intervene and nearly single-handedly save a tree that was on the brink of disappearance. She saw that holistic perseverance is not possible without true reciprocal relationship with the land itself.

Current professor of chemistry in Rabat, scientist, environmentalist, and feminist in her own right, Dr. Charrouf drew attention to a tree in the early '90s that had been largely untapped, and was rapidly falling prey to desertification. She understood that the massive annual loss of this particular tree would cause not only devastating environmental effects, but also the collapse of a major cornerstone of Moroccan culture. This tree is known as argan. Endemic to Morocco, it takes around 50 years to produce fruit ripe and ready for harvesting. When healthy, the argan tree can live up to 200 years. Throughout their long life, the argan stands as a promise to provide for those living in arid and challenging environments, as long as the time is given to regard this plant as kin. It's a longstanding part of the place itself - the land, and the people. It doesn’t ask for much other than care and communion, and if provided for, it will give back plentifully.

Dr. Charrouf currently oversees the operation of over 30 sustainable argan cooperatives, employing primarily women in the Atlas Mountains and offering them new chances for financial stability and empowerment through career and community. She sees that care of oil extraction be dutifully upheld. “I work until about midnight everyday and then I like to start at 8 a.m. or sometimes 8.30 am the next day,” she says.

Her mission is equally split between two passions: the successful growth of this powerful plant, and the support of the women who deserve recognition, respect, and independence. She personally understands the power of the latter as she has lived and worked for so long in a social environment that aches for her failure as a female working in the scientific realm. In her words, “Men would tell me that I’m disrupting their home and that the women should return to their place." Before approaching IDRC (International Development Research Centre), says Charrouf, “I knocked at several doors, but no one believed in my project.”

Today, argan oil can be found in a plethora of products, even by supremely popular brands; now widely known as a high-value product on the international market. It is certified internationally as a Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) product. PGI labelling was granted to Moroccan argan oil in 2009; the first product on the African continent to receive such protection. This milestone, among many others, is completely due to the ongoing dedicated work of Dr Charrouf.

Despite sexist naysayers, outright threats and social shaming from the start, she has proceeded to answer to a larger calling. As she continues, she simultaneously offers opportunity for others to do the same for themselves - all while tending to the land, and enacting ongoing reciprocal exchange.

“Being part of the cooperative freed me from tedious domestic work in people’s homes. Now I’m learning to read and write and I’ve learned how to ensure the quality of the argan kernels. The cooperative has made me more independent. I’ve been able to visit other cooperatives in other provinces. I’ve seen how girls and women like me have been able to shape their own destiny and move ahead to develop their cooperatives.”

— Member of the Taitmatine Cooperative, Morocco

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Of All Sizes

No life is too small.

The resilience of life, especially when I see it challenged over and over again by waves of false reason, continues to humble me. When it comes to the quantum web of life, humans miss out. We are busy. We are within this web, but often numb to it; taking and toxifyng more than should be legal, let alone personally ethical. We kill without reason, convinced by some invisible basis of need. For business, personal gain, survival, bravado or fear. I’ve killed a lot of bugs in my life, and not once did I use their carcasses for clothing, food or shelter. I admittedly did it because I didn’t know what else to do. Because I was afraid. I’ve learned to trap spiders in glasses and set them free outside. As I’ve grown, I’ve also come to understand that everything has a distinct reason to exist. Mosquitos wouldn’t be wrong to label my species as blood sucking parasites, on a good day. Every living being has its purpose, and each deserves respect.

We get ants in the house this time of year, on the hunt for sugar and water. They usually arrive in little organized rows on the kitchen counter, or along the sink in small scrambled crowds. If they’ve found crumbs to eat or a drop of honey to sip, I let them finish and thank them for the reminder to tidy up. They just did the work for me, after all. A few weeks ago, I turned on the bathroom faucet to brush my teeth. Before I had the chance to notice, a lone ant was quickly doused in the sudden downpour. The sudden blast caused the small body to wash up on the shores of the porcelain siding; its little sectioned body and thread thin legs crinkled up like wet paper. With the edge of my fingernail I gently scooped it up, muttering some apologies and asking the ant to be alive again. Despite the hopeless scene at the end of my index finger, I sat on the edge of the tub and watched. A mere 20 seconds went by until little legs and antennae began moving again. Within less than a minute, the ant propped itself up and began to crawl the length of my arm.

Yesterday while kayaking, I passed a bumble bee floating in the water. The Willamette river is wide and expansive, and bees can’t swim. I paddled by, then stopped. There was nothing stopping me from swinging back around just to check except myself. It took a few minutes of paddling back and forth, and I’ll never need those minutes back. I scooped up the unmoving bee, placed it on top of the kayak, and paddled towards a dock. Like the ant, it took a moment to begin moving. The bee’s slicked back wings freed themselves, vibrating dry again. The bee was left on the dry dock, and flew away content as I bobbed in the water.

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Secret Thoughts of an Adoptee

When I was about 14 or so, my dad took me to Morocco. We went to visit the family he stayed with while he had been in the peace corps. And I was such a brat. I was scared, in my own defense. I didn't want to be there. Having been conditioned to avoid any idea of origin, I wasn't excited to see people who looked like me. Being adopted is a blessing, but the confusion of it all is rarely talked about. We're not supposed to make noise about it, we adoptees. It sounds ungrateful. As though the life we were given is being judged, or called not good enough. Not every adopted person has this experience, but I’ve spoken to enough to know that a silent theme exists. It's a shame that to answer the echo of our ancestry is a challenge to anyone, because at the root of it is a notion of snubbed charity. When people find out I'm adopted, everything shifts. As a kid I was often uncomfortable around my friends moms, because I had experienced the sad gaze of so many when hearing nearly anything about my background. It wasn't their fault. They didn't know any better, and they always truly had bleeding hearts. But I didn't want or need that, I mostly just wanted to watch tv with their kid. The habitual othering, the constant reminders of being different made me dig my heels into normality. I would prove it. I would force it. I would ignore everything that made me feel aware of my difference and when I got old enough, I would damage my life for it. I wanted to understand, but couldn't. I guess there was a kind of misshapen jealousy, and I never knew what to do with it.

Sometimes people, particularly the elderly, will comment on what a blessing it must have been to be adopted, and what good wonderful parents I must have to have done such a thing. And they aren't wrong. Except the plural part. Just one parent, not two. But the imprint after so many moments like this becomes a deep lie of a knowing. The lie tells me in a gentle coo that identity cannot and should not be explored, because to do so would be disrespectful to what's been given. That to have an identity is wrong.

Thankfully my dad, the man who adopted me, isn't without understanding of my heritage. We were brought together by fate. As a young man, he was stationed in Morocco for years with the Peace Corps. That's how I fell into his life. The last time I went back to Elgara, there was a young woman there from the Peace Corps who was shocked to meet me since the last person to be stationed there was my dad. She said that all of her training was basically a series of stories about him.

So often we are unaware of our origin, and our legacy- which is why both are worth keeping in mind. We are much more than what we share on any app, and the journey to self discovery happens through the risks, challenges, pleasures and pains of learning to dance through our lives. It can be hard, and there are a lot of falls, missteps, and fuck ups. But hey, we get back up. Or we don't. But we choose regardless.

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The Advent of the Earthling

I’ve been noticing a few articles about Climate Grief, feverishly circulating the platforms of social media. I've seen a lot of counter-posts about the psychological effects of emergency tabloidism or what’s come to be called "destruction porn," as well as counter-counter arguments, passionately denoting the damage of living passively while the world runs out of time. 

I wonder if the obsessive awareness, discussion, tiny-screen-fights and supposed understanding of these immediate and large topics is overshadowing the action of possible solutions. I also wonder if this grief is largely due to what the very recent introduction of social media has offered us collectively. We have this new opportunity to witness and interact (from a safe distance) with the events of the world as they play out endlessly. Good news, bad news, good news, bad news, bad news, bad news, good news, bad news, bad news, bad news, bad news, bad news, bad news good news bad news bad news.

Maybe the world has gotten worse through the lens of perception, and I think that grief, no matter the cause, must be honored. To dismiss grief as irrelevant is horrorsom and cruel. 

What would happen if we each decided on one thing and did it? Something such as, "I'm going to dedicate time to a garden, and I'm going to start with lettuce," or "I'm going to learn how to weave a basket from local invasive plants," or "I'm going to pay attention to the life cycle of dandelions for one year." What would then happen if we all shared what we discovered? I think this is kind of a personal exploration of solutions, because I often become stuck staring wide-eyed at the horizon of unsolvable problems that I end up sinking into the sand; transfixed, heartbroken, and finally numbed by the vastness. I forget that we were never meant to absorb so much, and that things such as self-awareness and growth take time - especially when time feels sensitive, and strangely so changeable. But maybe the solution begins with patience, service, and - here's the hard one - learning to make peace with failure. 

I watched a documentary recently entitled The Biggest Little Farm, which spans the course of about 12 years. It’s about two folks who leave the city to begin their lives anew as farmers, starting from less than scratch. And during their gradual climb, their successes are sprinkled with a healthy dose of failure. Being part of an effective ecosystem or community means learning through failure. This is probably the only way to learn. To try, and try again. Failure is an opportunity to observe, and be creative through a fresh approach. Nothing more. Of course it's exhausting, but what's lost in "quick and easy" is the sense of satisfaction. Humans were made to face challenge. In fact, it's part of our greater purpose. If it wasn't, we wouldn't be so ceaselessly, relentlessly busy. We wouldn't be filling the best parts of our day with menial activities. At our core, we ultimately love to be productive because that's what we've done best as a species. I think it's just a matter of learning to redirect our energies to something more useful. And we'll get there. 

I had a flash of enlightenment just a few days ago while dipping into revery about the personal sensation of farming. Despite being hot, exhausted, dehydrated, frustrated, freezing, wet and consistently sore, there was something about it that I still believe in and miss every day. I spent my time connected to life, planting seeds and watching them grow like miracles. I was bonded with life forms in all sizes; hundreds of plants, thousands of insects and animals, millions of microorganisms, growing them to keep other humans like me alive, too. The smell of the soil when it was dry versus when it was wet was a neverending lesson. The crowding and retreating of the tomatoes, and the resulting relief of healthy propagation after being given space offered by the help of human hands was a lesson. The deer that kept finding new mysterious ways into the fields, arriving in the dark and leaving before the light, and eating all the greens was also a lesson. I spent my days learning from the greatest teachers around. And in reflecting on it, I wonder if my idea of humans as pests or a virus is all wrong. Perhaps we were born from this planet to be of service to it. Maybe we were invented as something of a support system. There's this idea that if we just leave things alone, that if we just disappeared, that the earth would be fine. In our self-loathing, we also disregard our responsibility - and maybe that's why it's become so popular to be a species that hates itself. If we know we are not worthy, then we can wallow and wait for our eviction notice, going about business as usual until then. But if we recognize our worth, then oh shit, maybe we have to take charge and understand that we're actually amazing and can do anything. We can even solve the unsolvable. 

I believe that humans are here for a reason. I also have begun thinking that despite having great purpose, we're also complete toddlers. A very young species learning big things, like what emotions are, what identity is, and how to exist in this world without killing it in the process. I think we can, and thankfully our home planet is a pretty patient teacher; biding her time as we play, fight, multiply, and learn through joy and pain alike. Just as children do. It’s of course important to look back and learn from the past, but to idealize something with only a margin of the details is unfair to a prosperous future. Extremes often leave us even further confused and angry. The past acts as parents, fuzzy in the background as we learn to walk on our own. We want to go back to the crib, the nest, the womb - but cannot. The only option from here is to boldly risk the odds, which, when done, has been the greatest choice imaginable. Bravely going forward together elevates us into more than just humans. We become earthlings. Because to simply coexist is not enough. We must now learn to interthrive.

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The Unnatural Death of the Amazon

shot on 35mm expired film

The Amazon Rainforest covers 2.7 million square miles. This space includes Brazil, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Venezuela, French Guiana, Bolivia, Guyana, and Suriname. Cattle takes up the most space. That's beef. The logging industry, palm oil, pineapples, chocolate, coffee beans, bananas, sugar, soy, coconuts, and vanilla are also responsible for this mind-bogglingly rampant deforestation.

We currently lose 150 acres of the Amazon per minute. In all honesty, if this is the "official number," I'll assume it's a lot higher in reality. For now, let’s assume this number is real. That's 9,000 acres per hour. 14 miles, every hour. In a full 24 hours, we lose up to 336 miles of the Amazon Rainforest. The lungs of our world, earths largest rainforest and home to over 10 million species of animals, plants and insects (that have been discovered), over 300 types of edible fruit alone, and an endless array of medicinal plants - gone. It's also the ancestral home to over 400 tribes, all with their own customs, traditions, and languages. Brazil's portion of the Amazon is home to more uncontacted tribes than anywhere else in the world. The Basin is very badly quantified, but there are an estimated 20 million people who call the Basin home, and have for millennia.

I haven't even mentioned oil spills either, which there were over 7 of in 2016. How many since then? How many before? Finding information on oil spills and their damage to the Amazon River Basin is insanely tricky because people are literally murdered for trying to share the truth about the matter. (see: "They Killed Sister Dorothy" or the Vice documentary “Murder in the Amazon” and wormhole from there).

As a human family, what is going on? The 1% of the world live in such a constant state of self-importance that causes the turn of an infinite blind eye to the truth. And what's worse is that the system we're in can't really be escaped, because it was built around us. We never walked through any gates to get here, we were just born right into it, and raised to believe it's normal. "Business as usual," which is the ultimate oxymoron.

The modern solution to being upset is taking it to the internet and saying "we" a lot. Like this: "WE MUST DO MORE," and so on. But I'm going to just speak for myself here, and say I'm going to do more. I have to, because right now, simply by the way I live my life, I have so much blood and oil on my hands. I'm responsible for the murder of the earth, because I have to have things just so. I've been raised to think this, not by the evil of any one person or people, but just because I happen to live in a place that is privileged and kept far away from the larger realities. Because of sustained cultural ignorance. I don't know what I can do to reverse anything on my own. What I do intend to do is live in a way that I know will create a difference for myself, my partner, and the little person who lives with us half of the week. The most powerful thing I can possibly do is live by example, and that's a lot harder than just talking about what "we" should do. Really, it's a weird social blaming tactic, and one of personal avoidance. Time to look myself in the face and take responsibility, because this shit is truly the shame of the world made real.

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Creating, Creation

Science and spirit both show us continually the direct relationship between fiction and empathy.

I cry ugly and laugh loud when I watch movies, and I become critically hinged into a world when I read a book. I'll find myself wondering what certain characters are doing, how they might handle a situation I'm in, or want to ask them questions about their backstory. This is the kind of curiosity I think we should feel about others. It's not exclusively curious, either. It's laced with respect and compassion.

I read the news. Typically I wake up, have coffee and look at what's making headlines. I use this phrase not noting what the broad spectrum of current events might be, but specifically to emphasize what sound bubbles are big enough to float to the top, and subsequently explode over the surface. I remember when the Shell Oil refinery had a malfunction in my high school town. There was a massive explosion of thick hot chemicals. My friends garden and her moms car had been speckled with the stuff; thick and permanent. Their house was at least 3 miles away from the source. It's wild how far and how fast sludge can travel, whereas the lightness of empathic awareness is, mostly, an individual pursuit of the moment. Moving through, rather than blanketing on.

Maybe book clubs are saving the world. Maybe museums are a kind of medicine vault worth protecting. Movie theaters are a kind of church. Libraries too; both with their smells and silence. These are the places I love, that make me better, that love me without conditions or expectations. All I have to do is show up and say yes, I want to get torn open today.

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Hope and the Ancestors of the Coming Seasons

Hope is fragile. Precious. Hope catches the light. Splitting the darkness. Revealing your destiny.”

- Aughra, the Dark Crystal, Age of Resistance

I don’t know about you folks, but I’ve been gripped by the excitement of returning to the world of The Dark Crystal since the new series was announced. I’ve only watched the first episode which prompted a thought sparked by a particular scene involving a family heirloom containing the final wisdom of one gelfling’s mother, and a tithing ceremony in which she is asked to give it up to honor the holy faculty of the collusive Skeksis.

How often have we been asked to give up something that we believe, or that we hold close to our hearts for the false or vague notion of the betterment of the whole? Some people have had to go to extremes to ensure the safety of their traditions, values, or morals. Some turn away from institutions, and some even sacrifice their family ties for the sake of their own path. Through this kind of bravery, we often find a new community based upon others who couldn’t bare to lose sight of themselves, or were not willing to subjugate themselves and others to hatred- or to what they simply felt to be wrong. It does however often come at great cost.

In the case of this little gelfling, she is not only asked to give up a generational talisman - she is asked - rather, forced - to give away her ancestral wisdom. When we do such things, we are forcibly cut off from the ties that make us what we are. So many of us have been left floating without roots to ground us, which is why the calling to rekindle the ancestral flame now cries out from our burning hearts. This call must not be ignored, distracted away, or shrugged off. Our species may rely on this very wisdom buried within our souls. Like rings of a felled tree, we each contain the truths of our past. These are the final parting gifts from our lineage, little statues of truth whispering their collected lessons - and what we will continue to pass on. They’ve perhaps become whittled over the many lost years, but like a living being, they have the chance to grow again anew.

Our methods have failed us, and humanity is going unquestionably mad. Whether discussed openly or not, I’d guess that the majority of us now realize that nothing we’ve come to normalize is actually normal. Celebrity, wealth, poverty, population, our blindfolded relationship with food, the routine abuse of animals, careers and the life that’s drained from them, the system called healthcare, taxes, the deification of money, sensationalized violence, the habitual depletion of natural resources, careening towards potential extinction while maintaining our regular diet of commercialized existence - the list goes on. How could one species sustain so much? Yet the safety net of routine, the day-to-day A to B, is stronger than the impulse to change. In fact, none of us are quite sure how to get off of this ride that we’ve worked so hard to build. We look at the ground longingly, wishing to touch down once again as we’re sure our ancestors had - and close we might come, we’re carried up again in one swift motion, back into the endless loop-de-loop- all at once together and alone.

I don’t have any heirlooms, or even familiar blood relatives to turn to for guidance. I’m an adopted person living in America, having been born in Morocco and of Mozabite roots. These details are small, but I’m blessed to have them. To know any information about who we are and where we come from - any at all - is a sacred key. If used, it is sure to open an inner gate containing a couple more. It’s a manyfolded journey to the self, and as we swim through the layers of spirit, we find that we are not and never have been alone.

This is a time of change in more ways than one. As the days carry on their pace towards autumn, the morning and evening winds begin reminding us of the coming months, and the promise of a sacred death and rebirth. This oncoming season of stillness is but another turn of the wheel. The planet spins, and we spin with her. How we approach the chance to hold these changes, embody them, and bring them to truth will be reflected in our lives, and the life of the planet that so graciously gives. Our world serves as the most honest and consistent mirror. Feeling strange about the state of things? Talk about it. Share and discuss with those you know and trust. Spend time amongst the trees, too. You don’t have to suffer in silence, nor must you comply to the ongoing normalization of a sick society. The only way to create change is to change ourselves. If our great mother earth has taught us anything, it is to start small, and grow.

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The Music of Haruki Murakami

When he was 15 years old, Haruki Murakami saw a concert that laid fresh stones towards a thicket of life in the unconventional. The show was Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, performing in Kobe during the spring of 1964. It feels important to note that this performance featured Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Curtis Fuller on trombone, Wayne Shorter on sax, and Cedar Walton on piano - simply because I hear this exact same celebrated lineup named on KMHD all the time. Almost daily. And here I am, passively listening to the music that changed the life of someone who changed mine. Pay attention, Sera! This is a love story!⁣
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10 years later, Haruki postponed college to open a jazz club in Tokyo called Peter Cat. This is where he spent the following 7 years writing his first 2 novels. Of course they should fall under the genre of magical realism, since this is how he lived. We exist through what we create, self-birthing and dying in our seasons- and what we create directly shapes how we live. ⁣
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"I didn't write anything. I was just one of those ordinary people. I was running a jazz club, and I didn't create anything at all," he said. Which, is wild because through time-travel-vision, he basically managed to transmute his 15 year old passion into reality. But passions change. To me, this translates into a clear message. While being busy, it's hard to focus. The ping of creativity falls farther and farther away. But "busy" can be like nature, offering a slow renaissance amidst a blurry pace. Life and the growth that ensues is in fact inspired by it. Maybe then it is up to us to say, "thank you, busy life. I understand now," and get to the real work. The stuff of legacy, and the magic dust we leave behind. ⁣

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The New Concentration Camp of America: A Resource Guide

WARNING: Some details in this post and links herein have extensive, detailed descriptions of inhumane and abusive conditions. Most linked pieces lack content/trigger warnings. Please be mindful of your exposure and mental stability while engaging.

“Extermination is not the actual goal of concentration camps, although many do die in them. They are a form of administrative detention — a way to detain civilians without a trial. Concentration camps made civilians into proxies in order to get at combatants who had dared defy the ruling power.”

— Andrea Pitzer, author of One Long Night: a Global History of Concentration Camps

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Families and individuals from countries including Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador and Mexico are coming to the American border seeking aid. As poverty, violence, and politically triggered crime continue to consume Honduras and Guatemala in particular, for some fleeing has become the only option offering any semblance of hope. The current Trump administration’s “no tolerance” policy, which was designed as a deterrent for migrants, has proven to be woefully ineffective, even with the risk of separation and captivity. This alone should prove the desperation they are struggling through, and the severity of their situations.

On February 20th, a young woman named Mirian arrived at the Texas border carrying her 18-month-old son. They had fled their home in Honduras through a cloud of tear gas, she told border agents, and needed protection from the political violence there. She had hoped she and her son would find refuge together. The agents ordered her to place her son in the back seat of a government vehicle, she said later in a sworn declaration to a federal court. They both cried as the boy, only a year and a half old, was driven away. One week later in a Congressional hearing, a Department of Health and Human Services official admitted that the government had lost track of about 1,500 migrant children.

Human beings like you and I are being held at migrant camps along our southern border. It’s happening, right now. They are living in crowded, unsanitary, and cruel conditions intended only to break the spirits of those detained. There are children, many of whom are sick. Six have died since last year. Most of the young detainees of these facilities have not been able to shower or wash their clothes since they arrived. They have no access to toothbrushes, toothpaste, or soap - all of which are confiscated upon arrival. Many, some as young as 2 years old, have been locked away for over a month. Consider how you feel after not bathing for a few days. Add closed quarters, and a lack of fresh air and water. Thousands of families have been separated, many who will never be reunited again.

At Fort Sill Army post in Oklahoma, where the Trump administration plans to indefinitely detain 1,400 immigrant and refugee children starting next month, Japanese elders and World War II Japanese-American internment camp survivors held a peaceful protest of these conditions, along with the descendants of survivors and others who joined in support.

Tsuru for Solidarity member and former Japanese Internment camp child incarceree Dr. Satsuki Ina says, “seventy-five years ago, 120,000 of us were removed from our homes and forcibly incarcerated in prison camps across the country. We’re here today to protest the repetition of history. Unlike 1942, when America turned their backs on us while we were disappearing from our homes, our schools, our farms and our jobs — we’re here today to speak out, to protest the unjust incarceration of innocent people seeking refuge in this country. We stand with them and we say, ‘Stop repeating history.'"

Have we collectively forgotten that seeking asylum in this country has long been a basic right? Are we simply too distracted by our own reflection to care? People seeking refuge being treated so shamelessly, detained illegally, and turned a blind eye to collectively is a sad and inhumane retelling of history. One that is now happening in droves. It will continue, unless the public decides to take it upon themselves - ourselves - to enact change.

ENACT verb

en·act | \ i-ˈnakt

To establish by legal and authoritative act specifically : to make into law- enact a bill.

Read these descriptions from a series of recent news reports from the border, describing in detail the horrors that we are tolerating.

From The Associated Press:

“A 2-year-old boy locked in detention wants to be held all the time. A few girls, ages 10 to 15, say they’ve been doing their best to feed and soothe the clingy toddler who was handed to them by a guard days ago. Lawyers warn that kids are taking care of kids, and there’s inadequate food, water and sanitation for the 250 infants, children and teens at the Border Patrol station. Three girls told attorneys they were trying to take care of the 2-year-old boy, who had wet his pants and had no diaper and was wearing a mucus-smeared shirt when the legal team encountered him.”

From an ABC News report on Friday:

“At another Border Patrol station in McAllen, Texas, attorney Toby Gialluca said all the children she talked to last week were very sick with high fevers, coughing and wearing soiled clothes crusted with mucus and dirt after their long trip north. ‘Everyone is sick. Everyone. They’re using their clothes to wipe mucus off the children, wipe vomit off the children. Most of the little children are not fully clothed,’ she said.”

ABC News also obtained a medical declaration from board-certified physicians who visited two border patrol holding facilities in Texas two weeks ago. In that declaration, physician Dolly Lucio Sevier wrote: “The conditions within which they are held could be compared to torture facilities.” The children were experiencing extreme cold temperatures. They were in holding areas where the lights were left on 24 hours a day. They weren’t able to wash their hands. Teen mothers weren’t able to wash out bottles for their babies. All the children seen at these facilities showed signs of trauma.

WHAT CAN WE DO?

There is all at once so much information to take in, and several resource guides to consider. Routes can be very difficult to navigate. Indecision, guilt, and grief are stressful and draining. With these aspects being recognized, my first suggestion is this:

Pick one specific action and commit to it. It’s completely okay to start small. Please try to not judge your actions before they even begin. Otherwise you will likely remain frozen, inactive, and locked by overwhelm.

⫷ FACILITATE, EDUCATE, DISCUSS AND SHARE

It’s really daunting to be the only person willing to bring a heavy handed topic to the table. One that nobody in a comfortable environment is asking for. However, these realities will only continue and brutality will win if people aren’t first willing to look at the reality. Discuss these issues at work, have dialogues with your partner(s), roommates, friends and children. Do not be afraid of asking yourself and others questions like, “how am I holding myself accountable? How are we holding each other accountable? What would we be able to do within our own community to help? How can we further the visibility of these individuals and their situation?” Do your best to avoid cross-talk, interruption, or argumentative tones.

A good place to begin is to google “immigrant justice” along with the town or city you live in. Find out what you can do at home too, because exploitation and erasure exists everywhere. Working from where you live is a step in dismantling the fabrics of white supremacist ideology that we all take part in. Discuss the rights and plights of others, and consider what the experience is like for folks other than yourself. Educate yourself as if you were in their shoes. Why are they seeking asylum? What is life like in their home country? What are their rights? These are the very things that we should be working to reinforce, understand, and support. A simple starting point is this short video by the ACLU.

United We Dream is a wonderful resource for dialogues of all kinds, from open family gatherings to one on one meetings with friends.

⫷ DONATE MONEY

For immigrants detained in the United States, freedom is expensive, ranging $1,500 or as high as $80,000. Posting their bail is the fastest way any of these individuals can be helped, and there are organizations and nonprofits working to collect donations and distribute them to grant these people their deserved freedom as well as legal representation. Several of these options also include the chance to ensure people have access to basic human rights, such as fresh water, medical care, shelter and hygiene, clean clothes, and hot meals. Reference the National Bail Fund Network to find information about where you live.

• Angry Tias & Abuelas delivers financial support to local shelters; transportation to and from bus stations, airports and shelters; and emergency food, water, clothing and toiletries to individuals and families seeking asylum. They are accepting donations.

• RAICES is a nonprofit that provides free and low-cost legal services to immigrant children, families and refugees in Texas. It’s accepting donations and volunteers at its website

• Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley provides a place for men, women and children to rest, have a warm meal, shower, change into clean clothes, as well as receive medicine and other supplies.

• Border Kindness provides migrants, refugees, and the displaced with comprehensive services that include food, shelter, clothing and medical care. Our programs and interventions are designed to identify, protect and nurture the most vulnerable – including women, children, elderly and families.

• The ACLU has worked to defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution and laws of the United States, and has done for almost 100 years.

• Immigrant Justice Now is working to provide supplies, like bus tickets, Pedialyte, shoes, prepaid cellphones and underwear, to immigrant families and children.

• Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center provides legal representation to asylum seekers, currently accepting donations.

• The Human Rights Initiative of North Texas provides free legal services to immigrants who are seeking asylum in the U.S. and immigrants who are victims of violence.

• The Migrant Center for Human Rights is providing free and low-cost legal services for detained asylum seekers in Texas.

• The Val Verde Border Humanitarian Coalition supports refugees by providing them with access to phones, restrooms, showers, laundry and warm meals. 

• The Young Center for Immigrant Children’s Rights is accepting donations that will go toward providing more child advocates for immigrant kids inside the detention centers weekly and accompany them to immigration proceedings.

• Together Rising is collecting money that'll go toward defenders, prosecutors and advocates who are working to reunify immigrant children with their families.

⫷ CONTACT CONGRESS, YOUR MAYOR, AND YOUR STATE REPRESENTATIVES NOW

Yes this comes up around every issue, and rightly so because it’s effective. Furthermore, it takes you so little time. Don’t know who your reps are? That’s okay, reference THIS WEBSITE and find out in a flash. From here, you can click on each representative and get their number and address. Call and write.

RAICES has provided a very fast and simple way to send a drafted letter to your state reps, which you are able to edit at your discretion. CLICK HERE to partake and follow these incredibly easy steps.

SUGGESTED WRITTEN TEMPLATE:

Dear [Representative/Senator],

I am deeply concerned and saddened by the announcement of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids coming to my community. The raids are inappropriately named "Family Op" and they couldn't be more detrimental to all American families. My friends and neighbors are scared and many of them feel they are under attack. This amounts to domestic terrorism. ICE plans to target 2,000 families but even one raid in my neighborhood will spread fear across my entire community. We DO NOT want this to happen in our community. Will you join with me, my friends and neighbors to defund ICE, put pressure on local ICE offices, and stop the immigration raids? We need to stop this. Mass indiscriminate raids are NOT the answer.

Please help our neighbors.

FOR OVER THE PHONE:

Hi, my name is ______ and my zip code is______. I demand that you do not use my taxpayer money to provide funding for the Department of Homeland Security, immigration policies, increased detention, or an unnecessary border wall or barrier. These are serious violations to human rights. Thank you for your time.

Hi, my name is ______ and my zip code is______. Please do your part in defunding ICE, putting pressure on local ICE offices, and stopping the immigration raids. These are our valued community members who are afraid for their lives, and I ask you do your part in protecting them. Thank you for your time.

⫷ HOST A COMMUNITY GATHERING, PROTEST, OR VIGIL

Protest marches and other civic actions to end detention camps are expected across the country in the coming weeks. These can only happen through the bravery of those willing to initiate them. Start with a group text, a mass email, or a Facebook post. Pick a day, and ask friends to help you organize. Remember, protest changes society, creates visibility, and tells people that they are not alone. Protest is your right. Protest is powerful, and does create change.

Lights for Liberty is aiding in the organization of public peaceful displays of protest. Reference their work and website HERE for more information. They plan to hold a nationwide vigil on July 12 at 9 p.m. local time.

⫷ PREPARE FOR THE NEXT PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

Human rights should be at the forefront of any viable candidates policies. Be sure you are checking in on what they each plan to enforce while also reflecting on their past policies. Think and consider critically, and when able, ask them questions directly. Take to Twitter, attend rallies, and pose questions on public forums. The New York Times recently interviewed the Democratic presidential candidates on their plans and objectives, which you can see HERE.

The governmental system is not one I agree with, though it is what we currently have to work with. To turn away from the responsibility of partaking in democracy is to hand a feral country to the next generation. Do your part by taking part.

⫷ TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, TAKE CARE OF YOUR COMMUNITY

This is heartbreaking, grief inducing, numbing and often spirit snapping work. It’s essential that you take time to come up for air. It’s very easy to get unknowingly sucked into these tragedies, draining all hope from ourselves which leaves us in an even more emotionally vulnerable and unreinforced state than before. Like preparing for a marathon, take time to train. Make space in your day to ingest news and partake in dialogue. Limit your time to half an hour when you’re on your own. Take breaks. Set an alarm if you need to. The sensation of lostness will not support anyone, and the debilitating guilt is a product of culturally reinforced white and wealthy fragility that must be looked past for progress to take place. Use, don’t abuse your platform and privilege. Rest, meditate, cry, laugh. Partaking in the beauty of life is essential to its survival. Be sure to engage in art and creativity while employing resistance. These can and must coexist.

Check in with others around these issues. Ask folks how their hearts are, and if they need anything. Reach out to others if you are in need, too. Let friends and family know when you are feeling particularly resilient and strong, or when you are unable to cope and need either support or space. Act with love, listen with love, speak with love.

The names of the six children who have died in US detention centers:

• Darlyn Cristabel Cordova-Valle, 10, of El Salvador

• Felipe Gomez Alonzo, 8, of Guatemala

• Wilmer Josué Ramírez Vásquez, 2, of Guatemala

• Carlos Hernandez Vásquez, 16, of Guatemala

• Jakelin Caal Maquín, 7, of Guatemala

• Juan de León Gutiérrez, 16, of Guatemala

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Sensing Ancestors: Bridging the Gap

I’m North African, though I was adopted and raised in the United States by a family of Scottish and Irish heritage. I often have ancestors from my blood lineage as well as my adopted family visit me- sometimes in dreams, and other times through intuitive guidance- which is somewhat strange since I’ve been aware of the historic relevance of both, but generally new to their personal significance. I find that it’s become normal to get so caught up in my day-to-day busy little life that I forget to find out who I am, where I come from, and practice actual gratitude for those who got me here. Getting in touch with ancestral wisdom is an important opportunity and responsibility to understand ourselves with a clearer view, a more critical and empathic heart, and a willingness to face a life of probable challenge as those who came before us have done.

Most of us are an amalgam of several places, traditions, and origins – all while developing our own individuality. This offers a very real chance for reparation between lineages that may once have been at war, or even particular individuals or groupings who never had the chance to establish amnesty. You have availability to make bad blood a bit better, and wiser. What’s more is that in teaching future generations to follow this lead by way of example, they will inevitably impart even greater capacity for healing as people continue to grow, intermingle, change, and dig through the muck of historical inaccuracy. Sexism, racism, genderphobia, bigotry, and patriarchal control have done substantial damages on much of the worlds magic. It’s time to reclaim these parts of who we are, but with a willingness to educate ourselves, and be educated. Find what feels true, and choose wisely. Without being informed or with willingness to learn the truth of our own heritage through community, history, spirit and stories, it is all too easy to self-appropriate. Drifting further into the season of the Thin Veil, we find ourselves in a particularly powerful time of the year to cultivate new personal skills based on ones once necessary for ancestral survival. Learn and practice, but do so critically. Be mindful of what may be over-harvested, over-used, or under-represented. Continue to ask ancestors, “should this be applied in such a way?” “Will this honor you and our shared heritage as well as the vulnerable state of this modern Earth?” “What needs to change, and how might I change it?” 

It’s entirely fair and encouraged to act intuitively. You may even discuss such matters spiritually with your ancestral lines and other guides. Perhaps some of the ancient ways don’t sit well with you. Take it upon yourself to change the outdated and noninclusive. Maybe a traditional meal is centered around meat and you’re a vegetarian. Perhaps one tradition was originally reserved for cis men only, and you don’t identify as such. Follow your guidance, welcome and listen to your ancestors who love you and have only their best intentions for you, and discuss with trusted others too if you wish. This is, all at once, an individual journey and a shared advancement in evolution. Where once we mostly survived in the brain, we now move closer to thriving in the heart.

SIGHT

When connecting with ancestors and future generations to come, visual meditations are often a powerful tool of wide recognition- perhaps one of the first true spiritual tools of our species. What was it that your ancestors saw that made them who they were? That made them who you are? These could be the plants of your homelands, or even photographs of structures, living spaces, or nature of a respective region. What beauties and atrocities alike were witnessed? Joy and grief both can and should be honored as part of the experience of your lineage. What art heralds back to your ancient family? How could you now partake in it? Use your eyes to drink in these details, and perhaps create some yourself. Decorate your home with the colors, textures, and flora of your ancestors.

SOUND

What are the sounds of the people you’ve been, and places your blood and spirit have called home? The music? What songs did they sing, and when? What instruments were common, and how did they apply to ceremonies, rituals, or play? Which animals could be heard during the day, or at night? What does language sound like? Has time given it a new shape? Perhaps take moments to intentionally speak some words of your ancestral tongue. If you do not speak this language, whatever it may be, take time to learn a phrase of gratitude. Dance to the music and feel your body change, activated with the heat of beating hearts, all which now live within you – and which you will also pass on.   

SMELL

What grew in these lands? Being from Morocco, I smell mint and fresh baked bread and remember something from long ago. Dry dirt on the wind and wet animal hide ignite these old memories too. Which cultural, natural embellishments carry this power for you? Does the dewy fragrance of wet marshlands conjure sudden insight? Or cinnamon and rice? What traditional resins or plants were burned in these lineages? Fresh flowers and crushed herbs can be used to create a warm and welcoming space for ancestors, as well as prepared meals that were once and perhaps still enjoyed as customary. Fill your home and your lungs, and feel the breath of your lineage expand once again.  

TASTE

Smell and taste are so closely conjoined…but rather than simply ingesting something through the lungs, you are physically making it part of your body. It is now an aspect of your living form. A single letter of your lifelong story, which reaches back to before you were born. To taste is powerful enough, as is ruminating on the revolution of flavor to a place and its people. Deeply consider what it does to our psyche and spirit. However, I recommend taking this a step further and prepare what you consume. You not only learn about the flavors and textures, but you physically find awareness of the past in your present actions. Ancestors love to experience through us once again, and to cook is to pay the deepest respects for the work that went into keeping a people alive. As the wheel of the year changes, it may be worth considering growing some ancestral herbs, too.

TOUCH

Textiles tell stories. Colors create webs of light, reaching back in time and forward to the future. How does it feel to be shrouded in the cloth that once kept your same blood in a different body warm? What customs were necessary to create these garments and goods? Weaving? Tanning? Dyeing? Carving? What crafts were developed and maintained over generations to make these things possible? Are you willing to take them on, and keep them alive? We are blessed to now have access to so much, yet often are bogged down by options in the modern world – as well as pressures to keep consuming. What if we accessed even a portion of the old ways? Something as inconsequential as spinning yarn from wool, harvesting herbs to dry, carving a spoon, or visiting a flax field destined to become linen will surely awaken awareness and respect; likely that had always been there, but waited for us to meet it halfway.

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Mother! And The Power of Catharsis

Allegorical Horror has quickly become my favorite genre of film.

I don’t think I’m alone in this experience, either. As this style of storytelling becomes more popular, each film unfolds as the viewer’s very own cinematic therapy experience. I got to thinking about films of this genre that I have fallen in love with and what they each represent as monstrous entities within culture, such as The Witch (faith gone awry), The Babadook (mental torment borne of despair and loss), Get Out (the Black experience in a predominantly white culture), or even Let the Right One In (friendship and bullying amidst cultural bias). These play off of some original heavy hitters which were perhaps far campier but still deeply important to cinema history such as Videodrome, Carrie, and They Live. All have very real messages that relate to the human experience.

In our modern age of creative visual storytelling, there’s a sense that comedy and horror have somehow swapped seats. Horror was once based on camp, cheap thrills, often exploitative and sexual- and comedy, though having similar habits, would explore social taboos and offer some insight to ordinarily uncomfortable subjects, made digestible through laughter. Siamese twins but with their own relatability. We don’t live in a funny world. We exist in a time that is challenging, and often depressing. For this reason, maybe horror feels more honest.

I left the theater yesterday after seeing Mother!, and a huddle of 5 young men were behind me. One said, “well, that was…a movie…” They all exchanged awkward laughs with their hands shoved in their pockets. This movie likely will not make sense if you firstly don’t know that it’s meant to be an allegory. If you’re expecting a fright fest, it’s probably not for you. If you’re willing to explore your own life and emotions, you might enjoy it. My partner said it was one of the most important movies he’s ever seen, and it offered him the chance to self-reflect. It did the same for me as well, in a different way.

There’s a scene towards the beginning where the main characters, a husband and wife, are in their kitchen- and the husband, indicating to two glasses, says “can I get these?” “I got it,” the wife says. Without glancing at her, he grabs them anyway and fills them with water at the table. She has a very subtle, inner pause. It’s so small you could miss it. This moment opens us up to their dynamic. Imagine if The Shining were remade to focus entirely on the experience of the mild mannered Wendy. Shelly Duvall’s character isn’t given much of a chance to tell the audience how she feels, living with such a megalomaniacal, ego-driven madman. Here it feels important to note that the husband in Mother!, is also a writer.

In a bizarre way, I found this movie to be empowering. At times it’s hilarious, including conversations I’ve actually found myself in (with partners, other women, or myself). At other times it was disturbing and painfully upsetting, in the way it can be when you identify with a character who personifies parts of yourself you cringe to witness the most. I read a few reviews that claimed the movie was good, but Jennifer Lawrence just “didn’t sell it,” to which I respectfully disagree. After decades of the entertainment industry demanding that women lose themselves in overacted dramatic meltdowns, this character is soft spoken and generally functions on a basis of peace. We’ve seen Jennifer Lawrence deliver characters with gruff voices, rolled shoulders, slumped or standing tall. She is an actor, and makes distinct choices for her characters. Her delivery seemed to clearly be based on choices. She follows through on them, maintaining the frightening consistency of a woman in shock.

This eerily reminded me of a fresh rendition of Lady Macbeth. She is one who disowns herself in favor of helping her husband murder another person for ascension and the crown. Afterwards, she falls into the background of the plot - that is, until she begins spiraling further and further, becoming dangerously unstable until her eventual death. This movie takes this concept of the Perfect Accommodating Wife and runs with it until it bleeds.

This film falls into some very strange terrain, which, if you’re open minded, will do a lot to express not just the effects of what a given situation does to a person, but to the global economy and populace. Oh, and this isn’t just a movie about people. From the words of the filmmaker, we should also be thinking of the experience of Mother Nature, suffocating as she tries to satisfy the narcissistic needs of humanity.

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