Until things change

I keep wondering if I should say something. Do I have anything to say? Am I enough in it to feel justified in my voice?  Am I enough on the periphery to recognize anything larger of value?

I could write a poem, a simple song, try to write some letter of encouragement, or another of complaint to a congress person, give a video lecture on the way things work, could teach skills for trauma, preach about morals to the crowd who are already praying with their feet. 

I could do more than I am doing, I know that. I just don't know what. 

I keep crying on and off when I listen to the news, have a spark of that trauma come back, that grief, that helplessness, that lament... and sometimes that fury, burning and bitter, with a rasp and a claw grasping for someone to blame. 

Cry over the death of a man I don't know, but who by all reports was a healer, and a peacemaker, and someone who could hold and honor something larger than himself, and who would run into the fire without thinking. 

I do not run into fires. That is not my way. If I had my way, I'd plan the fire from start to finish before the match was lit. I often freeze in the face of threat, I often freeze in the face of worry, freeze as I said, in place -contemplating a reason to start a fire for necessary warmth when one isn't naturally coming my way. And my limbs are shaking, and I tell her I am cold, but I am scared and full of anger and I don't know where to place the hostility. 

What is my little part, no need to be a savior, that's the mess that got us into this. If I've learned anything it's that following a leader without question will never get you where they say they are taking you. Make it great? Ha, make it sane again, just for a moment...

But that's the problem right there... we can't just go back to that old normal - that would be even more insane, even if it's tempting to lay the burden down when the patrols move onto the next city, to say we did our part... to pretend the corporate businesses supported us (when the truth is that we had to lasso and drag them to our direction), pretend our leaders did more than share words in front of a camera, pretend that families aren't still broken, missing Kleenexes of the disappeared in their waste baskets.  Back to work, back to school, back to daycare centers, hypervigilant, on guard for the next criticism or the next questioning, or the next tinted windows... but we will pretend like that's done and gone... and the marginalized will go back to the shadows, and the white majority will call themselves the moral victors and betray ourselves again. How many times will we shirk off our responsibility to make things better?

In the shower I daydreamed that maybe, like an organizer chooses their enemy* by voting the right one in, or calls out a corporation until they begrudgingly come into the light and then can be held as the model for the next one... maybe the universe has a role for us, maybe MN must be first to pay for its sins... maybe the Dakota war and the genocide that followed, and the Dred Scott decision, and the redlining, and the segregation, and the police violence and the inequality here in all its forms... maybe we were chosen first to extricate the poison, to bring the shame and evil out into the light, to carve away the debt we owe and make amends... and maybe through this ritual of bloodletting and marching, of songs, chants and candle lighting, of art and poster making, prayers and dancing, of mutual aid and legal observing, of shared rides and food deliveries, of whistles, of car horns, of calling out and calling in -through terror and bravery, and compassion, and basic human decency in the face of our own masked monsters, maybe we can get to something brighter. A land where no one is illegal, where all are treated with dignity and respect, where we all do better because we all do better. Melt away the impurities in our heart and allow that star on our new flag to shine brighter and stand for something more. Maybe we will be the first, passing the torch to bring clarity to each of those 49 other stars on a blood-soaked cloth. 

That is the work I guess, it won't be over...  

24th

 All night I felt like I had this reoccurring dream in which things were off, like reality was not what it was supposed to be. I kept getting these images throughout several dreams that there was like a blueprint version of life, and it did not match what we were living. It showed up sometimes on still images like a map, or a picture, and other times the entirety of my view, it was like everything was red shifted. Pink shifted. Like a drawing but the colors were all wrong. Like the printer was out of the ink that made things real. I kept noticing it, and not knowing what to do, not knowing how to even give words to it. I wasn’t sure if others were aware of it, I wasn’t sure if I should even be alarmed. Maybe that’s how it always was? Maybe the world I’ve known is the wrong one, maybe everything is supposed to be devoid of depth, of contrast, of shade, only half hued. 

I awoke this morning with a migraine. The kind I get when I sleep in too late, and need coffee like air. I checked my phone, stung in the forehead by light, I stumbled out of my bed for headache meds and coffee. And read that another observer was murdered at 26th and Nicollet. 

The videos were already everywhere, I knew the background well, knew the donut shop windows, knew every angle of that street. For hours that’s all I could think about, hoping the headache would diminish. Thinking about all the times I’ve walked up and down that street. 

9 am on a Saturday, we could have been taking E’s niece to get a donut. So that means there were children there. So that means the street I’ve probably spent the most time on in Minneapolis was a warzone. Dear god I hope they don’t burn it down. 

I started to get really scared by noon, I wasn’t sure what to do. They kept pushing back times of vigils because the streets weren’t safe. Then at some point the police just hit a three or four block area with tear gas and used it to move out. They gave the street back to the people. 

E and I went down there around 3-3:30 and it was the best decision. I couldn’t watch anymore, getting scared and angry, breaking down in tears every 15 minutes, waiting for new video angles of what was already horrific to watch. I wanted to scream that’s my neighborhood! But I don’t live there anymore, and why is it so personal? Shouldn’t it be about the man who died… of course.

But as we walked around and E pointing out all the familiar things, and me telling her about places I’d gone 15 years before I even met her… but it was safe. It was still there. And the people were loving and furious, but not a danger to our neighborhood. And so it was ok… they gave voice to my hurt, and I didn’t need to scream so loud in my lonely place.

It was fucking freezing and the restaurants and businesses opened up to give shelter and free coffee and bathrooms and it was community for community and it was beautiful. And E kept saying we would have done that, carafes of coffee and bathrooms and warm space for people. And I probably would have let her convince me that was enough.

After hours down there we were freezing and left. The streets felt a little less scary, though everyone is always looking out now. We talked about what it meant. About what was to come…

It’s not gonna get better right away. We know that.

Tonight I’ve been back on my phone and computer watching videos… it’s the crying and screaming that gets me now. I hear it and I hear my own.

I dunno… it feels unreal. It feels like this isn’t reality but it is… I know things are worse in other places, I know it has been worse here for so many… and throughout history. I’m just so heartbroken… and also proud of my people. 

Hbq

 Woke up this morning after a dream in which things were going wrong, I left my home without locking the door, and someone- maybe a disgruntled old roommate had taken all my living room furniture and who knows what else. I left my car on the street, maybe even left the car door open because I was holding too much. I walked away to drop the things, and when I returned the car had been towed, I walked up and down the streets to see if I could find it. I found myself in a different city, unfamiliar. But i felt on edge, like I had screwed up and was facing the consequences. But also, like I lost my security. Like I was now at the whims of the elements, and of any scary folks who wanted to take advantage of me. I was telling myself it’s just a hassle, I’ll have to get my car out of the impound lot, I’ll have to maybe change the locks and find out what else was stolen.  But I felt like shit because I knew it was my fault. I let my guard drop. 

42

 Feeling pretty shot right now.

Its like 7:15 pm and I am likely gonna go to bed soon. 

I started my birthday watching a protest in north minneapolis in the middle of the night. I woke up late with the song "a hard rains a-gonna fall" and about 40 minutes before my first appointment. Responded to birthday texts from my mom and dad, family, saw a bunch of shit on the news. Had 6 appointments and a lot of conversations inbetween with a former student and with Pete. It was all generally just a lot. 

At some point in the day I heard a parent and kid were picked up on the block E and I used to live on. 

At the end of the day i heard ICE was raiding the apartments by aquila and circling the school basically. 

I nearly had a panic attack in the car on the way to get dinner. I eyed everyone suspiciously at the Panda Express. I got angry and came home, still thinking about home. Still thinking about all the things I've seen, heard, experienced. Still wondering why I went to that funeral when I was 6, why they started a war, why they are destroying peoples lives when they could be helping instead. 

Im ready for bed. 

Fight mode

 It’s midnight, I’m still angry. Angry about violence. Angry about racism. Angry about my country and neighborhood being defiled. Angry about evil. Angry about evil being wrapped up in patriotism and being mislabeled truth or justice or whatever the fuck. Especially when the orange doesn’t even bother coding his bullshit. Take over a country, kill a mom, free a drug dealer or a scam artist, hide a child abuser. Meh… that’s America, tomorrow a mass shooting, the next day a new scandal. 

Angry that I’m allowing myself to be lured into trolls and angry that misinformation is so easily believed. Angry that I’m losing myself to hatred, rather than focusing on what is good, what is right, what is beautiful. 

I’m scared, I’m hurt, I’m disappointed. I’m furious. But my anger doesn’t serve a purpose tonight. So I need to treat it like a baby and take care of it. Tomorrow, maybe let it out again if it’s directed in the right place. Tonight be gentle with it. 

I’m proud of my people, but I hate that it feels like an us vs them. It shouldn’t be this way. 

A cask filled with all the emotions.

Yesterday we learned that the United States invaded and kidnapped the president of Venezuela, apparently without informing Congress, and without a plan in place for how to support or manage the aftermath. The cabinet and the president seem to disagree on the plans going forward, and the military certainly isn't able to jump in and structure the government for them... it seems like they are hoping the Vice President of the country will cave and restructure -meaning allow american oil companies back in... and that's about it. Now small threats have been renewed against Cuba, Mexico, Panama, Greenland. 

I think more disturbing than US intervention* which happens all the time, is this dismantling of norms and aspirations. No longer do we even put the mask of democracy or freedom, or even free markets on the banner. The rumors are that the president decided to strike when he saw the president of venezuela dancing in a video. No one is allowed to be happy, feel safe or stable... 

Anyway I wrestled with it a bunch yesterday and then last night I wrote up a big rant, and didn't post it. This morning I struggled to not wrestle again... I went to church and cried throughout. Cried for us, cried for them, cried for a world that should have been around the corner, but now will be another hundred years out. 

I found myself so angry in church. So angry, rage... at this. Like, whats the point?   And that was the question of the day... the church is wrestling with what are we doing?  the country is wrestling with it... I am wrestling with it.  Life can just keep going on, but are we doing anything about it?

This morning or last night, I was struggling with the fact that I am so angry, and cynical... but my cynicism doesn't help. I mean, what's the difference between this and my book? I wrote a story 10 years ago about how we would go to war with Iran, with Cuba, with Venezuela and Brazil. How China would attack us, and because we had idiots in charge, we'd fire back without thinking of the consequences... and we'd doom ourselves and half the world... all within a few years. 

I am not saying that is what is happening, but the ridiculous mess of it... the lack of cohesive thought, planning, morality, integrity of any kind...

In my book we were attacked, so we struck back... but in this world, the president is snubbed or laughed at and breaks international law and all norms... and then brags about  how we are gonna just "take over the country."   What is that?

This isn't a well thought out essay, I've just been avoiding doing anything today because I am not sure how to face any of it yet. My mind is going to the worst case scenarios, and the violence and futility of it all... and then I alternate between that and distraction and sugar, because...

I am so angry at the people of my own country for being stupid... for choosing this, for not seeing that empowering immoral men, leads to immorality. Like, some things are just so obvious. But even more I am realizing that I am mad at them for not believing we deserve better and fighting for it. 

The richest, most powerful country in the history of the world doesn't guarantee anything for its citizens, not stable housing, not healthcare, not education, not the right to vote, not the right to your own body, nothing... we will not choose to keep you safe, or ourselves safe, or give anything to ensure your future or our own. The greed and selfishness is soooo evil. And then you think about how this country came to be and its like... well yeah of course. 

But its horrendous. But my cynicism doesn't help. My condemnation. Even my lament.  

Where is the vision? Where is the imagination? Where is the hope?

The musician leading church lately played this version (I think). <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/La4vDsI3350?si=F9Kn22_Sdrvti8dV" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe>

I built this beautiful lego flower set yesterday. It's lovely. There are amazing people doing amazing work out there. I don't know bad people... I know people who are struggling and make poor decisions. So why does it collectively amount to a shit show, instead of beloved community?

Where do we turn the corner, what do we shoot for, how do we resist, and create beauty and art, and safety, and healing, and learning? 

It's hard for me not to go into the language of religion in these moments... it feels like evil is winning. REPENT all ye sinners! I mean... that's what it feels like. 

I want to be in a place where I can write a poem or a story or a lecture that says "hey, you deserve better... we deserve better."  But I feel so sad and angry right now, that I am barely typing what I am. 

At church they read this poem or essay about how queer people can't expect hope, or even to survive, but must live into the reality that we exist, that we are here, that we will always be here, and so our lives and our love are worth fighting for anyway. Sure you'll be tortured and burned at the stake, but what other choice is there? And it was soooooo depressing. And also true. What other choice do we have, we are not different than the generations that lived under empire before us. We were never different, we were just deluded. Maybe now we can name what is, and build from the rubble when we burn it all down. 

In my book, the people need a rallying point, a savior type or a villain to motivate them to take control, or make something of themselves. 

I dunno.

I watched a tarot video today that said I would meet someone soon, who was either haunted by or had the same muse that motivated them. Said I would hate the people around them. Said people would question why I was with them, but that it would make sense on a soul level, like it was destined. The last few days I have been feeling so very lonely, and also so very averse to seeing people. Like thanks for being you, now leave me alone unless you can rescue me or save me from my misery. 

My birthday is coming up and my parents are asking when we can celebrate! and I am like... ughh. Can't we just skip ahead? Its hard to live into the day, or the moment, or the dance, or the song, or the celebration... I am feeling very weighed down by the heaviness of it all. 

And I know that is a choice... I could easily ignore it, distract from it, chase tail, use drugs, run away, become reactive and righteous... be gluttonous *even more so than I am, or carve pieces of me away... but I am trying to sit with it... at least a bit and I am exhausted. 

Tomorrow I only have two clients. I think this week should be fairly easy...