” … And the way one can find oneself strewn
so inattentively across life, across time.
Those who touch us, those whom we touch,
we hold them or we let them go
as though it were such a small matter.”
C.K. Williams
Monday, September 21, 2009
I will keep putting words to images until this grief lends itself to silence.
” … And the way one can find oneself strewn
so inattentively across life, across time.
Those who touch us, those whom we touch,
we hold them or we let them go
as though it were such a small matter.”
C.K. Williams
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Portland Bound
An early departure,
you left this morning at 6 a.m.
Portland-bound
with a packed car,
tears from my eyes still moist on your neck.
We didn't even make love last night,
just let our bodies touch
skin to skin, a final time.
There are some zones too sacred
to enter in the face of upcoming loss.
It's now 11:00 a.m.
and though those tears dried up hours ago
the candle in my room is still lit.
If anything, you taught me how to grieve,
how true love never sits it out, not even
when it feels like hell to p(l)ay.
So I keep the wick aflame in order
to symbolize that which lingers and burns,
materializing the lessons
you so generously provided before driving away.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
World Take Note
"You cannot make love to concrete
if you care about being
non-essential wrong or worn thin
if you fear ever becoming
diamonds or lard
you cannot make love to concrete
if you cannot pretend
concrete needs your loving"
from "Making Love to Concrete" by Audre Lorde
if you care about being
non-essential wrong or worn thin
if you fear ever becoming
diamonds or lard
you cannot make love to concrete
if you cannot pretend
concrete needs your loving"
from "Making Love to Concrete" by Audre Lorde
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Dear Grandma:
Peace be with you. Now and everlasting.
I do not believe in the afterlife so I write this letter for the remnants of your soul still spinning and searching for freedom within the bodies of your descendants, most specifically the parts of you pumping through the veins of your daughter (my mother) and her daughter (yours truly). I write this letter because I want you to know some things. I want to affirm some things for her and for me, for you beloved womyn.
First off: we are doing the work. Please know this. We are doing the work of liberation through sitting and sifting and shifting. We have taken the struggles of gender formation, consumption, religious freedom and sexual development and made them our own. You gave us this task and in many ways we are doing this work because you could not for lack of resources, support, for the lack of possibilities womyn had during your time to carve out lives of justice and equality for themselves. I grieve the lack of possibilities you had, grieve this in bodied life. I see the eclipse of possibility playing itself in how hard we both struggle today, my mother and I, to find place and purpose in the systems of domination and death you encountered full throttle and we continue to confront (although the struggles look and feel different today). I pray for compassion in the face of our struggle. My mom is a warrior. I am a warrior. Thank you for giving life to that.
Secondly: when we get tired of the work, when it feels too exhausting, too overwhelming and too sad there is always the chance that we'll stop and give up. But we haven't. Over the years we have taken it upon ourselves to push on, to press against one another in loving ways so that your healing might unfold in the infinite web of relations we've consciously and unconsciously weaved. This means our romance lives, our food intake, our religious devotion and our bodily becoming host the work of redemption. There was so much body deprivation. When we exercise instead of remain stagnant, we are setting you free. There was so much silencing. When we refuse to stay quiet and exercise power in boardrooms, town hall meetings, our partnerships and with one another, we are unlocking your legacy. There was so much religious control. When we find rituals that fit our truth instead of blindly submitting to authorities that lie about divinity, we honor your presence among us. There was so much secrecy and discrediting of mental health. When we open in therapy and pour our guts into shared vulnerable space, often relinquishing comfort and security for the promise of wholeness, we place power together which includes you over the fear-based individualism that kept you suffocated and locked up. There was so much biblical interpretation that produced hatred of skin. When we dare to love our bodies, instead of starving them or outsourcing their pleasure to idols, when we take joy in the flesh instead of paying allegiance to texts that would shame it, we are loving you. There was so much rigidity, so much scarcity and lack. When we refuse to be sex objects or materialistic robots to the ominous forces of capitalism, we remember you and honor you. This is not easy work. We get tired and we fuck up. Please see the exhaustion and weariness, not as signs of burden, but as proof of our commitment to you. This work takes extraordinary discipline; it is our gift to you.
Third: This work is not just for us. This work is for the world: for all the people we currently see, hear, work with and love. This work is for those we've never encountered but might be impacted by the ripple effect that happens when anyone, anywhere takes it upon themselves to heal and to show up in this world alive, not dead, not dying but alive and living. And this work is for G-d, the creating, redeeming and sustaining power that holds all of us in everlasting arms, a G-d who held you and holds us no matter the mountains in need of move. This G-d will take your pain, our work and a future full of potential for Her own. She will resurrect the eclipsed possibilities of your life and make a way in our lives, in the lives of those to come and we will be saved. Most importantly, this saving work will continue. There was no official beginning to the struggle; I'm sure your suffering came from a bloodline beyond your recollection. There will be no end to this saving work because grace is real and we are willing. You can rest, now, in peace because we know that grace is real and we are willing to live.
Peace be with you. Now and everlasting.
I do not believe in the afterlife so I write this letter for the remnants of your soul still spinning and searching for freedom within the bodies of your descendants, most specifically the parts of you pumping through the veins of your daughter (my mother) and her daughter (yours truly). I write this letter because I want you to know some things. I want to affirm some things for her and for me, for you beloved womyn.
First off: we are doing the work. Please know this. We are doing the work of liberation through sitting and sifting and shifting. We have taken the struggles of gender formation, consumption, religious freedom and sexual development and made them our own. You gave us this task and in many ways we are doing this work because you could not for lack of resources, support, for the lack of possibilities womyn had during your time to carve out lives of justice and equality for themselves. I grieve the lack of possibilities you had, grieve this in bodied life. I see the eclipse of possibility playing itself in how hard we both struggle today, my mother and I, to find place and purpose in the systems of domination and death you encountered full throttle and we continue to confront (although the struggles look and feel different today). I pray for compassion in the face of our struggle. My mom is a warrior. I am a warrior. Thank you for giving life to that.
Secondly: when we get tired of the work, when it feels too exhausting, too overwhelming and too sad there is always the chance that we'll stop and give up. But we haven't. Over the years we have taken it upon ourselves to push on, to press against one another in loving ways so that your healing might unfold in the infinite web of relations we've consciously and unconsciously weaved. This means our romance lives, our food intake, our religious devotion and our bodily becoming host the work of redemption. There was so much body deprivation. When we exercise instead of remain stagnant, we are setting you free. There was so much silencing. When we refuse to stay quiet and exercise power in boardrooms, town hall meetings, our partnerships and with one another, we are unlocking your legacy. There was so much religious control. When we find rituals that fit our truth instead of blindly submitting to authorities that lie about divinity, we honor your presence among us. There was so much secrecy and discrediting of mental health. When we open in therapy and pour our guts into shared vulnerable space, often relinquishing comfort and security for the promise of wholeness, we place power together which includes you over the fear-based individualism that kept you suffocated and locked up. There was so much biblical interpretation that produced hatred of skin. When we dare to love our bodies, instead of starving them or outsourcing their pleasure to idols, when we take joy in the flesh instead of paying allegiance to texts that would shame it, we are loving you. There was so much rigidity, so much scarcity and lack. When we refuse to be sex objects or materialistic robots to the ominous forces of capitalism, we remember you and honor you. This is not easy work. We get tired and we fuck up. Please see the exhaustion and weariness, not as signs of burden, but as proof of our commitment to you. This work takes extraordinary discipline; it is our gift to you.
Third: This work is not just for us. This work is for the world: for all the people we currently see, hear, work with and love. This work is for those we've never encountered but might be impacted by the ripple effect that happens when anyone, anywhere takes it upon themselves to heal and to show up in this world alive, not dead, not dying but alive and living. And this work is for G-d, the creating, redeeming and sustaining power that holds all of us in everlasting arms, a G-d who held you and holds us no matter the mountains in need of move. This G-d will take your pain, our work and a future full of potential for Her own. She will resurrect the eclipsed possibilities of your life and make a way in our lives, in the lives of those to come and we will be saved. Most importantly, this saving work will continue. There was no official beginning to the struggle; I'm sure your suffering came from a bloodline beyond your recollection. There will be no end to this saving work because grace is real and we are willing. You can rest, now, in peace because we know that grace is real and we are willing to live.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.
The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.
What I want shouldn't be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.
If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.
Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.
-from Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
and we will all keep still.
This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.
The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.
What I want shouldn't be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.
If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.
Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.
-from Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Public Acts of Lament and the Covering Up of Suicides
Press
"With a third Palo Alto student apparently committing suicide on the Caltrain tracks in just four months, railroad officials, educators and mental health professionals described the deaths Monday as an extremely rare "cluster." Concerned that other troubled teens would continue to be drawn to the site, transit officials said they were enforcing their policy on removing memorials, worried that the public grieving could inadvertently glorify the deaths and inspire more attempts. In contrast to the flowers and notes that crowded East Meadow Drive after the previous deaths, the only visible sign Monday of the latest tragedy was a police officer on patrol."
Poem
Cluster
fuck.
Sick inside.
Outside: Stanford, white successful people and houses that sell for (cheap at) 1.5 million dollars. No one says hello in my neighborhood, but they eat organic food and drive hybrid cars--hallelujah.
Translation of the Transit Official Memo
"Please don't grieve, beings who value life, because other teens struggling with life might see you valuing life lost and think that's the best way to feel valued. They might see your vigils, your sorrow and flowers, signs of living love and mistake them for a reason to step in front of a train. Instead we think they should see a single police officer patrolling the streets which will inevitably make them feel "protected." Cover up your deaths. Cover up the costs of your emotional repression and deadening individualism that causes the death of adolescents."
Pastoral response
Last time I checked stifling grief is one of the most effective ways to prolong misery and perpetuate violence. Since when do public officials get to dictate our rituals for the dead? Get out their and weep. For those we have lost. For what remains scooping up in the dust. Put flowers on the ground. Hold signs and candles. And if they arrest you, scream out for the sake of all our souls.
"With a third Palo Alto student apparently committing suicide on the Caltrain tracks in just four months, railroad officials, educators and mental health professionals described the deaths Monday as an extremely rare "cluster." Concerned that other troubled teens would continue to be drawn to the site, transit officials said they were enforcing their policy on removing memorials, worried that the public grieving could inadvertently glorify the deaths and inspire more attempts. In contrast to the flowers and notes that crowded East Meadow Drive after the previous deaths, the only visible sign Monday of the latest tragedy was a police officer on patrol."
Poem
Cluster
fuck.
Sick inside.
Outside: Stanford, white successful people and houses that sell for (cheap at) 1.5 million dollars. No one says hello in my neighborhood, but they eat organic food and drive hybrid cars--hallelujah.
Translation of the Transit Official Memo
"Please don't grieve, beings who value life, because other teens struggling with life might see you valuing life lost and think that's the best way to feel valued. They might see your vigils, your sorrow and flowers, signs of living love and mistake them for a reason to step in front of a train. Instead we think they should see a single police officer patrolling the streets which will inevitably make them feel "protected." Cover up your deaths. Cover up the costs of your emotional repression and deadening individualism that causes the death of adolescents."
Pastoral response
Last time I checked stifling grief is one of the most effective ways to prolong misery and perpetuate violence. Since when do public officials get to dictate our rituals for the dead? Get out their and weep. For those we have lost. For what remains scooping up in the dust. Put flowers on the ground. Hold signs and candles. And if they arrest you, scream out for the sake of all our souls.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Tears From (the mystic portion of) Heaven
What kind of body brings a throb to your pubic bone, aimless lover?
What form of God do you worship, wandering pilgrim?
Where do your people come from, servant of the Earth?
We'd like
names
dates
nation states
genders
and other fictitious handle bars
in order
to grasp you
Somewhere while sipping sweet wine
smoking fat cigars
and swimming naked in structureless desire
Cusa, Rumi & Derrida
cry over our lack of comprehension and imagination
What form of God do you worship, wandering pilgrim?
Where do your people come from, servant of the Earth?
We'd like
names
dates
nation states
genders
and other fictitious handle bars
in order
to grasp you
Somewhere while sipping sweet wine
smoking fat cigars
and swimming naked in structureless desire
Cusa, Rumi & Derrida
cry over our lack of comprehension and imagination
Confession Litany
(On "safety protocol" that closed the sweat lodges at the Native American Cultural Center where I work, the Sotomayor hearings, PANA's closure, health care town halls, and more of my friends being hurt by their "Christian" family members...)
I am sorry that narrow interpretations of Jesus' life and ministry lead my people to sacrifice sacrifice, that instead of seeing Jesus' work as an example to be followed of self-emptying on behalf of the community, some Christians consider Jesus' death a once-and-for-all event that abnegates our neighborly responsibilities. For the ways poor communities, communities of color, the elderly and youth are being sacrificed on the altars of financial melt-down: forgive us. For the ways already-marginalized individuals are being 'put on the spot' or 'pitted against each other' while structures of privilege and domination wash their hands of culpability: forgive us. For those of us who can afford, literally, to stop having conversations about justice and therefore stop listening: forgive us. For not participating in the struggles for social and economic equality because we consider ourselves 'separate' from the suffering of "others": forgive us. For the ways some Christians in the U.S. are currently blocking the advancement of health and health care by promoting fear-mongering and scape-goating: forgive us.
I am sorry that the idolatry of power-over masculinity and historic, contemporary, individual and institutional closeting of same-sex eroticism has produced a religion full of hyper-vigilant homophobia and virulent womyn-hating, that the externalized rhetoric of hate (masking internal undealt with realities of desire) has caused divisions between society, families, individuals and churches.. For the ways bodies are marginalized, condemned, denied and objectified: forgive us. For the way limiting roles get constructed and how those roles stifle personal and relational eros: forgive us. For the way oppressive social structures like slave-model marriage and the silencing of children get employed in order to downplay the vulnerabilities of authentic relationship: forgive us. For the ways true love, relational creativity and sexual freedom get blocked and shamed in the name of "God," for the ways our bible gets used as a weapon, our churches used for exclusion, our leaders used for upkeep of the status quo: forgive us.
May the hurt we've caused be the face of G-d beckoning us out of our dead places. Amen.
I am sorry that narrow interpretations of Jesus' life and ministry lead my people to sacrifice sacrifice, that instead of seeing Jesus' work as an example to be followed of self-emptying on behalf of the community, some Christians consider Jesus' death a once-and-for-all event that abnegates our neighborly responsibilities. For the ways poor communities, communities of color, the elderly and youth are being sacrificed on the altars of financial melt-down: forgive us. For the ways already-marginalized individuals are being 'put on the spot' or 'pitted against each other' while structures of privilege and domination wash their hands of culpability: forgive us. For those of us who can afford, literally, to stop having conversations about justice and therefore stop listening: forgive us. For not participating in the struggles for social and economic equality because we consider ourselves 'separate' from the suffering of "others": forgive us. For the ways some Christians in the U.S. are currently blocking the advancement of health and health care by promoting fear-mongering and scape-goating: forgive us.
I am sorry that the idolatry of power-over masculinity and historic, contemporary, individual and institutional closeting of same-sex eroticism has produced a religion full of hyper-vigilant homophobia and virulent womyn-hating, that the externalized rhetoric of hate (masking internal undealt with realities of desire) has caused divisions between society, families, individuals and churches.. For the ways bodies are marginalized, condemned, denied and objectified: forgive us. For the way limiting roles get constructed and how those roles stifle personal and relational eros: forgive us. For the way oppressive social structures like slave-model marriage and the silencing of children get employed in order to downplay the vulnerabilities of authentic relationship: forgive us. For the ways true love, relational creativity and sexual freedom get blocked and shamed in the name of "God," for the ways our bible gets used as a weapon, our churches used for exclusion, our leaders used for upkeep of the status quo: forgive us.
May the hurt we've caused be the face of G-d beckoning us out of our dead places. Amen.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Treasured Earthen Vessels
I'm celebrating my graduation from CPE by putting this artwork by Meinrad Craighead into the world through my blog. This image somehow captures how I'm feeling about being "done." Glory!
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