Every day for weeks I find myself blinking back tears. Interesting. I'm not a crier. I mean, seriously I can barely remember the last time I cried - and I know it was a big, traumatic, life altering moment.
These tears seep in unexpected
- when I'm walking the dog after a torrential storm, or when I'm scrolling through my @handmadebythehandreader Instagram feed - which is filled primarily with knitters, crocheters, stitchers and other artsy types.
No matter that I haven't willingly watched the news in more than a decade I still feel it I still hear it.
I remind myself that "news" is no longer unbiased - no matter where you stand, it's a game of making profit, selling advertising. The goal is that you keep your eyes on their news source, versus another source of entertainment, all in pursuit of making money.
Capitalism is really trying my soul.
When we stopped caring about other people as much as we care about money things went sideways, didn't they?
And haven't we been set up for just this moment for - well - eternity?
The tears.
I feel the heartbreak and pain. I feel the fear of impending doom as the fascists spin out of control.
I feel the moments of hope when those with heart left fight back against unchecked bullies.
I do my best to hunker down
and ask, of my heart, of my spirit, what is it I can do with my life to make the world I live in now better?
It's not making blankets.
Or cross-stitch.
Or socks (but dang I love socks).
Or is it?
I'm a maker, and a feeler, and a person who is so drawn to helping other heal that I can barely stand some days, wondering where to turn first.
The rule, of course, is to help yourself so you can help others.
The tears return.
The voice inside says to still myself.
To hear the voices of my ancestors and my guides. Those that have gone before and set me here, on this path, right in this very moment.
Being present is very hard. It's a skill that was tough when there were no cell phones and 24/7/365 streaming devices. I didn't like to sit still in class, and I hated to feel bored if my friends were out of town and the day seemed to last forever.
Being still feels revolutionary.
There must be something I can (should?) do! I must be able to find an answer outside of myself - if I scroll faster, ask better questions of the cards, the internet, the people around me...right?
There is an answer - please, tell me there is an answer.
Stillness.
The answer is there.
The voice that seems to never shut up - can. In that split second It is there. Wholeness. Peace.
Is it a dream?
Promising myself today to find more pockets of stillness seems pointless, void of action and reeks of capitulation. It's all I have.
That, and the tears.