We chased the sun the other day all the way down to the lake with the self-sufficient geese. Leaving work early made way for living – which in my case, involves nature-made remedies that gently dissolve the toxicity of the week. The car ride, for no particular reason, had me questioning if he too, like all other Catholics, believed that the world needed to start over and was well on its way in doing so. A natural-born advocate and voice that he is, supporter of the Revolution, expressed ‘hope’ in his sentiments.
I went on to say that “the money doesn’t work anymore” – a thought expressed a week ago at my first Dao Ceremony. To me, this means that in order to survive, one must first kill themselves. In order to live, one must reach levels deep enough for those open to density.
When did it cost so much to live a life of simplicity? When did basic necessities become luxuries for the poor?
As I inch closer to becoming a Mother, sadness inducing realizations have reached a new high. Despite the gawking, drooling and visually obsessive thoughts men have towards the female form, the system has and continues to reduce our rights and disregard us completely. The “Women Supporting Women” movement has also been in question during a time when I’ve looked for comfort with those who can actually create life. It is fact that the Corona women simply do not get to glide along blissfully as other women shamelessly admit. A virtually spotless experience is not a confession a struggling soon-to-be mother wants to hear. I have found myself stuck in between gratitude for a body that has proven willing and able, and utterly frustrated for a body that, for some reason, enjoys maxing out on physical pain. A large part of this experience has been filled with anger towards not only other women for their lack of sympathy, but the societal system that was created by a gender without a uterus. The, what feels like, eternal stress from having to perform business as usual, almost reaches the point of abuse.
The truth is, the world aches for empathy. It cries to the point of flooding – burns to the point of extinction – blows until there’s nothing left to take. We know that our insides affect our outsides, yet, watch our own decay as a species, document it, and continue taking the poison because we feel we have no choice.
Empathy and vulnerability are two endangered species only an emotional revolution can replenish. Creating life has me looking for more ways to connect with the disconnected; steady streams of water, sherbet skies, the sway, grip and fall of each leaf, and all the stars. Even the ones light pollution hides from us. Present day has my baby and me as one, but in a short period, we will be two separate stars looking to one another for light. In a strange way, I feel incredibly ill-prepared while also feeling very much ready. While I figure it out, I will continue chasing the sun and admiring the stars – especially on the days where they try to take them from us.
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