Sheeran/Macklemore

Not that I have a world stage here, but I’m going to jump in on the whole Ed Sheeran/Macklemore controversy and say that I’m with those who are in a position to protect what’s precious. Ed Sheeran is protecting something precious. Mackelmore et. al. is as well. But I’m wondering how many folks have read Sheeran’s remarks on the controversy surrounding Macklemore’s removal from the tour. Ed did everything he could, short of abandoning people for whom he is responsible. Livelihoods rely on Ed Sheeran continuing the tour. Whether or not he could personally take the hit, he is a business entity with attached participants who can’t afford the loss. And he has a unique fan base to protect.

I was ranting about Gaza before it was widely accepted, cringing every time I posted, waiting for the accusations. This was over 10 years ago. But then I went through a stretch in my life when I couldn’t keep up with Gaza or many other things. The stress & demand as mother of 3 & much else (chronic illness) pulled me into a time of mostly exclusive focus on my world & on non-stressful news. I didn’t have the pressure of folks judging me for not standing up for the same issues I’d always stood for.

My own experience gives me pause when I encounter controversy around advocacy & especially condemnation of those who don’t speak up. It’s complicated, peeling back the layers of moral accountability. On the world stage, those who wield decisions directly impacting lives are the ones most responsible. Then we could establish secondary accountability and group folks who’re able to influence the decisionmakers as thus accountable. And then we could look at influencers of all types and say that they reside in tertiary accountability. But we would need to ask ourselves what levels of demand and need exert limitations on the tertiary accountability and would those limitations move them down a notch or two in accountability. And on we go.

Besides looking at accountability, we need to also regard the ways people advocate. We have the most basic form of advocacy: using our voice. And we have other forms of advocacy: using finances, networking with folks who organize protests of varying types, using our platform, should we have one, to speak up or influence support for the suffering.

Let’s focus on the one form of advocacy we seem to love the most here: speaking up. It’s easy to say that to not choose to speak up is to side with the bully or the killer or whomever is guilty of destroying what is precious. But it’s also so reductive it risks becoming that which targets what is precious. For instance, I’m healing early childhood sexual trauma at this point on my path, and as a result, my capacity for even looking at what’s going on in the world right now is massively diminished. Simple things, as well as stressful things can set me back profoundly. Then there are those who have wounds and are unable to deal with stressful dynamics because of those wounds and all they know is that they just don’t have it. They aren’t sure why they don’t have it to speak up; they just don’t have it. Our lives can become so besieged and beleaguered by demands and poverty and overwhelming situations that we aren’t able to develop the self-awareness to know why we turn and run when we see conflict that needs intervention. Or why we pause and cringe and can’t come up with the right words or find ourselves shaking all over when it’s time to face something challenging. Let’s look at that and ask ourselves which culture creates bombs. Let’s think of this and ask ourselves what societal constructs insist on productivity and profit over wholeness. And then let’s notice that same culture and society is what has injured people’s spirits such that they are not able to speak up without it costing more than they have to give. Every transaction we embrace requires something of us. You can argue that advocacy gives back, but I would argue that you are being reductive, once again. There are people who literally cannot afford to utter one word associated with controversy or war or destruction because they have been that profoundly injured and have yet to experience the counterweights of healing, recuperation and rehabilitation. Or they are that overwhelmed by the demands of their world.

We apply our standards of productivity, accountability and advocacy as if we’re all living in the same situations. As if going to work in a soul-killing job we can’t yet escape, as if living in an economy that works against our being human, as if many other factors don’t play out in each life, adding to the overall strain. On societal and cultural levels, we are stewing in the very vibes that have caused the conflict between Israel/Palestine. We have not wrested our world from the reign of power over and greed, from toxic patriarchy and misogyny (the stuff of rape & family of origin wounding which can disable and trap lives). The truth is, this reign is insidious, reaching into our daily lives and impacting how we look at our own preciousness, our value. If we truly care about the root cause of genocide, then we care to protect those who must choose to spare their spirit and wait to speak up or find other ways to support the marginalized. We either/or ourselves into destroying the very value we’re screaming about as advocates when we do not give room for people to choose their seasons of silence. Or we don’t give room for the fact that some folks are just so mentally and spiritually bankrupt, they don’t know why they can’t speak up.

Imagine a world where there is freedom to take the space to avoid controversy and political discourse and imagine such freedom is as valuable as human life. In fact, know that it is that valuable and know that it is as valuable as human life because humans literally require spaces free of controversy and political discourse so they may heal and be who they truly are in love and truth, beyond fear and shame. We must never assume that we are all able to raise our voices. And if we judge those who don’t raise their voices, are we not seeing the privilege we reside? We are privileged to see clearly since our lives have afforded us the room to know what matters. Many lives do not encounter the room to know what matters. We are privileged to speak up since the trajectory of our lives has not so crushed our spirit that we have no idea how precious we are, let alone how precious are those who live half a world away.

Look at your privilege when you rise to condemn the silent. Look at your privilege when you assume indifference and apathy are the root cause of silence. You must first be in tune with what is precious to then be able to become indifferent to what is precious. OR: You have never been in touch with your own preciousness and are thus disabled and thus indifferent to the value of all lives. You must first know the value of your own life to be able to recognize the value of action and movement in defense of life to then become apathetic to the causes that nurture life. And then, there are those who are active in advocacy because they’ve been guilted into action. Or they want the payoff. Or some mixture thereof.

I love Elie Wiesel. I agree with him. Indifference is deadly. We must be careful to avoid becoming indifferent to the complexity of being human and of creating a world free of toxic paradigms insisting our humanity march along a rote line of compliance to the truths we embrace. I bet Wiesel wouldn’t insist those with broken legs run to douse the burning buildings. Let’s agree that mental and psychological wounds, societal and economic burdens are as devastating, (often moreso in the long term) as broken legs.

Let’s also agree that we do have seasons in our lives when we are drawn to focus on specific things that pull us away from the turmoil in the world and into our unique purpose. We must not lose sight of why we advocate. We advocate because life is precious, every single aspect of what it is to live and be human is precious, including choosing our times of silence.

Looking at musicians or artists, we cannot afford to be any less in tune with what is precious. The humanity of each musician, each artist, every layer of their lives and the lives influenced by these folks is as precious as the causes we embrace. Ed Sheeran is one who wants to provide space for youth, and for those whose needs require minimal to no exposure to politically-charged causes, or even just stress. I massively appreciate both Sheeran and Macklemore because of who they are uniquely and hope they’ll be able to share a stage in the future. But we need to live in a world that gives room for humans being human. I believe we can embrace advocacy without losing sight of our needs and limitations. If Sheeran were cheering for genocide, I’d be booing him off the stage. I’d boo anyone cheering for genocide, if I had the strength to do so. I’ll say this again: Ed Sheeran fought to have Macklemore and others stay. He hates genocide.

Toxic masculinity bombs refugee encampments and creeps into dogma and arrests compassion. It seizes the stuff of being human even if we’re not strapping ourselves into a B-52. The effects of toxic masculinity (oppressive patriarchy) is everywhere and does not discriminate against advocates. Beware the bully within, insisting we all goddamn get our asses in gear, bootstrap pronto, and start screaming right this minute about the genocide. Seriously. Also, Free Palestine.

Reminding Centuries

“The Moon’s Say So”

The design shown here showcases Part II of III of my prose poetry published here titled, The Moon’s Say So.

“And to my end this may be the most these soles know: to grow old in the hum of an ancient song & wait for the next expression of love, to know that only those gifted with fortunate favor & a timing divine make it beyond the mountain and across the sea…”

In A Warming Sun…

I look out the window as it whispers quiet melodies of all the goings on going on without me. And yet I wonder whether goings on go on without me or if maybe we’re all connected. And if we’re all connected, are not the goings on of others also my own? If only I could know the quickened pulse of one dancing fit and free and not the rapid race of a heart working overtime for a body whose health declines more than sometimes, sometimes often without provocation.

In my own way, I do feel connected despite the isolation MECFS insists. I hear the city sounds outside my door, and sense a world full of doing. My heart tells me we are one, and in this moment I feel full. And while I feel full, I also feel the many things beyond my reach. Were I to grasp them, therein would a fullness peak, eventually waning. But I would remain.

photo by j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved

What I come to in my non-goings on of a life is that we all must land in the same place. We all face the inner world, an immovable yet flowing eternity. And that same world goes with us whether we are fit or frail and that same world remains when the noise and clamor fades.

I long for more doing and going and yet the fullness of the moment rewards me just the same. I am grateful to be here witnessing the play and tussle suggesting endless horizons. I look out the window knowing their promise.

They only guarantee experience.

Horizons don’t make us more free or more present. They simply pose a chance for more ways to grow and love in a world aching for peace.

But I look out the window and accept my rootedness for now. And I remember when I last chatted with my maple friends forever rooted in my front yard. They whispered a contented grace. They daily taste the world as whole and one, gathering life’s echoes as feast in a warming sun.

Where Evil Thrives…

“The surest defense against evil is extreme individualism, originality of thinking, whimsicality, even eccentricity. Evil is a sucker for solidarity. It always goes for big numbers, for confident granite, for ideological purity, for drilled armies and balance sheets.” Joseph Brodsky

I kick these words around in my mind. They invariably land on the evangelical past life from which I continue to heal, to deprogram and recover. I recall, but not accurately enough to locate it, a passage of scripture that spoke of an evil posing in the midst of those finding themselves to be so assuredly “saved”, most blessed by the divine. When I found it, decades ago, it made me shudder. I felt an already pervasive awareness of that same darkness in our culture. The conundrum of escaping its grasp kept my mind, at that time anyway, from facing the implications, the commentary on all I had been taught was true. But I did, one day, and another day by degrees, face the implications and so many things. I blame my daughter and her siblings. Happily, proudly. Their DNA coursed through my veins for years a revolution. When she was born, and then her brother, and then her sibling, so was I, each time by degrees beautifully irreversible, refusing programs, granite-like confidence and ideological righteousness.

There is nothing like the inherent innocence of precious vulnerable human lives to birth a person, to shake the notions of what evil is and is not. It is not a child.

And so, I type these words and imagine my father sneering at them. I suppose such hauntings of his barely repressed fear and hatred will inform me of how close I am to a more certain faith, one free of “the only way”ism and fear. But as children, we were treated as if the devil himself had attached to our beings and needed to be trampled any time we exhibited something soul, something will, something individual. And I now know the evil was not in the nature they sought to obliterate, but in their fear, their hatred.

And for whatever reason, today of all days I am able to write, to venture a post here and to say hello to what is no doubt a symphony of absence and crickets. But life’s brutalities and beauties call and my answer echoes back a hope, a faith, a joy washed by self-love and compassion and a keen awareness of where, yes, of all things, evil thrives. And it is not where the allegedly Christian numbers declare it or where the not so supreme court decrees. It is as Brodsky says. Evil thrives where drilled armies rule and where those gunshots echo down corridors and hallways meant to school the vulnerable. It thrives in assurances of total rightness cloaked in dependence on a savior whose presence is a projection and not a truth.

So, we can say I emerged from the place where evil thrives because I crawled out of an evangelical, cultic shit show. Every step away, every venture beyond proves to be a work of ousting that which might welcome a new version or rendition of the same old show. And so, my posts have stalled as my focus shifted on growth in the moment, life pummels, birthings and reversals all a womb, yet another womb. And here I am, grateful for salvation from the damnation posing rightness and acutely aware the work is never ever done. For the place where evil thrives is in the seeming assurance of its absence by virtue of virtue itself.

Here’s to the whimsy and eccentricity that restores the soul, that leads beside the still waters and that sets our feet to dancing.

The Worst Thing…

“The worst thing we ever did
was put God in the sky
out of reach
pulling the divinity
from the leaf,
sifting out the holy from our bones,
insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement
through everything we’ve made
a hard commitment to see as ordinary,
stripping the sacred from everywhere
to put in a cloud man elsewhere,
prying closeness from your heart.
The worst thing we ever did
was take the dance and the song
out of prayer
made it sit up straight
and cross its legs
removed it of rejoicing
wiped clean its hip sway,
its questions,
its ecstatic yowl,
its tears.
The worst thing we ever did is pretend
God isn’t the easiest thing
in this Universe
available to every soul
in every breath”
Chelan Harkin
From her poetry book ‘Susceptible to Light’

photo by S. Isaac Kellogg, 2020, all rights reserved

Blessed are…

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called…” the masculine children of divinity, depending on which version of the Bible you may read. And yet many are those of varying gender identifications who make peace by the way they live their lives. Some stay real with themselves about their growth processes, seeking out accountability and listening to those who can constructively school them on their need for change, their toxic exceptionalism and passive/aggressive denial of systemic oppression. Some simply live it out, opening their hearts and minds to the viewpoints and lives of those who will expand their minds to move beyond the status quo, the status quo that lulls us all to sleep when our wakefulness is most needed. We are a many-varied and colorful tribe of humans hoping towards fulfillment on different levels as we struggle to recover from the oppressive backlash of centuries of authoritarianism and the resulting mindset. Some of us seek our recovery by means conducive to capturing truth, fostering freedom and encouraging growth and prosperity for everyone as we confront our demons, the darkness we all wrestle when egos clash and righteous rage collides with denial and judgement. And we wonder, “is it righteous, really?”. Apparently, according to the wise ones, we are all acting out in the wake of trauma. Some of us embody the traumatizers, and some of us war against them, but we all began in the oppressive authoritarianism that ultimately seeks to destroy soul. No one with even just a modicum of awareness will deny that abusers have been abused and neither will they deny that some who’ve been abused manage to avoid the abuser’s program through hard, painfully aware work.

The problem I have with identifying us all as victims of trauma is that such an identification could be seen as a uniting truth when there are those of the grand us who are not wanting actual unity or truth. (Truth like, love is what we do and not simply what we feel. And truth like, we’re all valuable, precious human beings. Not “truth” like, there is one God and one way and those who don’t believe will burn. Not “truth” like, we say so and so it is so.) So, sure, we’re all victims of trauma, participants in reactions against the power-over model of authority. But we’re not all growing and we’re not all seeking accountability, and on the other side of it all, we’re not all perpetuating violent and destructive acts that divide us. These distinctions deserve regard because they distinguish between those who seek to empower others and those who seek power over others, even if only vicariously.

While it’s likely true that those who are openly seeking dominion over others are victims of trauma, my experience in moving from a place of forgiveness and understanding with this slice of the population has only netted me betrayal, slander, loss, isolation and more trauma. I literally unknowingly signed up, in the name of forgiveness, unity and hope, for another round of soul-bruising loss. I thought my faith in love would prevail. It did not. I’ve learned that you can’t afford to smile and approach abused abusers with the assumption they want to actually be anything other than what they are. You can’t project your own hope for a truly noble, truly valuable, truly life-affirming legacy onto those who are “in the same boat” with you. It’s just not that simple. It’s like inviting Leviathan to tea and hoping the beast won’t be a beast. Sure, we all came from the same sea but some of us are walking on two legs and hoping to not regress to more beastly behavior while others of us are glorifying the beast by way of denial-based, narrative-skewing belief systems. The perversion of truth and rationality is unprecedented. Shift blame, redirect focus and make the victim pay. But hey, we’re all in this together? As much as we may technically be in this together, trauma bonds as they are, we are at least as much not in this together in unity, and we are not going to experience true unity with each other when anyone in the boat is eagerly perpetuating the power-over authoritarian model of “community”. The best we can do is sit on the other side of the boat and pray that our work to end generational carnage actually takes while hoping those on the other side finally wake up and join us in the work for emancipation from oppression.

And writers and historians like Rebecca Solnit help me solidify and give voice to what I see and feel during this epic time of both loss and hopeful growth here in the US. Solnit’s following expression fills up the gaps made real by a confusion of intentions on a boat adrift in the wild sea of meaning.

“The middle ground is not halfway between Nazis and antiracists. The reasonable position is not a compromise between rapists and feminists, slaveowners and abolitionists, Natives and General Crook. The truth is not midway between the liar and the truthteller. That has to be a factor in all those calls for reaching out and unity. The murderer and his intended victim don’t have to agree on what’s right. The people who were harmed don’t have to reach out to those who did the harming. The people who told the truth don’t need to make liars feel better about themselves or what they said. Those who were targeted by this war don’t have to do all the peacemaking. If reaching out and finding unity is good, the haters and liars can go find some olive branches and apologies and do the work to leave their will to destroy the rest of us behind. Then it begins. The party of hate never had a mandate; they lost the popular vote last time and this time; they may think of themselves as the real American and the gatekeepers but we don’t have to, and we don’t have to enter their gates or play by their rules. We don’t have to hate them either, but we don’t have to protect them from the consequences of their choices or sell out our principles for their comfort. When you stand on the ground of truth and justice, let others find their way to you. If you stand firm, many will in the end. Not everyone will; that does not change what truth and justice are.” Rebecca Solnit