I haven't felt inspired to blog the last two weeks, since returning to the order of things in the US. It is not to say there hasn't been growth and inner work going on. It has simply seemed too self-involved to be of much interest. In this moment, at least there is an intersection with the world, which asks me to write. There is at least a question.
As far as the self goes, my teeth remain broken; I have no insurance for four months. I am down to zero dollars in my wallet, and $1.24 in the bank. I can't even visit friends because the gas is down to 1/16 of a tank--enough to get me to the gas station Thursday, when the paycheck lands. I have worse allergies than I've ever had, so going outside is no real option. My arms were in pain this week from the repetitive motion of the mid- and late shifts I agreed to work; I am not playing music. I had a falling out with one of my few remaining friends in town. I have not found a long-term living situation, and find great resistance to the thought of settling back in Santa Fe.
Worst of all, I feel on such a different wavelength than the American spectrum (running between confidence and overwhelm?), there has been no one to just TALK to. Even friends don't get what it is to converse--that there is something more than the You and the I. And that for a true We to arise, there needs to be a discussion, an honest meeting.
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Tonight I chatted with a friend and mentor from Nicaragua. My Spanish has seriously deteriorated in two weeks. There is a great chasm in even beginning to explain the vast conundrums of taking up activism in the US political landscape; so far I've been completely unsuccessful in communicating this. My focus has been to understand and receive first. And this has been fruitful.
Even if there is imperfect communication, something comes through our conversations. What comes through are the distances between things.
I have dedicated my entire life to the improvement of the human condition, yet what so we see? I have fully committed all my life energies to righteous living two or three times, only to be set back to an incapacity so complete that the choice was to either continue and die, or pull back and revise. I have tried to inspire others with my strength and clarity, only to lose friends. I extended myself far to travel to Nicaragua this year, but what did I truly gain? And now with all the personal challenges listed above, what am I supposed to do to maintain some presence in the fight?
I discover the essential importance of Chi, but how far am I realistically from manifesting any capacity even as a Tai Chi student, no less an effective energetic healer? I grasp the immense mathematics of Rodin's free energy work, as well as its political import, but can I really imagine building something with that knowledge? I can see the great hope in the military sovereignty push to reclaim our Republic, but what can I contribute? I imagine love but can't find it; I open myself up, I make myself strong... still I manifest nothing. I grock the groove of global polyrhythms, pour money into a studio, and barely get a useable CD, the kind of which musicians around the world make for a dime a dozen.
All this useless effort, never coming close to covering any distance, is my teacher: it is time for better leverage, a more favorable input-output ratio, and more beautiful visualizations.
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What also comes through the conversations with this mentor is knowing who I care about and who cares about me. I am not judged, shamed, ignored, dismissed, unnoticed, misunderstood, or even ridiculed--as I am by most Americans I know. I am questioned, and reflections ensue. Being accurately seen as a caring, thoughtful, courageous human being--and collaborator--I am pulled out of my lonely American unreality. No small talk, no aggressive pretense covering over tabus against shared emotions or honest questions, no salesmanship masquerading as solidarity... it is no wonder my esteem immediately grows, along with my remembrance of an identity.
We talk of blood and scars, courage and questions, thoughts and concerns, valor and heart. Simply in conversing this way, we struggle together to hone in, across the distance, on a parallax of what is real. And this itself puts another drop of the precious solidarity into the world.
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~another drop of the precious solidarity~
ReplyDeleteIt seems so vital as the moments approach a world wide May Day strike.
If you have been back in the States for at least two weeks, I imagine that there are a myriad of integrations and realizations pouring into your life. When one of my friends returned from Hondouras where he worked as a laborer, (imagine speaking Spanish that well to be male street labor commodity), he could never again integrate into the U.S.
Give yourself time and lots of tender care.