my heart grieves, my heart knows
how distraction guides, how heartbreak knows
I am so many things right now.
I am so many feelings.
I am so many thoughts.
I am so many hopes.
And yet, I am also so much sadness, too.
In the compulsive behavior of leaving the potential of possibilities in the moment I am in and picking up my phone to open Instagram, my eyes immediately saw an image that brought tears right out of my sockets and my very body to its knees.
The animals in Gaza. Images of the very inhumane and brutal reality that is being experienced in this very breath, as well as in all the ones that preceded it. My God, I hope not any more, yet here we are, breathing, while the planet, people, animals, and agriculture—impacting each and every one of our existences—are in a state of violence, a living nightmare of unimaginable horrors that is available for us to see if we actually look and bear witness.
I look, and I know how much it kills me.
I have to. I feel it is my responsibility to see.
For here it is, happening even if it isn't happening directly to me—
it is happening—what is it that you see?
Am I alone in all this grief?
My heart breaks for every human as well as every creature.
The reaction I feel in my body from witnessing is minuscule compared to what is actually being experienced by the land and all living beings in war zones. I owe no one anything, yet I feel it in my very pulse. I know I owe our humanity and each other everything. I must feel; I must allow myself to see if the image is there for me to see—like it was, in the distracted dance of not placing my efforts into the reality that is here for me—to be home and to have the time to write, to read, to move my body, to hug my dog, to kiss my partner, to see the birds fly, to hear quiet. I am gifted and granted this space, and what do I do with it? I tune out into Instagram. And thankfully, the sheer sadness of seeing that which is happening, and has been happening, and we humans here in ease have an opportunity to support the cease and end the continuum of violence, was enough to bring me to my knees and shake me to my absolute core.
If somehow, someway, my privilege—my proximity to privilege, access, resources, and power—if the truth of my narrative in this now is one of opportunity and support, well, my God, I better use it.
I don’t want to become numb to any of the disturbances that shake me to my core—that bring us to our core and interconnectivity—that remind us we are all worthy of environments and experiences that nourish us and remind us of our capacity to respond—to look—to leverage love—to listen…
I’m listening… and I am looking in all the directions I have the blessing to see. I can understand why heads go in the sand and eyes to the sky or floors—it takes a lot of guts, a lot of grace, and a lot of ground to look around and allow oneself to see what is happening, to open the heart as well as the gaze and see beyond the way we think and push past the inhumanity.
I hope we can all do what is within our means and reach to cry and keep surrendering to the ceasefire for the Palestinian people and all environments and experiences of war that are happening as you read this very word and end this very sentence. We are so blessed. We are so lucky.
Please use it with me.
My mindless click of an app took me into the center of my heart, and my fingers allowed these words to come through. I thank you for listening and being a part of a conversation that I do hope to continue with you.
I would love to help foster and facilitate a space where we can grieve together for all that is and has been happening in Gaza, especially for the animals and wildlife. The ways our—my—tax money is funding the missiles and chemicals and how they are and will leave a lasting imprint on our very ecosystem, as well as the spirit and story of us all as a collective of people on this planet. I never want to bypass or condone violence, vengeance, or intentional behavior and biases that create harm. I do, however, want with every cell in my body for us to learn from it, which means we have to look, we have to sit with it, we have to choose if this is how we want to be, if this is the world we want to be nurturing or neglecting.
I want to be free, and I know that is only possible if all are free too.
I want us to be humane, which means we have to reckon with our own humanity and lack of it.
I want us to be humble, which means we have to show up and take up space in this moment.
I want us to use the very here and now we are in, all in hopes of the now and next being even more just, conscious, and better...
I want to make sure that I speak my truth in all its tenderness,
making space for both the remedy and the suffering of our existence here.
Again, thank you for being here and taking part in what went from distraction to purpose. It's okay that I feel these feelings; it’s okay that those inhumane images bring my body and spirit pain. It’s okay, and it's extraordinary all the same. It's here for us to remember and reclaim that we actually do have power and can create collective change—but will we?
I send love in all directions and dimensions and ask for immediate remedy, repair, and relief for all who are suffering, for all who are in sorrow, for all who feel separate from our shared truths and planet. May we please open our hearts and minds to sacred and immediate solutions and take skillful and authentic action in bringing to life all that is possible and all that is peaceful.
If you would like to find space with me virtually to talk about the massive grief weighing on my heart when I see and think about all that is happening in Gaza, please message me. I really do believe we need each other. Thank you again for listening.