I understand that part of this anger is about my own deep wounds. My own story of harm by a mad man–and the perceived betrayal of the otherwise sane people who knew better than to believe a madman and ultimately align with a mad man.
This is also what I know about being wounded: there is no greater pain that not being seen. We don’t expect a mad man to see or understand our pain. He’s not capable of it. But the ones who we know are capable of empathy and love? We except better.
“We are being called, like our mothers and fathers, to be the moral defibrillators of our time,” [Barber] said, as the crowd rose with him for the umpteenth time. “We will shock this nation and fight for justice for all. . . .We will not give up on the heart of our democracy, not now,Continue reading “The heart of democracy”
“On Friday we wept, on Saturday we marched, on Sunday we rested. Today we get to work. What will you do today?” – Valerie Kaur I live in the very, very Southwest corner of Florida. Not near Miami, or Orlando, or Tampa, where you might find some blue dots in our red state. No. IContinue reading “Give light and People will Find the Way.”
When a male painted bunting feels threatened it sings out a loud, clear, beautiful song from its perch, all the while dazzling in a bold palette of red, blue, green and yellow. You can do this too. When facing darkness and fear, dare to show your bold colors and sing your beautiful song. Sing it into the void. PierceContinue reading “Be like the Painted Bunting”