Tag: power-in-unity

Holding A Single Candle

Alone, yet connected to so many

Photo by Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash

I walked to the end of my tiny street with my candle, tears beginning to flow.

I had been following the horror of another person killed by Border Patrol, Alex Pretti, only weeks after the killing of Renee Good by ICE. 

I cannot absorb the pain at times. I cannot imagine what their families are going through. I feel such deep sorrow and outrage and, at times, bewilderment. How did we get here?

I watched the news in horror all day covering the death of Alex, as I had watched about Renee. A friend sent me a message that there was going to be a time that evening, 7 pm local time wherever you were, when people were invited to be outside, on corners, on their street, holding lighted candles in a ritual of remembrance.

So, I got my candle and walked down the hill of our tiny street. I did not see anyone else around, and thought that maybe others had organized themselves to be together in a more main location. Still, there I was with my candle and matches. 

I took a deep breath and lit the candle, placing it on top of our row of mailboxes as I stood there. Cars drove by, some looked. It was a quiet evening. I thought about Alex, an ICU nurse. I’m retired now, but in my career as a social worker, I have worked with a lot of nurses and have such respect for all that they do and the care that they provide. 

Here was an ICU nurse, shot down after trying to help someone else who had been shoved down. I watched the different versions of the videos that people had taken and saw what happened. Thank God for videos. I am enraged at the government trying to spin the story as they are, when we can see with our own eyes what happened. Of course there should be a full investigation by all, including the local authorities. 

Standing there with my solitary candle, I could feel the connection to others who were doing the same, even if I could not see them right then. I felt my heart ache for this young man and his heart to protest and to help others. I could feel the still fresh pain from the killing of Renee Good. I could feel a part of all of us that are outraged and sometimes don’t even know where to put our anger. There was a video of a 70-year-old gentleman who was in agony and enraged at what he had seen, at what happened. I know that many of us understood and felt that inconsolable pain.

I see many of my peers, elders, at protests. We have seen much in our lives, have been involved in other protests perhaps, and are feeling the trauma that we are now in. We are out there, using our voices, holding up our signs, holding our candles. 

After a little while, my neighbor, who had wondered who was hanging out by the mailboxes, came down to stand by me. We talked about what had happened, about our pain and outrage, about the loss, the death, the crumbling of our democracy. We hugged each other and honored the memory of Alex, as well as Renee. 

I walked back up to my home after a bit. I felt as if it had been important to my soul for me to to be out there with my solitary candle, to take action, to bear witness to the pain, to express it so that others could see and also remember and feel it. 

As an elder, sometimes it is easy for me to discount that my actions can make any difference. What can I do, as a 72 year old woman? What difference will it make? Who cares if I light my tiny candle alone?

It made a difference to my soul. It made a difference to my heart. And it motivated me to see what else I can be involved in, in addition to attending protests, writing post cards, contributing financially where I can. 

I went to bed, sobered, deep in thought and feeling. Around midnight I woke up and felt compelled to open my back door and step outside. At that moment a strong breeze swept through me, which is unusual around my area, as the wind usually dies down at dusk. It stopped as soon as it came, but it felt as if it went right through me. I felt the spirit of all that is going on, felt the pain of those we have lost already in this crisis, of all those that we don’t hear about who have been “disappeared” (what an interesting term that has become common these days), of all the suffering being inflicted, the separations, the young children, the people just trying to make a life for their families, all of us Americans who they are trying to turn against each other. 

I have written before about walking in the redwoods and sometimes hearing the rustling of the leaves and feeling as if I am hearing the whispering of the Voice of God. Maybe God was speaking again, through the wind, through the outrage of so many, through the compassion and love that we can still see and feel in the crowds that hold each other and sing and chant together, in the light of a tiny candle multiplied even if we do not see it at the moment. We are many, and we have more power than we know. We are all Americans and we cannot let them divide us against each other. We all want the best for our families and for our beloved country, a country that has stood for so much, imperfectly for sure, but at least had been trying to move in the direction of creating a better world for all. 

Let’s use our voices, make our signs, call who we can, come together so that we can see how many of us there are, and light our candles to begin to burn away this hatred and evil. 

We Are Still Here

Letting who we are be heard and seen, while there is still time.

Photo by Dustin Humes on Unsplash

These are troubling times on this earth. I have had difficulty writing for a while, or painting, or doing much of anything except trying to exist from one day to the next. The country that I grew up in is in deep danger. The world is changing. The earth is hurting. I hurt.

I don’t understand how all of this happened. We lost our way somehow, and I fear it will take a long time to find our way back, if we can. I don’t know if I will live to see that, now that I am in the land of the elders. 

I have felt lost, defeated, and powerless. And that is what works, I know, to keep my voice silent and my spirit dampened. So, let me begin to at least create space again for my voice with these written words. Let me begin to use this voice to speak to aging and what we are told about that. Let me begin to use this voice to resist those that would create chaos to take over our country and all that it has stood for. 

I am not dead yet, I can say to the ever-present reality of mortality, one of the gifts (bittersweet) of aging. I still have time left to be alive and to cherish each moment. None of us know how much time that we are graced to have, but as we grow older, we know that the time allotted grows short. And we are still here.

Our country is not dead yet, not taken over completely yet. We still have parts of our democracy here that can reawaken and remember who they have been and what they stand for. There are many of us who are dismayed at what is happening. We have been shocked into being frozen, but we are thawing out from the fire within, this fire that is such a part of being an American.

There are protests, petitions, voices once again rebelling against tyranny and dictatorship. Voices that begin to loudly state NO. Enough. This is not who we are. This is not what we have fought for all these years as our guiding intention and purpose. We are better than this and we can do better. 

No, we have not done things perfectly, by any means. Did our government need some restructuring and cleaning up? Most definitely. Did it need to be destroyed. Most definitely not. 

We have stood for human rights, imperfectly, which is why we need to keep records of our history alive and present. That way we can learn from the past and not repeat it. 

We have been a beacon of hope for so many, and have been a source of light and hope, not one of danger. We have been a source of welcome and refuge, not a country where its citizens now need to worry about finding safe spaces. We have been proud of our free speech, where now we are being censored and punished for daring to disagree or criticize those in power, although it seems that the standard does not apply to them. They name-call, criticize, and belittle others frequently, as well as blame everyone else for anything that goes wrong, to distract from being seen for what they in fact are doing, destroying, trying to take over and claim. 

This is how power gets taken away from us…by overwhelming us, by creating cults, by distracting us with never ending assaults to our democracy and its structures, by yelling so loudly at us that we cannot hear our own voices. 

Our voices are still here. We still have power, or they would not need to move as quickly or as loudly as they are doing in order to try and overtake us. We are still here. 

I can say that I am still here as an elder, too, to the voices in my head, as well as those in society who would discount me as no longer being relevant or serving any purpose. I will take up the space that is mine and I will use my voice and speak my heart. I will not go quietly or disappear in order to make someone more comfortable. I will help remind others that they will be here, in the land of elderhood, much sooner than they think, and that there are things to learn and to value from me and from their own path to aging. I can say to them You do not need to be afraid of me. I can help and offer some wisdom, comfort, and guidance, if you wish. Have I done things perfectly? Far from it. Do I still have things to offer? Absolutely.

 I can also say I am still here as a woman, that I am equal and have the same rights as men, and am more than my ability to have babies. I love and honor mothers, and I also know that women are more than that. We are human beings that can not only mother, but can teach the world about how to care, how to love, how to work together, how to cherish each other, how to protect the next generation and those yet to come, how to mother the earth and all of her creatures. And we are more than capable of making decisions about our own bodies. Period. 

 I can say I am still here as an American. I am the American who loves the inscription on the Statue of Liberty and all that she stands for, the American who tries to be compassionate while being fair, and tries to navigate the world with light, versus darkness and threats. I am the American who loves her neighbors and realizes the importance of connection, allies, kindness, and trust, the American who wants to believe that this is who we still are and that this is what we can get back to and keep improving and working on. I won’t give up on this vision and this hope. We fought too long and too hard to get here. 

Let us not die before our time. Let us live and use our voices, our hearts, and our strength. Together we are strong. Together we can do this. All races, genders, creeds, ethnicities, ages, beliefs…we are all human and we can come together to be more powerful than any hatred or conflict. 

We must, while there is still time.