THE TRUTH & THE POWER
Thinking back to the summer I was 14. 1995. I spent my vacation in Coeur d’Alene, ID on the lakeside waterfront. With my bike, and the beach, and my bestie. We soaked up the best of the surf and the sun. And we learned how to lie.
It was too much fun. People would believe anything it turned out.
Yes, we said, these were our bikes. French racing bikes, Motobecane. We’d ridden in the Tour D’France, we quipped, raising eyebrows at each other. Would they buy it? Even that? And they did. Dumb luck. We grew bogus and extravagant in our one-upmanship of the fact.
It seemed like nothing was what it seemed. Seemed like we were all supposed to be quiet about what was really going on. Seemed like there was one note — and we were all supposed to hit it. We agreed on that. It was tacit, but we agreed on that. It would be white superiority by the strong hand of patriarchy and I would be judged by the size of my body before the content of my soul.
The minute your body develops, which is to say the minute you begin to grow, which is to say every day of your existence here on Earth; they look at you to see if you are beautiful. Which is to say white, which is to say thin, which is to say likeable, which is to say passive and smiling.
I strived to be quite a woman.
I strived to be quiet a woman.
If I couldn’t speak the truth, well then I would manipulate it.
Towards the end of the Bush years, eight years of deception such as the world had never seen, I found myself involved in an elaborate love triangle. It was more like a quadruple pentangle. An open secret wherein we all were betraying and cheating ourselves. I realized as I watched Obama be elected, this simple truth. I didn’t have to lie.
Then, being honest, truly deeply honest, I would become what I am. Dreamy and a psychic sister.
That was the beginning of my Saturn Return, and I had my first astrology reading with my teacher Rosie Finn. Look, I said, I can read these cards and I’m looking for a guru. Someone to whom I can devote myself and learn from. She looked at me curiously and said, That is the old way. Now we are at such a place in time, we are all responsible for waking each other up.
Wake. Up. Goddess help us wake up. If we cannot see what is important by now. Then we cannot see.
Let’s focus. I offer this clarity.
Before the last election I dreamt I was on Lake Coeur d’Alene and Donald Trump was there in a profuse sweat trying to fulfill his promise to deliver each and every American one single ice cream cone. He sat down next to me in an exhausted heap. We looked up to the waters edge and suddenly saw an orca breach!
Holy fucking shit, I said, holy fucking shit!
Sis, my Dad warned, reminding me to watch my language.
The orca came very close to the shore and I moved in to meet it. As we neared the waters edge, it shape-shifted into a clear gelatinous tail and a form taking human shape. A mermaid. I turned to Trump as we both stared slack-jawed.
Now, I thought, wouldn’t he have to understand that Water IS Life?
It seems like some of us know it, and the rest of us are pretending. I am no longer willing to pretend as I was no longer willing to lie.
The denial of climate change and the cruel destruction of our natural world is suicide. The continued oppression of black and brown bodies, of the indigenous peoples, of impoverished nations, is murder, slavery, and genocide.
Nero plays on. Now, as we end the reign of this Mad King, a product of our extreme national narcissism, I look at the culture of vanity that has cropped up all around me. The exteriors are so beautiful now, and the interior life a shambles. We are forced to admit that our social currencies cannot buy us love, self-respect, dignity or justice. Covid has turned the lights out on all the fanfare. There’s little distraction to prop our egos up. Everyone has been reduced to the realities of life in sweats and a face mask as we suffer the full volume of our existential dread. Another day, another disaster. Science knows. And, well, we know. We know.
Last night. In dreams. I visited the White House and Trump was still there. There was no service or decorum because no one worked there.
The truth is, no one is at the top.
I am not at the top. There are no hierarchies in spirit’s work. I am no better and I am no worse than any other being on this planet. We can point at him, or them, or her and hate. But, the truth is this tremendous goodness and this spiteful evil runs through each and every one of our hearts. We are all responsible to the sorting of our souls. To be joyous before our failures and our weaknesses, to be humble before our successes. To genuinely self-reflect and resolve to be a little better today than we were yesterday. To choose the rewards of this inner work that will lead us to a better way. The soul is calling! Wake up, wake up, wake up.
YOU are the one in power now.
