Category Archives: Faith

The Shamed Undone

Cross-bones

Cross-bones

I loved my darkness as much as my birth

My humanity imposed upon my divinity

With mild impunity or dire consequences.

The pixel width line of temperance

United with my poor balance of judgment

Toppled me into temptation

But my deliverance from the Shamed

Came when I opened my spirit

But kept my flesh firmly attached

To the bones that threatened to break

The bones that are now, nearly,

Washed free from my repugnant regret

With a redemption I didn’t deserve

But am ultimately worthy of having.

I strive now, at the knees of wisdom

To fulfill my obligation to the Light

because the alternative…

…Is an inky hate that tastes horrible.

…Is a tar sand of volcanic corruption.

…Is the destruction of my own construction.

…Is laying in wait to assassinate me.

I wait no longer than necessary to stand.

I wait no longer than necessary to defend.

I must balance. I have to. My soul depends on it.

Ancient Tomes

dustybooksThere is a mummified shroud

unraveling in our spirits
that are delivered with gusts

of gauzy breaths
revealing chapter, verse,

the context and content
of our lives lived
by the turning of our pages
to reveal
the chapters of our hearts
to one another
in labored, birthing, unity.

extend humanity outward
like a library of reciprocal knowledge
donate your gifts to fill your coffers
 
Teach from the trenches

Learn from the quarry
Bloom from the crap
Shine from the darkness

Believe from the silence

Joy from despair

Triumph from resistance

Freedom from oppression

Meaning from Understanding

Everything Will Be Okay

“You are more than a human being, you are a human becoming.” – Ann Harris

I’m not quite certain what’s occurring in my life right now, but there is a major shift happening that I can feel. It’s seeping out of me like a sweaty wall of moisture. My eyes keep staining my cheeks with tears only I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel angry. But yet I’m filled with the emotions that I’m walking through allowing them to be what they are. The shift is occurring. I’m just not sure yet of which direction the Universe is rearranging my path to walk, but I know I have to keep going.

August 17th, 2014 (Church service notes)

I’ve been a bit sad lately because a lot of things have been falling away from me. However, when I arrived this morning and was greeted by the attendees, I felt such a wave of love and peace fill me that I started to leak. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t sad. I was neutral in emotion, but my spirit kept leaking. A tender heart brought tissues to me so I wouldn’t have to use my skirt (we really should put tissues near the hymnals for leaky days), hugs from all my beautiful friends filled me further.

As the service progressed we were asked to close our eyes and lend a bit of spirit to someone making a difficult decision. We were asked to reach our spirits and shine a bit of light into a dark time. I closed my eyes, pushing out my spirit that I visualize like a white fluffy under-a-Christmas-tree skirt. Without warning, I could see.

Flowing out from me like an iridescent white misty cloud, I could see my spirit doing just what was asked of it to do. As each person lent their bit, I could see the colors dancing up like popcorn. Some with sky high flooding spikes of lovely exuberance, others with earthy warmth and compassion appeared in a menagerie that overflowed my spirit again. Not happy, not sad, neutral in emotion but satisfying.

Then the unfortunate story of a horrific attack and the response with love and compassion felt so real, my tears were like blood that wept for the suffering, but healed into tears of courage. It was, again, something I felt, acknowledged, and observed. It felt like picking up an item from a shelf, examining it carefully, feeling the weight of it in my hands and heart before replacing it where it belonged.

After the service, I was approached with the kindest words I needed to hear today. A beautiful, heartfelt thank you from a human woman that made me leak again. I felt, in response to her thoughtfulness, that my grateful heart understood why I am here on this earth. The love and acceptance from her at that moment reminded me that I will be okay. Just like another warm soul who sought me out to tell me that same thing. She said, “You will get through this and you will be okay.” Completely unsolicited and yet, so absolutely necessary for me to hear. I felt comfort. I felt at home. I felt like I belonged which, for someone like me, a rather rare occurrence is.

During the course of the conversation with yet another friend, I realized that life goes on and things happen. Some things we can control, others we can watch, and others are so far out there they seem like the Twilight Zone, but despite the situation, with a bit of hope and a lot of determination, we will get through it. We will be okay.

I’m at the halfway point in between services and I’m still feeling rather neutral in emotion. Sad a bit. Happy a bit. Not numb because I can still enjoy what is happening around me, not detached because I’m still engaged in my conversations, just…neutral.

As I started this article which, truthfully is part rehashed, I know that the same shift that directed me to attend this church in the first place is shifting me again. I’m being guided with a firm “hand.” I don’t feel fear or confusion, just uncertainty. I’ll heed the warnings and the omens I’m shown because my intuition has never once misguided me. I don’t need to understand the whole picture when my eyes are clouded with the mundane. I just need to put one foot in front of the other and believe that when I reach the next rest area (man do I need to go!) it will be as I’ve been told, okay.

Trusting yourself is not always easy, but it’s the best way I’ve learned to continue the path to being a human becoming. What a glorious phrase that is. Let’s just breathe and trust that we’re following the right path. If we feel afraid, that’s okay. If we feel sad, that’s okay too. Just do something. Breathe. Live. Act.

Invisible Divinity

curtains

“Even with all my loud, I can feel invisible. When that happens, my first immediate thought is, “OH NO! Everyone hates me. There must be something wrong with me.” Then I remember, I’m my biggest fan and sometimes I’m an audience of one. And when I still feel insecure, I give myself a round of applause like the lone clapper in a movie and for some reason, the angels agree and begin to clap along and I remember I’m loved, worthy, cherished, and beautiful. Coincidentally, just like you.”

It is no secret that I’m bawdy, opinionated, loud, and if I were born in the 1800’s I probably would have worked in, if not run, a house of ill-repute simply because wild people are fun people most of the time. But I also know from personal experience that loud people, funny people, brave people are usually born through the anvil and hammer; Cleansed in the fires of abuse and neglect.

It is my understanding that we are all Divine creations. Every one of us. Every aspect of God is in every face, breath, and life everywhere. When there are abuses suffered a soul that cause so much damage that it strips the Divinity down to the gnawed bone, there are still bones. There is still a skeleton on which to reattach the courage. The femur can meet once again with the pelvis with the first steps towards healing which can be as easy or as complex as the sufferer requires.

Before I’d reached a point of realization, I was still loud and bawdy but I was also incredibly self-destructive. I tried my darndest to erase the gifts I was born to use. I fought against destiny to the point of estranging myself from all of those I loved because I wasn’t loveable. At least, I didn’t act like it nor did I feel worthy of that love. But, as with everything meant to be okay, I woke up and understood after many years.

I’m not saying that I sat bolt upright in bed exclaiming myself healed. I had to finish off the sinew of shame, bite through the tendons of guilt, and shred the reluctance towards abundance. There had to be nothing left, rock bottom some call it, before I could try on new muscles with ancient memories. It’s how I got so comfortable in my God-sized skin, I grew into myself.

Each step on my path to self-discovery has been another step closer to embracing the love and light I was born to share with the world. Your gift may be as a financial whiz, or a teacher of basketball, or as a nature enthusiast, all or none or more. Whatever your gift is, it’s there waiting for you to pursue it full force with the passion it deserves. Don’t be afraid. It will be okay. You’ll be fine. Grow the necessary muscles to rebirth the parts of yourself that you remember as your favorite parts because those, old friend, are righteous. Expect there to be growing pains as the comfort levels stretch to accommodate your full beauty. It can get quite uncomfortable, but with each new muscle firmly established, the power you can offer is astounding. Those places are where your soul calls you. Heed them.

The cool part about being a manifestation of the Divinity, realizing it, rebuilding yourself, is that you get to choose what you keep and what you discard. If you don’t like it, you can reject it, save it for later, or implement it immediately. If it doesn’t work out, then that’s not the right fit. That’s okay. A guest speaker at my church said, roughly, that we’re so afraid of imperfection that we have other people around just in case WE make a mistake. He was right. We’re supposed to be without flaws if we’re Divine creations, right? We’re supposed to be perfect, right? The only thing we’re supposed to be perfect at being is who we were born to be using the gifts we’ve been given. Everything you need is right now.

So what does that have to do with feeling invisible even when I’m loud to the outside world? That’s when I normally forget that, looking back from the mirror, I AM that divinity. I owe myself a round of applause for remembering I’m loved, just like you owe yourself the gentle reminder. When I fall into the doubtfuls and the I-can’t-do-this traps, I remember to bow and try again. You, like me, can achieve what you need to do. Your Divinity, my dear friend, is precisely who I look forward to meeting so that I can join in the applause with you.

These Are My People: Shanna Harris

Sheba

Sheba the cat never smelled that good again.

She went unnoticed, unimportant, just another face to greet and forget. Politely enough she smiled, laughed a bit, joked a bit then faded quickly.

In the freezing cold of a February winter on the mountain’s edge overlooking the valley, the sun came out and shined from her face. She forced a double take from me.

The snow melted away as if July had suddenly sprung a leak before it was supposed to and stole the frigid air right from our lungs.

I stood there and looked at her and she at me. Our eyes blinked like newborns at the sudden bright light that ignited in between us like a bonfire.

As the snow drifted on the winds that tickled the pine needles down from the branches to land on the pristine white, we became believers in faith and one another.

We picked up our brooms, our mops and our feather dusters and buckled into mundane work while we wove our foundation with light and shadowed ghost stories.

Our hands took away the dirt that accumulated on surfaces long ignored, like she’d been, like I was. The intricate loom swish-clack-swished our lives together into a southwestern design.

The colors were rusted sand, Ponderosa pine, snow white, gravel gray, sunset pink, sunrise yellow, and broken sky blue. We wrapped within each stitch making it our fortress.

When the work of the night was completed, the cleaning utensils put back where they belonged, we remained. We stayed bonding our bindings with tomorrows that have yet finished their tasks.

Women’s Immortality

HeLa: The Immortal Henrietta Lacks (1920-1951)

HeLa: The Immortal Henrietta Lacks (1920-1951)

Where are the women who are unafraid to be the equal of men? To stand as their creators? To be burdened with their mortality? For we, as women, as mothers, are immortal. We have been granted a power that all humans must acknowledge, particularly the men who use oppression and tyranny to impose their version of self-righteous piety while pillaging villages, pockets, and people who birthed them.

We were blushed into passivity through vile and violent means. Our voices taken by violations against our bodies, against our spirits, against the essence of our glorious contribution. The Patriarchy discounts their birth by denying the truth of their own creation. They refuse to honor, as Maya Angelou sasses, that we dance like we have diamonds at the meeting of our thighs.

We are their creators. We are their equals. We are the Light of the Goddess; the vessels of her beauty in all of her forms with billions of names sprung free from the lips of our tribes, our people, our neighbors and families. We are immortal by the generous fruit we produce in our tree of life. We are the basis for their power, the support for their child-like steps.

They are not cruel and unforgiving of us because we are women, oh no. They know we are without end. They know we last longer than they. Their deaths will come before our own. Their genes become as muddied as their jeans, but the Matriarch will be the crown of their history. They want to hide her away as, according to the Mormon’s beliefs, God does his wife. So sacred is her name, or so I’ve been told, that even God will not speak her name to anyone else for fear they would desecrate that which he loves above all others. He holds her sacred, not as a less than in the equation.

My sisters, take heed the power of your name as the Matriarchs of ancient history have spoken. You are the power of the Universe embodied in physical form, freed of your heritage, embraced by your sister-kin, released from the shackles of Patriarchy if we choose to leave in unison.

We are not meek and mild. We are fierce and protective. We have allowed ourselves to become divided into separate distinctions instead of unified. We have been torn down to be seen only as ornaments, only as decorations, only as status symbols but not valued for our true selves. Our strength, our courage, our power, our voice, our very being is to be embraced, celebrated, lifted up in the arms of our sisters standing proudly by our sides.

We are the Alpha and the Omega of their mortality. We are the embodiment of The Goddess.

The Battle of NOW

NOW is when courage gets strapped on like armor
with the buckle of character and the belt of strength.
With the grieving already completed
nothing left to lose but the chains of slavery
perpetuated by the blind by choice monarchs
of an antiquated sense of royal entitlement
I will heed the trumpets of battle calling me to arms
I will join those who require justice, balance,
My sisters and brothers united.

NOW is when the shadows should be fearful
for the Light is coming, I carry it.
Until the last breath is drawn from my lungs
with a battle cry as fierce as fire
I will hold my torch aloft without discrimination
but with mercy unknown to those ignorant of truth.
Know that the moon is my shield, the sun is my guide
The clouds themselves won’t allow dark to hide.
With my sisters and brothers I will unite.

NOW is when the warrior voices of those who survive,
covered in battle wounds, scars, and bruises,
raise up their outrage against the injustices.
Swinging axes of love and beauty against the darkness
Slashing red ribbons into pretty bows to enhance life
Encouraging the young to speak violently
words of compassion, kindness, and dreams
Reminding everyone of the language of their soul
United with my sisters and brothers, I fight.

NOW is when we band together
under the warrior’s banner that reads
“COME UNITY”
with the sword of truth gleaming glittery
with freedom released into the air from the cage
where it stagnated under the weight of oppression
where it strangled under the lies of darkness
where it remained every hopeful of rebirth
Only we can be the midwives of this bloody mess
Only we can set the cries of the newborn into the world
with a swat on the buttocks of bad behaviors
apathy, disinterest, rejection, bigotry, anger
Only we can swaddle our neighbors and communities
in the dawning of a new age with baby steps of joy.

My brothers and sisters hear my please!

Come, oh come, oh come to me!

NOW is the time to refuse division of our spirits.
NOW is the time for progressing our peace through love.
NOW is the gift we’re given to make a difference,
you and me and the faceless stranger.
NOW is the time to be present in changing our future
one loving gesture at a time.
NOW we can recognize one another openly
know that it is not just your burden, but OURS.
NOW we can pull up our shirtsleeves,
honor our hearts, our minds, our hands together.
NOW we can continue the work of our ancestral souls
that are bound to our blood as we are bound to one another.

My brothers and sisters hear my please!

Come, oh come, oh come to me!

Dude, your pants are too small

On white people it's called plumber's crack

On white people it’s called plumber’s crack

If a white man had not done it, there would be no attention to it. It was fine and dandy when it was just “those” people. It wasn’t an issue either when it was with “those” people, weed and the old west gunslingers with AK-47’s. Eminem said, he wasn’t wrong, that it wasn’t a problem until it hit middle America in reference to the epidemic of drugs, but add in a tiny addition that includes fashion trends, particularly I’m referring to sagging.

Although I do not personally wear it and I’m not fond of how it looks, that’s a petty thing to pass a law against like they did in the backwards one horse town of Pikeville, TN. What a waste of time, taxpayer’s dollars, and a reversion to the 1950’s ideals of what “those” people are allowed to wear, be, do, and where “those” people are allowed to roam (but not after dark).

This is not difficult. If you’re going to get all outraged and up at arms, why not try being upset that your neighbor is without food? Or a job? Or comfort? Why not be upset about abuse, rape, people with drug addiction, homelessness? What? Oh. Those don’t affect you directly, so we can ignore that. Besides, “those” people need to be kept in their place, bless their hearts. Nobody taught them manners or propriety because we all know that’s our job as the good KKKrischins we are.

Walk down the street nearly anywhere and suddenly the biggest problem you have is someone’s clothing? Not the Veteran on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign that dives for cover any time a car backfires? Not the woman with her children huddled next to her on a park bench where they clearly live? Not the neighbor who sits alone without company because nobody visits?

What in HELL is wrong with you? Pull that plank from your eye. Use your eyes to see a problem. Use your mind to find the solution. Use your hands in the name of your God to improve the world. I’m not claiming to be perfect. I’m not claiming to be better than anyone else. I want that clear. I’m not throwing any stones. I’m holding up a mirror.

P.S. Although I’m using the term “those” people, I do not wish to have this taken out of the context it is intended. This is meant as a mirror towards people who think skin color is something to use a divider between who can and who can’t do something.

GO LOVE! Stop the Hate

As I’m scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed each day, I noticed an unusually high ratio of hate. Hate Justin Beiber? That’s okay. Hate Westboro Baptist Church? That’s okay. How about Democrats? Republicans? Atheists? Gays? Women? Men? Goldfish? That’s okay too.

I am all about personal freedom. I believe that every person is entitled to their own opinions, beliefs, and ways of doing things. What I don’t understand is why the hate of such ridiculous things? If you want to hate something, what about poverty? Hunger? Rape? Acid Attacks? War? Human Rights Violations?

These are things that should be hated. These are things that should not be tolerated, but we do. We allow it because it isn’t in our own backyard. It’s okay because it isn’t directly affecting most of us, thankfully, on a daily basis.

STOP HATE! GO LOVE!

STOP HATE! GO LOVE!

If you’re reading this, you at least have electricity with pretty good odds you have clean safe water to drink. If you’re reading this, you’re probably not worrying about soldiers breaking into your house, killing the man/men and raping the women. If you’re reading this, odds are you have at least a rudimentary education that taught you how to unlike the millions of children who will never witness these words. If you’re reading this, odds are you’re using some sort of electronics device that cost enough to supply an entire village for an entire year clean water, food, and/or medicine needed for survival.

The generosity shown by the United States when 9/11 happened, when Katrina hit, when, most recently, the tornadoes hit in Oklahoma, is amazing. That’s because it happened where we couldn’t ignore it. We couldn’t walk away because the victims of these tragedies are our neighbors, friends and relatives. They have faces like ours.

Think about this: The people in a remote village in South Africa, in Russian States, in China, in Singapore are someone’s neighbors, friends and relatives too. They have faces, but they don’t look like our well fed American selves. They don’t have the resources we do. They don’t have what we do, but that doesn’t make them any less of a human being.

Hate is such a nasty thing. It takes away from our compassion. It takes away from our kindness. It blurs love into a meaningless statement of favorites instead of being the action it is intended to be. Think about what you dislike. Now think about all the wonderful things we could be doing for each other right now in the name of love. Do not tolerate the abominations against humanity. Find a way to change the hate speak into love speak. It’s the only way the human race, humanity, will survive.

Division will Multiply and Add to our Subtraction

It is my hypothesis that we’ve forgotten our communities. We’ve forgotten, as a whole, that we’re in this together because the lines of division have been drawn between liberal and conservative, African American and White, White and Hispanic, old and young, healthy and sick, poor and rich. We’re told we have no common ground and that it’s every wo/man for themselves. With rare community exception this appears to be the “norm.”

We’ve forgotten our addresses as places to be charitable. We depend on the faceless churches to do what we do not want to do which is know our neighbor and lift them up with loving hands as we know in our hearts is right. We deny it because it’s easier to look away than to look poverty in the eye. We see the problem but rarely solve it because surely someone must be doing something about that already, right? You know, those faceless people that occasionally get a shout out by “DoSomething.org” or “Upworthy” or “Because I said So”.

We don’t have to be human, we just have to do what we’re told. We shouldn’t look at those homeless, starving, unhealthy people because they’re the problem. They’re lazy. They’re alcoholics and addicts. They’re people who deserve what they get because if they’d only tried a little harder, got a better education, given up the booze they would make it in this world. They wouldn’t be littering our streets with their hollow eyes, freezing hands and feet, or spitting blood onto the concrete covered in our garbage they took sustenance from for dinner.

But my further hypothesis of why we commonly look away from instead of towards a solution is that many of us know we’re but a paycheck or two away from the very same fate. Seeing our futures reflected back at us from the eyes of a hungry child is not something we wish to see in our own families. Seeing a homeless Veteran sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign is not how we want to believe we treat our soldiers. Seeing a woman angry at her dire circumstance allows us the right to look away so we don’t have to see what we may become should the fates not smile on us anymore.

I have been working in my own community to establish a garden where the people I live next door to and across the street from can work elbow to elbow with me to create sustainable food for our families despite circumstance. It is my belief that if we work together we can make a difference in our lives. But sadly, there is little hope here. Without a torch to light the way, without strong voices calling them out to join the fray, we will remain in the darkness of poverty, starvation, homelessness, and the stigmas that are attached to those solvable issues.

FOSTER: “Y’all just get my compassion thing a throbbin’ but you forgot the one thing that drives EVERYTHING in America, MoNeY! God love you for your innocence but if already rich old white men can’t get richer it ain’t gonna fly.”
•
CHAPIN: “Need way more people like u around”
•
ERRETT: “You should write a book Mare… Excellent writer”
•
BAKER:

Lilo & Stitch – This is My Family.
•
MARTELL: “CHAPIN, the thing is, we’re all these people. We just need to do the right thing. You’d not let your own child starve, why someone else’s offspring. We all bleed red. We’re all one.

FOSTER, you can’t eat money, you can’t house someone in coins.”
•
FOSTER: “Oh I couldn’t agree more, I’m just saying the prevailing feeling amongst the right wing is “I don’t care about a bunch of brown kids” “lazy old vet should get a job” “I got mine, why should I care about you” it is a shame money becomes an issue when the subject is basic human dignity but to so many it is.”
•
MARTELL: “There are 535 members of Congress. There are 317 million Americans. Allowing this to continue is an abomination to humanity. We the People of the United States, not who has the most money. If we stood united and refused to allow people to destroy our unity and humanity, we, ALL of us, could make the changes necessary without violence, without anger, without hatred, but with love. Love won’t feed a child, that’s fact, but the hands that make that food with love can.”
•
FOSTER: “From your mouth to God’s ears my good friend. I am not cynical just resigned to the level of cruelty that about half the people in this country are capable of. You can find them every Sunday morning in pews across the country, right next to the ones who would wish things were different.”
•
MARTELL: “Wishing doesn’t solve anything. Waiting for someone else to do it doesn’t solve anything. Claiming good heart while your neighbor loses everything in foreclosure because of family illness or loss of employment doesn’t solve anything. It’s only when we use our hands with love towards one another that we’ll be following any common sense. If it happens to one of us, it can happen to all of us. We need unity back in our community. Without it, we’re no better than those 535 members of Congress, or the VA that allows our soldiers to go without care, or the family services that allows children to go hungry or the department of immigration who destroys innocence because of an imaginary line drawn on paper. This should outrage us. This should piss us off. This should be addressed by We The People because I don’t want to wear the label of executioner of humans. It’s morally wrong.
P.s. I don’t care which religion you follow or don’t follow. This has nothing to do with that. It has everything to do with love.”
•
LOONEY: “Read this entire conversation, I couldn’t say anything better. I’m proud of the spiritual aspect and the integrity that you’ve grown into, my daughter. A wholeheartedly agree that the loss of community is a symptom that plagues us. Families no longer live in the same house or even in the same town/city. Therefore the so called breakdown of the family -IMHO-has as much to do with geography as much as lack of commitment to many things.”