Tag: politics

The Mirage of Pleasure

We are a society that is infiltrated with greed.

The demon of greed lingers in each one of us, a small voice that tells us “we need more”. 

“No, I cannot stand by and simply let the breeze run through my hair, I need to fight against it”

“What? I cannot just enjoy the computer that I’ve had for 10 years. No, I need a new one”

“Why would I wear the same clothes I’ve worn over the past 2 years? Something newer would fit my style!”

We live in perpetual desire that leads to greed.

I reflect on the rumination of wanton and greed as I think of the current state of affairs in the world. I reflect on the reality that we are living on a floating planet, somehow charging each other illusionary currency to determine our livelihood and wellbeing. This currency gives us passage into our experience; who you will know, where you will be, what your health will look like. All in the space where everything on earth is arguably free.

All because of possession. And greed.

There is a certain amount of grief that arise in moments like this. A grief that we perhaps have made a much more construed existence than it need be. Grief, at the difficulty it is for each of us to be free. Grief, that even as I write this, I understand that each of us are simply trying to eat. Grief, that we have not allowed ourselves the real benefit and wholeness of living spiritually.

Grief so deep that I speak to my clients in the tongue of grief. Grief so deep that many “mental health” issues derive from this greed. Grief that I am a complicit participant in the world of desire, consideration and greed.

Grief. I feel it all over me. Recently, I’ve been debating on how I can go back to school and get my PhD and afford my cost of living. How can I provide people help and also not be rightfully indignant at the very system that claims to support me. How can I allow the gifts of my ancestors to slip my mouth and only be expressed when I am validated from the “yes” of the cursed man. The same man, who’s very breath is tainted with the sour stench of greed.

I am…in but so many words a kaleidoscope of emotion. Frustrating coats the shoulders that begin to ware in the face of inhume acts. To feel trapped in a system that is based on the selfish needs of the “me” instead of embodying the spiritual principality of “we”. To provide service to a people’s whom “mental illness” are derived from the very same exhaustion. And grief. To understand that many are ill because their spirit cannot hold them to the system that has betrayed them. And dampened the soul that God has given them — how could I look a reflect of myself and feel anything but grief?

And yet…I still hold the most silent prayer in a well so deep, I thought God Himself could not find it…A prayer that He will somehow deliver us and set each one of us free. 

But we have to embody this freedom first between you and me. God, give us free. 

Ameen.

The Tides of Destruction

I’ve been in a space of deep-seated anger.

Deep-seated anger—you know, the type of anger that makes you feel restless. When you hear something that feels so contrary to your nature, you feel the slightest bit of resistance in your body and suddenly, the need to lash out! To yell, to scream “SEE ME! HEAR ME! Feel me”

Yeah, that type of anger.

I think we each feel it. It’s been such a wild two years hasn’t it? All the hopes and dreams of what we built on the fragility of “security” wasted away as a virus came in and snatch the rug from underneath our feet. Reminding us that safety and security was never quite that safe. Oh but we knew this. We knew it. Don’t lie—haven’t there been a many of times that you walked outside to take a stroll around the block and a young man smiled in your face, his eye lingering a bit longer than you’d like? And you found yourself confused, wondering “do I have something on my face?”

You felt it—in times were you were prompted to speak aloud in front of a group of people and not only to speak aloud but to speak CLEARLY. Efficiently. Effectively. To move people with a deep sense of conviction and admiration. And safety was stripped away just as quickly as you were asked to speak, wondering “what would they think about me?”

Living in the illusion of safety has helped us only in as so far as we are able to see it’s illusion. To understand that safety means to truly feel that you have a right to be here. Deep in your bones, to feel it vibrate in your soul, “I have a right to be here. To exist”. But a good majority of us do not feel this.

How could we? Our history is convoluted with so much pain and suffering, the stripping of our very humanity and oh, the tales and stories of slavery! A sure disease that makes us feel so unworthy.

Yeah, this anger is layered deep.

I’ve been frustrated. How have we sold ourselves a tale of lies? Lies that have made us so unseemingly, we have forgotten that to walk on this earth is not a privilege but a birth right. That to exist is to play out Gods plan perfectly and to create is to truly be free. I’ve been angry.

And so many will say—“a woman?? Angry? A black woman at that, not a foreign sight—it’s to be expected! They walk the earth so bitterly, of course you would find the likes of her angry.”

But you see…my anger is holy. From the same womb that created this existence, I gaze into your face and witness bliss. The sweet symphony of all of humanity, a gift that has been graced to touch the Holy Mother, as feet kiss the ground that created our flesh. As spirit sanctified our breath.

So you see, hell yeah, I’ve been angry. We are so much more that we have become to be if only we would allow ourself to ascend gracefully. To remind each other that money, prestige, the likes of intellect and the mind can hardly superseded the stirrings of the heart and spirit that created all that be.

I hope our anger allows us to wash to the shore of God’s feet and infinite awakening gently.

I pray that our anger allows us all to be free.