I don’t live in the United States. I have family there – have dear friends there – was born there – have neighbours / siblings / strangers I care about, there.
What has been going on in that country, particularly lately in Minneapolis with protestors lawfully resisting, ICE agents illegally assaulting and once again, murdering, my emotions are like so many others, raw, reactive, and more, as I try to reflect and recognize that hope still exists, that goodness will overcome.
A black pen found its way into my hand and squiggles and waves and patterns and words began to surface tonight. Living alone, there is no one here with whom I can process it all because I live alone. I found that it felt good to say the words out loud, write the words, spit the words – and realize that tiny fragments of hope and rootedness and faith are there too. They’re few, but they’re there. And I am grateful to see that they are – they exist – they’re there.
So I will hold on to the reality that is deep within me this night. I will hold on to that reality – that hope – for the people of the United States, the people of Iran, the people of Greenland, the people of Ukraine, the people of Palestine, the people of Canada, the people of other parts around the world who are fighting for justice and democracy, for without even a smidgeon of hope, evil wins. It cannot.
If you’re having trouble sleeping, pick up a journal and write your thoughts – squiggle a wiggly line and add some words – talk into a recording device. Let those deep emotions surface for a short moment so they can be acknowledged and no longer have such a strong hold on you.
Drawing this, whatever-it-is, tonight has not been as good as having someone to talk with about it all, but it’s been helpful. It’s one way to get what is deep within me, out, If only for a little bit. And isn’t that part of what resistance is all about? Put the little bits together and change can happen … our own emotional well-being as we try to deal with it all, and the situation itself.
May sleep come this night
… to all who live in fear
… to those who dread the approaching storms
… to all who were present or have watched the videos of today’s murder of a 37 year old American who was defending a young woman tackled to the ground by ICE
… and to all who grieve, remembering particularly the family of Alex Jeffrey Pretti.
Rest in peace, Alex. May you rest in peace.
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© June Maffin
https://soulistry.com/blog
www.facebook.com/junemaffin
@soulistryjune.bsky.social
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Engaging
Good to know, David. Thank you.
Thanks June, your words are always helpful.
and your drawings and ‘squiggles’.
Thanks, Rohana. 🙂
I too live alone. My husband died in 2019, and I’ve had to deal with. the mounting horrors alone. In a way, I’m glad he missed the worst, but I’m alone.
This may help. Thank you.
I’m sorry for your loss, Gail. I can relate to your having “to deal with the mounting horrors alone.” My husband unexpectedly died in 2016. He was much older (16 years) than I. He grew up as a child and youth in the Netherlands and so was more-than-aware of “what was coming.” I grew up in Canada . May we be strength for one another. Some of the last words my husband said to me was “You are stronger than you think you are.” Gail, you are stronger than you may think you are. Thank you for writing and for your encouragement to keep on writing. We ARE stronger than we may think we are … we are, because we have to be. A gentle cyberhug is on its way to you this day.