for my good old Millie.
“I buried Little Ann by the side of Old Dan. I knew that was where she wanted to be. I also buried part of my life along with my dog.”
—Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows
Constance, I ran across this “rant” on privilege:
There is this attitude, when people bring up white privilege, male privilege, heterosexual privilege, that is starting to bother me more and more every time I see it. It’s the attitude that causes people to respond “Oh, but I’M a GOOD white/male/straight person” or “Well not ALL white/male/straight people are like that!”
1) I didn’t accuse you of anything so let’s get back to the actual issue, the social structure built up around us, instead of going off on to tangents
2) thanks for belittling the whole issue with you’re petty self-serving ultra-prideful comments that didn’t promote or advance the conversation in any way
3) Just because you don’t see the problem doesn’t mean it isn’t there. And more importantly, privilege is something society gives to you, you don’t have the power to just give it back, or deny it. Like it or not, you have it.
Accept that, and instead of trying to assure me of how much you don’t want it or don’t think you have it, why don’t you find ways to fix the flawed system that gave it to you.
Here is the deal: it is granted, and it can be snatched away…I know, up close and personal.
Sadly, Constance, “Animal Cruelty” is merely human beings being what they are…directed at animals.
It is what we have become…because when Animal Cruelty is directed at me, it is gender cruelty, and when it is directed at someone of a different race it is racial cruelty…
…who are we kidding? We are sick, and we need a cure.
This song was playing when They did a significant and life preserving miracle in my life…in 2008, when I had gone on a trip with plans to never come back…and I mean never come back to this world.
I love Them so, They are so good and nothing but good. (DDH…still need to tell you this!!)
It’s remarkable how many of these I had already read…and loved.
Quite interesting article.
What is worse?
Failure to comprehend
or inability to do so
or simple stupid unwillingness?
Well, those are bad,
but I think maybe
that mindful dedicated
application of religion
is the worst of Worse!
Disguised in pretty robes
and preening in petite frocks
but there beneath the costume
naked greed bathing in legalism
and staring into the mirror
of pragmatic production
of self righteousness.
Opposite of Beauty, that!
Opposite of Beauty, this!
Opposite of Life, there!
And those determiners
and injure the living
with their so called answers
and blind eye to suffering
and hard heart to longing.
After all this hurt and all this pain
(when would that be? After?
When does that happen?)
I choose silences.
I choose to let myself be haunted by words
rather than speak those rivers
that would erode fabricated realities.Tonight the wind smells like memories…
oh nothing I can put my finger on,
mind you…just memories
blowing on winds fragrant
with nostalgia and neglect.
I am mindful in these memories
of the language of lilies
and I wonder if I have missed
some great and vital means and end
in their present beauty,
some antidote for anxiety,
some prescription for preoccupation,
some long term cure contained
in short-lived beauty born?I am mindful of Mary
there in Bethany pouring out
perfume fragrant and pervading
permeating every pore present
and singing the liturgies of lilies
on the winds!
Sweetly, singly soaring over that rukus of disgust and anger
that puffed up, distracted religious men
righteously piled on in their
Canticle to Cacophony!They hated her…but they hated Him more
for His blindness to her there,
clinging in tears and wild hair
defiler and defiled!
They hated His stinky feet
smelling of humility and adoration,
perfumed in gratitude and broken beauty
and I think they would hate me, too
sitting silent and choosing
the haunting wind over the haughty story.I imagine the language of lilies
that day divinely appointed
and here this night now,
I look, listen midst ashes all around me
to catch a glimpse of life
in risk and recognition,
of rising up, above
the toiling, turning,
spinning and weaving…
simple and poured out
in haunting perfumed
adoration and beauty…
life as a lily,
and how it grows fleeting
and haunted by memories in the wind
and eternity in my heart.