i am thinking about a ridiculously simplistic ledge from which to save ourselves and the world

i've been thinking a lot lately about a lot of things. as usual.

but this morning, i think i finally figured out something important:
1. there is an essential distinction between what i can change and what i can not
2. the world will not be saved by way of policy and formalities; we're gonna have to do it ourselves.
3. i've actually always known these things, i just never believed them.

case in point: preventable, treatable, and curable diseases are killing a ridiculous number of people in wealthy and developed countries. why?

because our system is not set up to support us.

this isn't news: hurricane katrina victims are still fighting with fema, the federal government is in bed with big money corporations and a pet war that's been killing people since the early 1980s, and local governments are thankful for whatever funding they can scrape together.

the more i pay attention, the more i feel like people tend to wait for someone else to raise a voice for them. why? i will be the first to admit disillusion in the protest scene. i was in washington dc for the code pink protest that surrounded the white house just weeks before the us began it’s takeover of iraq in 2003. since then i have marched, held signs, blogged, volunteered, phonebanked, canvassed, signed and circulated petitions, and attended and spoken on behalf of myself at city council meetings, congressional lobby days, and tammy baldwin’s listening sessions. for what? the war in iraq hasn’t blinked, and i still don’t have the same partner benefits or marriage rights as my heterosexual peers. in fact, my non-right to these rights has actually been written into my state's constitution.

so what the fuck is the problem?

case in point: nutrition and community. and we’re gonna have to do it all by ourselves, because our system is not set up to support either of these things.

i am thinking about the copious amounts of carcinogenic chemicals that factory farmed and shipped produce and meats are exposed to. i am thinking about school lunches, hydrogenated oils, preservatives, fad diets, and exercise alternatives. i am thinking about community gardens, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a walk with a friend. i am thinking about a guy at a meeting that i was at a few weeks ago who was talking about a community garden that was built in an effort to teach troubled kids about nutrition and teamwork and plants. i am thinking about my great grandma and how i feel like i need to take the summer off so that i can spend a couple monthis in indiana learning from her how to grow vegetables, how to can them, and everything else she knows. i am thinking about the most beautiful and productive personal gardens i’ve ever seen and how they were cultivated by my grandparents. i am thinking about neighbors and how i was in my 20s before i outgrew my training to fear them. i am thinking about how long it took me to learn how to cook fresh produce (or anything for that matter), and how to use olive oil instead of margarine or cooking spray (eew), and that i probably might not have learned these things at all had someone not shown me. i am thinking about the house that i am living in, and all of the hands that came together to make it a home.

i am thinking about what could be possible if we all came out of our houses and started sharing and teaching and supporting.

i am thinking that we can change the world.

but only if we want to.

Comments

[getinmymouthstuff]

B.R.I.: Because it resonated with my read of your post. Walker says it so well. cj

It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame.

This is the tragedy of our world.

For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.

…Sometimes our stones are, to us, misshapen, odd. Their color seems off. Their singing…comical and strange. Presenting them, we perceive our own imperfect nakedness. But also, paradoxically, the wholeness, the rightness, of it. In the collective vulnerability of presence, we learn not to be afraid.

…even the smallest stone glistens with tears, yes, but also from the light of being seen, and loved for simply being there."

- Alice Walker, Everything We Love Can Be Saved, Introduction, p. xxlll – xxv

thank you.