Friday, September 4, 2020

Birthday Heart Inventory for Turning 46

 


45 was a good age, but I’m happy to leave that cursed number behind. As I wrote the first draft of this inventory, I was in a shocking sense of well-being. A lot of the time, there’s a magic in the resignation and hardship of 2020 that translates to calm. Other times, I have to go back to bed and play Merge Dragons until the panic subsides. This morning I’m somewhere in the middle.

 

Like the world (and so, SO much less than so many people in the world) my heart is trying to heal from so, so much loss and pain. Business suffered, but more importantly, there was fear in every breath. There was grief in every breath too, mourning the very many who had their breath stolen from them by the violence of police, the violence of white terrorism, and the violence of national medical neglect. It’s hard to write about my heart while we’re all in an ongoing, unfathomable trauma.

 

On May 31st, I watched the Philly riots start, I saw the first police car catch fire in a moment when I didn’t know where several of my friends were. Two friends were pinging me from where they were boxed in by the police near the flames, but some I worried were dead for days. The streets where my friends live were under police and military occupation for weeks. I saw my regular Target getting looted on the national news, and for all the people-over-property, it hurt. I still see people whose bodies and whose ancestors’ bodies have been looted by America for centuries selling good from those weeks on the sidewalk, and that part makes me glad.

 

This year my heart learned that you can reject someone and feel abandoned by them at the same time. Some of my family members seem to have been swept into the slimy Russian internet sea forever. I’m trying partial estrangement with my mom and some extended family because I just couldn’t make room in my psyche for all of the gaslighting. The loss is real, painful, and the culmination of lifelong political abandonment. Even though I’ll be 46 tomorrow, I’m still a little kid who wants to scream WHY WON’T YOU JUST TAKE MY SIDE?! I’m realizing to a deeper and deeper degree that you can’t both fight white supremacy and keep all of the familial amenities it provides.

 

The mental and emotional space I gained by blocking Mom’s facebook made room for so much new community connection. Whether it’s marching, stopping by the daily 8:46 vigil in my neighborhood, or offering support to liberal friends stranded in more hostile places, the community of the Movements feels like true love. It feels like what my life means.

 

I’m still mourning the loss of John Lewis. Though he’ll be a source of advice in my head forever, I miss sharing the planet with him. I can feel the warmth and generosity of his handshake when I met him in September of 2016, and that’s a big part of what keeps me going. What keeps me, most days, hopeful.

 

To counteract the bitterness, hurt, and self-recrimination of this hard hard year, I chose MERCY as my word for this new birthday year. Mercy is more badass even than lovingkindness because it asks me to recognize the power I have and asks me to wield that power with benevolence and discernment. That’s a pretty tall order, but I’ve got a year to work on it.

 

 

 

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