The Seerz of Wazizwilbi

(Loveslapped)

Our Past: Rupturia
Chapter 1: Land, The Buried Me

We Once Were One: The whole is greater than the sum of its parts

There is no coming to consciousness without pain.

–Carl Jung. 1875-1965

 

The opposite of poverty is not wealth. 

In too many places, the opposite of poverty is justice 

–Bryan Stevenson. Born 1959.

 

I may not survive

so I must share this unfinished work, now.

Many years ago, I was torn apart

by injustice that continues

to this day.

One injection

of a socially sponsored toxin

suspended me in the prism of pain.

There, the clock’s dial sneered

as it hands clobbered me.


I protexted, resisted and struck back,

until I was persona non grata.

As I fought for life and truth,

I cried out one night:

“Will we ever span a bridge over this Gorge of Animus?”

 

We can influence whether we have 

a planet of peace, social justice, equity and growth 

or a planet of unbridgeable differences 

between peoples, wasted resources, 

corruption, and terror.

–James Wolfensohn. 1933-2020

 


I imagine one of the reasons people

cling to their hates so stubbornly is 

because they sense, once hate is gone, 

they will be forced to deal with pain.

–James Baldwin. 1924-1987


Okay, not quite so eloquently.

It was more

of a guttural, throaty, growling howl

of desperation, disdain, and disbelief.


Experience has shown how deeply the 

seeds of war are planted by economic

rivalry and social injustice

–Harry S. Truman. 1884-1972

 

When I was poisoned, I collapsed,

curled up into a fetal ball and howled in pain.

The unjust toxin destroyed my organs.

Ate me alive, from the inside out.

And would do much, much worse.


Optimism doesn’t mean that you are blind

to the reality of the situation.

It means that you remain motivated to seek

a solution to whatever problem arises.

–The Dali Lama. Born 1935.


Once I landed at the bottom

I just lay still for days

every millimeter of me hurt.

I moaned and moaned.

 

To truly laugh, you must be able 

to take your pain and play with it.

–Charlie Chaplin. 1889-1977.

 

Eventually, I rolled over 

and climbed to my knees.

Knelt, swayed, chanted, and prayed.

Once I got to my feet, I yelled and howled 

then began to laugh.

 

Underneath, in a vast network of sinkholes

Even time hurt 

as it crawled ahead and dragged me along. 

I descended deeper into the tunnels of pain.


Step into the fire of self-discovery.

It will not burn you,

it will only burn what you are not.

–Mooji. Born 1954.


First, trekking deeper, I feared my memory of our home crumbled,

forever reduced to the rubble of delusion;

once a fantastical realm, now no longer real,

once, where empathy extinguished desperation,

once, where essential sustenance was in abundance,

once, where we strove to govern inclusively,

once, with compassion.

Alas, my world has been shrunk to a leaky snow globe,

now designated by the dealers of hate

as a derelict relic of the vanishing;

despite defiance, ransacked and inversed.


Second, herein, I employ the term, “tale,” loosely.

This is more like a topographer’s field journal,

comprised of translations of strange tones

and renditions of vague visions

elusive to the surface world.


Third, the route herein is not linear,

more like points on a compass

whose needle spins madly

in three dimensions.


Fourth, I painstakingly tried

to render the vital details

but ever-constant fear

informed my POV.

Fear that I would

fail to prevail,

fail to live,

fail to ever have

any meaning at all,

never to make my mark,

construct, contribute or create

never, not without my missing half.

 

Until the great mass of people shall be filled

with a sense of responsibility for each other’s

welfare, social justice can never be attained.

–Hellen Keller. 1880-1968.


The winter solstice has always been special to me

as a barren darkness 

that gives birth to a verdant future beyond imagination,

a time of pain and withdrawal 

that produces something joyfully inconceivable,

like a monarch butterfly 

masterfully extracting itself from the confines of its cocoon,

bursting forth into unexpected glory. 

–Gary Zukav. Born 1942.

 

It is a curious sensation:

the sort of pain that goes mercifully 

beyond our power of feeling.

When your heart is broken, your boats are burned:

nothing matters any more.

It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.

–George Barnard Shaw. 1856-1950.

 

Does saying, “things are improving” imply

that everything is fine,

and we should all relax and not worry?

No, not at all.

Is it helpful to have to choose 

between bad and improving?

Definitely not. It’s both.

It’s both bad and better.

Better, and bad, at the same time.

That is how we must think

about the current state of the world.

–Hans Rosling. 1948-2017.


Into the echo chamber of his own mind,

where he was always able to find 

a justification for the most terrible action. 

–Una McCormack, Born 1972.

 

If you want something you never had,

you must be willing to do something you have never done.

–Thomas Jefferson. 1743-1826.

One day, I heard water dripping.

A crystal clear, “Blink,”

bounced off the cave walls.

In this echo chamber

I ran round and round

–until–

A spring of babbling water

led to a stream

led to rushing, rising water.

–I paused–wobbled–

then fell into it.


Rising, spinning in its eddy,

Rising, ready to be restored;

Rising, alongst its nautical ascent.

I was weak when I reached the riparian surface, atop


Just like moons and suns,

With certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

–Maya Angelou. 1928-2014.

 

He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed.

Like the hiss of incinerating ashes.

‘What is this bright orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?’

–Jesikah Sundin, Transitions. Born 1978.

 

The human race

cannot forever exist

half-exploiter and half-exploited.

–Henry Ford. 1863-1947.

 

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait 

a single moment before starting to improve the world.

–Anne Franke. 1929-1945.

Back, above ground

I was blinded by the sun.

My eyes adjusted,

cringing reduced to squinting

until I could hold my eyes open 

without pain.


I rolled and wiggled 

in the warm dirt,

basked in the sun.


Then I heard them,

the dominion dogs

barking in the distance.

The lush carpet

of tall, thick brush

parted as they charged toward me.


Though not done, my time has run, so to you,

I bequeath my memories and dreams.

Do not rest on disconent;

elevate your efficacy;

build our biome, wisely.


Men should begin to learn before they die

what they are running from, and to,

and why.

–James Thurber.

 

In time of crisis, it is of utmost importance 

to keep one’s head. 

–Anonymous.

 

It is not the size of the dog in the fight, 

it is the size of the fight in the dog.

–Mark Twain. 1835-1910.

 

They’re here, skidding to stops,

digging their claws into the ground,

snarling, growling, snapping

an inch from my face.

 

I fight to hold them back …

 

As if I am wrestling with time, itself,

stopping them from tearing into me,

stopping time from rolling over me.

Their erratic jerks, stay,

their convulsions, pause,

their snapping jaws, stall.


Their saliva drips in slow-motion

until the stink-drops halt, mid-air,

and the tick-tocks of the clock stop.


Go now. Go quick.

Go find my other half.

Go bring my other half back to me!

 

Through the sacred art of pausing, 

we develop the capacity to stop hiding

to stop running away from our experiences.

We begin to trust our natural intelligence, 

in our naturally wise heart,

in our capacity to be open to whatever arises.

–Pema Chodron. Born 1936. 


Courage is grace under pressure.

–Earnest Hemingway. 1899-1961.