It’s Saturday March 12th.
We’re 12 days past the visit of the ‘historical’ flood. Amid all the rest of things happening on our planet… it’s been hard and difficult for many.
This is the 6th time I’ve tried to write here… this morning I said to myself… ‘I hope I get to write again’… of late it seems to have disappeared.
Except in my journal’s private pages… where my anger rages.
My nervous system has needed me… focused on settling it as lovingly as I can manage. It’s been a lot… many times I’ve been floundering… lost from myself. Lost out beyond… in distant oceans. Been a monster Neptune time. The heaviness out doing itself… I do what I can with what I know to break the cycles ages old that continue to play on repeat. Most times I resort to snuggling with a novel. Removing myself for a while… from this reality of our making.
It’s a fucker of a time for sure. When oh when will the dark lords be taken down? I refer to them as that… the miserable, conniving, heartless beasts… what human would create a system like ours if they hadn’t sold out to Satan.
The anger seeps out from its hiding place. We all have our story… the personal ones that come close. Then there’s the gagging… if not from the lords, from our own fearful self… of upsetting those close to us. So we keep quiet.
The anger builds. I’ve wondered… the morning here still young, the wet still around, I am safe… thousand aren’t. I ponder… how would it be if women stood up on mass and displayed their rage… for what’s been done to their family, their children, themselves. Would that collective rage blow the bastards off their self created thrones.
The anger is deep… ages old it is. Sometimes I ‘go back’… I’ve always done that. Take a little visit to times before. Revisit the scene of the crime. Mostly bloody and terrifying.
I’ve witnessed my body spasm hard… shaking itself free from the iron bars… ejecting the monsters hiding away in places unseen. When something touches them… a skilled hand, a focused intention, a healing presence. Then out they come… body jerks and jerks, sometimes violently… high off the table… my poor spine hurts.
The anger simmers… how dare they touch the children. What will it take, how much will we endure… till we stand and say… it all stops here.
But anger is a foreign bed fellow… we’ve hidden for so long. Forbidden it was… god we did it to our own children. Fearful of its rage… the danger it presented. We’d seen its manifestation. So all anger was outlawed.
Now it stirs… and when not addressed… the shock, the depression descends. This is even more insidious… as it creates a form incapable of movement. Incapable of moving forward.
The anger stirs… we’ll find a way. We’ll find a way to let it speak. The fierceness of the mother… we’ve yet to touch on its power.
Wet, cold, hungry… in despair. Locked up inside… eating us alive. Transformed into a world of robotons… I saw that when I first arrived.
The power of Woman we’ve not touched on it yet… of course it’s shown its face… and we’ve seen the results it’s achieved.
Yet we haven’t touched its capacity. The fierceness of a Woman protecting her child, protecting life.
The anger seeps out from the skin… what a powerful brew. We could make a potent medicine with it. We’re good with making medicines. We’re good with loving and nurturing.
We’re tired and exhausted… it’s been a long road. We’re still here… fighting for our right to speak… often from ourselves.
The air is filled with so much grief… so much anger, so much shock.
Within it all a new time stirs.
Maybe I’ll find my new voice… up ahead somewhere. My fingers itch to move… the pen, the keys. Yet inside is a whirl… a whirl of things beyond my control… I can’t make sense.
I’m lucky… I’m safe. I have a home. Dangers missed me this time. But this is not the end of it. There is so much more ahead.
The anger oozes… will it join and change the world.