Sadness in Greenville regarding Ferguson

For many that know me, my on line silence regarding Ferguson must be a surprise. I have to admit, with the chaos that has been going on in my life lately, I haven't had the time to really follow what it going on, but a mere log onto any of my social media sites has smacked it right in my face.

My only response? Sadness. I don't know all the facts, I am not sure of all the players but what I do know is that on the night before Thanksgiving our Nation still has no idea had to empathize and forgive. My social justice friends are posting articles in support of the rioting and violence, my other friends and family are posting articles and commentary on the exact opposite. All I ask is where is the love and compassion and empathy?

I can't begin to imagine the pain and mourning of a community that is so distraught it resorts to looting and vandalism. Regardless of the court case, this is a community that needs to find a voice.  I can't imagine the pain.

Where is our empathy? Where is our desire to find the good in all people and to say, "what can we do to ease your pain?" Obviously, whether or not  you feel that the verdict was justice, there is still a group of people in pain and to empathize with that group does not have to mean that you agree.

Pain is not black and white, nor right or wrong.

Why are we so set up to have to pick a side? I don't trust the media, I don't trust the internet.... I just feel sadness.

• Sadness that a community is living in fear, regardless of their ethnicity, regardless of their socio-economic class.
• Sadness at the loss of a child, someone's son.
• Sadness of the police office and his family, for enduring this trial.
• Sadness for the police forces sent in early "just in case"
• Sadness for communities of color who feel that they have no voice.
• Sadness for communities of white people who feel that they must pick a side.

"There is no higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts." - Mahatma Gandhi

Hard day reminders

I'm usually boosting, what a great job I have. When I tell people what I do there are a few responses: "wow! good for you" or "oh, i'm sorry" or "I could never do that". My answer usually is that I have an awesome job, no two days are ever the same. I can be counseling with clients, or staff in the morning and unclogging a toilet in the afternoon. I can be on a conference call regarding effective legislation or making rice crispy treats with the children. I've been known to post some fun pictures on instagram with the hashtag #shelterlife, because as some of the staff say "you can't make this shit up".

There are days though that are hard. There is an emotional currency that is spent here and we work very hard at self care. Vicarious trauma is real. It affects advocates every day and is the number one cause for burn out.

We work very hard at empowering and creating an inclusive environment in which all choices are accepted. Although we hope to educate and support victims survivors of domestic violence, we work hard every day to ensure that they are able to make their own decisions . We pride ourselves on giving them all the information  needed to make informed choices.

We have very few rules. Those that are established have been made to ensure a safe environment for all of our clients. Apart from that, its their home, not ours.... they are free to live how they chose.

Often this is the first place that victims are able to make their own choices...things that most of us take for granted.... what to eat for dinner, when to go to bed.... how to dress or wear their hair.

• Seeing victims survivors feel that freedom are the good moments.
• Seeing victims survivors struggle with those freedoms is the beauty that I witness of their personal journey. 
• Seeing decisions being made that I am afraid will affect them in the long run is really, really hard.

Today is a hard day. I take some solace in that this is only a snap in time of their life.

I'm reminding myself that the universe is providing the opportunity for lessons to be learned, and for strength to be built. Often for victims survivors to grow they are taking two steps backwards to move three steps ahead....

I'm hoping they learn to cha-cha.

Sunday reflection

There's something about the quietness of water, of floating gently and smoothly on the surface of the water. A cool breeze and the warm sun. 

Frogs singing and birds in the trees above. 

The silence and stillness is relaxing. 

Self reflection and quieting of my mind is not always an easy task but out there in that moment, it was perfect. 

That smile

Today I was invited by a friend to go to a Memorial Day BBQ. I'm typically good with this sort of thing. I can mix and mingle, make conversation with just about anyone. It was a mixture of a crowd and I enjoyed it immensely. When the 40 plus crowd dwindled to about 15 I found myself in the back yard enjoying some cocktails and conversation. As the topic of conversation to the right of me turned to what was obviously a re-enactment of some comedian's rendition of a "retarded" person I stood quietly. 

Those that know me, know this is a huge feat! With  most  issues that I feel strongly about its hard for me to contain myself, especially if alcohol is involved, but this time I stood quietly. I took a few deep breaths and when the topic died down I took out my phone and showed those involved in the conversation this: 

And said, " this is my son Walker".

That's all I really needed to say. The men started apologizing and I shook my head and said, "no need, just remember that smile" and walked away.

I wasn't angry, I wasn't sad. It's life. It's what people are afraid of or have no experience with that they make light of. 

I hope that with my gentle nature and understanding that they learned something today. When your language and actions are based in hurtfulness, it is always someone's child you are talking about. 

Whether it be race, religion, class, sexuality, gender identity or able ness, it's someone's child. He/she/they are loved, cared for and worried about. 

Remember that smile! 

Simply simple

It's been a year of transition. What I sometimes forget is to get out of my own head and remember that it's been a Year of transition for my children too.

Two different houses and my oldest moving out has left our sanctuary feeling a little off. 

I've been putting serious thought into it. Meditating on it and wondering what the universe wanted me to learn. There has to be some lesson here. 

And there it was. 

Something simple. 

Something perfect. 

9 months later

Last August I finished my last graduate class at SUNY New Paltz. The class was a perfect ending to my educational program, it was Expressive Art. It was an amazing mix of theory and social justice practices combined with a safe classroom atmosphere In which art could be ceated. For me, art is a vulnerability, an insecurity of mine that was only fostered in higher learning. So to end my graduate work in this way felt fitting to the degree I was getting. 

It was bitter sweet. I was happy to be done but sad that I was not given the opportunity to wear a cap and gown and walk onto stage to shake hands and get recognition for my degree. My university only does commencement ceremonies once a year. The next opportunity to partake would be 9 months later. It just felt anti-climatic. 

To my surprise I received this picture today 

I have to admit, I felt a ping of accomplishment and pride! Although I didn't walk on stage it did make me take a moment and acknowledge to myself that I did it! I worked hard and completed my goal. No party, no cards, no cap or gown is needed to prove to myself that I did it! All in my iown! 

I am from

I am from log cabin walls and cathedral ceilings,

I am from worn out slippers and baskets hanging from railroad ties,

I am from 33 records spinning the story of Fiddler on the roof and Paul Simon lyrics.

I am from horse shoe pits and firewood.

I am from oils stains and gravel driveways shoveled in the snow.

I am from corn fields and Holsteins and black dirt tornadoes.

I am from unpaves roads and the turn around tree.

I am from Dottie and Clara Bell

Chocolate chip cookies and meatloaf

I am from family portraits hanging on a stair case.

I am from cedar trunks and shoe boxes filled with photos and memories.

I am from "foof it" and "dunk the baby"

Dancing in the rain and catching fireflies.

I am from riding motorcycles and collecting river rocks.

I am from the black cherry tree bending in the wind and the spring peepers singing ther song.

I am from everything that was, that is and that could be.