Something I find fascinating about this time period is I think almost everyone feels powerless to some degree. That could be because they’re unsure whether they’ll contract COVID-19, or if their loved ones will die. People may be feeling powerless over what’s happening with the economy, or the fact they’re living under quarantine. Powerlessness could also arise over something as small as being able to buy butter and flour.
It’s interesting to notice how people are responding to that powerlessness. Some folks are diving into substances like food and alcohol. Others are chafing against the stay-at-home order and instead clamoring to reopen their state. The anti-quarantine folks remind me of early American revolutionaries in some respects, but also I think they’ve lost touch with why we revolted in the first place.
If you look back at American history, King George III heavily taxed the colonists to refill the British coffers after winning the French and Indian War. The colonists were taxed without representation and pissed about it, eventually defying the government and revolting. We revolted against an unjust, inequitable system that benefited the wealthy elite an ocean away.
Let’s turn this world right-side up. Photo by Greg Nunes on Unsplash
These days, the people who are defying government orders seem to think they’re tapping into the American spirit that values freedom, but in actuality, they’re putting themselves and others in harm’s way. If we take a look at who’s benefiting from this pandemic right now, it’s again the wealthy elite. But instead of being tied to the government, these days the wealthy elite are tied to corporations. In an era when corporations are considered people, they are the ones being protected through this pandemic, not you and me. You and I are left to flounder, to figure it out on our own. Again, for me that harkens back to revolutionary times, which is fitting at least from an astrological perspective.
The U.S. is undergoing its Pluto return. What that means is Pluto is in the same position it was when the country was founded. A positive use of Plutonic energy is a greater sense of empowerment, strengthening will, and transformation. A negative use of that energy is power struggles with dominating individuals or institutions, a clash of wills, and destruction.
The last time Pluto was in this position, a mentally ill man (King George III) ruled over the U.S. and exploited its citizens for his own gain. I’d argue we’re seeing another mentally ill man rule over the U.S. and exploit its citizens for his own gain. While it’s easy to feel disheartened by everything happening, and believe me, sometimes I do, this period is also an opportunity.
We have a chance for rebirth and transformation. A chance to really live the values this country was founded on: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And instead of those tenets only applying to wealthy white men, they can apply to everyone. This is our chance to create a country that values and supports all people. This is our time to honor real happiness that isn’t tied to material gain at the expense of the planet. To live in harmony with all living beings. This is our time to evolve into a better version of ourselves, our country, and our planet.
I dream of a world where we wrest power from the powerful and create a more just society. A world where every person is allowed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. A world where we respect not only each other but all living beings. A world where we also act as stewards for the planet itself and enact a planetary revolution.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day I went for a walk in the woods by my house. While on the trail, an animal turned around and stared at me for several seconds. It reminded me of a dog, but I didn’t spot an owner and also the face was too triangular. Was this some sort of cat? I kept walking and again the animal turned around. We had another moment. After seeing its tail, I realized, “That’s a fox!” I’d never seen a fox before despite living in a variety of environments. Also, the foxes from children’s books are usually deep red while this creature was more brown.
When I came home, I looked up the meaning of foxes in the book Animal-Speak by Ted Andrews. The whole entry didn’t resonate with me, but one part did. Foxes reflect “a new world opening up, that the process of creation is beginning. It reflects that the world is growing and shapeshifting itself into new patterns that will be beneficial.”
The world is getting smaller and smaller. Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash
I know COVID-19 is affecting people negatively, me too, so I don’t want to downplay that, but I’m also wondering if we’re shapeshifting into new patterns that will be beneficial for us. I think about how the National Health Service, the U.K.’s medical care system, sprang from the crisis during World War II. The government started Emergency Hospital Service to care for the wounded during the war because the issue of health provisions was a growing problem. We’re starting to see that in California right now too. The state bought two vacant hospitals to help with the influx of patients due to COVID-19. Are we seeing the beginnings of nationalized healthcare? Maybe.
I also think about how FDR enacted the New Deal during the Great Depression. He promised he would act swiftly to face the “dark realities of the moment” and assured Americans he would “wage a war against the emergency.” I realize Trump is no FDR, but perhaps this is where state’s rights will come into play more and each state will enact policies to benefit its residents.
On a micro level, people seem to be kinder right now. Neighbors are helping neighbors, people are checking up on the elderly, procuring food for those in need, and donating when and where they can. I’ve heard many a comparison to the days following 9/11, but I didn’t live in New York then and didn’t experience the outpouring of kindness and consideration that so many people mention. In my part of the world, things pretty much continued as usual. In this time, we are all affected regardless of our geography. The entire globe is experiencing the same thing to a greater or lesser degree.
My spiritual teacher says during periods of psychic and physical clash like we’re all experiencing “the existential feelings of human beings do not remain confined to their physical bodies alone, but spread to those around them. Initially they think about the welfare of the members of their own families, but with the gradual evolution of their minds, they see themselves as members of a global society and become actively engaged in promoting the well-being of all.”
I think that’s what’s happening here, at least for now. We’re seeing ourselves as part of a global society and promoting the well-being of all. Things are hard and scary right now, absolutely. But maybe as a result of this pandemic we’ll all start caring about each other more and we’ll enact programs that benefit the many instead of the few. That’s my wish anyway.
I dream of a world where we recognize we’re all in this together. A world where we understand we’re a global society and it’s important to promote the well-being of everyone. A world where we take better care of each other because we recognize what affects one person affects us all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Friday, I came home and found my plants had been cut. My jasmine, lovingly tended to for the past three years, was reduced to a wisp. My long, woody-stemmed wildflower vanished. Shock, grief, betrayal – I felt all those things. I realize some people might be scratching their heads saying, “They’re just plants. They’ll grow back.” But like I wrote about last week, I operate under the belief all living beings have souls. My plants are like my pets – I talk to them, they have names. I care whether they live or die. I’m very attached to my plants.
The experience also has me contemplating what many black and brown people are undergoing right now. They come home from work or school and find their loved ones just gone, vanished. If I felt this way about my plants, how much worse must it be with a family member? How can we do this to one another? The answer? We have an identity problem, in my opinion.
When children are ripped from their parents, some people will say, “Well, they’re not my children,” and leave it at that. Or they’ll spout rationalizations for why inhumane treatment is justified: “They broke the law,” or something similar. It’s a way of cutting themselves off from others. People who don’t seem to mind children sitting in cages have a boundary to their identity.
Where does your identity stop? Photo by Amol Tyagi on Unsplash
Let’s talk about identity a bit more. When you ask someone, “Who are you?” They’ll likely state their name and then other labels like gender, age, ethnicity, etc. If you ask them to go a little deeper, they might start talking about their family or nationality. Maybe they’ll mention their political affiliation. All of that is fine – I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with identifying in that way, but can identity go further than that? If we stop our identity at a certain point, when I talk about “my” children and “your” children, it’s easier for me to put “your” children in cages.
My friend gave a talk about this last summer and he asked, “How is it we can celebrate and protect human diversity while seeking to transcend divisions so we can socially cohere into something deeper, truer, to who we are on the inside rather than how we project on the outside?” Meaning, how do we keep our labels but also go beyond them?
Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m not just my name, age, and gender. If you took all of those things away, wouldn’t I still be me? In various types of meditation, the point is to get in touch with the unchanging “you.” The “you” that’s calm and ever present. The “you” that’s unaffected by superficial trappings. And the more we touch that part, the more we realize everyone has that part. That Self exists universally. I see myself in others and others in myself. It’s why I get upset about dying plants and children in cages.
Some people might say I feel that way because I’m so openhearted. That’s true, I am, but I would also argue it’s because of how I identify. I identify with plants, animals, children. My identity is one of inclusion rather than exclusion.
Everything I’m talking about is the philosophy of neohumanism. Truthfully, neohumanism is more than a philosophy, it’s a worldview that guides every step. It allows me to sink into who I really am at the core. If we all practiced that more, I doubt we’d have children in cages or environmental atrocities because we’d recognize we are more than the bodies we inhabit.
I dream of a world where we recognize who we really are. A world where we identify with more than our limiting labels, not as a way of discarding them, but rather recognizing we are also much more than our labels. A world where we tap into an unchanging, eternal Self and see that Self in others. A world where we remember I am you, you are me, and we are one.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Many things are on my mind and heart right now. Watching Australia burn, I feel powerless and scared. It’s destruction of epic proportions and my heart breaks for the people and animals affected by the fires. I also feel powerless and scared as I watch President Trump’s aggressive actions toward Iran. What really freaks me out is that neither he nor many of those in power seem to care one iota what the vast majority of Americans want. He’s hellbent on marching toward war in order to stay in power.
The whole thing makes me want to burrow under the covers and tune out the world. In fact, I did a little bit of that today – I stayed in bed two hours after I woke up meditating, reading, and endlessly scrolling through facebook and instagram. The book I’m reading, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, is by a therapist who realizes she needs therapy herself. In it, Lori Gottlieb writes numbness isn’t absence of feeling, it’s overwhelm at having too many feelings. That’s sure the case for me.
Where do I, or we, go from here? How do I navigate the deluge of information and emotion spewing my way? Chani Nicholas, an astrologer I follow, said: “We maneuver around despair by focusing on the little wins, the quality of our connections, and the blessing of second chances after we’ve made a mess of things. We have to live out our potential, our dreams, and our destinies one caring act at a time. Like our life depends on it. Like our future is waiting for it. Like it is what we were born to do. Anything that derails us from this aim doesn’t deserve access to our days, nights, or rituals.”
Little by little adds up to something, and something is better than nothing. Photo by Hudson Hintze on Unsplash
Little wins. Right now the majority of people around me are caught up in the fervor of the new year – excited for a fresh start, amping themselves up with resolutions and intentions and things they’re claiming for this year. People are making plans, envisioning how they want their lives to go. Awesome! As for me, I’m reminded I can start over at any time. It doesn’t have to be the new year or a Monday or even the morning to start fresh. I can start my day over at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday. This year I’m retreading my goals from 2019 – the ones I put on the back burner because I chose to focus on other things, rightly so. For instance, I opened a retirement account for myself. I’m not sure I’ll be able to contribute much every month, but I decided something small is better than nothing. And at this point, it’s important for me to just start, even if I don’t wind up where I’d like to be.
That mindset feels like the wisest thing I can share right now: just start. Will my $10 donation to a firefighter unit make a vast difference in Australia? No, but my donation plus your donation adds up to something, and something is better than nothing. Will I single-handedly be able to stop a war with Iran? No, but my voice plus your voice still matters, and even though I don’t have a lot of faith in many politicians right now, it’s still important for me to try.
I’d like to end with a quote from my spiritual teacher. He says, “There are some people who are pessimistic. They say that the society around us is very bleak … Pessimists say this because they have never made any detailed study of human history, nor do they care to. Had they done so, they would certainly be optimistic, because if they had looked carefully at the symptoms of pause, they would have realized that significant preparations were being made for the subsequent phase of speed. So under no circumstances should human beings be pessimistic. That is why I am always an incorrigible optimist, because I know that optimism is life.”
It may seem naive and foolish to be optimistic right now, but for me also, optimism is life. I don’t function well without optimism and what the world needs from me and from all of us right now is function. We need as many high-functioning people as we can get, and if that means being optimistic, if that means celebrating little wins, if that means focusing on the quality of our connections, so be it.
I dream of a world where we realize something is better than nothing and we act accordingly. A world where we celebrate small wins and keep putting one foot in front of the other. A world where we do whatever it is we need to do to make it through challenging times in a way that’s loving and caring for all living beings.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now it’s Hanukkah, which is a holiday I celebrate because I’m Jewish. There’s a part of me that feels nervous publicly stating I’m Jewish given the current rise of antisemitism. But then I remind myself people already know I’m Jewish. I’ve never hidden that before so why would I start now? And in fact, that’s precisely the story of Hanukkah.
Some people think of Hanukkah as the “Jewish Christmas” because hello, we live in a capitalistic culture so it’s all about the gifts, right? Other people vaguely know Hanukkah as a celebration of oil lasting for eight days. That legend was tacked on later to make Hanukkah seem more miraculous. In actuality, Hanukkah is the celebration of people unifying against oppression and winning.
Judah and the Maccabees revolted against Syrian King Antiochus who enacted a series of harsh decrees against the Jews, including forcing them to give so much of their crops to the Syrian ruling class, the Jews had trouble feeding their families. Jewish worship was forbidden; scrolls were confiscated and burned. Sabbath and the dietary laws were prohibited under penalty of death. The small group of Jewish rebels fought against an army of thousands of men and won. How did they win? According to my rabbi, Michael Lerner, they won in part because they believed there is something about the universe that makes such struggles winnable.
In case you didn’t know, this image shows a dreidel. It’s used in a game Jews play on Hanukkah. Photo by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash
In a Hanukkah message, he wrote that “something,” that force, is celebrated when we light candles for Hanukkah or when Christians light candles for Christmas.
“Hanukkah is not just about having a response to the consumption craze around Christmas, it is about affirming a different worldview, a hopeful worldview. [It’s] about replacing cultures of domination with a culture of love and justice,” Rabbi Lerner wrote. “[Hanukkah is also about] recognizing that alternative is not yet fully articulated in the Jewish world and needs all of us to make it clearer not only to the larger world, but to our own communities, synagogues, and Jewish organizations.”
This Hanukkah I’m reminded of what it means to be Jewish: to struggle and to overcome. To be a minority fighting for justice. To join other minorities in doing the same. This Hanukkah I’m also reminded we can win. It seems grim or even impossible that we can wrest power from the wealthy elite hellbent on destroying us all for their own gain. It seems daunting to dismantle racism, sexism, homophobia, and other prejudice, but it can be done. A small but mighty few can accomplish just that.
To paraphrase my spiritual teacher, the strength of five good people is more than the united strength of a hundred immoral people. It also echoes the famous Margaret Mead quote: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” Let’s continue to be thoughtful, committed, organized citizens changing the world. Let’s remember battles that seemed unwinnable have been won, and in fact, that’s what Jews across the world are currently celebrating.
I dream of a world where we recognize there is a transformative force in the universe that makes liberation possible. A world where we recognize a small but mighty group of organized people can overthrow authoritarian regimes. A world where we band together, letting our collective light shine and say “no” to the people who try to keep us down.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The word to describe how I feel right now is “churned.” I feel a swirl of emotions both due to my personal life and what’s taking place in society. I’m angry and sad and scared. I have compassion fatigue. I feel overwhelmed. I want to retreat to a hidey-hole. I want to punch certain people in the face. Did I mention I’m feeling churned right now?
I think a lot of people are feeling churned. The purpose of this post is to say first and foremost, you’re not alone. Second of all, I’m thinking about the reason behind churning. One of the definitions of churning relates to butter, as in milk or cream is stirred in order to separate the oily globules from the other to make butter. The churn creates something new.
Maybe this churn, this agitation, will create something new personally as well as in the world. I think about another time in my life when I felt churned. One such period was at 15; I went to Camp Anytown, which is a camp sponsored by the National Conference for Community and Justice that works to break down prejudice and promote diversity. Before attending the camp, I didn’t think of myself as a racist or prejudiced person. I was nice to everybody. How could I be racist and prejudiced? Well, I was and am. As many people have said, racism is embedded in our environment. It’s the air we breathe; it’s baked into the systems we operate. Our country was literally built on the back of racism. Of course that trickles out to other -isms too. They usually go hand in hand.
Really wish I could find a picture of churning butter, but a food processor pic will have to do! Photo by Irene Kredenets on Unsplash
The only way to root out those -isms is to confront them. To bring them in our face. To get churned up so they transform into something else. That’s precisely what happened at Camp Anytown. We shared our snap judgments of different races. We talked about media portrayals. We held panel discussions about our own experiences. And we changed.
I wonder if that’s happening for us right now. If we as a society are transforming into something new and this is part of the process. We’re in the painful part where the oily globules are separated from the other. We’re in the unsettled part where things are strange and disorienting because we can never go back to how it was before. The U.S. will literally never be the same after Trump’s presidency, for better or for worse. People may try to go back to the status quo, but it will be impossible after so much has been revealed.
That’s the role of struggle, according to my spiritual teacher. He said, “Just as all-round physical exercise makes the body fit, similarly appropriate psychic and spiritual exercise … leads to one’s psychic evolution and spiritual elevation. If one is keen to advance, if one wants to attain expansion as well as bliss in life, one must continue to struggle.”
I’m there. I’m struggling. We all are. And maybe it’s a sign of our evolution and elevation. How we’re all going to be better for it.
I dream of a world where we recognize struggle can lead to something better. Where churning means we’re in the middle of growing into something new. A world where we have patience with the process of transformation. A world where we understand churning leads to change.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the role of the individual and the collective and how sometimes the individual’s desires are met at the expense of the collective’s. In particular, I’m thinking in the context of climate change. Recently I read the most horrific article about climate change predicting a genocide from it. How in some places drought will last for five years. Five years! People, I’m not too proud to admit I’m terrified, because I am.
I also thought about how we got into this mess and from my perspective anyway, it seems in many cases we put short-term gain before long-term sustainability. How some corporations decided as long as they could make a profit now, that’s all that mattered. The future? Well, that’s in the future. Worry about it then. I realize I’m painting corporations as the villain, but corporations are made up of people. I see shortsightedness in individuals as well. When I lived in London, I had a roommate who steamed a dress by running the shower while she puttered around in the bedroom. When I called her on it, she said, “Well, I pay for the water.” Her response dumbfounded me. What do you even say to that? She felt like she had every right to waste water because she paid for it. In that circumstance anyway she didn’t think about the impact of her actions. She only thought about how she wanted her dress wrinkle-free but didn’t want to expend time ironing it.
We’re all spinning on the same blue planet. Photo by NASA on Unsplash.
Sometimes we live in bubbles and think our actions don’t affect other people or our environment. We don’t think about how interdependent we all are. On the other hand, sometimes we take too much responsibility. I read another article in the Guardian about how our personal actions to combat climate change only go so far. Switching to compact fluorescent light bulbs only does so much. Of course it makes a difference, but the scale is small compared with the greenhouse gases emitted by agribusiness and factories. Many of us have bought into the idea solving climate change is the individual’s responsibility. It is. And it’s not. We must work in tandem. Carry a canvas tote bag but also put pressure on corporations to change their ways. Drive an electric car but also demand the government build better public transportation infrastructure.
This post is a little all over the place but what I’m getting at is sometimes for the good of the collective we have to sacrifice a little. Sometimes for the good of the collective we can’t think only of ourselves and what works for us. Sometimes we have to think about other people too and the environment and how all the pieces fit together. We have to remember we aren’t our own ecosystems. We aren’t islands completely removed from others. We all fit together and that means our selfish and self-centered tendencies must be reigned in. We are individuals and we are a collective. Both matter and both have a part to play. For the long-term health of the planet, we must learn to work together in harmony.
I dream of a world where we balance the needs of individuals with the needs of society as a whole. A world where we keep in mind the future and long-term sustainability of the planet and each other. A world where we learn to work in harmony for the good of all of us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m sick right now so I can’t guarantee the eloquence of this post, but I wanted to write something anyway because I feel passionately about this topic. I’m observing a few things going on in the world right now. Tension is high. People are pissed, rightly so, at all the injustice running rampant. I’m not a sexual assault survivor, but I was also affected by the Ford-Kavanaugh hearing. To listen to so many horrible stories from people and to witness some of the reactions to them didn’t make me feel good. Everyone wants to feel seen, heard, and respected and when we’re not, it’s painful.
I also notice people in power are pissed too. Again, one only has to look at Kavanaugh’s testimony to see that. He didn’t show up to the hearing contrite. He showed up belligerent, denying all accusations. The New Yorker ran an opinion piece declaring the Ford-Kavanaugh hearing will be remembered as a “grotesque display of patriarchal resentment.”
We are one big family. Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash
These are the times we’re living in. From an astrological perspective, there’s a whole lot of “othering” going on, as in separating from others, erecting boundaries, and dehumanizing people. Astrology is not causal, it’s instead like a map, and in this instance, we as a society are demonstrating the disintegrated version of the Saturn:Pluto transit. Othering is not limited to sexism, its showing up everywhere. It shows up in the treatment of people of color, in immigrants, of the LGBTQIA community. Anyone who doesn’t fall into the majority is subjected to “othering.” What’s interesting for me to notice though is even those who are privileged and in the majority are not immune to being “othered.” I read an exchange on facebook where a white man posted something he thought was supportive of the #metoo movement and a woman blasted him for it because she thought otherwise. She said instead his post played into patriarchy, that he is part of the problem, that he’s another privileged white dude perpetuating the disempowerment of women.
I get where people are coming from and at the same time I’m reminded of a quote someone shared on facebook that struck me as relevant for the times we’re living in: “If you don’t heal what hurt you, you’ll bleed all over the person who didn’t cut you.” Yep. Lots of bleeding right now. Lots of hurt people walking around. We are all taking out our pain on each other.
What is the solution here? The solution I think is three-fold: One, to heal what hurt us, whatever that looks like. Two, I think it’s important to practice empathy, to understand the perspective of all our siblings. We don’t all have the same experiences, but we all have the same needs. There is more that binds us than divides us. Lastly, as philosopher P.R. Sarkar writes in his book, The Liberation of Intellect: Neohumanism, “You will have to carry the collectivity with you, because the collectivity is yours. The collectivity is not outside you – your future is inseparably connected with the collective fortune. You must take the entire collectivity with you and move toward the sweetest radiance of the new crimson dawn, beyond the veil of the darkest night.”
We are a collective, moving together. We are a universal family sharing the resources of this planet. We are like a garden filled with numerous flowers, but ultimately all a part of the same garden. Like flowers, on the surface we have different petals, different leaves. Some of us require more water and some of us require less, but we are all flowers. We all require care and attention and I truly believe we can make it so.
I dream of a world where we all work together to take care of each other. A world where we seek to understand our kith and kin. A world where we remember we have more in common than we might believe. A world where we realize there is no “other,” only us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I feel vulnerable writing this post because the issue is alive in me. I haven’t moved past it. I can’t tie it up in a neat bow. I’m sharing though because this is the only topic that came to mind to write about, and also I know there are other people who feel the way I do. I’m hopeful my experience will help.
I am deeply unsettled by the murder of Nia Wilson from a few weeks ago. It speaks to one of my worst fears – a random act of violence. (I should mention here police don’t know for sure it was random. It could have been racially motivated but the murderer didn’t say one word to her or her sisters before attacking. Also, women of color experience higher rates of this kind of violence because the consequences are lower.) As for me, instead of viewing strangers as friends I haven’t met yet, I view strangers as people who mean me harm. In public I am constantly on guard. And considering Nia was murdered while at a BART station that I frequent, I’m more fearful than usual.
A sweet picture that I hope conveys my sentiments. Photo by Ravi Roshan on Unsplash
My therapist suggested I acknowledge the fear and remind myself what I can control. I’m in control of my breath, of whether I eat or not. I’m in control of how clean I am, etc. It helps me to think about those things. It also helps to remind myself my perspective is skewed.
This weekend I attended the San Francisco Aerial Arts festival, which was glorious. I went by myself and rode public transportation all the way there and back. Doing so I realized the vast majority of people don’t care about me one way or another. The vast majority are neutral. If I don’t bother them, they won’t bother me. Also at the performance, the sash from my trench coat trailed to the ground and a woman tapped me on the back to tell me so. She demonstrated to me while the vast majority of people are neutral, the remainder of people are good. They want to help. They care about complete strangers and will tell you if you drop something. And then a small minority of people wish me harm. Often it’s not personal and I could easily be swapped out for someone else.
Am I still reeling from the random act of violence? Yes I am. Do I still want to barricade myself in my apartment? Yes I do. And I have to reconcile those feelings with another truth: The world is delightful. People dance on the side of buildings. People sing so well they move me to tears. People paint something that engrosses me for hours. The world is wonderful and terrible. It’s beautiful and hideous. I wish that wasn’t so but it is. All that I can do is what anyone can do, which is continuing to be a good person. To serve others where I can, to stand up for injustice, to sow love instead of hatred, and do my part to leave the world better than when I entered it.
I dream of a world where we remember the world is more good than it is bad. A world where we realize most people are neutral, and those that aren’t are more likely good people than people who want to hurt us. A world where we help others according to our capacity.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I’ve contemplated the internalization of “-isms” such as racism, sexism, and classism. These are the ways that we’ve accepted our inferior or superior status. For me, I’ve realized how much the way I view writing and reading is tied to patriarchy. And maybe intellectualism. I like women’s fiction, also called chick lit. Think Bridget Jones’s Diary or Confessions of a Shopaholic. Those aren’t my favorite books, but I mention them because Hollywood turned them into movies so they’re more well-known.
I feel a sense of shame mentioning chick lit is my favorite genre because it’s looked down upon. It’s not serious or somehow “worthy.” In Joanna Russ’ book How to Suppress Women’s Writing, she mentions the various ways women are discouraged from writing. It’s assumed women didn’t write the things they did, or they channeled something outside of themselves, or they are judged more harshly for writing about the same things as men. In other cases, women are told they shouldn’t have written the things they wrote. There’s a notion certain subjects are more acceptable and worthy of acclaim than others, and wouldn’t you know it, those topics are most often addressed by men.
Maybe my taste is influenced by an “ism.” Photo by Rey Seven on Unsplash.
Love stories by women and for women are disparaged. I’ve internalized that viewpoint so much that a part of me doesn’t want to tell you I’m writing a love story because it’s not serious enough. It’s no Moby Dick, it’s not the next Great American Novel, and a part of me worries what other people will think of me. I’m not looking for reassurance here, I mention all this to demonstrate how subtle “-isms” are. Until I read Russ’ book, it didn’t occur to me that perhaps my perspective on women’s writing, including my own, was skewed by patriarchy and sexism. I didn’t question why working on my book felt a bit like a furtive teenager stealing liquor from her parents’ stash.
My spiritual teacher says, “In the existential sphere there cannot be any sort of complex, and our social order should be such that there remains no room for any complex. We have to make such a social order and we have to make it immediately without any loss of time.”
By complex he means inferiority complex, superiority complex, or fear complex. To paraphrase, he says we are all divine children of God, no one lesser, and no one greater. I’m not doing myself any favors by thinking the things I’m writing about are drivel because they primarily interest women. It’s more helpful for me to address not only the obvious forms of “-isms,” but also the subtler, concealed ones as well. Only then can we create a world we wish to see.
I dream of a world where we examine the ways we’re contributing to “-isms” internally. A world where we question why we think certain things are true. A world where we recognize and work toward the notion no one is better or worse than any one else.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.