Labels
I was just recently referred to as a “Fluffy Bunny.” To those that even know me just a little, that moniker seems ill placed. But the reason it happened is because of a further mislabeling that happens all the time.
Most folks assume that I am a liberal.
And no Senator McCarthy, I am not now nor have I ever been a liberal.
So this person assumed that because I signed on to an open letter calling for diplomacy with Iran instead of a military response, he assumed incorrectly that only a liberal would make that assessment.
Part of the problem lies in the classic American ignorance of class, the political spectrum and our own (and everyone else’s) history.
We Americans have been fed a bunch of malarkey about our political system. That we are or have ever been a two-party system, that left and right denote the Democrats and Republicans respectively and that there is such a thing as the mythical middle class.
We have always had more than two parties, both the Democrats and the Republicans are on the right and what we are facing is just short of class warfare – and BTW, the bourgeois coalition is winning at the moment.
So for the record, I have no friggin idea what to call myself. Maybe I am an anarcho-socialist-ecofeminist-universalist-poet-saboteur or something equivalent. But in whatever guise I adopt, I hardly ever am “fluffy” and even on good days I am pretty sure I cannot hop.
Posted in
- katrina's blog
- Add new comment
- 245 reads
This sounds like something I need to do. I hope that I can work it out.
Connect DC is TEN?? Wow. Time flies.
Did I ever mention to you that I think the impact that working had on me was to connect me to DC? I'm so hooked in here ... just call me "swamp thang."
Speaking of which ... isn't it margarita weather? Let's get together.
Much love,
Reya
p.s. So cool to see my drawing again! Thank you for publishing!
"Such beautiful dreaming! Such clear work. You sound so much in-focus just now.
I honor this work and delight in reading your words ... and I'm moved to participate in the dreaming-work, perhaps more than is appropriate.
I think I'll take the risk, and I hope you'll tell me if you'd rather I not do it again.
In the dream group I used to work with, we would read one of our dreams aloud and then go around the room, each one beginning their remarks with "If this were my dream..." and then sharing whatever the pieces seemed to illuminate for them. And then the next person might see something quite different in the same images, the same words.
In that sense, if this were my dream just now, in my dream I am surrounded by water -- my life is filled with emotion, covering and drowning everything else, so that all I can see is my feelings.
The gathering of song and all these incredible people -- my life, friendships, the harmony we make together. And in my dream, I am beginning to see myself moving on. Does this mean a change of geography? a change of emphasis? in my life this minute this could be about gradually shifting some of the focus of my everyday spiritual community from the UUs to the Yoga studio, or it could be something quite different. If I had this dream last week sometime, it would look like the impending end of an important relationship.
And in all of those possibilities, I am so present to the sadness with which I gather up what is mine to take with me, make my farewells, and lose my ability to remember the words. In all of these possibilities, even as I'm leaving I'm rethinking the choice to leave ... do I really have to? why?
In my dream, I look for my car because I want to escape ... and I can't find my car because there's no way out. As I'm searching the beautiful dark man in the hotel uniform helps me -- the hotel uniform telling me that wherever I am is only a way station, his beauty telling me that I can enjoy and appreciate his help, his darkness telling me that sometimes I need to look closely to see what is important (other times everything is well-lighted).
I keep looking for the way out even as the hotel man would make me welcome, and eventually the welcome is withdrawn as he leaves. And then I am lost and wandering, trying to find my way home -- having ignored help and support, I find I can't find the way alone after all.
And now that my dream has ended, I see there is much here that I can use in my waking life, too. So thank you for dreaming this dream, thanks for sharing it, thanks for letting me dream it, too.
Many blessings, Dear One"
"I sit staring out the window, not lost in thought, but feeling completely and totally blank inside." I have been sitting in a similar space.
Your post reminds me to trust and to listen for the song.