As I sit here, holding the sobs that come in spurts, Shaking everything ..I held as ..”Normal” inside me
The waves of heat ..flooding my rational mind, and burning ..reason and rationality.
I feel something ..rising in my stomach..in my chest ….in my throat. A kind of recognition…
I find this pain more than just … empathy. It’s the pain of an intimate nature…ancient …sitting in the cells of my body..
Have their dreams died?? Or have our nightmares Begun??…..
And…
As they hurt ..so do I – As they feel the white hot anger ..so do I – As they despair.. so do I – As they feel betrayed … so do I – As they feel this yearning for home.. so do I
And I know I am not the only one ..who is is crying ..and screaming …silent screams…. Grief is never Individual. It is a collecting phenomena . So..I wonder …
What is the Story behind the story – inside which – we, as a collective are Sensing feeling seeing ..this Pain. This Story of – “Migrants”
Dictionary definition of a “Migrant” : Person who moves from one place to another, especially in order to find work or better living conditions.
Pause !!!!!
This definition, does it not apply to more that 75% of the world if not more??
I come from a missionary background.. and so yes my ancestors were also migrants… they moved from city to city to country… in search of “better” living conditions. In talking to a couple of friends this morning ..I realised that each of us, or our parents or their parents….moved.. and so by definition we are ”migrants” …
As the ancient memory that comes up…I also feel like the people who walked the desert for 40 days and nights to find their home..I feel at once like Jesus who is betrayed.. and Judas who betrayed one of his own.
But of course, we get to stay…its our right..or privilege.. or just plain luck ..or a function of time?? perhaps??
AND !!!
And in all this people, friends, are getting up..raising their heads….their hearts… their voice…in solidarity, in different ways..and I feel like I can smell… the oasis in this desert.
So yes.. this pain, while it creates despair beyond words..I am also seeing this as a “waking-up” of our self inflicted anaesthesia and collective autism towards …..Earth.
How can I own my own migrantness . The Jesus and Judas and the desert and go on my own pilgrimage…walk..barefeet…bare heart…bare soul.
How am I choosing to respond to this NOW…who do I BE ..what do I Do..??
I feel the palpable urgency of this question…
Because…
In the not too distant future – SHE is going to look us in the eye ..and ask
What did you do when you knew…???
~ Rhea