I have a nasty. fucking. temper. And it's rearing its head.
If I've never said it: I, too, am a survivor of sexual assault.
I live in a safe place, with loving people, some of whom voted for Trump. I'm a stone in coarse-grade sandpaper. But Donald Trump doesn't live in my house. My unresolved sorrows do.
While I will work toward compassion for my friends and family who voted for Donald Trump, I will not respect the decision they made to vote someone into office who attempts to normalize the rape-culture-boys-will-be-boys patriarchy, just to start. I will not and cannot respect that decision. I'm searching my heart for the next thing.
Ekabhumi Charles Ellik, upon receiving so many accolades from his Shakti Coloring Book told Yoga Journal that part of his elation on the publication of a book of images of wild goddesses in the yoga world is that it shows us that so-called "enlightenment" looks like more than what we perceive it to be in the media:
“The magazine about Yoga with the largest circulation in the world, Yoga Journal,
just did a full-page spread endorsing the Shakti Coloring Book.
WOW! This is especially exciting for me, because it's an opportunity to introduce
sacred art as an intrinsic part of Yogic practice to a HUGE number of people who may
think it's only about stretching and feeling calm.
Though many of the readers may have some familiarity with a few of the goddesses,
my hope is to expand folks' idea of what an enlightened being can look like (not just
skinny and limber) and act like (not just gentle and calm)."
This election has triggered much for me as the next person, of that I have no doubt. And my response? I'm going to dig in. I'm going to figure out how to engage my own inner darkness and dig and dig deep to become a better mother and a better wife and more forgiving of the irony that 15 years of yoga practice has made me MORE ferocious, and LESS complacent. And I have two toddlers who need a sweet and steady mama. I'm not silent. I'm preparing.
Right now I'm dealing with the cognitive dissonance of mourning the death of my former self, and birthing into motherhood; of living with people who do not have the same spiritual beliefs that I do; and of owning up to capitalistic debt in the name of spiritual advancement. While I wish dearly I could be there in person, you won't see my face at the Standing Rock protests, and you likely won't see much from me on Facebook. It's not because I have become complacent. It's because I'm working on the microcosm. I'm here. With boys on my left side and boys on my right side...
I need a big loan
From the Girl Zone
Building. tumbling down.