To Source every time
It requires commitment and discipline, to return to Source every time.
To go to the seed of the seed and the root of the root.
If we did this, we would know that there is no one who professes purity of bloodline or skin tone, as held by the white supremacists. We are all mutts. Mingled.
We would honour the land and its abundance. It has cared for us, and not the other way around. It was here at the beginning and shall be there when we are gone.
We would know that things like money, accounting, and corporate law are human constructs, fictions, and as such, able to be returned to the story from which they arose.
We would accept the mysteries. The song that sings eternal defying the microscopic lens. One only needs to look at the heavens to know infinity and the unexplainable.
If we went back to Source, when we speak, we would honour the sacred in words, in sound. Sound is the frequency of life.
By returning to Source, and seeking to understand, we confront the horrors of humanity against humanity and life. Painful, essential work to reconcile the shadow spine of progress, success and privilege. So many of us need to look our violent history in the eye and see it full. Once we have done this, we need to name the violence we continue to inflict on others, and life itself.
Or the real-time violence we watch on screens. Desensitised. Or so distracted by the petty and real struggles of living in the late stages of neoliberal capitalism. Afraid of the hate that comes when we stand for justice, human rights and dignity. Seduced by the masters of manipulation. In a state of denial as self-protection from the immensity of our cruelty. Refusing to look because when we look and see, our way of life is threatened. Or simply caught in helplessness.
I read this poem this morning, which is an example of returning to Source. The truth is all around us. But first, we must look, ask, and see.
This morning I learned
the English word gauze,
(finely woven medical cloth)
comes from the Arabic word Ghazza.
because Gazans have been skilled weavers for centuries.
I wondered then
how many of our wounds
have been dressed
because of them
and how many of theirs
have been left open
because of us.
Em Berry/ @skinhungry
Photo Taken March 25th 2024
