*shhhh*

Reflecting on some things earlier, I came to rest on power as addiction once again. I could probably go on forever about that, but it changes nothing. I’m back at the site of my most recent discontents again this morning, and sadly accept that most things here will never change. Although, maybe I’m wrong. I accept the fact that I could be wrong. That’s progress, at least for m.

Someone said a thing in a meeting a while ago that I have never forgotten – he said, “I tell my family that I am willing to die for them, but as person recovering from addiction, I must ask myself if I am willing to live for them.” That becomes a more pertinent question. I would die to effect change, to make things better for the world at large, for myself, but am I willing to live in that change. If the solution was to dismantle every thing I believe to be correct, every single thing I like, would I be willing to live in that new world if it made things better for others? Would I be willing to give up my comfort if it set things on a better path for others? I have to admit that I’m really not sure. That makes me rather sad. I would like to believe that what makes me comfortable and what I believe is the right side of things is correct for everyone else. I would like to believe that what makes me comfortable is of no harm to anyone else, but maybe I’m wrong.

I was at the dreaded Forum session again this morning, and specifically went to double-check the information they were communicating about voting in the upcoming primary. Most of it was technically correct, but there were resources they did not mention, such as voter guides in various places and candidate endorsements that are available on external sites. It was very milquetoast, and I interjected several times. Of course, I was cautioned to shush, because, well that’s just not how we do things. Bleh. I have been in that room an untold number of times when people have shouted out and over others, and they have never been turned to with a finger on the lips and cautioned to shush. Bleh, bleh, and bleh.

Am I willing to live in discomfort if that’s what it takes? Am I willing to live in oppression if that’s what it takes to free the rest of us? Will I rise up, a thousand times? Do I have anything left to give at this point? Being knocked down enough times, you don’t want to get up. But I suppose I do, every time, because truthfully what else is there to do? When you’ve been thrown under the bus repeatedly, you can lie there and watch the undercarriage roll over you again and again, but after a while that simply becomes monotonous. I don’t enjoy monotonous. It’s not a ritual that I find productive on any level.

So, to be clear, I’m not going to shush. I’m not going to speak quietly unless it is something very personal that deserves sensitivity. If it’s about liberation, or justice, I’m not going to be quiet just to make someone else comfortable. A friend was telling me earlier that she felt lost, and it caused me to think about how it feels to be lost. Sometimes we have to find each other until we can find ourselves. When one of us is lost, we have to call out the missing one’s name and sound the alarm one of us is in trouble. Elephants do that, trumpeting loudly to summon the rest of the herd when one member is in distress. So, don’t shush me, or any one – we may be calling our lost ones home.