It took about 24 hours but I finally cried today. I was at the laundry mat earlier and I kept wondering why I was so agitated. I had thoughts about telling someone to fuck off when they didn’t even say anything to me. I guess it started in the car on the way home. I decided to play some music and as I listened, that’s when the tears started to flow.
“Is this all I’m worth?”
If you ask the 14-year-old me, that’s what’s she’s wondering today. Am I supposed to serve men, Christian men? Am I supposed to serve the unborn? Shouldn’t personhood be granted once one is born? Not part of its mother’s body anymore? When is a woman autonomous? When does she get her personhood? When she’s done being of service to other humans?
Shouldn’t freedom of religion also mean freedom from religion? My ancestors came to America to escape the Anglican church, to not only be free to practice their religion (Quakerism), but to be free of the King’s religion. I should be free of Alito’s religion. Whatever he calls it. I don’t think it’s Christianity. He may be a Davidian, or a Lavitican, but I don’t think he’s a Christian. Christians aspire to be Christ-like. Give Christianity back to the Christians and get the twisted religious shit you’re into out of here.
I can’t control society, I can only contribute to it, and if I think that’s not enough then I think I’m not enough. If I believe I can control it, if I exert that force and convince myself and others I have it, I no longer live in a free society. I no longer have the peace and serenity that comes from trusting the natural world or trusting in a higher power. These people who are trying to control society, who have gone to extremes to fulfill their righteous indignation, are not free people . They cannot let go now. They’re trapped. They have lost their freedom, and so has society. Now they need to remain ‘in control’, and depending on the intensity of their righteousness, they will go to great lengths to do so.
So how do I contribute? How do I believe that what I have to offer matters? That it has power?
I have a great quote that hangs in my office: “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive” -Dr. Howard Thurman.
I want to come alive!
What makes me come alive is living an inner-directed life. You know those moments when you get a great idea and you can’t wait to act on it? That’s how I feel about painting libraries. I don’t know where the idea came from, just that it came from inside me. It was like a eureka moment.
Another thing that makes me come alive is being in nature. I live in the city so I need to be intentional about it, but being in the natural world makes me come alive. Sometimes I’ll sit outside and listen to the birds, just notice them. Normally, they’re background noise, but when I really pay attention I realize there’s a whole world happening that flies below my normal radar. And you know what they’re not doing? Controlling each other. You know what they’re not doing? Scaring themselves over thoughts of deprivation and scarcity.
I think there are things that make me come alive in the moment, like music, or writing in my journal, and then there are things that make me come alive over time. Living a creative life makes me come alive. Not evvvvery time I create something, but over time, living a creative life, making it part of my daily routine, making it my career, makes me come alive. My art is my way of telling stories, of sharing, of taking the risk to connect with others. That makes me come alive.
It may not solve the issue of abortion, or do anything to ease the pain and fear of having an unwanted pregnancy, but it acknowledges the fact that my only real power in the world is the contribution I make. I do not want to express righteous anger. I do not want to make demands of people who are blinded by their pride and selfishness. I only want to believe in the power of my contribution, and I want that contribution to be pacifism, love, appreciation, acceptance, peace, and joy.
To my 14-year-old self I say: this is not all you’re worth. You are worth the freedom of choice, the freedom to come alive. You are worth freedom from religion and the control of others. I want to get along, and there are many agreements I will make to do so, but I will not make myself subordinate. I will not play the game of control and dominance, and I will not be shamed by your magical thinking about the unborn.