Read More“If people don't vote, everything stays the same. You can protest until the sky turns yellow or the moon turns blue, and it's not going to change anything if you don't vote.”
Delores Huerta
Latina American labor leader and civil rights activist
Read MoreConditioned against healing the systems oppressing us, I sit here, too. The spice hits my tongue. I love its hotness, the dare of trying more on the next taco.
Unwavering in my tiredness, delight, anger, angst. The bigness of feelings, embraced. Familiarity with oppression is normalized, to where I am chastised for any attempt to bring relief to mi gente by asking those in power to remove their heavy feet off our necks. But we keep asking, demanding, resisting, and flying.
Read MoreLike Edmund, we ate the Turkish delight offered by the system, relying on their forms, processes, hoping thier procedural laws built to oppress us would do something other. Our stories cemented in stones, the scars on our skin, un-dead, and un-done.
I share this quote from Ignacio, “"The homeostatic vision leads us to distrust everything that is change and disequalibrium, to think badly of all that represents rupture, conflict and crisis. From this perspective, it becomes hard, more or less implicitly, for the disequilibrium inherent in social struggle not to be interpreted as a form of personal disorder (do we not speak of people who have 'lost their balance'?) and for the conflicts generated by overthrowing the social order not to be considered as pathological."
Read MorePlease take me, amor.
We dancing to bone rhyms.
Somos los mismos - lots of spice
It’s dark, now. We watch one another,
Breathe, make up, argue, laugh
pass through borders
Cultures argue for which lives count mas
You, my love,
Mi amor, I’ll be here
I’m sorry I let you down sometimes,
My country and place take dirty shots at your beautiful face.
Perdoname mi amor y yo
Tambien te perdono porque– tu eres el hombre que quiero.
You are perfecto for me because you aren’t perfect.
Mil gracias amor.
Your only,
Daniela
Read MoreRead MoreNot Buffalo, or Irvine, Uvalde, or Jayland Walker’s story will shock us enough to change. The paddles which electrify our hearts, aren’t built for centuries of hardened callouses.
A painful peeling must begin to dig at the crust which keeps us from feeling the pain of our scars and our perpetration of violence. May we find pause, this July 4th – to create intentional anti-racist communities which feel and see and hear.
May we remember Stonechild Chiefstick.
Because, his life matters.
Jesus, born into a culture, of an other-ed group, under the tyranny of empire, answered the call of those other-ed groups. Ernest Gray states, “He champions their cause. He’s been doing it for all time.”
Read MoreWhy would DEI interventions be any different? Healing comes through an integrated experience of multiple emotions, body sensations, combined with imagination ignited on a cellular level – including our hearts, arms, fingers, thighs, spirits, guts, and yes, the prefrontal cortex thinking/processing brain.
Read MoreIt has been a year of recognizing deep systemic injustice, longing for change and questioning, “Who are we to be with one another? How are we to be with one another?” Advent is about waiting, gestational waiting. Who are your role models for expectant waiting to birth something long overdue?
This Advent season, perhaps it’s time to sing a new song? Let it begin with me.
Read MoreIn this Advent season, I’m continuing to name my longing, inviting Jesus to come and watching for Him. Maybe He’ll arrive like a Christmas carol carried on the wind, a sweet scent in the air, or a star in the East. However He comes, I’ll be waiting and watching.
Read MoreThe thought of Christmas brings me both joy and grief. Every. Single. Year. And every single year I pull out Christmas music and gravitate to “Oh Holy Night” by Mariah Carey. As a teenager, I discovered her Christmas album and had one of those ancient cassette tapes - connected to a wire - connected to my CD player. Am I even remembering that right? It was a sort-of-conversion device to play compact discs in my car. (That’s a clue to just how old I am.)
Read MoreAs I sit here trying to let my flame of joy live, I wonder about this. My rational brain and therapist in me say, “Yes, we hold the tensions of this world, we hold our various emotions and experiences together.” But my body and my heart are skeptical, possibly even scared, unsure if it’s safe. Safe for what you may ask? Safe to believe God is all who She says She is and I am who She says I am. Safe to be in my body as I feel the goodness of God and not fear disappointment, death, and it ending. Safe to take up space. Safe to believe that it’s okay to find rest and relief in my joy.
Read MoreMary, can you beckon us back to Advent in its’ truest form?
This year needs more than a forest of lights draped over stiff buildings.
It needs more than cheerful Christmas melodies.
Read MoreEven the restful aroma of a plucked tree’s pine and mint
Cannot swallow such vast lament,
It’s despair that hangs in the air.
And there was evening and morning the first day. Who am I to say
That a God who bends down low
Who drinks deep,
deep of my sorrow
Never hoped for a better tomorrow?
Read MoreAs we look back on the most memorable moments in our lives, we look back with joy and celebration. We try to recall the things that make us feel good and forgot the things that don’t. During this Advent season, what do you think it would be like if you intentionally focused on the less than pleasant memories in your past to gain new insight about yourself?
Read MoreThe dark days of winter stretch from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m. Cloudy skies force the sun to take cover. I feel alone. Slow home-school mornings compete with news feeds of election season anxiety, and air thick with virus. Although I see the faces of four eager-to-please children, I know the weight of their isolation in my chest.
Jesus, I declare, “Come.”
Read MorePerhaps this Thursday, we can all sit, mourn, and honor the peoples who cultivated the earth under our feet, who cared for the animals, and one another. Perhaps as illness rampages across the country we will finally begin to comprehend in the tiniest way how a virus can change the way we work, live, eat, and gather. Perhaps we begin to repent. Perhaps we begin to know gratitude in our repentance.
Read MoreRead Moreibrancy and beauty will come around again.
Did you know, Revelation 5:8 paints a celestial picture of the prayers of the saints as the incense filling golden bowls, brought before the Lamb? Our prayers are not forgotten.
Read MoreHope is,
Hope is a spark.
Shooting out from my fingers,
Pow, pow, pow!
Hitting the powder on the ground,
Blasting like fireworks to the dark.
It screams,
I (boom) am (crash) here (pow).
