Oppression

Oppression
by Lyn Marinello

Oppression is a weighted chain, shackling many hands and feet;
seeking nothing in particular, but voracious; indiscreet.
This mighty beast is colorblind, without concern for age or gender.
It is heartless and relentless; an equal opportunity offender.
Doesn't matter your ethnicity. It could care less about your race.
Its sole and only purpose is to demean and to debase.
This monster's old as time and also reborn every day
in the hatred that we spew and in the ugliness we say.
It is not owned by any people. There's no claim laid by any caste.
No purpose in pointed fingers, there's too many travesties amassed.
We each become combatants in the crusade against this brute.
Our greatest failure in this conflict is that far too many remain mute.
We need not destroy cities, that disruption's unproductive.
It's just another facet of our anger, and equally obstructive.
The depths of our depression can corrode and can dissolve,
or we glean resilience and compassion and let it strengthen our resolve.
A wise and knowing man once said, "Only light can drive out dark,"
and if we truly want to do so, we must collectively embark.
We all have more in common than things that cause divergence,
and within our similarities there must be a re-emergence.
We're each skeleton, skin and blood. We're indifferent in that regard,
and every single one of us need to heal those who're scarred.
We scramble in this race of rats, overwhelmed and often mindless.
Take a moment; stop and breathe. Let's all try a little kindness.
The choice lies deep within us; in what we say and how we act.
A prism's just a shape til it's given opportunity to refract.
We cannot ask for pure inclusion while we pass judgement in distaste.
Oppression must be loved to death while our diversities are embraced.

I will be semi-off-grid for a bit, kids. If I am inspired, I may pop back on,

but I regrouping, recharging, reconnecting.

Please feel free to let me know what you think of the above poem.

I love hearing your opinions.

Have a great little bit and thanks for being you.

Feed

No one to credit,

but it is not mine.

I do hope you

are eating well.

Your mind

will always believe

everything you tell it.

Feed it faith.

Feed it truth.

Feed it love.

Light

From one Stacie Martin:

You think

you are walking

through darkness,

not realizing

you are the light

for those

walking beside you.

That's some good stuff.

Have a great day

and thank you for the light.

It was then ...

This might be a little long ... but worth it.

A very, very long time ago on one of our many vacations to Sanibel Island,

I found myself in a jewelry store. We normally didn't go into these establishments

as they were way too touristy or ridiculously over-priced. Yet ... here I was.

On the counter was a display of handmade bracelets, none of which were 

any colors I would ever choose, nor were they any style I'd normally buy,

and yet I grabbed this one that seemed to tug at my heart.

It was tan and brown with little white feet and the words,

"It was then that I carried you".

(If you don't know the poem, please look it up.)

For whatever reason, I had to have it and so I bought it.

A little while later, I started a job at Beall's ... on Senior day with coupons.

Let's just throw her into the pits of hell and see if she sticks with it.

My trainer was a waif of a woman, Chris.

She was patient and diligent and proficient and kind and faith-filled and sweet.

She helped me day after day and we quickly became very good friends.

She did such a good job training me that the store stole me away 

to the men's side registers to provide equal service over there.

We'd visit with each other before breaks or on the way to the restroom

or however we could - just to chat and hug and catch up.

One day she came and visited me in tears. Her husband was in the hospital.

There were many hugs. And every day we visited, there were more tears and hugs.

Then Chris was gone for a few days.

When she returned, again in tears, she let me know that her husband had passed.

She was devastated. She was inconsolable. He was her everything.

I knew nothing else to do, beyond the hugs, but to simply take that bracelet off

and give it to her. There were more tears.

As the days went by, she would come visit me, happily showing me that she

was always wearing that bracelet. She said she knew the poem well and that

she knew it was the truth and she need only look to her wrist to know that she

will never be alone.

A few months later, here came my buddy ... again in a pool of tears ... 

and a tiny plastic baggy. Within the baggy were a bazillion little brown and tan beads

and little white feet. It had snagged on something at her register and broken.

She was beside herself.

I let her know that I will be her beads and feet now. There were hugs and tears and 

eventually she went back to work.

As life does, I moved away and kept in touch via blogs and emails and cards and 

the occasional phone call.

She sent me a Christmas card this past year with some bad news in it. She was sick.

I cannot, regrettably, remember if I sat down and wrote her back or only thought of it.

I'm hoping that I did. I'm hoping that I told her how much of a treasure she was to me.

I'm hoping that I shared what a joy she was to befriend and hold close.

Yesterday, I was told of her passing.

She's no longer alone. Her footprints are again beside her husband's.

She is at peace and full and resting. 

I will miss our intermittent communications. I hope she knows she was

just as much my beads and feet as I may have been hers.

I believe that when God cannot carry us, He sends people, like Chris, 

to carry us through. We are each keepers of one another.

I love you and miss you Chris. Thank you for everything.

When given the opportunity ... carry someone else.

In my jar

Beautiful words by Sangreeta Rana:

In my jar today.

Hope 

for the world.

Positivity

for humanity.

Love

for life.

Gratitude

for everything

that's good

in the world.

Yes, please.

Look

Don't have an author to credit,
but really wanted to share:

If what's ahead

scares you;

and

what's behind

has hurt you ...

look up!

Watts up?

One Mr. Alan Watts
created this little tidbit!
I think I'm loving it ...

By going

out of your mind,

you come

to your senses.

Let it be for a minute.

It's soooo good.