It’s the late-night blogs, written when my household is asleep, that can give you insight into my motivations, my values, and how my mind works. They’re not generally the well thought out entries, the ones that get researched and planned. No, these posts are off the cuff, welling up from the darkness, still oozing the stuff of my shadows. It’s almost like when one of our critters gets out inadvertently, and I have to decide if I need to give dedicated chase right away, or if I can let them frolic in the grass for a bit while I fold laundry.

Several of my colleagues that I respect quite dearly are activists of the Heart. When I look at them with my Truthspeaker mantle on, I detect no bullshit. They are clear and honest in their attempts to right wrongs, to raise awareness, to offer us a different path, one that leads away from the status quo and its broken system. I read their blogs, I try to digest what the bring to the table, and to share it outward when I can. Some of their information, were I to share it, might be taken for cultural appropriation, and I side step that as best I can.

I am also a bit of a data junkie. My Twitter feed is weighted heavily towards news and information, a relic from my short stint of trying to work with the Occupy movement. I have collected people who speak the truth on the ground, reasonably unbiased, just trying to get the information out, whether it’s in Oakland or Afghanistan or Tehran or India. Raw, uncensored information that takes history from the victors and gives it back to We The People.

I have to walk away periodically, let the Twitter feed go fallow. There’s so much out there, going on in the world, and it’s disheartening. If I stayed in it all the time, I would be a useless stress monkey. So I step back from time to time and put my own oxygen mask on first.

My mandate, my driving force, is helping others, usually through empowerment. I have to be okay enough to do that. I have to recharge my batteries. Sometimes I even have to avoid a news stream.

I’m doing that tonight. In any conflict, a person will emerge who is just trying to let the world know what it’s like for the average citizen in their area. When I’m in a good space, I treasure those feeds. Those citizen journalists can be so very important. I came across such a treasure trove tweeting from Jerusalem about the current Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I read maybe 10 tweets and I had to put it aside because I was starting to cry. I so very much want something else for them. I want both sides to feel less backed into a corner, because they’re all acting like vicious animals right now. They are both sides on ground that is sacred to them, and they are tearing each other apart.

Back here at home, women feel under attack. A dear friend is being slut-shamed for being raped. News has come out that the uncomfortable (at best) annual pelvic exam is useless. The Supreme Court has rulled in favor of corporations and against compassionate care of humans. I see so many people trying to raise awareness in their communities about rape culture. It just doesn’t feel safe to be a woman right now.

Global warming is coming to a head. I saw today a news story about an island nation that has had to buy land thousands of miles from their home, so that they have somewhere to move to.

There are people, so many people in this country who suffer institutional racism every day, whose cultures exhibit all the signs of deep and long term trauma, and those in power keep gaslighting them, telling them that the racism problem has been solved.

My darkness sees all of this and wants to tell me there’s no point. I’m fightling a losing battle. I should just chuck it all in and stop trying to make a difference. But that’s a bad road for me, on that leads to despair and uselessness.

There’s only so much I can do, of course. My strengths are teaching & empowerment. Maybe I’ll teach a workshop on processing current events from a spiritual point of view…