Reparations, and other ways of working toward Justice, Peace, and Salvation

 

My Quaker Friends and I are beginning to think reparations, and finding ways to give back.  This does not have to do with guilt, but the fact of owning and earning things because they were taken from Native Americans and African Americans who did not have the same access to owner-ship and earning-ship that I have had.  In other words, quite literally, this is not mine, and if nothing more, it should be at least shared. 

For me it's a spiritual quest just to understand.  For example, I've been thinking of giving my house and its land back to the Lenni Lenape who live in this area, but I realize that I invested my money here so I could sell the house and use the money to move in to an "old folks' home."  I've actually been looking at them.  A residence costs the full value of my house up front, and I will have it to pay if I sell my house.  But should I have this option from stolen land?  Are there other ways of growing old and being cared for when a person (me) doesn't have children?  My Mom is still in her house at age 97, but my brother lives nearby.

You get the train of thought.  It's eye-opening to think of how I might/could live differently.  I've been actively contributing to African-American people in need, as well,  because  I can.  I don't have much, but what I have to spare will be better used by others.  I do not think of the money once it is out of my hands.  And few know about this activity of mine.  (Well, any readers here now know, but I think I only have three readers.)

What I discovered today is that everything I learn has a foundation in things I once knew and had forgotten.  Let me use "land-back" as an example.  I enjoyed 40 acres of woodland between the ages of 7 and 15, right outside my Grandmother's house.  I keep returning to trees as friends, and trees populate my poems.  Before I went to Graduate School in California, I was part of the Women's Encampment for a Future of Peace and Justice in Romulus, NY, near Lake Seneca, where we said no to the military industrial complex and nuclear bombs.  After Grad School, I was right back in the same area.  The Cayuga Nation land-claim lawsuit was heating up while I was teaching right there at Wells College in Aurora, NY.  I heard some people I worked with and created theatre with saying that if they were asked to leave their homes, they would sit on their porches with rifles.  I've heard since that the lawsuit was won, then lost.  I don't know where it is now.  Have any of these people asked the Cayuga Nation what it wants?

I am donating money to support Water Watchers trying to stop petroleum pipelines from destroying the crops and water of Indigenous land.  Donating to those who help elders survive through long winters by providing food and healing herbs and protein.  Showing up for Black Lives Matter whenever I can, and continuing to support Black efforts for justice and for healing in the face of prison systems and white body supremacy.  Thinking about how to live, now that I am retired on both pension and social security.  Examining how to help pass legislation that would help all people have homes, food, water, and healthcare.

Thinking about what's next. The life of our planet may be waning, but we'll all have more chance of survival if Indigenous and Black and Brown and women's and children's intelligences are finally in the mix.

There are friends, family, cultures we each know, and then there are those strange to each other.  But as Valerie Kaur says from her source in Sikh wisdom, there is no stranger, only those who do not yet know each other.  The work now is to get close enough to know and unite and move on to Just and Peaceful Days (Beloved community) in the many projects of healing, repairing, reparation-ing--you know--all of it.

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Helen Sedgwick: Editing as the Creative Process

Helen Sedgwick is the best teacher I have ever had! After watching this, I know why I didn't finish writing my novel. I'll let the panic subside--after 11 years, why panic? I never finished the first draft!! I've refined the first 160 pages over and over again without knowing the end. I'll slow down to enjoy. If it feels like work and not pleasure, I'll work on something else for a while. Love you, Helen! Thank you for reminding me that we are artists creating art.

Helen Sedgwick: 

Editing as the Creative Process

Streamed live on Oct 1, 2021, at:

Wigtown Book Festival 

(Copy from You-tube)

"The idea of editing is enough to fill some writers with dread – but Helen Sedgwick wants to change all that. As part of our series of events for writers, in this online seminar Helen will talk about the interplay between writing and editing in her own creative work, and how editing is an essential part of the creative development of her novels. Covering the different types of editing there are and looking at how the editing process feeds into structure, plot, character development and storytelling, she will dispel the common fear of edits and show how editing can be exciting, creative, and even liberating. With examples from her most recent novel, Where the Missing Gather, and her own experience as both author and literary editor, she will give you a fresh look at the process of editing your own work as the craft at the heart of creative writing. "About the author: Helen Sedgwick is the author of The Comet Seekers and The Growing Season, which was shortlisted for the Saltire Society Fiction Book of the Year in 2018. The opener to her Burrowhead Mysteries crime trilogy, When the Dead Come Calling, was published in 2020, followed by Where the Missing Gather in 2021. She has an MLitt in Creative Writing from Glasgow University and has won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award. She is the 2021 Dr Gavin Wallace Fellow. Before she became an author, she was a research physicist with a PhD in Physics from Edinburgh University. She lives in the Scottish Highlands."

Remember

I want to remember that I changed the focus of this blog today.  It was "Susan, continued . . ." and in many ways it still is.  But I am decentering self, finally.  It is not just a record of me "attempting to capture the words I breathe."  It is listening, taking, giving, growing, and changing.  I hope I will write more and less self-consciously in this new decade.

Also:

Yesterday, President Biden brought all troops home from Afghanistan, leaving a mess of military trash and death.  Maybe this exit will cause change.  It will if we dedicate ourselves to full employment in environmental rescue and maintenance.  I hope our military forces and most recent immigrants become climate warriors.  That is the way to full employment.

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Living for Change, for Beloved Community

 Grace Lee Boggs (1915-2015)

I've been slowly reading Grace Lee Boggs' autobiography, LIVING FOR CHANGE, in which she takes care to trace the evolution of revolutionary thought that she and her husband Jimmy Boggs took part in, that took them and their Black comrades beyond what Marx had written to see the role of individual transformation in societal transformation. What a clear picture she provides of the time it takes for thought to evolve--even the difficulty of taking time to think--and how ideology joins with action to provide room for change. Gosh. And I am most impressed about how education takes center stage for adults as well as for children. About public schools, she writes:

"Instead of seeing our schools as institutions to advance individual careers, I argued, we must start turning them into places to develop our children into responsible citizens—by involving them in community-building activities, such as planting community gardens, preparing school and community meals, building playgrounds, cleaning up our rivers and neighborhoods. In this process our children will be learning through practice — which has always been the best way to learn. While they are working and absorbing naturally and normally the values of social responsibility and cooperation, they will also be stimulated to learn the skills and acquire the information that are necessary to solve real problems" (175).

I agree, I agree! Everyone can be a leader, problem solver, change agent--and many can be articulate speakers and listeners. Start where we live.

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Dear God and Dear Earth (Weaving for Spiritual Nurture Retreat 2020-2021)

From my Art Journal 2021

Dear God, dear Earth who share and show us creation:

Do you see your creation in me?  How do I show you physically, mentally, and other ways?

Do I see you when I look up and down and within, even when I don’t remind myself you’re there?

Let me always have my radio tuned to your station in the day, the night and the ocean—so many colors surround me!

And if I don’t know you as I experience you, let me recognize you later, reflecting on my experience—a moment recalled in tranquility like a poem.

Call me eccentric.  Call me mystic.  Call me Susan, or even “Hey, you!”  

I am not everything all the time.

In retirement at age 69, I let go of forces that have oppressed me, that seemed to demand command from me.  Now I try to embrace humility and plainness.  I am privileged to have earned a retirement, and try to use it well in learning, laughing and serving.  I find myself drawn to other senior citizens.  I wish everyone had this time to wind down when they have a good 30 more years to live.

I do not know if my life will be a pattern.  I can’t focus on that now.  I won’t stop meeting that of God in others in order to write a book of myself. I would like to know myself better, but not in an all-consuming project.

There are so many stories to hear!  And so many ways to stop supporting war, oppression, and exclusivity.  As I come to recognize white supremacy, I reject it and cringe at all the work I have to do to climb away from it.  None of the ways out provide an easy climb.

As Parker Palmer says, “Our complicity in world making is a source of awesome and sometimes painful responsibility – and a source of profound hope for change.”  I have entered the labyrinth of the journey toward wholeness, and I am not alone.

If I clear the path, others may breathe too.  I may find myself in danger.  I would give up everything if that would help BIPOC breathe.  Oh, my friends.  Let me be as willing to be in danger for this truth as early friends were willing to suffer cruelty and death for their beliefs. 

Let me be present to assist others in danger.  I have been somewhere else.  Working.  Playing.  Watching silently when people are sentenced to prison unjustly.  I will myself to observe, to listen, and to speak instead, no matter how uncomfortable.  I will myself to help lift other voices, especially BIPOC, who I have not listened to well at all. 

This is less reform than re-creation.  Of myself and of this world.  Maybe a few smaller things to start with (like the pattern of my day).  And maybe with frequent retreat to a distance from where I can see the bigger picture.

I believe that if I learn to care for people, I’ll be caring for wildlife, too, and all aspects of Earth. 

I seek forgiveness for what we have allowed to happen to others!  What we have done to the earth impacts first on the most oppressed people.  Let me see this, let me start there in some small way. Dear God, help me enter places where my senses suffer, instead of avoiding these places.  Maybe then I will also forgive myself.

Let me “see no stranger” as wonder and pain guide me onward.  I want to converse with others, and truly listen.  I want to bring all of me, and not be too proud to answer, to ask.

And I am a woman, a she-her, they-them woman, capable of power and sharing power.  I know what I know through this identity.  I am not afraid to admit it.  Forever, it draws me closer to the earth.  Forever being a woman makes me love birth, though I have never given birth.  Everyone has a mother.

I have howled at the moon, held the candles and the match and the drum and the knife.  Everything I have done opens my spirit now.  I have been a vegetarian and I have fished and raised and gutted chickens.  I have stopped eating angry food.  Each thing must have life before it feeds another.

I move around pretending I have the strength of a tree to witness all things, to dig in my roots, drink in the sun and the rain, and to let my heart open like a flower.

I am a woman who embraces trees, who plants them in my tiny yard and watches them, watches them throughout the seasons.  I watch them for many years.

I used to perform ceremonies for the life of trees and moss and water, earth, air—using fire and sound and movement.  Now I watch.  Simplifying everything so that I can learn, reform, transform.  Have a reason to live my full life.  30 more years is possible.  Imagine what we could create in 30 more years if we listen!

Imagine how we might learn from each other ways to have small victories.  Imagine nurturing our spirits with each other in small retreats, and then going back out strengthened to be conscious, intentional, focused, and in love with creation.  How we may transform in this transformation!  How we might spread the good news. 

Dear God, dear Earth who share and show us creation:

Do you see your creation in me?  Do I show you physically, mentally, and other ways?

I look at you when I look up and down and within, even when I don’t remind myself you’re there.

I remind myself multiple times a day to tune in to your reality—in the day, the night and the ocean. So many colors and tones surround me!

And if I am not aware that I experience you, let me recognize you later, reflecting on my experience—a moment recalled in tranquility like a poem.

I am no longer trying to be too much or bigger or any other way than a learner in your light.  Let me see you in all life.  Let the joy I feel in writing this praise turn into hope.  Let my hope be full of courage. Let it be shared.

     © 2021 Susan L. Chast