Tag: activism

Pilgrimage

It’s so strange really, the insult, threat and even surprise we feel, when someone prays different, loves different, talks different, looks different — Chooses, different. The intolerance we hold in our hearts, when God speaks 6,500 languages. She probably doesn’t give a shit if we pray or don’t pray, as many that pray, only pretend. *Transaction* The word that comes to mind. 

Those that truly pray, are intimately woven with *Reverence* The word that comes to heart. Smiling eyes of a stranger. Counting ten baby toes on a first born — Oh, the holiness of toes. It’s a kneel in the dirt. Fists sometimes pounding a pillow, for all that has seemed and seems unfair. It is screaming for something or someone lost. By the millions. It is to meet a new lover, a new friend and whisper, “I care.” It is to hold a sign that says, ”Enough is Enough.” It is remembering old friends and all they taught us. Showed us — and to let them know, they are part of the threads, back to our own Holiness. 

Prayer is to know that all is Holy, all the time. And really, that there is no time — only the time that is passing before we too, become the dirt, we once kneeled in. The mountain we once climbed. The petals on a flower that we picked, asking, “Does he love me?  Love me not.” Knowing the answer isn’t part of the prayer. That’s just it. Prayer is a humble surrender to the uncertain. The dark shadows in a forest, on a sunny day. It is not being over or under someone. It is my ten toes and your ten toes, if we’re lucky enough to have our feet, not blown off by war. On a Pilgrimage – Together – Sharing Beauty. 

Resuscitation -Take I-

In these most unprecedented times, the public has been swarmed with a range of portraits/narratives into a medical system that has been quite frankly, working in the closet for years. I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where we’ve had more of a closeup, inside the walls of our hospitals. This closeup though, needs further attention. First and foremost, may we observe lightly as well as think deeply and more objectively into the lens we are viewing from outside the walls. Things are never as what they appear to be….we know this. We live in such a time of glossy and or fake news/entertainment, agenda driven squares and quite frankly, an ever evolving lack of self authority and responsibility.    

In order for us to transcend — renew a sense of responsibility in our Care systems, I think we must begin to storytell. We need stories from deep within the hearts of medical providers. We need the tragic and the beautiful. The moments we have been touched by our patients, when we have learned something from them, and moments we’ve realized, mistakes were made. We need the stories of birth and of death and how we can accommodate both transitions better. We need to hear humans over machines; hearts over minds, at times and the stories that are impacting our environment as well as the health of the providers/patients within these walls. 

Recently, I have listened to many perplexed and anxious medical minds and bodies on the forefront. And we perhaps, have an even more bewildered and scared mass of bodies waiting outside, to be seen by these insides. My hope is we resuscitate a culture that’s too often boot straps and boxing gloves. That we become alive and healthy again through truths, stories and broader perspectives of what it means to be a human in health care. The good, bad and the ugly. Hey, and if you want to do a dance at times, dance.  I guess just looking into the intention, within that celebration. Because remember, the outside is always looking in, fortunately and unfortunately with a more scrutinous eye.  At the end of the day may we all be Ambassadors for something larger than ourselves.