You're Not Rich - But You Got This

This virus is making me nostalgic, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I ramble here. When I was a kid, I thought every family had a pantry stocked with at least a dozen cans of beans, mixed vegetables and tomato sauce (and frankly most of them did). My mother, aunts and grandmother saved bacon grease in coffee cans instead of buying oil or shortening and washed and reused tinfoil until it shredded. Uncles and my friend’s fathers had baby food jars of used screws and nails of every size. Dad wasn’t handy but he was a prize wheeler-dealer with bargaining the price of everything and could squeeze a penny until it screamed. My parents took a lot of pride in taking us to the bank when we were still in grade school to open a savings account and they were almost religiously fervent about setting aside money for a rainy day. Perhaps I was aware of the frugality, but it seemed like everyone’s family was money cautious. What I was aware of was approximately where our family was financially. My father went on strike at his company and decided after a time that he didn’t want to work for a boss who could lower his wage or arbitrarily lay him off. So, he and my mother took all their savings and became business owners. While they were successful and after a while there was more money in the house, we moved to a less posh neighborhood to make that shift happen. My brother and I were expected to work from about age 8. I knew we were financially in better shape than most in my neighborhood, but all that family frugality let me know that we were not wealthy.

By the time the ‘greed is good’ era of the 1980’s came around, I had graduated high school and had a pretty fair job. Frankly I needed a good job because I moved out on my own at the age of seventeen – which was actually possible then. Of course, I moved nearly everything I owned in the back of my hatchback. Clothes, a small stereo, books and a bookcase made out of cinder blocks and a single box of kitchen stuff was all I had or needed, except for my bed. My family’s scrimping was something I wanted distance from, so maintaining my savings habit fell off the radar. Only old and worried people saved money and I had  lots of time to make more. I pretty much spent whatever I made and I was hardly unique in that. When I’d visit my parents, I would try to convince them to look into new and improved products or technologies or maybe remodel their house. I thought I was pretty savvy and that they were old fashioned. They thought I was wasteful. Still, when the “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” became a television series I knew, absolutely knew that these were not My People. No one I knew even had contact with actual rich people. Still, it was fun to watch women in spangly tight dresses with massive shoulder pads sip champagne on yachts. Voyeuristic thrills were on offer so all us regular folks could peek inside mansions with marble foyers and master bedrooms larger than our entire house. They were Them and we were Us. And We could watch Them like visitors at a gilded and ridiculous human zoo.

Alright, that sentiment is not exactly true because with the onset of the 1980s in the United States we began to be subjected to the idea that we might, just maybe, have some piece of the Rich pie. Here’s an example – huge brick-sized cell phones first came out in the mid 1980’s and by the end of that decade some businesspeople leased them and would cart them around in their cars. People like moi might even get to see (or gasp…use) one. Cue up Boyfriend from 1988 whose parents had one of these (then) fantastic devices. Before a road trip his mother handed us said magic device locked in a swanky case with the instruction, “use only in case of emergency – I mean it – the car better be on fire.” That admonition fell out of his ears by the time we hit the 3-hour mark on the road. He reasoned that we really ought to tell my friends that we were coming for a visit and we were running later than planned. Alrighty then! “Hello friend… yea … this is me.  We’re on the road.  No, we’re not using a payphone. We are ON THE ROAD. Like, in the car. We’re calling you FROM THE CAR!!!” (insert happy squealing here). That call led to another, and so on and so on until we hit my parent’s driveway. Of course, we had to call them from their driveway. How else could said boyfriend impress the parentals? They were actually impressed (or horrified, I can’t be sure now) We must have ‘made it’ because by gawd we were driving my almost new, very sporty car (that I owed an arm and a leg for) with said shiny dialing brick (that wasn’t actually ours) and we could afford weekend trips (down the valley, paid  on my credit card)!

Our belief that we had somehow jumped the class barrier was rather quickly squashed a few weeks after we returned from our trip. In the good old days every single call one made came listed separately with the telephone number and the duration (and cost!) of each call. Each call cost about a zillion dollars. Seriously. We racked up nearly $500 on a handful of seemingly short telephone calls. Not only did we not have a mansion und a yacht, we had to finance repaying that telephone bill over months! If that wasn’t enough to convince us that we were not rich and famous, the look my beau’s mom gave us along with the verbal throttling were fantastic reminders.

I don’t have to tell you that since that time so many of the things that were once considered out of reach luxuries are today almost expected acquisitions and expenses for anyone with a job. Highly powered and fairly new cellphone with unlimited minutes – Check. Nice car with air conditioning and electronics package – Check. Home with beautifully designed kitchen and bathrooms – Check. Professional haircut and coloring – Check. Dining out (despite the lovely kitchen) – Check. Your mileage may vary, but you get the point.

How, may you ask, do we have such luxuries now when back in the day people would routinely call long-distance and let it ring 3-times and abruptly hang up to let their parents know they were safe, while not racking up a long-distance call charge? I would call it “The Great Middle Class (AKA Almost Rich) Hoax.”

Again, by the late 1980’s companies began to routinely entice working people with the idea that while you might not be able to be exactly rich, you could have at least some of it. You could have that brick cell phone, even if you could only afford 2 calls a month. You couldn’t afford couture, but design houses had 2^nd tier ‘designer’ clothing that you could probably save for – and as a bonus they would slap their label - Dior or Chanel or Gucci - right on the outside so other people could easily witness that you were nearly rich-ISH. Decades rolled on and we got cell phones we could actually buy and not lease, and phone plans that gave us a set number of minutes that we could pay for in a lump (just don’t go over.. for gawd’s sake.. don’t!) Business computing systems were followed with home computers that just kept getting more upgraded (and necessary) with every passing year. Ok, you might not be able to afford Monte Carlo, but you and your family could go on a cruise to exotic places. I mean, it isn’t your yacht but still – Mexico, the Caribbean and (ohmygosh) Europe was within your grasp if you saved long enough. Or, there was credit. I mean, why wait to save when so much cool stuff was out there for the taking! The message was – you’re just wasting time trying to save. Do it now, while you can! And, while you’re at it, please note that it takes way too long to cook your own food, or wax your own car or mow your own lawn, or wait for next week’s television program (VCR anyone). Life was just getting better and better and we were all getting posher by the minute.

Except we weren’t, not exactly. What society, and maybe we, failed to notice is that we got this new lifestyle mostly by going into greater and greater debt. In the 1970’s the savings rate percentage of the average American was in the double digits. But once we all got access to easy credit, we took it. Then we had to stay ahead of the debt. So, we all began to work more and more. But that was ok, because it was explained to us that you could not Have It All unless you pushed and climbed and clawed your way through and up.  It was all about the career and the experiences and things and titles that all those hours would afford you. And it was worth it.

Except it wasn’t. Society also failed to make most of us notice that while our cars and house and hairstyles got flashier and we had more and more of the good life, actual Rich People had gotten fewer (percentage-wise) and even richer than before. The Lifestyle kept getting farther away, even as we gave up more and more of our time to work and had to continue to outsource things – due to exhaustion- like cooking, growing food and seeing our families. Who needs grandpa and skills anyway? Packing a lunch is for poor people!

Fast forward to today. Who are our heroes now? Who are we looking up to? For starters, with coronavirus we need, and I mean NEED those whose labor serves others. Yes, doctors and nurses of course. But also notice that grocery stockers and clerks, pharmacy techs, mail and package delivery workers are our heroes. How would we survive without manufacturers, farmers and pickers? Chefs and cooks of every caliber are superstars (can people actually cook without YouTube videos?) Drivers are still out there too – buses, trains and ferries are running and someone is making that happen. Those people whose labor has been ignored or even denigrated are finally rising up and we can see (and I hope  appreciate) them. Hey, maybe when this is all over we could actually pay them what they are worth. Artists! Do you see how we need music, dance, painting, theatre, fashion/sewing to keep us all from going stir-crazy as we are in enforced confinement sheltering in place?

A professor of mine (a particularly callous and dense human being) told our class that the world would be a much better place when all the older generation just died and we could get on with a more enlightened populace. The nerve and ignorance of that statement angered me then but is fantastically stupid today. Most of the oldest generation now alive remembers how to grow a garden, bake a great loaf of bread, make stock from vegetable scraps, sew a quilt or fix their own leaky roof. Most of them were masters of perseverance and tenacity, even if their phones and haircuts were generally crap.

Tonight, as I make my own tortillas, look at the dinner rolls I made yesterday, figure out the 18^th way to use ground beef to make a meal, and marvel at the face mask I created from a pattern (without throwing the sewing machine out a window), I am so grateful to those feisty and cheap forebearers of mine. Because of their example (and friends and YouTube yet again) I have the skills to not only cook my own food but to grow it. I’m not afraid to cut my own hair, change an electrical outlet, paint my own house and (heaven forbid) hang laundry out to dry if I have to (yes, it’s a thing).

You’re lucky too! I know that right now it might not feel that way. You might have lost your job (or at least your place to GO to work) with this virus and that’s scary. You might be so young that you believe coffee only comes from a barista at a place called Star_ucks (it's beans and water, I can show you how.) It is possible that your family subsisted on fast food burgers and the occasional sushi so they didn’t pass on culinary skills. But what you do have right now is a little more time. Even if you’re still working, your commute has likely diminished from many miles to a few feet – Win! And working in PJ’s – come on!  With all that time you can reach out to people you know. Those people know things! They can share ideas, tips and techniques with you about all kinds of stuff you used to have to pay other people to do for you. You might have grandparents, parents, aunties and uncles, former high school teachers and neighbors and they all know stuff you don’t know (and you know stuff they need to know!) Sharing! Hey, my nonno used to make his own wine – dang why didn’t I learn that?

The things you can’t do for yourself, the super important stuff is still being performed by intrepid Essential Workers - aka those people who used to be kind of invisible or whose presence we took for granted but who we all now realize are exceptionally vital. Isn’t that incredible and aren’t we so blessed by them? (If that statement refers to you… thank you from the bottom of my heart.)

This virus is not a joke or a picnic. The virus is not a vacation. People have died and even more people will die. Those are facts. But this is also a moment of some blessing. You can unplug a bit from the rat race that was your life. Did you know working so hard is not actually required? It is a social construction and we can de-construct it. Let’s do. Did you previously realize all the things you actually can do without? (I’m looking at you paper towels) With a little time you could walk outside and smell the air and listen to the birds. Remember birds? And clouds? And trees? Remember how each season had a color and a smell that was unique? That’s still there. Remember how you got that cat/dog/parrot/gerbil (fill in the blank) because it was so cute and you enjoyed playing with it… could you do that again? Hint – they would love that. If you haven’t Marie Kondo’d all your books I bet you have a few (cough .. dozen) you intended to read but never got around to. Bonus – there’s probably more stuff in those books that teach you how to do even more stuff (or maybe just how to shoot space aliens, but still.) Have you given any thought about the talents you have that you haven’t used lately? If you aren’t spending 50, 60 80 hours a week with work+commute, couldn’t you dust off some of those abilities that make you awesome and unique and You?! Hey, video yourself and teach someone else.

As I sit here wiping down the foil that I used to cover yesterday’s casserole (yea, I said it), I want to remind myself – and you – We Got This. We always did. We just fell into a stupor for a (long) while that told us that money and fancy things were more important than people and time and dreaming. But we’re woke now. Can we keep it that way?

Oh, and lest we be tempted to fall back into that shiny and stupid dream, let me ask you a question. How many lost paychecks away from ruin are you? Keep asking that question any time you find yourself falling down the seductive ‘you could be rich’ rabbit hole in the future. Because generally we do not save money anymore, your answer might be 1 or it might be 6 paychecks, but I’ve got to tell you that you are NOT the 1% and that’s where the truly rich are – in that very excruciatingly tiny slice of the population. We used to know that, and I think we should know that again. And … do you know what that makes you? You …. We… Are (GASP)  The Working Class. Yup, I hate to break it to you but if you’re not able to survive without a paycheck, you need a job and people who need jobs are Working Class. So, when we get back to work, and we will, let’s not forget that whatever color our collar might be, (another stupid social construct), we all need (and should take better care of) each other. Working class people are valuable. YOU are valuable.

Ok, now let me get back to my tinfoil and you … go make something. I believe in you.

Fashion, Weight Loss and The Planet

I have been on quite a journey, and in fact I am still on it.  

When I changed my diet in the fall of 2017, I had hopes that I could make some significant changes to my life, but honestly I didn't expect much. Maybe I could lose a little and get my back to hurt less and maybe I could climb stairs without having to haul myself up by pulling on the handrail. What I've gotten so far has been so much more than that. Pain in my body is gone as the inflammation has fallen. My physician is usually pretty thrilled to see me, and frankly surprised I've kept off a more than 100lb weight loss. While I'd like to lose another 40 pounds, she seems perfectly astonished with where I'm at. People ask me, "Ummm how much more do you want to lose?" I never thought I hear that question in my lifetime!

Now I've got a problem that lots of folks would like to have - my closets are nearly empty after three donation cycles of too-big garments. The last pile of boxes topped 4 1/2 feet tall! I had no idea I even owned that many clothes, but when one keeps multiple sizes in the closet "just in case" then clothing overwhelm happens. Now the closets are almost bare. 

But, I am facing a dilemma. Contrary to how I've presented myself for most of my life, I like clothes, and I enjoy fashion (though I've never much cared to be a follower). I was feigning disinterest when I'd go shopping with friends and I'd ignore most of what I saw because, frankly, the only thing that would fit me from most stores was socks! My foot is wide, so even those were off limits most of the time, and handbags don't really do it for me. So, I seemed to not care at all.  But I did.

Recently I purchased a few things that I love and they fit, today. They probably won't fit in three months. Since I work at a college and not a nudist colony, I need garments and I want them to look nice.  BUT... I'm very aware of the devastation of fast fashion. It is bad on so many levels - for a crash course check out this article on the Economist  

https://www.wri.org/blog/2019/01/numbers-economic-social-and-environmental-impacts-fast-fashion or watch the film, The True Cost https://truecostmovie.com/   You may be shocked.

Reduce, reuse, recycle - I've heard it a million times. I believe in it, but have I practiced it? Yes, to an extent. I recycle religiously, and I've donated my clothes to women's shelters and thrift stores. Recently I've begun to use ThredUp to sell my new and nearly new garments to people who will wear them, rather than have them end up in a landfill (and yes that happens even when you donate - see Economist article above). It doesn't feel like enough, so...

To put my my money where my mouth and heart are, this is my pledge - except for undergarments: 

I will buy NO Newly Manufactured Garments for the next year

So how will I clothe myself?  

• I will have my current garments altered whenever possible;
• I will buy from thrift stores;
• I will purchase from re-sellers;
• I will participate in clothing swaps/exchange events;
• I will make do with what I have.

In fairness, when I was at my heaviest I could not find clothes in thrift stores very often - it was one of the reasons I donated so many of my too-large garments because I couldn't be the only one looking without results. I also donated lots to women's shelters because - again - they didn't get donations in my size very often.  But now that I CAN do this, I WILL do this.  I'm still not tiny so it's a hunt, but possible. And, frankly seeing that mountain of garments that I got rid of kind of sickened me because I know some of it will end up in a landfill, maybe even a lot of it. I know that I don't have the time or the skill to use the fabric to quilt or re-make into something else like my ancestors, no doubt, did. So I feel called to do what seems like the next best thing which is to re-use what already exists so I step a little more gently on the planet.

Stay tuned to see how I fare. I'll share what works, what doesn't, where I win and where it feels like a disaster.

PS if you want to join me, here's $10 to try ThredUp  http://www.thredup.com/r/HA5EAC

Perfectly Imperfect

Let me start by saying that I know this blog may bring out support, or the trolls, and it's all good. I haven't posted in a while because I haven't really felt called to say anything. But today, when I looked in the mirror and saw a happy (makeup free) face, I was inspired.

I've lost 75 pounds in the last year, and people are beginning to notice. That's nice, most of the time and I'm happy enough about it to post photos of myself, sometimes. People have asked about how I did it, and I'm happy to share. People have noticed my body changing and that's ... interesting.  One benign comment has been niggling at me though - someone asked why I wore clothes that cover me up when it is so hot in the summer. "Why don't you wear sundresses? Why don't you wear sleeveless tops?" You know, I don't even do that when I'm Inside My House. But, yes, it gets to 100 degrees here so it's a fair question.

Here's the dealio - I lost a lot, a LOT of weight when I was 17 years old. It was drastic due to bariatric surgery. How drastic? I lost 40 lbs the first month.  😮 In 9 months I lost over 100 pounds. 😟 That's hard on a body, even a young body.  There were consequences, and there are consequences to this latest loss, even though it has been a slow and steady one.

My body is a testament to the life I've experienced. It shows stretch marks, it sports scars, moles, wrinkles. You know what? So does everyone else's body (except in cases where interventions have occurred, and no judgment there). Even still, I experience some discomfort with the condition of this vehicle I live in.

There's something I know, with 100% certainty about my body - if I show it to some people, they will be disgusted. How do I know? Because people have told me, repeatedly, throughout my life. When I was a kid I was teased and bullied. Fortunately I came up with quite a few good tactics to deflect, avoid, and deal with it, but it still happened. You know what else? I've had it happen as an adult. I've had people who adore and love me say things like, "but you have such a pretty face" or "you COULD be beautiful if...", or say in a sideways manner that they are better looking than I am. Out on fitness walks I've had trucks or cars (usually full of young men) pull over and shout things at me like "Whale", "Fatass", "Fu*kin Fat Bitch" etc. This didn't just embarrass me, it scared me for my life so if you're reading this and tempted to ever do this to someone, just don't. OK?  Sit with your disgust and consider it because I have ... not your disgust, but mine.  My disgust has kept me from wearing shorts when it was sweltering outside. My disgust has kept me out of swimming pools and off the beach. My disgust has kept me from taking a dance class, or yoga class, or belly dance class, traveling,  or myriad other things that seem fun. My disgust has kept me trying to find ways to be invisible.

Here's something sad - my body has done amazing things for me and I've not been very nice to it. I have said awful things about it, and sausage-cased it into body shapers and exercised it to the point of injury. Not kind, really. I'm better now, and my plan is gentle, but again some damage remains.

And then there are my arms. You've heard the term "bingo wings" ... well I've had them since I was eighteen years old. Imagine - never feeling OK when you're young to wear something sleeveless. Even when I was approaching 'thin', I would not have dared. Even when I lived in a town where 110+ degree summer days were not uncommon. Wow, what a lot of fun and life (not to mention comfort) I've denied myself.  I'm really working to get over that. So if you love me, be patient with me, it may take some time to unravel all of this. I know I'm more than my skin, and I know my worth is more than any beauty standard, I really do. But, I'm not sure those feelings are widely held in our culture. You will have to pardon me if it takes time to trust. And if we're strangers, maybe remember my story the next time you see a body that shows signs of some significant life events.

So here, ladies and gentlemen, is some proof. Here are the arms that have deflated, the arms that have held lovers and babies and pets. My arms that house skills and muscle and blood and bone and scars and life. And some of you will cringe, but that's OK. Learning to love Real is good for us.

The Great Dismantlng, or "Why Do I Really Want To Punch Someone?"

Have you ever seen one of those rock tumblers? You toss a bunch of jagged rocks with sand together in this centrifugal spinner. The friction of all the jagged rocks clanging together will, over time, knock the edges off to produce smooth beautifully polished stones.

This is the energy pulsing in the world right now, and I'm seeing the effects of this with everyone, including me.  Of course the news is filled with cultural/national friction, and we cannot escape that. The collective horror and sadness hurts our hearts.

What may be affecting us more, and perhaps unexpectedly, are the jabs from the rocks in our own garden, so to speak. The people closest to us have sharp edges. We have sharp edges.  Right now we are clanging together. It isn't pleasant a lot of the time and occasionally a spark or two will fly even in the most harmonious and enduring relationships. The tumbling action is causing scraping on all the rough spots, all the fears and anxieties we hold and haven't fully resolved are being battered and bruised. Some of the oldest and most core issues are screaming at this time. Whatever is deep ... financial fear, fear of being left, fear of being truly seen, fear of being disappointed, fear of the "others" -  it is all flaring.

This is part of the Great Dismantling.

The system, the program, the scaffolding that we have all built up that tells us how the world works, that tells us how we work, how and where we fit in the world and in the cosmos and in relationships is all crumbling and dissolving. We are all unsteady. Humans do not like feeling unsteady. Uncomfortable humans lash out trying to find a hand or a foot hold to steady us.

But know this as your annoyance rises - the people who can most help us bring about the change in the quickest way are the ones in our intimate circle. We have already let them in, we let them come close. There is no wall or filter. They have the biggest job to do and we are doing the same for them. 

This jangled, shifting energy is one we are all trying to learn to flow with right now. Be the willow, not the oak.  

Consider - a child doesn't take her first step and think, "OK, I've got this movement thing mastered. I know how this  works. I've made the right choices and now I'm going to just enjoy it." No, a child knows instinctively that things change, and looks forward to the next change, pushes for it, while not even knowing what it is. Children also learn quickly that there might not be one right choice. There might be many, or none at all.  But, we adults want to have some steadiness and peace. We want to know the right thing to do so that we can have safety, so that we have comfort. We forget that we are designed to grow. We forget that the moments when everything lines up perfectly are few and fleeting and yet life is beautiful all the same. We forget that all the prior moments have brought us Here. We forget that we cannot grow without shedding the old skin first. We forget that everyone else is uncomfortable too and they are acting up, acting out, throwing tantrums ... or worse. We forget to be kind and gentle and encouraging because we're all so very tired.

The old ways are failing, and your flailing won't change that. 
The explosions can destroy you. 
Or, they can polish you.
Your choice.

Tearing Off The Mask

I'm middle-aged woman. I've been married for 25 years. I have a handful of wonderful and true friends, and am blessed to be surrounded by a wider circle of upright and diverse individuals. I survived Catholic school. I am a fat woman, and I own it. My college degree is in women's studies with an emphasis on women of color. I have been a feminist since ... birth.  Astrologically I'm a Scorpio sun and Aries moon, and I've just come through Saturn in my sign. I am proud to be a Crone. Pick any one of those things and you will know that my popularity or likability is rather irrelevant. There is an incredible freedom afforded those who live long enough and choose to take advantage of it - the ability to use our voice, our words and to face our own crap.

A few years ago it became very clear to me, and to lots of people, that the world we live in and the systems we interact with are not quite what we believed. I credit Saturn the hard task master, and cell phone cameras, and social media. Seriously, unless you have truly been living in a cave (aka only watching 'reality' TV and the shopping channels) your face has been mashed right into the muck, so to speak. You can't get out of bed without hearing and seeing the ugly boils on the proverbial butt of our existence. Our very earth,  air and water are being spoiled by pollution, chemicals, fracking, etc. Institutions and their people have abused their authority and done unspeakable things - the church scandals, the institutionalized pedophilia, the militarization of our police, and all the inequitable treatment of our brothers and sisters who society treats as 'other'. Racism, sexism, ageism, demonizing the poor, brutalizing anyone who isn't recognized as a fully equal with those 'in charge' is happening all around us and try as we might to bury our head in the sand or distract ourselves with bills, work, parenting, or 'being spiritual', this is the reality of our world.

Does this piss you off?  I mean, you're a good person after all. It's not your fault the world is messed up. You didn't do it. And really you've worked hard too, and your life isn't a bed of roses and cupcakes either. Right? Can't people just get along and stop moaning about it all. After all, they don't know you, they don't know your life.

I had these same thoughts when I was in my college program. But, the thing is that I wanted to be hit full in the face with knowledge, so I chose the most challenging classes to take. I had one (long awaited) shot at college and I wanted to absorb as much as possible. Honestly, in retrospect, when I chose women's studies as a major I thought I knew a lot about feminism and felt I could approach the material from a dispassionate academic point of view and earn high marks. I didn't expect to be angered, challenged, and broken down. I didn't expect to have to examine my own preconceptions - I didn't even know I had any. I didn't realize how programmed I was by social convention, and how blinded I was to the truth of the actual daily experience being lived not just by strangers, but by people I loved. I had to admit a profound ignorance and be willing to face that shame. In short, I didn't expect to have my entire world-view dismantled and I didn't expect to be so profoundly heart-broken and shaken to the core. It didn't happen over night. The learning took years, and it is ongoing still, but I don't regret it for a single moment.

In the film "Cracking the Codes," Peggy McIntosh said, "(for) well-meaning people who have never thought about privileged systems ... teaching is very necessary to get them past blame, shame, guilt. They were born into circumstances they didn't invent. They were born into systems they didn't invent. The American myth of meritocracy is... that the unit of society is the Individual and whatever you end up with must be what you wanted and worked for and earned individually. (You've) been taught that. It's not true. Huge systems that one is born into will bear on what one can do with one's life, and how one will see. That's the part that has been missing from education. So these white women breaking up over their first experience of hearing about racism, they are basket cases partly because of their bad, bad education, and their inability to see systemically and it's not their fault."

It's not your fault, unless you are actively perpetuating mistreatment of others. But, once our eyes are open, it is our responsibility, yours and mine, to change the systems of inequity.  Honestly I wonder if this is why we don't want to see, don't want to know. I think it's why we get so angry. Once we know, we can't go back to ignorantly believing that everything is OK in our world, even if everything is OK in our own sphere.

People, we are at a fork in the road.  You can veer in one direction and keep your I'm A Good Person mask on firmly and tightly, and that is your right and for all I know, that may be your path. Or, you can opt to take the mask off.  Yes this is a Matrix moment. You have full control. You get to choose.  The one thing The Matrix got wrong ... removing the veil isn't as easy as swallowing a pill.  You don't slide the mask off, you Rip it off.  It will be painful. You will probably bleed, and you will most certainly cry, and it will make you profoundly and bone-crushingly tired.  But, you cannot get your wings unless you are willing to tear your way out of the cocoon.  And, while you are trying to decide, our planet, and our people ... all that you love ... is crying for you to wake up. Ascension and enlightenment in my world is not about OM'ing your way to bliss - it is about taking the hand of the one next to you, truly seeing them, truly loving and honoring them and yourself, and rising together. We ARE one, there is no Other, and if you've been looking to find your divine service - here you go.