.1. All week, I have been thinking about the promise I made > to write a new entry < and I must admit that it’s weighed heavy on me, this promise. Oddly, it seems to have both placed pressure on me to think of something coherent and also, to paralyze my move to puzzle old words together in an effort to create something new. For this reason, I have decided to simply write. This is more a stream of consciousness, rather than an entry with one specific idea and purpose. But it is an entry and it has been promised and now here it is…

.2. Because so many of you seem to have found something which resonated when you read The Story that Hides, I will provide a small contextualization for this written bit.

I began writing that in November of 2007, a couple of weeks after I had my heart completely beaten to a pulp by someone, an occurrence that had never happened before and one by which my entire self had become displaced. That’s all anyone needs to know about that piece.

That and the fact that a slight variation of it will likely become the first chapter of a more complete story some day.

.3. I spent 10 days in Vancouver in October. It was lovely as Vancouver is a stunning city and the weather gorgeous.

The most incredible day spent there was the one during which I spent a few hours in Pigeon Park. This is the most notorious park in the City in terms of poverty.

I picked up 25 sandwiches, coffees and cookies from my favorite shop (Smart Mouth Cafe at 131 Water Street, no 117 – highly recommended next you are in VanCity) and took them, with the help of three employees across the way to the park.

There we handed them out to anyone who wanted and I spent some time speaking with the prostitutes and the junkies and peoples’ grandchildren and grandparents covered in lesions and cuts and bruises, scrapes and scraps of clothing not warm enough for even a summer’s day.

I left there a little broken and invigorated, a little sad and a lot confused. I wandered for a few hours in my own head considering that any individual making different choices or living different experiences could be in that park. None of us are immune and we must extend grace and love to all.

.4. Speaking of which, we were recently out to dinner and had a very heavy discussion about this particular idea of ‘judgment’.

Among the folks at dinner was someone vehemently opposed to judging the actions of others: “People who judge are assholes. Who the f*ck are they to judge me?” Interestingly enough, in their judgment of individuals judging others and opposition to said judgment, they had become complicit in the very thing they were opposing: judgment. (Tautology is the vice of Dr. Seuss, didn’t you know?)

I kept my mouth shut and didn’t point this out, choosing to instead name the shrimp in my Yum Mamuang and wrote in my head their journey from ocean to kitchen. It was called “Monkey, Pippy, Thomas and Famke Fall Into A Trap, Are Caught, Then Get Grilled”. Maybe I’ll share it some day…

But. I think since judgment is inevitable and a part of human nature, perhaps the key is to temper it with a sort of mercy. Attempt to understand the actions you’ve judged and do so in as gentle a manner as possible, remembering that people are not inherently bad, though we all tend to act in foolish and hurtful manners many times in our lives (whether it’s because we’re spoiled a**holes with a heavy sense of entitlement, or because we actually didn’t know we were being a**holes).

On this note, here we need to acknowledge the difference between understanding an action and justifying that same action. Also, that there are some things we simply can not stand for – now, extend this perspective to social justice and then make no difference between the shit and unacceptable behavior of one individual against an other individual (e.g. one man refusing to serve another because of the colour of his skin // one man abusing his wife) and collective behavior against any group (e.g. laws supporting segregation // women not being allowed to vote, own property, etc.).

There is great danger in us denying the direct link between the individual and the collective. (See below End Note.)

The moment we recognize and own the reality that each action we take must be a reflection of a social fabric wherein we look out and care for one another in an equal and respectful manner is a first step to doing away with the horrible atrocities we commit against one another, be it collectively or individually.

Don’t ever think that we, as individuals, can act without impunity, or that our actions are disassociated from our world view or the freedoms we fight for, the social justice me must uphold.

(I am guilty of falling short of this on many an occasion and I’ve behaved like a Grade-A a**hole, but I work hard to recognize my stupidity and then remedy it when I can and as immediately as possible. The above is as much a reminder to myself as it is a reminder to anyone reading it.)

End note: If you are of the belief that we – and only we – are responsible for ourselves and no one else is responsible for us, and that we can’t be held to a higher standard of extending responsibility and comfort to others who are hurting or who have been oppressed or whose rights have been sh*t on, then you can take your nihilistic individualistic perspective and f*ck off – this writing isn’t for you, and neither are the opinions within.

.5. Sorry this entry is completely lame. But it is an entry and it’s a first step to me overcoming the shit writer’s block that has placed my mind in a logjam…xxoo

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