The appeal of post-activism–a walk into the desert beyond the last swimming pool, is an escape from human centrality, an intention to tend the wounds we have inflicted on our world, on ourselves, by presuming humans alone are the drivers of social change.
I’ve been in a rage since before the financial collapse of 2008. Well, actually, a good deal longer than that.
I could be pushing myself into ‘activism,’ reaching out to interact in a larger process or to articulate a view of what is important, communicating with others and formulating strategies, a timeline of objectives. But all of that is falling away.
The story of this body is written in an ever-refreshing pixilated environment, an ocean of shifting light, multitudes of biochemical gates constantly opening and closing. There is no permanent story.
This is the imperative of evolving spirituality, realizing Sufism’s unity of fanaa and baqaa & of Buddhism’s Two Truths, to be here and everywhere at all times, to simultaneously be emptiness and embodiment.
Bodhicitta is a way of connecting to other lives, of saying we are nothing without that connection and that our connection to each other is deeper than we can ever truly know.
These two ways of experiencing the world, Being and Becoming, either by assuming human centrality which doesn’t exist or by de-centralizing humanity and recovering a capacity to experience our deep entanglement with all of life, are not so much mutually exclusive as they are a continuum.
Maybe I could see it if I had eyes on the side of my head instead of looking straight, as if I’m a fish, perpetually suspicious about the possibility of water—as if I once knew of it but have forgotten. That is, if I, a fish, believed in existence.
Grief is a way of loving what has slipped from view. Love is a way of grieving what has not
America is under racist assault. It has been this way for centuries—as though a cult of the undead, the empty