Preparing for election - Anger - Invalidation - Power - the blessing of story

In honour of all I have met in the last month

Once upon a time - long ago there was a young boy who had many questions.  He went around asking people "what are you doing?" The linemen on the telephone poles - the men in the ditches - the women in the kitchens.  The butcher, the baker, the plumber and even the people on the "honey - wagon" coming to haul away the buckets of excrement from the outhouses down the back lane.  Why were there so many dead chicks in the garbage cans behind "the hatchery"? Why was the man with the horses in his yard so grumpy?   As a child - the memory as to the response went something like this; "just making little boys ask questions!"  The statement contained a profound truth that imprinted on the author during that critical stage of development a neural pathway deep within the recess of memory.  So many years have passed - but such memory is foundational to my own sense of self and for my readers such inquisition continues.

Growing up in a community where a toddler felt safe - asking questions - wondering around the ever expanding neighbourhood -  many marvelous discoveries were made.  The expeditions of "wondering boy" granted him a world view that it was okay to ask questions of who, what, where, and why "life" was the way it was.  This remarkable journey of discovery had many risks and depending on how such risk was measured it may have been deemed; foolishness or brilliance - depending on who was making the commentary. In school we were told stories of the work of the people at the United Nations who were helping to build a world where everyone could live in peace.  We were told it was important to learn and grow - imagine beyond what we thought we knew.  We were tested - and shown how to write with a stick with a metal nib that we dipped into little strange shaped bottles - the contents in a variety of colors - careful not to spill or "the blotter" was engaged.  The confines of the subject matter in collusion with the personality and level of grace and blessing of the teachers the experiences of schooling was often either a blessing or a curse for many.   The blotter effect of both the blotter which left the offending blot not as significant, may not have had the same outcome of the words, responses and behaviours of the teachers and the systems they were involved with in attempt to provide a common destiny for all.

The words, responses and behaviors of the human factors dispensing the insidious power of cultural formation of the social body left many wounds.   The testing - the negation - the invalidation of termed as "the right: answer - idea - word - way including not using one's left hand and other inanities marred and covered up the soul and spirit of many along life's journey."  Other markers of spilled colors included privilege - race - superiority - class - wealth and a dominant (mob) violence towards the weak, the vulnerable and the different.  I was granted a valid passport on the first class train rolling across our nation because I could recite back to the gatekeepers what they wanted to hear and see.  I was informed of duty, service, and the obligation to challenge authority.  Much of my life has been lived in resistance to power.  But like the single tickets to ride the buses - public transportation - or ability to go to school or hospitals have "portioned out moments of validity" and when such moments end - one is forced to leave - step off the system "marked or deemed invalid" - left vulnerable to the ill-winds of righteousness and narrow visions of political masters.  The legacy of invalidation provides my heart - breaking work with survivors of domestic violence helping them recover their precious "little - elder" self of innocence beauty and awe they were blest with when they were born.

I have learned from my brothers and sisters and as a witness to their pain, shame and suffering what resilience and life lived valiantly is about.  Living with a legacy of invalidation I honor the survivors of all schools - especially the ones who endured "residential schools - and those taken away from their families", I admire their courage to get up and speak truth to power - I have no excuse not to do the same. I experienced overwhelming evidence of shared grace, courage and hope spoken in truth and love at the gatherings of the Truth and Reconciliation events in Halifax and Victoria.
trc.ca

In this Easter season, I will pick myself up and come out of my cave - with new life to bloom for a short while. I will get on my bicycle and go down the hill to vote for hope,  optimistically allowing the vision of being part of the amazing spirit of life, to grow and thrive in a community that values love and all life. The saving grace is that together using canoes and other amazing ways of travelling together we can slow down our lives- heal and recover - and allow mother earth to restore and hold us close once again. 

Remember you are nothing less than beautiful

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIn-q7YkVSo&feature=related