I woke up this morning having lost my voice.
SpAce B00 is playing on the subject “who can own what ain’t even known to be owned?”
question posited by petulant poet and alleged anti-semite Amiri Baraka.
My own uncle by marriage a Holocaust survivor- he hid from the Nazis in a ditch, covered in straw, when he was a young child. I will state firmly that I have no love for anti-semites however this poet throws light on subjects worth investigating.
One of my interests is tarot, a good subject for another day.
But my card for the day- nine of pentacles. Or, in my particular deck, given to me by a very dear friend, in the Collective Tarot, the nine of bones. A stack of well-aligned vertebrae.
My Uncle might not have been plagued with the same sense of western orphan-ism that we have here in America, pandemically. He was both anecdotally and in my memories, a kind, exceptionally good-natured man. Having had to fight for his own survival gave him a sense of perspective. He wasn’t prejudiced, and he didn’t sweat the small stuff.
As a ‘Merican, being gifted with supermarket shelves full of (questionably…) nutritious food and more-or-less frequent access to them I can’t complain. But mostly can’t say as I’d previously had any burning desire to remain on this planet- or rather that my desire had never previously been tested.
And, the situations facing Americans now don’t pulsate with the urgency of Nazi Germany. But we must remain vigilant in order that these systems of hatred do not repeat themselves; as they say, “never forget.”
But we do forget. Our parents and grandparents fought to give us comfortable lives, and- as Space B pointed out to me- in this comfort might have been a trade-off.
Which is largely why the common person does not often question the systems in place.
But take a look around- every system in this country is broken or eroding.
Losing my voice is an allegory for the disempowerment we all fight against daily. Some aren’t even aware enough to know that they’re fighting, some don’t fight hard enough. But, every time you live your own truth the forces of darkness lose a little battle.
I struggle to form words around the heartbreak that’s festering internally. My lips close against an alien Fran Drescher voice, or a near-dead whisper.
My political candidates never win.
So, in a system where copyright laws protect citizens from free information, media conglomerates own not only our sources of information and dictated “cool”, and they have our political candidates in their pockets, what voice can I find? With corporate pirates naming a free internet as “piracy”- and trying to stifle us with bills such as SOPA and PIPA, with wages falling as corporate profits rise-
The only option in this type of situation is to keep trying. Gulp some lozenges and a mug of hot tea, and keep trying.
Because nobody can own me. The bankers that are making money on my college debt can’t own me. The major political parties can’t co-opt my opinions if I have access to information and a free mind. The gas companies, the pharmaceutical giants, the factory farms can pollute my water and my air, they can give me cancer and kill me, but they can’t erode my basic humanity.
Unless I let them.
“A man can’t ride you unless your back is bent”-said beloved nonviolent activist Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
The most important thing is what does belong to us- primarily- what we are at least long-term renters on-
our bodies, our minds, our voices. If we don’t use them, we have nothing.
I will start this first series of blogs on the body.
Skin, bones, teeth, brains, the parts that add to the gestalt.
And I write with my back erect (giggles).