Quote from Deleted user on April 2020, 10:38 pm

I am not grieving.

There is no grief now.

I am out of grief.  There is nothing left.

I have spent my whole life grieving.

I have spent my whole life grieving for what is being manifested now.

My whole life grieving for the destruction we have caused our planet.  My whole live grieving for the people, the plants, the animals over which we have asserted power – in service of making ourselves feel better, bigger, more comfortable, more in control. 

My whole life grieving for those in pain on a daily basis because of our collective denial about their lack of access to things we take for granted every day.  Because of our fear that if they have, we will lack. 

My whole life grieving for those who are “less than,” because we have choses to see them as such for our benefit.  My whole life grieving for those who are viewed as outsiders, derelicts, unstable, or sick because they reflect our greatest fears about ourselves.

My whole life grieving for those who are viewed as abnormal, when they are actually displaying very normal responses to operating systems and structures that are far from normal.

My whole life grieving for a world that values doing, having, and flaunting what we are doing and having more than it values the fact that being alive is more than enough to be worthy of value.

My whole life grieving for the separateness – the lack of recognition of the connectedness – among all living things that is so clear to me.

My whole life grieving for the potential of society – what things would look like if we were operating from love and not fear. 

My whole life grieving those who are or have been addicted, depressed, anxious, shamed, ostracized, castigated – any being who has felt unloved.  Know that you are loved by forces greater than the human mind can comprehend.

My whole life grieving for the homeless or hungry person on the corner who you pass by every day.  His name is Daniel, by the way.  He’s from Milwaukee and he is more brilliant, intelligent, and compassionate than most of the people you will ever meet.  What stories did you tell yourself to help yourself feel better about walking by him without acknowledging his presence? Likely not the true story – that he sacrificed his own well-being for those he perceived to be in greater need.

My whole life grieving those who have suffered an addiction – and on top of that, likely who have been judged for it – when they are human beings doing all they know how do to do cope with a world that doesn’t make sense.  His name is Leonard, by the way.  He came from the trials and pain of immigration and abuse, earned a college degree, bought a home, and provided for a family of five. 

My whole life grieving for every person who has been abused at the hand of someone who needed to feel power over because without that, they feel less than themselves.  Her name is Angie, by the way.  She lived with daily threats from her abuser not only hurting her, but taking her children, harming her relatives, and killing her pets.  And when she left, she lived with the reality that 75% of domestic violence-related homicides occur upon separation. 

My whole life grieving for everyone who has ever experienced hatred or an “ism” because they are viewed as the other.  This is all of us, by the way.  Whether you are aware or not, you have been judged for some reason regardless of how rational.  And until we wake up to the fact that in terms of the things that really matter we are all the same, this will never change.

My whole life grieving for every animal who has been devalued, neglected, or abused because the thought of a being other than human having thoughts and feelings is a threat to our comfort and convenience – that it would require us to sacrifice certain pleasures that we now take for granted.  His name is Pater, by the way.  And despite being so used and abused by humans in a testing laboratory that he needed to be fed through a feeding tube, taught me more about compassion, resilience, and forgiveness than most humans ever could. 

My whole life grieving for every plant, flower, and tree that has been destroyed because we believe there is not enough.  Because we believe they are no value in relation to the misguided things we value.  Its name is the Amazon rain forest, by the way.  And despite being the approximate size of the lower 48 states, produces roughly 6 percent of the world’s oxygen – you know, the stuff we need to breathe. 

My whole life grieving for those who judge, condemn, and do whatever you can to assert power over others because you feel so small, unloved, unworthy, and flawed yourself.  His name is Donald Trump, by the way.  And as much as we hate him, there is a piece of him in all of us. 

My whole life grieving for the entire planet because we fail to see our connectedness and how any harm we do to her, we will ultimately do to ourselves.  That harm, by the way, is called the Coronavirus, and it is screaming at us to pay attention. 

My whole life grieving for the gifts and beauty that natures brings us every moment of every day but that we fail to see because it’s unfathomable for us to think we are not in control – that we are not pulling the strings.  Her name is mother, by the way.  And she will be here long after any of us, despite our grasping.

I have spent my whole life grieving for every person, animal, plant that has been devalued, demeaned, misunderstood – who has not experienced love and who has felt that they are not worthy or don’t belong.  Not because they are actually flawed, but because our systems are flawed.  You are the healthy and sane ones, by the way. 

If you are grieving the loss of “normal,” this is your wake-up call:  There was nothing “normal” about how we were living before. 

I will grieve for the messages we will not hear, the lessons we will not learn, despite such death and destruction.

I will grieve for those of us who have suffered before the pandemic and for those of us who will suffer after pandemic.  I will grieve for us.

But I have spent my whole life grieving.  So, no.  I am not grieving now.             

I will continue to spend the rest of my life grieving.