Something is in the air. So many people I know, who don't even know each other, are in a funk, and not the George Clinton variety. They are emotionally exhausted and just plain sad. Right now they have trouble believing that what they do matters. Each one has situations to explain this--there's always a situation to pin it on--but I see it as synchronicity. What is the universe trying to tell us, I wonder? And when will the message quiet down a bit and give my friends some peace?
Some see it as finally reaching the Age of Aquarius. There may be something to that. We are needing to reach out to each other for love and support in ways we never did before. We are concerned about our future, individually and as a whole. And some of us are feeling as rambunctious as teenagers.
Whatever this state is, I am experiencing a slight case myself. While I believe things will work out, I still feel the blows. I feel them when the culture around me is giving me a message that makes no sense: the idea that I am simply a button to be pressed, a robot with a single directive and no other purpose, and that I should not question what I am told, because that means I would be a machine that doesn't do what it's supposed to do. That is a not-exactly-polite way of calling me broken, just for having independent thoughts.
I am not broken. I am Goddess. And so are you. We don't just live life. We are life. Existence counts for something in itself. You matter for reasons that have nothing to do with your abilities and accomplishments. You are a warm soulful animal. You are lightning. You cannot be bottled and sold. You cannot be ignored, not in any way that matters.
I am telling you the truth, because I need to hear it too. And if I don't have someone handy to say these things to me, I can write them down and read them any time I need them.
These days, we need to be reminded who and what we are. It's not that these times are so different from any other times, only that we need the reminder now. Some of us have been in a dark and cold place during what is supposed to be one of the brightest and warmest phases of the year. The warmth is bringing weeds and flowers alike through every impossible obstacle to greet the sun; the sea is suddenly so full of fierce and mysterious lives. So how can we be frozen?
Maybe it's not a matter of temperature, or temperament for that matter. Maybe it's all about motion. We've been standing or sitting (or bending over) for so long we got cramped up.
Any kind of motion, within reason, would be preferable to staying in that mentality of Obey, Just Do It, Don't Rock the Boat. (The messages tend to be more subtle than that, or they wouldn't work.) These ideas, even when well intended, can block real thoughts and real action.
For an example, I could mention the doctor scene from Idiocracy, but I'd rather give you one from real life: 'Okay, José?' That one is from last millennium, when I worked at a small-town bakery. They told me to reach for yesterday's bread and pastries first, even if somebody specifically asked for today's.
'The customers can tell the difference,' I said. I got the rejoinder, 'Just tell them it's fresh.'
'Well, what if they ask if it was baked this morning?'
'Tell them it's fresh. Okay, José?'
I didn't stay there very long. The motion needed to happen, and it did.
And now I wonder, after many such motions in many facets of my life over the years: what are the Okay Josés in our lives today? What are we being asked to do without question, without thought, without regard for another human being, or ourselves, or the world?
And how do we flex what needs to be flexed and get all those knots out?