and yet, the sun rises
It’s March 1st, and I am itching for Spring to begin. After several weeks of snowstorms, belowing-freezing temperatures, and these eclipses, I am so ready to feel the warmth of the sun and humid air. It’s imperative.
But I must be honest, this winter was not restful for me. I’ve been working. I have been trying to make this white man's money—and when I wasn’t, I was running around the thirteen colonies as if I were on the run. I am beat. And there’s something about Spring that screams “lie in an open field and take a nap while listening to the bees,” that I am just itching to give in to.
For the majority of February I have been questioning why any of this is necessary. Call it existential, call it ‘woke’, it may be anarchist, whatever, who cares? But I have been in complete confusion as to why we strive so much for material gain and to represent ourselves through monetary value. Don’t get me wrong, I am materialistic. I like nice things, and I pay for nice things… but why are we as people, as Black people, as people of Spirit and dignity, striving to make millions or billions when we will only see thousands that feel like hundreds.
From a historical and anthropological standpoint, I get it. I’ll address this topic in further detail in another post later this month, but I do understand why Black people, people of color, and immigrants strive to make businesses and to achieve financial freedom in the context of the United States. (Hint: the answer is capitalism) (in short).
Yet, from a Spiritual perspective, I don’t quite get why so many people are asleep. In some capcity my brain feels as if I’m searching around a foggy field looking for someone, anyone, to come save me from impending doom. I speak with friends, and their acknowledgement of our political climate haunts me. Not many are acknowledging what is happening, and if they are, no one is acknowledging the lengths it will take to stop what is happening. They are scared and want to hold out for a hero to save the day. Shit, maybe I am too. But I have to be real with myself and know that there is no individualized hero when genocide, pedophilia, and racism are involved. No. The hero is the collective, and even if we are afraid, we must not let that fear consume us and paralyze us into contempt due to the horrors of the world.
I am ready for Spring. This is not the end of the world, as the world has kept spinning during worse times. But I am ready for Spring. Not just the season but the beginning of a new way of living. A new reality that is promised of peace and relaxation.
If you are someone who wants to take action, have thoughts concerning the state of the world, or simply want to let your imagination run wild in hopes of a brighter day, submit your art here. This collection of manifestos, poems, and creative pieces will be physically distributed to those outside of this platform. Consider it.
