Looking in the Mirror

Spiritual Revelations for those seeking Humanity in Humans ~~CordieB.

Archive for racism

There Will Be Blood

The Blood Tree, courtesty of ~Ksaad, under a creative commons license

The Blood Tree, courtesty of ~Ksaad, under a creative commons license . Growing veins of sorrow and complications are the seeds that we have sown from our vengeance, hatred, racism, power and craving for more. So long for a cleanse.

There will be blood if we simply look the other way

There will be blood if we continue our lives the same way

There will be blood if the cycle of violence is not forsaken

There will be blood if a life for another life is taken

There will be blood if we continue to fight hatred with hate

There will be blood if we abandon solutions to rehabilitate  rejuvinate

There will be blood if we neglect to teach our young to love

There will be blood if we don’t love our neighbors, inspite of

There will be blood.

There will be more blood.

There wll be an endless,

forever increasing,

cycle of blood. . .

untill…

there is no more blood.

~Written by CordieB

Quote for the Day

Deep inside even the most seemingly evil of beings lies a seed of love; it is that seed we must strive to rejuvinate and  cultivate.  When we hate the evil, we only cultivate more hatred ~CordieB.

Peace, Light and Love… 

The Rock Cries Out to Us Today

©2007-2008 =alexiuss

In light of the upcoming election, the tensions of race, political, religion, sexuality and other issues that we allow to separate us; often destroy us — and after reading Paisley’s poem, fuerzas irresistibles , that reminded me of this one today, I simply had to share . . . . Both poems challenge us to look beyond our egos, prejustices, and other differences, look towards the rock, the river, the tree . . . oh how they must cry today; how sad they must be . . . .

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers–
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot…
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours–your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes,
Into your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
~Maya Angelou

 
 
 
 

 

OK, perhaps I’m prejustice about some things, but I’m working on it!

©2008 ~motherwarxx

 

Normally, I stick to poetry or art, but every so often, I write an opinion/article.  I had planned on writing a quasi-xrated poem today, but this morning after reading Angry African’s post on racism , I decided to speak out.  So, blame AA for my writhing this post instead of the quasi-xrated poem I intended to woo you with today.  In his post, AA admitted that he was a racist at one time, and didn’t even realize it.  I prefer to use the word prejustice in AA’s situation, rather than racist.  I think there is a difference . . . He gave us a scenario of how he passed up one hitchhiker without a second thought due their color, and thought about picking up another, because it was, perhaps, "a preferred color."   AA did not say which color he preferred.  I assumed when I first read this article that he gave more thought to picking up the white passenger than so the black passenger because AA is a white male.  But after further reflection, I really don’t know, because he is also an activitist who may have felt more passion towards a black man than a white.  I don’t know.  I hope he never tells.  The point is, racism is racism.  Why is it that he felt compelled to pick up one more so than the other based solely on the color of their skin?  AA challenged us to look at ourselves and admit to our own racisms.  This is something that we do not communicate about in mixed race situations.   Perhaps it is not PC to do so; perhaps we feel that we will offend someone.  But unless we look our actions and our thought patterns then the cycle of racism will continue.  Unless we selfexamine, we will not be compelled to eradiate these ignorant thoughts.  So I said to self, "Self, how am I racist." 

 

Racist Act No. One.   I don’t consider myself to be racist, but I suppose I have preferences based upon color.  Is that racist?  I prefer relationships with black men; I’ve never been attracted to white men.  Does that make me a racist?  Perhaps yes.  Because, truth be told, I’ve never ever considered trying such because of what’s been handed down to me by society, family and friends.  Oh, I’m perfectly acceptable of others in mixed race relationships; I have many friends who are married to people of a different race.  But me personally, I have never even given such a second thought.  Period. 

 

Racist Act No. Two.   Now here is another form of racism I have, similar to that of AA’s maybe, maybe not.  I’m walking down a dark street.  On one side of the street are two white men in business suits, on the other are two black men with hoodies and baggy jeans.  As a black female, which group would I feel more comfortable walking past?  Answer – The white men in business suits.  Crazy huh?  Racists huh?  True though.  This is due to what I’ve learned; what I see,  what I’m told by the media, not what I experience.  My thought pattern has nothing whatsoever to do with the people themselves; as I don’t even know these people.  I’ve never been mugged, I’ve never been raped.  I usually walk past either without any interaction whatsoever.  So what has given me this ignorant fear that I’d rather past two white men in business suits than two black men in hoodies and jeans.  It’s simply ignorant.  And, I have to consciously stop this train of ignorant thinking; because I’m passing on this bull to my daughters and sons, either consciously or unconsciously!   A recent study showed that black women would prefer to pass individuals on the street by race and gender in this order – (1) black female (2) white female (3) white male (4) black male.  The black male is last in the pecking order, even by the black female.  Don’t you find that somewhat disturbing.   I feel the same way, yet it is very, very disturbing.  What have I allowed to sink into my head?  What fears have manifested into my belief system?  Wow! 

 

The Irony of it All.   Now even though I would not  give a white male a second look in the prospect of marriage, I  would rather pass him than a black male   on a dark street!  Ain’t that ignorant!  Think about it! 

 

Peace, Light and Love . . . CordieB. 

 

P.S. Don’t tell anyone, but I thought that Angry African was a black man for weeks when I first started reading his blog – why?– Because he’s an Angry African Activitst!.  I’d stereotyped him too.  One day I looked up and I saw those beautiful piercing green eyes in the header and it was then that I looked deeper into what he was.  Not that it should make a difference, right?  Racism is pure ignorance!  We need to check ourselves!

A Spiritual Riddle – I Sometimes Guide you on your Journey . . .

 

______________________________________________________________

I’ve guided multitudes of earthly beings through many dark nights

I’ve been a beacon of hope for many a man lost in his flight

Although I’m quite illuminous, I have absolutely no light energy alone . . .

I’m blessed by the light of my brethren to co-create life from cold stone

As long as my universal family shines, then I shall shine too . . .

And I, in-turn, humbly reflect that ambiance of light unto you.

So I can aide you in finding your way from the lost journey afar

And  thus, you might illuminate another who may not know whom or where they are.

Like many, I sometimes have dreary days and nights when I feel so alone,

When I’m blocked from my light source by dark storm clouds of energy unknown.

I realise it’s all an illusion, for my light soure remains true, bright and clear

But when you’re lost in dark pastures, tis hard to let go the false fear.

So in today’s midnight, I remind you even a blind man can see the light bright,

For they are not blinded by false perceptions of absense of love’s light.

You see, the blind see beauty in realness . . . and truth without lies . . .

They don’t look for false answers in the suns, moons or skies . . .

They feel warmth in kindness, compassion and love . . .

In darkness, they are guided by inner awareness, not from detachments thereof;

They love, hate or feel indifference to us for ourselves in the mist of life’s rugged race . . .

They most brilliantly  see the love in our hearts–in spite of our physical face!

Visionless, they see the hatred in our hearts, in spite of physical beauty

Like a blind child or man, we should all stress to make it our duty . . .

To look into the true hearts of children, women, and men . . .

See all people as they really are, not pre-judge by their hair, face or skin.

But you needn’t close your eyes to see the light . . .

You can have 20/20 vision and still use your insight . . .

If you’ve accepted and embraced the blessing of inner vision and true clarity

Then you understand, I once was lost but now I’m found; was blind but now I see.

But alas, I will guide you in your journey, it won’t be too late or too soon . . .

I’m a luminous guide in life’s dark forrest, I am simply . . . . (click below for answer)

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