HEAL

the dogma

Image by Alessio Soggetti | Unsplash

Take my mind and take my pain
Like an empty bottle takes the rain
And heal, heal, heal, heal
And take my past and take my sins
Like an empty sail takes the wind
And heal, heal, heal, heal
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
Take my heart and take my hand
Like an ocean takes the dirty sand
And heal, heal, heal, heal
And take my mind and take my pain
Like an empty bottle takes the rain
And heal, heal, heal, heal
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last

- Tom Odell


“Politics matters. But, by design, it often obscures the common humanity that drives most of us.”  -  Glenn Greenwald

I live to create. And through it, I heal.

Everything I do, I try to do as an offering to my Creator. A thank you, an honest conversation, a unique take on something — the art of being myself and no one else. As I age I don’t care what anyone else thinks about that. Every single time I publish a new piece several people almost instantly unsubscribe. I can visualize the forefinger smacking the button. And in a way it’s exciting due to the fact that subjectivity is extremely important. I remember the first time I submitted an image to a contest at the Jr. College I was attending back in 2001. We were told “both color and black and white” would be accepted under certain themes. I submitted a color image. Strangely, the judges only selected black and white images as top winners in every single category. Wow, they all woke up that morning on the wrong side of color I thought.

Were you satisfied with your work? Could you improve? Shoot more black and white next time? or go home and be happy with yourself. Contests are excruciatingly frustrating. Every judge is as unique as the work presented to them.

Subjectivity: Not everyone wakes up and likes color that day. Not everyone wants to read a poem on your Substack. Or even likes poetry. Get on with reality, uniformity. Not everyone hears the same, sees the same or likes variety. We are not being called to “get in line or lockstep” with people who don’t appreciate us. We are being called to do ourselves. Period. Doesn’t matter where in the world you live. In God’s Kingdom, Earth’s Kingdom, World, we are ourselves or we are nothing.

My heart says “don’t stop.” I am also acutely aware the alternative is locked away in a pandemic box of wagging fingers, others telling me not to bother to come for Thanksgiving, freely touching my face, pulling my mask up for me (higher than I had it in order to breath and see through my glasses), “separate parties,” in driveways (isolating us to those that wanted to be with us and those that didn’t), and an overall lack of desire to live during that time.

I have never had a problem with other people’s “choices.” I am not arrogant. I never criticized, laughed, uninvited, name-called, etc. I plainly made a decision for myself. For my one life. I was not a “true believer” of Big Pharma and Government due to previous experience. I had a right to this experience. Everyone’s reasons for their decisions hold value to them. I do not walk in your shoes.

In contrast to controlling others, and what I can do, I can pray and give thanks for the safety and health of my family and friend’s. I can do this all day long if I choose.

We can respect each other. We can agree to disagree.

Or can we?

While I am seeing a great revival spreading around the world, a relinquishing of control, a spiritual letting go, trusting in the process — I am also feeling a deeper volcanic dogma growing. Sadly, it’s everywhere. Especially in families. Including mine.

The willingness to set everything on fire. It’s personal, judgmental, label twisting and full of afterthoughts like “hey, that was meant to insult.” It’s painful beyond words and the end result is you actually stay in an unsustainable relationship trying to hold onto bits and pieces of your soul. Sadly, my husband’s mom was an expert at this. In the end she was very isolated and alone. Everyone was afraid to be in her company for fear you might talk about the weather and some kind of crazy would come of it. This is what happens when we are dogmatic. I have learned why my husband protects his heart.

If I can accept you for who you are, why can’t you accept me? Isn’t that the main question? Does it mean we have to be besties? no

Personally, I like being in more than a bubble of similarities. I like the diversity of learning. It’s in my blood. I will stay around long after you have left. We all know nothing, except what’s right before us. We know what we see. And if I could choose seeing versus hearing — I would choose seeing — an intuitive guttural utterance.

And what of the highly diverse family? I watch as one family member torches another on the digital warpath. Familiar behavior. Divisive, triangulating. It’s not direct, but it is. And it is definitely not of good character. None of my business.

How do we keep our families intact? Is someone fuming over us without our realizing, yet feeling like there’s a deep disconnect, a surface level engagement, every time we are together? How long can this go on? It’s nothing new. During World War 2, my British family were just as torn over topics of politics, war, health, social issues, etc. A comical pile of conservatives, liberals, atheists, religious, etc., and very diverse characters. At holiday gatherings there would be talking, yelling, varying opinions. One Christmas gathering my auntie stood up on a stool and told everyone they could get lost if they couldn’t be kind to her gay son. The next thing you knew, it was time to gather round the piano. Everyone stayed. In a quiet end round of keeping family intact, moving toward the upright, sherry in hand, the keys pounded, as they sang their way forward. Let it be. Don’t burn it all down.

And when dad said the three of us are moving to America, they all came to say goodbye. Tears, hugs and off we went. Opinions were given, but on that day, we were loved like the last opportunity to love on earth.

Push back with beauty and humility.

Be grateful. Pray.

Love like something much Bigger than yourself.

And tell me some things last…

It’s time to heal.

ox

In 23 seasons of American Idol, there have been plenty of gospel singers on the show. What made it different on April 28th 2025, is how it moved and rocked the core, not only of the audience, but catapulted some of the contestants/ singers into a spiritual realm undenied by the naked eye. Gospel singer Fantasia was the mentor. She put a fresh wind and fire into this particular segment that I have never witnessed on a mainstream show. I cried unexpectedly. Something truly special happened. It is happening.