Stand Up

“I have found that battling despair does not mean closing my eyes to the enormity of the tasks of effecting change, nor ignoring the strength and the barbarity of the forces aligned against us. It means teaching, surviving and fighting with the most important resource I have, myself, and taking joy in that battle. It means, for me, recognizing the enemy outside and the enemy within, and knowing that my work is part of our power, and knowing that this work did not begin with my birth nor will it end with my death. And it means knowing that within this continuum, my life and my love and my work has particular power and meaning relative to others. It means trout fishing on the Missisquoi River at dawn and tasting the green silence, and knowing that this beauty too is mine forever.” ~ Audre Lorde, The Cancer Journals

Are You a Fire Type, a Water Type, or a Gas Type? …And I’m Not Talking About Pokémon.

fire-vs-water

Sharing weaknesses is never easy.

It leaves you feeling vulnerable and feeble and the ego absolutely hates that.

The ego only wants to talk about the strengths, the victories, the accomplishments, etc.

…But meaning and fulfillment don’t come from feeding the ego – they come from feeding the soul.

…And it’s time for some soul food.

One of my weaknesses is that I’m exceedingly anti-confrontational.

In order to avoid a conflict, either verbally or physically, I’ll shut down, close my mouth and try and separate myself from the situation as fast as possible.

There have been times when I have chosen to remain silent about things that I believed to be wrong, unjust, or hurtful.

I was the bystander; the watcher; the one who becomes the gas for the fire of hate.

And it kills me inside to know I acted (or didn’t act) this way.

When it comes to making a difference in the world, you’re either a fire type, a water type, or a gas type.

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The Story of Kyle and How Little Actions Can Change Lives

The Story of Kyle

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him.

He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.”

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