Perhaps it’s because it’s a Tuesday evening and everyone who isn’t working a night shift somewhere is probably at home in bed. The night tonight is silent.
I imagine those who are just getting back to work this week, their job resurrected by their state or county ‘moving to yellow’ – or perhaps even ‘green’ (albeit not around here) – are reeling a bit from the unfamiliar chafe of resuming their old routines.
The past 11 weeks or so have proven uncomfortable for many of us. Initial binges on bread, Netflix, and puzzles actually, maybe, gave way to a gradual unraveling of the knot that’s resided in our gut for longer than we can remember. Perhaps we actually were getting the chance, for once, to sit with that knot for a bit and start picking at it. Loosening the restrictions. We began untying it ourselves.
Oh Those Retrogrades
There’s definitely a comfort to resuming old habits. The rhythm. The routine. The sense, real or imagined, that we have control over our lives. Or at least some dominion over our unique piece of real estate in what we collectively experience as our reality.
But now that we’re back to work, how does it feel? Has the extended time spent away from the mundane made the mundane feel any more or less compelling? I’m asking completely without judgment, just wondering if your job feels like a welcome relief or a much bigger oppression than it did 11 weeks ago.
With four major planets retrograde right now, our arms are being twisted to review, reassess, and remember. We’re being asked to look at what we’re doing and how we feel about doing it.
How did we feel when we thought, however fleetingly, that we might never return to our job? Does it feel as though we’re putting on an old, comfortable slipper when we return to work? Or have our feet spread out a bit, connected barefoot with the Earth while we were off, and now refuse to fit comfortably in those work shoes?
Grackle Persists
What jumped out at you in Grackle’s message last night? Are your emotions congested? Is there a situation in your life that you realize right now is keeping you stuck, trapped, or disempowered? Perhaps it isn’t your work that’s hindering your breath but another aspect of your life.
Perhaps you’re just supposed to stop talking (to yourself or everyone else) and act.
To be honest with you, I’m still reflecting on the myriad ways in which Grackle’s message dips in, pulls out, circles around, and braids an amazing tapestry of interconnection between my mundane life and the stuff the rest of the world is confronting.
The night tonight is silent. No crickets, no peepers, no bullfrogs nor owls. No foxes screaming or raindrops splattering. No wind whooshing through freshly unfurled leaves.
Just silence. My thoughts. And a willingness to dream a new reality into being.
Knowing a good thing when they’ve found it, several grackles continued to frequent our feeders today. While they did become a bit petulant and mouthy as the afternoon grew long and the peanut coil emptied, this only reinforced my commitment to sharing with you the message of Grackle Medicine – Part 2!
And so it was that, when I checked my trusted and dog-eared copy of Ted Andrews’s Animal Speak*, the entry for Grackle made my jaw drop. I will synopsize here:
Grackle –
Keynote: Overcoming Excess and Emotional Life Congestion – Cycle of Power: Early Spring
Although the grackle is often considered part of the blackbird family, along with crows and starlings, it actually is not. It is part of the meadowlark and oriole family of birds. It is a large black bird with an extra-long tail. About its head and shoulders are iridescent feathers that change from blue to green to purple or bronze, depending on the light.
This coloring often reflects a need for those to whom the grackle comes to look at what is going on in their life differently. It says that situations are not what they appear to be and you may not be looking at them correctly – particularly anything dealing with the emotions.
Keep in mind that black is the color of the inner and the feminine. The purple and bronze coloring about the head especially usually indicates that emotions are coloring our thinking process. The grackle can help us to correct this.
During courting season, the male grackle will fold its tail, creating a diamond-like trough. This diamond shape is often reflective of activation. It hints at a need to become active in regards to emotional situations. Have we been too passive in our emotions? Are we simply rehashing and talking about them without doing anything to correct the emotional situations of our life? The grackle is a noisy, chattering bird and may be a reminder to quit talking and do something.
(…)
Grackles have inside their mouths on the hard palate a keel which helps them cut open acorns and eat them. We have often heard the expression, “It’s a tough nut to crack.” Well, this reflects the role a grackle can serve as a totem. Dealing constructively with our emotions and those people and things in our life which aggravate them can be a tough nut to crack. The grackle can show us how to do this.
Grackles love to live in pine trees. Pine trees are very therapeutic to emotional states. In a form of homeopathic medicine known as flower essences, the essence of pine can be used to help alleviate strong emotional states, particularly feelings of guilt. Again this reflects the grackle showing up as a sign to help you clear the emotions.
Emotions that are not dealt with can congest our life, aggravating or even creating congestion in the body at some level. The grackle can serve as a warning to be careful of this possibility, but it can also help show us how to prevent it from occurring. The droppings of grackles can serve to culture fungi which, if the wind blows, can cause a pneumonia-like infection.**
Most illness is symbolic. Congestion, especially pneumonia-like in appearance, can tell us that we are holding in our emotions. It can reflect a suppressed crying or a refusal to deal with certain long-standing problems and issues. (Have we neglected situations, giving them time to be cultured?) It can reflect a refusal to take in new life and new approaches to life, and so we become congested with old emotions.
The grackle shows us how to handle this. It can teach the proper expression of emotions. They can show us where excesses are dissipating our life force and facilitating a congestion of growth and movement. They can teach how to get back to creative and beneficial experiences and expressions of emotion.”
Grackle sampling – Photo: L. Weikel
So Many Take-Aways
Hmm. Wow. A lot of the information contained in this entry set bells a-ringing and whistles a-blowing for me.
First of all, who can deny that emotional overload hasn’t been an increasingly powerful factor in our lives as Covid-19 took root in our country? Since none of us have faced anything like this pandemic in our lifetime, we don’t have a first-hand frame of reference with which to deal with it. So our emotions are all over the place. And when we don’t know what to do with them, they clog up our systems; we become congested with emotion.
Secondly, I had to laugh at the admonition: “The grackle is a noisy, chattering bird and may be a reminder to quit talking and do something.” Umm, yeah. Point taken. Indeed, I think we’re all realizing the importance of action over words. Social distancing. Wearing face masks. We either do it or we don’t.
Biggest Confluence of Meaning
But almost immediately, I see how much more Grackle’s message applies in a cultural sense, in light of the George Floyd/Black Lives Matter eruption over the past two weeks. Indeed, it was easy to draw parallels between our current social experience vis-à-vis guilt and facing hard emotional lessons (tough nuts to crack) in the first several paragraphs.
But I nearly fell over when both the trauma of the pandemic and the trauma of systemic racism in our nation dovetailed in the paragraphs on illness. It is as if Grackle was signaling me with flares and sirens that our current experiences are a perfect storm for transformation. We must process our emotions instead of deflecting and burying and denying them as we have, as a culture, for 400 years.
The pandemic is a symptom of the guilt and shame we carry, collectively, over the shameful act of exploiting others based on the color of their skin. And this infection is, in a sense, carried on the wind (which is why face masks protect us all), yet the brutality and inhumanity we are confronting now has been carried on the winds of time.
A Lot to Contemplate
I’ve read this information by Ted Andrews over and over since I finally succumbed to Grackle’s insistence that I pay attention. And I keep gleaning additional perspectives and tidbits of information that can help us all navigate this cultural storm.
Probably one of the most important concepts we can all apply to our experiences at this point is something one of my most beloved teachers, Puma Fredy Quispe Singona, suggested in a FB broadcast today: We must take care of ourselves as we deal with these great changes. And beyond that, we must remember that Mother Earth is here for us. She wants to support us; she loves us; she stands with us; and she is always there to ‘back us up.’
Grackle – Yum – Photo: L. Weikel
*affiliate link
**Clement, Roland C. The Living World of Audubon (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, 1974) p. 254.
I never cease to be amazed by the messages, guidance, and insight I receive from Mother Earth and her many children. Case in point: as I’ve mentioned recently, I’ve been indulging my feathered friends by religiously filling my peanut coil every day – in fact, sometimes twice a day, lately. There are some furred visitors who are also indulging (squirrels, opossums, raccoons), but other than the squirrels, the rest sneak around under cover of darkness! What I totally didn’t expect to learn about, however, was Grackle medicine.
I’ve seen grackles at our feeders every year. They didn’t tend to congregate at our feeders in any great numbers, and I never found them to be so remarkable that I considered them to be messengers of any sort. I can’t say I ever thought much about them other than to be slightly creeped out by their cold, yellow eyes that always seem to stare vacantly.
But this year is different.
Move Over Blue Jays
You may recall that Blue Jay seemed to be vying for my attention several weeks ago, leaving me feathers in many different venues and congregating at my feeders – especially the peanut coil. They seemed to be seeking my attention, so I did my best to follow up and listen to what they had to say to me.
Well, I must report that the blue jays and I are continuing to have a dynamic relationship, and they are quite demonstrative in their displeasure when I fail to refill the peanut coil fast enough. They’re also nudges. And I’m the first to admit – I respond to nudging (usually). Ok, sometimes.
Since around the beginning of April or so, more and more grackles started showing up in our yard. I’ve been watching them cultivate remarkable skills at peanut extraction. And they don’t seem to be bothered by my presence in the least. For the past two weeks or so, as I’ve noticed their numbers increasing, I’ve had the fleeting thought that I should ‘look them up.’ But I admit, as soon as I walked into the house, I’d forget the grackles completely.
Why? Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the upset of watching a pandemic spread across the world and take hold in our country with a vengeance. The stress of watching a virus that’s highly contagious and can easily be spread by asymptomatic carriers first be ignored by our government, then politicized. And then the horror of witnessing a man’s life callously snuffed out at the knee of a police officer, setting off a cultural upheaval over the systemic racism in our country and the scourge of police brutality. A pandemic within a pandemic. Yeah, I forgot to research Grackle for too many days.
But I digress.
Messengers?
Just yesterday, I again remarked to Karl that I think there’s something up with the grackles. I’d just watched one ever so carefully remove a peanut from the coil, take flight, dodge branches of bushes and trees, veer along our neighbor’s driveway, hang a right over our road and fly all the way past three more houses to an intersection. It would appear we’re feeding a massive population of grackles, including ones that don’t even live adjacent to our home. Clearly the grackle population is making a point to congregate at our house.
When a jillion of anything start to show up in my environment, I pay attention. Eventually. And yes, I’ll admit it – grackles are not a bird I would ordinarily wax poetic over. Did I mention their creepy yellow eyes? And they’re not particularly colorful, either, though I seem to recall them in others years having some striking iridescence on their shoulders. But the ones around here lately have definitely been non-descript. So I’ve been a bird snob. There. I admit it.
But they persisted, I’ll give them that. Not only did they keep showing up, but their numbers started increasing. And they were irritating, truth be told, with their harsh chuck chuck vocalization and, as described in Peterson’s Field Guide, “split rasping note” that, to my ear sounds like a scree!. Just this past week, I wondered aloud to Karl whether Grackle would even be covered in any of my books. Part of me thought they were surely too mundane to have their own entry. (I told you, I’ve been being a jerk of a bird snob. It’s a wonder they even deigned to continue vying for my attention.)
Let my resistance be an object lesson. Never underestimate the power of Mother Earth to simply wow us with her insight and guidance.
We met this lovely creature on our walk yesterday. It seemed like the perfect messenger for the day of the full moon and a lunar eclipse, for Frog’s message is almost always, in some way, shape, or form, “Clean out!”
It only makes sense, when we just take a look around us. We’re doing our best to clean out our belief systems – regarding racial inequities, justice, policing, transparency, solidarity, just to name a few. We’re realizing that the old ways of thinking and living with each other in a so-called civil society need to be overhauled if we’re going to survive another 200 years. Or maybe even just another two.
Seems to me that the lore surrounding a lunar eclipse – that it forces us to look at what’s been hidden from view, perhaps ideas or emotions or beliefs that we’ve even hidden from ourselves – is impacting everyone on the planet right now, but especially us here in the U.S.
Such beautiful markings – Photo: L. Weikel
Decision Time
It seems to me, then, that when we look, when we dare to uncover the stuff that maybe we feel a bit of shame over or discomfort, or possibly even guilt for feeling or thinking or believing, we need to take it one step further. We need to make a decision.
We need to decide: do these beliefs truly serve me? Does believing them make my life better? Do I honestly feel happier or proud of myself for holding on to these beliefs?
And if our answer is no to any of these questions, we need to clean out.
Today at 3:12 p.m. EDT, the moon was full. The Old Farmer’s Almanac refers to a full moon in June as the Full Strawberry Moon. With strawberries ripening and becoming abundantly available at farm stands and grocery stores, we can safely guess where this moon got its name.
Today also marked a partial lunar eclipse. The significance of this eclipse will remain to be revealed. (Ha ha – that’s sort of a play on the fact that eclipses tend to be revelatory in the sense that things that have been hidden for a long time, often even from ourselves, tend to be revealed by an eclipse.) But seriously, we can certainly see this playing out on a macro level – throughout our country – and on a micro level, if we’re honest with ourselves and really look at the state of our marriages, lives, other relationships, and careers.
What is being revealed to us now?
Last Eclipse
The last such lunar eclipse this year occurred at the beginning of January. It also occurred on a Friday – January 10th, 2020, to be exact.
You might want to go back to your journals and check out what was going on for you back then. Was anything hidden, unexpected, or of import revealed to you on or around that date? I have to say, that eclipse was one of the most stunning ones I’ve experienced, when it came to revelations about people’s natures that totally blindsided me. Profound trust was startlingly dashed.
And on a global level, here’s an article that can, in hindsight, give us all pause.
Entering Eclipse ‘Season’
As significant as the revelations were that came on and around the lunar eclipse in January of this year, I have to uneasily wonder what’s in store for all of us over the next month. That’s because, not only did we experience another lunar eclipse today (if partial – and not visible in North America), we have a solar eclipse to look forward to that will occur on the same day as the summer solstice (June 21st), promising an even greater impact, and then yet another lunar eclipse on July 5th.
Bing, bang, boom.
I’m not suggesting that we pay attention to eclipse season – and in particular this eclipse season – in order to generate fear. Rather, my intention is the opposite. I’m simply offering some information that, if we pay attention to it, will perhaps in some small way, prepare us for the unexpected.
Let’s face it, world wide, we’ve been getting curve balls hurled at us. But here in the United States, in particular, we’re dodging a virtual onslaught of major life, values, and reality upheavals.
Expect the Unexpected
It’s really tough to expect the unexpected. But there is good reason for all of us not to assume that ‘the worst is over,’ or ‘things are getting back to normal.’ Actually, there are many good reasons not to make such assumptions, beyond the adage pertaining to assumptions in general.
If there was ever a time in our lives to keep a journal, I’d say this is it.
I’m encouraging you, then, to beef up your discipline and dedication to writing about what’s going on in your life at this time. Be as specific and thorough as possible. If nothing else, it could end up being a fascinating reflection on how – or even if – you can see a correlation between events in your personal life, events on a local or national or global scale, and our experience of the three eclipses of June/July 2020.
Here I am, sitting on the couch with the television off, the front door open, and the deep calm of steady rain helping me forget. Indeed, I contemplate writing about that very thing: how the actual sound of rain falling just outside my door and the cool breeze being drawn inside by the whole house fan combine to create a peace much more tangible than the app advertised on tv. And then, just like that, my calm evening transforms into an eerie one.
Lightning is flashing in the distance, but there is no thunder. My reverie is disturbed by a deep rumbling that I feel before even hearing it. It sounded like a massive diesel engine – one belonging to a very heavy truck, probably a fire engine. But it sounded like it was moving slowly. I raised my head and sure enough, the raindrops splattered on our windows cast kaleidoscopic red flashes as the whirling lights of a fire engine practically creeping toward our house illuminated the trees arcing over the rain soaked roadway.
Silence
Other than the ground-shaking vibrations of the vehicle itself, the behemoth was silent. The rotating lights chased each other across my neighbor’s lawn and into the woods across the road, and I imagined the firemen leaning forward in their seats to read the numbers on our mailboxes. What else would cause them to drive up our road ever so slowly, yet silently, with lights flashing? Lights that could surely awaken any light sleepers among us.
For a moment, I thought in a panic, “Are they looking for us? Do I smell smoke?” Weird how you can question your own perceptions when confronted with an experience you’re totally not expecting. “Oh my God! What if one of our neighbors was struck by lightning?!”
I tossed my laptop aside and darted outside, hastily unlatching the screen door to see if they were going to stop at our next door neighbors’ home. No, they kept going and eventually made their way to the end of our road, where I thought I saw them turn their lights off.
False alarm.
Settling Back In
Settling myself back on the sofa, I realized how much my train of thought (and peace of mind) had been thrown off by the passing of the eerie fire engine. I logged back in (because of course the laptop had gone into sleep mode as I investigated this odd event) and started contemplating yet again the subject of tonight’s post, the blessing of a steady rainstorm, when all of a sudden I felt the approach, once again, of the lumbering beast.
What? They’d actually turned the fire engine around at the intersection, only to make another flashing light pass up our road again?
Tossing my laptop aside, I ran to the front door only to witness, yet again, this massive engine creeping slowly along our road. Suddenly, just past our house, the driver put the metal to the pedal and picked up speed. I darted outside to see whether it turned toward High Rocks or the river, but the branches of our trees are now so thick with life that the truck – and the lights – disappeared from my view almost immediately.
No Sirens
I never did hear sirens. The fire engine never passed our way again – at least not yet. Not in the time it’s taken me to write this post.
But the rain has subsided and all I hear now is the rushing of the water in the tiny creek across the road that always flows fast when we have a lot of rain. It’s not overflowing, but it is running fast.
The silence of the fire engine juxtaposed with the urgency of the flashing lights was weird and unsettling. Eerie, in an odd sort of way.
It’s hard to explain. Perhaps it’s just a sign of the times.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m finding the task of ‘keeping it together’ exhausting.
And the weird thing is, it’s not as if I can feel my energy and resilience being drained in any given moment. No. Instead of creating a bodily tiredness that stems from sustained, productive physical effort, such as mowing a lawn or digging a garden, this exhaustion is mental, emotional, and energetic.
As a result, the profound weariness – at least as I’m experiencing it – sneaks up on me when I least expect it. It’s as if one moment I’m chugging along just fine and the next moment I’m struggling to take one more step up the steep hill we encounter every day during our walk.
Looking to Sheila
“What in the world’s the matter with me?” I wonder out loud. The expression on Karl’s face tells me he’s feeling it as well. We look to Sheila, ever the faithful hound, to save us. She happily (if obliviously) obliges, standing in the middle of the road halfway up the hill to take a breather. We kid ourselves that we’re stopping for Sheila, but we both know it’s as much for us as it is for her.
At the crest of the hill, the land flattens out and we’re greeted to the familiar expanse of the meadows where we often encounter the somewhat aloof horse that resides there. Sheila wastes no time picking up the pace that’s impressive, frankly. We wonder where she gets her energy and spunk at 15 years and 9 months. Yikes. Do the math.
It’s Everything, Of Course
Keeping it together in the midst of a global pandemic that some believe is a ‘hoax’ and thus refuse to inconvenience themselves enough to even wear a mask that might protect both us and them is a stress. Add to that the horror of watching our country cry out in pain only to be met by the angry fist of a petty, insecure tyrant. And then, lurking at the back of all of our minds is the question of whether the coronavirus is spreading like wildfire as thousands upon thousands of us march and gather in protest to the corrosive effects of systemic racism and abuse of power.
Efforts are made to practice social distancing and the vast majority wear masks…but still. The crowds are massive in some cities. The risk is huge. The price of demanding justice may become stunningly dear.
Yeah, it’s exhausting. But this is when we need to tap into our reserves. We need to drop into our core and remember what we treasure most in life. We need to find our own unique, spiritual center of calm resolve and strength. What color is it? What does it look like? Is it a place? A feeling? A knowing?
Hmm. Good questions for pondering in these volatile times.
I might be exhausted now, but I’m going to permit myself to sleep. Rest up. You should, too. We’re going to need our wits about us in the days ahead.
I encountered a Being just the other day, and I wanted to share my discovery with you. The whole situation evolved a bit oddly. As Karl and I approached an intersection we pass nearly every day, I felt a strange sense as I walked past a relatively new telephone pole beside the road.
It felt as if, when I looked at the pole with my peripheral vision, there was ‘something’ wanting to come forward; something wanting to be seen.
It was such a strong sense, that after I walked past the telephone pole, I felt compelled to turn around, walk back, and pass it a second time. Nevertheless, nothing popped out at me when I returned to the pole, and I just laughed when I described my feeling to Karl.
“Nope. I don’t know why I went back. I really thought I’d glimpsed something out of the corner of my eye,”
“An Ent?” Karl teased, riffing on my blog post of a few nights earlier.
“No,” I scowled. “Maybe. Shut up,” I added, feeling a bit goofy.
The truth was, I might’ve sense something, but it wasn’t there now.
Pole Wizard – Photo: L. Weikel
Three Nights Later
Cut to our walk three nights later. We’d missed two days of walking due to weather, but we insisted on walking this evening.
I’d forgotten all about that weird telephone pole encounter – until I walked past it again. This time, though, the image jumped out at me so obviously, it gave me goose bumps.
Tell me you don’t see the Pole Wizard, with his long flowing beard, looking a bit freaked out, in fact, in the photo below. He’s definitely there. Part of the tree from which the telephone pole was fashioned, and perhaps wondering “How did I ever end up here?”
Silence is Violence & My Heart Hurts – Photo: L. Weikel
My Heart Hurts
You know from my recent posts that the slow, deliberate, and unwarranted killing (murder) of George Floyd in Minneapolis one week ago today – on Memorial Day – has haunted me. And of course I know I am not alone. The depraved manner in which that police officer coldly and nonchalantly pressed his knee onto the back of Mr. Floyd’s neck until his life was snuffed out felt like a straw that broke our country’s back. My heart hurts.
I only heard about the protest scheduled for the center of Doylestown (Bucks County’s county seat) at 11:00 a.m. this morning, but Karl and I managed to get there by the appointed start time of 1:00 p.m. The crowd seemed to still be growing over an hour and a half after the protest began.
Taking a Knee – Photo: L. Weikel
Taking a Knee
I have to say, I had a hard time joining in on any of the chants. Every time I opened my mouth to raise my voice in protest, that voice failed me. It cracked quite pathetically as I was overcome with a depth of emotion that welled up within me. I felt overcome by the enormity of the injustice and cruelty that’s inflicted on our fellow Americans, just because their skin is darker than mine. How utterly absurd.
One of the most powerful moments, for me, was when the crowd of over (at least) 100 people collectively took a knee and simply held several minutes of sustained silence. It seemed as though even the traffic was muted. The silence was eerie and profound.
A Lovely Moment
I happened to look behind me at one point and was given the gift of witnessing a lovely moment of helping hands and kindness. I’ll let the photo speak for itself.
Loving Helping Hands – Photo: L. Weikel
Support and Solidarity
As traffic continued to flow through the center of town, the vast majority of cars and trucks honked their horns and waved their hands in support, eliciting applause and whoops of solidarity and hope from the protesters filling the square and lining the sidewalks along both sides of Main Street and Court Street. (By the time we left, I’m pretty sure there were at least 200-250 people in attendance.)
And then we engaged in the part of the protest that was, without question, the most profound for me. Everyone who was able chose to lay prone on the cobblestones or concrete before them. We assumed the position that George Floyd was forced to endure and we maintained that position for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Many of my fellow protesters called out, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”
“I can’t breathe” – Photo: L. Weikel
I Wept
Yet again, I found myself incapable of joining in with my voice. Instead, I will admit it: I wept. Hot tears flooded into the Covid-mask I wore, and I did indeed find my breath stifled and thick. But the sadness. The sadness just rocked my body as I allowed myself to even for one moment imagine the depth of Mr. Floyd’s fear and pain and disbelief that his life would end in that moment. For what? For nothing. While passersby yelled for his murderers to stop, the pressure continued. Unrelenting. Until it was over. And even then, the pressure continued. Just to make sure, I guess.
Why? Because he was black. Because he was at the mercy of those with the power. Because they could.
The wanton abuse of power in our nation must end. We must use our power to establish much needed and long awaited justice. Vote.
If you live in Pennsylvania, and you haven’t already done it by mail, exercise your power today (Tuesday, June 2, 2020) – and especially in November.
All of us have probably seen more than our share of protests and violence, rage and misunderstanding and, well, murder over the last few days. As my small contribution to enhancing life in my little corner of the world, I’d like to offer a smattering of links that provide a more hopeful perspective on what’s unfolding. Just in case you missed them.
Justice
In the area of potentially increasing the likelihood that justice may actually be served in the matter of George Floyd’s death, just this evening Minnesota Governor Tim Walz announced that the state’s Attorney General, Keith Ellison, will be taking the lead in the prosecution(s) that stem from this case.
This feels like a wise decision for everyone concerned, in my opinion. There is an inherent conflict of interest in all cases in which a local District Attorney is expected to be responsible for prosecuting police officers within the same jurisdiction that they work together in almost all criminal cases. Indeed, it seems to me that appointment of an independent prosecutor should be mandatory in all cases involving police misconduct, and especially police brutality. Such a move shows sensitivity to the perception of fairness that is so critical in the administration of justice.
Perspective of Understanding
If you or someone you know struggles at all with understanding why the slow and deliberate killing of George Floyd has sparked such a profound and gut-wrenching response in so many people across the country (and the world, actually), the Daily Show’s Trevor Noah provides a deeply thoughtful and sensitive explanation. Even if you do ‘get it,’ I encourage you to take the eight minutes or so out of your day to watch this.
Listening and Partnership
While the antagonism and clashes may get the most attention, there are so many truly wonderful people serving our communities as police officers. Those are the ones who are ashamed of the actions of those violent few who seem to have no respect for black and brown people in particular. Check this article out for a taste of communities where listening is taking place and new relationships and partnerships are being forged out of the darkness that has dominated our country for too long.
Community Compassion
Finally, beyond all the stories of protesters and varied members of communities coming together to clean up after the destruction and devastation wrought as a result of when the protests have become violent and destructive (almost always after dark, when insidious elements have descended upon protests with malicious intentions), there are stories like this. Check out what’s happening in Minneapolis over the past few days.
Sending out ripples of love. Let’s all do what we can to promote and maintain a hopeful perspective.
May healing and profound and lasting systemic reform result from the senseless murder of George Floyd – and all those who have been killed in similar racist circumstances before him.
