On freeing myself mentally and spiritually (aka the myth of the blue pill)

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The Gratitude Project – Musing 15

I’m grateful for the ongoing process of freeing myself mentally and spiritually.

I have a long way to go of course.

For instance…

Freeing myself, say, from capitalist cultural values both complements and competes with my ongoing struggles to free myself from internalized sexism and patriarchy;

Which further complement and compete with my ongoing struggles to free myself from internalized racism and trauma;

Not to mention that gosh darn little decolonization of the mind thingy I have going on that just keeps kicking me in the balls.

Why oh why didn’t I just take the blue pill?

Oh, that’s why…

Because the blue pill is a fucking myth.

It was never an option for me.

Which is why I’m grateful for a mind and soul that yearns for love, liberation and all that hippie dippie shit;

(The rabbit hole might stink on occasion, but it’s still my home.)

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Today I feel like I can connect with a past life – TGP Musing 14.75

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The Gratitude Project – Musing 14.75

For the longest time, ever since I was a wee little one (you know, growing up in a post-colonial, commonwealth-English-speaking country where I imbibed paraphrases like “wee little one”) – I’ve always felt like I was meant to thrive in a different era; An era when capitalism, religion, and patriarchy didn’t exist.

I was meant to romp around with my loved ones, human and non-animal alike, in the somewhat scary freedom of the natural world.

I say somewhat scary because the feeling is real in these visions of mine. And these “natural worlds” that they take place in span the spectrum of environmental bounty and wretchedness. Real freedom and liberation is indeed something to feel a little afraid of, I’ve come to realize. And the natural world is not some romantic paradise-like land, but a very real, occasionally dangerous place that needs to be lived in with care and caution.

It is the reason I’m never alone in these visions.

I’m always with people and animals. Because that relatively scary freedom is turned into a nurturing liberation with love and community. And the natural world we live in is respected, even feared a little, for what it is and can be to us all.

It’s why I realize that these aren’t visions of a life I was meant to live.

These are memories, past and future, of a life I’ve already lived.

And it’s the reason why I’m so fucking grateful for flashes of consciousness that smash the unidirectional linearity of time.

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I’m grateful for Dravidian matriarchy (TGP Musing 14.5)

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I know it hides under many layers of violent misogyny and sterile Manuwadi patriarchy.

Indeed, I know that many of the Dravidian lands and societies of today are certainly not the best places for women. And though they might not be the worst, with the world as fucked up in its sexism and cowardly masculinity as it is today, that’s really not saying much at all.

As a father to a brilliant warrior girl, I necessarily think about the various forms of patriarchy and misogyny in the world around us that my daughter will have to struggle and fight against. We are a border-busting family, or at least we try to be, so these thoughts always take place across multiple societies and possibilities, be they Minneapolis, Toronto, southern India, or who the fuck knows what the future might bring?

I have no doubt that she will fight those fights of collective liberation, wherever she may be, with far greater glory and courage than I could ever muster in a million lifetimes.

But I still worry. And thus want to arm her with as much knowledge and as many skills as I can cram into her brilliant little mind. I am doing that, I believe, with slow but hopefully ever-increasing success. I better prove I’m no slouch. I’m a warrior-appa after all.

Her soul however is far greater than I can ever imagine.

Her soul, like her mother’s, is far older, far wiser, far braver, and far more divine, than mine ever will be. I have no way of meeting her spiritually, other than in obeisance and, dare I say it, worship. It liberates me as a man to really engage with the nuances of fatherhood from the standpoint of awe, occasionally infuriating awe (she’s a toddler after all), but awe nonetheless.

This inclination of mine to understand my happiness and well being as a human being in direct conjunction with my sense of reverence for my female loved ones is, I believe, partly due to Dravidian matriarchy, somewhere, somehow, surviving spiritually in my being. Overcoming the many millennia of misogyny and patriarchy embedded in our times, Dravidian matriarchy remains in me, as do other matriarchies – guiding me, nurturing me, despite the inherent ignorance of my maleness.

As a small realization of the self in connection across time and space, universes and lifetimes, that kicks a lot of ass.

For I know that when Daya and her sisters finds themselves tired and weary, battling on, in whatever way they must, as the freedom fighters of tomorrow…

They can always wrench hope from the matriarchal roots of their warrior selves, be they Dravidian or Germanic, indigenous or adopted, somewhere or everywhere.

And for that, I am very, very grateful.

Kaliamman vazhgai.

 

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Thankful to be of southern color – TGP Musing 14

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The Gratitude Project – Musing 14

I despise being born with the unearned benefits of manhood, just as I’m grateful that I was born of color in this world.

I despise being born with the unearned benefits of a privileged social class, just as I’m grateful that I emerged out of a brutalized global south.

For my two great loves and I have looked deep into the heart of white privilege and western civilization…

And all we ever seem to find is soullessness.

Occasionally glittery, often pathetic, always destructive.

*sigh*

When, oh, when will our gora brothers and sisters liberate themselves from the soullessness of white privilege they cling onto with such fearful entitlement?

When, oh, when will we of the privileged West, liberate ourselves from the soullessness of endless greed and perennial discontentment?

When, oh, when will I stop lamenting about the state of the world and just be grateful that I have love in my life?

(Not much chance of any of these happening in the near future.)

I’m grateful for memories beyond memories…and a daughter who schools me (TGP Musing 13)

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The Gratitude Project – Musing 13

I have a weird involuntary quirk where I grit my teeth playfully whenever I feel overwhelmed with love and affection. Especially for those pure and high souls that are kittens, puppies and babies.

It’s not unlike the whole cutesy-macabre phrase of “Oh, you’re so adorable I could just eat you!” kind of thing.

It’s strange, you know, this gritting of teeth – often interpreted in masculine ways as a reflex of combative anger or grim determination; certainly not the flush of goodness that courses through one’s veins when in love.

Why then do I do it? I have always wondered, from a rather young age.

As a career healer, I understood the involuntary gritting of one’s teeth as a tick that can come from trauma. I know that reflex well. But it’s not the same. Any residual pain from past hurt that travels to my jaw results in a gnashing of the teeth for me, usually accompanied by a feeling like my head’s gonna explode.

I haven’t felt that in quite a while, and even when I do, it’s so short lived that it passes with nary a flutter.

This gritting of teeth, the one that comes from overwhelming love, is different and something I have witnessed in others.

But I only got a deeper understanding of it after my glorious daughter started mimicking it  recently. She playfully grits her teeth now from time to time when she feels a flood of love for either of her parents.

And in doing so, as usual, she teaches me more than I can ever teach her.

For Daya has helped unearth in me the faintest of memories, likely ingrained far deeper than my cognitive brain could ever retrieve. So faint that it necessitated multiple sensory flashbacks to retrieve.

A memory of me being held by my mother, hearing Amma’s banter as she coos in baby talk to me, sensing her playfully grit her teeth as she expresses that overwhelming feeling love.

I get it now.

And I’m so very grateful for memories beyond memories, traversing lifetimes and universes, gently proving that love is indeed pretty goddamn eternal.

I am grateful for the eventual return of our matriarchy (TGP Musing 12)

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The Gratitude Project – Musing 12

It is time, it is time.

Ten thousand years or more is long enough.

Somewhere at the cusp of many millennia of hunter-gatherer matriarchies.

Just prior to the dawn of global agriculture.

(And we all know the shit-storm of patriarchal religion, civilization, and colonialism that came after…)

Perhaps there existed a pinnacle of humanity when we had it all:

The security of pastoralism.

The freedom of hunting.

But above all,

The nurturing soul of a society guided and led by matriarchs.

It feels like we might be getting there again, albeit via upheaval.

As the Great Warrior Poet, Arundhati Roy, once said:

“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”

I am grateful for the voices of great souls like her during troubled times like this when global misogyny and masculinity seems to be making its last, cowardly stand.

As I am, grateful that is, for the great souls that are Sus and Daya (less famous though they may be for now) who guide me at home.

But right now, in a flush of spiritual candor and belief, I am truly grateful for what I know is going to be the return of our matriarchy.

The same matriarchy that has saved humanity’s ass for damn near it’s entire fucking existence.

And will do so yet again.

Never-ending gratitude for the moxie of warrior-goddesses (TGP Musing 11.75)

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The Gratitude Project (Musing 11.75)

I’m ever grateful for the courage, the resiliency, oh what the heck, the moxie of Sus and Daya (and other great souls who will join our family in the years to come);

Ever-shining lights of liberation they are and will continue to be for humanity’s great leap forward to our matriarchal roots;

As well as our great revolution back to a gender-liberated future;

Moxie we will need to take us there.

And moxie we will need to keep us from regressing.

I’m going to stop saying the word moxie now, as it’s starting to feel a little contrived.

(Which is a good indicator to end this musing…cos the moxie of them warrior-goddesses is anything but contrived.)

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via Daily Prompt: Moxie

(Why else would I arbitrarily use the word this many times in a musing? Check out other posts written via the daily prompt by clicking the below link.)

Moxie