Mothers of Unrest

The following was written after hearing the goose-bump speech of Julia Jackson, in response to her son being shot by police in Kenosha, WI. Her speech was not sad, it was not hopeless, but rather the exact opposite. At the end of the poem is a link to view the powerful speech. As we move into September and the theme, “Community in the Eye of the Storm,” Julia Jackson is a North Star to watch, listen and soak in:

Mothers of Unrest

©2020 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

September 1, 2020

A storm brews more powerful than a hurricane,

people whipped up, circling, caught in the maelstrom.

Young men

shot by police,

call into question

excessive use of force.

 

Eyes rest upon the scene,

seeing black men, young sons, neighborhoods echoing the shots

amidst mothers, calling for peace.

 

“Clearly, you can see by now

That I have beautiful brown skin,

But take a look at your hand

And whatever shade it is, it is beautiful as well.

How dare we hate what we are.

We are humans.

God did not make one type of tree

or flower, or fish, or horse, or grass, or rock. 

How dare you ask him to make one type of human

that looks just like you.

I’m not talking to just Caucasian people. 

I am talking to everyone:

White, black, Japanese, Chinese, red, brown,

No one is superior to the other….

We are the United States.

Have we been united?

Do you understand what’s going to happen when we fall?

Because a house that is against each other can not stand. 

 

“Citizens, police officers, firemen, clergy, politicians: 

Do Jacob justice on this level and examine your hearts. 

We need healing. 

As I pray for my son’s healing—physically, emotionally and spiritually—

I also have been praying even before this for the healing of our country.

Everybody, let’s use our hearts, our love,

and our intelligence to work together

to show the rest of the world how humans are supposed to treat each other. 

America is great when we behave greatly.”

 

Julia Jackson, Eye of the Storm,

Holy Mother,

walk, stand, show 

in this suffrage,

True North.

 

 

Video of Julia Jackson’s speech

Love Languages Amidst A Circus Act

In this time of COVID-19, we’ve heard many people lament the difficulties of physical and social distancing. Undoubtedly, when I hear our struggles, the Love Languages come to mind, and this question—how do you express your love? And, equally important—how do you best receive love?

Here are the five supposed Love Languages (there are probably far more than 5):

• Kind Words (spoken or written)
• Physical Touch
• Deep Listening
• Acts of Service
• Gift Giving

What is your dominant expression of love? During this time of self-isolation (that word makes me cringe! Kind Words are my primary Love Language!)—I shall try again—during this time of sequestering away :) is it possible to practice developing Love Languages other than Physical Touch? How might we strengthen the other four? 

Here’s a most recent example of how this might play out. This weekend I was looking forward to a bit of writing (Love Language uno) but instead was needed to bend pipe! My husband is constructing a garden box for me (Love Language Acts of Service) and due to our cool and crisp Tahoe summers, plans include a cold-frame. However, to achieve a cold frame capable of supporting our snow load, we must...bend pipe. 

As we began this process, I joked (Love Language Kind Words) that we were performing a circus act. The Strong Man smiled, then, freakishly bent pipe while the Lovely Assistant held the pipe and sang carnival songs...until what we thought would be a couple hours, turned into late evening. The Lovely Assistant threatened to turn nasty until...yep, she remembered the Love Languages. I gratefully realized that I had the opportunity to practice an Act of (lengthy) Service to my adored Strong Man, our beautiful yard and the vegetables that will be so happy in the warmth of the cold frame. I bit my tongue and realized it takes mindfulness, tremendous awareness, especially in pandemic times, to care for one another and strengthen our love. 

Let us practice together, especially now—when we feel our resistances kick into high gear. For our friends who Speak the Language of Touch, might we find other ways to show them our love? Can we strengthen our recognition of what others need during this trying time? 

Life is a circus: sing, dance, bend pipe, practice the Love Languages and grow vegetables!

 

Good Trouble RIP John Lewis

Precious, conscience-of-the-nation, John Lewis, has died and since hearing the news of his passing this weekend, I have walked, sung and watched two thunderstorms build in the clouds and unleash their blessings, while touching the hero nature of this man.

I remember some years ago hearing an interview John Lewis gave to Krista Tippett that permanently changed my world. He spoke directly to my soul, expanding my sense of engaging other beings with dignity—especially those who disagreed with you— and by doing so, the beloved community grows.

John Lewis internalized a loving heart during the civil rights movement, even as he was mocked, tear-gassed, trampled by horses, beaten to an inch of his life and jailed. During a time when it was only natural to close down for self preservation, he did the opposite, he opened. He claims that he felt no bitterness, no animosity toward his persecutors. His life in every way shows dedication to peace and love as ultimate North Stars.

He has said, “Non-violence is not the absence of violence but the presence of justice, presence of bringing the dirt and the filth out into the light so we can deal with it.” During the non-violent campaign, participants were trained to look into the eyes of the ones who disagreed with you, address them as holy and sacred. He stressed that we must be taught to love and to see the spark of divinity in every fellow human being, and that we don’t have the right to extinguish the sacred spark. We are often taught to hate, to abuse and so we must appeal to the goodness in every human being and never give up, never give up on anyone. This way of engaging is conflict resolution for holy beings, those who have their sights and their feet in the Eternal Dimension, in the land of freedom.

One of his most recent quotes of 2018 is a Tweeted-torch, a lamp for this time we find ourselves:

"Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble."

He speaks of being pulled into The Spirit of History and that we have a moral obligation, a mandate to engage suffering, to recognize what is harmful and cast light on it. But, here’s the mandate: engage with love, peace and strong faith in the goodness of humanity. John Lewis taught that our civility demonstrates the absurdity of the other side.

"Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”

John Lewis, Rest In Peace, knowing you have made a mark on history that is incomprehensibly good. As your divine spark shines inside future generations, may we nourish its light and tend it like a beacon.

All Is Well Even In Social Upheavals!

After writing about an amazing experience yesterday, poem below came through on Facebook as a past memory/post from a few years ago— I just love synchronicity and the confirmation that all is well. It deserves reposting here, especially with George Floyd and our current unrest, RIP:

Child of God
©Karla Johnston, 2007

If you only knew who surrounds you always,
fear would have no hold.
my protection would suffice.

Realize you are mine,
and courage thrives,
imagination unbinds.

If you only knew what we have shared,
you would feel, taste, smell, see, hear
all I offer you.

Understand I am alive,
dry bones dance,
holy breathe enlivens thee.

If you only knew how much you are cherished,
love would have no boundaries,
abundance would be your birthright.

In all things,
joyous or mundane,
each and every day,
I am here, inside,
waiting for your
remembrance.

Do You Know Just How Loved (Amidst COVID-19)

As we approach May with no answers as to when we’ll return to working order amidst the pandemic, a new poem sprouts....

Do You Know Just How Loved

©2020 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Eyes and hands of compassion

always roaming…always reaching out—

Remember Master Daowu, that Zen master who said, 

“It’s like adjusting a pillow in the night.”

Arriving at the surgery center during COVID,

balancing the mask,
elastic behind the ears, hearing aids,
long hair.

Dang it, forgot the hair tie!

Step out the car and feel something beneath my shoe

Lift my sole to discover—a hairband,
and, it matches my outfit, get out!

Smiling at this gift,
I wash it good, along with my hands,
and secure my locks in pure wonderment.

A few days later I head out into the wild,

no music, no earbuds, just a heart open to the signs—

I’m mountain biking on the down

and ride through a puddle,

turn back around

to look upon

a mud-hole-elongated-heart,

reflecting the sky

as if to say, 

“Don’t ever forget,
I love you.”

I smile at Creator’s sense of humor,

the intimate knowledge of my personal motto—
you got to learn to sling mud

to grow lotuses.

It seems a theme
COVID-19–

those hands, those eyes,

there’s so little

that I actually need.

Shocked Into Presence ~ COVID 19

Shocked Into Presence

COVID-19

April 9, 2020

©2020 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

It has taken three weeks

to bring myself to the page,

attempt this weak

expression of our strange new world.

Here in America predictions are—

numbers will peek Easter Sunday 

and hopefully then, the curve will flatten.

Worldwide cases: over 1.6 million

Deaths: 97,237

USA: 451,491

Deaths: 15,938

USA jobs lost: well over 16 million 

As we wait this out, 

quarantined and socially distanced.

I include the numbers in a search for perspective,

think back in history to the ancestors 

who perhaps like me felt entirely Incapable

of recording the depths, 

lives impacted,

So in mind-numb did not.

I know one True North—compassion:

health care providers, grocery clerks, 

businesses that have retooled production

for ventilators, hand sanitizer, PPE. 

When asked about the many eyes and hands of compassion, 

Master Daowu said, 

“It’s like reaching back in search of a pillow in the night.”

There are two parts of me, one who watches:

numbers climb, economy crash,

And another, Master Daowu, 

who reaches in the dark—

natural,

effortless,

innate,

fearless.

Tattoos Will Save Us!

I’m slowly coming back into the blog scene, my loves, and it feels good. I have a loved one who is in recovery and my writings since March 2019 have been generating love poems for him. My personal North Star as many may know is—Compassion as the number #1 condition. A motto that helps me practice to this capacity and Chart My Course is—pay attention to what is needed and offer something useful.

Recovery is a messy, muddy road and what I can offer is a perspective of gratitude along the way—a lotus in the mud, so to speak. Here is a latest offering for my loved one who personifies Inner Constellation Truth #3– Everything, no matter how challenging, has the ability to be transformed.

Body the Canvas

©2020 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

“Guess what?” 

I breath, smile and type, “What?”

while practicing relaxing my body and mind,

thinking positive when a potential loaded text comes through.

In the moments it takes to receive an answer,

I look out the window

on a cold and brisk afternoon.

Sun low, rides gold across pine boughs.

A few lines from an India Arie song filter in,

stuck in my head almost nonstop these days,

I begin to hum, “I am Light…I am Light…um hmm.” 

Picture of a tattoo on your thigh comes through:

triangle, eye in the middle, pupil open like a deep pool,

all around the peripheral, sun rays emanate.

Skin’s a little irritated, red and glossy so it looks somewhat alive,

shimmering,

nice effect.

“So, I’ve always been interested in tattooing, 

bought a tattoo gun and kit on Amazon for 38 bucks,

watched a YouTube video

and did my first tattoo on myself.”

What?!? No way!

I try imagining sitting still through that kind of pain. 

“Awesome! Takes trust to tattoo yourself!”

I feel you smile.

“Well I figured thighs good practice skin,

till I get good enough to do it somewhere visible. 

I really like it and expected my first to turn out horrible.”

“Looks professional! What’s it represent?”

Song gets cranking in my head, can’t keep it in,
I’m singing out loud, “I am light…I am light…um hmm,”

and looking at your shiny, radiating tattoo.

“Clarity, I guess,

Seeing things on a deeper level.

Higher power.”

Over the next few days

pics of more self-ink:
ankle tattoo, more triangles,

a sweet skull on the back of your calf—
my personal favorite so far, for as I took it in

I realized beneath our face skin 

our skulls are always grinning, always.

Maybe it’s a constant reminder to smile, 

everything is OK,

and our nose bones are upside down hearts,

how about that.

I text you back, “Guess what?”

“What?” comes the reply.

“I think you found your calling.”

You’re so in the moment, “With what?” 

I laugh out loud, “Doing what you enjoy that makes bodies beautiful.”

Courage grows and by the weekend,

You inked a dog, wine glass, baby Yoda reaching for a nipple squeeze

and…your best so far, but it gave me pause…

Is it what I think it is? How did you catch the angle, just right?

I pass the pic to my husband, who laughs,

“Oh geez, consult the sign language interpreters in the family!”

I text you back,

“Whose thigh did you tattoo the sign ‘ass-hole?’”

It looks like the leg of my nephew-in-law.

I see you both, laughing and having a good time.

“Yes, it’s his thigh.         

It’s the sign you make, and if somebody looks, you get to punch them.” 

Earlier, you had text me a picture from instagram or someplace,

it’s in the middle of a conversation about hygiene (it’s the auntie in me),

and learning how to grow your obvious skill.

I type, “Well you’ve got your connections and you could do it.”

Before I hit send, another pic comes through, 

“I think I found my next one.”

When I see it, I know tattooing is your body poetry,
your story’s canvas…