The Spirit of Liberty

Exactly one year ago today, we buried my mother. Her tragic passing has been on my mind a lot this week. In the wake of that sudden loss, I've searched for answers, pondered the past, and questioned what we could have done to prevent it. However, all of that ruminating has faded from view as I have sought to honor her memory over the past few days.

I feel disappointed that, in general, our society does not have more poignant ways of preserving the memories and legacies of our loved ones. Quite frankly, we do a terrible job of remembering those who came before us. Their entire life's trajectory just evaporates over time. I want to do better than that. I want to find ways of preserving and memorializing my mother and anyone else I lose over the course of my life. I want to teach my children stories of the people who came before them.

In other cultures, it is quite common to honor the spirit of your ancestors. In some societies, it is totally normal to pray, reflect, or meditate upon the spirit of your ancestors, seeking them for guidance. As skeptical and critical as I can often be regarding all things religious, I can say with honesty that.... I get it. I understand that reflex, to seek your ancestors even when they're long gone.

Where is my mother now? Does her spirit remain with me, or is she just alive in the recesses of my heart & mind? I don't know. Does it matter?  Whether she abides as a spirit, or she just abides in my memory.... she's there. She means something to me. Some people would say she was "larger than life". Instead, I'd say she was always more mythological than motherly -- she was always more fiction than fact.  She was a character, an embodiment of something greater. And I want to honor that; I want to find a way to cherish her with my actions.

So, in an effort to preserve my mother's memory, my little family made a trip to the beach on the day of her passing. When I was a child, my mom would often take me to the beach to gather shells. In honor of that, Eisley and Maebry gathered shells to place around her gravestone, and we spent the day having fun and visiting relatives in the area. In this way, I believe we created a ritual that would honor her in a way that fits her. This is what she would have wanted.

Throughout this week, I've also paused to reflect on what she meant to me.
She taught me to seek beauty.
She taught me to be expressive.
She taught me to be unashamed of who I am.
She taught me to be free. Really, truly free.

My mother is the spirit of liberty in my life. Her body rests in the soil of Onslow County, but her spirit resides upon the waves. Her spirit walks the shoreline, and her spirit walks with me too. I want to celebrate her, and the liberty she imparted upon me. I want to teach my children who she really was, and I want to show them how to cherish the loved ones that leave this world.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

I am not your ally.

A curious thing has happened to Hannah and I over the past several years. On a variety of occasions, people will interact with us in a seemingly normal, sociable way. We exchange small talk and formalities, and then, in the midst of a superficially banal dialogue, a shift occurs.

And out comes the racism. Out comes the sexism. Why does this keep happening?

When we first moved to Salisbury, Hannah visited a local veterinarian, and the vet interacted with Hannah for less than ten minutes before confiding some very awkward, highly racial opinions to her. Somehow, we keep finding ourselves in this situation, with acquaintances and strangers alike. Racists and sexists find themselves emboldened in this age, ready to spout off their nonsense anywhere.

So let me make this clear.
I am not your ally.

We are not allies of the racist, the sexist, the bigots, the homophobes. We are not your confessional booth, and we will not be complicit in your inane war against decency. Do not mistake my skin color or my gender for permission to disseminate your poison. It will not be accepted or permitted in my world.

We are the allies of the downtrodden, the oppressed, the marginalized, the hurt. We vote that way, too. We consider these people groups when we give donations, when we volunteer, and when we cast our ballots for local and national leaders.

I would encourage every reader to search their soul and ask themselves where their allegiances lie. Who have you aligned with, and who have you placated? What concepts have you let reign freely in your life and in your social interactions? The time for change is now, and the time for tepid disagreement is over.

To the racist,
the sexist,
the oppressor,
the aggressor.....
I am not your ally.

A World Without Closets

June is LGBT Pride Month, and this very fact tends to conjure up some interesting reactions in people.  Recently, a major leader within the popular fitness company Crossfit was embroiled in a firestorm after stating that LGBT pride was a grievance against god. It wasn't long ago that I was firmly planted in a world that felt that way, and yet, it all seems so foreign now.

Perhaps the most perplexing piece of this mentality is the rejection of pride itself. Now,  I realize that many faiths condemn homosexuality as a sin, but the reactions against what we celebrate in June don't make sense, and here's why:

Pride is a natural outcome of honesty.

As I've written before, we live in a world rife with closets. People remain closeted about their sexual orientations, their gender preferences, their beliefs, and so much more. The celebration of LGBT pride is a natural by-product of the fact that many people are leaving their closets behind, and they are profoundly glad to see the light of day. Regardless of where you stand on the topic itself, you should be thankful for that... because at least we are having honest interactions.

Imagine a world where everyone became shockingly, unapologetically themselves to their friends, family, and coworkers. Imagine a world where the curtains drop to reveal the things we conceal for the sake of our reputations. It would be a shocking atmosphere, for sure, but more than anything, it would be real. It would be honest.

Now, closets exist for a reason. Tragically, many people have to conceal themselves for fear of rejection, or discrimination, or even violence. This is the true abomination. Instead of railing against the rainbow-colored bumper stickers you see, consider the cultural phenomenon that makes pride even matter.

People have pride because we live in a society where just being you can require a tremendous sacrifice and risk. That's the grievance against whatever god may exist. That's the travesty.

So, wherever you stand on the topic of homosexuality (or any other nontraditional lifestyle), you must realize that the dismantling of each and every closet is a good thing. Because when the last closet door opens, we will live in a world where we can be candid without fear of mistreatment or harm.

It's time for us to work towards a world without closets.