image, Mama Bones
by Tom Kuebler, at the IX International Celebration of Imaginitve Realism in Reading, PA
Random things I’m thinking on the start of Lunar Samhain (starts today is one way to see it because the moon becomes last quarter today): The academic field of dom culture professionals–I acknowledge I am part—talks about the swamplands as a collective place of painful, shamed feelings we like to, as humans, repress.
Thinking about the Baltimore basements and Clubs we used to party in. Early 90’s. Thinking about the low end of Maryland, Pocomoke, dark waters, cypress creeks and loblolly swamps. Thinking about how we don’t, we will never, own the Land.
We are benefactors, for but a slice of a millisecond. Make zero qualms about it, she will shake us off, come too much harm.
Thinking about the child that died. As the arguments begin over suicide or lynching. Thinking about the mass cultural trauma that exists indicative of our daily discourse. A GOD DAMN argument over suicide or lynching? Both epidemic of toxic proportions. Lynching a three hundred year old tradition that lives un-rectified in our blood. In our bones. In the LAND.
A child died: A mother’s son. Our desensitization to cultural violence is preposterous. It is the un-rectified wound of the masculine house.
Our desensitization to not acknowledging all individual’s rights to safety (I am speaking inherent civil or human, of the people for the people rights, as well as disavowing them the right to be heard and validated in their experiences, as well as one’s physical body not being guaranteed the right to safety because of opinions about their race, gender, heritage, sexuality, disability etc) is grotesque.
Cards come due. Everything in my moon tending tells me Judgment is here. I’d take heed y’all. The wheels of Fate spin deliberately onward and we each co-weave as we choose.
Learn your family of origin and the stories that make you. Go far back as you can in your ancestors and their stories.
Respect all stories. Do not tolerate unaccountable hate. This is a finely shifting line.
Remember, there is a relationship between grief and rage.
Choose mentors and elders, and know their stories, too. Be accountable to this work.
Help people voice their stories.
Love truly is all there is.
Begin with yourself. Begin every day, repeat several times a day, and follow this with behaviors of kindness and small regular routines of water, food, sleep, fresh air and other natural elements, humor, art, music, relations, and information. Be mindful of the information you consume and undertake to enjoy the work you do. Be gentle with yourself when you forget all of this. Sleep and don’t get out of bed if you can’t. Limit this to every so often. Cry when you need to, for as long as you can, but watch self-pity and blame because they will steal a day’s worth of energy a day at at time no matter what. Make still time to be quiet, or quiet time to be still, whichever you need. Make good use of forgiveness, open-mindedness, and willingness to understand. Also this won’t make sense to some but it’s helpful to be able to track time bc then you can track your intentions.
Cultivate the Sacred in whatever way is most meaningful and real to you. In this you are cultivating yourself. All is hallowed.
Swamplands can turn to like, oil, if you wanna hang metaphorically with me a minute. Like the kinda inner juice that optimizes your machine. Tap deep in to the deepest parts of you that you resist. Do the work to transform. Put your head down and do the work. Find the people who support you in this. Help them with their work, too.
This weekend is maybe the most vital dark moon period of the year to do this work. Lunar Samhain activates a week from today. Today begins all-is-sacred-week.
Keep your love light on~
Remember, the work is L O V E.
Remember, stories live in the land.
Remember, our stories are all we have~