Our Joy Continues to Shine: More Thoughts on Empire

How to live in late capitalism, in the midst of climate change, political upheaval, and the fading of empire?

Say fuck you. Say bless you. Just live.

Find joy.

*** Our joy is a glorious thing. It will not be denied.

Joy is not the same as happiness. Joy can include fierceness. Joy includes compassion. Joy reaches beyond the self and includes the world.

We can be in joy even in the midst of anger. We can rally with joy. We can dance with joy. We can weep with joy. We can shout with joy. We can build with joy.

The invocation of joy helps set us free.

***

How to live in late capitalism, in the midst of climate change, political upheaval, and the fading of empire?

Keep breathing. You’ll live longer that way.

And if there are folks who don’t want you to live, and live well? If there are people who wish for you to not thrive, but die?

Keep breathing. Send your breath out into the world. Take breath in from every plant and tree and droplet and cloud.

Breath is love. Breath is defiance. Breath is strength. Breath is life. Conspire. Inspire. Conspire. Inspire. Conspire.

***

How to live in late capitalism, in the midst of climate change, political upheaval, and the fading of empire?

Gaze out the window at the fog in the trees, or the sun reflecting off of buildings. Bake a squash or eat some oatmeal: they’re cheap, warm, and nourishing.

Make something. Anything: A dozen cookies. A painting. A poem. A dance. A community. An altar. A home. A friend. Take deep breaths. Find ways to be useful.

Find ways to resist injustice. Find ways to rest. Seek out joy.

Make what money you need to: because that is still a currency, even in crumbling times, and until there is basic income, or a better barter system, or a new society built from within the shell of the old…people need to eat and pay for housing.

And just as importantly…

Make choices: because that is still the currency of retaining your own soul. Make friends or comrades: because community is the true form of our survival. Make art: because who doesn’t need art, no matter what times they are living through?

Find ways to thrive. Find ways to help others to thrive.

*** The enemies of our love are going to do what they’ve always done: exploit, oppress, and profit.

Bechtel Corporation will create toxic waste on one hand and clean it up with the other. Simon and Schuster will publish “diverse voices” through one imprint and give large advances to stochastic terrorists on another. Money will be made by these corporations either way.

People will die. People will be born.

What will our priorities be?

***

How to live in late capitalism, in the midst of climate change, political upheaval, and the fading of empire?

Be in relationship with your intentions. Get as clear as you can.

A few months ago, I decided that no matter what happens in the world around me, I cannot prioritize putting out fires. There are too many conflagrations everywhere. Rather, I needed to stay the course I set myself when my family decided to uproot our lives and move to Oregon.

Therefore, my priorities needed to be:

1. Health

2. Writing

3. Service

The other themes I’m working with in these times of upheaval and renewal are: to be present and to listen.

These will all carry me through, no matter what occurs. What guides your body, mind, heart, and soul?

What do you intend?

***

Emma Goldman once said, “I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everybody’s right to beautiful, radiant things.”

I want that, too. People need bread. People need homes. People need education. Health care. Community.

People also need radiant, beautiful things.

As the earth warms, empires crumble, nation states and capitalism shift and dissolve –and white supremacy, oligarchy, and patriarchy draw in long, shuddering breaths– we must keep choosing radiance, beauty, and all the things that sustain body, mind, and soul.

We are dancing on this one particular precipice of time. Let’s take care of one another.

And let’s make this dance a gorgeous one.

***

How to live in late capitalism, in the midst of climate change, political upheaval, and the fading of empire?

You tell me.

Portland, OR

January, 2017

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This is reader-funded writing.

I give thanks to all of my Patreon supporters, who donate every month so I can offer two pieces of writing to the general public for free.

I give thanks to brand new patrons and to ongoing supporters Angela, Zann, Daniel, Luna, Christopher, Sarah, Amerwitch, Tamara, Elizabeth, J. Anthony, Sea Serpent, Jen, David, Emilie, Jennifer, Elliot, Ellen, a phoenix, Jersey Meg, Tony, Sean, Sherry, Christopher, Stephanie, Lira, Ariana, Tamara, Karen, Morgaine, Sarah, Rachel, Jenny, Joanna, R.M., Ember, San, Miriam, Leslie, Sharon, Mary Anne, Joanna, Tony, Angela, Constance, Stone, Omorka, Unwoman, Shemandoah, Sarah, Rain, Cid, Alley, Mica, Christine, Vyviane, Katie, Emilie, Louise, Victoria, Greg, Ealasaid, Jennifer, Louise, Rose, Starr, Sinead, Lyssa, Aeptha, Cara, Crystal, Angela, Misha, Eridanus, Cheryl, Lori, Soli, Peter, Angela, Ambariel, Sonia, Jennifer, Ruth, Miranda, Jeremy, Jonah, Michelle, Jenny, Jen, Mir, Ruth, Emilie, Jonathan, Kate, Roger and Nancy.

To find out more about Patreon, click here.

#Empire #joy #resistance

In Need of Beauty

I started writing a different piece this month.

Halfway through an essay on how everyday racism bubbles up among good people, I stopped.

“That’s fine,” I thought. “I’m ahead of my deadline on this. I’ll finish it up in a few days and be good to go.”

The essay still isn’t finished. It will be, eventually, but not in time for this month’s essay deadline. I could do my professional duty on it, but with this topic, I want to include as much nuance as is possible in 1200 words.

My head needs to be fully committed. So does my heart.

And my heart isn’t in it right now.

Right now, I feel tired. Not tired of everything, mind you. But tired of important topics. Tired of news cycles. Tired of in-fighting. Tired of politics. Tired of hustle. Tired of fascism. Tired of inequity. Tired of police killings. Tired of murders. Tired of oppression. Tired of racism. Tired of sexism. Tired of transmisogyny. Tired of the litanies of hopelessness, hatred, and fear that scroll across my Facebook and Twitter feeds.

I need a break from it. Just for a small while.

I want to listen to the birds, and the rustle of the trees, and the cars going on their way. I want to ask the squirrel why it is so upset today. What in the world is it chuck chucking at? I want to feel the spring air.

My friend, the musician Sharon Knight, reminds us that beauty and lifting one another up are choices.

In a world that is trying to grind us all down, I want to take refuge in beauty.

This doesn’t mean that I’ll forget my suffering brothers, sisters, and siblings. It just means that I’ll refill the well of my soul for awhile, before re-entering the fray.

We need this. We all need this. Especially those of us who work hard for others every day. And even those of us who don’t.

What in you is longing for a rest? A break? Some beauty?

Can you take an hour or so and fill the well of your heart, mind, body, and soul?

I invite us all to pause today. Find a piece of art to look at. Listen to some music. Dance. Go for a walk. Laugh. Brush your hand against a tree. Smell the ocean. Find one flower. Kiss a friend. Watch the sky. Read something that gives you pleasure.

Easy as it is to forget sometimes, the world is not only hustle or suffering.

The world is filled with beauty. Sometimes it is small, and hard to catch. But it is there. In someone’s face. In the way the sun hits a building. Even in the most squalid, depressed conditions, beauty finds a way.

I hope that today, beauty finds its way to you. And that you rest in it awhile.

copyright T. Thorn Coyle, May 2016

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This is reader-funded writing.

I give thanks to all of my Patreon supporters, who donate every month so I can offer one essay and one short story to the general public for free.

I give thanks to brand new patrons San, Miriam, Leslie, and to ongoing supporters Sharon, Mary Anne, Joanna, Tony, Angela, Constance, Stone, Omorka, Unwoman, Shemandoah, Sarah, Rain, Cid, Alley, Mica, Christine, Vyviane, Katie, Emilie, Louise, Victoria, Greg, Ealasaid, Jennifer, Louise, Rose, Starr, Sinead, Lyssa, Aeptha, Cara, Crystal, Angela, Misha, Eridanus, Cheryl, Lori, Soli, Peter, Angela, Ambariel, Sonia, Jennifer, Ruth, Miranda, Jeremy, Jonah, Michelle, Jenny, Jen, Mir, Ruth, Emilie, Jonathan, Kate, Roger & Nancy.

To find out more about Patreon, click here.

#beauty #soulsupport

Until There is Justice: Thoughts on Community

“We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.” – Dorothy Day“You can care about people you’ve never even met.” – Killer Mike

There are many debates in many….I’ll call them groups… regarding whether or not we can use the word community to describe that grouping. These days, many affiliations and associations are breaking themselves apart from the general and attempting to figure out how to cluster around a specific. But what specific? And how specific does it need to be?

This process brings up many questions:

What does community mean? Is such and such a community, or not? Who comprises community? Co-religionists? People with common interests? Gender? Racial background? Sexuality? Affiliations? Neighborhood? Economic class? Family?

Does everyone who makes it in the door of community define everyone else in that community? Can we lock people out because we disagree?

No one is quite sure exactly what makes up community, though some of the groupings above are more likely to be named as community than others. But we use the word community a lot to try to describe a link of some sort. A connection. A way of being in the world.

Sometimes we insist there is no community. Even while invoking it. Even while we try to walk away.

Because…There is splintering. Fracturing. Factioning. “The People’s Front of Judea” vs “The Judean People’s Front” to use an old Monty Python reference. People are trying to figure out where they fit in and what they can call home.

I’m sympathetic to those feeling disgruntled with the notion of “community.” I’m also sympathetic to the current trend of things breaking up into component parts. Humans tend to work better in more intimate groupings. It seems to be the way with animals.

I’m sympathetic to those who stay and try to work harder, to fix things, to shore things up, to not let the work of the group just wash away. I’m sympathetic to those who choose to rise to the challenge of necessary change. I also understand those who walk away.

The thing is, no matter what we say, we are all a part of community whether we like it or not. Whether we admit it or not. Whether we agree on what “community” means, or not.

We are all in community because we are all related.

Meaning: we are in relationship with one another.

There’s no escaping it. We crash together and we break apart like atoms. We dance like neurons, or distant stars. We isolate ourselves. We open out again. We hold our wounded hearts or bruised senses of pride. We grow stronger. And then we try again.

Because we must.

Recently I donated a few dollars, nothing much, to the young woman who was attacked by an officer while sitting in her desk at school in Spring Valley High. Usually when I make donations, I don’t bother to comment. This time I did. It felt important to.

In the comment box I wrote:

“Until there is justice…there is far flung community.”

I was trying to name that connection. That sense that we must care for one another.  That sense is the glue of community. In that moment, like in so many others, the sense of community felt strong and true.

The long loneliness Dorothy Day knew so well affects us all, at some point or another. Sometimes it is our attempts at making community that cause the long loneliness to rise up, tapping at our shoulder blades, and telling us we should just go home. Alone.

But Day was right. So is Killer Mike. Again and again, it becomes important that we try to reconnect. We might contact a friend. Or go read in a cafe just to be around others. We might attend a festival. Or an organizing meeting. Or church.

We speak out. We help.

We realize we need one another, even in the midst of pain, disillusionment, or dislike. We even need people we’ve never met.

Sometimes I imagine that everything in the cosmos gets a little lonely. But then, I also imagine that something sparks inside a star, reminding it that it is in a wheeling dance of proximity and combustion with other stars. I imagine that there is a being, looking out and seeing our galaxy the way I sometimes gaze upon the moon, with the wonder of being on an object turning slowly in the midst of space.

My community is the entire cosmos in those moments.

But most of the time, my community is the friends with whom I might be arguing, or laughing, or preparing to sit down to dinner with. My community is the shifting, ad hoc group of comrades that show up at meetings, actions, and protests. My community are the folks that keep the soup kitchen running. My community are the people that come together once a month to honor the Gods.

All of these groups have varying levels of intimacy and connection. Some of the people I rely upon to show up are folks I don’t know much about personally, but I do know their integrity in action. We will disagree on some things that are of vital importance to both of us, but the things we do agree upon still bind us together. We recognize this: the work at hand is more important than disagreements about theology or tactics.

Community is the people who show up. But community is not only that.

Community is not only about proximity in body, location, heart, or mind.

Sometimes – fairly often actually – community is made up of anyone who cares enough to spread the word, or send a few dollars. Community is something that says, “We feel you. We hear you. We see you…

We want you to know that you are not alone.”

With that love, that reaching out, comes community.

Whether we stay, or whether we walk away, we affect each other. We are still in this together.

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Speaking of community:

This essay was funded by Patreon. Each month, interested readers fund one essay and one piece of short fiction, to be released for free to the public.

I give thanks to Mica, Christine, Vyviane, Katie, Emilie, Louise, Victoria, Greg, Ealasaid, Jennifer, Louise, Rose, Starr, Sinead, Lyssa, Aeptha, Cara, Crystal, Angela, Misha, Eridanus, Cheryl, David, Lori, Soli, Peter, Angela, Ambariel, Sonia, Jennifer, Ruth, Miranda, Jeremy, Jonah, Michelle, Jenny, Jen, Mir, Ruth, Emilie, Jonathan, Kate.

To find out more about Patreon – which funds many musicians, writers, artists – click here.

#community #justice