The Warriors of Light Community

Dear Paulo and fellow WOLs,

I wrote a Poem in a moment of anger, sadness and frustration and inner turmoil. My first one… Please read and give me your candid feedback. It would mean a lot to me if you did.

The background events that prompted me to write/vent: My husband was verbally abusing me and insulting me and painted a verbal picture of me that is so far from who I am and what i’m capable of. I stood in front of the mirror washing my tears and looked at the image in front of me.. looking into my own eyes I wondered who i really am.

Poem:
I am not..

I am not defined by other’s failures of perception
I am not a figment of someone’s imagination

I am not the missing bone from a man’s rib cage
I am not the food for someone’s rage

I am not a passing fad
I am not a soulless cad

I am not just a man’s wife
I am not a body without life

I am not to be had
I am not going to be sad!

I am!

On the outside I am a woman struggling to be a girl.
On the inside I am a girl struggling to be a woman.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to look younger.
On the inside I am a girl struggling to be wiser.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to be full of care.
On the inside I am a girl struggling to always dare.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to uphold tradition.
On the inside I am a girl struggling to be break convention.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to be a realist.
On the inside I am a girl struggling to remain an idealist.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to forgive.
On the inside I am a girl struggling with the hurt that he gives.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to trust.
On the inside I am a girl struggling with the breach of trust.

On the outside I am a woman struggling to be a good mother
On the inside I am a girl struggling not to bother.

On the outside I am but a shell.
On the inside I am but a well – dark ,deep and an eternal spring of love.

I am!

Love,
Laxmi

http://www.forbes.com/2009/09/02/worlds-happiest-cities-lifestyle-cities_slide_7.html?partner=yahooshine

And the NUMBER ONE HAPPIEST place
is…
1.
2. Sydney, Australia
3. Barcelona, Spain
4. Amsterdam, Holland
5. Melbourne, Australia

Now guess the friendliest!

http://www.forbes.com/2008/12/09/relocate-world-countries-forbeslife-cx_ds_1210friendly_slide_7.html?thisSpeed=15000

:o)

THE PALACE AND THE HUT
by Kahlil Gibran

Part one

As NIGHT fell and the light glittered in the great house, the servants stood at the massive door awaiting the coming of the guests; and upon their velvet garments shone golden buttons.

The magnificent carriages drew into the palace park and the nobles entered, dressed in gorgeous raiment and decorated with jewels. The instruments filled the air with pleasant melodies while the dignitaries danced to the soothing music.

At midnight the finest and most palatable foods were served on a beautiful table embellished with all kinds of the rarest flowers. The feasters dined and drank abundantly, until the sequence of the wine began to play its part. At dawn the throng dispersed boisterously, after spending a long night of intoxication and gluttony which hurried their worn bodies into their deep beds with unnatural sleep.

Part two

At eventide, a man attired in the dress of heavy work stood before the door of his small house and knocked at the door. As it opened, he entered and greeted the occupants in a cheerful manner, and then sat between his children who were playing at the fireplace. In a short time, his wife had the meal prepared and they sat at a wooden table consuming their food. After eating they gathered around the oil lamp and talked of the day’s events. When early night had lapsed, all stood silently and surrendered themselves to the King of Slumber with a song of praise and a prayer of gratitude upon their lips.

THE UNNATTAINABLE IDEAL

We ought to live
each day as though
it were our las day
here below.

But if I did, alas,
I know
it would have killed me
long ago.
Piet Hein

HEE HA
Totemo Aishiteru
Doumo Arigatou!

Just wanted to share this with all of you: A friend of mine is taking a sociology course, and she was given a very interesting assignment: First, spend some time thinking about taboos and cultural prejudices in your society. Then, go out into the world and set yourself up in a real-life situation where you will be a victim of censure and/or discrimination.

We were discussing the assignment and what we realized is that talking about breaking taboos or pushing the limits of prejudice is one thing, but actually willfully putting oneself in such a situation is something completely different and much more difficult. It requires enormous risk. It is scary.

We started brainstorming, trying to think of ways she could fulfill the assignment. She said, “Well, I could pretend to be a lesbian and go out in public. You know, openly show affection with one another and just see what happens.” She was looking at me when she said this, a sort of expectant expression on her face, because, of course, this would mean that she would need my active participation to pull it off. I tried to imagine us walking into the local bookstore, which I frequent, holding hands, maybe kissing now and then. Sitting in the small cafe there and “flirting” openly. Involuntarily, I sort of winced at the thought of it, as I could imagine the reaction of the employees and other shoppers, imagining them getting up from their tables and walking out in a storm of disgust. And then, every time after that, when I returned to that same bookstore…?

So, she came up with another idea: Her father is from Panama, and although she does not particularly look Panamanian, she obviously is not “white white” like most of the population here. The KKK is still quite active in this region, and there is a local chapter in a town nearby. “I could try to go to one of the KKK meetings. You know – just see if they would let me in,” she said. “What do you think?” About this idea, I was even more skeptical than the first. “You’re crazy!” I said, “I wouldn’t go anywhere near those people.” “Well,” she replied, “I don’t think they would kill me. Not today. Not now.” Well, maybe not, but they could definitely find out where she lives, and they could certainly come at night and burn a cross in her front yard. These sorts of things they do still do. And her sister’s boyfriend is black, and they two have an infant son who is of mixed race. Eliciting the attention of the KKK could turn out to be very dangerous indeed. Someone could really get hurt.

So then I said, “Maybe you could go to church and tell them that you’re a witch. You know – mention reading Tarot cards or magic or something of that sort.” Her response was, “No way! Those people scare me more than the KKK.” “I guess you’re right,” I said, “I can see your point – better to have a cross burned in your yard than to be burned at the cross yourself.” Of course, they don’t really still burn witches here, not physically, but there are other ways of being “burned” which are just as effective. This being a small community, nothing is ever spoken that does not eventually get around to all ears. A few words spoken in church about witches or magic could lead to lasting repercussions and a lifetime of public censure. Forever after she would be known as “the witch of —- Road.”

Another idea: “You could go to a meeting of the local Republican chapter wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt,” I said. “Who is that?” she said. She was right, it probably would have little effect, because many there wouldn’t recognize Che Guevara if he was standing ressurected in front of them. They wouldn’t know who he was or what he represents, because they’ve been raised in a vacuum where everyone they know or have ever met is a devout capitalist, and the worst enemy they can conceive of in actuality is a Democrat.

So, it was left at that. An assignment yet to be fulfilled. However, it left me thinking a lot about taboos and cultural prejudices – particularly about just how much of my REAL self I keep hidden from public view in particular environments where I know that my convictions or my actions will result in unsavory consequences. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I spent just one week of my life NOT censoring myself in any way. What would happen if I went around speaking what I really think, and acting in public as I might in private? What would that be like? In that moment I realized just how much of my real self remains safely shielded from public view. Not always and forever, of course, but in certain situations and environments.

So then I started thinking in Jungian terms – the Shadow self – thinking of the parts of me that I keep hidden from public view as a sort of Shadow Me. I thought of the moon in its phases and how, at times, there is just that small sliver visible. And I thought, yes, here where I live now, in this place and amongst these people, that small sliver is me – the tiny portion of the real me that I allow myself to reveal openly. The rest remains in shadow, safely hidden from public view. It is no wonder that I feel so small here, so insignificant, so powerless. I have not felt that in other places – I never felt that in all the twenty years I lived away in other cities and other states and other countries. There, I was just Me – take it or leave it. But here, in the place where I grew up and to which I returned three years ago, there is this enormous pressure, and I feel that I am walled in by it on all sides. So contracted by it, that I can scarcely breathe.

I am a coward and I know this. I am the Moon, and I could throw off my cloak at any moment I choose. But I don’t. I won’t. For some reason, I can’t – not here. Why?!

There is a quote which comes to my mind:

“Cages. Consider a birdcage. If you look very closely at just one wire in the cage, you cannot see the other wires. If your conception of what is before you is determined by this myopic focus, you could look at that one wire, up and down the length of it, and be unable to see why a bird would not just fly around the wire anytime it wanted to go somewhere. Furthermore, even if, one day at a time, you myopically inspect each wire, you still could not see why a bird could have trouble going past the wires to get anywhere. There is no physical property of any one wire, nothing that the closest scrutiny could discover, that would reveal how a bird could be inhibited or harmed by it except in the most accidental way. It is only when you step back, stop looking at the wires one by one, microscopically, and take a macroscopic view of the whole cage, that you can see why the bird does not go anywhere; and then you will see it in a moment. It will require no great subtlety of mental powers. It is perfectly obvious that the bird is surrounded by a network of systematically related barriers, no one of which would be the least hindrance to its flight, but which, by their relation to each other, are as confining as the solid walls of a dungeon.” — Marilyn Frye, from “Oppression”

So, I just wanted to share with you all this very interesting assignment – to encourage others to think and consider the wires of the cages which they, too, might be confined by.

With Love,
Savita

have you noticed how many patches we need these days to solve our problems?
- the patch to stop us from smoking
- the patch for hormones therapy, etc

there is also the patch solution

They say laughter is the best medicine
there is the patch adam and the patch eve
together you will find the a GAP e
Love and light
:)