In the Heart Lives Justice

You can enslave a body.
You can even trick a mind into believing it’s so.
But you’ll never enslave a heart that knows its right to be free.

You can cage a body.
You can manipulate the mind to believe it’s locked.
But you’ll never smother a heart from being free.

You can cast a body into darkness.
You can convince the mind that it’s in an abyss.
But you’ll never consume the light from the heart.

You can refuse to see the effects of bondage.
You can let your mind choose deafness.
But you’ll never silence a heart that longs for justice.

You can turn away from the past.
You can silence your mind to the facts.
But the heart that has been chained will not let you rest.

You can busy the body endlessly.
You can overwhelm the mind with details.
But you can’t silence a heart that grows toward the sunlight.

You can use a body as a barrier.
You can chain a mind to the fools.
But another’s heart you cannot own.

You can kill the body.
You can kill the mind.
But the heart’s beat will be heard beyond its life.

You can take a body.
You can take over a mind.
But the heart chooses why it beats.

You can jail a body.
You can incarcerate a mind.
The heart roams where it wants.

You can beat a body.
You can gaslight a mind.
But the heart is made of freedom.

You can chain a body.
You can warp the mind.
You can’t fool the heart.

You can blind the body.
You can persuade the mind it’s captive.
But the heart will always know it beats for the whole.

You can keep a body in poverty.
You can train a mind to believe it’s stuck.
The heart will always know it belongs to the universe.

You can separate a body from its birthright.
You can teach a mind to hate.
But the heart yearns to be free from that bondage.

You can engulf the body in hegemony.
You can train the mind to ignore bias.
The heart absorbs the toxins.

You can dress a body like it’s free.
You can teach a mind to live in the masses.
But the heart will continue to cry out: No justice, no peace.

Debora Lynn Garcia


So my father died, and I was just thinking….

I got something HUGE out of sitting in the silence just now.


I was on my deck listening to the breeze, wind chimes, and my wonderful miniature wind gong.  My father died a couple of days ago.  I was taking a breather from an emotional few weeks and an emotional data dump into another solar system (well, that’s what it felt like) that I just released on Facebook a couple hours earlier.  My dear friend, Moe, sent me a note of encouragement about my Facebook post (data dump) and my previous blog post (“The Dark Soul and Little Spitfire), and I stated something to him about how many of my blog posts have a distinct topic, but are vague or esoteric in nature.  That is by design — no accident, because it is kind of like a song.  You know how a song means different things to different people?  I might hear a song one way, and you hear it differently, or it has a different meaning for me than you.  That is the reason I am vague and casual in my blog posts many times.  I want the topic to be clear, but the parameters to be set by the reader.  This way it can have many meanings, and the meaning/s can even change over time as our thinking and experiences evolve as well.

I think my style is effective for the purposes I mentioned above.  However, here’s the meat.  What I got while sitting in the silence was how extremely ineffective it has been for me in my real, in-living-color life.  I am a natural introvert, and a reluctantly-learned extrovert; so this is a tragic, perfect fit.  There are times in life when diplomacy is most certainly called for, and a lack of it can cause more harm than good.  There are times when tact and/or caution are necessary.  But I see how tip-toeing around myself in order to avoid injury to others down my path of personal healing has only prolonged and deepened the injuries.  I am not saying one should just bulldoze over people and their feelings, but I AM saying that I have forgotten who I am to myself.  I have forgotten to treat myself like the one and only me that I will ever, ever, EVER have.  Why should I not treat myself the way I try to treat others whom I revere, and the way that I advise them to treat themselves?  So rather than opening myself up to personal things, I am… VAGUE.  And if I want to get deep with it, that’s not really an honest way of being.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I can talk and TALK about all kinds of things.  I have been told more than a few times that I talk too much!  But if you’re one to really pay attention, you would notice that next to none or absolutely ZERO of what I was talking about had anything very personal or vulnerable about me in it.  If you feel this is not true about me, then consider yourself one of the chosen extreme few.  That’s not bragging, by the way, it’s part of today’s epiphany.

I also get that my vague style of communicating personal things is a protection.  I am sure as I am Irish that it is my own training.  All the way to his death, if you didn’t agree with my father, you were going to pay.  So, I mastered “vague.”  Hell, I JUST said to my husband THIS very morning after I posted my data dump, “I will probably never fully trust anyone.” Wow. Way to go…  Team… ➟➟ of ONE!  How convenient for someone who wants to stay stuck in the beige realm.  (Is that taupe or ecru?  No one really knows.)

I will remember to revere 

myself,

and take care of 

my one and
only 

ME! 

Finally, what I got in the silence today is that by being vague about how I feel, or stepping around things, as my cousin and I talked about, rather than going through them, I’m setting myself and others up to be nuked or data dumped on — like today.  I have lots of feelings and words just swarming around dying to get out!  So if I pressure cook them without releasing the valve at the appropriate time, “She’s gonna blow, Captain!”  What I said in my post on Facebook, I meant.  My regret is that I didn’t say it all sooner and handle it under the category of self-care rather than anger and hurt.

An Aside:  I just took a break from writing this blog post to read some of  the comments on Facebook.  After I posted my blast, I purposely ignored it for a while.  I was fully expecting some cricket noises, maybe a few thumbs-up, and possibly some negative returns.  But I am in tears right now instead at the support I have received.  This is what happens when you put yourself on an island in your mind instead of sharing.  You begin to think you are alone in your feelings and experiences.  I am touched by the kind and caring comments, as well as some private messages, text messages, and phone calls I have received in response.  I hate to sound cliché, but my mind is just blown.  It is time for me to do the work of someone who is ready to move forward from where I’ve been stuck.

I am sad.  I am tired.  My head hurts.  I feel a little less angry today, but I see I have a ways to go, and I fully understand it is totally up to me to find my way to peace.  This is a journey I have to take alone.  I don’t mean that in that lonely, sad way — like “I don’t want anyone around” way, or “There is no one to help me” lugubrious way.  It just is what it is!  Some lessons and transformation are truly and simply a journey for one.

So, what am I going to do about this revelation?  What am I going to do next?  I’m going to buy more wind chimes, that’s for sure.  Those things are MAGIC… like Tinkerbell!  For sure I need to be responsible.  What that looks like is no longer allowing people to abuse my time, which includes family gossip and anything or anyone that just doesn’t feel good or right, or anything that puts me in the position of aligning myself with someone that consistently and purposely makes others feel bad.  After that… I need to stay present and conscious, and I’ll just keep breathing (both directions), learning, and sharing.  

Stay with me.  I’m sure my ride is not over.

ღ Love yourself.

Little Spitfire
I would like to go back
and hug her so tight!

Debora Lynn

P.S.  “Follow” my blog if you want to keep up with me (button on the far right side).  Some of my posts are going to change tone.  When it makes sense, you’re going to see more clearly who I’m writing about. 


The Dark Soul and Little Spitfire

A story that starts over and over again to have a happy ending
  
Allegory
Once upon a time, there was an evil man with an infectious smile and a big sense of humor — but a dark soul, he was.  Nothing good about this man was genuine.  He smiled on the outside, but his insides were murky and sour.  He covered it up by putting on a gregarious and charitable act for all to see, but in the dark is where he crafted his masterpiece of deceit and lies.  His energy was strongest in the dark where no one could see and where he could keep his secrets hidden.  In the dark was where he lured his victims, where he would devour them with enticements of money and favors that they could never repay fully, except with the defeat and surrender of their consciences.  Even then, this Dark Soul would not be done with you.  Once you bowed to him, you were eternally damned with only one way out.  That way was a rarely chosen one which forced the affected to leave all behind.  His force was so strong, and so dense was his canvas of lies, that only a scant few could see out.  Some who saw through his darkness continued to pander to him anyway out of fear.  If you walked through the blinding exit, your true essence would be forgotten by all that you knew and loved, eclipsed by the grimy portrait of lies painted by the Dark Soul that sucked the good out of everything he touched.  He breathed in what goodness he could find and regurgitated stench; and when he breathed in stench, he regurgitated his own demons that were always someone else’s fault.
History
There was a little soul, a Little Spitfire born to the Dark Soul and a Family of Light.  She was innocent to the inner workings of the dark side.  But as she matured she began to come into her own mind, and she began to see the contrast between the Dark Soul and the Family of Light.  She also began to come into her own awareness about the world around her — the world she was immersed in.  This was the corner the Dark Soul missed when he brought the little soul into the world.  He misjudged his own powers of influence and mistakenly thought that he was stronger than all else.  After all, the evidence was there that he was the great influencer, was it not?   But indeed he had not learned that the Light is always greater than darkness; he had born his daughter into the Family of Light as well as his own, and he had immersed his daughter into a world full of life, colorful surroundings, and cultures.  As his darkness grew, so did the little soul’s awareness.  Her immediate surroundings became intolerable, as he not only weighed on her illuminated conscience, but also weighed heavy on her little heart.  The Dark Soul’s abuse was growing in the dark that was beginning to take over.  Then one day the Light Protector decided it had become too dark for anyone to grow, and gave the Little Spitfire the option to stay where she thought she knew her surroundings, or to come with her and live where only Light was allowed.  Having had enough of the stench of the darkness, the 13 year old Little Spitfire chose to go with the Light Protector.  She had no idea that nearly an entire family would turn away from her because of her choice to grow — even her grandparents.
As the years passed, Little Spitfire and Light Protector grew and learned together.  The Dark Soul tormented them whenever and wherever he could for years.  He ruined vehicles, stole jewelry, would call endlessly, spoke horrible language, and stole money from Little Spitfire.  He even enlisted other family members, childhood friends of Little Spitfire, and friends of Light Protector to keep tabs on them for him.  He relied on their gossip and willingly and relentlessly spread untruths about them to his own family and friends.  The Dark Soul even entered Little Spitfire’s school one day shouting epithets at her teachers and administrators to coerce them to have her removed.  Fortunately, it only caused them to frown upon him and feel bad for his embarrassed Little Spitfire, and he was banished from the grounds.  He did anything he could to spread the darkness.  He knew he couldn’t survive in the Light.  Every nasty, big or little thing he did to them, he would turn into a different story to his comrades and family.  His stories were so big and he held so much power, that nearly 40 years later these stories are still believed as the truth, and have been retold and spread by many.  Interestingly enough, not one word has ever been said directly by any of these players to the Little Spitfire or the Light Protector directly about any of these stories.  One can only surmise that it must be easier to believe a lie than to find out the hard truth about everything you thought you knew.
Several years passed, and the Dark Soul was only heard from intermittently with an occasional drive-by, or through packages of old pictures or knick-knacks being left anonymously on the Light Protector’s doorstep.  Spitfire had grown into her own life by now, but was living in the darkness of the trauma left behind from him.  For a while, it seemed that his darkness had followed her and was going to live on through her.  She didn’t realize it until she made a lot of mistakes, some which hurt other people, but most hurt her own life.  Spitfire had an awakening one day when the Light shone on her just right, and she realized that she had little souls of her own that were being affected by the Dark Soul, though his physical presence was absent.  She was at once angrier than she had ever been in her life, but quickly realized that this anger had been the downfall all along — that it had been the remaining shade casting out the Light trying so hard to pull her through for so many years.  In the realization alone, the warmth from the Light began to spread, and little by little, more became illuminated.   The most important thing that showed up for Spitfire was herself, and the realization that she held all the power for herself and her little souls all along.  She had just forgotten in the darkness to open her eyes.
The next chapter in Spitfire’s life was challenging as she learned a new way of thinking and teaching her little souls and for herself.  She had to learn to love the forgotten life she hated in order to have Light everywhere.  Darkness can be like an addiction, and can suck you back in when you aren’t paying attention.  So Spitfire tried very hard to be aware of her surroundings at all times.  Again, she made lots of mistakes, but always brushed herself off and vowed to never make the same mistake twice.  Her biggest wish was for her little souls to grow in the Light and not have to know the darkness that she did.  She worked diligently to cultivate the characteristics in them that the Dark Soul would never have taught — diplomacy, honesty, sincerity, tenacity, decency, impartiality, frankness, honor, unconditional love — whatever she felt were crucial to a life of integrity and courage.
By now, Spitfire’s little souls were on their own, and as some of us do when we feel we have forgiven those in dark places, we think we are strong enough to go back and visit.  We think we have risen above and feel that somehow we “should” out of a forgiving spirit.  And so it goes, that we learn all the while we live.  At least, that’s the point of it anyway.  A few of us choose to ignore the lessons and are doomed to repeat them.  So Spitfire went back for a visit, and she stayed for a while until once again, the Dark Soul began casting his shadows upon her life.  She realized that he was one of those that would die having never learned, and would take with him his darkness to the very end.  And sadly, those that would mourn for him would never know the true Light as long as they remained under his cloak of darkness and refused to even peer into the Light.  Spitfire learned that forgiveness does not mean you need to revisit darkness to show the strength of forgiveness.  The strength of forgiveness is shown in the manner in which we live our lives.  It is in the proof that we do not repeat the mistakes from which we turned.  The lesson is proven when we realize that those scars caused in the darkness are ours forever, but not to pass down and share.  They are only bookmarks, or reminders, like those pushpins on a map.  The Light is shown when we no longer pretend to or show reverence for the darkness that caused the scars, and refuse to lend credence and participation to the Dark Soul’s insidious ego any longer. 
Today
Spitfire has come to realize that even in death, the Dark Soul will live on through those that carry out his legacy of darkness, and it will continue to be repeated until someone says, “Enough!” and chooses the Light instead.  She chose a different world for herself and for her little souls so that eventually his darkness will end.  Light always wins over darkness, but it is a conscious choice.  It was the best choice, but it was not an easy path.  She will remain forever grateful for her Family of Light that showed her a dichotomy in her bubble.  She remains strong in her resolve, but unsure if she would have recognized that it was the Light shining on her without them.  Her early training in the darkness has caused a ripple that is a constant struggle against her own worst self, but the Light shines so bright on her awareness that she can never become unconscious again.  Sometimes it’s up to the beholder to give broken things a purpose.
Lessons continue, and darkness is always waiting.  Spitfire will always keep her head up so she can see, and protect her own to the end.  She knows about the cycle.  It is illuminated now and cannot be unseen.  She thinks to herself how she would have liked to have learned these lessons another way, but she understands that this must have been what it took to change the course for her little souls and her to have a different life.
Goodbye, Dark Soul.  You’ll have to leave without me.”

Sometimes it’s up to the beholder
to give broken things a purpose.
Light always wins.

A Day In the Life of a Sensitive Soul

Sensitive soul
Seized by ugliness
Surrounded by meanness
Hemmed in by damage
I absorb it all down through my soul
My cells weakened by it all
My soul can’t take another hit
I wonder why I am so sensitive
Why I attract damaged souls
Irrationality finds me under every glimmer
Why can’t I be Teflon

My soul craves peace, but it eludes me at every turn
Teases me at every corner
Calls out to me behind every door
Blows by the window
Wafts by my face
Flits about my nose
Taps me on my head
Brushes against me
Before it whisks away, never to stay

Too hurt to reach out anymore
Too tired of being turned upon
Too unsure of what to do next
Too bewildered by misunderstanding
Longing for days that won’t come back
Regretting choices that can’t be turned around
Betrayed by promises never fulfilled
Saddened by bottomless circumstances
Disillusioned by treacherous souls
Weary from forcing smiles
I dream of days of do-overs

It all affects me
Family, friends, health, the news, the world
I am paralyzed today
Unable to move
Laden with the weight of it all
Absorbed by my super soft cells
Like an infinite sponge
Incapable of wringing it away
Disabled by my thoughts

Knowing how some that call me love would see this
Only stumbles me more
Shoves me down further
Smothers me like a sack
At once stirs up fiery anger
And echoing sadness in a mix
That anchors me in my hole
Filled up with my own slippery thoughts
They don’t understand
And see me with eyes that lack empathy
I don’t need sympathy
But I know it’s a rare gem that feels it, too

And now the clock is speeding up
I have but hours to climb up
To fix my face, my home, my meals
To adjust my thoughts, finish my tasks
To find my smile and practice my laugh
Before my time is no longer mine alone
Because the day is more important
Because the few who rely on me mean more
At least that is what I tell myself, but really
Because only sensitive souls are supposed to know

                       by Debora Lynn Garcia



The Sole Problem of the Soul Problem Is a Heart Condition

I am angry today.  Actually, I am pissed!  Admittedly, it is not just today, though.  It has been many days for much of my life about the same issue.  But lately, and especially this week, I am angry to my core.  It is sad to say that it speaks of my very essence in this moment.  I know this, am clear about it, and am working on it.  I am told I am a green chakra, the heart chakra. Perhaps this is why I feel so deeply about what has been going on with race relations in this country.  I am sure it is why I feel deeply .

I agree that guns are not THE problem. Bottom line is that an absence of love is the “soul” root of it. However, guns and gun attitudes are a contributor to the problem. How to solve this, the conundrum. On a related note, I do think if you have actual amorous feelings for your lethal weapon of choice, and/or you think it is actually an ANSWER to what is going on, then there is something wrong in your head. If you read that last statement to mean that I am against guns for self-protection, I suggest you get out of the head I was speaking of and re-read it. Do not bother arguing with me on this because I am not wrong, and there is no way to prove otherwise, so do not send me your manipulated stats or stories to prove something to me. The only thing that will prove is that you are still missing the point.

Oh, and by the way, just because someone chooses not to own a gun does not make them a “pussy,” as a few of you have so eloquently put it! If a person is not comfortable with a lethal weapon, then they should not have one. Shut the hell up with that, seriously. Guns are NOT for everyone… as evidenced by every other day on the news! Here is another thing on that note to shut the hell up about:  it being a liberal agenda.

If you are sick and tired of me being on my soapbox about the gun issue, or about the way people of color are seen and treated, whether friend or family, say goodbye to me now, because I will not sit down and be quiet.

If red-headed, freckled, or blonde and blue-eyed, or people that look like me (white, brunette with brown eyes) were being marginalized — or worse  — were being TARGETED for slaughter (YES, SLAUGHTER!), would you still be sitting quietly? Would you still be rolling your eyes at me if these people being assassinated, murdered, looked like your very own children???  This is the world I have had to bring my children up in, and that my children will have to bring their children up in. I had hoped for so much more! And if you still cannot seem to align your conscience with this, consider that it is the same world you are bringing your white children up in. Hello!  The huge difference is that some of these people have targets on them. Would you feel differently then?  What if it was YOUR sweet little seven year old blonde daughter… your 87 year old grandfather… your favorite red-headed Irish pastor… your young up-and-coming cousin…  the single mom next door…?  See?  THAT difference of reaction is an ABSENCE of love at its core! And I CANNOT tolerate it and neither should you! I’m so SICK of the apathy.  As I stated in a previous post:

Your disinterest in what I have to say, your scoffing at my personhood and my knowledge and feelings, your racial brush-off to me translates that you think that somehow my children are less important to me than your children are to you.  

And I will add to that to be even more clear:   Not only is there a disconnect in that some do not comprehend in real-time how important my children are to me, but the really scary part is that my children’s value is MADE less because they do not look like them, because they are black.  Their lives are not as valued.  (And, yes, literally my children are biracial. No need to attempt to make a point with that here.  Truth is, when my children walk out my door, the world sees a black person.  And even if they were able to see a biracial or multiracial person, they would still marginalize them because of it. Because… not white.

My oldest (“Sweet”) shortly before he got promoted to big brother in 1989.  Then, I had hopef thst the world would be a kinder, more fair place for him.  Still hoping.


The very same people who were up in arms over Sandy Hook or the Colorado movie theater slaughter (rightfully so) are now silent about the Charleston 9 terrorist attack, and it is noticeable. So I do not think it is only the terrorists in these incidents whose heads need to be examined. Further, it is not just a problem in the head, it is a heart condition, a sick soul condition in mankind. I cannot say “in humanity ” because sometimes I feel I can barely sense its existence.

So if you now find yourself annoyed with me over this, I label you as having also a listening problem and incapable of examining yourself and how your very own attitude actually plays a role in this soul sickness.  Another label.  No one likes them.

Yeah, I am BEYOND angry. Fed up. In fact, for once, I cannot even find that single adjective to describe my feelings. What I recognize is I am struggling with anger and do not like it, and that I will no longer participate with others in stifling myself.

I have some work to do.  I hope you recognize what there is for you to do.