#occupymystreet
Mine is a quiet revolution.
As the world takes to the streets in defiance, I take to my life in peace.
Mine is a quiet revolution.
As the world has days of rage, so I have days of self-discovery.
Mine is a quiet revolution.
My revolution is one of remembering. Remembering that there is no us, and there is no them. There is no fight to be had, but within myself. And that the war waged is only for my own remembering. My own peace. My own wholeness. My own responsibility.
Injustices live on, but only when I partake in them. The victim of the man is the man. The evil corporations only have as much power as I give them, and the only way to fight a pretend dragon is to recognize that it doesn’t exist. Unless I want it to; unless I feed it with opposition.
Mine is a quiet revolution.
It happens when I hang sun-dried clothes, and when I massage a loaf of bread into existence. It happens when I nourish a garden and give the grocery store one less occupant. It happens when I turn off the television and write stories instead. When I listen to my child with my whole heart, without distraction. When I smile at those I pass. When I love without expectations.
It whispers in my words – the change of the soul – to anyone who’s ready to hear it. It does not demand; but trickles like water over a stone. In time, the trickle creates a monumental change. A valley of realization, for all the world to know.
Mine is a quiet revolution.
Even so, I know that others deserve their loud revolutions. They bring tears of joy to my heart. They ring of one. One belief. One goal. One common, moving world that aches for freedom.
I hear their broadcast drum beat, as it’s the same one that echoes in my chest. The one that cries for self-induced salvation, that sings for equality, that begs for consideration from all corners of the world. It’s the drum beat that sounds for change.
I know that “bad” exists, only that we may learn to define our own “good.” I know the ghostly powers that pretend to enslave only do so that we may understand our own inherent, magnificent freedoms.
Without darkness, there would be no light. Without the opposing forces, there would be no revolution to be had. The magic exists in the duality of our world, regardless of whether or not we choose to see it. We rebel only because there is something to rebel against.
There is no us. And there is no them. There is only choice.
And the choice that calls me is one of inclusion, thoughtful responsibility, and understanding.
Mine is a quiet revolution.
–
The winds of change, they’re everywhere these days. It’s undeniable, and it’s palpable. We live in interesting times.
Tonight, as I was watching bits of the Occupy Wall Street protest (which uses the Twitter hashtag #occupywallstreet, which is where the title came from) in New York City, I felt the tug, the incredible urge to be one of them, fighting for what I believe in.
And then I realized, I already am. With every decision I make. With every word I speak and write. So do you.
Mine is a quiet revolution, and I’m guessing yours is, too.
We don’t need to run out, carrying signs and banging drums to be involved. In fact, I’d guess that our revolution – those of mothers and daughters and sisters (and even brothers sometimes) – the one that takes place in our house, in our family, and on OUR street, is just as important as the ones that take place elsewhere.
Ours may be a quiet revolution, but it’s one that will withstand the test of time. It is not a fight against someone else. It’s a self discovery, it’s compassion, and it’s the willingness to participate in our own life’s creation – instead of handing it over to television, magazines, fashion, or even the expectations of those around us.
I wrote this because I don’t want us to feel left out. I want us all to understand that we’re doing our part in this monumental self-discovery of our humanity in ourselves, our families, and our neighborhoods.
If you hear the drumbeat in your own heart, I ask you to write about it and share it with others – whether it’s on your blog, to your local newspaper, or with your friends and family. Tweet about it. Make #occupymystreet go viral.
Ours is a quiet revolution.
But it’s one that will change our lives, and the world, forever.
(We are women. We are mothers. We … are … creation. Embodied. Don’t forget that.)
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