We are part of a larger picture

These are the mountains where I spent my childhood. Tall pine forests. Clean air. Snow on all sides, a deep stillness. It takes me three days in a cabin to feel that stillness within me. I have been in crisis-mode since the inauguration, unable to take a full deep breath. That’s the trick of oppression, to keep us in a perpetual state of rapid-response, unable to lay order to the chaos, to set down a clear narrative. The onslaught of executive orders blur together, as do the hate crimes, and our petitions and protests. A lifetime of activism has taught me that self-care is essential. And yet there have been days when I do not remember eating or sleeping. A full week when I did not step outdoors, feel sunlight on my face, or breathe fresh air. I had forgotten the stars, burning so strong and so long that their light reaches us long after they have died. Isn’t that what our activism should look like? Not the supernova, a single outburst under pressure. We must be the long burning star, bright and steady, contained and sustained, for our energy to reach the next generation long after we die. Oh and to be part of constellations! Let us see ourselves as part of a larger picture, even if we are like the second star on Orion’s Belt, or the seventh of the Seven Sisters. For there is no greater gift than to be part of a movement larger than ourselves. That means that we only need to be responsible for our small section of sky, our own specific area of influence. We need only to shine our particular point of light, long and steady, to become part of stories sown into the sky, into collective memory. So this week, I lay down my sword long enough to remember how to eat with all my senses and sleep all eight hours, and to show my son the Sierras, so that one day he can bring his children here and remember his place in things too. #RevolutionaryLove