Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Die hard.

I have walked in the rain.

Water as drizzle, as mist, as spittle. It merely taps on my skin, only damp, nothing menacing or pressurized, nothing harsh or vigorous. Drip. Drip. Drip.


I have run in the rain. Water as torrent. The back end of hurricane, having raced over ocean and mountain range, lashing and whipping its ferocity, rendering eyeglasses so wet they needed removing. Half blinded, soaked, ravaged. I ran.

But the sun...

The sun - oh, it has boiled and roasted and baked and burnt me. Made me faint. Made me freckle. Made me blister. It set. That sun. Our sun.

Our Son.

The Son, he has shone. He has glistened and warmed and enlightened and risen and fallen. That Son. Ours. Everyone's. Life's.

Shining. Shining. Shining.

The earth. She. (Why She?) She has absorbed both water and fire. The planet has embraced and fought off the onslaught, that rush of runoff down gullies and straight back to the sea. That sea of Everyone. Of Everything. That sea of yesterday and tomorrow. The earth. Our earth, from which grows both the flowers and the weeds. Those blossoms feeding the bees which make all of our survival possible. Those weeds which choke.

Those weeds which choke.

The earth. This earth. Our grounding and place and space in time. Mother earth.


Survival of the fittest means, what? Exactly, what?
What is 'fit'?
Is it physical? Mental? Spiritual? Emotional? All of these?

Four and a half decades have taught me that each is heaviest in value to some.
To the athlete, the physical - speed, grace, lift, rise, success. Winning at all cost. Glory.


To the scholar, the knowledge - the books read, the history, the supposition of what all the tomorrows mean. The Knowledge.


To the priest - the love, the compassion, the stories and learnings. The purity of soul, to repent for sins of the fathers. Of the mothers. Of the ancestors. All of them.

And in penitence, still greater Glory.

To the empath, that understanding. That yearning to wear those shoes. That need to feel. To be. To LIVE.

The greatest Glory of them all.

And we, Humanity, we are all of these. Yet one does not know the other. May not care to know the other.

We, Humanity, are so flawed. So splintered.
We, Humanity, are losing. Because we are against ourselves. And we are against ourselves because we remain too far within ourselves. Too engrossed in 'me'. When you look back at what is the greatest motivation, it most always starts from within.

We are born soft, but we die hard.

Like the pick of an ice sculptor, chipping off shards of the solid to make something which has only risen from her own imagination, we chip away at life until we shape what that meaning is for us and us alone.

And in the end, it really is us. Alone.

I have walked in the rain.
I have run in the rain.
Some days I make the rain.

Some days I am the rain.

The irony of this life is not lost on me. A bullied kid, moved country, became an immigrant, married to an immigrant in that country with whom I created an amazing little boy. This heart on legs, this warrior, this firestarter, this raging flood of possibility. This boy. Our boy. Society's 'problem'.

Our world.

Is it any wonder that we will die hard?

To people everywhere, there are flaws in us all.
But we are life. We are perfectly imperfect.

Our own trinity. Our own story. Our own rain, and sun, and earth, and moon, and stars, and planets and universe and oceans, and life, and history, and future.

"I am a part of all that I have met," said Tennyson.

We are all one, yet so separate.
Somewhere in between. Ebb and flow. Rain and fire and earth.

Life still rolls, and with it - so too do we.

Friday, 11 November 2016

Liberté, égalité, fraternité my ass.

The world has gone absolutely mad this week. This beautiful video aimed at taking away some of the worry that future parents of kids with Ds may have, has been banned from broadcast television in France. Seems two women who terminated their pregnancies couldn't face up to their choices and have used their guilt in an attempt to quash our ability to express our joy.

And now I'm furious.

There is little that is more offensive to me as Rukai's mother than hearing about people who abort their pregnancies going on to weep about 'losing their baby to Down's'. Because the fact is, unless there was a catastrophic birth defect involved, they did not lose their baby to anything other than fear. To anything other than their inability to cope with the idea of having a disabled child. To be entirely impotent in facing their truth. I find these types of people so weak. So shallow. And this has all just gone well beyond the pale.

Choice is choice and I completely agree we should be allowed to make them. In no way do I judge anyone for having made such a choice. But if you cannot own the choices you make, if you cannot admit that you just didn't want to have a disabled child, you cannot admit that you just can't face putting in the bit of extra time and care and you cannot admit that you just don't want to have to change your path to focus that little bit more on any other human being than on yourself, well then frankly you are a pathetic coward. Own. Your. Bloody. Choice. Done mincing my words. Done. I don't care a dot if you've made that choice. It is yours.

Own it.

I'm so tired of playing nice to avoid upsetting other people. I'm upset too. My feelings count too.

Just as much as theirs do.

He's not yet five and I am already sick to the back teeth of constantly fighting society for Rukai's right to exist. I'm fed up with constantly having to live on the defensive. If there is anything tragic about having a disabled child, it is precisely that. The rest is not the disaster most of the rhetoric flying around would lead you to believe. My son is difficult sometimes, true. But he is also a four year old boy. What peer would be a constant angel? None. Zilch. Rhetoric is dangerous, as we've seen so often in the news this year. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Don't believe everything you read.

What people like this pitifully biased council do not realize is that this type of thing only energizes people like me more. We will not quit. We will not back down. We will not go quiet. Try us. Try us. Try us.

In the end, it is you who will lose.

Because despite your every effort to make us cry into our pillows at night instead we smile and play and laugh and dance our way through our day. We argue and shout and discipline our way through our day. We fight and champion and shape and nurture our way through our day. We teach and we challenge and we live without regrets through our day. All day. Every day. How dare anyone try to put a muzzle on our joy? We will talk. We will bark. We will howl at the bloody moon.

You will not shut us up.

The biggest sorrow in my life is actually that there is a huge number of people on this planet who don't have the first clue just how 'typical' - or using their favorite word, 'normal' - this life can actually be. The prospect of it once scared the everloving shit out of me. But the only thing that scares me now is what close-mindedness we are up against, all day. Every day. And what that will mean for Rukai when he grows up. It's not his ability I'm worried about. It's society's.

Liberté, égalité, fraternité my ass.

But fear has yet to stop me from moving forward. Onward we march. Upward we go.

Here's the clip.
Here's an explanation of the decision.

*Opinions in this post are entirely my own and not representative of any other individuals or bodies.