Aperture

“I've been thinking lately
How seasons fall apart back to the start
Should I share how I feel
Or bury it inside, or bury it inside?”
Ibeyi, “Transmission/Michaelion” 

Full Moon in Aries apparently meant that I would manifest an Aries Moon for some lessons. Go figure. I don’t know what happened energetically with the last of September, but I was down for the count. I had been emotionally available for so many people, directly or indirectly, that I was physically exhausted. I had to call it quits for a bit and say that I couldn’t be there for people that I genuinely love because I was trying to regain the energy that I had put elsewhere. No regrets, but I’ve been more and more aware from the way that events have unfolded and how they have landed on my heart. 

Some of the things that went down swept me away. Made me forget that my feet were firmly planted. But even in the face of everything, I knew some things where certain. That I had a roof over my head. That I had access to clean water while Flint STILL doesn’t. That I live in a pocket of Bushwick that hasn’t been gentrified yet. But Hurricanes Irma and Maria have added another layer to the bonita banderas I see on my walks. That my pocket, and new community, is hurting. So many people in pain trying to figure out how to give to those who have had everything washed away from them. 

I can only imagine it’s similar to the pain that I feel with roots coming from somewhere right next door - St. Kitts. But I know where my extended family members are. I can call them. And when I get my act together, I can visit/return. For this alone I am blessed. I’ve witnessed others of the Caribbean Diaspora - Black, Latinx and especially at that intersection - respond in a way that truly puts all of our governments to shame. How in spite of not having much when prescribing to capitalistic standards, there are countless collection drives and fundraisers happening across the 5 boroughs. On the heels of all of the anniversaries of Katrina and Andrew, these same said communities, Black and Brown, were being hit the hardest. 

you see the jaguar is on the coat of arms of a place I’ve never been
but feel so attached to
to those untouched trees that we call a part of the Amazon
filled with ancestors that made it a new home
filled with ancestors that still call it a home
probably Dahomey Amazons too
what a blessing to have been at gathering
or to have even seen it
in the midst of such tragedy
woops wait maybe i’ve already seen it
seen it in my Father’s wisdom
that goes beyond beyond his years
his calm in the fact of the unknown
maybe that’s why he trust water so much
coming from those relatively
untouched lands
coming from the deepest rivers
meanwhile I’m a reluctant cat that can’t even swim 

Two weeks ago in Harlem, I heard spiritual elders remark on the irony of these storms impacting the very people who have been guardians. Guardians of the Earth, of the trees, and the waters. But then, a current throughout the entire Trade/itions gathering was that while these storms occur, there is nothing natural in these disasters. That they are reflections of how we, as a collective, have been treating our home. And our home has evicted some of us. It has ripped away everything and brought us to our knees and asking everything Divine how came this is happening to us. But here we are asking the same questions about accountability of the people that we have elected and the systems that we have subscribed to, and I’m left wondering why we as people have a tendency to support each other in mass like this when there is a massive loss. 

Or, as Dr. Marta Moreno Vega put it, how are we going to move towards “an activism of thriving as opposed to an activism of struggling”? What kind of future does that require? What kind of work do we have to do as ancestors in the making to ensure that the next Seven generations can be that vision of activism rooted in thriving? And can we even talk about any of this and/or the next Seven when so many of my people are doubting having children because of the world that that they would be brought into? How can refocus or intentions and our attention where it is needed both in lands far away and down the block?

It’s becoming more and more acceptable to set up a GoFundMe or YouCaring to get resources than having resources provided for us in a stolen land that, on paper, is supposed to be the greatest nation in the world. If we’re so great, why do we still treat Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Guam and Hawaii like colonies? Or am I not supposed to connect those dots? My people are still doing it themselves, but still dying on multiple levels. While there are physical vessels transitioning, and reports are coming in of families in Puerto Rico burying their loved ones in their backyards because help never came, those of us left with these and other questions are struggling to grieve. 

A message I’ve gotten from this Harvest moon is that in spite of everything that I’ve named, that is it possible to continue living and moving at the speed of trust. That is is possible to support others and be supported. To be loved and love. That we can talk about climate change in the outer world and in our inner worlds no more than ever as we head deeper in Fall. Especially as the veil between those inner and outer worlds thin, there is something to be said about navigating the apparent contradictions of living expansive lives in the face of Death and chaos. To perhaps treat ourselves as houses on stilts, so that we can move and be moved when needed. So that we can step into the unknown as well as we expect the seasons to change our landscape. Focused, yet unfocused in that void. 
 

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“Invite your fears to the altar of this harvest moon
Moon, teach us how to recover when we are burned by violence.
When violence soaks our bones heavy, it's easy to forget what is true.
Remind us we are the ocean. The same 14 billion year old atoms that make up the seas are a part of us. We are the ocean in human form.
When the echoes of violence are mixed with the salt water of our tears, show us that the universe chose to weave us with the same intelligence of stars.
Remind us how to soften at the pace of the Earth. Slow enough to re-ignite our connection and feed our imagination.
Forgive us for how we’ve inherited how to cause pain. The Earth is not a burial ground for our shortcomings.
Remind our pain and resilience they can co-exist. They have much to learn from one another.
Ignite our no. Our hard boundaries against loving capitalism more than we love the Earth.
Like you, we are proof healing is possible. May we move with this possibility as we nurture the rubble of our broken tender hearts, and tend to the unnatural disasters that haunt our Earth.”
- Adaku Utah