From Chaos to Compassion to Cruising Altitude – Healing Conversations About Racism with Rhonda

May 31st was my 69th birthday amidst a pandemic that was made even more complicated by the murder of George Floyd and what has been unleashed since.

I woke up feeling sad and exhausted, had a migraine brewing, and yet took responsibility for reaching for up-leveling my own energy. I was choosing to focus on love before letting my feet hit the floor.

It was a work in process. It was a new day, and I was happy to have finally completed my FREE COVID-19 online Advance Directive Mini-Course soon to be launched. Every link was in place on Saturday evening thanks to my amazing and patient web-guy.

I was looking forward to taking my birthday off before beginning to imagine the ways I could get it my course into the hands of as many people as possible to minimize the fears as a result of COVID-19 that we all face, especially essential workers and those who are at highest risk.

But, my heart was heavy. I was feeling the repulsive energy of one more of way too many senseless murders of blacks at the hands… or knees of a total misuse of power.

Far beyond race, my mama bear instincts, gut reaction, and responsive heartache were clearly triggered and turned inside-out and upside-down as we all witnessed the killing of George Floyd before our very eyes. To me, he is not black, but someone’s son! My heart aches for his mother, his family, his friends. There are good cops and bad agents. There are peaceful protestors and looters. These are all the result of systemic racism.

Having participated in many protests over time, I wondered what this ‘old hippie’ could do that would matter. I wondered if things would ever change, and questioned how could we still be marching about this s#@*.

Fueled by the pain caused by the pandemic, especially for the marginalized, this murder ripped the scab yet again off a very deep over 400-year-old wound that has never been fully triaged, acknowledged or addressed.

I felt all of this while painfully aware of my white privilege, and at the same time feeling a taste of the anger that resonated in me because women have also been abused, minimized, and held down over time by the ‘power-over’ interpretation of ‘freedom.’

Comparing pain does little good, but it tasted familiar, helping me to relate and empathize. Still, nonsensical. How can this still be? My heart doesn’t understand the numbness that prevents so many from respecting all humans. Until we are all free, no one is free.

Please let us find a way to awaken and re-write the story!