aches, pains. you, me.

Look, I am a nobody. 

Meaning, no one really listens to my podcast, or reads my blog. 

My books don’t really sell, and my poetry is mediocre at best. 

I am just one of you and you are one of me.

It means more now, to say it that way. 

To feel it that way. 

My need to write isn’t to be heard. 

It is to learn.

To remember.

To forget.

I embrace the parts of me that are stunted but also recognize that everything I let be is a choice, and stagnancy can be unclogged with a bit of effort.

We are all being affected right now.

But we have always affected one another.

That is why we travel and fetishize people and cultures. 

We are always up each other’s sleeve, and in each other’s cup.

We are drinking our distilled and filtered urine.

We breathe the same air.

Fame is a farce and so is paper money.

We live inside each other in the most intimate ways yet—why do so many of us have such contempt for humanity?

Now, what I’m about to write is a personal statement about why I have such contempt for us, including myself. I am never far from my own judgments. It would be silly to think I am exempt. 

Humanity has been on a steady downfall since I could first acknowledge such a thought. 

I’ll say it was maybe 1984 when the thought of it came into my child brain. 

I was being molested and raped at that point by a man who was supposed to be taking care of me; his wife was an onlooker. 

This is a story I have heard in many other guises.

A father abusing his daughter.

A mother abusing her son.

A nun.

A priest.

A teacher.

A friend.

A husband.

A wife.

A stranger

The list is endless, and disgusting.

Now, how does this relate to the circumstances facing us on this day, March 18, 2020?

Mostly, if taken a bit out of context, it is the normalcy of corruption on both the small and large scale.

The failing of integrity.

The filth that is fed down to generations of peoples, expecting no detrimental outcome. 

The pain that it brings, and how we’re not taught to make it constructive.

How easily we place blame.

How we take no responsibility.

How we are put against one another in so many ways, and how easily we digest these ways.

My contempt lies in how I’ve approached my own trauma, and how I began viewing the world and the people in it. 

I grew up angry, malnourished and miserable.

I ate greedily of all things obscene. 

I treated myself how I had come accustomed to feeling.

I never bothered to listen to the voice inside me. 

There’s a Buddhist story I believe, that talks about hiding our most divine in the place we would hardly think of looking; inside ourselves.

So that’s where it lives.

That goodness.

That acceptance.

But where did we go wrong?

When did the world begin to destroy itself?

This is an ancient question, and I am only 40 years on this Earth.

But I have been on a hunt for this answer.

What is greed?




noun: greed

intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.

It is from Old English grædig, or “voracious,” which means “always hungry for more.”

Why are we this way?

So hungry.

I know I’ve always struggled with this. 

This need to horde food, feelings, emotions.

This feeling of feeling incomplete.

I believe everyone feels this way, that’s why we do things like write, paint, dance, fuck, sing, swim, play sports, drink in excess, eat in excess.


We are trying to feed the deficit limbs inside us.

Trying to extend ourselves.

Coaxing these ghost limbs to grow.

We are trying to nurture what was ignored.

Which means, we are living in a planet that has rejected the basic needs of its children and the basic needs of itself.

If we don’t care about the well-being of the bodies we’re in and the bodies we’ve birthed, how are we to see that what we’re also ignoring is the world we’re fastened to?

My contempt lies in this.

The lack of care we have for nature.

The lack of care that we have for sharing the wealth of our abundance. 

We are blessed here.

If you are reading this, you are blessed.

But you are also at risk, because your blessings have hindered you.

We are not as strong as our ancestors.

They had a secret I wish I knew.

My own great-grandmother was blind. Her eyes; white marbled cataracts.

But her keen sense helped her see.

Helped her cook the meals she served her children, even while blind.

The memories inside her cautioned that sight lives in the palms, ears, and feet.

This is the lesson I take.

Love makes us see.

Eyes live in everything.

The Universe is watching.

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