WE THE PEOPLE

I am completely in awe at how compliant a species we are. I live in country that boast equality and quality for all, but the fact of the matter is that it's really for a select few. A country where our rights and liberties were hard fought for by our predecessors, is now a country struggling to maintain some freedom of choice.

WE THE PEOPLE, in this country, pay an exorbitant amount of taxes to our 'government'. We the people pay income tax, provincial tax, goods and services tax, property tax, accommodation tax, liquor tax, fuel tax, let us not forget the money grab of carbon tax, and tax on tax, just to name a few. We are told it is to have the rights to access, but not limited to, medical care, education, justice, liberties and so much more, but what they really mean is privilege. They tell us which one of us is worthy, a priority, and deserving. They've manipulated our health care, our education, our media, our justice system, our businesses, and now, right down to our personal freedoms.

NO MORE.
It is time to remember and remind them that;

WE THE PEOPLE have the right, regardless of race, social or political stance, age, education, gender, religion, beliefs, height, stature, food habits, good habits, bad habits, basically the fact that we live and breathe anywhere on this planet, yes, we have the right to choose.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to choose who comes into our own homes, whether we live in a single dwelling house, a mansion, apartment, trailer, condo, igloo or mud hut. Even if you live in Long term health facility, old age home, basement suite, camper, or any other place you're paying to live, WE THE PEOPLE have that right.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to see our loved ones regardless of where they are. Our loved ones have the RIGHT to choose who they let in.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to choose whether we hug or don't.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to choose whether we shake hands or not.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to decide whether or not we leave our dwellings.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to decide what is right for our own individual selves.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to decide what we want for our own personal bodies. Physically, mentally, spiritually or emotionally.

And in wake of a virus that has less impact on our actual well being than the social implications that we have been manipulated into,
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to stand up and know that 99.8% of us are NOT ill with the virus. That the less than 0.2% of us that have gotten it, 99.8% of those will recover.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to not view or be viewed as a plague that needs to be quarantined and eradicated, because 99.8% do not have it.
WE THE PEOPLE have the right to respect each other and to BE respected.

For me that means, I respect the choice of another to wear a mask, stay in their homes, close their businesses, limit their contact with the outside world, should that be what they need to do to feel safe. I respect those that do not feel they need to do any of those to feel safe and all those in between.
Treat people how you would like to be treated.
Sure, if you don't mind a select few telling you as a business owner, employee, man, woman or child whether or not you or what you do is considered relevant, necessary or a priority, fine. I, however have an issue with someone else deciding if I am.

My opinion? Well yes, there are those that will argue that this line of thinking is adolescent in nature, but that's coming from a group that fear change. A group that still would rather believe that their government has their best interests in mind, rather than see that government has only ever had their own interests at play. In every time in history, those that presented a different view in any form that was not in congruence to the will of whatever party deemed themselves righteous enough and in charge, were considered heretics. That is my own opinion, yes the lowest form of knowledge, I know.
But this isn't an opinion. 99.8% of people do not have it!

I refuse to view my fellow humans with the manufactured glasses of fear. I do what feels right, not what others insist is right. I view life with as much heart as I do with logic. It wasn't that long ago that the earth was the centre of our solar system, women were not considered people and slavery was legal. With that, I leave you this:

 ‘Humanity has the ability to adapt, change and evolve. Much of humanity is in that place of change as we speak. There will always be those, however, that will cling, much as ego does to the mind, to the old, misplaced ideals of divide and conquer. Governments, corporations and individuals claiming ‘advocacy’, are fiercely struggling to hang on to these misconceptions that are both, outdated and unattainable. Child like in it’s inception, child like in it’s confusion. The time of the over stimulated blind masculine ‘all for one’ is coming to an end. The time of community in compassionate balance is on the horizon. Ideals will become more unbearable. It will not last. For to finally reach a level of comforting peace we must ride the storm of the hurricane. As in all things, change requires nurturing, compassion and unity of the SELF first, then our neighbours.’ Ruby Koevort

For I Awoke

 I awoke this morning to Me.

First a cloaked Me.
Meticulously crafted.
Stitched together by the expressions of time and perception
and branded with holes, long burned through, of curiosity and wonder.
Each worn patch, smoothed with a thousand smiles clad in silver.

This cloak, devised by experience, once heavy with expectations,
is but a house to shelter the treasures that await within.

This Me, knows how to alchemize joy from tragedy.
This Me, knows the silver lining.
Shadows are friends that need a hand,
and perceptions are but a wave willing to bend and change.

This Me, carries a facade.
Strong, grounded.
Hems of patience grow.
Deeply embroidered are the flowers of morality and responsibility.
Interwoven throughout, are the swords placed down from battles long past.
Though they may be dulled by the softening of time,
 always they are posed at the ready.

For this is a warrior's cloak.
Not tattered and abused.
No.
Nurtured and cared for by the host it wraps.
The Protector of it's faithful wearer, it forges on.

Each button, a trophy.
Sewn by respect, for each was presented within a box of darkness.
Each was polished to a shine, and yet....
a simple clad of fabric hides their significance.

This Me, this Cloak fuses with its host.
The glow of joy peeks out every tethered stitch,
like a beacon to pry inside.
It's the vulnerability that it hides.
Conditioning this Cloak like well worn leather.
Sturdy and pliable.

The boxes that lay inside?
Their gifts placed out in perfectly familiar wrappings.
They continue to work through like moths to a flame.
They dim, but for a moment when opened.
Each presenting a sword of fire, then ice.
Each melted into love then laid down to the field of embroidery.

This Cloak presented as Me is fading.
Hem lines falter to stay together, while the thread stretches thin.
The pattern, procured as needed,
has been forged by distant memories of lessons relearned.
Tangible and logical.

The Me in waiting holds secrets.
Within the joyous flurry awaits a box not so wonderfully wrapped.
Dark and worn the lock hangs open.
Obvious it has been gently pried open before.

This box, unlike the others, contains no perceivable memory or path.
Reeking of vulnerability and fear,
this Cloak of a Me wants to keep it buried.
This Cloak begs to remain the ultimate shield,
but the Me it hides, has no desire for it.

There it waits.
Placed outside and left ajar, this box, unassuming in nature, awaits to be examined.
If there was memory of this gift, it was lost long ago.
Another journey, placed directionless, promises possibility.

This Cloak knows courage,
for it can intuitively guide through lessons of remembering and foreseeing.
This medal, however, requires surrendering to the unknown.
What should this look like?
Where is the first step?
How will this feel?

And there it lays.

This Cloaked Me knows the medals of tragedy.
Knows the rewards of battles fought with determination, love, joy.
Responsibility and compassion, anger and frustration.
Resilience and poise, logic and heart.
Most of these won with a reliance of self that has chosen to battle demons in silence.
To heartbreak and mend in the shadows.
Stand and lick wounds quietly.
Self reliance is a well worn path.
The light shines when the battle is done.

This Me, it would seem, is unsure how to receive.
This Me knows to need and self fulfill,
but to want and receive is of another language.
How does one lean on a tree that is faltering?
How does one receive help from those whose hands are full?
When you don't need saving,
how do you want it from a world that is blinded for it.

What is this partnership of roads that run in all directions?

So, I awoke this morning to a Me.
Half cloaked and vulnerable to rawness.
Naked to the knowing that receivership is tied to giving.

Malnourished, I awoke this morning to Me.
Me, who watered and tended the grounds for the fruit, yet is unsure of how to harvest.
The Me who has led others in to pick from the garden.
Children careless of their footing, drunk with the loving support they ingest.
Children lost in their own beautiful world, have no awareness of the caretaker.
The Me.
The Me who will remain to rebuild what they have discarded.

I awoke to the Me,
standing at the edge of the garden,
an old worn box for a basket and a familiar Cloak over its shoulder.

A Me unable to find the gate.