Posted by The hurt in the world is palpable. In my country. In my home. We don’t know where we are going. We don’t know what is coming tomorrow.
“Life cuts deep… this world is gonna leave some battle scars” ~ TobyMac
We feel the wounds. I am speechless, wordless, practically thoughtless with it all. The pain of oppression runs deep, so deep. I don’t know how to write about it or talk about it. All I can do is keep listening and try to understand more and more. And keep feeling the hurt with others. Look inward. Try to keep looking outside of my self and my little concerns. And then finally look upward.
Thank you Mrs ESTJ for helping me to update this blog.
3-Legged Table: Reframing Our Beautiful Chaos 
Nice blog
All I can do is keep listening and try to understand more and more.
Part of the trick, I think, is not to try to understand it, or fit it into your world. Just accept it. Exactly as told to you. It doesn’t fit in your world. Nor do we want it to. Our aim is to take it out of our world, and thereby allow everyone to live in peace, respect and love.
I think it is.
I know how to feel. It is hard to find the right words. I think if people keep sharing their stories we can truly understand.
Right. Maybe that is the answer, to just keep feeling, even when we don’t know what to say.
I hate to say this, but white folk can never understand what people of colour go through. Living in fear every time you leave your house, and sometimes while in your house. Being Metis (part white, part First Nations) I am seen by some as white, and by others as my true colour, a creamy red. Being around nice whites is to feel safe, but being around bigots and racists is to be treated like the scum of the earth. Whites think it is okay to push me around, scream at me, look down on me, steal from me, disrespect me, and whatever else they do.
Worst thing, I never know who is going to be which. And then there are the people that tell me to go home where I came from. They see colour, but they don’t even look to see what colour. That part of me which is First Nations IS home, but they seem to think North America is home to whites, not to any colours. Where does that feeling come from?
I’ll shut up here. You’ve probably heard more than you want to.