Rise Above Oppression

"If only the war on poverty was a real war we would actually be spending money on it."

Everyday I wake up and I have to rise above the oppression. Just the day in and day out mechanics of my life are often overwhelming and I have to remind myself that no human should have to live this way.  The 1% and even the top 50% of the 99% don’t live like this.  They can decide to go shopping and buy new clothes or decide not to cook and clean and go out to eat.  They have choices that I haven’t had in years.

Every day I have to remind myself not to be depressed or discouraged.  I have to remind myself that just by the very fact that I haven’t crumbled under the weight of impossible odds and circumstances is nothing short of a miracle and a true testament to the inner strength within me that refuses to be extinguished. 

If I can’t manage it alone now I don’t have to, all I need to do is walk around and talk to just about anybody at the occupation to know that what I experience isn’t some kind of delusion but a cleverly disguised form of societal abuse. 
 

Before this movement truly brought light to the causes of my distress, I blamed myself and looked within to find a way out.  I studied the power of the present moment, the power of your own mind and thoughts,  I sought counseling, took anti-depressants to relieve the pressure, I exercised, fasted, prayed, meditated, read book after book designed to improve your life, I practiced gratitude, you name it, I tried it. 

It doesn’t surprise me now why not one of these methods brought anything but temporary relief.  If anything the best thing I ever did was try to come to terms with the suffering and accept it.  I tried to stop fighting against it because beating your head against a brick wall only hurts your head.  The wall doesn’t even care or know you are there so you only hurt yourself.  Even in as much as I tried to accept  the emptiness of living a life of lack and focusing on the little things that are free in life such as my child’s smile, I could never really do it.  You have to literally kill off a part of yourself to just silently watch the injustice.  You have to become numb and uncaring to no longer question or fight back and that is a lousy way to live.  The only people I know who can live like that are on some kind of drug or drama.

Most people however have actually managed it somehow.  I don’t know why I can’t be among them but I can’t.  My rage at the insanity of it all seems to consume me and stokes a fire that won’t be put out. 

When I was a teenager, my brother attacked me without any provocation on my part.  I was simply using the phone at the wrong time.  When I defended myself against him by throwing my cola in his face, in the living room he had chased me into with the brand new white carpet, my father having only seen my action proceeded to beat me and my brother got off scot free. 

This seems to be the way of the world these days.  I see it so clearly how innocent people are put down through no fault of their own.  Sometimes I just wish I could just take my children and runaway to a new land where everybody was cared for but I don’t know where that would be and I don’t have the money to get there even if I did.

I love this movement and I hope it grows to the critical mass it needs to succeed.  At long last, some of us have got it right.  We can’t just blind ourselves to not only our own suffering but the suffering of others.  We want to make it right.  We want heal the causes.  We want to stop the madness of cutting off a person’s limb and offering a band-aid.

Everyone is talking about life these days, how precious it is and so forth, how we should love each other and make the world a better place.  When I imagine it, I can only let my tears fall as there is no stopping them, I see it finally at the occupation.  It’s only a handful of us compared with the population but it’s there.  We care about the world.  When will you?