Manifesto

I

The hardest part of writing a manifesto is the first sentence. Next is the difficulty of pinpointing exactly what you want to say. With the former finished and the latter never known, let's move ahead and begin with this: we heal together, the earth and the people, for we were never separate.

In this nation, pain runs through the DNA of every person born on domestic soil. The children do not know this. Each morning, Steven came to me and asked if he could water the garden outside our classroom door. Administration called him autistic. I found him interested. Why does a carrot have a green top and an orange bottom? Why are there ants in the garden? He brought me the remains of a dragonfly and asked why we could see through the wings. He brought me seeds. He brought climbing pink roses that we kept in a peanut butter jar filled with water.

Native Americans found meaning in all beings. They honored the life within every form. A dragonfly, born in water, takes to the air to teach us about change and adaptation. They buzz above us to illuminate illusion. If only I could have given Steven these words. Instead, I said something simple like the wings are that way for the same reason he loved to watch water become a rainbow on its way out the can.

This manifesto is for Steven. It is for the times when the other students wiped their hands on each other and said that they had "Steven germs". It is for the times that kids refused to sit in his desk. It is for the time I didn't see his hand raised and he had to sit in his own pee. It is for the hug he gave me every morning.

I want you to know this, Steven, that much of what we see is an illusion, and that most of those that call themselves adults are confused and we know not what we do. But do not fret, for deep within each of us is a voice that asks, "Why can't I stop thinking like this?" This is the witness. This awareness is the beginning of change.

This manifesto is for you. The reader. A candle in a dark room. An appeal to the divine that exists beneath what you believe separates you from me and each other.

So before we go any further, let's stop to say for ourselves:

May you be at peace.
May your heart remain open.
May you awaken to the light of your true nature.
May you be healed of all things.
May you be a source of healing for all beings.

And let us now take one minute and think of a being that has meant something to us, that has offered love, be this a pet or a tree or an Uncle with a bad hip.

Offer this:

May you be at peace.
May your heart remain open.
May you awaken to the light of your true nature.
May you be healed of all things.
May you be a source of healing for all beings.

In the life of every man, woman, and child there exists one or more people believed to be the cause of pain. We struggle with these people, for the ego separates us from them. This manifesto will get subterranean.

For now, say these words while considering one of those persons:

May you be at peace.
May your heart remain open.
May you awaken to the light of your true nature.
May you be healed of all things.
May you be a source of healing for all beings.

II

I must ask, "Am I writing to confirm what I think I know? Or am I writing to learn something new?" I would ask you to consider why you read. When you buckle against what has been written, pause, and consider why this is. When my sense of who I am is threatened, I attack. My Western mind craves certainty.