I sit in France and watch. I watch America. I watch Palestine. I watch Yemen. I observe what’s going on in Sudan, in the Congo, and in the myriad of other spaces where the rights of the land and her people are being trampled.
Then I cry. I cry long. I cry hard. And I think about all the times my rights have been trampled. I think of how my children's rights have been trampled. I think of how my Ancestor's rights have been trampled.
Then I stop crying and recommit to healing because that is all I am aligned to do in the moment. I have no money to give. There are no politicians to call. Getting arrested and beaten up while protesting in France is not an option for me.
All I can do is heal. Thankfully there is power in healing.
