|foto credits: Izabela Urbaniak|
Un poem splendid, scris de Nicole Cannon, mamă a două fetițe, actriță și scriitoare.
What is the matter, you ask?
The matter is they want to drug my child.
My beautifully artistic, full of wonder child.
The want her to fit into the societal box of linear thinking.
But I’m going to march right in there and tell them how I feel.
I’m going to tell them we keep throwing our children into the meat grinder of industry.
I’m going to tell them that our industry was forged on fear. Fear of our mortality.
I’m going to tell them that industry was sold to us as protection from Nature’s harsh elements.
I’m going to tell them the more removed we are from Nature the less connected we are to understanding the endlessness of our own souls.
I’m going to tell them that we are teaching our children that their only value is in productivity.
This assembly line of learning.
It says the only thing that matters is getting good grades.
It says the only thing that matters is getting into a good college.
It says the only thing that matters is getting a good job so you can buy a fancy car and a big house and beautiful clothes all to protect us from Nature’s harsh elements.
You’re telling my right brained, holistic thinking, made of stardust girl to believe in the endless sea of billboards setting on Sunset Boulevard.
You’re telling her to believe she’ll never be young enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, desirable enough unless she is able to afford the latest alluring fragrance, the current fashion trend, the perfect prevalent sheath that will protect her from the world’s harshest element—
See this Louis Vuitton handbag, it screams, “I am surviving! I am surviving more than you!”
But only if you produce.
So go ahead and make more.
Go ahead and consume more.
Go ahead and fill this emptiness where your soul connectedness once was with more stuff.
Go ahead and rape the Earth of Her resources.
Go ahead and destroy Her for all of your wantonness.
Go ahead and kill Her so you never have to remember that the greatest riches come from within.
You tell my darling, day dreaming, butterfly chasing, flower picking girl that the way her brain works is wrong.
You tell her she needs a pill to access her intelligence.
You tell her that she needs to get on board the conveyer belt of thinking in order to succeed in life.
You tell her to forget about all of the wonder and magic and awe she came into this world with.
But, what if you’re wrong.
What if the way her brain works is what the world needs.
What if her brain function is natures evolution of humanity.
What if she is able to see the bigger picture.
What if she is capable of finding radical solutions to difficult problems.
And then again, what if I’m just over identifying with her struggle and imposing my beliefs on her.
What if she needs medicine to help her get her flowers to the market.
What if she has great ideas but can’t get them on paper because she can’t access them.
What if not fitting in with her peers is slowly chipping away at her self esteem.
What if I’m wrong and I’m hurting my child by not giving her the tools she needs in order to succeed in life.
So you ask, what is the matter?
We are all made of stardust.