bleeding eagle

(for M.J.F.)

It doesn't all make sense . . . this life . . . at times deeply overwhelming

tears and pain caress like lovers . . .

relief seems like a passing dream or nightmare

relief seems like shadows

and shadows seem dark

but to you, I want you to remember

shadows remind us that light is near

never be afraid of shadows

the cut, the blood, the pain

trickle like the moon

and like the moon

they are false

their reflection is only reflection

their cold, their distance are their true nature

seek the lesson of the moth: light

seek the lesson of the eagle: soar

rise up dear soul

rise up, dear M.J.F

the light is near, you face the moon

turn towards that which brings you life

turn away from that which bleeds your life . . .

you are an eagle . . . face your destiny

bleed no more and rise

I received this email a few days ago:



Mykee,

Once again I find myself doing the things I have tried so hard to stop doing and I dont know what to do. Your presentation at my school helped me so much im hoping you can lend me some advice.... I dont know what to do with myself any more. I cry myself to sleep at night and often have flash backs of the experiences I have had of abusive relationships. People talk about me at school and I can't find the strength to stop self mutilating...

please help me...

much love always,



If I could tell you the amount of people who write to me or personally show me their pain, I would be writing for weeks on end. I feel so sad and touched when I read emails such as these. Here's what I have to offer. Some options.



1. Find someone who you trust and talk. The ugly monster gets weaker if you talk. Get to a counselor. If not a counselor, then a teacher or principal or parent or neighbor, but find someone who you can trust.



2. Write. Draw. Whatever. Get it out. Write about it in poetry. In journals. Draw it out. Sing it out. Curse it out, then curse it out again. This last suggestion is best done alone (hint! hint!).



3. Find others who have been in the same situation or a similar one.



4. Read. Here's a book about cutting: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0439324599/qid=1101017028/sr=8-1/ref=pd_csp_1/104-5569958-0158320?v=glance&s=books&n=507846



5. Here are two teen websites to check out: http://www.teenadviceonline.org/ and

http://www.teenlineonline.org/. Check them out. They have been helpful to others.



6. Of course you could write me, but I am slow on the rebound because of my schedule, but mark it urgent and I will respond quicker.



I'm often asked, "what helped me?" Friends, youth pastor, prayer, teachers, poetry, cemeteries (i'll explain), accepting all that I couldn't change and changing all that I could, and creating situations that made me laugh.



Cemeteries. I like to walk around cemeteries during the day. When I do I check out what is written on the tombstones. I like to see the ages of the people as well as any pithy adages. I am not saddest by the young children who have died. I am most moved by those who lived to be 90-100 of age, because I cannot help but to think about how many days they actually lived, not existed, during their lives. Cemeteries give me a renewed passion for living no matter how down I am. It puts things in perspective for me. I suppose it much akin to the Langston Hughes poem, Still Here, "But I don't care. I'm still here."



I love you all, my friends in pain. I meditate and pray on your behalf. My hug goes to you.

My baby Saskia . . . 5 months old.

Picture Dis Homey

"War! What's it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again."

Edwin Starr, "War"

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Come you masters of war

You that build all the guns

You that build the death planes

You that build the big bombs

You that hide behind walls

You that hide behind desks

I just want you to know

I can see through your masks

How much do I know

To talk out of turn

You might say that I'm young

You might say I'm unlearned

But there's one thing I know

Though I'm younger than you

Even Jesus would never

Forgive what you do

Bob Dylan, "Masters of War"

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There's a good chance that C.A.R.E. worker, Margaret Hassan, was killed by her captors. I'm sure the video will be released soon.

We are not safer now than before . . . We enter this dangerous void of pain. I stand at this precipice wondering when will we as thinking, processing beings learn to look beyond hate to solve our conflicts.

How odd that in a society where we encourage our children to resolve their conflicts through peaceful methods, we practice something entirely different as adults.

Margaret Hassan is a victim who gave her life working for the good of all humanity. She believed in the good of human existence, and yet she fell victim to human depravity. No words comfort at this time. No lasting peace shall ever ride upon this vehicle called violence.

I want no part . . .

Apparently, an unarmed Iraqi rebel was slain by a US marine. Some people are screaming that the US marine should be brought up on criminal charges for breaking the rules of combat. Give me a break! He need not be brought up on charges. He did his job. Is there really nobility in killing? Is it not all savagery? If you support the war, this is part of war. There is no honorable way of shooting somebody in the head. The blood decorates the wall just the same. I support this soldier, because it reinforces what I feel about war. War is meant to kill people. You define an enemy and you do your best to destroy that enemy. Why all this pretense about order? If I cut off your limbs 'til you die or I shoot you in the head, it's one and the same.

There are innocent victims in this war. Margaret Hassan was one of them, the Iraqi rebel was just a victim, not innocent. Both were prey. In war, we are all prey. Let us bow our heads, keeping our heads, and pray to end a world of prey.

The head of Margaret Hassan shares the same peace as the blood splattered brain of the Iraqi soldier. Both rest now, as the dead bury the dead.

I close with this:

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"Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony, but we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak."

Martin Luther King, Jr., Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence

"There's no place in this world where I'll belong when I'm gone

And I won't know the right from the wrong when I'm gone

And you won't find me singin' on this song when I'm gone

So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here . . .

Can't add my name into the fight while I'm gone

So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here

And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone

And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone

Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone

So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here"



Phil Ochs, "When I'm Gone"



I'm deeply saddened today . . . I was sitting here at my computer listening to the late Phil Ochs song, "When I'm Gone." I popped open my Explorer browser and I was greeted by the headline,

"Chinese American author Iris Chang found shot to death." She was responsible for a powerful non-fiction book called, The Rape of Nanking. This was a seminal book that uncovered the mistreatment of the Chinese during WWII at the hands of Japanese soldiers. Chang's compassion to uncover the atrocities done to her Chinese people was stirring. Sadly, it looks like she may have fallen victim to her giant heart. Preliminary reports indicate that Chang died from self-inflicted gun wounds. Ironically, the words of Phil Ochs song ring eerily prophetic. I have about a 1,000 CDs and I happened to be listening to that song at that time.



Strangely enough, Phil Ochs died by his own hands . . .



Be encouraged my friends. Suicide does not provide the answer we need. We need your voice in this fight. We need you to struggle with us.



"And I won't be running from the rain when I'm gone

And I can't even suffer from the pain when I'm gone

Can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when I'm gone

So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here . . ."