Mission's Open Salon Blog

Digging through Rubbish

Fri, 1 Jun 2012 07:06:02 -0400

Our Rubbish Piles

Yesterday was the day the city truck drives by and empties the huge black plastic bin that holds the rubbish that gets tossed out by this household. I did what I usually do; grab all the plastic bags from all the trash cans and carry them out to the end of the driveway and toss them inside.

Someone else takes over from there. Problem solved, right?

Rubbish is removed, not my problem anymore.

The rubbish heap is piling up ever higher from our mantra of the consumer lifestyle. Spend and buy.

Hold a yard sale to get rid of what you don’t want anymore..

I know exactly what I did, however.

I got that rubbish from my backyard and sent it directly into someone else’s.

Someone else can smell it rot, deal with the buzzing flies eating decayed leftovers. The leakage of rainwater mixing with the effluent and washing into the local waterways is not my problem now.

I delegated my responsibility over my problem to someone else.

Problem solved, or not…

Life is like that.

We turn our problems over to someone else.

We let them handle what we cannot.

I had a discussion with someone I thought of as informed and highly intelligent.

The discussion was of the ongoing spewing of radiation from the three melted reactors at Japan’s Fukushima Dai-ici Nuclear Power Plant #1.

She knew nothing about it and her first words spelled it out totally.

‘They would tell us if it was that bad. Where did you hear of this, the internet? You read that stuff too much. If it was that bad, they would be telling us what to do. And besides, those Japanese are smart techies. They can fix anything.

This sounds like them conspiracy theorists. They tell lies, every one of them. Why are you repeating their lies? I got better things to do that listen to trash like this. Nuclear power is good. All them plants do is make a little steam. I have seen them. They are good. We need power. The world runs on electricity now. We need it.’

And so it goes.

If the ‘breaking news’ on all the major TV channels this morning read: ‘Ongoing recritically at the Fukushima Dai-ici Nuclear Plant continues to spread radioactive hot particles in the upper atmosphere and contaminate the Pacific Ocean’, what would you do?

If instead, the ‘breaking news’ was: ‘Tokyo needs to be evacuated immediately. Extremely high rates of radiation are being found all over in and around this area. Women and children need to be the first to leave. 43 million people live in this area.

Would you listen?

Both of these statements are true.

But no one listens, it seems.

As the radioactive fallout continues to come to North America and beyond, carried by winds and deposited by rain on our houses, yards, and food supply, don’t expect any breaking news.

There is no safe level of radiation.

Do your homework.

Become informed.

Our children need us.

Future generations, if there are any, do too.

We only have one planet.

It’s a terrible thing to waste.

'Fukushima Dreams'

Tue, 29 May 2012 13:05:41 -0400

This came to me in a dream

I dreamed of the face of an old woman with deep dark wrinkles.

Her dark deep brown eyes leaned into mine and she begin to speak in riddles

‘You children of mine bring me sorrow

And now you have ruined my body

You ripped my flesh and

Poured rivers of hot stone on open wounds

You have spoiled my blood of the waters

With your filth and vile evils

The breath of life I blow for your salvation’s sake

Reeks the gruesome odors of your decaying substance

You have swung open the pits of hell

You seek a source of salvation

My body seeks healing

For I have been dwelling in this void forever

You have bought your fate so dearly

As you all carry some hell from this monster

You so willingly swallowed the lies told to you

By masters so skilled in leading to wholesale slaughter

Soon you will go the way of the rest

With scattered blackened bones lying under a nuclear sky

Piles of rubbish still burning radiation

Sightless eyes under cesium shine lies’

Sarah's Eyes

Sat, 26 May 2012 02:05:17 -0400

She pressed her forehead against the car window hard as she could, as the houses zipped by endlessly. What did her new home look like?

Beside her, Ms. Williams continued her pep talk as she drove.

‘The family has a daughter your age. Her name is Kathy. For the time being, you two will share a bedroom. The younger son’s name is Ben. I spoke to Mrs. Rogers on the phone before we left my office. She is looking forward to meeting you. Mr. Rogers is a Baptist preacher at this church coming up down here where we are turning on the right. See that white block building there? The house is just down the road a ways.’

Sarah read the sign.

Oak Grove Missionary Baptist Church

Her stomach felt tied in knots.

She did not want to cry anymore today. Her right foot hit the brown paper grocery bag in the floor board holding everything she owned, given to her as she was picked up by Ms. Williams this morning.

‘I am sure you will be given more clothes at the Rogers. You just don’t start that crying again. First impressions are everything. Let them know what you need.

You are a lucky girl to get picked by this family. You and Kathy will get along just fine and she is about your size. Now, they are strict. You will be wearing dresses and skirts. No pants or shorts. No makeup or perfume.

It is a good thing your brown hair is long. Mrs. Rogers will show you how to keep it pinned up. They are good Christian people, I tell you. Just try to get along better than that last place where you caused so much trouble. I think this is the school where you will be going this fall. Yes, that is it right there.’

She pointed and slowed down her car. A long red brick building slid by. The playground was over at the end, surrounded by trees. A couple of boys were on spinning on the merry go round. A tall man pushed a little girl on a swing. A fat lady sat on a bench holding a picnic basket.

Sarah wondered what it was like to be in a real family with both parents on a Saturday morning. She had been given up as a baby. She did not know what her parents had looked like.

There were no pictures.

Sarah shuffled her feet again, pushing the paper bag further away to give her more room.

Ms. Williams continued to talk to her in a lower voice as the car passed fewer and fewer houses.

‘Sarah, I know it must be hard on you, but this is the best the state can do right now. Getting you into a good, long term foster home is my goal. Now you have my business card and know my phone number. Try to make this one work. I have a good record and you are not going to ruin it.

Good families are hard to find, and just because this last one did not work out does not mean this new one will not. And if you continue to be a trouble maker, it will get harder and harder to place you girl. Try to get along with this one.’

Sarah counted in her head. This new family would make six. Six times she had been moved that she could remember. Five different schools since Kindergarten, and this fall she started fourth grade.

Ms. Williams stopped the car.

‘Get out. This is it. Mind your manners, girl. Be on your very best behavior. Make sure you say please and thank you. Your church dress is in the bag. It is washed and clean. I am sure you will be going tomorrow. The service will be similar to the last one you attended. And do not start that whimpering. I don’t like crybabies. No one does.’

The front door on the brown painted wooden house swung open. A short, wide woman stood behind a big man holding the screen door open.

‘You did not tell us she was an Indian. And she is so dark skinned. Skinny, ain’t she. Don’t she know how to smile?’

Sarah stood on the gravel driveway, trying to smile. Her buck teeth showed.

Ms. Williams walked over and got out the sack of clothes. She pushed Sarah’s back towards the door.

‘Hurry up child. I got other things to do today. Let’s get this over with.’

Sarah stumbled and walked up the three concrete steps. She met the eyes of the man looking hard at her.

She knew then there would be more trouble. He was staring at her chest, noting her budding breasts.

‘She will do just fine. Come on in honey child. Our children are out back in the yard. My wife will show you where to put your things. Are you hungry? Lunch will be ready soon. There is some fresh iced tea on the kitchen counter.’

Sarah shook her head no. Her stomach rolled inside. Gospel music played on the radio, filling the house with the sounds of women singing ‘I’ll fly away’.

Fitting, thought Sarah.

'Dreamtimes Abundance'

Mon, 14 May 2012 08:05:18 -0400

Dreams

Mine, yours,

Ours

Dreams of power

Dreams of peace

Dreams of desire

Dream seekers

Call

For the failed dreams

Inside us

All

The scars living

Unhealed

Dreams healing

Shine bright

No more tear soaked

pillows this night

May was warm wind

Blow to you today

Dreams so relaxing

Hearth warming

Mead flows to

your lips

As you plant the seeds

Of the dream today

Spend time wisely

Fertilize well

Water the soil

With loving tears

Prepare full menu

Leave space

Extra helpings

Of soul food

Spread wide

Some grace

Open all doors

Fresh air wind's

Blow

Sunshine

The new day’s

Ahead

Dreams of

Peace

For

All

Dreamtimes

Abundance

'I used to be You'

Sun, 13 May 2012 07:05:10 -0400

My face is every where

Yet invisible I am

Walking the streets

Sitting on a park bench

There

My face is every where

Food banks

Employment lines

Day labor morning grind

Recognize me

For I am every where

You see

You passed me

Going somewhere fast

You passed me as you

Saw me fall

Your pitying look never

met my eyes

Hell, you are me

Just wearing a disguise

I used to be

Just like you