Yellow Rose of Texas

We need to talk. This isn't working out. It's not you, it's me...or maybe it is me. Either way, this needs to end, and now. This relationship has become toxic and caused nothing but heartache and grief. Racism isn't working out and it never has.  White privilege is real, and so is white fragility. Systemic racism has been inherent in our country since long before #bluelivesmatter or #alllivesmatter.  Black lives matter is a movement and philosophy that is important because whether you choose to see it and believe it or not. Black people, African Americans, and people of color have been left in the literal dust in this country since it was "discovered" in 1492. Dying in streets since black people were kidnapped and brought to this country to be sold into an inhumane trade and forced to labor or to be another man's sexual pawn against their own will and judgment, and shot in the back and left mommas crying for far too long. I struggle with this a lot because...

“As it is, we are merely bolting our lives—gulping down undigested experiences as fast as we can stuff them in—because awareness of our own existence is so superficial and so narrow that nothing seems to us more boring than simple being.  If I ask you what you did, saw, heard, smelled, touched and tasted yesterday, I am likely to get nothing more than the thin, sketchy outline of the few things that you noticed, and of those only what you thought worth remembering. Is it surprising that an existence so experienced seems so empty and bare that its hunger for an infinite future is insatiable? But suppose you could answer, “It would take me forever to tell you, and I am much too interested in what’s happening now.” How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such a fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself as anything less than a god? And, when you ...