march for meaning

You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings.

Political activist has never been an identity that has resonated with me. Political activists are super charged, fiery personalities that believe fiercely in the rights of their own and the unwavering dedication to change how they are perceived in government. There is true honor in those activities and exclamations that demand recognition and acknowledgment in a peaceful manner. That lightning bolt, that electric charge of caring deeply for what effects the life of you and the people around you, struck me this last year. 2016, they say, was a year of endings; I ended my addiction to complacency. With growing vigor I educated myself in political discourse and starting truly paying attention. I voted. For the first time in my life, at age 31, I chose to vote. A stand against the new tides of opposition to a progressive nation, a choice to move forward not backward, a voice for good overcoming evil and compassion overcoming hate.

I do identify with strength, spirituality and putting out what you want back in this world. I believe in the cohesive vitality of mass groups of people showing up and speaking out. It would be against my intrinsic nature to not adjust my own actions to give meaning to the ideals and movements that impact my personal life. Marching today, on the 21st of January 2017, is the first of many experiences to come in which I’ll take pride in putting out into the universe what I want for this country. I will not be afraid anymore that my voice does not count, it is part of a collective voice, only stronger with the addition of each individual. Being apart of such a vast group of empowered and passionate peoples was breathtaking and a privilege. This march had much more behind it than simply rights, it was a march for belonging. I felt more so than ever that I belong right where I am. What a blessing.

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San Diego Women’s March
January 21, 2017

Compassion is a verb.

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