Hark!

Fellow white folks of privilege:

We want grandiose signs that the world is ending, not the blatant evidence under our noses. We want to wait for the Master Plan and Right Time we just can't know until we know it, instead of entering the ever-present Now to begin. We want to think we have chosen the correct belief about humanity's history and future without ever consulting with those who have forever stood in the fire, birthed there. We want to feel mysteriously called and divinely inspired to take a step toward saving ourselves, rather than trusting enough to hear our own frequency, or another's, for direction.

White people, the work is ours to do, first in ourselves. There is healing that must happen. There is knowing that must be remembered. There are the practices of coming back into your body, of deeply listening, of respecting your own soul enough to look again at the ways it has been fragmented by existing as the oppressor. We have to release our old religion of Supremacy, a creation story we barely recognize was fashioned to keep us all chained out of the garden. We must be angels to one another.

There are Messengers that seemingly appear in the fog at the periphery of our vision. They have always been there, yelling. There are ancient paths where the good way lies we can choose to discover. There is salvation. But first, there are stories to hear and tell about privilege. There are secrets to admit about prejudice. There are practices to be embraced that will make us more honest and empty. There is admitting that we have to start over.

Hear the heralds singing. Heed a new prophecy. Bask in the golden light and bear the discomfort of ages. Give greater glory by bending low and getting to work. Make your life a Message from beyond, at the service of those who have forever been saying, "The time has come!"

 "Angels" by Oak Olivam (used with permission)