[warning: death, injustice]
Sep. 21st, 2011 08:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aviaI have to admit it... as an autistic person, I usually don't feel emotional about the deaths of people the same way most people do, even if they are the result of cruelty. I can often get more heart-feeling upset about deaths of fictional characters, or celebrities just because they are people I like, than about a crisis of rights, even though I have a worship of death, and I believe that the real reason any death would be wrong, is if it happens because of injustice situation.
It's just the way I am. I can't change it, I'm not sure I want to, because, it's not bad or good, it's just me. It doesn't mean I don't care, because, in my mind I think these events are sad and I do what I can to help people who are suffering. I do care. I just don't feel it in my heart. I have been told, that that is not caring. But, it is the way I work.
But, something in my heart does feel a heavy weight for Troy Davis, who was lynched tonight by the state of Georgia. That's all you can call it, when the evidence for him didn't actually exist and the witnesses were bullied into saying he did it. It's a murder because he is black. That's all.
(And, here's a random truth if you don't believe that: Courts in GA sought the death penalty for 70% of black defendants with white victims but for only 15% of white defendants with black victim. From aclu.org.)
I think, I feel it because I was watching it actually happen on Tumblr... not on a video, but, watching it through the comments of people who were updating constantly about how the case was going. So, I knew the moment it happened, or, close to it. And, I also read this lovely, lovely message from him to his supporters today. And it made me really just feel, for a moment, like I could feel his soul setting free from his body, and I did what I do as a psychopomp, and I connected with that energy and tried to send energy to help to guide his soul safely to a place of beauty and joy.
And then, I was listening to this EP (which is beautiful, and, has a lovely name), and it started the song "Lark", and, though I would not have thought of it before, the words stuck in my head as a bird-prayer for those who are transitioning from one world to the next.
on the wings of the storm
you will be carried forth
to the nest you will return
body, breath and life secure
So, this is a death song in my head now. And, my prayer as a bird soul, for Troy Davis and for all who have died, are dying, will die, as victims of what America still calls "justice", even though that is a thin veil over a corruption so obvious that anyone can see through it.
It's just the way I am. I can't change it, I'm not sure I want to, because, it's not bad or good, it's just me. It doesn't mean I don't care, because, in my mind I think these events are sad and I do what I can to help people who are suffering. I do care. I just don't feel it in my heart. I have been told, that that is not caring. But, it is the way I work.
But, something in my heart does feel a heavy weight for Troy Davis, who was lynched tonight by the state of Georgia. That's all you can call it, when the evidence for him didn't actually exist and the witnesses were bullied into saying he did it. It's a murder because he is black. That's all.
(And, here's a random truth if you don't believe that: Courts in GA sought the death penalty for 70% of black defendants with white victims but for only 15% of white defendants with black victim. From aclu.org.)
I think, I feel it because I was watching it actually happen on Tumblr... not on a video, but, watching it through the comments of people who were updating constantly about how the case was going. So, I knew the moment it happened, or, close to it. And, I also read this lovely, lovely message from him to his supporters today. And it made me really just feel, for a moment, like I could feel his soul setting free from his body, and I did what I do as a psychopomp, and I connected with that energy and tried to send energy to help to guide his soul safely to a place of beauty and joy.
And then, I was listening to this EP (which is beautiful, and, has a lovely name), and it started the song "Lark", and, though I would not have thought of it before, the words stuck in my head as a bird-prayer for those who are transitioning from one world to the next.
on the wings of the storm
you will be carried forth
to the nest you will return
body, breath and life secure
So, this is a death song in my head now. And, my prayer as a bird soul, for Troy Davis and for all who have died, are dying, will die, as victims of what America still calls "justice", even though that is a thin veil over a corruption so obvious that anyone can see through it.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-22 06:42 pm (UTC)He was... I don't know. I love all the pets I had [or still do have] in my life. But there have been some I've, I don't know, bonded with more than others. I just really clicked with Peeky a lot. I loved him so much it hurt. And when he went, I don't know. I cried a lot and then I was so so numb and it just felt like part of me was gone, too.
It was rather the same with Crooked. Crooky was a good rat.
When he went... I had dreams, he well I don't know if haunted is the word I would use here, but I don't have another word, but he haunted me in dreams, for a while...
Sometimes I still think my dad will come back. I know, logically he will not. We have some of his ashes, in our living room [and doesn't that seem ironic.]. He is not coming back.
But sometimes [maybe even a lot of times] my feelings don't care what my mind says, they think they know different.
I don't think I'm good at reading people, at least expression-wise. I'll have to take your word about her because I wouldn't know.
I think that's something I like with my headfriends, I can feel their emotions at times, so I don't need expressions... though I also seem to understand those, in-head, more, too.
I know you said it's okay to ramble, but I still often feel... sometimes bad, sometimes weird, about it. Society conditioning at work, I guess.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-22 06:46 pm (UTC)I wonder if that is almost, a part of magic. Your dad will not return physically, but, maybe what you feel is the bond that still exists between you. Or, the possibility that you see each other again in a future life. That's why I don't ignore feelings like that, even if I try also to weight it against what I also expect to happen in the physical reality.
Because, it's not the only reality.
No place for society conditioning here ^v^ you simply can be who you are.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-22 07:13 pm (UTC)I think it's probably at least partly my reluctance to let go. He was something I got used to [he wasn't really in our lives for a chunk of it; then he moved in with us]; even with negative feelings. And he was a security of sorts, because money. Money is a security and now that he's gone there is less of it and I don't know.
And maybe my mom was right and I should have gone to the funeral. She did say this would happen. But I couldn't go. I couldn't see him like that. And, well, I can't stand dead things. Because that is what happens, you die and leave behind your body, and then that body is a thing. A dead thing. I don't know how much of it is phobia [by which I mean, of the dead things themselves. Not of death. That's another story, and complicated.] and how much is disgust, but I know it's both. And some of it is, at least, familiarization, because while all dead things effect me bad, it's not as bad when it's a body of someone I didn't know.
But it does feel like he'll come back. Or that it was a dream, and I'll wake up [gods, it probably doesn't help that the last time I heard his voice, I was half-asleep. I was sleeping and he woke me up a little because he was going to work, and then he left and died.]. Or that he never came to live here in the first place, but he's still alive, somewhere. And then logic hits hard and the dreamy feelings goes away, and it hurts. It hurts a lot. and now I've made myself cry. Again. I have to stop doing that.
And then, of course, there's nightmares. I haven't had one in a while [involving him, at least]. But I know I'm probably not done with those. My brain seems often to be fixated on zombies, at least in my dreams. I can cope with that for the most part.
But not when my nightmares turn him into one.
Not when they take him away from me again, him alive and then bitten and then a zombie.
I don't know why my brain does that.