(This might be a tough read, but it ends on a positive note.)
I just finished watching the 60 Minutes segment on CECOT (the prison in El Salvador that many Venezuelans were mistakenly sent to from the US) that was pulled from airing at the last minute. It was predictably horrifying. Nothing I saw surprised me, because I already knew that absolute horrors are being inflicted on the people sent there.
In 1997 I toured Dachau, a former Nazi death camp in southern Germany. The horrors inflicted on thousands of people sent there still echo, and it was a place I will never forget.
The CECOT video showed cages crammed floor to ceiling with racks of beds. They looked exactly like what I saw at Dachau, just updated with newer technology.
A few weeks ago I re-read a novel called The Source, by James Michener, written in the early 1960s. It’s about a fictional archeological site in Israel, with stories of people in various time periods through the history of the site, going back to very early humanity.
When I first read the book as a teen I found it interesting and informative. I learned what I thought was accurate information about Jewish culture and the various peoples of the region who influenced that culture.
I am so much more discerning now. For one thing, I found the book incredibly sexist, which led me to reflect on just how much sexism and implied misogyny I’ve been bombarded by all my life. This is not news to me in any way, but I found it fascinating to encounter yet another example and realize how pervasive it has been throughout my entire lifetime. At some point the scales fell from my eyes and now I see more clearly.
Another thing I noticed in this book was its not-so-subtle pro-Israel stance. In light of the horrors (current and past) being inflicted in Gaza to Palestinians, I found this pretty obscene. I thought about abandoning the book, but I also felt it was important to finish it.
By the time I came to the end of the book, I realized what I needed to see.
Every story in the book, every historical time, every culture, portrayed people doing horrific violent acts to other people for the sake of religion, beliefs, cultural rules, disagreements, fear. One group was ”wrong” and another was ”right”, which somehow warranted torturing, maiming, and killing in horrific ways.
I realized that ALL of humanity has been doing this, throughout its history. No doubt I, in past lifetimes, have done horrifying things to other people, and had horrifying things done to me at some point.
Several years ago I had a reading done by Malidoma Some, a west African shaman. One of the things he told me was that I am a ”mother” of humanity, to thousands of people who are being discredited and disempowered, and that my power is in service to the human community.
When I hear or read about horrifying things happening around the world—CECOT, Gaza, Sudan, the Rohingya people, ICE raids, and so many more—I feel deeply sad. I weep. Sometimes the sadness feels overwhelming, but I’m sure it’s a fraction of what the people experiencing those horrors must feel.
And then I feel angry. Sacred rage. These are MY PEOPLE who are being hurt, MY CHILDREN. HOW DARE YOU HURT MY CHILDREN.
I am sure I am not the only one who feels this way.
We are going through a tumultuous time. Old structures of society, economics, and politics are being dismantled. This is happening rapidly, as if each time we blink we change to a slightly different reality.
The old structures collapse and burn so that new ones can be created in their ashes. We have been existing within these structures for thousands of years. It may feel impossible to imagine anything different from what we’ve known, but there are visionaries among us who will bring pieces of the future to the collective so that they can be expanded (New York City mayor Zohran Mamdani is an excellent example).
One day, in the not-too distant future, we shall live largely collectively. Everyone contributes as they are able, and everyone shares the resources. No one goes hungry, and everyone is valued. I have envisioned this future for several years, and each year this vision becomes more clear.
This is a magical time of year. Not because we celebrate the birth of a famous Palestinian who wasn’t even born in December, but because humanity collectively has shared fellowship and love at this time of year. Many cultures created rituals and celebrations at around the time of the equinox, to honor the shift between light and dark.
Let’s use that magic to help co-create our collective future, and allow the visionaries to emerge who will show us points of light along the way. And in the meantime we can acknowledge the humanity in our neighbors and community members, which is its own kind of magic.
May the blessings fall on you like rain.
Love always, Talyaa






