The poetry of refugee resistance on Manus Island Show more
This is an extraordinary piece of writing, a haunting account of the 22 day protest on Manus by Behrouz Boochani, writer and community leader.
It could be about brutality and loss of home, but really it's about our common humanity. Courage, dignity, peace.
A gentle reminder Show more
Everything about you that makes you feel alone, makes you difficult and misunderstood, that frustrates you, is something that *someone* will find charming, effortless, comprehensible, and glorious.
Don't round off your edges to fit in a place that is uncomfortable. Find the place where you fit, even if you have to try a hundred times, because you, really you, are a phenomenon that has never been seen before, will never be seen again, and the world deserves to experience.
I hope people can appreciate what is happening here. No, this platform is far from perfect and we're going to have some knock down drag out ugly discussions about what we need to do to make this place better.
But we can do it. This is just the start of something very special. Some people are going to get it and some aren't.
But we're making progress. We're pushing forward. And we're doing it together.
Ha, it ain't pretty, but like Fredrick Douglass said, without struggle there is no progress.
For those of you who haven't been following Icelandic politics, something unusual has happened.
For the first time our government is a coalition of a right-wing party, a centre party, and a proper environmentalist left-wing party who intend to operate along the lines of Nordic-style consensus politics.
The last time something even remotely like this happened was in 1959 when a right-wing/left-wing coalition appointed Iceland's first healthcare minister and built the healthcare system.
The other thing about this bit of research is that we're inside it. That is, we're investigating something that is really important to us: small communities in the age of big things. And we're involved in #smallstories just like anyone here: reading, sharing, writing, thinking, noticing.
This used to be called "participant observation", but I sense this is more like collaborative ethnography.
With mastodon we're focusing on the experience of people who participate in #smallstories, whether by writing or reading or sharing or thinking.
If you have a moment to go back and forth a bit with me (and you haven't already replied to @Tdorey), let me know. Happy for DMs.
Learning in the open.
I recently bumped into a former student, and he was not using his voice but wrote things out on his phone instead. He said he had been doing so since a family tragedy a few months before.
Later I saw him again and he was speaking; he told me that not speaking was his way of retreating for awhile, that it meant less energy to be a passive observer.
I thought this was a very creative way to handle serious stress & it seems to have worked for him well.
Someone who lived in this old house before us planted a gardenia under the bedroom window. It must have been tiny, for years. Now it's full size and at night it fills the room with fragrance, just as someone intended.
This is the thing all gardeners know: our biggest dreams are realised for others. All the rest is pots and quick fixes and show.
the best thing about mastodon is that i don't have my follower count constantly in my face like it's a score counter
i hope you are all doing well today!!
remember to take breaks from reading awful stories from the news and take care of yourself
<<Rule of thumb: assume every stranger you encounter has an invisible disability, a private inconsolable grief, or are in the midst of an undetectable crisis.
Offer each other moments of respite and grace.
Don’t allow projective envy to fool you into thinking you are the only or the most vulnerable person you will encounter in your day.
I listen to people’s sorrows and secrets every day - and every one is broken - especially the people you imagine are not.>>
Something about working in a gas station make folks tell you about the deaths in their families. Maybe it's the sterile air and the glowing signs overlooking empty parking spaces, or the way the clerk is willing to sigh in unison with you, but it works. So many people tell me when they bury their mothers. I keep their stories in my mind all night. Anonymous pleas into the retail void deserve to be heard. #smallstories
I'm waiting in the car park of the supermarket for my daughter's shift to end. She's cashing up.
Yesterday she told me that a woman who lives with dementia comes to the store often. She is safe and well cared for as she shops for cake mix ingredients.
Everyone knows that if she forgets where to go home to, they call her son. His number is written up where staff can find it.
This is the world we should aspire to. More of this.