How can we hold our convictions with out growing rigid?

Here’s a poem I wrote … it’s called ‘LOUD’ … about holding our convictions and maybe not growing rigid about them…..

LOUD

Standing (up) for something.   

I am this.  Not that.

I am right.  You are wrong.

The line is hard.  

Do your thing.  

Walk your walk.  

But if you look further along the line it has soft edges.  Sometimes no edges at all.  Often imaginary edges.

Learn the names of the trees around you, not the politicians.

Grow a lettuce not your anger.

Watch the birds, not the news.  

Tend to your village quietly without shouting.  

Step back.  Soften your convictions.  Don’t grip so hard.  

Learn the name of another tree and its story.  

The conviction might be right. 

The rigid edges, the way you hold it, that might not be right.

Can you hold your conviction like a rose?

Can you walk your walk and feel yourself flourishing? 

Can you bloom with energy and kindness as you take action?

Can you stop trying to convince people? 

Can you speak gently and still be heard? 

Can you create beauty so your path does not become ugly?

Once upon a time we had wars.

Once upon a time we had colonialism.

Once upon a time we had freedom fighters.

Once upon a time we had feminists.

Once upon a time we had climate change.

Once upon a time we had gay pride.

Once upon a time.

Once upon a time is always now.  

Once upon a time we knew the trees.

Once upon a time we knew fireflies came in rainy season.

Once upon a time we knew dry season meant flower blossom and honey.

I grew weary holding my hard edge.

I grew rigid when I thought people weren’t listening.

I was right.  Why didn’t other people agree? Always? 

I sharpened my elbows and pushed through crowds.

I grew ugly.  I grew old.  My elbows bled.

I looked again. 

My convictions didn’t change. 

But I changed what I was doing.

I turned my attention to the land. 

I grew a garden and discovered I’m no gardener but I like my sweet potatoes and my sunflowers.

It is all very simple.  Tread lightly on the earth.  And when you need to shout (with anger, or about your cause or just to be heard) make sure you know your way back home to yourself because your shout will have removed you from the centre of you.  

I have convictions.

So I wrote this poem.

Now I will go and learn about the guava tree.