Deleting His-story and Rewriting Our-story  

Deleting His-story and Rewriting Our-story  
Alchemising our fragmented past into a unified future.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. – Emily Dickinson

I’m in full exuberant support of writing true history. I believe it is important to change our perspectives and perceptions. Clear perspectives and perceptions are everything, they usher in hope! How wonderful to be hopeful, in alignment and in sync as consciousness upgrades. How purposeful to be vigilant and aware of who we are individually and also how we are simultaneously not separate from the whole web of existence. I find it deeply refreshing and faith-restoring to see what’s happening in the world around us in these unprecedented times. I am enlivened by this fierce call for truth and integrity that is ringing through the digital airways and also resonating in the physical realm through my body and being. It can be painful and exhilarating all at once; as is the wonder of most births or rebirths. 

History is perpetually evolving and how we record it truly matters. The language we choose and the varying points-of-view should all conspire to a unanimous truthful representation of the way we were. History should never speak of who we are – How can it? We can never truly move forward if we keep holding ourselves and each other to who we used to be. Reform and positive-reinvention thrive in forward-thinking and progressive outlooks and environments. When perspective and perception are facing towards the new and the emerging, we have a real chance of lasting change. We have a real chance of a harmonious, cooperative paradigm that leads the way, that calls us on, that calls us home. Emergence beckons us to spontaneity, surprise and often the unknown. I am opening, surrendering, letting go and diving in (and sometimes I’m waiting on the precipice for a shove … fortunately, Existence never lets me down).

I see how the past holds us captive, its beautiful ruin etched on the mind’s eye. — Natasha Tretheway

Alt text hereHistory is perpetually evolving and how we record it truly matters. Image: Giammarco Boscaro

HIS-story: We all nod at the obvious play on words here. But it’s a bitter reminder that quite literally men denied women literacy for thousands of years (and in some cultures they still do). I love the idea of rewriting HIStory into OURstory. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? This is a word we can change in support of the current zeitgeist of making amends. I am all for ameliorating language and flags and narratives that keep us stuck and fixed in the past. We all get blindly and nostalgically attached to habits and traditions and symbols that no longer (or never were) aligned with our true heart values. What if we changed these to truly align with our innate kind beliefs?

I see the fraught debates as high schools and institutions are renamed after shining lights in the egalitarian evolution of ourstory. It feels good and just to no longer commemorate outdated, inhumane and cruel practices and those who lead these abhorrent acts or perpetuated these fear-based mindsets. We cannot change history … but we can rewrite ourstory so in its current iteration, it is inclusive, honouring, healing and true.

Healing the Past as We Honour the Way Forward

As the statues come down I get a thrill of excitement. It’s as though I myself am being released, that a ball and chain of the collective shame of humanity is being freed. On the separatist surface, I hurt you. In the Oneness garden that could only be written as, we hurt one another. As one humanity, all acts of violence are against ourselves. We diminish the brilliance and potential of humanity a little with any act of pain, big or small, inflicted on ourselves. The antidote to all human suffering is love, kindness, forgiveness and forward-thinking into the Now.  

Many people want the statues destroyed or thrown into the rivers or the oceans. I don’t want that. I want them melted down. I want them alchemised into little coins with peace symbols upon them. I then want those emblems of hope to be sold for a lot of money; I mean a substantial amount of money, say a minimum of $100,000 dollars. Then the people who buy the peace emblem coins donate them and the money to projects that make a significant difference. If there are statues of slave traders then melt them down to make peace coins to sell to help build, for example, a well-resourced school or community centre in poorer underprivileged black neighbourhoods. The energetic supportive rhetoric is encouraging and there needs to be right-restorative-action. Money is an actual energy currency that can ripple hope into communities and into the world by truly making a difference in people’s lives. 

This matters — change matters — making real amends matters. 

Alt text hereAlchemising the past into ‘Peace Coins’, symbols of a more loving future. Image: ZSun Fu

I believe it is important to see the alchemy, to see the transformation in that symbolic coin of brass or bronze. I imagine these peace symbols set in the steps leading up to the entrance of parks, schools, colleges, beautiful new regenerative green housing estates, free access libraries, hospitals and medical centres etc. I imagine each person that crosses those thresholds recognises that change, reformation, making amends is always possible and will always heal even the most generationally fragmented traumatised people. I believe that at the heart of our shared humanity we want to make things right and we want to learn from our mistakes. I am all for the opportunity to show our great capacity to transform pain into hope, past horrors into new dreams, to right wrongs and to build strong, robust human wings: wings worthy of angels. 

Two poems come to mind, the first by Emily Dickinson:

“Hope” is the Thing with Feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Alt text here“Hope” is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul. Image: Nowshad Arefin

And this too, from the beautiful Maya Angelou, which in contrast and compliment speaks to the heart of shared humanity, equality and of course Oneness. 

Caged Bird

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

~

Hope is the thing with feathers. And feathers come in every colour and from every continent on our shared planet-home. Feathers offer protection from the changing elements. Feathers are synonymous with flight. Today, flight is entwined with stories of coming home.  May we all welcome each other home into the oneness of our shared glorious humanity. 

We’d love to give you wings of inspiration as you read and reflect on this article. Let us know your prayers and feelings and insights in the comments below as we all fly wing to wing. 

Much soaring love to you all

Paul and Team UPLIFT

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