When I was 13-or-so and I had my first boyfriend, Dean Herzog, there was a new movie, Guyana Tragedy. Dean's little brothers heard the title and my new name was born. They'd cry, "Trag is on the phooooooooone" when I called. As if we needed help in making this ritual more awkward. We never did drink Kool-aid together.
So, today, on the 30th anniversary of the Real Guyana Tragedy, I think of those who died for what they believed to be True. And how scary the Truths seem in the light. I think, too, at how far we have yet to go on this journey of emotions in the name of the church in the favor of a fickle god. Jim Jones may very well have been reincarnated as a neo-con political zealot, having perfected his skills since last time. I think of the babies, without choice, without articulation of their own Truths. I could easily be sad, though I'm not...
I breathe.
And I ponder how a world might taste if we all honored one another as human BEings...
I'd like to find out.
So, today, on the 30th anniversary of the Real Guyana Tragedy, I think of those who died for what they believed to be True. And how scary the Truths seem in the light. I think, too, at how far we have yet to go on this journey of emotions in the name of the church in the favor of a fickle god. Jim Jones may very well have been reincarnated as a neo-con political zealot, having perfected his skills since last time. I think of the babies, without choice, without articulation of their own Truths. I could easily be sad, though I'm not...
I breathe.
And I ponder how a world might taste if we all honored one another as human BEings...
I'd like to find out.
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