Metta: noun
Definition: Loving-kindness, the Buddhist virtue of kindness; also called maitri. Word of Pali origin.
[CN: child abuse & domestic violence]
Surviving child abuse is like busting out of your ruin, a jail in a home. You were in long so you forgot
your name, that you whole & all those memories, how they run ass-naked across your mind & threaten to scream louder past the bars until they all you hear. You see women beat,
they your kin,
and the men you hope can do better. You grieve the put-downs, the belt-swinging at everyone, the hushed house everyone thinks is Cosby-perfect. Endure again & again & against until you no longer feel the pain of others, family, the shame. You grieve losing innocence, or childhood, a water clock you don’t get back + having to experience rejection. You tell the story so much, worry that people close one day might betray you. You blame the belt swinger for the blood in your eyes.
You see them. You try to hurt them like they hurt you.
You deny the abuse happened.
Your abuser does not remember abusing.
You refuse to engage with your abuser. Their presence reopens old wounds. You try to heal but it hurts. You like a worm on a bamboo stick hooked on the teeth of lies. Pain pushes you to find silence somewhere. For a while you find silence
in a blunt,
but that silence evaporates like smoke.
Nirvana is a kind of smoke, and Buddhism a jewel.
So, you crawl into the filled rows, find a Buddhist monastery with black people there. Answers in silent, a cycle in your mind, the only cycle you know.
A boddhisatva in black sits in front of you.
You find answers.
You are the peace you seek, your body is a monastery briefly when you sleep.
Being here helps.
Here helps you remember.
You see the bird on the wall and fall asleep.
The moments of bliss are a pillow in your mind. You find your inner-strength, the god of joy.
You are not crashed away in your room, not there anymore. You smile because you a song of meaning.
This wave of good feelings surrounded by darkness is your calm. You remember eight-year-old you,
boy whose teacher called him a gift. You hold good memories in your hand like your favorite green marble.
This is metta, loving-kindness, the wish to hold good in your mind like jasper in your lap.
You have not forgotten the pain, but he does not get to stay around
it’s in your desire to heal, your willingness to caress a new story.
Metta Loving-Kindness
version from QTPoC Meditation
May we be happy.
May we be supported in times of sorrow.
May we be healthy.
May we be supported in times of poor health.
May we be free from danger.
May we be supported when we feel unsafe.
May we live with a sense of ease.
May we be supported in learning to let go.
May we be happy.
May we cultivate our inner sense of joy.
May we be healthy.
May we support our wellbeing with self-care.
May we be free from danger.
May we hold ourselves in compassion
So as to feel safer from oppression.
May we live with a sense of ease.
May we support ourselves in letting go
of what does not serve us on our path to liberation.
May we experience joy.
May we feel mental, physical, and spiritual wellbeing.
May we enjoy moments free from suffering.
May we know unconditional love.
Lyric poem edited by OAO
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Six pink and white origami (folded paper) cranes are lined up on a chain-link fence. The fence is red, the paint chipping off to reveal silver metal underneath. Bright green leaves are behind the fence. The cement in front of the fence is splattered with the old red paint. The photo is shot so that the paper cranes are ascending.
About Roman Johnson:
Roman Johnson is a scholar-activist and writer of fiction and non-fiction. His poems are found or forthcoming at the Good Men Project and African Voices, and his non-fiction can be found at Racebaitr, Arab America, and the Fellowship Magazine. He loves peace and is committed to his healing process and helping others to spark that process in themself.
About Karen Kaye Llamas:
Karen Kaye Llamas is a disabled Filipino illustrator. Her works frequently allude to personal experiences living with mental illness, and beauty snatched alongside strangeness and isolation. Born in the Philippines, immigrated to the U.S. at the age of 7, she currently resides in NYC. Support QTPoC art by buying Karen's Sweet Girlfriends Coloring Book on Amazon or getting the PDF on etsy.
I know few get the opportunity to heal. That’s the motivation that drives me to do healing justice work. But in offering community support, I often forget that I’m part of the community too, that I deserve access to heal from trauma. And those “I don’t deserve _____s” are all giving voice to my survivor’s guilt.
Communication is super, super important. Yet no one really taught me how to communicate about sex. I’ve begun to ask myself why I am so afraid to be seen.
Even if there is tension among your bio family, you are still loved and honored for who you are in the other spaces you create for yourself. No one can take that from you.
I don't know what God meant to do by putting something so un-straight on top of a head so un-straight, but there are reasons they say this is unmanageable / Not because it is impossible to love, or to care for, but because it is impossible to subdue.
As a queer and trans person of color who struggled for years to understand what healing meant, I've learned a few things on my self-healing journey that countless self-help books failed to tell me.
By every measure, I’m getting better. But here’s the confession I’d like to make: Sometimes, I wish I never got better, and I wish I were still in my bed.
We are here, and we are healing by taking up more space through kink.
I made sure to carve separate spaces where these feelings could breathe and expand to their fullest extent.
The best tricks are the ones that keep you alive. This is the one I invented for myself to soothe me in my lonely nights. I call it my most beautiful illusion, it's me at my most honest but nonetheless still a lie.
I was later to realize that it was all about control.
love demands time / to break borders and / to build bridges. / so give yourself time and / the honour to love. / so give yourself the care / to love your own soul / and oneness of existence.
I learned about Sufism, Jainism, Kemetism, Buddhism, Shinto, ancestor worship, Hoodoo, and many other ways of being. I learned about myself.
Each interview is a gold mine, a feast of quotes to be hung up on walls, tattooed on arms, and copied in notebooks. A flurry of words to hold close on nights when being seen seems impossible and it feels as if no one else in the world knows who or what you are.
I think of the story she told me of stealing fruit from her grandfather’s shrine to Ogun. I want to reach past her and my Christian grandparents, pluck that fruit, and make an offering of it.
The role models I had access to were white, affluent and held a lot of disdain for women with lives different than theirs. But back then they had an image, and their way to be trans was what I had.
You refuse to engage with your abuser. Their presence reopens old wounds. You try to heal but it hurts. You like a worm on a bamboo stick hooked on the teeth of lies. Pain pushes you to find silence somewhere.
When abusers deny us our reality, it’s gaslighting. When we enact that denial on ourselves, it’s equal parts survival skill and self-harm. Yet we have the ability to change how we treat ourselves, even if we can't change how others treat us.
every villain is often a caricature of marginalised identities, and every hero is a glorified image of the world that wants to destroy me and those I love.
a photo-prayer to document and archive the resilience, faith and self love I vowed to maintain. This is me in my magic, my resistance and in my legacy.
Those feelings didn’t come from some magic place that could be addressed by a back-to-school special and a hug. They came from racism, queerphobia and white supremacy.
We are divine. The barrier between us and divinity can be destroyed by the realization that our queerness is exactly what makes us worthy.
When we heal, we are able to be more to each other and ourselves. And not in that way where it eventually makes us good productive workers. We become more invested in ourselves, and we have more of ourselves to utilize in the ways that bring joy for everyone, including us.
In order to harm ourselves less and care more, we need to look at our relationship with the world around us. The problem isn’t how we’re hurting ourselves, but that we’re hurting ourselves at all.
Becoming sober has allowed me to discover who I really am and has allowed me to fall in love with myself. I still battle with thoughts of drinking because I live at home with my dad, but I know that putting my life in jeopardy and hurting my loved ones is not a risk I'm willing to take.
Our denial of our needs (and to be clear, needs, not wants) does not create a more just world. Food, shelter, safety and caring relationships are necessary to all.
We require physical rest, emotional connections, daydreaming, food, laughter, purpose. And all of these things prevent us from fitting neatly into a machine model.
Self-care is so simple it can also be simple to forget. If you need time to put down work and check out from life, then take it. Know that you are restoring your energy for the challenges of life.