Asian women are murdered in Georgia; violence seeps through every public space. Then a smug purveyor of essential oils and new age healing posts on Twitter a recommendation for centering yourself as if nothing else is happening. People are dying but get yourself some nice new yoga pants. What does care of the soul even mean?
It’s a struggle every day. How do I pull myself together, commit to justice and look after myself?
I think of the self, myself and yours as connected and you can call this what you want–Jacob Boehme’s “Signature of All Things” has long been important to me. The 16th century German mystic saw God’s presence flowing through everything from pine stumps to windows to a man or woman’s bones. The “signature” comes from early book making–it’s the thread holding the pages together inside the spine.
Is it simplistic to say love flows invisibly through all things? Yes. And yet I’m never giving up on love.
White supremacists can’t touch the signature.
I don’t do yoga (probably to my detriment) and I’m not much for essential oils but it’s not lost on me that one of the massage parlors where women were murdered advertised aroma therapy.
Love is impeded, shattered, criminalized, but it flows and it never stops.
Planet of the Blind 
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