Trump is the new Pink Hair

Donald Trump supporters want pink hair..for goodness sake the man has about turned himself orange, perhaps he's the biggest orange-faced, orange-haired rebel of them all....??

Wait a minute?? Is that is?? Is all of this fuss about Trump because he is the epitome of dying your hair pink?  The latest version of burning your bra and giving Big Brother the two finger salute?  Is this the movement that I am seeing and the "why" behind it all?

Perhaps....but I do think I am on to something...

I mean all of his supporters can't possibly believe and feel the way he does, I mean not exactly?  Can the majority of Pennsylvania actually feel that building a wall between Mexico and the USA is a good idea and will keep illegal immigrants out of this country? I mean has everyone forgot about boats, planes, cars... or do they really believe that all these folks are running here?

Do all these people really believe we should be bombing entire families and barring people from our country because of religious beliefs??

OR ARE THEY JUST SICK OF BEING QUIET??!!

I think that THAT is it.  All these folks just want their vocal and living equivalent of pink hair.  They want to run and scream and get theirs and be heard... They want to feel and hold onto and scream and have someone understand and hear their cries, and they think their voice is Trump.  A man not afraid to dye his hair pink...errrr...I mean orange.  But still, let's not split hairs here...

This is a man not afraid to say the exact opposite of what he is "suppose to" say.  This man is fighting the quid pro quo.  He is the anti to the anti.  He is the rootin tootin gun slinging cowboy everyone has been waiting for.  The savior of the silent.  The beast of those burdened, and finally, the silent feel they have a voice...finally.

But the problem is, we don't need a cowboy with words.

Change must happen is within ourself.  We must find our voice.  We must find and explore our passions.  We muse explore what stirs our soul, because when we do that, we don't need to rely on anyone else's voice.  We don't need a man or woman to express our anger, our frustration, our sadness, our anything.  When we explore and be US, the anger and the need goes away.

I have lived through 43 years of presidents and not one of them has affected my life.  Not one.  My taxes have primarily stayed the same, my college tuition hasn't fluctuated, I still have healthcare that we pay for, and I am still putting money into Social Security... even though we have been threatened it was going to go away for decades.

I go to work, raise my kids, get to sleep without worry, eat, walk and live and nobody is affecting me because I refuse to let them.  Work, pay student loans, pay my taxes, live... President or no President and I'm good.  Just don't get my country into war... oh yeah...there's been that for the last decade...perhaps we could have done without that...But maybe that is my fear of having a yelling, cowboy without a plan for President.

Find yourself, explore your you... and you can stop looking for a man with orange hair to speak for you.  Because if you are really really honest with yourself, I don't think he is saying what is in your heart anyway.... 

The Medication of Silence

The days we find ourselves standing in line waiting for our life to "finally get here," is the line we find ourselves in because we are busy being safe.  Safe with the 401k, kids, family, our parents, society, politics.  We wait on the constant of fear.  Fear of failure, thoughts, judgements and falling down.

We campout inside of the false sense of security of "doing it right." We watch TV shows about people leaving their jobs and going to an island to live and say "I would love to do that one day." And yet most of us will never even take the trip to visit.

Living or dying inside of the wish.  Dying inside of the savings account or waiting for our parents to die.  Living within the space of a job, health insurance and school systems.  Always worried about rocking a boat we don't even realize we aren't driving.

The facade of security is actually the chains around our hands and feet.  This security is a myth because the society we live in makes us believe it exists, yet we are one pink slip from being homeless.

Standing within the insanity of losing everything that we have worked so hard for, just to stand in muted fear of someone taking away the very thing that holds our mouths shut, our feet planted and our minds numb of life.

We wear the same clothes, have the same hair, raise the same kids and sit on the same chairs, all living and believing that we are following our purpose... never to wake up to the fact that we are inside of every day fueling another day in the life of nothing important.

We judge the homeless to make believe we aren't just a little jealous that they have no thumb on their head.  We scoff at the poor asking "why didn't they go to college or get the job that will give them what I have," not realizing that their life is no less miserable.  All of it is within the perspective of ignoring one's soul...or are they?

All of it is about waking, walking, eating, sleeping and doing it all over again the next day and next day and next day, until our children wish to do something once we die and they don't have to take care of us and visit anymore.

We all live or die to make it.... I guess then, the biggest question is, what is "it?"

A house, a car, a vacation once a year? A flat screen? going out to dinner? security?

The definition for each of us is different.  For so many of us we need medication to allow society's "it" to become our "it."  For so many of us, we still the fire within us, the stirring of our soul with Meth, Heroin, alcohol, cigarettes, shopping, sex...just to quiet the jolt of knowing "this isn't for me."

People are killing themselves well after they have already deemed themselves dead.  They are overdosing on the pain that this society and norm has done to their soul and then acting on the death by killing their bodies with the medication of the day.

We judge, we scoff, we roll our eyes at people who don't fit in, are different, who don't blend...and then wonder why when they can't take one more painful day, take a drug to take them as far away from here as they can get.....

Stop wondering...

The pendulum of "normal" is shifting to include those of us that don't succumb or subscribe to society's insanity.  Little Houses, pilgrimages the counter culture that is emerging is screaming, "we don't subscribe to this anymore!" and I love it.

Challenge and change instead of dying before your death.  Make Life instead of killing yourselves with medications of silence. 

Fighting Pink Hair

My soul is on fire and I hope yours is to....

Every day that I am complacent within my soul's purpose, I am not acting on the fire that lives within every cell of my body.  Every day that I am angry at myself for being "bad" or "less-than" or within the space that this human society says is bad, good, normal, against... I am in hell.  Where within my soul's purpose is there room for the explosion of purpose.  Draped in Gucci, Coach, Prada and all the other crap labels that we have been brainwashed to believe can actually define a person..which maybe it can...all the while stifling a soul being made to think we have found the answer of happiness and purpose...in a thing.

where is the world when we write, sing, heal, befriend, soil, spill, talk and cry... where is the fame in love? Where is the hope in the flight of a bird? Where is the beauty police when breastfeeding, holding an infant or feeding a puppy?

We stifle our soul within the lax garbage of imagery, spoon-fed by people who believe they are living... but all they are really doing is buying and selling the false sense of happiness.

We crush our hearts every day deciding to do it the normal way, the safe way, the way that will bring security.  But what is that security costing us.  Do we really long to wake up every day to eat Cheerios, and go to work to buy more shoes? Is life really about being so normal you can't tell one of us from another?

Perhaps the anxiety and depression living within so many of my friends and family is the unquenchable thirst for chaos.  The desire to run and go and do and create.  The fire that is living within, is the stirring of a soul to escape the bullshit that is our society.  Perhaps they can't hear one more minute that our Country is going to bomb countries, kill women and children and that this is the norm that their soul is suppose to be ok with.

The stirring within you is real and shoving it down a pipe is killing everything your soul wants for you.

I want to shave my head, color my hair pink, wear dresses and scream from the top of a building...THIS IS ALL CRAP...ALL OF IT!!

One more fundraiser with fancy dresses and expensive crappy dinners and drinks.  One more conversation about nothing with a side of elitist crap and I may explode from the hypocrisy that is complete insanity.

We are not what is.  We are not any of THIS.  We are so much more..We are nothing and  everything. We are color.  We are sound.  We are energy.  We are insanity and sanity and love and hate.

We are the fire in the pit of heaven and hell.  We are more dead today than anyone we have lost.

Find your fire, your flame, your stirring, your chaos, your pissed-off self that can't be contained.

Stop finding it ok to be normal...it's killing you.