What I Know

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Grandchildren are amazing…such a gift. I feel truly fortunate to be a grandmother. And I cherish my identity as their Nana. Being a grandparent is so different than being a parent…so wonderfully different. Parents bear some responsibility for how their children turn out…the kind of adults they become. Of course, that path is skewered by stupid free will. Right?! Kids making their own horrible choices despite their parent’s best efforts. No parent can be completely responsible for the trajectory of their child. It is way too much of a crap shoot. I often felt like I wasn’t raising my kids as much as just hanging on for the ride. And it was a ride.

But a grandchild. That is a whole different ballgame. You aren’t responsible for raising another child. You are responsible for loving a child. That’s it. That’s the grandparent game. Just love them…and spoil them, of course. I have an almost impossible time telling my grandchildren no…and they know it too…the little fuckers. Gotta love ‘em. It seems like “no” should not be in a grandparent’s vocabulary.

I love all my grandchildren. They are each special and unique. However, any honest grandparent will admit there is something special about the first one. The one that bestows the role of grandma or grandpa…or Nana, upon you. This miracle that came from your own baby. Your baby had a baby! Remember them growing up? It is miraculous! The person you raised and hoped would turn out to be a good human being and helpful member of society, has created another human being…a gift for you. A grandchild.

Now my first grandchild, Jovi, just turned 18. That’s amazing. Time does indeed fly, but I won’t digress down that rabbit hole. At least not today. My daughter was 20 when Jovi was born. His official name is Javon Richard. I suggested Javon for his name. I got the idea from Javon Walker, a former wide receiver. I’m not sure my daughter wanted my help but I thrust it upon her. Richard is his uncle’s middle name and his great uncle’s first name. I was lucky enough to be my daughter’s labor coach and to be present when Jovi came into the world. I was the first person to hold him after his mom…seemed only right she should be first.

There he was all pink and precious. Not crying. Just looking around, taking it all in. He was so tiny. Babies feel so delicate. He felt delicate…like he could easily break. I held him so tenderly. I watched as the nurses washed him up and diapered him. Being born is a messy business…lots of gunk. The nurses, who work with newborns every day, did not consider him as fragile. I had to refrain from asking them not to break him…which of course they did not.

I could not get enough of that baby. That beautiful boy. My grandson. My first grandchild. I spent my second night in the hospital with them so I could help my daughter. Really it allowed me hours to hold him while she slept. I was smitten. It was impossible to put him down. So, I didn’t.

I was also fortunate that my daughter and that beautiful baby lived with me at the time. I spent the first several weeks sleeping in my recliner with him snug on my chest. I would get up during the night after she nursed him and I would take him so she could rest. We would cuddle on the recliner until morning. Fueled by the love of this tiny human I suddenly did not need sleep. That time was precious to me. It was our time to bond. And bond we did.

We are very close. Jovi, and his mom, lived with me for the first two years of his life and then he spent many years asking if they could live with me again. He would give me different scenarios and ask if they could live with me then. For example, if they were suddenly homeless. I am grateful he did not have the power to make any of those scenarios happen. He also offered to live with me without his mom…he would visit her of course.

For my birthday one year he gave me a ring. I told my wife that I was pretty sure I was now engaged to my grandson. He was 6 or 7. It is gloriously indescribable to be loved so completely. I knew how much he loved me, and he knew my love for him. We both still know…even though he’s a man now…a young man. He graduated from high school in May. He is a young man, and he is a good man. My beautiful boy.

When Jovi was 8 or 9 a neighbor called the police and told them a child was outside with a gun. The police came to find him outside with an orange toy gun. Hard to see how an orange toy was mistaken for a real gun. I am grateful that officers did not arrive with guns drawn. I am grateful that they did not shoot Jovi…like they did Tamir Rice. Just the thought horrifies me. I’m not sure what people are thinking when they do things like that. I have my theories, but I shall keep them to myself…for now.

A few nights ago, I got a phone call in the middle of the night…here on the east coast, not quite in Colorado. Jovi was on the phone and terribly upset. He clearly was angry about something. I had him take a couple of breaths and tell me what was going on. And this is what he told me…he had been waiting for the light rail in Denver, on the campus of the Community College downtown. When the train came, and he was trying to board, two police officers stopped him and said they wanted to talk to him. He agreed to talk to them but asked them not to touch him. Because, after all, he was not doing anything but sitting on a bench. Jovi repeated his request a second time and in response the officers grabbed him, handcuffed him, and pushed him back on a bench.

Jovi does not trust the police. That’s why he didn’t want them to touch him. Maybe I don’t even need to say this…Jovi is black…bi-racial. He has reasons not to trust the police. He called them once for help when a man was threatening him…a white man. When the police came, they let the white man go, kept my grandson, and interrogated him about what he was doing to upset that man. It was the white man who threatened to beat up my grandson. He was 16 at the time.

As Jovi was sitting on the bench, he asked the police if he could call his mom, his uncle, or his lawyer. He doesn’t have a lawyer, but the request was enough that any questioning should have stopped immediately. The officers had taken Jovi’s phone and would not allow him to use it. He called out to a woman passing by and asked her to call his mom. Please. He yelled the number to her, and she called. Thank God she called. My daughter got on the phone with the police.

My daughter is not an uninvolved parent. She is hands on. She knows her kids and she is involved in their lives. And they trust her. Jovi trusts her. She found out that these officers were campus police, not the Denver police. But please be clear, they had guns. They said that Jovi matched the description of a suspect they were looking for…and that detailed, specific description? Hispanic male, white shirt. So, Jovi is black, and he always wears a hoodie, black or red…no white shirt. While my daughter talked to the officer, he changed the description of the suspect to match Jovi perfectly. After 45 minutes, they finally admitted it was not him they were searching for. They removed the handcuffs and allowed him to leave. My daughter got badge numbers and names. She will file a complaint.

Fortunately, it is only a complaint to file and not a funeral to plan. That thought and the sound of my grandson’s voice on the phone created a rage in me that I have never felt before. I was on fire. This was an explosive anger that made me want to lash out. To threaten someone with severe consequences if they touched my grandson again. I wanted to unleash a fury I did not know I was capable of.

I consider myself a peaceful person, but I was boiling inside. I wanted to hurt the people who hurt my grandson. But I did my best to remain calm and balanced in my tone. Careful with my words. Jovi was already angry. He was angry, sad, and confused. All the overwhelming feelings brought him to tears. He could not understand why that happened to him. He asked me why the police would do that to him when he wasn’t doing anything but waiting for the train. I could not…and can not answer that for him.

I felt devastated that this happened to my grandson…my beautiful boy…well, man. I was heartbroken for him. And I had my own questions. Is this really where we’re at in this country? Still? Have we not evolved at all? Have we learned nothing from the past? Has nothing changed since George Floyd? Michael Brown? Manuel Ellis? Breonna Taylor? Stephon Clark? And we all know I could go on and on and on…sadly. It’s horrifying.

As I went over this situation in my mind, I wondered what it is that makes a man want his mother in a moment of total helplessness. Jovi wanted his mom. George Floyd cried out for his mom. Now this situation was not the same. But then George Floyd’s situation wasn’t either, until it was. Maybe it’s a longing to be safe in the arms of the woman who carefully carried you within her own body for 9 months, protecting you to make sure you entered the world healthy and whole. That is a powerful bond. Perhaps it’s this powerful force that’s yearned for in moments when the world seems out of control. The woman you know would do anything for you. Anything to protect you and keep you safe. And she did…my daughter did. She was there on the phone until Jovi was released and safely on his way home to her.

My grandson was traumatized that night waiting for the train. I’m sure he has PTSD. That experience strengthened his distrust of the police. It’s hard to teach someone that the police are here to help you when they never have. When all they’ve done is hurt you. How do you trust anyone when they have given you no reason to trust them? When their actions betray your trust? Betray you? When will we wake up? Do we remember that the policing force began as a means to catch and return runaway slaves? How can a system founded on racism not be racist? It was designed to pursue and capture black people. When will we see that the whole system has to change…we need a new system. Because this one is not working. It is fundamentally flawed. If you doubt me, google innocent black people killed by police officers. You will find more evidence than you would ever need…overwhelming evidence.

I am grateful my grandson is alive and well. I wish I could believe this would never happen to him again, but I don’t. He must learn to be passive with the police to survive. What the absolute fuck?! He cannot question the police or tell them no if he wants to live…and live free. It is confusing, sad, and infuriating. As my grandson, and all my grandchildren, were growing up I talked to them about fairness and justice…right and wrong. I told them that if you do the right things, you won’t get in trouble, and you will be safe. But that is a lie. I taught them a lie. Because you can do the right thing and end up in handcuffs because you look suspicious…meaning you are black. Bi-racial. Brown. All my grandchildren are bi-racial. What will happen to them as they get older? I am afraid to think about it.

As I get older, I realize I don’t know many things…really know them. What I do know is that love is the most important thing. What really matters is how we love people. Love is a genuine desire for another person’s well- being. A deep affection for someone. It involves care and respect…concern…trust in a person’s integrity and inherent worth. Seeing value in other people. Seems simple but we suck at it as a society.

We allow fear to run our country and our emotions. If you look different, are a different race, religion, if your body doesn’t function like mine, you express yourself in a way I don’t understand, or you love differently than me then I fear you. We fear difference rather than embrace it. We like sameness…but only certain sameness. The white, male, wealthy, Christian sameness. That is where the power lies…that is where the love lies. Where we place our admiration. That is what we value.

But couldn’t we change? Couldn’t we expand our thinking, become more accepting…choose to befriend people with differences rather than reject them. Couldn’t we be better…be more…the best versions of ourselves. We are capable of so much more…so much more than what we see in our society now…what is happening now. We seem to have lost the ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes…to show compassion, kindness, understanding…to treat others as we want to be treated.

I know I do not want to be accosted and handcuffed when I am sitting on a bench waiting for a train. Screaming for a strangers help because I am alone and terrified. Do I care if it happens to someone else? I better. We better. Do I turn a blind eye as long as it’s not me…or my grandson. Perhaps that is a starting point. Taking my focus off of just me…what’s best for me and my family. Forgetting the billions of other people who inhabit this country and this world with me…with us.

I know this, if it happens to them, whoever them is, it can happen to me…and you. And if we don’t believe that, we have not been paying attention. Love demands that we turn our focus to others. That we care. Love demands the truth. And we have some truth facing to do here.

Now I am not asking anyone to do anything that I am not doing myself. Searching myself. I have a lot of questions and so much to learn. Where there’s injustice love demands transformation. Seek justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly. Let’s all do that…seek justice, give mercy, be humble. Recognize we don’t have all the answers. But we can care more, offer kindness, compassion. Let’s open our minds and our hearts…because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Let’s not fail at our most important job.

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Missed Opportunities

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I was talking to my sister the other day, and I don’t remember why, but she asked me if I remembered a book we had as kids that was about a girl who wanted to be a ballet dancer. She wasn’t able to be a dancer because she had some sort of health problem. My sister didn’t remember the health problem…I didn’t remember the book. That is until she described a page where the girl was kneeling on the coach and looking out the window as her friends rode their bikes. But she couldn’t join them. I remember that one image. I remember that she was sad.

My sister wondered why my mom would have picked that book for us. The 60’s was not exactly the age of disability awareness and inclusion. I don’t think she was a champion of disability rights. Or that she was particularly sensitive to the needs of the disabled. She used to refer to my dad as a “cripple” …sooo…. However, my mom had a heart problem from complications of rheumatic fever as a child. She had a damaged valve and because of that she was limited on her physical activity as a child.

So, I wonder, could she have given us the book as a window into her life as a child? I don’t have any idea…and I never will. If she was sharing herself with us, she needed to provide more information. I’m guessing for my sister and I it was an interesting book, and we had varying degrees of sadness for the little girl. My sister would have been the one to remember the ending, but she doesn’t. It may remain a mystery…unless I track down the book. Look out google.

My mom loved sports. She liked football and college basketball, but she LOVED baseball. She loved the St. Louis Cardinals. We lived in Chicago when I was young, and I remember going to Cardinals v Cubs double headers as a kid. My mom was an encyclopedia of baseball facts. She remembered games, players, coaches, managers, owners, playoffs, trades, botched calls, and specific plays. She was a wealth of knowledge. I remember Ozzie Smith because he was my favorite Cardinal. And hot dogs were the best at a baseball game…kind of grosses me out now but I was young. For my mom’s 90th birthday we took her to a Cardinals game against the Rays, here in Florida, and she had a hot dog…mustard, relish, and onion. She was happy.

My mom would have loved to play sports, but she couldn’t because of her heart. When she was young there were not many options for girls. Schools didn’t have competitive teams. She might have been happy to play baseball on the playground with the boys, but she couldn’t. She must have been so frustrated. I also love sports. My opportunities to play were nothing like today but I played basketball, softball, and swam competitively. I can’t imagine what I would have done without those sports. I did play football with the boys in the backyard, and I had a basketball hoop that I was at all the time. I wanted to be Oscar Robertson. There were no women players for me to look up to at the time. I would have given anything to play in the WNBA.

Maybe my mom identified with that little girl in the book. Always being the one on the inside looking out. Wanting so much but never having the chance. Maybe that’s why she bought it for us…because she was that girl.

When I graduated from law school my mom told me she always wanted to be a lawyer. What?! I never knew that. I don’t remember her ever talking about a career she wanted. I figured she wanted to be a mom…and to devote herself to her amazing daughters. Right?! She told me she always wanted kids. My dad said if it wasn’t for him, they would not have had any children. I don’t know what was true, and I never will.

I worry that my mom felt like her life was filled with missed opportunities. Or that it was filled with second choices…or third choices. I guess I don’t need to worry now but it’s sad. It’s sad to think of all the frustration she must have felt. It’s sad to be one of the daughters who may not have been her first choice. And it’s sad she didn’t fight for herself. I know opportunities were not the same but there were schooling options for her, especially as we got older. She had choices. They may have been limited but she had them. I wonder why she didn’t advocate for herself. Maybe she did and I just don’t know. She was pretty vocal about what she felt she deserved and didn’t get. Or in what ways other people didn’t give her what she wanted, so I feel like I would have heard.

I wonder what it would be like to feel like your life was a missed opportunity because there was so much you wanted but it was all just out of reach…and you believed there was nothing you could do about it. I don’t really know. I have limitations in my life due to disability and chronic pain, but I don’t feel like I’ve missed out on life. I’ve been married (more than once), had children, gone to school, earned advanced degrees, experienced multiple careers, and met many wonderful people. There are things I cannot do but those are not the things that define my life. My life is full of experiences and opportunities and lots of people I really love. There may be things I would have done differently, but I consider my life well lived…well living…I’m not dead yet.

I’m sad for my mom today. Sad to think she didn’t have the chance to reach her full potential. Or to become fully who she was meant to be. And sad because she missed the chance to feel proud of herself. Proud that she had done something that really meant a lot to her, because being a wife and mom were not those things. I think in the end those missed opportunities weighed on her…on her self-esteem.

All that makes me eager to follow my dreams, even when they seem like a fairy tale. To take chances and try new things. To bring awareness to all the areas of my life. To live intentionally. To make my choices where I have them and not be content to let life happen to me. Seize the day and all that shit. And to love freely, fully, generously, and always. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Becoming Who I Am

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about purpose…my purpose, other people’s purpose, the country’s purpose, the world…so much thinking going on in this head of mine…all the damn time. I believe that my purpose is to become who I am. That’s my mission. Become fully who I am. I think that’s everyone’s purpose. Their personal purpose. People can have other purposes other goals. Purposes bigger than themselves. My beyond myself purpose, as in what I’m meant to do, is to help people heal, have healthy relationships, and become the best version of themselves. To use my pain to help others in pain. To turn traumas into triumphs…that’s super corny. How about…to use every experience, good or bad, for an evolution. An evolution into our complete and beautiful selves. Life can be so hard but even in the difficulties there are opportunities to learn and grow…for transformation. Like a caterpillar reduced to goo in order to become what they are meant to be, a butterfly. The butterfly is in there…waiting to become. We are all waiting to become.

Now to become who I am, I have to know who I am. I often say that in order to be loved we have to be known. And to be known we have to be seen. We don’t let people see who we are unless we trust them. Trust that they can accept what they see and that they can handle us with gentleness…like you would a baby. When I worked in child protection I had to remove a baby from his mom because of substance abuse. The mom brought her son into me voluntarily because she could she knew…she understood what her son needed. While I was waiting for the foster parents, I held that infant in my arms. My workplace tended to be busy, kind of loud, and fast paced, but I couldn’t be any of those things with an infant in my arms. I told coworkers we should all hold babies everyday. We couldn’t hurry or raise our voices, if we had to focus on the baby first. Everything else would be secondary. Everyone who worked there would have been less stressed and a better human because of it.

Now back to my point…although I do love babies. That is not my point. Just as we want to be handled by other people tenderly and gently, like a baby, we need to offer that same softness to ourselves. I never want to scare or startle a baby. It would be cruel to make them cry intentionally. But I can be cruel with myself. I am not going to let anyone else see me and know me if they are cruel to me. I will keep myself hidden and you will see a shell of who I am. I will protect myself. I do the same thing dealing with myself. I don’t always see fully or know myself because I am harsh with me. I am impatient. I expect myself to know everything and be perfect. How’s that going for me? Not great. But what would I see with tenderness? With unconditional acceptance and love? If I handled my fragile heart like I did that baby in my arms.

I love to read, and I am usually reading 4-5 books at a time. I have categories of what I read, health, politics/history, spirituality, abuse recovery/personal growth, and something just for pleasure. Well…I read all the books for pleasure. For a long time, I thought I’d come across THE book, the one that would answer all my questions and make me feel whole and complete. It would fill in the holes I feel in my life…not my life so much as my person. Gaps in my development…gaps I perceive. Holes where I feel something lacking…something missing.

I have not found that one book. The one with the answers. The one that shows me how to put the puzzle of me together into a final picture. Nothing more to do because it’s complete…I am complete. All the pieces are there, and they fit so neatly. I will never find that because no such book exists. The answers for me and about me, are already here. They are in me.

When I read books for personal growth I am not putting something into me to make me better. Make me more. I am awakening something already there. Something hidden or buried. Unattended. Neglected. I am realizing nothing needs to be added for me to be complete. Something needs to be freed. So much of who we are gets buried. Buried by time. Buried by trauma and pain. Buried by loss, fear, or neglect. Or by refusal…refusal to accept or understand. Or buried by success, wealth, power. Whatever we experience that causes us to forget or reject who we are.

In our search for ourselves we take on false identities because we learned from an early age that what we see before us is not enough. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not healthy, skinny, funny, determined, capable, or whatever enough. We seek an image of who we think we should be. Who we believe we need to be. An image forced upon us. I cannot find me in a coerced image. I will not love me if I don’t know me. And I will not know me if I don’t see me. I cannot see me as long as I force an ideal upon myself. An ideal I know innately is not me…and never will be. I am seen when I allow my broken and beautiful self to be uncovered. My perfectly imperfect me.

Love demands that we become who we are. Who we are meant to be. To come fully into our isness…or my meness. To fully inhabit the person that is me. We must see ourselves as we are…all the damage and imperfections. See ourselves with kindness. With compassion. See so we can know…so we can love. See without the external cosmetics I use to disguise the flaws…the parts that scare me. Me without fear. Me without conditions. Me with complete acceptance. Me in all my messiness. The broken and beautiful me. The me that steps out of the goo of transformation…and is ready to fly. The freedom found in just being me.

We already have everything we need. We can stop the search. Relax and appreciate the goo. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people…that includes ourselves. In fact, it begins with ourselves. Let’s give ourselves a big helping of love and see what we can see.

Saying Goodbye to Pope Francis

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

When I turned on the television Monday, I was surprised to hear that the Pope died. I am sad. Sad because he was a good and genuine man. He was a decent man. Those kinds of men, or people, are not so easy to come by these days. I think he’s the only Pope I’ve ever really liked.

I was raised Catholic. I say “raised” because I do not identify as Catholic now. There were too many things I could not accept. Too many things that felt wrong. For example, my marriage being a sin because I married a woman. I get no credit for the almost 14 years of marriage, 17 years together. No acknowledgment for a loving, faithful commitment to one person for the rest of my life. Anyone who is married knows that is no small thing…in fact, anyone who is a human being in any relationship ever knows that love, commitment, faithfulness, kindness are huge things. Huge important life altering things. Dismissing my marriage because I checked the female box instead of male is shortsighted and cruel.

The Pope is infallible. That is a key tenet of Catholicism. I do not believe that any human is infallible, not even the Pope. A quick glance around our world right now, or just our country, explains my position clearly. People are motivated by all kinds of things, greed, power, wealth, acclaim, fame…you get the idea. All those varied motives do not lead to infallibility.

Past Popes have not been so kind and accepting. Many Popes have done things to lead me to the conclusion that they are just men, not at all infallible, and in some cases not even good people. Here’s a few highlights, or lowlights: Pope Alexander VI created a scandal by bribing fellow electors. He essentially bought the papacy. He appointed relatives to power, killed off rival cardinals and kept their valuable property for himself. Pope Stephen VI had his predecessor exhumed and his corpse placed on the throne to stand trial. Boniface VIII issued a proclamation that all of Europe’s kings and their armies were under his supreme control. Urban VI had cardinals who opposed him brutally murdered and complained, as they died, that their screams were not loud enough. Leo X drove the church’s finances deep into debt, so he sold indulgences to buy forgiveness for sins or get a dead relative out of purgatory. John XII was 18 when he became Pope. His leadership in the papal palace was described as a combination of frat party and seedy brothel. He also was not celibate and is rumored to have died in bed with a married woman. Benedict IX held the papacy three times. He fled from Rome the first time due to his violent behavior. The second time he sold the papacy to his godfather who became Pope Gregory VI. The final time the German armies drove him out of Rome. Pope Benedict XVI, the predecessor to Pope Francis, was criticized for mishandling sexual abuse cases (that’s putting it mildly) and for discouraging the use of condoms even during the AIDS epidemic. He wanted to keep the church as conservative as possible and supported masses returning to Latin. Let me tell ya, nothing warms the heart like sitting through a mass where you have no idea what anyone is saying. I sat through many of those as a child…even the sermon was in Latin. That’s a snoozer.

My closest friends when I was 18 were Catholic and occasionally, we’d go to a mass together. When the priest was blessing the eucharist, he made the sign of the cross, and said, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti” meaning “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Well, my friends, joking, would imitate him and say, “My father plays dominos better than yours does.” You have to say it in the same tone and sing it like a priest does. Anyway, we thought it was funny. I guess it was a bit rude. Ahhh, teenagers. You can see why an 18-year-old should not be Pope…they can’t be trusted to behave appropriately.

Pope Francis remarkably said he was a sinner. Infallible people are not sinners. By definition they can’t be. The Oxford dictionary defines infallible as, “Incapable of making mistakes or being wrong, unerring, perfect, unfailing.” Wow. That’s quite a proclamation. It’d be hard to remain humble with infallibility attached to your name. I’m sure it was easy to be led astray with so much power. If I were Pope (impossible for many reasons) then my wife could not accuse me of always wanting to be right…because I would in fact always be right. Hmmm…. That would definitely go to my head. I’m not infallible, I’m just a Morrison…my relatives get that.

Pope Francis was a man who knew what love demanded. Just look at how he lived and how he Poped…Poped?…that can’t be right…oh well. He said that we must get our hearts to feel again. Love is not indifferent. Love demands feeling. All the feelings all the time, even though it can be exhausting. Indifference is easy. It’s lazy. It takes no effort to be indifferent. No effort to not give a crap about others. No effort to never give others a thought. Love is not full of our egos. Love is egoless. Love demands feeling, even when it’s hard. Even when we don’t want to. Love does not allow us to close our eyes to injustices around us. Love is not passive. Love is active. Love takes a stand. Our President surrounds himself with billionaires. They are his focus. The Pope, the most powerful religious leader in the world, surrounded himself with ordinary people. People with real needs, real pain, real heartache. He met them with real love. And he welcomed the children. Always children. Children know how to love with abandon…I think Pope Francis may have too.

The people’s Pope. That’s what he was called. And he liked the title. He liked it because he loved the people. Cory Booker said recently that “You can’t lead the people if you don’t love the people.” The Pope loved the people…all the people. Not just people with money or power. All the regular people. And he lived a simpler life than other popes. Simple living accommodations. Simplified clothing. Less pomp and circumstance. And his burial will be the same. He won’t be buried at the Vatican, rather at a smaller church outside of the Vatican. Maybe he needed less attention. Less affirmation from the outside because he knew he was on the inside.

Francis said he was not here to judge. We are not to judge. I did not agree with Pope Francis on gay marriage…you probably knew that since I have a wife. But I did agree with his acceptance of people and in not judging them. I have been judged and condemned by the Catholic Church because of my marriage. A little not judging could go a long way in this country…in this world. Especially now.

I’ve heard the experts say that the next Pope will be more conservative. An attempt to quiet the critics who felt that this Pope went to far. Was he too loving? Too accepting? Too forgiving? Pope Francis will surely be missed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was authentic. A man who knew what love demanded of him. Who knew that in the end all that matters is how we love people. Judge that.

What Love Demands

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

When I think about love and celebrations of love, weddings top the list. My wife and I got married 13 years ago, after dating for 3 years. 11-11-11. We planned our ceremony carefully. This was before gay marriage was legal and we wanted our ceremony to be meaningful…not just for us but for all the attendees. If it’s always been a given that you can marry who you want to, I’m not sure you understand what it’s like when you can’t. I didn’t think I’d see gay marriage legalized in my lifetime…but it was and even on my birthday. Our wedding was a chance to show people that our marriage would be much like theirs. We just wanted to be recognized as a legal union, a legal family, with all the rights and responsibilities associated with it.

I heard P!nk say, in an award speech, that she couldn’t believe that people were spending money to ban love. She said she didn’t want there to be gay marriage, she wanted happy marriage and lasting marriage. That makes sense to me. Pretty simple. Work at your relationship. Grow your relationship. Commit to your relationship. Stay in your relationship…although I realize that is not always a safe or reasonable possibility…but when it is, stay.

Relationships can be hard. I think generally they are hard…or have difficult periods of time. They are hard because you’re bringing two separate people under one roof to live together and share a life. There’s a lot of negotiating and compromising that has to occur on a daily basis. My wife has spent the last two and a half years traveling back and forth between Florida and Colorado for work. She retired at the end of November and is now in Florida permanently. No more 8,10, or 12 week separations. It’s such a relief. But, for all practical purposes, we’ve lived separately for 30 months. That took a toll on us and our relationship. We have had to learn to live together again. To be a partners again. To be us. We had two and a half years of getting comfortable living on our own and doing things our own way. Rebuilding and growing takes effort and work. Love demands effort.

I just read a book by Martin Luther King, Jr. called Where Do We Go From Here. There’s a section where he talks about how he had chosen love because hate was too big of a burden to bear. One of my favorite quotes of Buddha is, “Hate cannot dispel hate. Only love can dispel hate. This is the law ancient and inexhaustible.” I believe that is true. I think we can see in our own country the hate that is building more hate on a daily basis. It feels dangerous to me.

Love takes effort. Hate does not. Hate is easy. It is easy and cowardly. Instead of learning about what we may not understand, we hate. Hate takes zero effort. Hate creates more hate. That got me wondering, besides effort, what else does love demand? If I declare that I love you, what does that love demand of me? What does it demand in loving my wife? What about my family? My neighbors? My enemies? My country? The earth? Now I’m not asking what any specific person demands of me but rather what does the word, the concept, the emotion, the practice of love demand. That’s the question I’m thinking about. That’s the question that confronts all of us.

Now this would be a great place for me to tell you the answer…but I don’t have one. Not a complete one anyway. Love is a verb. Love is active not passive. It’s not a place to fall, it’s something we actively create. All religions talk about love, about the work of love because love demands effort. Jesus said that we are to love our enemies and to treat others like we want to be treated. In the Dhammapada, Buddha said to consider others as ourself. He said, “Hatreds do not ever cease in this world by hating, but by love….Overcome anger by love, over come evil by good. Overcome the miser by giving, overcome the liar by truth.” The Hebrew Bible says that we should love others as we love ourselves. Muhammad said that the ideal marriage bears the fruits of love, mercy, and tranquility. I think those qualities apply to all relationships. Hinduism says that love is unconditional, selfless, and without expectation of anything in return. I could keep going but it seems pretty clear that all religions speak about the necessity and importance of love.

Love is critical to healthy relationships and to our mental health. Love can heal us. Hate can destroy us. Hate is easy but it’s also toxic. Toxic to myself and anyone in the line of fire. Hate is the easy path. It’s easy to find a scapegoat to blame for any issue you can think of. Any grievance…real or imagined. Anything we don’t like. It’s always easy to blame someone else. Blame them for my lack of love. I gave X and you failed to give Y in return so I’m done with you. I have Z and you want a piece of it so I’ll remind you how unworthy you are and the hate begins to grow. If I love you, what’s in it for me? We’re transactional in our love, not unconditional. I am loving when it benefits me. If I can’t get what I want from you I leave, and if I wanted it enough, I’ll hate you for it. Hate is so fucking easy…and there are so many opportunities to hate. And sometimes I really want to…but it’s too big a burden.

Maybe love demands its own existence…understanding how crucial it is for our survival…for our own tranquility…our own sanity. Love takes effort. Love demands honesty.

Love demands that we not take things personally. Our ego takes things personally…mine definitely does. It assumes that everything happening around us is happening to us, because of us. Our ego demands we see ourselves as the center of everyone’s universe. We think that whatever is said to us or done to use is because of us. It’s personal. If we can get out from behind our ego’s perspective, we can see that what other people do is about them, not us. I am not the center of anyone’s universe…so sad. 😏 People make decisions for themselves, about themselves, and thinking of themselves. I am not saying that we aren’t able to think about others when we make a decision. Of course we can and we do…sometimes.

I heard this quote from Don Miguel Ruiz Jr., and he said that I am responsible for what I say but I am not responsible for what you hear. We have our own histories, perspectives, wounds, and agreements. Our history shapes who we are and the beliefs we have about other people and the world. Our perspective is our own point of view. And we all have stories we tell ourselves and those stories are shaped by agreements we’ve made. We were all taught what to believe and when we go along with it, that becomes an agreement we have made with ourselves. The agreements that we incorporate into our lives shape everything we do and believe.

We made the agreements, essentially contracts with ourselves about our beliefs. We made them and we can break them. We can make a new choice. I think love demands wise choices…evolving choices. Love takes effort. Love requires honesty. Love demands that we not take things personally. Love demands a bigger view…one without me at the center.

Maybe love demands love…demands love from me. Love toward myself and toward others. Those who are easy to love and those that are difficult…even those who seem impossible. Maybe love demands a wish. May we all be filled with all the love our hearts can hold. And may we freely give our love out of our abundance. Because in the end, all that matters is how we love people. So let’s love deeply and generously.

Don’t Assume Because…Well, You Know

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

So, here’s the thing about going to therapy and trying to work through the crapola of your life…you find out shit that’s hard to swallow. I’m a bigot…maybe not exactly a bigot, which Merriam- Webster defines as, “An irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics; an adverse opinion or leaning formed without just grounds or before sufficient knowledge, a preconceived judgment or opinion.” Currently, I’m not sure my attitudes are irrational or that my opinions are formed without sufficient knowledge…but then that’s my own perspective.

I see myself as an open minded and accepting person, but that’s not all of me. I make assumptions about people based on my assessment of them, especially politically. I look at you and draw conclusions based on what you look like, where you live, what you do for a living, and what I think about all that…what it means to me. These decisions lately seem to be political…political assumptions. I do have an abundance of preconceived judgments and opinions.  And in case you’re wondering, I am always positive that I am correct. I take my assumptions to be fact…I’m not so proud of that. The political climate in this country is scary right now, and there is no shortage of actions to make assumptions about…it’s been a busy three weeks for the president…horrifying might be a better word for the chaos that has ensued. 

When I write a blog, in the back of my mind, I wonder how it will be received. And I make assumptions. Assumptions about who you are by how you react or respond…or how you don’t. When I write about being gay or about LGBTQ+ equality I assume that if you’re a republican you won’t like it. You won’t read it. Or if you do read it, your response will be hateful and mean, cruel even. I wrote about assigning genders and suggested the use of the pronouns they/them for everyone…so that no one is misgendered. It was not well received…forget “well” received…it wasn’t received at all. Almost no one read it…or they didn’t admit it if they did. With my keen insight I concluded that people didn’t like it because they’re republicans or more specifically Trump republicans. I used the wealth of information at my disposal, which was none, to come to this logical conclusion…I thought it was logical…to me it was logical. I think that qualifies as bigotry.

Sometimes people surprise you and what you’ve assumed is not true. And it’s possible I didn’t really have anything to base my opinion on except my own biases. I assumed that because you did “this,” it automatically meant that you thought “that.” If you voted for Trump then you would agree with him that there are two genders, no matter what anyone tells you about their personal experience or what the medical community is saying. I’d go even further to conclude that you hate LGBTQ+ people because you believe it’s a sin to love someone of the same sex. And maybe you have forgotten that our country was founded on religious liberty. Escaping the Church of England so you could believe or not believe as you see fit. I might determine that you have no heart because you don’t believe in the aid programs that help people survive in this country and in countries around the world. Who takes away aide knowing that children will starve? I consider that inhuman. Not caring about the basic needs of human beings, especially children. That’s a hard one to justify, especially when it’s less than 1% of the national budget. 

We all know that making assumptions isn’t a good idea…because when you assume you make an ass out of u and me…remember that little ditty? When we assume what we do is stop receiving and absorbing new information. I think X, and you look like X and talk like X so you are X, even though you tell me you’re Z. But I think I know better. That’s some arrogance there…thinking I know you better than you know yourself. Of course there are exceptions to everything. When we remain locked into our assumptions we stop learning. We think we know everything, when we may in fact know nothing.

The other night I was watching tv with my wife and I got up to use the bathroom and get some water. When I was in the kitchen my wife asked what I was doing. I told her “Getting water” and she said, “I thought you were going to the bathroom.” I replied that I already went, and she said, “No you didn’t.” I told her, “You can disagree with me on almost anything, but not whether I went to the bathroom.” I know my bodily functions better than you do. In this country people argue about gay and trans folks…is it ok to be gay? What about being trans? They don’t understand it. They don’t get being gay or trans or bi. And my immediate, compassionate response is, who the fuck cares! It’s not about you. Other people are the experts on themselves. They don’t need outside critiques from the strangers…or even from people who know them. Life is hard enough on its own without us pitting ourselves against each other. What good will come of that?

People who are not gay or trans like to inform us that being trans isn’t real and neither is being gay. I had a therapist tell me that I was not a lesbian I was just looking for my mother’s love. Now I can promise you that what I want and need with a woman is not what I wanted or needed from my mom. I’m not confused. I’m gay. Trans people aren’t confused. They are clear on their identity. We know who we are. And in case you’re thinking “we just have to agree to disagree,” nope. You can disagree with me about my political views, my spiritual views, my belief that bulldogs are the best dogs, or the Dallas Cowboys. You do not get to disagree with who I am. There’s no agree to disagree on that. You do not get a vote, or an opinion, about my identity. 

Hate is ruling our country right now. No one is even trying to hide the hostility in their use of words and actions. Martin Luther King, Jr. said that he chose to love because hate was too great of a burden. We underestimate the burden of hate…the power of that word. Words have meaning. Words have power. Those are prophetic words for us now in this moment. And we should all be reacting as if our hair is on fire…because it is! Our nation is being systematically destroyed. It’s time to speak up before the world ends…at least the world as we know it.

I have grave concerns about our country right now. Our world as we know it seems to be ending and it’s terrifying. Unfortunately, our country is set to repeat all the atrocities of the past. And yet I know that hate is not the answer. It might be an easy answer…us against them…but it’s not the best answer. It never will be.

We are all encountering the burden of hate and we have decisions to make. Decisions about who we want to be as individuals and as a nation. Do we want to be consumed by hate or do we want to fight for a higher principle? A higher morality than hate? Are we willing to let go of the burden of hate and choose love? I am not talking about sentimental warm fuzzy feelings. I am speaking about a love that demands action. Love that demands we release the burden of hate. A love that demands that we find a path forward that includes everyone…not just billionaires and their white supremacist cohort.  

All these folks running the government now claim to be Christians…just one of the many reasons why I am not one. They claim to love the bible so let’s try this, “Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly.” Can we try that? There isn’t much to add to that except, love generously and fiercely. And don’t stop trying to find me here, or trying to find each other, even with all the chaos. Now is not the time to give up on love. Live each day so that you can say, I did not give up on love today. I won’t give up on love today, even when it’s tempting. Don’t you give up either. 

And always remember that in the end all that matter is how we love people. Love will win. It always does.

Three Things

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Now here it is, already 2025…20 days in and I am still not ready. The year went so fast and so many things did not go how I planned…I hate it when that happens…and so I have been dragging my ass into 2025, a little bit kicking and screaming. My resistance reminds me of a quote I read, from someone, that said, “I never let go of anything that didn’t have claw marks on it.” That is an exact description of me…written by someone who does not even know me. If you read my blogs, you are nodding your head right now because you know. You know it’s true. If you don’t follow me, see what you’re missing? Also, it’s time to start…Now! Please.

One of the things that did not turn out the way I planned was the presidential election. I was ready for a President Harris. I feel like I am living in backwards world, where being a dishonest, arrogant, hateful, convicted felon paves the way for you to become President and being an honest, compassionate, and intelligent woman gets you nowhere. So, as the inauguration is taking place, I am reminded of 3 things I did immediately after the results of the election:

I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer.

I bought all my grandchildren, (ages 11 to 20) a copy of the US Constitution and told them to read it. I instructed them to learn what their rights are because they may not have them much longer.

Finally, I told my son and his fiancé to get married now. They want to have a big, beautiful wedding and that is a celebration I am eager to be a part of. Planning that takes time…and I’m not sure how much time there is after January 20th. I suggested they get the marriage license now and get legally married while they still can. The supporters of Project 2025, with the cooperation of the Supreme Court, aim to reverse marriage equality. To which I’ve been known to say, “Just try and get my marriage license from me.” I don’t think you can un-marry people or nullify marriages…not legally anyway. But that may not matter. Clarence Thomas has already said that marriage equality needs to be “revisited” by the high court. There is an Idaho case working its way to the Supreme Court right now that seeks to redefine marriage as between one man and one woman. That is happening as I write.

Of my many grandchildren, one said she would keep the constitution in her purse, and one sat down and started reading it…I don’t play favorites but come on, he sat down and started reading immediately. I am a proud grandmother.

Most importantly, my son and his now husband got legally married on December 29th! I am so happy for them and so relieved. I’m not sure if straight people can understand how important it is to be legally married. If getting married was a given for you, I guess you might take it for granted. But if you have been denied that right, it is huge…HUGE! To be recognized as a married person…no special rights, just equality. It is something I did not think I would see in my lifetime. To have your marriage vows honored for their importance in your life and in our society. Being a family…legally a family. That is important shit right there. That is a right I fought for and that is a right I will continue to fight for. Maybe the President will find out that someone in his life, that he loves, is gay and he will reconsider. Or maybe he will grow a heart…him, the Tin Man and the Grinch. Maybe he will learn some kindness and equity. Maybe he will grow to see beyond dollar signs and what benefits him and his cohort of billionaires. Maybe, maybe, maybe…unlikely, I fear.

So where am I going with all of this? I wish I knew. I am tired, frustrated, and terrified. The future seems more unknown than normal…and more out of control. So, what to do, besides meditate, pray, volunteer, give money, educate myself and others, and hope. It seems like conditions are ripe in this country for hate, violence, domination, and fascism to run rampant over the rights of the non-elite. Even President Biden warned of a growing oligarchy right here at home…just like other autocracies. Fuck.

We all know the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In some ways this is killing me…killing all of us…our collective spirits for sure. What I have always believed about this country and the rights guaranteed to us in our constitution has been completely blow the fuck up. And although they, the new autocracy, may not see it now, this will destroy their supporters as well. I fear we are all headed over a cliff, many voluntarily, and most leaving claw marks as they try to resist…as I try to resist. This is a proper place for claw marks. You cannot destroy other people and be unaffected. You cannot create bigotry, fear, and hatred and remain undamaged…or untwisted. And there are some fucking twisted people running things now.

Although I do believe that difficult circumstances can make us stronger, I prefer to believe that what doesn’t kill us makes us kinder…or it can make us kinder. We must cooperate to become kinder…we have to learn from our circumstances and allow ourselves to seek kindness as a character trait. I must understand, we must understand, that what we do affects other people and the choices others make impact us too. We do not live or move or act in a bubble. Our actions have consequences. Our inaction has consequences as well.

I have been re-reading The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. In the book he discusses the term “domestication” which seems particularly relevant right now. From birth we are taught what to believe and how to act. We are rewarded for “good” behavior and punished for “bad.”  We learn to seek rewards and fear punishment. We learn our lessons and bury our own opinions or beliefs. We are afraid of the consequences of disagreeing or forging our own path. And so, tamed and trained we become compliant. Silent and compliant.

If ever there was ever a time in our history not to blindly follow, comply or agree, it is surely today. Today is the day to wake up. Wake up to the new form of domestication we are experiencing in subtle and not so subtle ways. The push to doubt what we see with our own eyes. To accept lies as the truth, “alternative facts” right? To hate anyone who is not like “us.” “Us” being white, wealthy, heterosexual, Christian, republican, and if you are male, all the better.

As I have said before I am trying to live “off the edge.” The edge being a chronic, low-level anxiety that seems to be my neutral…waiting for the next catastrophic or traumatizing event to occur. Today is not the day to lose my feel for the edge. For me, our nation is on the edge. The edge of what exactly I’m not sure…although it does not feel like anything good.

The best I have to offer myself or anyone else today is to take a deep breath. Breathe deeply and feel yourself grounded wherever you are. In this one moment, in that one breath, I am okay. For one breath you are okay. That is all we have, one breath at a time…for the next 4 years. We must wake up and remain awake even when other forces strengthen their attempts at domestication. No one gets to decide what I believe. They may have when I was younger but not now. I am who I am. I believe what I know to be true…what I see with my own eyes and what I hear with my own ears, what I investigate, study, and learn. Guided by my spirituality and the golden rule.

I cannot come off the edge today, or even in the near future, but I can remain attentive and aware of what is happening…in me, around me, and in the world. I can be aware and engaged. I can continue to breathe and be engaged…even when it’s hard…even when it sucks. That is all I have for now…breathe, stay grounded, stay engaged, and most importantly, allow this world to make me kinder…to make us kinder. Even when it seems impossible. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Choose love…every time. Love will win. It always does. And be kind…please. Now more than ever.

Off The Edge

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

It took me a long time to recognize this low-level anxiety that lives inside me. I feel like I am always on edge. Always expecting the next bad thing…the next person to hurt me or leave me without explanation. The next person to blow up at me, blame me, or take their anger out on me. The next crisis I need to be ready for. Being mentally and physically on edge contributes to me being on edge emotionally. All the time. It is exhausting.

I have been trying to create a way to mourn the loss of my mother. I am not sure how to do that when I feel angry at her. I’m hurt that she was so mean to me. I don’t know if I miss her because I haven’t been able to get past the other feelings. I feel guilty because I am relieved not to deal with her explosive outburst anymore. I don’t miss her hanging up on me multiple times a day. The years I spent away from her I wondered why she didn’t try to work things out with me or love me enough to fight for me. The years I lived with her in Florida, I understood that she hated me. That’s what she told me. That’s how she acted. She didn’t fight for me because she didn’t want me.

Now she’s gone and I am not sure what to do with all of that. I need to find a place where I can accept the situation as it was and accept her as she was…flaws, bitterness, cruelty and all. She wasn’t one thing. She wasn’t just mean. She wasn’t just angry. She wasn’t just cruel. She could be kind. She could be generous. She could be loving.

I am not one thing either. I am not just a person on edge. I am not just someone with anxiety. I can be kind. I can be generous. I can be loving. I’m a mix of all those things and more. Just like her. Sara Bareilles has a song called, “She Used to Be Mine” and she talks about this…sings about it. This song could be about me…or my mom. I’m not perfect but I try. I’m hard on myself and struggle with asking for help. I’m messy and I’m kind. I’m all those things smooshed together to make me.

The song goes on to talk about things coming into our lives that we don’t ask for and they shape us into who we are today…even if it’s not what we asked for…or not who we expected to be. I want to be willing to take risks. To be hurt but not destroyed. I want to be tough enough that when I get bruised, I can use that to grow stronger and more sure of myself. And when I feel stuck, for example now, I can rekindle a fire inside of myself to keep moving forward toward the person I am and the person I am meant to be.

I have been trying to create a ritual for myself to let her go. To let the experiences I had with her go. And to let the things she said to me go. I have felt heavy under the weight of her thoughts and feelings about me. I recently wrote about changing my name from Karen to Kai. Needing to move away from Karen because that’s the name she yelled at me and the name of the person she hated. This week I decided to change my name legally. The new name felt like a game of make believe. And I’m not playing a game. I’m creating the path to reclaim myself as myself…not who she said I was. I’m not trying to disown her or my family. I am taking steps to own myself and my identity. That’s mine to create, not hers to impose.

I had not planned to change my name legally. I surprised myself. I filled out the paperwork and I filed the petition. It’ll take a few months for the change to be ordered. I may have to attend a hearing to tell a Judge why I want to change my name. I’m not sure it’s really anyone else’s business why…of course that will not be my answer if the Judge asks. An attitude will get me thrown in jail…this is Florida after all. There was a ton of paperwork to fill out and get notarized before I could file the petition. I guess they’re making sure I’m not changing my name because I am on the run from law enforcement. I’m not. I promise.

I was not sure how I would feel after I filed the paperwork. I felt relief. I felt like a giant chain that weighed me down, with other people’s opinions fell away. I was standing up for myself. I felt like I was claiming my own identity without the input of my mom. This is me regardless of what she thinks or what she might have said. She would have been angry about the change. She would have taken it as a rejection of her. It is not about her at all. It is about me…claiming my own power and not allowing anyone else to tell me who I am or how I should be myself. The change is because of me not her. This is who I am. This is who I continue to become.

The acceptance I want to find for myself, I want to find for her too. I do not think my mom’s life turned out how she imagined, and she was bitter. I had no control over that. I did not ruin her life, regardless of what she thought. I loved my mom. We had a challenging relationship. In the end I was working to change it…make it better. That didn’t happen but it doesn’t mean I didn’t love her or that I didn’t try.

Loving is hard. I try my best, but I am not always great at it. I hope my love can be a solid ground for someone else. I always say that in the end all that matters is how we love people. So regardless of what happens I move forward and remind myself that I did not give up on love today.

Do not give up on love today. Never give up on love. Love always wins.

Still Broken

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Well, it has been a week…not even a week yet. Fuck. My wife asked me how I was doing on Wednesday or Thursday, and I said I felt overwhelmed. She asked me why, as in specific reasons, not questioning my emotions. I said, “I don’t know…the end of our democracy.” And that silenced us both.

Since then, my fears have just multiplied. You may ask, “Why?” I will lay it out for you:

*Putin, seeing the election results, said that a “new world order is forming.”

*The plan for mass deportation of undocumented migrants in this country regardless of circumstances or the devastating impact on the economy.

*A federal judge striking down Biden’s program for undocumented spouses, as illegal. The program designed to keep families together.

*The undoing of the constitutional right to reproductive healthcare, including the right to an abortion.

*The blatant plan to reverse marriage equality.

*Texts sent to Black Americans telling them they have “been selected to pick cotton” at a nearby plantation. These texts went out to adults, as well as, college and high school students. And these texts were not just in Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana the states considered the deep south…were I guess people expect such racism, seriously? They were sent in New York, California, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Wisconsin, and Michigan. And that is not the entire list. What is happening?

*The rise of fear, anger, and hate, and a growing attitude of us vs them. The use of those emotions as weapons to pit us against each other…even when what we are hearing is not true.

*The supreme court granting the president almost complete unchecked power. The branches of government designed to act as the checks and balances of presidential power no longer function that way.

*The President Elect already preparing pardons for the January 6Th rioters who attempted to overthrow our government and disrupt the peaceful transition of power. People died that day. 174 police officers were injured. One was killed.

*Elon Musk promised a cabinet position where he will cut the federal budget by 3 trillion dollars. And they have told us that people will suffer.

*RFK Jr. will oversee the Department of Health…and specifically women’s health. There is nothing that makes less sense than a man appointed to make the rules or guidelines for women’s health. He is an unapologetic anti-vaccination and conspiracy theorist…which could lead to the return of illnesses that previously were eradicated by vaccines.

*Referring to anyone who disagrees with the administration as the “enemy within” and the threat of using the armed forces against citizens of this country.

*And the last thing I am going to mention (and I could go on), the President Elect plans to destroy the Department of Justice and fire all career prosecutors, to remake the justice system in his image and use it against his enemies…that would be anyone who disagrees with him.

I feel like I am living in The Hunger Games…only this is no game. I love movies, but I do not want to live in them. They are fantasy and not real…except when the leader of our country wants to make it real. The elite having all the privilege, access, and opportunity and everyone else existing to meet their needs and keep them happy. And to entertain them…fooling themselves into thinking that the game you are entering is a privilege rather than an atrocity. But in the end, it took 3 books, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, prevails…but a lot of shit goes down before that can happen.

Back in 2020 I wrote a blog called, “Broken.” At the time I was feeling devastated because of Covid and the tremendous loss of life and the murder of George Floyd. I am sharing the link here (http://karenraines.com/2020/06/03/broken/) because I am still broken. We are broken. Our country is broken. It is easy now to feel like everything is out of our control and there is nothing we can do, but that is not true. This week I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer. It’s a small step but it’s a step. We all must make ourselves keep moving forward.

Here’s the thing, I always write about love. Love as a guiding principle in my life. The need for love in our treatment of other people. Seeing people who may not be the same as us through a lens of love. Love conquers hate. Love is bigger than any person’s bigotry. Love produces more love. When we act with love for ourselves, our communities, our country, our world, our actions become compassionate, filled with kindness, and a desire to connect, not separate. We come to care for one another and want the best for each other…regardless of the color of your skin, what pronouns you use, who you love, where you’re from, or what language you speak. We see and share our common humanity. In the end, what matters is how we love people. We have some serious work to do.

Love is powerful and healing. We need some healing…some big fucking healing. Is that going to happen right now? I hope so but I think we are in for a rough road ahead. While fear, anger, and hate are in the oval office love will appear to be losing…but it will not lose.

Love has been on my mind all week and I’ve been confused on how to proceed. I do not feel loving right now. I am scared and angry. So, I turned to some teachers to find comfort and direction. Buddha said, “In this world hate never yet dispelled hate. Only love dispels hate. This is the law, ancient and inexhaustible.” And St. Francis had a beautiful prayer that can help us move in a positive direction. “Make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury pardon; Where there is doubt, faith….that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; To be understood, as to understand; To be loved as to love.”

Now there are some marching orders. But I am not marching right now. I am staggering. We are staggering. I still feel a deep sense of shock and loss. We need to feel all the feelings and not rush ourselves to get over it. Take time. Time to care for yourself and those around you. Think about ways to get involved and stay involved. Imagine a world where equality is the norm, and everyone has the same opportunities. Imagine no racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, elitism…all the isms and phobias eliminated. Picture that world. Create a picture in your mind or on a vision board. Look at in several times a day. Make it the first image of your morning and last image you see at night. Look at it and believe in the possibility…the possibility of real change. Let that image guide you to the next best step for you…for us. Remember, in the end all that matters is how we love people…especially when it’s hard. Love always wins. Let’s win together.

Hurricane Milton…Or A Tiny Little Rose?

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

While my parents were alive and living with my wife and I, we occasionally talked about their deaths and their last wishes. Neither of them wanted any kind of service or memorial. No wake. No funeral. No casket. They wanted to be cremated. I asked them what they wanted done with their ashes. My dad said, “Just throw them away.” And my mom, as only she could, said, “Just throw them on the ground and walk all over me like everyone has my whole life.” So, I told them both “I’m not doing that” and suggested that we put them in the Gulf. They agreed or gave me their version of “whatever.” I was happy to take that as a yes.

When my sister came for a visit, the topic came up again. That must be super annoying for people in their 80’s and 90’s, everyone always bringing up your death and pushing you to plan for it. I was thinking my plan is to avoid it as long as possible…as if it is up to me. My sister said that we could send the ashes to Switzerland and have them made into blue diamonds. And why you may wonder? So, we could have a crown and put the blue diamonds in it. And then as each person dies another stone gets added to the crown. I said, “Who’s gonna wear all the dead relatives on their head?” I don’t remember her response. Mine was, “It’s sure as shit isn’t gonna be me.” Then she said we could have them compressed and made into frisbees and send them flying out into the Gulf. I’ve got to admit that one sounded fun…probably only because I wouldn’t be one of the frisbees. We had some good laughs with my parents over both of those ideas. I know you can find all kinds of stuff on the internet but who searches for what to do with someone’s ashes…besides my sister, I’m not sure. My sister is super funny and a great storyteller…she had both covered here.

In the end, of course, it was up to us. We decided that Kathy, Rick (sister and brother-in-law), Gayle and I would go out on a boat together and spread their ashes into the Gulf of Mexico. We found a place in Dunedin that has daily boat trips called “Burial at Sea” that are specifically designed for spreading ashes. I guess “burial at sea” is hard to remember because my brother-in-law referred to it as “the death boat.” Naturally that’s the name that stuck.

Of course, as soon as we had a simple plan our adult children chimed in and wanted a seat on the boat…they were their grandparents after all. And since they all have children, all the great grandkids would be here too. So, we arranged for the death boat October 14th at 1:00. Fortunately, it’s a big boat because we went from 4 people to about 20. We finalized plans for places to stay and food for a meal together after the death boat. And then there was Milton.

One of the reasons we picked Clearwater for retirement is because Tampa hasn’t been hit by a major hurricane in 100 years…and we’re about 15 minutes from Tampa. Now Milton was threatening to end that streak. WTF?! Hurricane Helene had just devastated the big bend area of Florida. We waited and hoped that Milton would decide to go somewhere else. Although, you can’t really hope that the hurricane hits someone else. I was hoping it would just evaporate…. that would have been the most convenient outcome. Clearly, I missed my calling as a scientist.

If you saw any news at all you are aware that Milton did not just go away. It became a category 5 hurricane. It did shift south and so Tampa, and Clearwater were spared a direct hit, but it was crazy. We were on the outer edge of the eye of the hurricane. We didn’t get raindrops, not even big ones. We had walls of water falling…wall after wall of rain for hours. All the while, the wind raged. We had wind speeds up to 129 mph. Milton was a category 3 storm when it hit the Florida gulf coast.

I had panicked calls and texts from family and friends worried for my safety. My wife wanted me to go to Atlanta. It was not that simple. First, I was not under an evacuation order. More importantly, I had less than a quarter tank of gas. “90 miles,” said my car. Now I’m not good with geography but even I know you cannot get to Atlanta with 90 miles worth of gas. And in case you’re thinking, “Why would she not have filled the tank sooner?” “Poor planning.” That’s a little judgy of you. I did not fill my tank because there was no gas…as in none, nada, zip, zero. I went to numerous gas stations, and they all had the little yellow bags on the pumps, like they do when they’re broken, with the addition of plastic wrap. All the pumps were prepared for Milton…and all the gas was gone. That was Tuesday. I couldn’t get gas until Monday. By that time my car was finding a gas station for me.

That was the beginning of Milton. The serious warnings began Monday. They were amped up on Tuesday and included evacuation orders for zones A, B, C, and all mobile homes. We live in zone D. The airports closed Tuesday morning. Everything else closed Tuesday afternoon. So, the death boat plans were quickly sinking. We didn’t even know if the boat place would still exist on Sunday. Our outing seemed incredibly unlikely…even more so after the airport closed, and all the flights were cancelled. I’m pretty good at recognizing the obvious. No ashes were leaving my house that weekend.

When I was talking to my wife, during the hurricane, and sending her videos, I told her that I thought my mom was fucking with the weather. She said, “Your mom has no control over the weather.” I told her I wasn’t so sure. The next day I was talking to my sister, and she mentioned that Rick thought my mom was causing the hurricane because she doesn’t want to be in the water. My mother was afraid of water her whole life. I wonder why she agreed to a burial at sea. I’ll never know. I was texting my nephew, to give him an update on the death boat and Milton. He told me that he wondered if maybe Roro (that’s what all the grandkids called her) brought the hurricane. And finally, I was talking to my daughter, and she told me she thought the same thing. I don’t know if my mom can influence the weather, but me and the family believe she can and she did.

So, there will be no burial at sea. Florida can’t take another round of the “wrath of Rose.” We have an alternative plan. Their ashes will be spread in New York somewhere my parents loved. They spent a lot of time at my sisters. They’d visit for 3 or 4 weeks at a time. That’s where their final resting place should be. They were happy there, surrounded by the love of their grandkids and great grandkids…and of course Kathy and Rick.

I hope in the spring my side of the family can travel to New York and give my parents their final resting place…at last. A lot of love and planning went into our decisions for my parent’s ashes. I hope they could feel that. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. And they were loved…still are.