Red Room Where the Writers Are

boxing gloves.jpeg

As someone who has built a life and a profession around fighting, it feels odd to say "I quit".  Don't get me wrong. I'm not quitting life. Quite the opposite. 

Having over identified with the persona of an activist and a fighter, I have fallen prey to the all-too-common notion that if I'm not in a fight, I'm not alive.  Unfortunately what I have learned these past couple years in a chemo experience is that if I'm  in perpetual 'fight or flight' mode, I won't be alive for long and consequently, of no use to anyone.

Does that mean I no longer care about systemic and institutional racism? Not at all. Does that mean I still won't write, make films or speak about the disparities in health care, education and criminal justice? Absolutely not. 

What it does mean is that I can no longer afford to be enemy focused. The notion that there is an enemy 'out there' which requires constructing walls and moats in order to prevent injury is a myth--and a dangerous one at that.  When engaged in battle the old way the metal armor creates the illusion that the antagonist is outside of me and about to pounce at any moment when actually the real threat exists within myself. And almost always in the form of being right.

Usually when I am 'being right', my body is on high alert and I can almost hear the warning call from the old TV series "Danger, Danger, Will Robinson"! The adrenaline is screaming and in a way, so am I.  

For those who lament that maybe I have officially 'gone soft' on crime.  In a way I have. No more diatribes.  No more guest appearances on talks shows where the object of the game is to out-shout someone. No more spitting out righteous sound-bites to prove another wrong. Not because I'm not passionate or don't care but for two simple reasons:  

The first and most important is that my body simply will not allow it.  And number two, if ever I have shifted someone's thinking or changed someone's heart, it wasn't because I yelled at them or pummeled them in a debate.  

Contrary to youthful arrogance and a sense of self importance which convinced me that my mission--should I choose to accept it--is to destroy the enemy--ignorance and self interest--by any means necessary, it turns out there is another truth. 

The real truth is that my body is the boss and engaging in ideological warfare or political assault missions regardless of how noble, is off the table.

So what will I do? Right now something I've done far too little of. Listening.

Since my body is the sage and CEO of this enterprise, I'm simply taking notes.  And after taking it up with the board, I'm sure I will be instructed as to the next move.  And who knows, it might even involve boxing gloves (hopefully cute pink ones). Regardless, I know my body is 'right'.