The big money is still with the devil who stole it.

We can’t wait for her to be slayed.

Just say the word reparation and people shrink back. The whole cover up is wound round the spine; entwined with sense memory and storyline. People don’t know their own nerve system or ancestral memory. People don’t know they have ancestral memory, until you talk about cooking clam chowder. Then it’s in our bones, in our blood.

But, tightening the noose is not recalled.

Some say God is all seeing. Nature sure is. Every gesture is recorded in cosmos; nothing is missed. The truth of who did what why when is all present.

My own family history is a mixed bag, marked by streaks of malevolence. Shock treatment, incest, the works. It’s insidious amongst the rich. What I inherited in cash I gave up at 19 and still channel money away. I’m no saint; that’s not what saints do. It’s souls’ fodder, to give.

People get all wound up on what’s earned and what’s not. What use is that to a newborn? His mother, Earth, keeps giving. No matter what virtue or crime is accounted, life wants no part. Life is the tree on a rock face.

Even if you drive a man into ground with hard labor, his efforts can’t bring up the sun. We don’t know what it takes to make us alive, nor keep us.

To empty my purse in the purse of another who benefits someone else yet has endless reward. Putting out is the most protective action I know.

It’s the same old Buddha / Christ / LeVar Burton teaching. Share the best of what you have. Love books? Bring them alive for a child. Have bread? Break it. Know peace? Exude that.

Make friends so real they are family.

You can say that’s not justice; the bad guys should pay. Maybe, oh maybe, they will. But who can hold out for reckoning or bank on exorcism of the 1%? When I think about who’s been fighting the fight for how long, I don’t really feel like send more babes to war.

Imagine all the people. And then imagine the Black and Brown people are suddenly set up for life. Imagine that right now, for a moment, and then be damn sure you’re not one of the ones clutching a purse crossing streets holding breath. Do the literal absolute opposite. I agree with Dr. King’s warning against the moderate white liberal. What’s not enough is to mean well. What’s not enough is to vote and lament your hero losing the race.

If you think a nobleman could fix America, you abdicate a whole lot of personal power. Reparation means ‘pay for repair’. We would all benefit. We’d regain ourselves and each other. The white ones can’t say I’m sorry, I’m with you. I’m sorry, again, we don’t have the money. We do have some of the money. We do have some of the power. What if a little self-sacrifice unlocks the whole thing? Isn’t that worth a real try?

Find a way to spend yourself into the world. Pay to turn the wheel of fortune. Cast off ‘what’s mine is mine’. Release your children from that fate. Let the Great Mystery do its thing and surprise you.

Don’t worry too much on where to send your life savings. Think only that you’re going to do it. Be wide eyed and wonder — what great beauty can I be part of by sharing. Look the way you looked for what you wanted to be when you grew up.

I dare you to do this.

If ever was a time, it’s now here, to share what shelter you have.