The very idea of healing and growth points are repulsive to many, who, for whatever reason, are unable to do the work that healing requires of them. Much of what one finds online is a kind of vacuous, textureless, vapid chatter with no animating or vitalizing spirit behind it. People who eschew Augustinian self reflection and soul searching, who've yet to bet and battle with their own Pascalian wagers. It can seem, at times, as if the ratio is heavily titled towards those who prefer to perform the simulacrum of soul over the range of deeper vulnerabilities that we each carry.

But never you mind that. Do not feed other people's emptiness. It is because they are not doing the work that they feed off of yours. Sometimes seeing someone else be vulnerable and open about their human process is repugnant to those who are not yet equipped to digest their own life's core. Our focus on their lack of soul only lends to them things that they have not earned. We cannot resuscitate anyone who is dedicated to withholding the breath of life, of sincerity, of charity. 

And theirs is a work that cannot last. It is not what people will remember a thousand years hence: the crafting of viral insults, cruel and cheap memes, cruelty bonding, bullying, making light of what is heavy, and acting as if when one has yet to truly and sincerely give themselves to this life with everything that is in one to give. What will last is the work that we do with the little time we are given to do it, a deep vulnerability owned and shared, a tending to, that requires of us a stronger will to dig than to be deterred by the emptiness of all that is around us. 

There has always been this will to not know. And it is not what we remember of the past. No. We remember Augustine, Pascal, mere names for the digging process. And so too, the future will remember the ones dedicated to healing and transformation and self reflection. Do not let the fact that it is the loudest and crudest and cruelest who inevitably take up the most space convince you that your deeper work is somehow for naught. It is the only work there is.

And when people can't do that work, they resent those who can. Deflective humor and chatter becomes a way to cope with an inability to bear the weight and scars of the self. They degenerate because it is the only option for them at the moment. This is not to say they will never get there. And though it can be exhausting and humiliating sometimes to watch such vapidness on display, when we feed into it, it only makes it stronger. Because they do not have the will or desire to do the work, they must borrow from us, by nibbling at the edges of our vulnerability. That kind of thing comes from a place of pain. How painful, to not be able to be real or sincere. To need to build community around the very ethos that broke us: high school cliques and water fountain gossip and party invites that purposefully leave out those who are just doing their work. 

Twitter is a place where people go to not grow. It is an anti-growing tool. And yet, there is a softness that is willed and tended to there, also. That softer side is not meant to be large. Growth has to be dosed out. We cannot take too much of ourselves. We nibble at the edges of our wounds, we try to digest what we can. It is humbling work. Low to the ground, ear to the track. And then the train that delights in steamrolling. But never you mind that. 

Just do the good that you are able, and try your very best not to feed other people's emptiness. Know that it cannot last or matter in the end. Authenticity, inner digging, vulnerability, has never been well received in its time. Only after the fact. We can't take too much of it. And so, while it may seem like the most immature, selfish and inauthentic people in any community are the one's who get ahead, you must remember that they are really only ever just standing in place. Growth is movement. And it's hard. Extremely hard. It makes sense that people would prefer to make fun of those who are trying to grow. When we can't do something we tend to want to undo something. To tear a thing or person or process down. And yes, communities can often grow and bond around such empty pastimes. Because it will always be easier to joke and meme and gossip and strike out and go viral then it will be to self reflect and to grow and push back against these anti-growth tendencies. 

Just remember, that isn't about you. It's all about them. That's their stuff. You are here to grow. They, for now, are here to show, demean and downplay the fierce gentleness that is required of us on our collective journey towards that "something deeper" than defines us and calls out to us.

There is work to be done. But it isn't found in the emptiness. It is in the fullness of our dug-deep souls that we find what it is we came here for. And to this work we must keep low to the ground, holding our hearts out when it makes sense to, protecting them when we must, but never pretending to be anything less than vulnerable and open to the never-ending work at hand. 
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To heal is to be real, and to be real takes time. 
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“A community that is growing rich and seeks only to defend its goods and its reputation is dying. It has ceased to grow in love." ― Jean Vanier


In an interview with the late Genesis P-Orridge, they said so eloquently that humanity is but one organism. If one part of the human organism is hungry, the other parts work to pass food down to the starving parts, if another part is sick, the other parts carry down medicine. It's a belief I strongly share with Genesis. More than any other vision of community, Gen's was one that always made the most sense to me. Why would we ever think we were as singular as all that. Surely, I cannot do or go alone.

I have always thought language to be that vessel of crossing towards our healing homes. What is language if not a blanket thrown over chaos, disorder, meaninglessness? Give words to your pain, indeed. But such words we built together. It seems to me a strange sort of community built around words (all communities are!) but somehow forgetting to pass along what is missing and needed in the other.

For so long people gathered at kitchen tables to tell each other stories. It was the thread that held together the past and the now. But it was also the presence of bodies, warm laughter, a shoulder to cry on. Communes carry the memory of this also: to be with each other is to be for and through each other. 

Today, so much of community gets defined by the most superficial of ties. Contests, lists, ranking, popularity, dopamine hits, but without the intimacy that makes community responsive and responsible to each other, the organism suffers a chronic soul fatigue. 

A body in pain is what languages reaches out to. We are not here for ourselves. Alone, we know nothing. But together, we know everything by the sensibilities that tell us what part is being left out, what part is in need. 

What is community? "A neighbor is not he whom I find in my path, but rather he in whose path I place myself, he whom I approach and actively seek.”― Gustavo Gutiérrez

Yes, but how seek out a thing of which we are already are? The way we are for each other is the measure of soul in our approach. When we come to the end of whatever this life is, the only thing that will have mattered is how much of everything we carried down the line for the parts [of us] each other, that needed it most. 

Step into what you already are. Do for others the good that only you can do. There is a kind of special work we are called for, language demands it. Let a poem be a kitchen table again. Listen for the laughter. Be for each other, as if there were but one, and all of it: us. 
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All too often we assume that there's nothing wrong, or inherently harmful, in not interfering in matters that don't directly involve us. We may even consider it healthy to abstain from doing so. In recovery, after all, we're taught that it's better to keep the focus on ourselves, rather than taking other people's inventory. 

Of course there other reasons. If speaking out or intervening would cause unwanted attention or fallout, we'd likely rather just avoid it all together. 

When it comes to online bullying, however, I believe that there is a clear moral obligation we have to defuse the situation, most especially if the person being bullied struggles with mental illness. Although I would argue that even a person without mental illness is at risk for potential self harm when being bullied, no matter their age, it is especially urgent that when people with mental illness are being bullied, we intervene to diffuse the situation and make sure the person being bullied is ok. 

Our silence is not innocent, it causes real potential harm. It allows a situation to build and build, and the further isolated the person being targeted becomes, the more likely the situation is to possibly take a tragic turn. 

In my 6 + years as an editor in the poetry community I have watched, time and again, as a group of very vocal and toxic editors and poets, have engaged in highly unethical and violent mob attacks on often vulnerable individuals who have a history of mental health issues, and my first and only concern has always been for the safety of that individual, irregardless of what their offense may have been. I've made it a point to reach out privately to people who are being bullied online to make sure they are ok and so they know they are not alone. I do this because I myself have been a victim of online bullying within the poetry community that almost tragically ended in suicide, and I don't ever want anyone to feel so alone that they might actually end up leaving this one and only sweet world. 

And here's why that's not enough. Because our public silence only allows this problem to perpetuate itself ad infinitum, and eventually it becomes the norm. Would we sit and do nothing to try and help someone if we saw them in immediate danger in daily life? Many do, but we do not consider this the best of our humanity. We're not talking grand heroism here, we're only talking about saying when something is wrong, directly, to the one's doing the wrong. We're talking about making good faith efforts to diffuse and problem solve a situation before it gets out of hand. 

But that's not at all what I have witnessed in my time as an editor in the literary community. I've witnessed people not just not intervene when they should, but send very mixed messages about their own ethical priorities by actively supporting the abusive members in our community and, most egregiously, passively and actively participating in the group shunning of vulnerable individuals. 

I don't know what it will take for people to be brave and true, but I am exhausted trying to speak to this in the wilderness. My soul is sick and heavy. I have talked with and accompanied people as they were being mentally and emotionally lit on fire by internet mobs, and you know what they say that stays with me most is how alone they feel. And I know exactly what they mean. In fact I ended up not only close to taking my own life when I was being bullied 2 years ago, but also close to relapsing, and that's another huge risk for recovering addicts' who are bullied within our community. As I recently watched a newly recovering addict being bullied online my first prayer was that they not relapse, my second, that they not die. 

I am tired of this. I am tired of good people doing nothing. Good people sending mixed messages about their ethical priorities. What do you value? Human life? Mental Health? Recovery? Safety? Human dignity? 

My main goal has always been to just try very hard to do the good work I can. To reach out when I can. Offer advice when I can. But most of all, to say when something is wrong, even if it might cost me something to do so. People need to begin prioritizing the safety of others before prioritizing the opportunity to be published in a literary journal run by ruthless bullies. 

I almost did not survive what I went through. That should never need to be said by anyone in our community. But I am not geared towards defeat or self pity. This isn't about me, it's about service. I learned it in early recovery: carry the message to the still suffering. You don't ask if someone is deserving of that carrying, you just carry. And if you don't, you are pushing a precious someone down so low that they might not ever get back up again.

I will not be silent. I will not prioritize anyone's comfort over speaking up for victims of bullying. And publishing my poems means absolutely nothing to me if it means not carrying others. Carrying is what we do because to not carry is to crush, is to harm. Are you helping, or are you hurting? 

So long as I can provide safe space as the editor of a publication that prioritizes healing, generosity, kindness, repair and recovery, I will continue to do just that. But my career as a poet, I must admit, is over. I'm not interested in publishing poems while people are being beat down every day by people whose voices only get louder and meaner and smaller by way of the soul. There's no place for me in that anymore. My work is in community, in the garden, the tending of wounds, the carrying of messages of hope and care and hospitality, which is always offered to the one whose name and story you cannot know beforehand. That's the risk and nature of the gift. But what you do know is that that knock heard on your door in the dead of night is a query for empathy, for understanding, for a drink of water, a safe place to come in from out of the storm. My God, we only get this one life, why must we insist on getting so much of it so very wrong. 

Break the cycle. Be brave. Be true. Unmix your messages, open up your heart, be a warrior for peace and resolution, not a warrior of viral retweets and emotional sharp shooting. Health isn't remaining silent when you see forests of wrong burning all around you, it's rushing in and pulling out those who are on fire. It's bringing water to the burning, a human who is so all alone in it. 

Silence is harm. Sound the alarm. Let's do this good work. Because carrying each other is our only 'why.' The only thing worth a goddamn is what you did when no one else around you would. Water the wood, diffuse the fire, bring solutions to the table and plenty of chairs. Circle up, say it true but say it kind. Everything else is a waste of our time. 

Speak to it. Speak to it. Just speak. 
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