Bones of Thanksgiving

I've got a bone to pick.

On Thanksgiving, my thoughts are with the Indigenous of the Americas.  I think of reservations on barren land, systemic poverty, and rampant racism.  Many folks in the U.S., especially white folks, love to romanticize an idea of an Indigenous person who shared food with shivering pilgrims.  There's nowhere near enough education about the genocide of the Indigenous and the current conditions for survivors.

I think of Leonard Peltier, a Lakota political prisoner, who has spent the majority of his life incarcerated, despite a multitude of evidence that points towards innocence.

I think of the mass slaughter of turkeys and the larger meat industry.  Apart from the unbearable brutality towards animals, this industry is among the most environmentally devastating.

You totally want to invite me to your Thanksgiving, right?

Yeah, I know.  Activists are often accused of being kill joys.  Get it.  Duly noted.  And I also understand that for many, Thanksgiving is a moment of warmth with family.  It's tradition in an often culturally-starved, or consumption-diluted U.S.  We need ritual.  We need culture.  Yes, yes.

Here's my bone: what is it that makes us uncomfortable in sitting with both tradition and reality?

In yoga, we constantly increase our capacity.  We find more room in our body for strength and flexibility.  We find space in our mind for greater awareness.  I wonder if we aren't capable of the same in these moments where our desire for tradition knocks up against inconvenient truths.  Can we have the capacity to hold space, and maybe even supportive action, with Indigenous people and causes?  Can we love our families, our time with them, and not suppress these larger realities?

I hope so.  Granted, I'm not generally so sentimental.  I'm not the nostalgic in my household (that title goes unequivocally to Kevin).  Holidays don't twinkle in my eye.  I think I might draw a bit closer to that flame if I felt light was being equally shed to the whole.

Let's illuminate.