A series of essays.....
~MICHAEL CAVNA TELLS US THAT HEATHER'S FAVORITE COLOR WAS VIOLET~ A SIMPLE NOTE THAT OFFERS A PRIVATE LOOK INTO THE LIFE OF HEATHER HEYER |
.....as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
I've noticed that each time I connect with my Facebook Timeline and scroll down
reading everything I can, an interesting thing happens that I have absolutely no
control over. You may have experienced this, as well.
At first, I am concentrating so diligently on each post
that I'm oblivious to it. Then the broiling inner emotions make me feel
physically ill and I can feel my facial expressions taking on an unusual
life of their own. It takes me a while to even begin to understand what's going on. But, when
I do, I can feel my face twisting and contorting, my lips begin to pucker and purse,
and my eyes crinkle and squint as my forehead wrinkles like the loose skin of a
wrinkly Pug puppy.
~WRINKLY PUG PUPPY~ |
This, as I understand it, is not acting; this is
reacting. I am responding, frame by frame, to the content and extent of the information that has been presented to me and in such a way that my acknowledgement of
this information adopts its own style. My emotions are captured, dare I say,
possessed, by the most egregious and flagrant violations of human rights and
decency that our country has recently experienced. If you don't count the early
morning hours of November, 9, 2016, that is.
Heather Heyer.
As if I were watching an M. Night Shyamalan movie, the
Indian American film director known for making movies with contemporary
supernatural plots and surprise endings, firmly entrenched within my own set of
fear and fascination, I become impervious to my surroundings. My attention is
focused on the next move on the screen, a black shadow flickering in the upper
left-hand corner, the dark, dense feeling in the pit of my stomach, and (once
again) my facial expressions as my brain takes in the multiple nuances
chronicled in each scene. A pronounced squint becomes my preferred mask-like
face for the next hour and a half.
This is, precisely, my reaction to the posts on Facebook
from the past several days! If truth be told, within the past year or more.
How does it begin? Will it ever end or, at least, be
contained enough to not be as blatantly and brazenly splashed before our eyes
like acidic liquid the deep, crimson color of blood? Hatred...unrestrained by a sense of shame; rudely bold, and
justified by many while they tout the uniform (white polo shirts and khaki
pants) and carry a burning torch in the day or night.
HER BEAUTIFUL FACE.....! |
Hate is a word we teach our children not to use. Hate is
an emotion that, if allowed to control us, has the power to turn us inside out
as if our internal organs were exposed and we begin to associate the natural
beauty and goodness of our world as a 'punch in the gut.' Hatemongers
misinterpret the love of family and friends as reprehensible behavior and
disassociate themselves from them with the need for a more tangible cause; one
that justifies the sense of power bursting forth like molten lava from deep
within their darkening souls.
Heather Heyer.
While under the influence of hate, they seek other
haters because hate in large quantities helps to substantiate their cause. While
strengthening their beliefs and affording themselves more power and more intense reasons to
hate, the haters find safety in numbers; justified by the comfort of an
administration that clings to them as life supports within a churning sea of
dissolution and destruction of the 'law of the land' as we know it.
Even writing about hate right now has gotten to me and I
feel my face contorting into 'facial yoga' expressions that I usually reserve
for driving alone in the car, protected by the thought that what happens in the
car stays in the car. Silly me. Vestiges of 'The Scream' painted by Edvard Munch
begin to dissolve before me as I, too, feel a whiff of melancholy while sitting here
thinking about his accompanying poem, "I remained behind - Shivering with
Anxiety - and feeling the infinite Scream in Nature." Edvard Munch
'THE SCREAM' "FEELING THE INFINITE SCREAM IN NATURE" |
Heather Heyer could be my own daughter, my friend, the
girl next door. For each of her thirty-two years on this earth, I thank her that
many times over and over for holding the goodness in life to a higher standard
than the sadness of hatred and strife. For this alone, Heather is a hero. Little
did she know that she would be making the ultimate sacrifice for all that she
believed in and held so dear to her heart by
giving her own life towards the justification of equality and compassion.
giving her own life towards the justification of equality and compassion.
As I type her name again, Heather Heyer, not wishing to
forget it...ever, I am becoming more conscious of my emotions. The inevitable
tears are welling up, rising to the surface, ready to flow. My facial
expressions soften, become more relaxed this time, and my breathing is deeper, more
sustained.
Repeating her name, Heather Heyer, out loud is calming.
Her kindness, sweetness, and caring for others is like an invisible salve
spreading across the earth; angel wings floating above the weak and the
wretched, the loving and kind spirited, alike. I don't know what Heather's voice
sounds like and, I, more than likely, never will. But, I do know this for
certain...when we close our eyes and feel the love, experience the hope, and
hear the voice of comfort, we will know it is Heather's and she is telling us
not to worry, it's going to be okay!
Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved