After 10 years of not stepping through the doors of Hell, I walked back into a Walmart.
It was a return to origins, similar to when I return to eating meat from my years of veganism.
In 2006 I watched a striking documentary called “China Blue”. I was exposed to the realities of cheap labor, capitalism, and horrid overseas factories. The young protagonists, after slipping a tiny note for help in the pockets of jeans she just manufactured, she hopes that somebody in America will find those jeans, and her note, and maybe help her.
I chose never to step into Walmart again.
I find myself 10 years later, returning to this place of regular people, of hunger and hopes and the embodiment of a cracked American Dream.
I have been wondering about the connection of entrepreneurship, capitalism and indigenous ways. Wondering if they are reconciliable.
And as I re-enter the smiley-faced store, I remember Martin Prechtel’s words about trying to be pure in a world that has long forgotten its relationship with the sacredness with everything alive.
Everything. Thing. Is. Alive.
Just as in veganism, where I was trying to exclude myself from killing life and be a superior white-light peaceful being [and not realizing that plants, rocks, rivers, etc are alive too and there is no escaping killing and eating I order to live–I.e. life feeds on Life] I was trying to extricate myself from the cycle of injustice and exploitation. “Too late” said Martin.
It’s too late to wiggle out of the slavery paradigm.
Realize that you are a slave owner to everything you own, to pieces of furniture that weren’t asked permission to be taken from their mothers and ecological families and be put together.
Remember? Everything is alive.
So as I walked through the Walmart isles with deep grief in my throat and tightness in my chest, I did what every other shopper who is building their lives for cheap, unaware that other poor folks across the world are feeling the impact of our choices, and that the ecological relations of our animal and plant people are impacted too, i chose to take part to the modern tirade, and spend my dollars to feed and clothe myself, remembering each item bought…has a place and origins that are forgotten, and maybe, just maybe I can feel a little bit of gratitude and a whole lotta grief, and feed these beings back with words of appreciation and some remembrance of where they came from.
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