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My Whiteness

Here is a concept I never thought I’ll talk about.


I am olive. My mom is from Iraq and my da from Libya. Some of the Iraqi people are white and so is my mom, but my dad is dark and looks like a native American chief. We are called Spanish Jews.

Who cares, right? I don’t.


Here are some of my memories:

India, Africa, Europe, China, America, south America, Japan, and middle east.

I have been yellow, black, white, red, olive and mocha.

I remember past lives from all those places. Some very vivid memories and some just pictures frozen in time (done and done:).

I bet you can see where I am going with this…

There are very few new, completely new souls on this planet. Our history?

Ah.


I had a very cool history teacher in 9th and 10th grade. I remember hearing him talk about the second world war, and in my head, something refused to listen. Things didn’t click. You see, I was born half-baked and was already accumulating energy to awaken from history.

Somehow, people refuse to wake up from history. And when you look at it:

we all killed.

We all acted out of survival,

fear,

anger,

shame,

being the mean machine.

We invented god to maybe remember ourselves. We were slaved and enslaved each other. War was one big rampage of rape.

What’s in the lower dimensions? And why? That’s a different story that stands all by itself.

Now,

Because people are refusing to awaken from history, there’s a feeling of dragging. We want Justice.

Justice of what? Of whom?


Just because you don’t remember or don’t know that you are arabic or black or native doesn’t change the fact that you probably are.


Why do you think the stories of the bible are so potent? There were not that many bodies, so the souls were huge.

In the Kabala, they say that Adam lived 930 years instead of a 1000 to leave 70 years of his identical soul for David’s life.


Today, a black person could have been white, and probably was, in another life time.

There is a fight. To catch the killer, the abuser. But all we are doing is playing out our own inventions trying to grow out of it. And “it” is usually hurt, some kind of trauma, an imprint that needs to be looked at and healed.



Maybe it is time for everybody to wake up to truth… maybe it is time to remember the choices we have taken before coming into the great drama to participate.

Choose brotherhood.

Not because you forgive what have been done to you, but because there is nothing to forgive.

We can only elevate ourselves from the hurt.


The system is made up from you and me. The more laws we create the more restricted our movement becomes.


Compassion goes a long way.

Choose well my multi color sisters and brothers.


To be continued

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