Category Archives: Miranda Writes

I will not be filled with hate.

I will not be filled with hate.

I can feel it hurtling towards me, heated by the fire of your tiki torches, trumpeted by the chanting of your racist slogans, engraved in the photographs of your snarling faces.

It ravages; fueled by the husks of dark history built into this country’s foundation, a wildfire sparked by the wheels of Ares’ chariot. Its restless desire to engulf everyone in its path a feeble attempt to burn out loneliness and fear.

But I will not be your comrade-in-arms. This is my life, my body, my heart, and yes this is my country and I will not be filled with your hate.

Let your aggression fuel my kindness.
Let your blindness open my eyes.
Let your fear of change feed my fear of repeating my ancestors mistakes.
Let your covered ears expose where I am still deaf.
Let every time you put someone down remind me to push someone up.
Let every person you leave behind drive me to further open my embrace.
Let your every act of hatred inspire in me an act of kindness.

I can feel the heat of your hate licking at my heart, enticing me to succumb. Its fire burns bright and fierce and hot, destroying everything in its path. But I will not let your hate destroy my heart. I will not be filled with hate.

The warmth of compassion is gentler and harder to hear, but it is a fire that gives life instead of taking it. It is a Hearth that will stand strong once you have burned everything around you to the ground.

Let your hate fuel my compassion and then let it pass me by.


A poem for Heather D Heyer, “who was killed by a terrorist in Charlottesville, Virginia as she protested Neo-Nazism and white supremacy.”

And for Heather’s mother who said, “I don’t want her death to be a focus for more hatred, I want her death to be a rallying cry for justice and equality and fairness and compassion.”


 

Daring to Write Your Own Story

I write to explain myself to myself. To take the things that have happened to me, especially ones where I have felt disempowered, and tell them as if I had planned for everything to happen. As if living through a divorce, which left me distrustful of anyone’s ability to commitment, was something that needed toContinue Reading

Crafting the Hearth Narrative

Crafting the Hearth Narrative

When we were kids, my older sister organized the books in her room in a personalized Dewey Decimal system. Three and a half years younger, my job was to cut all the bits of masking tape to go on the bottom of the book spine so that she could write the appropriate numbers on them.Continue Reading

Learning how to dance again

Learning how to dance again

It wasn’t until quite recently that I began thinking of myself as a Dancer. Labels like this take a lot of confidence to claim. I’ve finally found that Artist fits me, as does Painter. Potter, in the past sense. Musician, sometimes. Writer, sometimes. I’ve been trained, at least a little, in all of the above. Dance, onContinue Reading

Community: An Inconvenience

Community: An Inconvenience

In the past two weekends, I have been reminded exactly why I spend so many of my waking hours organizing events, posting on social media, worrying about whether anyone is going to show up at said events, and obsessing over the best ways of facilitating authentic communication between the people who show up. It’s notContinue Reading

The Privilege of Choice

I was eight years old the day the towers fell. The one memory I hold from that day is when my mum told us what had happened. She picked me up from my classroom, where the teachers had kept the news to themselves, and we had just gone to get my older sister. It was a beautifulContinue Reading

A Year in the Arena

A Year in the Arena

I’m not a very private person. I attempt to live my life in such a way that it’s a story worth telling and I deeply enjoying sharing that story, almost as much as I enjoy hearing the stories of the people around me. Or, better yet, creating one together. This year, my friends, we’ve taken that toContinue Reading

On Responding to Tragedy

On Responding to Tragedy

-written by Hearth Founder, Miranda Aisling It’s been over a week now since the tragedy in Orlando and I’ve been struggling with how to respond as an individual, an artist, and a community organizer. There is, of course, the grief and the fear and the anger that such a horrific thing has yet again occurredContinue Reading

On Grieving and Grandparents

On Grieving and Grandparents

Over the past three and a half years, the three biological grandparents that I’ve had any sort of relationship have died.  These have been my first real experiences with death, apart from pets and distant relatives.  Through these experiences, I have begun to push back against what we’re taught about grieving, that it is a sadContinue Reading

Why the Best Way to Give is to Ask

  I am ashamed of asking for help. Every time I do, I experience a base, physical reaction that tightens my throat, speeds up my heart, and calcifies the air in my lungs. I’ve spent my life making myself as independent and self-sufficient as possible to avoid this exact feeling. But now, as I throw myselfContinue Reading