“I wanted to talk to you in person.” The sand is warm under my feet, still holding the heat of the day as the sky begins to darken, a few bright stars twinkle into view, and the sun offers its final salute.
“I’m listening,” Merl says, his feet also bare, as we walk along the shoreline. Our dogs romp around us, chasing each other, catching each other, wrestling and barking. Growling and pinning. Playing at violence.
Merl and I met on a beach in Mexico what feels like several lifetimes ago. He trained me in the salt and sand, in the crash of waves and the heat of the tropical sun. Merl didn’t just train my body. He taught me resilience of mind. How to reorder my thoughts so that I didn’t hate myself…at least not so much that I wanted to end myself.
“I want to change the world,” I say, the words coming out slowly, carefully, and cheesy as fuck.
Merl’s lips broaden into a warm smile. “I think you’re doing that.”
“Yes and no.” I pause, letting the thoughts I’ve been churning since that night on the sailboat find their way to the surface. “You know the essay by Audre Lorde, ‘You Can’t Dismantle the Master’s House with the Master’s Tools’.”
“Not well, tell me what it means to you.”
I huff a small laugh at his response. This guy. “I told Mulberry and Robert I planned to burn it all down.”
“Meaning?”
“Society.” I can’t help the half smile that tugs at my lips. “The world.”
“That’s one way to change it,” Merl says, teasing in his voice.
“The thing about Lorde’s essay is it is filled with anger—righteous anger.”
“Your favorite kind.”
“Don’t act like you know me.”
We both laugh. Waves lap at the shore. Silence falls between us and we walk on, the dogs circling, kicking up sand, tongues lolling out—their joy in the here-and-now infectious. My heart lifts and my hand finds its way to my stomach, my awareness shifting for the thousandth time that day to the life growing inside of me.
“Injustice is forged in fire,” I say. “Hammered in heat, and driven by fear. In order to stop it, we must use different tools. A flame will not burn this down. But it will burn,” I promise, my voice low and quiet but true.
Merl doesn’t speak; his steps remain steady, pacing with mine. His gaze is on the sand a few feet in front of him, his hands linked behind his back, long dark curls loose around his sculpted shoulders.
“My motto has been: take no shit and give no fucks,” I continue.
Merl breathes out a laugh. “That does sum it up eloquently.”
“And it hasn’t worked out totally awesome…”
Merl laughs again. “You want to change your ways, Sydney?”
“I want to change the world, Merl.”
He stops and I get a few steps before realizing he’s not following. I turn back to him. “Sydney, have you figured it out?”
“What?”
His smile is broad and joyful. “That to change the world you have to change yourself.”
I snort because…um…yeah. No. “Merl,” I roll my eyes. “I want to burn down society—”
Merl steps forward and my words cut off at the expression on his face. The light in his eyes burns with purpose. “Sydney, all these years, all the work you’ve done. Don’t you see that you have changed? Dramatically.”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I’m getting older and I’ve learned stuff…you taught me a lot. Now I do my tai chi practice because I like it rather than because you make me.” I smile up at him. His own returning smile is gentle and knowing and somehow annoying. Like he has secret insight into me that I don’t get to share. “What?” I ask, pressure building in my chest and heating my cheeks.
“As long as I’ve known you, Sydney, you’ve denied your power. Pretended like you were just some angry little girl acting impulsively for her own pleasure.”
“I am that,” I mutter, not quite ready for whatever he is going to say next, but I don’t turn and walk away. Shit, maybe I have grown. Damn Merl, such a freaking know-it-all.
“You are impulsive and rash.”
“Those two words mean the same thing and neither is particularly nice,” I point out.
Merl huffs a laugh, his eyes still holding mine—rich chocolate brown framed by long black lashes. “You’re finally getting that you are powerful beyond your physical body. That you can inspire others…and indeed change the world.”
My lips purse as if I’ve tasted something sour and my feet turn to keep walking, not comfortable with his assessment. Merl laughs as he walks next to me. “I see you’re not quite there yet.”
“I am not some…I don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“A natural born leader.”
“Right, I’m not that.”
“Really?” Merl laughs loudly. “You’re on the leadership council of a large international vigilante network, Sydney, named after you and inspired by your example.”
“First of all, I am not a fan of the name and you know that. Second, the thing I do like about Joyful Justice is we are not the leaders. We are the facilitators. People come to us. We don’t go looking for problems to solve. And we don’t solve the problems either. We just do what we can to help people solve their own problems. I’m not a savior, Merl, and I don’t want to be one.”
“No.” Merl’s grin stays in place. “You’re not a savior. I’ll grant you that. But you have saved a person a time or two…”
“Shut up. I’ve done what anyone would do.” Merl belly laughs at that one, he laughs so hard that he stops walking again and actually puts his hands on his knees. “Maybe I should think about becoming a comic,” I mutter.
Frank races over and circles Merl once before licking his face. Chula thunders down the beach and slams into Frank, the two of them rolling away in a chaos of black and white fur and sand. “Sorry,” Merl holds up a hand as if to keep me at bay. “You’re just so…”
“Don’t bother finishing that sentence.” I turn away and continue down the beach. Nila races over to me, her tongue out and excitement lighting her gaze. Her wet nose swipes at my fingers, checking on me. “I’m fine.” I smile down at her. “You go play.” She waits another beat but when Michael barks at her she turns, churning up sand, and races down the beach toward where he stands in the waves. Michael turns and sprints away. Nila gives chase.
Blue, ever a steady presence, moves next to my left thigh, and I reach out a hand to rest it on his head. Merl catches up with me, wiping at tears on his face.
“I’m so happy you find me and my plans for destroying society so amusing.”
“If, as you say, you’re no leader, what skill will you use to convince society to implode?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…”
“Ah,” he sighs. “I feel like Dan would be better at this game. Wouldn’t Robert Maxim, a destroyer of some note, have some insights as well?”
“Yes,” I agree. “But, you…care.”
Merl cocks his head in that way of his—reminding me of one of his dogs. All his attention is focused on the misunderstood element.
“Dan,” I start to explain. “He is brilliant but his mind…he can be a little cold.” I shake my head. “That’s the wrong word. He could definitely help figure out how to burn it down. But I’m afraid that he wouldn’t necessarily care about all the costs.”
“At least not the same ones you’d care about,” Merl says. “But I know what you mean. His obsessiveness grants him power but also makes him blind.”
“Exactly. And Robert Maxim is basically a…”
“Sociopath.”
I shrug. “Maybe,” I grant him, but a part of me shies away from that label. I want to believe he has real feelings…
We walk on in silence for a few moments. The surf rushes over the sand, sucking it back into the sea in a symphony of sound that relaxes my shoulders. “I want you to help me,” I say. “Figure out how to make the world better, on a larger scale. I want to stop just putting out fires.”
“Instead you want to light one big one?” Merl asks.
“Yes.” My voice is so low it’s almost swallowed up in the noise of the ocean, but Merl nods as if he’s heard me.
“I think this circles back around to you.” I roll my eyes and Merl laughs. “Look,” he smiles. “All the ancient scriptures teach us that change comes from within.”
“Meditating more isn’t going to accomplish what I’m hoping for here…”
“Nothing will, Sydney.”
My gut tightens. “I didn’t expect that from you,” I say.
“Didn’t expect a reality check, are you sure? Isn’t that why you came to me?” I don’t answer and Merl continues. “The reason you didn’t ask Robert or Dan is because you knew their solutions would lead to hurting a lot of people. And that’s because you can’t create huge shifts without damage. You’re talking about a massive earthquake, a volcanic eruption, a complete reordering. That’s not something that everyone walks away from unscathed.”
“I know,” I mutter. “But Merl, everything is just so fucked up.”
He laughs again, it sounds light and easy—as if I’m not talking about the horror show that is humanity’s house.
“Sydney, the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
“Martin Luther King, Jr. also said that a riot was the language of the unheard.”
“But he certainly did not advocate for them.”
“No,” I agree. “And where are we now? Closer to an equitable world…maybe a little. But it’s hard to say.”
Merl stops and looks out to the ocean. I follow his gaze. The island is surrounded by a reef so the swells are gentle on the shore, but in the distance white froth sprays toward the sky as it hits the barrier. “I understand your urge to do more than we’ve done,” Merl says.
“What do you think about Rida’s method?” I ask, wincing slightly. My own contribution to the madness she spawned—the creation of a new religion based on the ramblings of my brain damaged hallucinations—feels like a fresh stab wound, not yet painful but rather a surprising bright white heat that every instinct in me shies away from.
“I think she believed deeply in her cause.”
“She lied,” I say, not even sure anymore if what she did could be considered a lie. She believed I was a messenger from God. She believed her story… “She didn’t get a message from God,” I say, my voice edged with anger. There is no such thing! Frustration moves my feet again and I continue down the beach.
Merl jogs a few steps to catch up. “How do you know?”
I scoff. “Merl.” My tone is warning. Don’t pretend like you believe in messages from God.
“Rida is hardly the first person to think the divine spoke to her.”
“You’re right, lots of people have hallucinations.” I laugh. “Mine are more of the thunderstorm variety, but hey, who am I to judge other people’s visions?” I throw up my hands.
“I know you’ve always had issues with organized religion,” Merl says. “And I understand your grievances. Religious belief has spawned some of the worst atrocities in human history.”
“Most of them,” I argue. “More often than not, when humans do something horrendous to each other on a large scale, religion is involved. From Biblical times to 9/11 and beyond.”
“When humans are involved, so will be their beliefs. We cannot be separated from the stories we tell ourselves. Whether that’s about the nature of our reality, our existence, or our society. Rida was trying to tell a new story. And it seems like she did a pretty amazing job…”
“But you don’t believe her story, do you?”
“I believe women should have as much of a say in society as men. That patriarchy is bad for all of us and needs to be dismantled.”
“Her method, though, it…my…” I fall silent, trying to find why I have such prejudice against Rida’s movement. “It’s manipulation.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not empowering if you think affirmation comes from outside yourself.” I stumble through my thoughts trying to piece them together. “Can’t women just be worthy without a deity proclaiming it? Can’t it just be true? Why do we always have to look outside ourselves for affirmation?”
Merl doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is on the sand as we continue to walk. “I won’t point out how you’ve just made my point for me,” he says.
“Isn’t not pointing it out the same as pointing it out in this situation?” I grumble, seeing his very annoying point that change begins from within.
“It’s adjacent,” he says with a smile. “In Buddhism,” he continues, changing the subject, “there is no deity outside of ourselves.”
“There also isn’t any excuse for violence, right?”
Merl shakes his head. “No, humans can always find an excuse for violence.” I laugh and it comes out hollow. Merl smiles over at me. “The Buddhists invented kung fu, after all. The Shaolin monks’ training turns them into powerful warriors—both physically and mentally.”
“Right,” I say. “But isn’t one of the tenets nonviolence?”
“Yes,” Merl agrees. “But self-defense has always been allowed.”
“Allowed by who?” I question. “If there is no deity outside yourself, then who is allowing you to commit violence to defend yourself?”
“I guess it’s just a choice.” Merl smiles over at me.
The day has gone pink with dusk and the light makes everything gauzy and beautiful. It’s easy to stand here in this remote paradise and talk about violence. It’s easy to be separate from all that pain and suffering—to judge it from afar.
But when we are in the midst of turmoil, in the darkest depths of grief, infused with pain, there is no perspective. Violence so often calls out to us as the only option, the only answer.
And from this cotton candy beach it’s easy to judge a religion that preaches nonviolence yet develops fighting systems. “Merl,” I say, sounding tired and beaten. “What can we do?”
Merl shakes his head. “I don’t know, Sydney.” His smile seems to know something, though.
I knock my shoulder into his. “Come on. You always have the answers.”
He laughs. “I know lots of things. But how to completely reorder society, sorry, I don’t have the playbook for that.” He pauses for a moment and then continues. “Sometimes I wonder why we ever started growing our own food.”
“What?” I ask, confused. “The island is isolated, Merl, it just makes sense.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean us, as in Joyful Justice on this island. I meant humans. Why did we decide to start cultivating food, stop being nomadic. Why did we give up the hunter-gatherer lifestyle?”
“Oh…isn’t it easier?” I let out a short laugh. “The amount I know about the hunter-gatherer lifestyle and how we evolved into modern humans is…well…basically zero. But I know Rida believed that is when the subjugation of women began…I imagine it was a slippery slope. Not just that one morning women lost their voice.”
Merl nods. “So maybe it will be a slippery climb to get it back.”
Or maybe we just burn down the mountain…