#Truth--Healing--Reconciliation

[harmonyhealinghub]

Honouring Truth and Reconciliation Day: Remembering the Importance of Orange Shirt Day

Shaina Tranquilino

September 30, 2023

In recent years, there has been a growing recognition of the importance of truth and reconciliation in acknowledging and healing the wounds caused by historical injustices. Canada's Truth and Reconciliation Day, recognized on September 30th annually, serves as a crucial reminder that understanding our past is essential for building a more inclusive and harmonious future. In conjunction with this day, Orange Shirt Day stands as a poignant symbol of remembrance and reflection concerning the devastating impacts of residential schools. This blog post aims to shed light on both events' significance and highlight why they deserve our attention.

1. Understanding Truth and Reconciliation:

Truth and Reconciliation Day holds immense value as it acknowledges the painful history experienced by Indigenous peoples in Canada due to colonization policies such as the Indian Residential Schools system. The objective is not only to remember but also to foster an environment where dialogue, empathy, and understanding can flourish between Indigenous communities and non-Indigenous Canadians.

2. Recognizing Orange Shirt Day:

Orange Shirt Day complements Truth and Reconciliation Day by focusing specifically on raising awareness about residential schools' traumatic legacy. Initiated by Phyllis Webstad's story when her new orange shirt was taken from her upon arrival at a residential school, this day reminds us of the countless children who were stripped of their culture, language, identity, dignity, and familial bonds.

3. Learning Lessons From Our Past:

By commemorating these days collectively, we acknowledge that recognizing historical wrongs paves the way for healing intergenerational trauma. It prompts us to reflect on how similar systemic injustices persist today within various societal structures—education systems, healthcare disparities, judicial processes—among others.

4. Promoting Education & Awareness:

Educating ourselves about Indigenous history should extend beyond one designated day or month; however, Truth and Reconciliation Day provides an opportunity for all Canadians to engage in learning about the diverse cultures, traditions, and contributions of Indigenous peoples. It encourages us to become active participants in reconciliation efforts by challenging stereotypes and fostering inclusive spaces.

5. Fostering Reconciliation:

Reconciliation is a journey that involves listening, understanding, respect, and dismantling systemic barriers. On this day, let's strive for meaningful reconciliation by recognizing the rights of Indigenous peoples and promoting their self-determination while building bridges between communities based on mutual trust and understanding.

Truth and Reconciliation Day signifies an essential step towards healing historical wounds, acknowledging past injustices, and promoting unity among Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities. Together with Orange Shirt Day, it reminds us that we must confront uncomfortable truths if we genuinely seek reconciliation in our society. Let us embrace these days as opportunities to learn from our history, amplify Indigenous voices, work towards positive change, and build a future where cultural diversity thrives within an atmosphere of truth, compassion, justice, and respect for all.

[theswordandtherosepoetry]

[telekitnetic-art]

Arthur Morgan: born too late for the golden age of the west, born too early for modern healthcare, BUT was born just in time to hypothetically head up to a little area in British Columbia and kill Father Adrien-Gabriel Morice

[theshedding]

The Power of Black Dissent

For years I have talked about the “power of dissent” and the act of speaking truth to power. Over the years a large part of my speaking out has specifically been through the lens of religious dissent. For this is an under-appreciated legacy that has animated Civil Rights and social justice movements all over the African Diaspora for generations and (at least) hundreds of years following enslavement of African and indigenous peoples. It is not lost to irony that I write this entry on the day after Martin Luther King, Jr.’s federal holiday; himself an activist who’s greatest known speech was due in large part to the work of A. Phillip Randolph, a Black secularist. For all that Black religion has been said to offer we would likewise be nowhere, if not for the dissenting power of non-religious, Black, secular, doubting people and their activism.

I talk about this in detail on a new podcast and since the 2010′s I have enjoyed a kind of ‘wind at my back’ through Black Nonbelievers, a leading “non-profit” social justice organization that works to reframe culture, identity and Black advocacy through the lens of religious dissent, education and representation. Since 2011 it has been a thrilling ride; one that initially gave me “a place to land” as I transitioned out of a faith tradition that demonstrably caused harm and no longer served me socially, ethically or logically. Later, after years of fellowship and feeling like Black Nonbelievers (BN) was a place of refuge and strength-I sought to lead the local group in Washington, DC with the hopes of amplifying our visibility, legislative advocacy and community outreach. 

I am an activist. And I have worked in Black empowerment spaces, groups and non-profit organizations for most of my life; from being an actor in Black community theater (DC); to being a Treasurer and later President of the Black Student Union at Berklee College of Music in my undergrad years; to working at the “College Path” non-profit org at the YMCA helping Black and Latinx youth prepare for college and professional careers; to being a professional music educator and even  Minister of Music for 20+ years working with-and mentoring young people all over the East Coast...working and “holding space” for community, education, enlightenment and Black uplift has been a lifestyle throughout my life. Therefore, being the Director of Black Nonbelievers of DC was a natural outgrowth of previous work and identity. And it felt authentic...especially as a nonbeliever.

I had heard some “things” here and there; gripes from some people who came and went from the org. Most of those gripes did not check-out and were often framed and viewed as in-fighting by incredible people; other gripes were at worst, unresolved or un-investigable. I focused on my local group and the people within it, and we were good. Overall, I genuinely felt comfortable with the BN landscape and justified my continued work in the org. We did good work I thought; liberation work, Black empowerment work, educational work. That said, I quietly stopped donating to the org around 2019/20-partly because my “donation” was already paid for with my labor (e.g. time, volunteering, attending legislative and interfaith events on Capitol Hill, public organizing, marching in the streets, etc.), but also because deep down inside I started to feel something wasn’t quite right with the management and transparency of the org’s resources. Looking back, that was my mistake. 

Still, I continued to work for my local group. Because I took that work SERIOUSLY. I still enjoy(ed) our fellowship, the “work” and the overall sense of affirmation, belonging and “wind at my back” that came from an established platform like BN. Our work was noble, empowering and it made my own conversations about non-belief with my family and outsiders easier to have than they would have been if I were just a lone Black atheist ranting about atheism and church/state separation. 

So I stayed. 

_____

Given all that, one could understand why after over 10 years of membership and 5 years of being an “Affiliate Director” within this organization, I was devastated to learn that people were in fact, demonstrably being harmed within the fellowship. Black Nonbelievers, it came to my attention this December by Mandisa Thomas herself, was actively being corrupted by its own head of leadership-in a deliberate and unconscionable way-routinely, for personal gain.

As I have learned from December 2022 until (literally) yesterday (1/16/23), the “goings-on” behind the scenes with BN founder and president Mrs. Thomas are of an unacceptable nature and magnitude. They are not merely incidental or “personal”. They are systemic and they are long-standing. 

Excerpted from the preliminary findings of the BNDC Incident Report (Dec 2022):

I attest to the following:

That all six (6) organizers during our initial investigative process agreed Mrs. Mandisa Thomas’s alleged behaviors were credible in their claims, and valid and unacceptable for the organization going forward. To varying degrees, myself along with all six organizers were witnesses-to these behaviors and/or personally informed of them by Mrs. Thomas herself. Furthermore, that following the departure of five (5) organizers, I continued our investigation of Mrs. Mandisa Thomas to verify warrant for our decision(s).

Regarding Black Nonbelievers of DC (BNDC), these and other related claims, the following actions are credible and made demonstrable. That Mrs. Mandisa Thomas:

Routinely blurred personal and professional lines with both organizers and members concerning detailed sexual histories.

Promoted consensual sexual interaction(s) of two or more members at official events (e.g. BNSeaCon).

Misappropriated organizational resources to facilitate or engage in consensual interactions with BN member(s).

Manipulated key narratives to gain loyalties and leverage collegial support for desired personal outcome(s) among members and organizers.

Arbitrarily expelled members from the organization and its events without board or leadership review.

Arbitrarily expelled members from the organization and events without board or leadership review due to private sexual and/or romantic dynamics.

Provided “a safe and nurturing space for Black people without faith and leaving religion” contingent upon adherence to romantic dynamics favorable to Mrs. Thomas.

Neglected to publish or implement quarterly reviews of organizational health and sustainability for BNDC affiliate members and organizers.

Neglected publishing or implementing method(s) of impartial review for grievances among leaders and members.

Neglected publishing or implementing means of financial transparency and review to board or organizers.

Failing to heed advice from organizers regarding public confrontation of BN member(s) and associates on private relationships between Mrs. Thomas and a BN member.

Regarding acts, these conclusions implicate Mrs. Thomas’ indiscretions of a personal or intimate nature with (1) members (2) organizers and (3) associates, regarding (4) multiple incidents of mismanagement. These conclusions also suggest a convergence of these relationships with official BN resources used to facilitate them. In other instances, a separate but not necessarily unrelated pattern of secret expulsion from BN portrays a (5) lack of institutional safeguards and review processes for Black Nonbelievers and by extension, Black Nonbelievers of DC. These incidents-combined with an absence of transparency of resources and financial reporting for the organization and/or its affiliates merit both my departure and this report.

-Danile (”Ro”) // BNDC Affiliate Director 2017-2022 // BN Member 2011-2022

___________

There are receipts. Sadly, they keep coming.

Also excerpted from the BNDC Incident Report (re: “Supporting Documents, Item No.4″)

I will not stand by -nor- stand for an organization with this brand of leadership and abuse of power. And any movement of fellow advocates, personalities and organizations that would platform or, stand-by a leader like this and deliberately choose not to publicly scrutinize these claims with haste is highly suspect of perpetuating the exact same type of malfeasance, hypocrisy and systemic rot that it seeks to publicly oppose in churches, mosques and other problematic institutions.

_________

I like ‘people work’. And as noted, my professional history of working-with and helping people dates back over thirty years. Surely, people will make mistakes; institutions will have to be checked; programs need to be evaluated and systems need regulation. But to write off these claims, as many have done (and others seem to be doing) is more than troubling inside a movement self-identified by “humanism” and higher ethics...which is what the atheist movement at large proudly claims to be doing. Furthermore, shrugging off these accounts in service of ((__insert favorite celebrity here__)) for fear of dissent, cult following and public regard, racial scarcity or “cultural diversity” bona fides is well...gross and disgusting. 

Most importantly, to assemble unassuming people and White allies around you as a defense shield against claims by fellow Black people in a credible, ongoing ethics investigation whilst Black people are left victimized by your trauma is to do the exact opposite of the “Black liberation” and “empowerment” work Black Nonbelievers was founded to perform.

But...it is exactly the reason why I, and nearly all other BN affiliate directors resigned and wrote this incident report(s). Even as atheists. Especially as Black Atheists.

We dissent.

[shawnlbird]

poem- Hope

A poem for Truth and Reconciliation Day. . Broken generations, We hear yesterday’s lost children weeping, Embrace today’s children, Reach to tomorrow’s children With our torn hearts. . I gratefully acknowledge that I live and work in the unceded, traditional territory of the Secwepemc people.

[howdoesone]

How does one assess the impact of transitional justice mechanisms in post-genocide societies?

Transitional justice mechanisms play a crucial role in post-genocide societies by addressing past atrocities, promoting accountability, and fostering reconciliation. Assessing the impact of these mechanisms is essential to understand their effectiveness in healing divided communities and preventing future conflicts. This article explores how one can assess the impact of transitional justice…

[bear-naked-beading]

Does anyone remember these racist depictions of indigenous peoples/native Americans in our Saturday morning cartoons as a child??

Still as blatantly abhorrent as ever.

[goodnessgraciousgal]

“To learn to lament is to become people who stay near to the wounds of the world, singing over them and washing them, allowing the unsettling cry of pain to be heard.

The question Susan pressed about her experience is the transformation to which lament calls us:

"Are we ready to become that vulnerable?"

Emmanuel Katongole

[catholicdailyreflections]

Seeking Healing

Seeking Healing - Daily Gospel Reflection for Monday, February 6, 2023

February 6, 2023 Monday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time Saints Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs—Memorial Whatever villages or towns or countryside he entered, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak; and as many as touched it were healed. Mark 6:56 It would have been truly awe-inspiring to witness…

[sanchitainfra]

Day of Reconciliation #sanchitainfra #reconciliation #love #peace #indigenous #healing #hope #canada #forgiveness #truth #firstnations #faith #divorced #jesus #god #repentance #joemanchin #salvation #growth #aboriginal #reformed #breakup #accounting #alwayswasalwayswillbe #exhusband #bornagain #reformedtheology #repent #regeneration #culture (at Sanchita Infrastructure Private Limited) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmM6cjDhGl-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[auressea]

bite-sized bits of practical things you are able to do - uncolonizing

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ DUMB & POETIC ♡·˚

— [♡] ; you sprouted love like flowers, growing a garden in your mind and watering the petals with every unshed tear. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: hanahaki disease, fem!reader, fluff, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, vulnerable gojo satoru, recovered feelings, love after trauma, reconciliation, slow healing, happy ending, chapter two of four!

wc. 6.1K

↳ part 1 | part 3 [soon!]

Gojo’s newfound resolve was suffocating. The moment he realized the truth—that you were suffering, that you had been wilting away in silence—something inside him had shifted. He couldn’t let it go. His usual carefree attitude was gone, replaced with an intensity that left you exhausted beyond words. Every time he saw you now, he was right there—checking on you, offering his help, making sure you weren’t fading into the background anymore.

But you were tired. So tired.

You had spent so long trying to keep your head down, to hide the growing petals and the blood that came with every cough, that his sudden attention felt like too much. It was overwhelming. His presence, once something you had longed for in silence, now felt heavy, a constant reminder of how far gone you were.

After your confession, Gojo had made it clear that he wasn’t going to stand by and let you wither away. He was determined to help, to fix things, even though he didn’t know how. But that resolve, that fierce energy that he always carried, only served to remind you of how out of place you felt in his world.

Gojo was a powerhouse, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could bend the very fabric of the world to his will. He was confident, capable, and surrounded by students with talents that could rival his own in time. Yuji, Megumi, Nobara—they all had bright futures, their potential limitless. And then there was you: lungs full of blood and flowers, a cursed technique that barely registered on anyone’s radar. You had never stood a chance of catching his attention before, and now that you had, it was because you were slowly dying.

You made your way back to your room, each step heavier than the last. Your body ached with fatigue, the constant strain of the hanahaki weighing you down. The tissue box was empty, and you knew you would have to ask Shoko for more supplies soon, but even that felt like too much effort.

All you wanted to do was lie down in the dark and disappear for a while.

When you finally reached your room, you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. The air felt thick, your chest constricting with the familiar tightness that signaled another coughing fit. You swallowed hard, willing the flowers to stay buried for now. You couldn’t deal with another fit, not right now.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh light of the afternoon sun. It was a small comfort, the darkness wrapping around you like a blanket as you made your way to the bed. You didn’t bother turning on the lights. You didn’t need them. All you wanted was to rest, to escape the relentless exhaustion that had become your constant companion.

As you lay down, sinking into the worn-out mattress, the silence of the room pressed in on you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, to close your eyes and pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart. But the pain in your chest wouldn’t let you forget. The flowers were still there, growing larger with each passing day, their roots winding through your lungs, cracking your bones and choking the life out of you bit by bit.

Gojo’s attention, his concern—it was supposed to help. He had hoped it would help. Maybe he thought that by staying close, by showing you that you weren’t alone, he could somehow stop the disease from progressing. But no amount of resolve could stop the petals from blooming. No amount of determination could fix what was happening inside of you.

And deep down, you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t belong in his world. Gojo was larger than life, a figure of strength and power, while you were fading away. Even now, with his attention fully on you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were out of place. That no matter how hard he tried, nothing could change the fact that you were weak.

The tears came unbidden, slipping down your cheeks as you lay there, curled up in the darkness. You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the familiar tightness as the flowers bloomed again, but this time, you didn’t fight it. You let the petals come, the blood staining your lips as they fluttered out, beautiful and deadly.

You had wanted Gojo’s attention for so long. You had dreamt of him noticing you, of him seeing you the way he saw the others. But now that he had, it only served to highlight the gap between you—the gulf that separated your fragile existence from his unstoppable strength.

As another coughing fit wracked your body, you buried your face in the pillow, the sound muffled but still too loud in the quiet of the room. The petals, soft and cerulean, fell onto the bedspread, a cruel reminder of the love you could never express. You wiped at your mouth, the blood mixing with the tears as you struggled to catch your breath.

Gojo was trying to help, but you were too far gone.

You curled tighter into yourself, your breath shallow as you closed your eyes and let the darkness take you. All you could do was hope that, for a little while, the world would leave you alone.

The past few days had been especially brutal—nosebleeds every time you so much as raised your head, petals blooming with every shallow breath. Your body had begun to reject even the most basic movements, leaving you bedridden, trapped in the darkness of your tiny dorm room.

You hadn’t gone to class in two days. The mere thought of leaving your bed felt impossible, the effort it took to even sit up leaving you dizzy and coughing up more blood than ever before. Your assignments, your studies—all of it had slipped away, fading into the background as you struggled just to survive the onslaught of pain and exhaustion.

The worst part wasn’t even the physical toll. It was the isolation.

You had cut yourself off completely, hiding away from the world and everyone in it, hoping that if you stayed quiet enough, no one would notice. But deep down, you knew that Gojo had been watching, keeping an eye on you even as you disappeared from his class. It was only a matter of time before he came looking for you.

It happened on the third day.

You were lying in bed, the covers pulled up around you despite the suffocating heat of the room. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, plunging the space into a dim, shadowy haze. The air was thick with the scent of blood and petals, a sickly sweetness that clung to everything. The tissue box beside your bed was nearly empty again, tissues scattered across the floor, stained with red and blue – turning almost a slickly hollow purple.

You hadn’t bothered getting up that day. Every time you tried, your head spun, and your vision blurred with the strain of another coughing fit. It was easier to stay still, to let the darkness wrap around you and pretend, for just a moment, that the world outside didn’t exist.

But then, you heard it—a knock at the door. It was soft at first, hesitant, but unmistakable.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat was too raw, your chest too tight with the ever-present flowers, their roots winding deeper into your lungs with every passing minute.

The knock came again, louder this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of Gojo’s voice. “Hey… you in there?”

Your heart sank. Of course, it was him. Of course, he had tracked your dorm room down.

When you didn’t respond, the door creaked open, and Gojo stepped inside. The sight of him, standing in the doorway of your tiny, dark dorm room, was almost surreal. He looked completely out of place, his tall frame too large for the cramped, messy space. His usual bright, confident energy seemed dulled by the atmosphere of the room, as if the darkness had reached out and swallowed him whole.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the scene before him—your rumpled bed, the scattered tissues, the bloodstained pillows. His blindfold-covered eyes scanned the room, his expression unreadable, but there was a heaviness in his posture that you hadn’t seen before.

You tried to sit up, but the effort sent a wave of dizziness crashing over you, and you collapsed back onto the mattress, your chest tightening painfully. Another petal slipped from your lips, landing softly on the sheets.

Gojo’s expression shifted, and in an instant, he was beside you, his presence filling the space around your bed. “You weren’t in class,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Two days.”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat burned, and all you could manage was a weak cough, more petals spilling from your mouth as you pressed a tissue to your lips.

Gojo’s hand hovered near your shoulder, hesitating before he placed it gently on the edge of your bed. “You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice strained. “I would’ve—” He stopped, his sentence hanging in the air, unfinished.

It was almost funny, how out of place he looked in your dorm. Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could command any room, now standing awkwardly in your dark, messy space, his usual confidence dimmed by the sheer weight of the situation.

“You’re really out of your element here, Gojo-sensei,” you rasped, the words barely audible as you tried to laugh, but the sound came out more like a wheeze.

Gojo’s lips quirked up into a faint, sad smile, but you knew his eyes—hidden behind his blindfold—didn’t reflect the usual lightness they held. “Yeah, well,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed, “you’re not making this easy.”

You let out a small, bitter chuckle, though it quickly turned into another cough, your hand trembling as you held the tissue to your mouth. “Nothing about this is easy,” you muttered.

Gojo’s hand shifted, and for a moment, you thought he might reach out to help, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sat there, his presence oddly quiet, his usual bravado tempered by the reality of what he was seeing.

“You didn’t have to come,” you said after a moment, your voice soft, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head slightly. “Too bad,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

You swallowed hard, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over you. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “Why do you care so much now?”

Gojo was silent for a moment, as if considering his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Because I should’ve been paying attention a long time ago,” he admitted. “I should’ve noticed you sooner.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his words. For so long, you had convinced yourself that you were invisible to him, that your presence in his class didn’t matter. But now, sitting here in your dark, messy room, it was clear that Gojo had noticed more than you realized.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “You have so much on your plate already.”

Gojo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward slightly, his hand finally reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You’re not a burden,” he said, his voice steady, but the emotion behind his words was undeniable. “You’re one of my students. I’m supposed to look out for you.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. For so long, you had felt like an outsider, like your existence didn’t matter. But in this moment, with Gojo sitting beside you, his presence quiet and unwavering, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as invisible as you thought.

But even so, the flowers continued to bloom, their roots winding deeper into your lungs, and you knew that Gojo’s attention, his resolve, wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Gojo’s presence in the room felt like an anchor, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. But even as his hand rested gently on your arm, his words filled with a kind of determination you hadn’t heard before, a harsh truth settled deep in your bones: no matter what he said, no matter how fiercely he tried to look after you now, it wouldn’t change the course of your imminent death.

You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling, the familiar ache in your chest pulsing with every shallow breath. The petals inside you weren’t just blooming—they were taking over, suffocating you from the inside out. Gojo’s concern, his guilt, his newfound attention—it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t stop the inevitable.

“It’s too bad,” you muttered, your voice raw, barely more than a breath. “Looking out for me now isn’t going to change anything.”

Gojo froze beside you, his hand still resting on your arm, though the warmth of his touch felt distant. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you could feel the weight of his silence, the way his usually unshakable confidence faltered in the face of something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fix.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost pleading. “I’m not giving up on you.”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound catching in your throat as another petal forced its way up, followed by a trickle of blood that stained your lips. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t give up,” you rasped, your breath uneven as you wiped the blood away with the back of your hand. “It’s too late, Gojo.”

He was quiet again, the tension in the room thickening as you both sat in the suffocating darkness. You could feel the weight of his frustration, the way his fingers tightened slightly against your arm, as if holding onto you harder could somehow stop what was happening. But nothing could stop the flowers now. Nothing could stop the hanahaki from claiming you, piece by piece.

Gojo finally spoke, his voice strained, like he was fighting to keep his usual bravado from slipping completely. “It’s not too late,” he said, but there was something hollow in the way he said it, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you. “There has to be something we can do.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, the exhaustion heavy in your limbs. The sight of Gojo—normally so composed, so sure of himself—looking utterly lost in your tiny, dimly lit room, was almost tragic. His blindfold hid his eyes, but you could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw clenched, his lips pressed tightly together. This was the strongest sorcerer in the world, and yet here, in this moment, even he couldn’t stop the inevitable.

“I appreciate it,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “but you can’t fix this.”

His fingers twitched against your arm, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he let out a slow, controlled breath, his hand slipping from your arm to his lap as he leaned back slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost broken.

You shook your head weakly, the effort taking more out of you than it should have. “Because what would it change?” you replied, your tone resigned. “I’m just another student, Gojo. Telling you wouldn’t have stopped this.”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you, his expression hardening at your words. “You’re not just another student,” he said sharply, his voice thick with frustration. “You never were.”

You closed your eyes again, the heaviness in your chest making it difficult to speak, let alone process his words. “Maybe not to you now,” you muttered, “but you didn’t notice me before. And now that you do… it’s too late.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Gojo didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you thought he might leave, might give up on this impossible situation. But then, his voice broke through the darkness, softer this time, almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes, surprised at the rawness in his tone. It was rare to hear Gojo like this—stripped of his usual confidence, his playful charm, and his endless bravado. He sounded… human. Vulnerable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” he continued, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of your labored breathing. “I should’ve been paying attention. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, shaking your head as much as your weak body would allow. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself.”

Gojo’s hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles white against the fabric of his pants. “How can I not?” he asked, his voice thick with guilt. “You’re my student. I’m supposed to protect you. And I didn’t.”

The air in the room felt heavy, oppressive, as you lay there in the silence that followed. You understood where his guilt came from, but it didn’t change the reality of the situation. Gojo couldn’t fix this. No one could.

“Maybe… maybe I don’t want to be saved,” you whispered, the truth of your words sinking in even as you said them. “I’ve lived with this for so long, and now… I’m just tired.”

Gojo didn’t respond right away, but the tension in his body told you how much your words affected him. He wasn’t used to losing, especially not like this—helpless, unable to fight back.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he said again, but this time, the desperation in his voice was clear. He wasn’t just saying it for you—he was saying it for himself. Trying to hold on to something, anything, that would make this feel less final.

You closed your eyes again, the exhaustion weighing down on you like a blanket. “You don’t have to give up,” you murmured. “But it doesn’t change the fact that… I’m already slipping away.”

In the darkness of your room, with the scent of blood and petals filling the air, the truth became impossible to ignore. Even Gojo, with all his power and resolve, couldn’t save you from this.

And somehow, in that moment, you were okay with that.

The silence between you and Gojo hung heavy in the room. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, but it offered no comfort, only a reminder of the widening gap between what could be and what was. You knew he was desperate to help, but even he, the strongest sorcerer, couldn't stop what was happening inside you.

The thought stirred something inside you—curiosity, maybe desperation of your own. You turned your head slowly to look at him, eyes half-lidded, your voice hoarse and broken as you spoke.

"Can you see it?" you asked, your words barely more than a breath, your throat raw from the constant coughing. "With your Six Eyes?"

Gojo's posture stiffened slightly, but you could feel the shift in his energy. The question hung in the air, thick with meaning. You knew that his Six Eyes gave him extraordinary perception, allowed him to see cursed energy and details others couldn't possibly comprehend. But you wondered—could he see the flowers inside of you? Could he see the petals twisting around your lungs, choking the life out of you, piece by piece - if he tried?

For a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched on, and you could feel the weight of his hesitation. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet, almost fragile. “Yes.”

The word lingered in the air, a confirmation that sent a chill through you.

Gojo didn’t elaborate, but you didn’t need him to. You could picture it now—his Six Eyes, usually so sharp and all-seeing, watching the cursed energy inside of you twist and knot around the blooming flowers. You wondered if it looked as beautiful as it felt tragic. Did he see the delicate petals weaving through your body, tainted with blood and despair? Did the flowers glow in his vision, vibrant but deadly, a curse of unrequited love made visible through the lens of his extraordinary power?

“Tell me what you see,” you whispered, unsure why you even wanted to know. Maybe because it felt like the only way to truly confront the reality of your condition, to hear from him just how deep the curse ran.

Gojo was silent for a long moment, his hand resting loosely on his knee, fingers twitching slightly as though he were struggling with how to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, almost reverent.

“I see… cursed energy wrapped around you, tightening,” he said slowly, as if each word was pulled from him against his will. “It’s like… roots, tangled and twisting, wrapped around your lungs. They’re… beautiful, but they’re suffocating you.”

Your breath hitched in your chest at his words. Beautiful but suffocating. That was exactly how it felt—both physically and emotionally. This disease, born of your unspoken feelings for him, was devastatingly beautiful in its way. The petals were lovely, but their bloom came at the cost of your life.

Gojo leaned forward, his voice more strained now. “The flowers… they’re cursed energy, too, aren’t they? Your emotions, your love… they’ve turned into something I can see. Something I can’t stop.”

You blinked back tears, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You didn’t need to look at him to know the helplessness that now filled his expression. Gojo was someone who was never helpless, someone who could bend the world to his will, yet here he was, unable to stop the flowers from blooming, unable to stop your slow descent.

“They’re… suffocating me,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Even you… can’t stop them.”

Gojo was silent, his hand gripping the edge of your bed as if that could steady him. For the first time since you had known him, he seemed lost. There was no easy solution, no power he could wield to fix this. All he could do was watch—watch as the flowers continued to bloom, watch as your life slipped away before his very eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Again.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creep up on you again. “Don’t be,” you muttered, your voice fading as sleep pulled you under. “Just… stay.”

For once, Gojo didn’t argue. He stayed. And for a moment, in the suffocating darkness of your dorm room, with the flowers blooming inside you, it was enough.

You lay there, exhausted, your body worn from the endless cycle of coughing and pain. Gojo sat beside you, quieter than you had ever seen him. His usual boundless energy was gone, replaced by something darker, more solemn. He had seen the flowers—seen them with his Six Eyes—and now, for the first time, he truly understood the depth of what you were facing.

But even his understanding didn’t change the reality. You were dying. Slowly, but surely.

The soft sound of footsteps broke through the silence, and you turned your head slightly as Shoko stepped into the room. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of exhaustion and something else you couldn’t quite place. She carried the air of someone who had been wrestling with a difficult decision, and the moment she walked in, you knew she had something important to say.

Gojo straightened slightly as she entered, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched her, his blindfold still in place, though you could feel the weight of his focus shifting between you and Shoko.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, glancing between the two of you. She moved to the foot of your bed, crossing her arms over her chest as she took in the state of the room—of you.

You tried to sit up, but your body betrayed you, weak and uncooperative. Shoko’s gaze softened as she saw you struggle, and she moved closer, her eyes serious but compassionate.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice calm and measured. “About your condition. About the hanahaki.”

You felt a tightness in your chest at her words. You knew what she was about to say. You had been avoiding this conversation for as long as you could, but it was inevitable.

“There’s a surgery,” she continued, her voice steady. “We can remove the flowers, the roots, everything. It’s the only way to stop the disease from progressing.”

You glanced at Gojo, but he remained silent, his expression tense. Shoko’s words hung in the air like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that had consumed you. But you knew the cost of that surgery.

Shoko’s eyes flickered to Gojo for a moment before settling back on you. She hesitated, then spoke quietly. “But… the surgery will take away your feelings. Your love for him.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of her words crashing down around you. You had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t prepared for. The flowers would be gone—the pain, the coughing, the blood—but so would your love for Gojo. That deep, unspoken feeling that had been a part of you for so long, the very thing that had caused this disease, would be erased.

You looked up at Shoko, your throat tight, your voice barely a whisper. “So… I’d stop loving him?”

Shoko nodded, her gaze softening with understanding. “Yes,” she said gently. “The feelings that caused the hanahaki would be removed. It’s the only way to save you.”

Gojo shifted beside you, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, though he still didn’t say anything. His silence was deafening, and it made the decision feel even more impossible.

You turned your head to look at him, searching his face for some kind of answer, some kind of guidance. But all you saw was the same confusion and helplessness that you felt. This wasn’t something his power could fix. This wasn’t something that could be fought or defeated.

The choice was yours.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, your mind reeling. Could you really give it up? Could you let go of the love you had held onto for so long, even though it had been one-sided? The thought of not loving Gojo anymore, of not feeling the warmth and the ache that came with caring for him, left a hollow ache in your chest. But the alternative—letting the flowers bloom until they consumed you completely—was a death sentence.

“I don’t want to stop loving him,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Gojo’s head snapped toward you, his expression tightening. You couldn’t see his eyes behind the blindfold, but you could feel his shock, his hesitation. He hadn’t known, not fully, just how much you had held inside. But now, with Shoko standing here offering you a chance to live—a chance to erase the very thing that had been killing you—he knew.

“Don’t…” Gojo’s voice was low, strained, as if he was grappling with what to say. “Don’t do this for me.”

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, though the blindfold hid his eyes. “It’s not about you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s about… me. It’s about what I’m willing to lose to keep going.”

Gojo flinched, and you saw the way his fingers tightened into fists, his jaw clenched. He wanted to say something, to stop you, but he knew he couldn’t. This was a decision only you could make.

Shoko stepped closer, her expression compassionate but firm. “It’s your choice,” she said quietly. “But if you don’t do the surgery soon, there won’t be another option.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a heavy fog. If you chose the surgery, you could live—but you would lose the most important part of yourself. If you refused, the flowers would take you, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you said again, your voice trembling. “Even if it hurts. Even if it’s killing me.”

Gojo’s hand finally reached for yours, his fingers brushing against your cold skin. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, almost pleading. “I don’t want you to die.”

You closed your eyes, the tears falling freely now. The choice was in front of you, clear and unforgiving.

Save yourself, but lose him.

Or love him, and let the flowers take you.

You had never felt so lost.

Shoko had been quiet after your initial resistance, but her eyes were filled with a kind of quiet understanding that unnerved you. She had known all along that this decision would tear you apart. Even now, with Gojo sitting silently at your bedside, his hand gently wrapped around yours, you could feel the weight of the decision looming over all of you.

But in the days that followed, as Gojo was called away on a mission—one he couldn’t refuse—the decision became clearer. The pain was getting worse. You could hardly get out of bed without collapsing into a fit of coughing, petals spilling from your lips more violently than ever before. Every breath felt like a battle, and every time you blinked, the world around you seemed to fade just a little more.

Shoko visited frequently. Each time she came, she brought more supplies, more medications to dull the pain, but her eyes always carried the same question: When will you decide?

And finally, after a particularly brutal day when you could hardly move from bed, your body weak and ravaged by the flowers, Shoko had sat down beside you, her voice firm yet compassionate.

“You’re dying,” she said plainly. “And I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth. If you keep waiting, if you don’t do something… it’s going to be too late.”

You had closed your eyes, her words echoing in your mind. You didn’t want to stop loving Gojo. You didn’t want to lose that part of yourself, even if it was killing you. But the reality was becoming impossible to ignore.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to forget him.”

Shoko placed a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but steady. “I know. But Gojo doesn’t want you to die. You don’t deserve to die for this.”

Her words hit you like a wave, crashing against the walls you had built around yourself. You were so tired—tired of the pain, the suffocation, the slow withering away of your body. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to survive this. Maybe it was time to let go.

Shoko leaned in closer, her voice soft but insistent. “You deserve to live, even if it means you have to forget.”

The decision, when you finally made it, felt like it wasn’t entirely yours. It felt like giving up. But you agreed. You agreed to the surgery while Gojo was away, telling yourself that it was for the best. He wouldn’t be there to see you go through with it, to watch you lose the love that had been driving you toward death. He would never have to know how hard it had been for you to let go of him.

The surgery came faster than you expected. Shoko was efficient, as always, and her team worked in the clinical, detached way that was necessary for something like this. You felt numb, even before the anesthesia kicked in. The thought of losing the flowers—the flowers that represented your love for Gojo—was a strange, hollow feeling. You had grown accustomed to the weight of them inside you, even as they destroyed you.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the absence of pain. No more tightness in your chest, no more blood, no more petals. Just… silence.

But along with that silence came something else. The overwhelming emptiness where your feelings for Gojo had been. The love you had carried for him, the very thing that had once consumed you, was gone. Erased. You knew it intellectually, but you couldn’t feel it anymore. It was like staring at a memory that had faded beyond recognition. The edges were still there, but the warmth was gone, and the ache that once defined your every waking moment had vanished.

You were free—but at what cost?

It was a few days later when Gojo returned from his mission. You had been resting, trying to adjust to the strange new quietness inside your heart, when the door to your room swung open. Gojo stepped in, his usual lightness dimmed by the weight of the situation.

He had rushed back, that much was clear. His blindfold was slightly askew, his hair disheveled, and there was an urgency in the way he moved as he approached your bed.

“Hey, kid,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed, his voice more tentative than you’d ever heard it. “I came as soon as I could.”

You looked up at him, feeling… disconnected. He was still Gojo. Still the same person who had sat by your side, trying to comfort you, trying to save you. But something was different now. He seemed so far away, like a figure from a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.

“I had the surgery,” you said quietly, your voice steady. You were surprised by how calm you felt.

Gojo blinked, his expression shifting, though it was hard to read behind his blindfold. “I know,” he said softly, his voice laced with something that sounded almost like regret. “Shoko told me.”

There was a pause, a long, uncomfortable silence as the two of you sat there. You knew what he was going to ask. He had to ask, even though you knew the answer.

“Do you… still feel the same?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “About me?”

You looked away, your heart heavy, though not in the way it had been before. There was no pain, no aching love suffocating you. Just the quiet, empty truth.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I don’t. I don’t feel anything for you anymore.”

Gojo didn’t move for a moment. The weight of your words seemed to hang between you, thick and final. He sat there, staring at you, though you couldn’t see his eyes. You could feel the tension in his body, the realization that something irrevocable had changed.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice tight, though he tried to hide it behind his usual facade. But the cracks were there, small and painful.

You felt like you should have said something more, but there was nothing left to say. You had made your choice, and now you had to live with it. Gojo, too, would have to live with the knowledge that you had loved him once, deeply, but now, it was gone.

He stood slowly, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach his usual brightness. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice light but strained. “That’s what matters.”

You nodded, watching as he turned to leave. But before he walked out the door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame.

“I’ll still be around,” he said, quieter now, almost to himself. “If you need anything.”

And then he was gone.

The room felt emptier than before, and though the flowers were gone from your lungs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious had been lost in their place.

notes: I tried to keep your cursed technique vague so y'all can pick whatever it is - If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know <3

tag list: @lily-of-my-dreams @sunnyx07 @3zae-zae3 @sashisuslover @kingshitonly @bvuckleybby @laviefantasie

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[starsbythepocketful13]

when you spend a year writing a former classmate’s papers for pay and unintentionally become extremely passionate about learning more about the history and the current struggles of your country’s Indigenous peoples ps the real post is in the tags

[godbirdart]

june 21 is national indigenous peoples day up here in canada; a day focused on celebrating the arts and cultures of our indigenous neighbours and communities.

if you’re looking for ways to support, or generally further your education on indigenous history, here are a bunch of links to help you get started! please go further and look up events hosted by your local community specifically, as some may not be listed on the sites below.

remember that if you cannot attend events or monetarily support businesses - you can always boost indigenous artists and voices online too.

indigenous tourism; lists businesses, events, and other indigenous-owned / led programs for the respective province or territory

indigenous tourism canada [generalized resources, event listings etc]

yukon

northwest territories

nunavut

british columbia

alberta

saskatchewan

manitoba

ontario

quebec

newfoundland and labrador

new brunswick

nova scotia

prince edward island

art

bill reid gallery of the northwest coast

lattimer art gallery

native northwest [while NNW itself is not indigenous-owned, it is a good way to discover artists and purchase their work. some artists sell on other sites too, so look around]

strong nations [sells books by indigenous authors]

education and resources

two-spirited people of manitoba

alberta indigenous history timeline [pdf]

alberta indigenous history resources

british columba history timeline

list of first nations peoples [wikipedia; could be incomplete / inaccurate]

cbc indigenous [indigenous-focused news]

missing and murdered indigenous women and girls

national centre for truth and reconciliation

native land interactive map

orange shirt day

qikiqtani truth commission

lil’ red dress project

whose land interactive map

charities / support / donations

clan mothers healing billage & knowledge centre

first nations health authority

indian residential schools survivor society

indigenous peoples resilience fund

qajuqturvik food bank

niqinik nuatsivik nunavut food bank

nunavut food security coalition

reconciliation canada

urban native youth association

additional links are always appreciated

[theblackdahliaemporium]

Plant Correspondences:

This is going to be a long post! This is in no way, a complete list. This is Simply some Popular ones! If you have any other plants, herbs, or flowers you’re curious about, List them in the comments below!

Edit to add: Huckleberry! HUCKLEBERRY (Leaves): Good Fortune, Luck, Dream Work

TREES: • ACACIA ~ Clairvoyance, Divination, Visions, Wealth, Protection, Blessings • ALDER ~ Banishing, Transformation, Truth, Power of Water, Intuition • APPLE ~ Dream Work, Enchantment, Fertility, Love, Luck, Harmony • BIRCH ~ Reduces anxiety, Defensive Magick, Increases concentration, Creativity • CEDAR ~ Afterlife, Clairvoyance, Breaks Hexes, Psychic Ability • CYPRESS ~ Binding, Defensive Magick, Comfort, Mental Power, Wisdom • ELDER~ Grounding, Healing, Love, Magickal Power, Success • ELM ~ Intuition, Love, Pregnancy/Childbirth, Stability • JUNIPER ~ Fertility, Happiness, Protection, Optimism, Spirits, Strength • OAK ~ Confidence, Justice, Luck, Money, Success, Independence, Wealth • PINE ~ Beginnings, Blessings, Hope, Prosperity, Self-Work, Releasing • ROWAN ~ Astral Realm, Devotion, Guidance, Psychic Ability, Visions, Spirits • WILLOW ~ Moon Magick, Moon Power, Protection, Knowledge, Fertility • WITCH HAZEL ~ Healing, Inspiration, Willpower, Fidelity, Wisdom

HERBS & FLOWERS: • AGRIMONY ~ Harmony, Healing, Breaking Hexes, Dream Work, Protection • ALLSPICE~ Business, Luck, Success, Kindness, Money • ANGELICA ~ Repels Negativity, Divination, Purification, Success, • ANISE ~ Balance, Energy, Harmony, Purification, Well-Being • BASIL ~ Psychic Ability, Love (Reconciliation), Money, Messages/Omens • BELLADONNA ~ Imagination, Night Magick, Visions, Astral Realm • BETONY ~ Solving Problems, Security, Decreases Anxiety, Protection • BORAGE ~ Beginnings, Business success, Skills, Courage, Awareness • BLUEBELL ~ Kindness, Luck, Love, Manifestation, Overcoming Obstacles • CARNATION ~ Deep Love, Beauty, Communication, Fertility, Harmony, Emotions • CATNIP ~ Love, Luck, Psychic Ability, Spirits, Prevents Nightmares • CHAMOMILE ~ Blessings, Calming, Reduces Anger & Anxiety, Money, Luck • CINNAMON ~ Wealth, Money, Security, Luck, Desire, Attraction, Peace • CLOVE ~ Divination, Prosperity, Psychic Ability, Success, Truth, Visions • CLOVER ~ Grounding, Luck, Marriage, Prosperity, Success, Spiritual Balance • CUMIN ~ Fidelity, Harmony, The Home, Longevity, Love, Repels Negativity • DAFFODIL ~ Afterlife, Fairies, Love (Unrequited), Security, Spirits, Calming • DANDELION ~ Clairvoyance, Clarity, Divination, Communication, Spirits • DILL ~ Defensive Magick, Breaking Hexes, Love, Lust, Sex Magick, Money • FENNEL ~ Blessings, Repels Evil & Negative Energy (from entering the home) • FEVERFEW ~ Healing, Heartbreak, Love, Protection, Strength, Purification • GARLIC ~Banishing, Justice, Protection, Breaking Hexes, Release, Security • GINGER ~ Money, Pregnancy/Childbirth, Moon Magick, Unity, Success • HENBANE (highly poisonous) ~ Astral Realm, Divination, Love (Attract) • HONEYSUCKLE ~ Affection, Destiny, Happiness, Love, Peace, Well-Being • IVY ~ Attraction, Marriage, Love, Stability, Transformation, Fidelity, Omens • LAVENDER ~ Reduces Anger and Anxiety, Love, Manifestation, Luck, Rebirth • LEMON BALM ~ Business Success, Calming, Clarity, Fertility, Relationships • MANDRAKE (Poisonous) ~ Desire, Courage, spirits, Wealth, Omens, Bind • MISTLETOE (Poisonous) ~ Beginnings, Blessings, Business, Luck • MOONWORT ~ Clairvoyance, Divination, Love, Moon Magick, Money • MUGWORT ~ Spirits, Psychic Ability, Astral Realm, Awareness, Psychic Energy • NETTLE ~ Healing, Justice, Luck, Protection, Courage, Confidence • NUTMEG ~ Life, Luck, Love, Money, Power, Attract, Psychic Ability, Divination • ORRIS ROOT~ Astral, Protection, Relationships, Love, Sexual Attraction • PATCHOULI ~ Manifestation, Peace, Luck, Love (Attract), Money, Business • PEPPER ~ Motivation, Lust, Justice, Bind, Security, Strength • PEPPERMINT ~ Dream Work, Divination, Luck, Money, Visions, Healing • ROSE ~ Fertility, Family, Blessings, Love, Luck, Happiness, Beginnings • ROSEMARY ~ Psychic Ability, Psychic Protection, Inner Power, Luck, Afterlife • SAGE ~ Clairvoyance, Cleansing, Visions, Clears Negativity, Business • SANDALWOOD ~ Focus, Concentration, Success, Luck, Moon Magick, Blessings • ST. JOHN'S WORT ~ Strength, Power, Money, Consecrate/Bless, Prosperity • SNAPDRAGON ~ Clairaudience, Emotions, Money, Protection, Assertiveness • STAR ANISE ~ Divination, Psychic Ability, Purification, Consecrate/ Bless • STRAWBERRY ~ Beauty, Desire, Luck, Love, Relationships, Divination • SUNFLOWER ~ Clarity, Dream Work, Solar Energy, Light, Peace, Money, Luck • THYME ~ Healing, Happiness, Increasing, Rebirth, Protection, Calming • WORMWOOD ~ Clairvoyance, Dream Work, Guidance, Psychic Ability, Spirits • YARROW ~ Defense, Banishing, Heartbreak, Marriage, Healing, Release, Strength