Intactivism Burn Out


( Intactivist: Definition and Resources )

Fervor begins when something hurts. A giant boulder crashing and shattering ones soul. We bleed. We grieve. Then we awaken to the power within. Why!! What can be done?!! Who will hear us? What must I learn? The energy is overpowering, flowing. Words must flow out, like the blood from our hearts. We are caught in a world gone insane. Caught yes, but not entrapped. We must scream out. The energy pours, cries, pleads. Sometimes angry and crashing like thunder. Other times soothing and healing, like clear flowing water. But we must scream!! Then we must change the world, remake our reality, rewrite the story. We continue to cry, as our talents pour out our souls. Search the facts. Expose the obvious. Absorb the pain. Remove the anguish of the innocents, incorporate it into our souls instead. We can sacrifice ourselves so that the little ones can be free. Create a new world.

The energy leads one to interview people, talk, question, study, write. It all flows outward, from the heart of the earth, into ones fingertips. I am just the typist. It’s a cry of the universe, a cry from every tortured baby – the pain and the healing.

But when does the energy fade? Ego sets in. The Quixotic journey, “I will save the earth!” People will love me, I will be so important!! Everybody will know who I am. I am the child in school, doing class assignments, getting A’s. An “A” earns love, doesn’t it? You do things and get love and praise for it. Isn’t this how the world works?

Tiresomeness. Endless – foreskins and Gomco clamps. Babies in anguish. Men angry at their loss. Mothers’ hearts breaking with regret. Again and again and again. I’m numb to it all. So tired. So tedious. System overload. I numbly continue to stuff articles into envelopes. My mind is elsewhere.

Frustration. The facts seem so obvious. Babies strapped down to boards, knife to their genitals – pure horror! But so many won’t listen. It’s “not supposed to hurt.” So it’s “my fault” when I say that it does. The lame excuses are ingrained from centuries of indoctrination. The people follow like sheep. The concept of genital cutting is like an evil, resistant tumor in our souls. Its stranglehold on the American public seems unfathomable, as if removing one crumbling grain of sand at a time will break down this immense brick wall.

Emotional depression becomes a disease. No one chooses to be miserable. Depression is an evil creature. It encases our world like a huge dark gray cloud of rubber cement that we must claw our way out of or die. Forget popular Satanic images. Depression is the true evil, distorting reality, crippling our souls, paralyzing us by denying us a life of joy and pleasure.

My soul had gone blank from so many years. I gave it all I could. The love I sought isn’t there. The world of cut genitals and mindless conformity goes on in its stupor. Life does not work out the way I had imagined. I don’t want babies hurt – therefore I am the “crazy one.” I must go elsewhere. My brain is exhausted.

I need a different arena. Forget that I wrote that stupid book. Nobody cares! I have other loves, other interests. My children are growing up. I need money for them. I am a craftsperson. My ever busy hands that once poured out passion and pain onto paper now are filled with crochet thread. A different part of my brain loves patterns, colors, a different type of creation, not in words. I sew, crochet and design endlessly. It eases my soul somehow. I do craft shows and live in a different world – so distant from that of birth stories, circumcision trauma, and all of the genital cutting turmoil. I’ve needed this – not just the money from sales, but to be in a different venue now.

A creative life is a spiritual process in that every item produced – for me, with every little crocheted angel or snowflake and patchwork potholder I create, there is a part of my spirit that belongs to that item. For others this may be a painting, a sculpture, a pottery item. Each human creation carries a life and energy of its own. If I use an old item, once embroidered, patch worked or quilted by another in decades past I put my soul in touch with its unknown creator before my own energies are added.

Likewise, when one is a writer the energy in ones written words takes on a life and spirit of its own which continues working even when the writer has gone elsewhere. The love and passion still exists, eternally etched on paper and now computer screens. Its own energy continues to grow in the minds and hearts of others and then spreads into other creative works and passions. I was the original channel once. The path has traveled so far now, like a child grown up, on his or her own, without a parents’ assistance.

Life’s stern but healing lessons: Ego is nothing but a hindrance. Real love is not achieved through accomplishments. Positive energies go out to heal, NOT to make “Rosemary” important. I alone cannot be the champion “healer of the earth.” We are a strong, collective energy, our minds and souls are melded together. United and supporting each other as the “village” that it takes, we are an immeasurable force. There is no direction to go but forward.

The above is a painting in words of my own journey. Each person’s journey is different. Take it where it leads you. All I can give are what I’ve learned along the way:

1.) Intactivism can be a harsh, blinding fire. An infant, borne in peace, sleeping undisturbed, undamaged is totally simple and pure. The agonizing flurry of circumcision that surrounds our minds can be infinitely complicated and frustrating, as if a giant squid has captured our brains and won’t let go. The peace in ones own life is powerful yet limited. We cannot rest until the world can rest. A seemingly impossible assignment, but we are called to this mission. Genital cutting is a giant, angry knife that has attacked our infants, numbed our life essence, torn our hearts and deadened our souls. We must conquer this beast. Each whole, vibrant child becomes a messenger in defiance of the monster. Know this. Face the fire. But when ones own energy is zapped, back away. Others will continue the fight. Ones own creative works continue the fight on their own. Take time to rest. We are a community. Intactivists’ souls are united. The energy continues.

2.) Our minds overload when focused on only one passion. No one person is meant to carry the burden alone. The overload of horror and frustration can lead one to the brink of insanity. Find space. Other energies in this world balance our minds, keep us in focus. Paint, draw, sculpt, or hike, ski, play sports. Our minds need variety to stay healthy. Take care of oneself in whatever way is needed. When the time is right one can return to intactivism energy, refreshed, filled with determination.

3.) Let go of the ego trips. Seeking the praise of others can become an unquenchable thirst. Fame is cotton candy elusive. None of this can substitute for true friendship, soul to soul bonding, continued love and support between people on the true stage of life.

4.) Give love and support to all others on the intactivism journey. This is so needed. We all share a common soul bond. Our bodies and hearts have been hurt in so many ways. We need each other. Support may mean money or other resources, or it may mean sympathy and a listening ear. This is a community effort that all blends together. We are indeed a family.

5.) Remember that our work is pure altruism. We are bearing the pain, the struggle and the sorrow so that others whom we may never know can be spared assault on their genitals and live as free, whole functioning human beings. This is truly work of the highest order. Be it spiritual rewards, “karma” or whatever one may wish to call it, working to bring peace and righteousness to humanity will become the ultimate healing to our own souls.

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