Dancing with Spirit

• Cailleach: Celtic Crone Goddess of Winter

• Cailleach: She Will Not Be Denied
• Cailleach's Wrath

Sorry I have been out lately.

I feel pulled these days
  to the 'inside'.

It is, for me,
  always a dance
  between the universe
  inside,
  and the world in which I walk.

Right now,
  muse calls me in.

So, therein shall I reside,
  at least for now,
  while I explore what spirit
  would inspire as my fingers
  touch the keys.

Hopefully, I'll see you
  on my Spirit Walk blog,
http://kristenemagisspiritwalk.blogspot.com/

 and my Soul Embodied blog,
http://kristenmagissoulembodied.blogspot.com/

A Picture Worth 1000 Words

It Doesn't Trickle Down

18 September 2012

As more and more Americans
  lose their homes, their livelihoods,
  the ability to feed, cloth and protect their children,
  we are starting
  to understand something
  the poor among us
  have long known...

It Doesn't Trickle Down.

If we, the 99%, are to stop the war
  the wealthy have waged against us,
  we must understand our own
  contribution to their war chest.

We must disarm
  the wealthy
  of the weapons
  we give them.

One important strategy
  of disarmament
  is to understand
  the lies we have accepted
  as reality,
  and to understand how those lies
  were embedded
  into our psyches.

I want to tell a story,
  but first I want to pose
  some questions for us all
  to ponder.

Why are unemployed poor people perceived as reprehensible even though national economic policies that sustain involuntary unemployment are not seen as blameworthy?

Why are the unemployed poor held in disdain while the unemployed wealthy are celebrated?  To help answer this question, you might survey the number of TV shows that exult Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

Why are the poor who receive welfare accused of dependency and deviancy while those not labeled as such enjoy welfare free from public disclosure and judgment, e.g., students who receive public financial aide, homeowners who receive tax breaks, corporations that don't pay taxes and do receive subsidies, civil servants who receive pay for unproductive work and workers employed by military bases kept open exclusively for employment purposes?

I assert that these beliefs were

  intentionally created
  by those who
  were called 'Robber Barons'

  to divert our attention
  while they plundered
  our lives and our nation.

These beliefs are now sustained
  by modern day Robber Barons
  and we who continue to believe,
  and hence, perpetuate the story.

So, here is the story,
  only know this...
  It is not a parable or an invention of my mind.
  It is a rendering of our own history
  in these United States.

It is the story of the
  social construction of what we believe to be reality.

Even as our unwitting belief in this story
  reinforces the endeavors of the wealthy
  to continue, unabated, in their destruction
  of our economy,

so, our considered understanding
  of this story,
  and our commitment to NOT
  play a part in its continuance,
  will take back two very powerful
  weapons the wealthy use against us...

namely, our ability to think for ourselves,
  and to create our own reality.

The Past Unveils the Present

This story is one wherein the destinies of two disparate groups, i.e., capitalists and poor, are interwoven into a robust and resilient fabric.  The fabric’s strength is realized through a reiterative and self-reinforcing process dating back to antiquity.  This cycle includes attitudes and biases, the appropriation of those attitudes for purpose, the institutionalization of both, and the expansion of the attitudes.  Herein, the cycle is first observed at a critical juncture in its American evolution, i.e., the advent of Social Darwinism, and secondly in its contemporary form.  The juxtaposition illustrates the force and seeming intractability of the cycle and demonstrates the challenges faced by policies that run contrary to it.

Ingram and Schneider (1993) identify various socially constructed groups, characteristics accorded them and consequent implications for them as recipients of public welfare.  One group, “advantaged”, is perceived as “…deserving, virtuous, respectable, attractive or likeable” (p. 73).  Another, “dependents”, is construed as deficient in capacity, e.g., skills and knowledge, or character, e.g., discipline and will.  Yet another, “deviants”, is portrayed as immoral, debauched and undeserving.  Accordingly, the advantaged are the primary beneficiaries of public welfare, followed at a marked distance by the dependents.  Deviants, on the other hand, are routinely excluded from public benefits, sanctioned and punished.  History has bestowed advantaged status on capitalists and relegated dependent and deviant status to the poor.

Dropping in now on the chapter entitled Social Darwinism in America, i.e., the early 1800’s, income disparities were widening, a handful of capitalists were becoming exceedingly rich while many lived in destitution.  Darwin’s precepts regarding natural order were correlated to the human condition by such men as Herbert Spencer and William Sumner, James Hill, John Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie (Hofstadter, R., 1992).  Having established the basis that humans were variously endowed, social Darwinists then saw fit to apply the notions to the economic situation.

They created the story that competition of the market place was the setting for a human enactment of the survival of the fittest.  The struggle to survive was won through the accumulation of capital.  Where strength ensured survival in nature, human virtue ensured survival in the market.

This association proved highly fortuitous for capitalists, whose extraordinary wealth was becoming difficult to defend in a country defined by equal opportunity and democracy.  Not only did they declare that they were the fittest, they claimed they had “…superior ability, foresight and adaptability…” which enabled their remarkable success (Hofstadter, p. 45).  These self-made men were, in the truest sense, self-made.

But what of the destitute?  This story becomes complete only through the elucidation of its entire cast, and the poor are critical, if not active, actors.  On the conundrum of poverty amid growing wealth, Social Darwinism came to the rescue.  Social Darwinism claimed that business competition was natural law, and as such was inviolate.  If individuals were disadvantaged as the market’s natural process unfolded, it was a necessary and allowable, if not saddening, consequence.   In fact, they asserted, all individuals, through diligence and thrift, could achieve pecuniary success.  So, they encouraged patience, hard work and persistence.

Some, however, were not quite so magnanimous in their evaluation of the poor.  Survival of the fittest required inequalities and as such negated equality and natural rights.  These people asserted that there was a reason for the natural selection of the poor out of the market, i.e., deviant individual characteristics.  “They, the poor, are unfit and should be eliminated.  The whole effort of nature is to get rid of such, to clear the world of them, and make room for better.  If they are sufficiently complete to live, they do live, and it is well that they should live.  If they are not sufficiently complete to live, they die, and it is best that they should die.” (Spencer, 1850, cited in Hofstadter, 1992).

Ingram and Schneider (1993) claim that the social constructs of advantaged and deviants have reified in American society.  Certainly, this assertion bears out in the case of capitalists and poor.  A mantra embedded into the public psyche is that investing in the rich is paramount for achieving national objectives.  Hence, their interests, being synonymous with the public interest, are endowed with noble repute.  Their motives are beyond doubt, their advantages undisputed, their acceptance of public welfare necessary.

Other mantras are reserved for American poor (Gans, 1995).  They are morally deficient.  They are lazy, freeloaders and contemptuous of society.  They are the underclass, under all other classes, and as such, outside society.  They, therefore, are undeserving.  “…indigence is produced not by the social or economic system, but by the deviance of the poor.  The necessary punishment for deviance is poverty” (Backer, 1993).

A whole discourse of illogic has been developed around the poor.  The characteristics, so long reinforced, have reified and transformed into the casual mechanisms of poverty, i.e., the victims have morphed into the perpetrators (Gans, 1995).  Now, the mantras proclaimed by many are that moral deficiency generates poverty, laziness causes unemployment, welfare recipients create poverty. 

In this way, the social constructs have obfuscated the true causes of poverty, and worse, created a political climate in which the poor can safely be punished for the ills others perceive them to bear upon society.  Examples of anti-poor sentiment encased in public policy discourse include desexing and segregation recommendations in 1912; sterilization, unabated in some states till the 1970s; and Spiro Agnew’s strategy of isolating the poor in rural towns in 1974.  To these are added those policies that capitalized on the plight of the poor for the advantage of others, namely the 1949 U.S. Housing Act, and those that aim to end welfare by systematically moving people out of the system, i.e., The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996.

It is not surprising then that such oxymorons as these exist: 1) unemployed poor people are perceived as reprehensible, even though involuntary unemployment sustained by economic policies are not seen as blameworthy; 2) the unemployed poor are held in disdain while the unemployed wealthy are celebrated; 3) the poor receiving welfare are accused of dependency and deviancy while those not labeled as such enjoy welfare free from public disclosure and judgment, e.g., students receiving public financial aide, homeowners receiving tax breaks, corporations receiving tax breaks and subsidies, civil servants receiving pay for unproductive work and workers employed by military bases kept open exclusively for employment purposes.

David & Goliath: The People & Walmart

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiNwIK9t1Lw&feature=player_embedded&ytsession=rpFduG5sOJ570DcRXYtT8IZD1UnTrgWxeo25VaLOw4MB6h93t9hv-bANHDZrqWR0q_W5NdXZU9V3TOtmrhtc6XSScEabo9XaT2kNg_MqfA_mOxer6zFaX1uffQv6wdLI_nJ7D4R1t7aYQGozH-Y4VIL5lO7GC0eyzk2DEMzLawah7o-gHrjdvsqERwLiKWkYBuhbGTI7PFw8gOM0XTi0ZJ5D4pnJNLAh9ERE09VwCoY

This video is just the tip of the iceberg.
  It describes the horrible working conditions
  of people who work for Walmart, and
  the abusive treatment they endure every day.

When you watch this video, I encourage you -
  don't see the color of their skin or their language
  or the country in which they live.

Focusing on our differences is divisive,
  hurtful to all of us, and worse -
  it gives today's robber barons more power
  to continue stealing from us and
  mutilating our economies and societies.

Please - just focus on what these people -
  our brothers and sisters -
  are sharing about their experience.

And, if you are stirred by their stories,
  take action - sign the letter,
  stop shopping at Walmart,
  tell others,
  learn more about the insidious and deceitful strategies
  Walmart uses to make a profit off of all of us.

There is another video from which you can learn even more.
  It's called, 'Walmart: The High Cost of Low Prices'.
  URL http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3836296181471292925

We are David.
  Monoliths like Walmart are Goliath.
  All of us who know this story
  know that David defeated Goliath.

However, none of us has the money or power
  to fight these marauding giants alone.

We must stand together.
  In our union, we are strong.
  Standing hand in hand, we can win this war
  of the 1% against the rest of us.

A new blog Kristen Magis Spirit Walk

I have decided to start a new blog.  In this new blog, I will share poetry and prose about my walk in this life as a spirit embodied, and with spirit.  The URL is KristeneMagisSpiritWalk.blogspot.com
Please note the 'e' after my first name.  It's a typo and I'm not tech savy enough to figure out how to fix it/1
I will continue this blog as well.
I hope to see you all in both spaces!
my best
Kristen

Breaking the Chains of Consumerism

Standing in the middle of the square,

I can’t hold it in anymore…

‘Wake up!  Wake up!’ I shout.

See the marionettes into which we have been made!

See the avarice -

etched in our psyches,

protected in our constitution,

mutated into an insatiable desire for

more!

What is the difference, say you, between

avarice and greed?

And what of want and need?

Can we tell the difference?

Or have our minds been so profoundly shaped

by this structured consumer economy

that we can no longer see

that this economy,

in fact,

is

intentionally structured, engineered?

That we, and our desire to buy,

are the products of the craft and guile

of those who have and want ever more?

Sustenance

an alternative to insatiable desire.

Learning to recognize the difference

between want and need;

Striving to break the chains

of the toxic addiction to buy, to own, to desire.

Endeavoring to feel, once again,

immense gratitude

for having enough

food, clean water, shelter,

love.

Sustenance

Thankfulness for the opportunity

to love, to share, to build community,

to be, simply,

the extraordinary beings we were created to be.

Maiden in Shining White Armor

She leaned against the window ledge,
  stars dancing in her eyes,
  a slight smile warming her face.

But, she did not see the flowering tree
  at her window.

She was far away
  in a dream induced by the now familiar
  theme of the Disney movie...

She was a beautiful maiden,
  flowers in her hair,
  a sparkling satin gown
  wrapping her flawless body.

A knight stood on her doorstep,
  handsome and tall,
  his countenance exuding a cool
  self-assurance that all enemies
  would quickly be vanquished.

'Hello Anne.'
'Anne?  Uhhh, hello?'

'What is that annoying voice?' she wondered.

Confused, she gazed at her knight
  and slowly realized he wasn't wearing
  shining white armor.
  He wasn't tall and handsome and gallant.
  And the irritating voice was his.

'Uhhh, hi Anne,' he said.
'Is your sister home?'

Relieved that this fake knight
  did not come for her, but for
  her unfortunate sister, Anne
  ushered him forth.

Returning to her windowsill,
  she once again fell into the dream
  of how she would meet her knight
  and he would sweep her away,
  rescuing her from all harm,
  caring for all her needs
  and loving her every day for the rest
  of her life...

'Anne!  Are you listening?'
'You're on the blue team.  Get over there!'

Feeling awkward in her new ugly uniform,
  Anne trotted over to her teammates, such as they were.
  Girls only.
  'Girls can't play sports,' she thought with disdain.
  'What am I doing out here?  I could be trying
  on that new dress.  I bet Micha would notice me then!'

'Can you please tell the class your answer to this math question, Anne?'
'Ummm, I don't get it teacher', she whispered,
  wishing she could sink into her desk,
  never to be seen again.

'Anyone knows girls aren't good at math,' she thought
  in her own defense.
  'Why does he have to pick on me like that?  He could
  just ask one of the boys.  They know the answer.'

The school dances, the football games, lunches,
  parties...
  they all were about finding her knight.
  She knew he was out there.
  She had dreamed of him her entire life.

Now, after 18 years she was realizing
  that he was not at this school, and
  had hopes that he would be found at college.

He would be more mature than these high school boys.
  He'd have a career and be ready to make good money.
  'And, we'll marry...just like it's supposed to be,' she cooed.

And then she found a career path, quite by accident really,
  as her real reason for going to college was to find her man.
  But, she stumbled upon this career path.

She became interested in school, was elated
  to see she could get good grades in difficult subjects,
  could, for the first time in her life, see herself
  doing something important,
  being successful,
  caring for herself.

Such a thought that was...
  that she could actually care for herself?!

'Dad!', she called on her trip home.
  'Dad!  Guess what?!  I am going to have a career!'

'My daughter.  How I love you' her father smiled.
  I am happy you are getting skills in college.
  You may need to use them if something ever happens
  to your husband.'

Stunned by her father's words,
  and his complete lack of faith in her,
  Anne's newfound sense of self and confidence
  faltered.  If her own father didn't believe in her,
  who would?

'I'm just fooling myself,' she thought.
  'I can't do it.  He's right.  I need help.'

A lifetime later,
marriage, children...

Anne leaned against the windowsill.
  There never was a Knight in Shining White Armor.
  She knew that now.

And despite caring for her children and her self
  for so many years,
  she still felt the chilling fear
  of not being able to care for herself.

She found herself,
  still, waiting to be rescued,
  still, not believing in her self,
  still, frightened about her uncertain future...

And then one day,
  she looked around.
  Seeing no one but herself,
  she finally, finally after all these years,
  realized that it was she who must wear the armor,
  she who must rescue herself,
  and she who must create a future for herself.

The story had been told all wrong.
  It was not the story of the Knight in Shining White Armor
  saving the beautiful Maiden.

It was the story of the Maiden earning the Shining White Armor
  by courageously facing life
  with whatever she had at her command,
  despite her fears and her self-doubt
  and her falllibilities.

The story was about her finding forgiveness
  for all those who taught her that she
  was incapable and insufficient and forever needy.

It was about trying to instill in her own daughter
  a sense of self-worth and self-love and self-belief
  that could fortify her during all her life's pursuits.

It was about assuring her sons
  that they did not have to single-handedly bear the burden
  of providing in life;
  that they could lay down the oppressive armor;
  that the women in their lives (including their daughters)
  didn't need rescuing,
  could be valuable partners,
  could help make a life.

And, it was about suggesting to her children that
  they might even bury the Shining White Armor,
  and just allow themselves and their own children
  to blossom into the beings
  they were supposed to be.

Poverty and Wealth

Poverty
  What is it?

There is a family that was recently relocated from a shack on stilts
  to a new apartment with a bathroom and a kitchen.

But, they don't know how to use the toilet...
  and they don't have the income to pay for the new bills,
  water, electricity, mortgage...

And, they haven't figured out how to use the toilet...

Poverty

There is a woman that loads her bicycle with vegetables
  every day
  and rides the 3 kilometers to the city center
  where she lays her produce neatly on the ground
  and waits for passersby to purchase it.

At dusk, she once again boards her bicycle
  and rides the 3 kilometers home
  to tend the fields, feed the children,
  sweep the dirt floors,
  and prepare for tomorrow's journey.

Poverty

There is a woman who lost everything the day
  she learned of her breast cancer.
  Nightmares later, she found herself in a
  resettlement neighborhood,
  living as one of the 'poorest of the poor'.

Poverty

But that family who didn't know how to use a toilet

  shared their one room apartment with
  a homeless family.

And the woman on the bicycle shared her bicycle
  on weekends with a neighbor who had no other way
  to get to the city.

Wealth

And the woman who lost everything to cancer
  organized the 'poorest of the poor' to create a fund
  for a single mother who was starving.

She taught the neighborhood children to
  care for the cleanliness of the streets.

She inspired the neighbors to save what little cash they have
  and to invest in community development projects
  or to share with those less fortunate than themselves.

The little girl that learned to keep the streets clean
  taught a grown woman about environmental protection.

And the 'poorest of the poor' children saved their pennies
  to share with a child who had nothing...

Wealth

My God, we in the states have gotten so lost!

While children starve,
  we, daily, throw away food.

While people struggle to get their produce to town,
  we buy a second and a third car.

While people live on the streets or in shacks on stilts,
  we covet more square footage and a view.

Poverty

While children and elderly are swept away
  in flooding,
  we ignore how our actions create climate change.

Poverty

While families die in wars to extract yet more oil
  from an oil-depleted earth,
  we drive two blocks to the store.

This, my friends, is our poverty.

It is poverty of spirit.
  It creates wreckage in peoples' lives -
  people who we've never even seen!
  It kills and starves and maims and destroys.
  We only need to look and we will see.

We hold so much of the answer, you know.
  We, who by fortune of birth, find ourselves living
  in the richest country in the world.

Because of our relative wealth,
  we can make important changes to breath life
  into this planet and show compassion for all.

Creating wealth

The little girl from the 'poorest of the poor'
  could find a way
  to help her neighbor.

Creating Wealth

The woman who lost everything to breast cancer
  keeps finding ways to help.

Creating Wealth

We can join this movement of people who reach beyond themselves
  into the community of humankind.

We can contribute.
  We must contribute.
  And in breathing hope into life for others,
  we regain our own wealth of spirit
  and escape, ourselves, from poverty.

Create Wealth

Than Lan: A New Friend for you, Alakai!

Than Lan - My Vietnamese Friend and Roommate

This is Than Lan (pronounced Tawn Lawn).

She moved in with me several months back.

Every evening, she makes the same trek across my walls and ceiling.

One night, she posed for me...hanging upside down on the ceiling,

so that I could take her picture and send it to my lovely

3 year-old grandson, Alakai.

Alakai, 

Than Lan lives on top of my dresser.

She goes into my bathroom to drink water,

and she eats all the bugs in my room.

Thanks to her, I have no bugs in my room!

So, now she goes outside to catch her food.

She has funny, fat fingers that she uses to hold on to the ceiling,

so she can hang upside down.

In this picture, she is looking at you and saying,

'Hi Alakai!  I'm your new friend!'

I love you dearly, my sweet grandson!

Nanna

Gandalf's Wisdom for the Frodo in Us All

You can find wisdom anywhere...
  if you are watching for it.

Last night, I was watching the Lord of the Rings.
  In the moment that Frodo realizes he must travel
  a very dangerous road, he tells Gandalf that
  he wished he had never seen the ring,
  and that he was back in the safety of his home.

Gandalf looked at him with compassion and said,
  'Whether to live in these times
   is not for us to decide.
   All we have to decide is
   what we will do with the time
   that is given us.'

I was profoundly affected by these words,
  for I often feel so powerless and small
  in the face of the avenging god, Climate Change.

I find myself wishing that it was 1970 again,
  and that I was safe at home, climbing trees
  and building forts.

Or, I try to ignore what is happening outside my door
  and go about life 'as usual'.

As if I can ignore
  the shifting of the earth beneath my feet;

As if I can pretend
  the earth
  is not burning up our food,
  is not flooding our homes,
  is not killing people with its murderous heat...

I, like Frodo,
  want desperately for things to
  NOT
  be as they are.

But, Gandalf speaks to us all
  when he says
  it was not for us to decide to be here
  at this moment in time,
  but that it is for us to decide
  just what we will do with the time
  we have been given.

And, I wonder...
  Is it possible that we are here
  at this turning point in the history of humanity
  precisely
  because we are the ones that
  CAN
  do something about the crisis?

Is it possible that we are uniquely equipped
  to make this harsh and frightening journey
  even though we feel small and insignificant?

Is it possible that regular people like you and I
  hold, in our hearts, the answers
  to this terrible crisis?

Is it possible that, like Frodo,
  we just have to set foot upon this path
  and trust that, somehow, someway,
  we can find our way through it?

'Collateral Damage' and the Hidden Meaning of Language

Being a writer, I take great interest in words,
  what they mean and how they are used.
  Words, quite literally, create the reality that we see.

Words are tricky though.
  They can be used in different ways
  and with different purposes.

They can be used to create any kind of reality.
  But always, they are used for a purpose.
  And that purpose is not always innocent or honest.

Sometimes, words are used to mislead, or to misconstrue
  the way we define reality.

I take issue when the
  intentional mis-construction of words hurts people.

There are a couple of terms that I would like to explore here.

The first is a term created by the military.
  It is 'collateral damage'.
  The term sounds benign and harmless.
  It triggers no emotional response in the listener.
  It really just sounds like something got broken.
  Oh well.  Things get broken all the time.
  Whatever it was can be fixed or replaced.

There is another term, 'casualties of war'.
  More of us are familiar with this term,
  at least those of us old enough to remember the Vietnam War
  (which incidentally is called the 'American War' here in Viet Nam).

We know 'casualty of war' means someone died.
  We don't know if it was the enemy or a civilian
  or one of 'our own'.
  But, we know someone died.
  Still, it doesn't create much of a stir in our hearts.

How about this term, 'Your brother was killed.'
  Or this one, 'An innocent child was murdered.'
  How does your heart respond to these words?

When you hear the words, 'collateral damage' next,
  know that what's really being said is,
  'Someone's brother, or father, or sister or daughter was killed'.

And, does it really matter if it was the enemy that killed her
  or 'friendly fire' (someone on our side) who killed her???
  She's dead.
  And that is final.

When words are used by those in authority positions to
  change how we perceive reality,
  it is called 'propaganda',
  which is defined in the dictionary as
  'deceptive or distorted information that is systematically spread'.

And why would they do that?
  Because those creating the distortion want to change
  how we 'see', and ultimately respond to,
  events that are happening in our lives.

After all, you might respond differently if you heard
  'Your son was murdered.'
  than if you heard there was 'collateral damage'.

And, I haven't even gotten to the terms that are
  particularly bothersome to me.
  I'll cover those in a later post.

Meanwhile, listen carefully to the news reports.
  Demystify strange terms like 'collateral damage'.
  Discern for yourself what is really being said.
  And allow your heart to respond to the real information.

Then, we shall hear the people speak.

the Heat Index

A matter of extreme importance to me...
the heat and humidity outside.

As I have such a sensitivity to heat and humidity, I have been doing a bit of research. And, in that research I learned about the Heat Index, which is a combination of the temperature and humidity. As the temperature and % humidity increase, the Heat Index value increases. So, there is a chart of the Heat Index. It lists the combined values for temperature and humidity and then categorizes these values along four dimensions regarding the relative safety of being outside. The dimensions are 'Caution', 'Extreme Caution', 'Danger' and 'Extreme Danger'. So much for the amateur meteorology lesson.

Here in Viet Nam, we have been lingering in the 'Extreme Danger' zone for the better part of the last two months. Combine the 'Extreme Danger' of going outside with my extreme sensitivity to heat/humidity and I now understand why I keep ending up on a gurney at the doctor's office getting an IV. What is shocking about this is that I am an otherwise very healthy woman!

So, finally the temperatures have dropped this week. Now, we are only in the low 90s F/30s C with 80 humidity. This means that we also have finally left the 'Extreme Danger' zone in which we have been lingering these last months. Now, we are only in the 'Danger' zone.

Why do I spend time talking about such an apparently trivial subject? Simply put - this is our future, my friends.

I am learning from first hand experience that climate change is deadly...and it is affecting us all. Of course, the frail, elderly, sick and poor will be the first to succumb to the impacts of climate change. But, we all are in danger, even those of us who are healthy and strong or who can tolerate higher temperatures and humidity.

So, I was thinking - in honor of those most seriously impacted by climate change, perhaps we all could change just one thing that we do today that contributes to the problem, like driving when we can walk, or turning off unnecessary lights and techno toys, or eating fruits and vegys that are from our region...

Some say these small things can not change the problem...that bigger changes are required. I agree that bigger changes are needed. But, I also believe we all can make valuable contributions. Just imagine if all the people in the US today chose to walk instead of driving? How much less pollution would we put into the air????

We CAN make a difference!!!

Contemplating Eating

Been thinking lately about eating.  It's been a month now, and my diet stays largely the same every day.  I eat three bowls of soup a day, rice, tofu, some small shrimp, vegys and occasionally meat wrapped in cabbage.  The food is very good and I always have my fill, so I am not complaining.  But, it has set me to thinking.
Why always the same food, for every meal, every day?  In part, this is due to the fact that I'm trying to avoid meat.  In part, it is the food that is available.  Given unrestricted resources, I could venture into the city to buy food in more variety, but unrestricted resources are not a part of this circumstance.
I noticed the last couple of weeks a strange feeling in my stomach.  I am constantly hungry, even after a full meal.

Minions NOT. Guardians of Life are We

Today, for the first time in two weeks,
  the heat index dropped just below the 'Extreme Danger' zone.
  Now, it's just plain dangerous to go outside.

What have I to say to that?
  I, a writer, am left without words.
  But not for long! :)

2/3 of the U.S. bakes in the hot, dry sun,
  suffering heat matching that in Viet Nam,
  watching as the nation's food source burns and withers.

If this is not the vicious god, Climate Change, unleashing Gia's fury,
  then what is it,
  exactly???

But, let's not let a political debate contrived by those profiting from earth's destruction
  stop our conversation,
  for it is through dialogue that we will find our way through this.

It is we, the people, who are suffering under this burden.
  Yes, the wealthy will suffer too.
  Though their ownership of virtually all the resources
  will provide them temporary protection, it is at best - temporary.

When we are all gone, the water supply will disappear.
  Food will no longer cover the face of this earth.
  We will no longer be here to cater to the will of the plutocrats.
  No, they cannot hide long from the ravages of climate change.

But wait, this was not to be a political discussion.
  I'm sorry, but my anger sometimes overcomes my sense of rationality
   or my desire to act from a place of wisdom.
  The insanity of this situation is often more than I can comprehend.

This growing sense of despair, however, can be crippling.
  So overwhelmed by the shear vastness of this unstoppable beast are we,
  that we give up, turn our head, harden our hearts and close our eyes.

But this, my friends, is not who we were meant to be.

  It is not the fulfillment of the loving, compassionate, creative force

  that lies within our souls.

  Nor is it a reflection of the warrior, fueled by honor,

  that steps onto battlefields mined with explosives

  to fight for life.

OK – so most of us are not world leaders.

  We are not the plutocrats.

  We do not see ourselves as leaders.

  And we certainly do not understand this god,

  Climate Change.

But, we also are not the minions of the wealthy.

  We are not mindless, faceless consumers.

  We are not the masses that must be silenced.

No, we are strong.

  We have a voice.

  We have each other.

And, we have a vision.

  A vision for ourselves

  and for our children and generations beyond.

A vision of an earth bountiful in food and water.

  A vision of a people all the colors of the world,

  living in peace,

  sharing the resources,

  learning from each other,

  celebrating this precious life.

And why not?

We need now a vision

  more than we have in a very long time.

  

We need now a vision that transcends the devastation facing us.

  We need now a vision that will carry us forward into a future

  that we will design, for which we will offer our selves and our resources,

  a future which can come to pass

  Only

  if we, together, claim it.

Let this vision be audacious, bold and strong.

  Let us as warriors don our armor

  and step courageously and resolutely into battle,

  the battle not just for our lives,

  but for all life.

Now is the moment to which we all have been called.

Let us take our places as the stewards and guardians of life.

The Creatures: Part I...rerun

Some time back, I wrote this piece.  Then, as life would have it, I got caught up in my journey here in Viet Nam, leaving the next chapter unwritten.  I have some time now, so decided to see where this story might flow.  So, I'm republishing the first chapter here to be followed by chapter II.
--------------------

This is a story of creatures, seemingly quite small, that live below the surface of the water, a stream it seems.  These water creatures know this of life, ’Hold on to the giant boulders, always.’  Born, hold on, die.  And the generations pass.

Until one day, a creature is born who asks, 'Why? 'Why do we hold on?'  To this, none can find an answer.  This is, quite simply, a fact of life.  'It just is.  That's all,' state the elders.  And, they return to their business of holding on.

The one cannot find solace in this answer.  'But, why?' she asks.  They glance at her and smile knowingly.  'She is young,' they chortle.  'The young ask such silly questions.'  And they return their attentions to the most pressing of community issues.

Paid no heed by the others, she gazes up into the heavens.  There she sees familiar patterns on the liquid sky, the sparkles that dance in the light and are taken by the dark.  ‘Where do the sparkles go, really?’ she wonders.  ‘Why does the dark take them?’

The story, as told by the elders, is that there is an eternal war between the dark and the light, each stealing the sparkles in turn, when the other is sleeping.  One day, it is told, the dark will steal the sparkles and hide them where the light can never again find them.

On this triumphant day, a huge celebration is planned.  It will be the day of the creatures’ liberation from the beasts with the gaping maws that steal the young and swallow them whole.  The beasts with the gaping maws never come in the dark.  It is said that their spirits are taken by the dark along with the sparkles.

 Many believe the sparkles are the spirits of the great beasts.  No one knows for sure, but the elders seem quite certain.  And no one questions the elders, except the one.

She knows better, has been told to stay quiet, has been taught the ways along with all the other young.  But, the questions still come, begging for answers.  She senses there is more. 

Like the sparkles, the questions dance in her mind.  ‘There is more.  There is more.  But, what is it?’  ‘Why do the dark and light fight?’  ‘Where does the dark take the sparkles?’  ‘If the dark does hide the sparkles forever, will the beasts with the gaping maws really finally leave us and stop taking our young?’ 

And the question that sparkles more brightly than any other…  ‘If they leave, can we let go?’

All these questions, she asked the elders.  Their patience waning, they nevertheless answered, believing deeply in their veneered role of passing wisdom to the young and saving all from the gaping maws of the beasts.  But, when she asked that question, when she asked if they could let go, the elders flew into a rage.

‘Never!’ they screamed as one.  ‘Never shall you let go!’  ‘Never speak those words again!  And never, never let go!’

The others looked on in shock, holding more tightly to their rocks, as if the question itself would pry them from their fast hold on life and all that is.  There was a deep quiet that day.  The elders gathered closely, whispering and occasionally glancing back at her, with, it seemed, a mix of horror and disgust and concern.

Alone, hugging her rock, feeling once again like she was different, didn’t belong.  ‘Why don’t the others wonder these things?  Is there something wrong with me?  I am young. They are old and wise.  I am one.  They are many.  It is me.  There is something wrong with me.  Why can’t I be more like them?  Why can’t I just be happy with holding on?  Why must these questions steal my thoughts?  What are the answers?!’

And quietly, in the back of her mind, it emerges again, ‘What would happen if I let go?’

The questions hung on as tenaciously as did the creatures to their rocks.  Despite, or perhaps because of, the increasing rancor of the elders, the questions gained strength, became alive.  And, in their persistence, they bore yet more questions, leading ultimately to those forbidden from the mouths of all.  

‘Are the elders wrong?  Is the wisdom they teach untrue?  Is there, in fact, a different reality?’

Through the perpetual battle of dark and light, she watched.  As the great beasts with the gaping maws stole the young and those who could no longer hold on, she watched.  When the heavens shook under the pounding of the god’s fists, she watched.  And when the raging currents ripped even the strongest from their rocks and tossed them into the abyss, she watched.

Her questions, her inability to quiet them, and her persistence in asking slowly built a chasm between her and the others.  She held now to her own rock, separated from the community.  Even her own young had moved from her to the community, sensing her difference, confused by her questions, wanting security and friendship.  Wanting happiness for her young, she allowed their migration to the community and thanked the dark for hiding her tears. 

She accepted now her exclusion from the community.  The dark and light had come enough times that she knew her difference was real, and that she likely would never again be able to stand inside the community.  The chasm between her thoughts and theirs spread wider than the gaping maws of the beasts and seemed to grow with each passing light and dark.

She sought the quiet, the separation from what she had grown to recognize as the noise of the elders shaping the reality they wished others to see.  Their work never ended for new were always born and the world they wished to be quiet continued to shift and change, creating fear and requiring yet more efforts to pacify and maintain the creatures’ focus on the rocks.

Apart from the community, she heard her own voice more clearly.  She sought answers to the persistent questions inside her own being.  She learned to listen inside, to trust that perhaps answers could be found in the quiet of her own heart.  As the light and dark passed, so dawned a new understanding.  Yes, she was different.  But, that difference did not make her bad or defective.  It made her uniquely who she was.

And as she gazed at members of the community, she became aware that each had a unique sparkle.  That sparkle was dim for many, obscured more and more for those who experienced many passing light and darks.  But, it was strong in the young, bright, dancing, vibrating and pulsating like the sparkles in the heavens.  The young would look her way, recognizing the bright sparkle that surrounded her being, unaware of their own sparkle and fascinated by a connection they could neither name nor describe, but which they knew.  Often, she would hold their gaze and they would share a secret smile.  And then, noticed by the others, they would be pulled back within the fold, blocked from her view and taught by the elders.

She had grown to love herself in a way never possible in the community.  She came to believe that she was, in fact, good and that her uniqueness was not a curse, but a blessing.  And she relished the time to be with her self.  But still, there was an ache, a longing and a profound sense of sorrow that she could never reach far enough to span the chasm between herself and the community, that she could never again be a part of them.  At times, the aloneness consumed her.  Again, she thanked the dark for hiding her tears.

The Creatures: Part II

That she was different, she had finally come to accept, albeit with some trepidation.  The difference had been the source of much pain in her life.  For, it was not the difference of the rich and beautiful so emulated by young and old alike.  No, it was the difference of thought, the difference of voice, the unwillingness to ‘fit in’ and abide by the ‘rules’, and yes, even the audacity to ask who wrote the rules in the first place and what gave them the authority to do so.  This difference had earned her the ire not just of the elders, but of her companions.  It had led to the separation from her community and to the journey into her self.

The journey into self began with many battles and more tears as she relived the consequences she had suffered for being the ‘outsider’.  And through the tears, she came to realize that she had internalized the judgments of the others.  She had accepted the judgments and grown to see herself with derision and contempt.  In the dark, when even she couldn’t see the tears, she would curse the difference that was her.  But, she also knew there was no way to change.  This is who she was.

And, as she meditated she was visited by spirit guides who showed her visions; dreams of the lives past; visions of futures unfolding; visions of a world wherein she fit, where her difference was exactly what was needed.  She saw people of a different color and tongue beseeching her to join them, inviting her to step into the beyond.  

The spirits spoke with her, walked through the stars with her, showed her the heavens and the depths of the earth.  They danced with her, carried her on their backs, taught her to fly…  Then, one day they dissembled her, extracted the pain and rebuilt her from the remains.  The spirit guides were always by her side, in meditation and while awake, always reminding her that she was never alone, that she had a purpose and that it was time to step onto the path.

And then she remembered.  She remembered the vow she had made so many years past.  And she knew that every step of her life, all of it, had led to this moment.  It was time.  One last time, she gazed upon her young and her companions of old and smiled, assured that they would be okay.  And then, 

she let go.

Thinking Reality into Being

So, today my worst (current) nightmare became reality.

My air conditioner died.
  No more does it's sweet cool breath whisk the deadly heat from my skin.  It's only remaining viable function is to circulate warm, moist air.

I have been dreading this for some time,
   especially since I learned that

I was to be alone on campus for the month of July.

This is how the scenario played out in my imagination....
  The AC worked great until
    everyone was gone,
    the heat and humidity were absolutely unbearable,
    and on the weekend when the few remaining souls were nowhere to be found.

This is how it played out in reality...
  The AC worked great until
    everyone was gone,
    the heat and humidity are absolutely unbearable,
    and on the eve of the weekend when the few remaining souls are nowhere to be found.

Of course, aside from the panic this creates in my already melting body,
  I am pondering with interest that my fantasy materialized
  almost exactly as I had imagined it.

And then, I look back over a lifetime of such experiences...

I imagine it, think it
  and then, it exists.

Even now, I am living out dreams I've carried for many years.
  I'm doing development work in a developing country.
  I'm doing my favorite kind of work on my favorite topic.
  I'm working with an International Nongovernmental Organization
  And, I'm starting a new contract with the United Nations!

And this is just the beginning,
  Coincidence?
  I think not.
  I think, rather, synchronicity and active creation.

Now, I need to start imagining how the AC story ends...
   with a fixed air conditioner and me NOT sick!

in the image of God

I rode with Gia
  on the wind.

I saw the blighted earth,
  raw wounds, blackened ground, dead lakes.

And as I gazed, Gia could no more hold her fury.

Her scream turned to a roar, so loud that life stood still.
  Total, utter silence.
  The wind dared not blow.
  The rivers stopped running.
  Even the leaves upon the trees broke their dance.

In her beauty and majesty,
  light dancing off her countenance,
  Gia wept bitter tears for her children.

Children once so full of promise;
  now little more than whirling dervishes of greed and gluttony,
   spinning, spinning, spinning out of control,
  desecrating the sacred and leaving only destruction and destitution.

What happened to this creature made ‘in the image of God’?

How did we turn such a blind eye to the gift of life given us?

Can we, will we, dare we pull the veil and see
  the preciousness of this gift, life,
  and take the actions necessary to honor it?

Or will we
Just
Let
It
Pass?

Forgiveness

Forgiveness

For the fact that, though I try,

  I can not understand your culture, your ways, your beliefs.

For the fact that, despite my acknowledged ignorance of your ways,

  I still judge you.

For the fact that I allow myself to dwell on 

  preconceived notions of who you are and who you are supposed to be,

  rather than see you for who you really are.

For the accident of my birth that affords me clean water, food and shelter,

  even as you, out of sheer desperation, drink from fouled waters, 

  your only real choice being whether to die from thirst or 

  from the pestilence living in the brown water you bring to your lips.

For the sins of my nation’s leaders, 

  heinous, self-serving acts 

  shrouded in language of ‘freedom, democracy and “free” market’.

For the contribution of my self and my fellow Americans 

  to your plight, and for our total ignorance 

  of the impact of our actions on you.

Gia's Revenge

I’m trapped here in my room for the months of July and August. Actually, it started in late May when my body refused to comply with the ‘acclimatization program’ to which I was submitting it. So, all said, I will have lived primarily in my room for the better part of three to four months.

Get me not wrong.  ‘Living in my room’ means, quite literally, just that.  I cannot go outside for more than 15 minutes before my body starts sweating profusely.  Within 30-60 minutes, my heart is pounding, and I am drenched.  Much longer, and I start feeling dizzy.  Last Sunday, I stayed out for two hours and suffered heat exhaustion for the next two days.  So, yes, when I say ‘living in my room’, I do mean just that.

This circumstance was not one that I ever, ever considered in all my imaginings of how this journey might unfold.

‘No,’ my body said. 

‘I will not tolerate heat, nor humidity - period.’

‘And, while you ponder that, can you please infuse me with an IV drip

  as your little experiment has left me severely dehydrated.’

So, among the many blessings for which I give thanks, the air conditioner in my room ranks high, along with the bottled water filling the empty spaces on my floor.

Yet, here I sit under what I have to consider to be the ‘house arrest’ of those weakened by the heat by that notorious and merciless assassin, Climate Change. 

This god, Climate Change, was unleashed by Gia after years of gentle, but persistent warnings to her ungrateful, willfully ignorant, and self-indulgent children.  No longer can she withstand the continual and brutal assault.  No more patience has she for children run so afoul.  And, so she sends her god, Climate Change, not as a teacher, but as an assassin to cleanse the earth of that which soils the sacred gifts so freely given.

The god, Climate Change, is growing in force and impact.  It lays siege not just to the millions in developing countries who are hidden from view by the world’s wealthy, but now to millions in highly industrialized countries. 

Climate Change has no favorites.  The privileged position so favored by the highly industrialized countries does not shield them from the angry rejoinder of Gia to our arrogant and mindless destruction of the very forces she offered to protect us. 

Climate Change has many faces, severe drought, torrential rains, scorching heat, flash floods…  And, as only a god can, Climate Change dons those many faces simultaneously, inflicting sorrow and death across the globe with a litany of equally callous, yet always destructive assaults.

Make no mistake, Climate Change is not a political debate.  Climate Change IS a henchman, cloaked in black and carrying a broadsword dripping with blood.

My heart weeps with daily news of the devastation unleashed by this war god.

But, my heart is crushed by the unequal share of the brutality apportioned to those who had no part in unleashing this vicious god.  The poor and voiceless all round the globe, by definition, could not and cannot partake in the outrageous and arrogant behaviors that led to this debacle.  Yet, they remain the most vulnerable to Climate Change, the first to suffer the assaults of Climate Change, the least capable of withstanding the devastating blows, and the most likely to die.

My God, my God!

What have we done?!?

Standing for Gia and the People

There once was a man…
  Mind you, I mean it literally, a man.
  As we all know, women are not running the world
    so play a supporting role in this story, not the lead.

Anyway, there was a man.

This man suffered the fortune of being born
  into extravagant wealth.
  For that accident of birth, we can bear him no malice.

Through his youth,
  he did not experience hunger nor thirst nor, in fact, need of any kind.
  Of course, he had many wants -
  boats, techno toys, more variety from which to select, unlimited oil for his boat…

But, somewhere along the line
  he lost the capacity to discern between want and need.
  Or, perhaps
  he never learned the difference in the first place,
  having never really experienced need.

In his youth, this man was strong and virile,
  spawning children who as he, knew not of need,  but who,
  also as he, suffered from insatiable want.

But, forgive me.
  I have not given you the name of this man and his family.
   We shall call him Ubank Sovereign, Ubank for short.
   His family name is Plutocs.  The family is
   the US Plutocracy.

Together, this family celebrated their good fortune,
  new wealth,
  new power,
  new toys.
  So many reasons to celebrate.
  And celebrate they did,
   with feasts of such variety and enormity
   that there was always extra to be discarded.

And as the Ubanks before him,
  Ubank combined strategy, wile and cunning with his enormous wealth
   to accumulate yet more wealth.
  This, after all, is the US Plutocracy family dream,
   to accumulate wealth…all of it.

To his great delight, wealth generation came easily,
  for, as we all know, you can’t generate wealth without first having wealth,
  (wealth being defined as income above and beyond that required for basic sustenance).
  And, as he already owned the lion’s share of the wealth,
  well, quite frankly, it was (like) stealing food from a baby.

Of course, he made contributions to earn these immense rewards.
  To his credit we now have ‘forced obsolescence’,
    and a ‘throw away economy’,
    not to mention a thriving industry of waste removal, and yes,
    waste storage, what with the vast rivers moving downstream from his penthouse,
    and the oceans and sky at his behest,
    or should I say disposal?

But, his greatest accomplishment was the vast network of friendships
  he developed in a burg called Washing town.
  As required of any good relationship,
    he and his friends shared with each other
    in compassionate and enduring camaraderie.
  Nothing could break this (iron) triangle of friends.

Now, a few things happened in the course of Ubank's life
  that disturbed his otherwise unmitigated pleasure-taking,
   (or rent-seeking, which ever term suits you).
  and proved a lifelong irritant.
 What were these annoyances, you ask. Well, they were 
   obtaining resources to feed his family’s gluttonous appetites,
   and the pervasive whines from unwanted rabble gathered on his front steps.

He was brilliant in developing strategies to deal with the whining masses.
  ‘Manifest destiny’ moved many off his doorsteps and
    located them where he could no longer be bothered
    by their inexorable whining.
  Anointing avarice with moral and constitutional legitimacy
     busied the many who believed (!) they, too, could live as did he.

And, with his enormous wealth, he built ships of the sea and sky,
  and sailed to appropriate resources from heathens around the globe.
  His good and abiding friends in that burg, Washing town,
    lent their assistance to this noble cause through agreements with
    the folk of the Bretton Woods and other Ubanks around the globe.

Yet, all his sleepless nights and devoted work could not quiet
  the whining of the masses.
  Worse, the whining rose not just from his door steps,
     but increasingly from all corners of the world.

And out of the cacophony of ear splitting whining,
  there arose a voice,
    a voice that could be silenced neither with the pen of his Washing town friends,
    nor with the arms, that ironically, generated much of his wealth.

The voice shouted,
‘No more!’

‘No more shall you rape and pillage the poor and unpowerful!’

‘No more shall you steal the birthright of every human being
   to food and water and a livelihood and safety!’

‘No more shall your vile lies, depraved self glorification and extravagance
   feed on the human spirit and desecrate her mother Gia!’

'No more!' I say.

'No more!'
---------------------------
Though this piece is inspired by the plutocracy in the United States and it’s devastating effects on people and earth alike, it would be unfair to lay all the blame at their feet.  There are, in fact, in every society, those who amass untold wealth unto themselves and spend their lives (when they are not enjoying that wealth) implementing strategies to silence the voice of the people.  In all countries, there are wealthy and poor, not just in the USA.

Yet, we cannot avoid the fact that less than 20% of the world’s population in the USA and Europe consume 80% of the world’s resources.  And no, we do not have those resources in our own soil.  We steal them from others.

So, there needs be an accounting.

The earth, our mother Gia, is starting to exact that toll, even if we be in denial or engorging ourselves so that we can’t hear it.  The accounting has begun.

We are standing up…NOW.

The birthright of all human beings

 - food, water, a livelihood, freedom, safety,
   a world abundant in life and rich in blessings -

the birthright of ALL human beings.

NOW.

Fools or Heroes

The question arose, unbidden, in the dark-of-night sojourns of my sleepy mind.

Fools and heroes...
  Are they one and the same?
  Or, are they entirely different?
  Are they the opposite ends of a finite pole?
  Or, are they locations on a circle that has no poles, no beginnings, no ends?

Taking risks that any 'sane' person would 'know' were outlandish.
  Articulating dreams that stand in stark contrast to 'reality'.
  Standing by those dreams when everyone, everything, stands in the path of their realization.

Believing in the impossible.
  Seeing the unimaginable.
  Stepping into the unknown without protection.

A fool's errand?
  Or the makings of a hero?

If you stop to consider, regardless of whether we shall name this person
  fool or hero,
  the synergies are many.

So, what is it then, that marks a person
  a fool or hero?

Is it the outcome of the person's endeavors?
  If so, then we would add to the category of fool
  Aung San Suu Kyi, her years in prison, and a country still in desperate turmoil;
  Nelson Mandela, his numerous years in prison, and a country still ruled by the wealthy;
  Mahatma Gandhi, his self inflicted starvation to stop the fighting, and a country divided;
  The mothers of disappeared children in war torn countries who search endlessly...

Are these the ones we would relegate to the court of fools?
  Their visions weren't realized and they suffered greatly.
  Yet, few would consent to add their names to the court of fools.

So, if it is not the dreams nor the outcomes the person sought to realize,
  then, what is it?

Is it the actions taken, or the timing of those actions?
  To this, I submit a question...
  How can one possibly predict the many implications of one's actions?
  I assert that it is humanly impossible to know what ripples one will create with her actions,
  and that ultimately, the fool and the hero, have to act in semi-darkness.

So, fools and heroes alike,
  step into the unknown,
  take action based on a vision,
  and know not what may come.

Some are lucky in that their actions mingle with the currents of humanity
  to result in changes across the generations.
  The M15 popular uprising in Spain is living out Gandhi's dream of nonviolent demonstrations.
  Like M15, social movements across the globe recite the words and vision of Gandhi.
  He could not stop his country from fighting, but he has inspired generations.

Some are unlucky in that their courageous endeavors go unnoticed, or are silenced
  by those more powerful than themselves.
  Mothers are still searching. Many will never find their children.

But, they are still searching.
  They are still searching.
  Be they our fools?

To be a hero or a fool takes vision, courage, the audacity to believe one can make a difference.
  This, mind you, is not a fairy tale.
  The journey is never easy, and many times stretches beyond the person's life.
  There are not always 'happily ever after' endings.
  And the 'right' do not always vanquish the 'wrong'.

Yet, some will venture forth
  on a fool's errand or a heroe's journey.

And, at day's end,
  who are we to judge?

For while we debate and pronounce our judgments,
  fools and heroes
  are creating our world.

Heroes and Fools...Let's We be It

I started watching the news again
  after a 4-year hiatus.

I once had a bumper sticker that read,

  ‘If you’re not outraged, you aren’t paying attention.’

Only, I had paid so much attention
  that each day, I wept
  and struggled under a growing sense of
  ineptness, inability, and smallness
  in the face of so many seemingly intractable problems.

So, I retreated to a place of quiet,
  shutting out the world, and
  listening only to the quiet voices
  inside me.

In my cocoon of self-imposed abstinence from humankind’s vagaries,
  I found solace and peace, quiet and insight,
  images that seemed to verge on wisdom.

In that space, I learned to trust myself,
  the spirits that guide and watch over me,
  and the currents that flow through our lives.

Yet, what is real wisdom if not epiphanies
  rising from the ashes of failure,
  born of sorrow and
  forged in destitution?

No, I could lay no claim to wisdom
  if all I could do was to
  pronounce judgment from the safety of my cocoon.

We have botched it up, my friends.
  We were given a precious gift
  and we slandered and desecrated it.

But, even from the depths of my darkest despair,
  there calls forth a vision, a belief,
  that it is not over.

It is not over.

While we breath,
  and with every breath we take,
  there is another opportunity
  to shed the straightjacket of complacency,
  to allow our blood to fill with outrage,
  and to decide just what we can do
  to make change.

Each day,
  with every breath,
  each one of us.

And, in our valiant efforts to
  right the wrongs
  and breath life into this earth and our fellow beings,
  we will earn the wisdom forged
  of real, hands-dirty, blackened-eye living.

Let’s we be the heroes and the fools.

Synchronicity & Hope

I am struck by a strange and wonderful experience of late.

  I have written many poems on this blog in the last months.

  Usually, just a few people read the posts...my family and friends.

But, recently something happened.

  For some reason that I can not fathom,

  one of my poems caught fire.

Just two weeks after writing it, 

  more than 100 people had read it.

  I didn't say anything as I didn't want to bias

  what people read when they visited my blog (that's the researcher in me!).

  I wanted just to observe and see how this evolved.

But, now it is 3 1/2 weeks since I wrote it

  and the results are so interesting that I decided to comment.

  This morning I checked and 227 people have read this one poem?!

  Most people are not stopping to read the other poems,

  so I surmise they are visiting my blog specifically to read this one poem.

No one has commented on the poem,

  so I remain 'in the dark' about who is reading it

  and why.

But, one thing is sure;

  this one poem has attracted significant interest.

What's funny is that I wouldn't even count this poem as my best,

  yet, it is the one that seems to be making an impact on life…

  which leads me to the title of this piece, 

  and the contemplation this experience inspires for me.

The ideas I share next arise from my (limited) understanding of lessons from the New Physics.

    I believe that at an energetic level, everything -- all of life -- is connected.  If you were looking at the earth from the vantage point of the gods, you would see fields of energy spreading across the globe.  These energy fields contain an imprint or knowledge or spirit that affects all those who touch the field. 

    With this idea, you can explain simultaneous inventions at different points on the globe without shared communication.  We have many examples of that throughout human history.

Anyway,

  we are not gods, so our vantage point is ‘from the ground’.

  We mostly see what is directly in front of us.

  We have no way of knowing, must less understanding,

  how our actions fit into the vast energetic fields of life.

  So, we can’t possibly predict all the implications of our actions.

  I spoke of this quandary in my poem, ‘Fools or Heroes’.

In my own life, I have many stories of circumstances that had outcomes

  far different from those I had anticipated or even intended.

 

In one case, I found myself in a hotel room preparing to attend a meeting.

  I almost chose not to go to the meeting as I felt I had nothing to offer,

  and that my participation wouldn’t be beneficial.

  I was feeling particularly ‘small’.

  I finally decided to go and make whatever contribution I could.

  Several months later, I learned that

  my recommendation had been incorporated into a major international agreement,

  and is now guiding the work of many people around the world!

This is just one, rather extreme, example.

  But, it demonstrates my idea.

 

First, you never can know the full results of your actions.

  We are earthbound creatures and our perspective is limited.

  Second, whether we can see it or not,

  our actions might be part of a bigger energetic field,

  a force that is guiding human development and evolution.

I believe we are not asked to have the perspective of the gods.

  Rather, we are challenged to understand as much as we can.

  And then, we are challenged to take a risk to offer what we can.

We are to toss the pebble – ourselves - into the pond.

  Then, we watch.  We observe the ripples that our pebble caused.

  We learn whatever we can from our observations.

  And then, we act again based on our best knowledge and intuition and trust.

In this way, each of us can have an impact.

  Each of us can make our own unique contribution to life.

  Each of us can make a difference, make this world better.

This does, however, challenge us to trust that,

  perhaps we are part of something bigger.

  And that in order for us to develop and evolve as humankind,

  each and every one of us must find the courage to make whatever contribution we can,

  even when we feel small and insignificant.

There is synchronicity in life.

  Things, people, thoughts…are connected.

  Each action, no matter how small, adds up to something bigger.

We are part of something great and wonderful – life.

  And our life force is in trouble.

  Our planet is in trouble.

 

We are not small and insignificant.

  Rather, we all matter; we all count.

  So, we each make our own unique contribution.

  Our contributions work in sync with the contributions of others

  and together, we co-create and nurture the force that is life.

Now is not the time to give up and lose hope.

  Now is the time to discover that

  we are the hope!