POLITICAL POEM: Fighting Exclusively

It was his thing
Fighting exclusively
Battles he could win
His crowning I deal
Never finding himself
On-the-cide of losers
Whirled why’d
Naught ails
But win
Filling his sales
Whatever
He could bye
A captain of destiny
In habiting the same owed ship
Where awe is lost
Save hope
For another class

The modern conservative is engaged in man's oldest exercise in moral philosophy: the search for a moral justification for selfishness -- John Kenneth Galbraith POLITICAL BUTTONTake any conservative position on a social or economic issue and boil away all the rhetoric and what you have left is 'I got mine, screw you' -- Justin Rosario POLITICAL BUTTONThis poem is about doing most anything to win, and where pragmatism provides cover for sociopathy.  What one will not do, that sacred “NO”, defines the boundaries and character of one’s ethical system and ultimate values.  Without “no,” there is only sociopathy, boundless amorality.  This is synonymous with “winning is everything.”  The ability to lose, suffering loss, making sacrifices for a greater good, is at the heart of any mature system of values.  This is not saying that suffering is intrinsically good, but some suffering is a necessary part of any process which seeks to trade up to greater goods.   Our capitalistic culture provides easy cover for amorality, a mysterious “invisible hand” that will turn our selfishness, shortsightedness, and greed into durable goods.  This makes nonsense of literally any system of ethics and human values.  Capitalism is a meat-grinder of all that is human and humane.

In our contemporary context, Donald Trump is the consummate example of “winning is everything,” willing to trample anything and anyone to satisfy his rapacious appetite and infantile desires.  I DON'T ALWAYS LIE, BUT WHEN I DO, I AM DRUNK ON POWER POLITICAL BUTTONHis staggering indifference to coherency is perhaps the best testament to his sociopathy and megalomania.  As his collection of infantile desires churn about from crying to be fed by others, being lulled by the prospect of absolute security, and to poop and have others clean it up, momentary contradictions are twittered away.  During his campaign, Donald Trump illustrated well the height of his foolishness by claiming that he would regulate himself when he was president, even though he considered it his sociopathic duty to behave with no self-regulation in his shady business dealings, his defining “success.”  The fact that so many Americans ate up this pablum attests to the worshipful status of the mythical “invisible hand” at the center of capitalism that will magically fix our bad behavior while encouraging bad behavior (sic).

Though it is any easy target to point out Donald Trump’s extraordinary stockpile of character defects, “winning is everything” is essentially a corollary of electoral politics.  Losers don’t govern.  The threat of apparent helplessness induced by electoral defeat is enough for most politically active human beings to habitually subjugate their highest ideals and dreams.  Ideals and dreams are easy prey in the capitalistic meat-grinder of democracy for sale and ensuing plutocracy/oligarchy/kleptocracy.  The nonnegotiable principals of “losers” are better served outside electoral politics where this different class of human (“losers”) can demonstrate the true winds of change needed for equality and justice for all.  Losers, in terms of electoral politics, are simply those whose basic needs and human rights are not met by the governance of the current rulers in power.  The first step in the evolution of ethics is a sense of solidarity with other human beings -- Albert Schweitzer quote POLITICAL BUTTONThere are a lot of losers!  When the many “losers” unite in solidarity against the fewer privileged elites, the electoral “winners,” justice is expanded.  You may correctly note that in this equation the truest source and force for justice for all resides with the “losers.”  Truth is on the side of the oppressed. Malcolm X quote POLITICAL BUTTONWhen people with “skin in the game,” whether from involuntary disenfranchisement or in voluntary solidarity, confront those with soothing privilege, truth and justice favor the side off the oppressed.  May all of the “losers” of the world unite!

POEM: That Arguable Grip

He argued
Fore cynicism
Farced to choose between
What’s left
What is right
And he one handily
With won hand tied behind his back
Soundly
Like the slow clap
With the only hope
That he is not contagious
And that joy can be found in abandon
In the grip of whatever he comes up with

This poem continues in my perpetual theme of cynicism versus hope, with a tip of the hat to the post-election ennui experienced by much of the American electorate and non-electorate.  Like I have been known to say: cynicism is its own reward.  Got Cynicism SPIRITUAL BUTTONThis poem awards cynicism with one of my favorite insulting critiques: cynicism is like masturbation, except without the short-term pleasures or long-term benefits.  While experiencing the grip of cynicism qualifies as normal, cynicism strikes me as a profoundly maladaptive response to building a long-term, hope-filled relationship with reality.  If you argue for cynicism, on whose side are you on?  Of course, misery loves company.  Incorporate that company in your worldview and you win amputated possibilities and learned helplessness.  Cynicism is locked in lamentable necessity and wretched necessities.  The cynic says, 'One man can't do anything.' I say, 'Only one man can do anything.' John W. Gardner quote SPIRITUAL BUTTONHope lives in possibility and possibilities ordered by our deepest dreams.  Hope accepts the hard work of recognizing that our stymied yearnings are more of a reflection of the depth of our longings than mirror confirmation of our foes’ oafishness.  Cynicism is fueled by the easy focus on others’ shortcomings.  Hope is fed by the steadfast convergence of dreams and dreamers.  It is easy to fall for seasons of cynicism and its many accomplices; I only ask that we keep the spring of hope in the lineup and work to swell the list of usual suspects…

Enthusiasm Trumps Cynicism PEACE BUTTONThe first step in the evolution of ethics is a sense of solidarity with other human beings -- Albert Schweitzer quote POLITICAL BUTTON

ELECTION POEM: Won Thing In Common

We had
Won thing in common
We were consumers
Of the evil of two lessers
As if
Only just
At last
Defeat the enemy
Within
Hour strangled democracy
Won wring
Too rule them all
Sending US too
Our eternal reward
That second coming
Over
And over

Countless millions only wish for it all to be over on the impending dawn of won of the greatest daze in American democracy.  The passive-aggressive cycle of non-election years and election years strikes me as absurdly dysfunctional.  CAPITOL PUNISHMENT: Those Without The Capitol Get The Punishment [capitol building] POLITICAL BUTTONThis absurdity is heightened in presidential election years (or is that non-presidential?).  In a numbing normality, worker alienation, blind consumerism, and inane entertainment maintain a trifecta of blessed passivity and hegemonic conformity punctuated by learned helplessness.  That’s the non-presidential years.  In presidential election years, our absurdity is traded up to the mirrorly surreal.  More like reality (sic) television than democracy, viewers — formerly known as citizens — are granted the high tech, virtual reality illusion that their voting for the winners, and decidedly losers, of American Monarch, is a sacred choice worthy of our waning humanity.  What we want, we want so desperately to be over.  Elect Satan - Why Pick The Lesser Of Two Evils - FUNNY POLITICAL BUTTONLittle do we realize that the unending cycle of fomented yearnings met with chronically new and improved unmet needs is perfectly consonant with our lifetime of socialization and domestication as consumers.  Work, buy, consume, die.  That we are literally consuming the planet should come as no surprise.  That in exchange for this we accept a few good jobs and a lot of crappy jobs (though 2 or 3 apiece), should be met with outright rebellion.  When winning ultimately feels like losing, and it only feels better when it stops, it may be a good time to stop drinking the Kool-Aid™.  It’s time to raze the bar.

POEM: As Far As One Kin See

As far as one kin see
It is a sin to crush some one’s body
And infinitely greater sow to crush some one’s spirit
In sum vain temped too raze awe questions
Can God
A-bridge
Between infinitude and soully you
Make piece with that which is wholly
Eternally now and to marrow
Not trading
In sin
As just
Some won
Violence
To that which is ardor
Too due
And infinitely greater

This poem is a tribute to the oneness of humanity, body and soul.  This poem recognizes the brutality of crushing one’s body through violence — whether through weapons or crushing needs.  This poem also posits that crushing one’s hope and dreams is udderly worse, steeling one’s soul.  This poem is an ode to those who accept that the hard work of creating justice on earth, here and now, is in seamless alignment with practices of the spirit in seeking evolution and enlightenment.  The inward and outward journeys must find some parity, or ails be subject to earned cynicism or learned helplessness.  The hopeful, those fuels for justice, must join up with awe those down in the trenches, those on the margins of cagey and fuel of street whys. Humanity has a shared destiny, and the key lies, not to cell, each other out.  For won humanity, there must be won love.  Sow let’s get together, body and soul, and cut to the chaise!

POEM: That Miraculous Happen Stance

She was wading
For something in particular
Her role in the hay
Like searching for a needle
Attentive to pricks and pitchforks
Grasping at straws
Wandering what might catch
Frayed of what could be
Inconceivable
A mystical roam to grow
That sacred womb
Between pricks
And unguarded of pitchforks
And at that point
Only too fine herself
No longer scarred of the unmovable
Assumes that miraculous happen stance
Of awe in the present

Life can be traumatic.  Life can be miraculous.  There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein quote SPIRITUAL BUTTONLife encompasses both.  Life can be scary.  Life has long-standing scary realities that won’t go away by just changing our thinking or attitude. Unfortunately, traumatic experiences can forge us into reactionary ways of being in the whirled.  Reacting quickly and/or diligently to dangerous or potentially dangerous situations can serve us well in coping with threatening situations.  However, coping mechanisms, when reflexively applied to situations not particularly threatening, can become self-defeating and interfere with healthy adaptation to life larger than a threatened existence.  I consider coping mechanisms as a normal adaptation to an abnormal (unhealthy) situation.  There are aspects of reality that are deeply persistent.  There are aspects of reality that are profoundly fluid.  The deep persistence of reality serves as a reliable and predictable foundation for our being and acting in the world, and, inasmuch as reality is dangerous, this may induce large-scale helplessness, discouragement, or even despair.  Expect Miracles SPIRITUAL BUTTONThe profound fluidity of life offers a perpetual freshness which can be exciting and enthralling, and, inasmuch as reality is threatening, may be overwhelming and disorienting.   I find the best aspects of reality as both deeply persistent and profoundly fluid.  I find the mystery of constant change profoundly gripping.  In the dusk of life, we are like fireflies rising on a summer eve, like stardust miraculously animated wafting toward heaven, one’s true home, only to be jarred by some still maturing beings of undetermined curiosity or cruelty, bugging us to know end, each preying for unending inquisitions, soully to be unjarred of what we once were, freed by more than, ever anew.  Go ahead, assume the position: that miraculous happen stance.  It’s awe you have too due.

Double Oh No: The Name’s Cadabra, Abra Cadabra

God’s
Name is knot
Abracadabra
Too be unloosed
Unwhirled
As owed man
Putting on
Some kind
Of spectacle
Who’s genesis
Giving
No quarter
To years
Behind
In a sense
Out right hostility
And udder a version
Sow called
Crater of the whirled
And awe wanting
Clear too see
Not a wood be casket
Drowning in a box
That must
Not hold water
As wee might reckon
Only too be
Delivered
In the final seeing
As figure out
By no means
Self evident
Pulling rabid
From won’s hat
Empty
Sored in passable caskets
Wee suspect
As a parent harms
As sure as there are no teeth
In taking
A bullet to the head
Wear the art
Matter’s not
And yet
Who is
The one
Cutting people in
Have
Awe that is given
Taking it
To the blank
As grater than
A loathe of bred
From nothing
Excepting freely
Wile rooting fore the nix
In a New York minute
As some goaled in goose egg
In disposed
Of whatever
Ladder day judge meant
Too due no wrung
As diff a cult
To under stand
As re-bounding
Back to the show
Is caping
Behind curtains
For the wrest of us
Only too be duped
In mere images
Peering real
Mirrorly a muse
Meant for inspiration
Knot too be swallowed
Hole in won
Or fish tails sow bred
Subject to
Dis tract
As divine accessory
And slight offhand
In vane miss direction
On the eve of knowledge
As simply a trick
Convinced one no’s
How it is
Done
Nothing
Too see
Hear
More than wee in vision
In blinding silence fallow
In a tacit urn hoarse
And yack knowledge
A bit fancy
Meager too please
As inn sufficient
Comforted buy con jury
In the worst kind
Of source err he
As if
Got hour
Back
To slots plain
As abettor
Be helled
No good
For make believe
When cloaked in daggers

This poem strikes a familiar theme of mine, the parent elusiveness of God and the unsophisticated ways of even daring to speak of such things from most any perspective brought to bear.  The dark side of religion has wreaked hellish trauma, bludgeoning both real people and tender hope for sublime understanding.  Militants, that is fundamentalists, from both theist and atheist perspectives routinely bash each other.  Religionists often infantalize atheists, and atheists are often eager to throw the baby out with the bathwater.   My guess is that if theists and atheists got together and compiled all of the gods they don’t believe in, that there would be a pantheon of common ground.  I view militancy, that is fundamentalism, as the primary divide, not theism and atheism.  There are plenty of poor intentions and chronic misunderstandings to go around.  As I see it, militancy bespeaks violence, that is a commitment to winning by creating losers, forever separated buy uncrossable divides in human life, terminally fighting over uncommon ground.  Fundamentalism of all types reduces perpetual paradoxes and the centrality of metaphorical ways of seeing the higher aspects of life to small-minded literalism stuck arguing facts rather than truth and stiff-hearted relationships valuing right ideology over harmonious community.  The siblings of truth and harmony, which are deep quests of theists and atheists, religion and science, or of anyone seeking to work out the seems of their worldview, knead less judgment and a sober patience unwilling to bury others in uncommon ground.

As in most conflicts, power and trust are the ultimate issues, or perhaps more to the point, abuses of power and trust.  Personally, I am increasingly convinced that absolute power absolutely corrupts.  Hell, I even believe God shares power in order to create a better overall world, that is not merely more benevolent and fair, but creates the very foundations for the highest human aspirations and shatters the ceiling of cosmological and worldly puppetry (and the inevitable puppet tiers).  I experience my most human living on a small-scale, in community, where direct accountability to one another breeds well proportioned living.  This brings humanity to power and builds trust seamlessly into the process.  Such human-scaled enterprises are far more sane, represented by the encouraging movements to local — not loco.  Large-scale enterprises are typically suited and tied in hubris, albeit the the finest hubris civilization can offer.  Only such large-scale undertakings can globalize insanity alongside the endemic learned helplessness paralyzed in the reality of “how did we get here?!”  In human community, power resides in people.  Power in human community requires consent.  Complicated — often called “civilized” — nonhuman mechanisms to consolidate power, typically under the auspices of creating “bigger and better” things, ultimately rely on people’s consent.  This often does succeed in producing bigger things; though the better part, our humanity, commensurately suffers in the accelerating smallness and relative unimportance of people in such enterprises.  Not surprisingly, people, not built for such inhumanity, become viewed as the problem, gumming up the efficient workings of the machine.  Depressingly sow, our views of human nature are then tempted to align with the misanthropic view that people are less important than things — see corporate personhood.  Withdraw consent and these nonhuman and inhuman structures and mechanism whither.  This speaks to the importance of protest and noncooperation/resistance to appointed authorities of all unkinds.  Opting out of institutional and corporate enterprises starves the beast and  frees up time and life energies for building alternative human communities.  Active noncooperation and resistance naturally arise as the dominant and dominating culture (sic) inevitably will clash with any growing culture (hopefully viral) that questions the sick assumptions and unearned trust of its immeasurable victims.  In such a project, Jesus radicals, atheist anarchists, and sordid kinds of others can find common ground, fertile for reclaiming our humanity in a whirled of profit tiers.  Let us not be distracted by our differences, but rather unite  in disavowing all things undermining the human heart.

POEM: The Short End of The Shtick

The earth quaked
Beneath the CEO
As he re-torted
It’s no bodies fault
In a sense
Coming upon
The prophets of owed
Raking over
That thin lyin’
Between purveyor and consumer
I’m just
Doing my job
And it’s knot
My job
You are
Welcome
To the short end
Of that shtick

This poem was inspired by a specific instance of the ever-present marginal customer service amidst corporate America.  There is an entire universe of bad customer service that lies between “It’s not my job” and “I’m just doing my job.”  There is an entire universe of bad customer service that lies between callous executives’ inhumane policies of profit over people and wage slaves who have made learned helplessness an uninspiring art form.  Our humanity can only slip away if we abdicate responsibility and response-ability.  As much as the status quo sucks at any given moment, this is an invitation for humanity to step into such a vacuum.  Even as the invitation is addressed as “Dear Occupant,” merely serving as a notice that your short end of the stick is being pared back or that the light at the end of the tunnel is being turned off, this would better serve as a pretext for revolution than learned helplessness.  Part of humans’ Jōb description is a test of faith regarding devilish abets inhumanity.  There in lies an affirmative response-ability to fix ballsy dehumanization that metes life on our knees.  Countability de-mans it.  In choiring mines want to no, excuses for whining a bout their purported eunuch situations, as if hitting the Hi C in loo of Kool-Aid™ was somehow passable.  If this peers as sum bizarro universe, wrest assured that the job you may have may have nothing too due with this.  Other wise, just, do your job.

POEM: Censorship

The worst thing about censorship is

This short, one-line poem could be mistaken for half a poem.  This poem may leave the reader wondering what I, the author, consider to be the worst thing about censorship. This poem may even beg the reader to fill in the blank, the censored blank, for themselves.  Part of the point of the poem is that we will never truly know what we are missing when our ability to express ourselves in censored.

There are at least two types of censorship: self-censorship, and being censored by another.  Most often censorship refers to the latter, typically in objection to censorship as an unjust social relationship.  This type of censorship is important to identify and address because it is a direct threat to free speech.  This type of censorship creates a climate of fear among those whose expressions may be threatened, and a mistrust of authority among those who question the legitimacy of such censorship.  Censorship stands in almost direct opposition to free speech.  No doubt, some expressions should not be considered free speech, such as the proverbial shouting “fire” in a crowded theater.  Nonetheless, I suspect that such cases are quite rare.  The fear and social control generated by direct censorship ripples far beyond a person’s expression being squelched, and beyond potential recipients of that expression losing out on that expression.  The fear of some social sanction leads to countless forms and incidents of self-censorship.  This is the insidiously successful child of direct censorship.

If those in a position of power to censor can cow us to become sheep, then their mold of our culture will grow more pronounced in our silence.  I suspect self-censorship accounts for much, if not most, of the seemingly miraculous hold that the powers that be have over the masses.  Self-censorship allows the illusion that power comes from above, top-down, rather than power being derived from the consent of the people.  Of course, power from above, in the form of sheer force, is a scary reality.  Social sanctions for simply speaking out can be large.  In fact, the presence of a disproportionately large social sanction merely for speaking out is perhaps the surest clue that the underlying reality is unjust.  After all, talk is cheap.  But if questioning power structures is not dealt with early enough on, then the precarious illusion of top-down power masquerading as authority, and the seeming futility of bottom-up power, will continue unabated.  A little shock and awe is sometimes needed to remind people of who is in control.  Learned helplessness will do the trick the vast majority of the time.

Overcoming self-censorship is a necessary condition for a free society.  We can only deal well with reality if we know what that reality is.  This requires liberal self-expression.  Heavily redacted realities make poor citizens and sick societies.  This may be the best single reason for either avoiding most of popular media, or consuming it with a high degree of literacy, to see it for the spectacle that it is.  The images and messages, both overt and subtle, in media have a powerful effect on how we view reality.  The simple fact that there is a whole genre of “reality” television that has little to do with reality is probably the best illustration of how far afield we have become.  TV is a poor representation of reality.

Overcoming self-censorship requires courage and sacrifice.  As Amelia Earhart said, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.”  We can flow with the idolatrous, heavily redacted realities that invade our consciousness unrelentingly through media and advertising.  Though such illusions are unsustainable in many ways, there is a lot of force applied to maintain them.  Adding your consent to those forces may benefit you in many ways.  Or, we can freely and courageously express our own realities which often differ profoundly from the heavily promoted narratives around us.  This may exact a price, but, at least it is a price paid in homage to reality, not illusion.  Who knows, we may very well find that the realities of the vast majority of humans on this planet have more in common with one another than the dreams foisted upon us.  This is the making of peace.  As Gandhi so simply and profoundly stated, “Peace is possible.”  This reality is so routinely obscured.  You can be a living expression of this reality.  You are the channel.

POEM: Fearmongers

Fearmongers

Fear-mongers rein upon US
And weave so much dread
Of what dismay due
We simply back into
A dark future
Like bit players
In a bad horror film
Where more than budgets are slashed
And we feign surprise

This short poem addresses the pervasive human experience of fear.  Though the fear addressed in this poem relates to the daily weave of fear, almost like background noise, which leads to learned helplessness in our body politic.  Everyone is familiar with the classic horror movie behavior of backing into a dark, dangerous situation, with the audience calling out to pay attention to the completely predictable eventuality of being slashed in some way.  This irrational cinematic behavior provides the image for this poem.  Further, the inevitable slashing is juxtaposed with feigned surprise.  This feigned surprise is the logical outcome of being cowed into fear so pervasively that obvious scary outcomes coming our way need to be denied to rationalize our feelings of helplessness.  Perhaps the least surprise should be expected around the persistent reality that fearful behaviors lead to fearful outcomes.  Fearful means are inextricably linked to fearful ends, just like any other means and ends are tied together.  Ultimately, fear brings out the worst in us.  Endemic fear immobilizes us as a well-functioning society.  A politics of fearmongering, and a society awash in fear, has little grounds to expect to flourish.  May we have the courage to resist and challenge fearmongering.  May we openly and honestly address the inherent scary outcomes within our body politic, so that reasonable and sustainable outcomes can be nurtured.

POEM: About It

About It

I am helpless
Though God
Is more eloquent
Just saying
I love you
And there is nothing
You can do
About it

This poem is a tribute to human helplessness and the redeeming love of God which we have no control over.  Being helpless is a universal human experience.  While this can be frustrating, helplessness is a vulnerability that can open us up to experiencing God.  This poem juxtaposes the typical experience of human helplessness with the simple and hopeful reality that God’s love for us has a unconditionality; we are helpless against it; we can’t do anything to change it!  The “it” in the title and at the end of the poem is another of my intentionally ambiguous pronoun which refers to both helplessness and God’s love, the mutually reinforcing core themes of this poem.  The message of hope and grace is that not everything that we are helpless over is a threat to us — quite the opposite.  Life itself was unbid by us, yet we partake of it.  We are awash in a sea of grace.  This doesn’t obviate the fact that we are also surrounded by inhumane, even hostile forces.  Nonetheless, such grace, and a disciplined awareness of such grace, can offer a powerful counterbalance to the forces of evil in the world.  Reflecting such grace into a difficult world can really mess with the minds (and hearts) of your fauxs.  So have some fun with it!

POEM: Unending Vocation

She summoned me
To tell me
Of my new job assignment
I soon realized
That it was
Not beneath me
But behind me
So I moved on
In my unending vocation
As I was tolled

This poem is autobiographical.  This experience of mine could be viewed even as the first step in my unending vocation of poet.  I have often used the phrase “Not beneath me, but behind me” to describe the process that I experienced leaving my “regular” job and career.  This specifically applies to the new job assignment referred to within the poem.  In retrospect, I don’t think that my supervisor/boss expected my job reassignment to be a discussion, but rather a simple informing me of the way in which I was to me managed.  This disconnect exemplifies why I made a relatively quick decision, within a matter of days, to not accept the new assignment and request part-time work entailing my old job duties which were being curtailed.

I also knew that any job with this employer was terminal.  I would have to do something different.  It took me almost two years to quit the part-time work afforded me while I was starting my own business.  Though the decision and timing were more about my emotional and spiritual health than financial.  I hadn’t netted dime one from my new business.  Nonetheless, I knew that my toxic job environment was killing me, bringing out the worst in me.  Certain death is a good motivator.  I choose life, however uncertain, than certain death.  This choice seems somewhat obvious, but I think that it is a choice not made nearly as often as it should be.  Probably something to do with learned helplessness, settling for mediocrity, and false pride.  I took pride in being autonomous and tough, living on breadcrumbs.  I would rail against the stupidity of my employers for not even providing me breadcrumbs for my high aspirations.

Fortunately, I eventually came to realize the great gift that this total desert was, for me to be able to separate myself from such toxic work relationships.  It reminded my of my divorce, in the sense that I felt that my chosen profession, of which I was well-trained, was mine, and these fools should leave, not me.  Of course, this wasn’t going to happen (actually, in the case of my divorce, this did happen).  So, I left.  The leaving of my profession was entangled in another reality, that of having 50-50 custody of my kids and not willing to move elsewhere for work.  So, fate had its way with me…and I am all the better for it!  I sort of backed into parlaying my unique talents into a new vocation: as the greatest punster for peace in the English-speaking world!  How many people can say with certainty that they are the best in the world at something?  What a privilege to not relegate such a momentous reality to a mere hobby.

This whole process was very humbling and awe-inspiring for me.  I have grown a great appreciation for going through “bad” stuff, trusting my own instincts and the benevolence of a higher power to come out on the other side even better off.  I consider myself to be a very creative and imaginative person.  I consider myself very intelligent.  I could not have predicted the good things to come.  I fooled myself into thinking that I could foresee and control the future.  Fortunately, I could not.  Fortunately, my future was better than I had even dared imagine.  From this experience I have come up with a saying: God doesn’t give me want I want; God gives me something better!

May you find the courage and wherewithal to follow your instincts and dreams, trusting that there are powers at work that will bring good things into your life, even better than you dare imagine!

POEM: Traveling North Still

I was traveling on a journey
And it was definitely not south
I watched the mile markers grow in number
Until I found myself in a different state
Noticing that
The mile markers restarted
And lo, it was different
Though northern still
Through and through

No matter what direction you are journeying, something will change.  What a joy to travel on a journey that is good (“definitely not south”) for a long enough time to see the proverbial mile markers rack up!  Nonetheless, at some point, things will transition to another state.  In this new state, the markers of progress along your journey will change.  This typically requires a recalibration of our thinking, a new start.  While most of us hope and pray for new starts, at least somewhere along the journey, new starts, even those viewed positively, require effort and some re-orientation to new conditions.  This poem addresses the issue of integrating new states and experiences into a coherent and positive larger journey, such is our life.  Faced with constant change, we can still keep our eye on the prize.  There are things in life that can be counted on.  Natural laws can be uncovered through science and meditation on the existential realities of humanity’s place in the world (that is, through physics and metaphysics).  There is a true north that transcends any human timeframe or temporal set of conditions (“states”).  Regardless, of if or how we think of true north it is still.  Perhaps most comforting, it can provide reliable beacons in which to frame and map our life in a coherent way, “through and through.”  Seeing our various journeys as a coherent AND positive story is somewhat trickier.  Given that most of reality is outside our control, that is, we can’t change it, can we view this “helplessness” as a positive thing?  I, for one, regard a persistent order to the world as a magnificently beneficial state of affairs.  On the other hand, that persistently elusive free will and subjectivity at the center of our being carves out a space as delicious as it is bewildering in which we get to reign ourselves into this world.  This is that space that is irreducibly ours.  We are free to act within it and act out into the world.  We have soul responsibility for these free acts, that is, that of which we have control, namely, ourselves (or at least that “part” of ourselves).  Since, this freedom seems to define what it means to be humans, many focus most of their attention to this aspect of our being.  These are the “way existential” people.  Many others just have a way overblown sense of what they are in control of!  Unfortunately, if one does not balance out their focus on freedom with an adequate understanding of the larger part of the universe, then their freedom will be running blindly, ignorantly into the rest of reality (that which we cannot change) with painful results.  By simply making note of those thing which stay the same regardless of what we do, we can avoid a lot of hurt.  Of course, teasing out the sometimes subtle differences between what we can change and what we cannot change is the stuff of wisdom.  This all rather succinctly captured in the serenity prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

May you have the wisdom to make a difference, in your own life, and in the world around you.

Mock Funeral – Occupy Toledo

Yesterday, April 1st, April Fool’s Day, was the one and only performance of Occupy Toledo‘s Mock Funeral — in life (and death) there are no rehearsals, this is it!  If you missed it, I truly hope that you were doing something else as fun and inspiring!  Thanks to all the players, readers, eulogizers, ushers, HOMElessLAND SECURITY, providers of food, and all who helped make Occupy Toledo’s RE-BIRTHDAY possible.  We rose like a phoenix from the ashes!!  Occupy Toledo will re-start the physical re-occupation of Toledo on May1, May Day, the day of a worldwide general strike!  Join us May 1 in Levi’s Square, downtown Toledo, St. Clair at Madison.  In the meantime you can come help plan the occupation of Toledo at our General Assembly meeting every Wednesday at 6:30 pm at Third Space.

Below is a picture of our own Rev. Ed Heilman serving as mock preacher (note the dollar sign on his bishop’s hat and the dollar sign cross on the altar)

Mock Funeral Preacher (Rev. Ed Heilman)Here is Occupy Toledo’s Obituary from the Mock Funeral:

“Occupy Toledo was born October 10, 2011, to it’s parents, the Arab Spring and Occupy Wall Street. Born of hope, Occupy Toledo burst onto the scene in its own charmingly childish way. However, from the birth of Occupy Toledo, few people could understand what it wanted. Onlookers mumbled again and again: “What do they want?” “I don’t get it.” Occupy Toledo flailed around for about 6 months until it realized that it was too small to succeed. After scrutinizing corporate behavior, Occupy Toledo in due course discovered that the nobility of American corporations was unparalleled. The dearly departed realized that in these great United States of America, injustices are so few and far between, that it could no longer even occupy itself. Unavoidably, Occupy Toledo came to its senses, recognized its irrelevancy, and accepted that resistance to corporate rule is futile. Fortunately, in the end, Occupy Toledo had gained at least the good sense to crawl into a coroner’s office and die. Occupy Toledo died on April 1, 2012, due to apathy. Protesters were the Time Magazine Person of the Year in 2011. Gracefully, protesters like Occupy Toledo are stepping aside to make room for the inevitable Time Magazine Person of the Year for 2012: the Corporate Person, born of Citizens United, the true will of human persons across America. Occupy Toledo is survived by countless cousins around the country, many of whom have not achieved enlightenment, so they have not yet abandoned their vain struggles against corporate America, which is obviously too big too fail. The bad news is that Occupy Toledo is dead. The good news is that its condition is stable.”

Below is a picture of our own local activist doctor, Johnathon Ross, M.D., reading Occupy Toledo’s Death Certificate and pronouncing its death.

Mock Funeral Doctor (Johnathon Ross, M.D.)Here is Occupy Toledo’s Death Certificate from yesterday’s Mock Funeral:

“I hereby certify that Occupy Toledo, born October 10, 2011, has died on this day, April 1, 2012. The immediate cause of death was apathy. The underlying causes of death included: 1) an atrophied brain due to an overexposure to TV news and infotainment, talk radio, and so-called “reality” TV; 2) learned helplessness, due to an enlarged gullibility, making it susceptible to corporate propaganda and so-called political pundits; 3) a weakened constitution due to lack of exercising freedoms and widespread metastases of planetary consumption; and lastly, 4) pure exhaustion from running on the treadmills of trying to earn enough to maintain a decent household and fend off crushing debt.”

Of course, after the 1% overstepped their hand with their crass compulsions (by bidding on the Phoenix egg for their breakfast), the Phoenix’s prophecy was fulfilled:

“Hear this prophecy: The crass compulsion of the few to buy anything and everything is complete. The few dare to literally buy and consume the HOPE of the many. Because of this abomination of the few, the Phoenix’s prophecy is complete. The many, the 99%, Occupy Toledo, will be re-born one month from today in this same place. HAPPY RE-BIRTHDAY OCCUPY TOLEDO. Join us on May 1, May Day, a world-wide general strike, for the re-occupation of Toledo. Thus speaks the Phoenix, ‘You, the many, the 99%, shall arise again and be free. Join together with the peoples of this land and from around the world, and the few, the 1%, will be vanquished.’ “

Below pictured is yours truly, Dan Rutt, alias “Top Pun” (it’s just, my pun name), with the HAPPY RE-BIRTHDAY card placed over the tombstone announcing the re-occupation of Toledo.

Mock Funeral RE-BIRTHDAY CARD! (Dan Rutt as Funeral Director)

Here is some Toledo Blade coverage for the Mock Funeral.

If you’d like to read the Occupy Toledo Mock Funeral script, you can re-live the event, or get a greater taste of the drama of the day.  Here is a printer-friendly PDF version of the Mock Funeral of Occupy Toledo.