Friday, December 26, 2014

The Sacrament of Sustaining Life

Somehow, I'm always out of step with everyone else I know. Just as I settled into the role of dutiful wife and mother, the feminist movement came roaring through my life and the lives of all the children born to those of us wondering how to always please our husbands, our breadwinners and family protectors.

During those times, there were two opposing, equally loud, voices. One was telling us to wrap our naked bodies in clear plastic wrap and meet our husbands at the door. Another was, just as stridently, advising us that we don't need men; we can do everything important for ourselves. Both bombed in my experience.

Nobody talked about what was best for, or what would happen to, our poor children during this transition. Where were they to be when we were hopping to the door, incapacitated by plastic wrap around our bodies to our ankles, and making wild whoopee with our husbands? The woman who gave this advice must have missed the part of the cultural revolution where middle class families lost their slave-waged servants who would remove the children to the nursery when Big Daddy arrived on the home scene.

That other, a flaming feminist who told us that we didn't need men was also promoting free "love," as if there should be no emotion involved in opening our bodies to the bodies of males. I don't think she took any anthropology courses; nor do I think she understood the power of hormones over our minds. It seems to me that a great number of women, because of hormonal influences, mother anything that comes between their legs, whether going in or coming out. The only "cure" for this tendency seemed to be drugs or drunkenness, both of which anesthetized the woman enough to be oblivious to what she was doing. Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll were a substitute for automatic mothering.

Birth control and finding our own clitorises was the accepted answer to all the problems that we were told we created for ourselves by seeking out male members of our species. No pregnancies, we were told, equaled no problems. Self-induced orgasms were as good as a girl could get; no wet spots, and no need to ask a man for anything. Women worked at becoming as callous about compassion for others as were the men that we had so long criticized.

Not all was evil about this transformation of society. The children of divorce, and women without life partner parents of their children, forced the fathers of our many offspring to become something other than simply breadwinners, Our children would settle for nothing less than love from each parent. We women had to "man up" and do some of our own heavy lifting; except it took at least two of us to lift any box that we had formerly counted on one man to manage.

Our society still expected us to bake cookies, even while we were winning bread for the support of ourselves and separate households, with children in residence. The fathers of our children no longer automatically assumed that there were others to whom they could hand their children while they sought their own fulfillment devoid of emotional entanglements. We women assumed that our children would acclimate to less need of our attention.

We may not like to admit it, but heavy lifting is a big part of what life's work is all about. Even a big baby is a heavier burden than most women want to carry across a continent without some brute strength to help her. Men don't like to admit it, but baking cookies in small batches without anyone to laud you as a great chef can feel rather thankless. Male-run businesses thrive, while family life dies. The businesses overwhelmingly staffed by females, such as health care, day care, and teaching continue to be run on slave-wages. The males who actually do the heavy lifting for the big bosses continue to receive not enough pay to support themselves, much less families.

Why do we pay so much to those who pray, and so little to those who do for us as we live and die? It is a mystery to me. When will we face the fact that there is no substitute for labors of love, and that those labors should be honored with pay that adds dignity to the laborers' lives? When will we, as homo sapiens, learn that the most sacred jobs of all are the ones for which we currently pay the least? It is not a lower caste assignment to take care of the basic needs of life, in all of its manifestations.

I didn't bear children to take care of their parents, but to proceed on their own paths. While some women would prefer to sexually pleasure themselves and pick up the poop of a dog or cat for companionship while waiting for, and paying a person, to come to their aid with each heavy box that needs transport, I would rather face the possibility that I may, one day, be picking up the poop of the man who has helped me to help my children, at my request, for many years.

I know the difference between giving a hug and getting one, as do the deeper recesses of our children's spirits. I'll take my husband over a hound any day. And as for baking cookies, I believe the making of sustenance for life is the greatest sacrament of all. I never feel more like a high priestess than when in front of my stove.

Sustainers of life's positive energy, here and beyond, is the greatest blessing we can. These are the gifts for which we should be willing to most highly pay. There are more things in life that I will do for love than there are that I'll do for money, though many of these same things I did for money to show love for my children when they were my responsibility. When will we reclaim money as simply barter for labors of love for those to whom we pledge undying responsibility? When will we realize that those who share responsible compassion are the only fully human homo sapiens?

Monday, December 22, 2014

Mazel Tov at Mensch Manor

We were incredibly honored by an invitation to an intimate dinner party at the home of the cardiologist who was instrumental in saving Richard's life and his wife, who plans elaborate parties for a living. They live in the home in which he was brought up, and are both devout Jews who honor all the Jewish holidays in their home. 

Juliet was brought up Roman Catholic, but converted to Judaism before marrying Moshe and combining their families. Some of their children are practicing Jews; others are not, but what they all have in common is that they all grew up in uptown New Orleans. Being a New Orleanian, raised in the heart of one of the oldest areas of New Orleans is a religion unto itself. Most people from uptown even pronounce New Orleans with three syllables, rather than the usual two used by suburbanites.

Moshe's mother, in addition to being the matriarch of her own large family, was a renowned New Orleans art critic, patron, activist, and connoisseur. The home in which Moshe and Juliet live is Old New Orleans at it's very best, showcasing some of the greatest of New Orleans artists' works. Though the children of this home are all grown, there are always people other than Moshe and Juliet in residence. Grandchildren, students seeking a warm welcome when studying in one of the nearby universities, dozens of Godchildren, and any friends who want to bring their pajamas (or not) and stay for the night.

We really didn't know what to expect when we got the invitation. We have been to dinner at their home on more than one occasion, when it was only the four of us. Mostly we've been to their home when seemingly several hundred people were dancing and partying to beat the band...often with their formal parlor turned into a bandstand. Juliet and Moshe are much younger than are we, so we have never been able to stay long enough to see the ends of the evenings, except when it has been only the four of us.  Age is not the only reason we can't keep up with them, but it makes me feel better to pretend this is so.

Juliet and Moshe simply love to celebrate the very air that they breathe, and nobody does it better, or with more variety, than they do. They simultaneously decorate their home for Hanukkah and for Christmas. I won't be surprised if we arrive one day to find Kwanzaa included in the decor and celebration, as their home, year round, Certainly exemplifies the spirit of Kwanzaa.

We found a parking spot in the very front of their home, feasting our eyes on the lights draping the iron fence and covering Moshe's treasured Sasanqua azaleas that bloom every winter here in New Orleans. I had to smell the garlands of greenery on their old brick steps' black iron banister to know that they hadn't hung real evergreen that fall apart within a week in our heat. The decorations on their door and porch welcomed us with lots of gold intertwined in the green. (Add a little purple and they will be ready for Mardi Gras.) 

We had to knock several times before Moshe, looking harried, answered the door. He apologized that we had to "act like family and hang out in the kitchen" acknowledging that were right on time, but that he could not yet offer us cocktails. Moshe is an accomplished mixologist and takes great pride in doing drinks the way the greatest bars in New Orleans do them. With the deft handwork of a surgeon, he was peeling an orange into one long spiral of skin and studding it with whole cloves.

As we passed through the dining room toward the kitchen, we were absolutely stunned by the opulent tablescape, set with green Venetian glass and gleaming gold charger plates on which were setting exquisite fine china. Candles glowed all around. I felt like we had stepped back in time to the early twentieth century in New Orleans, when servants were in abundance to cook, iron the linens, shop, cook, set the table, serve, and wash the fine crystal, china, and silver. The amazing thing is that we knew that Moshe and Juliet were doing it all, and that we were included in the small group invited to celebrate Moshe's latest success. 

It wasn't long before another couple arrived, one whom we didn't know from previous parties. They, too, were treated to watching Moshe's handwork with the orange. Moments later, Moshe called us all to follow him into the living room, where on the bar he proudly displayed a bottle of port which he had been saving for several decades and the contents of said bottle decanted into a Baccarat carafe. He announced that this was all about celebrating his recent success. 

As the third, and last, couple arrived, Moshe was ceremoniously pouring perfectly made Manhattans into the proper stemware. Juliet arrived and requested a glass of claret. We had known for months that Moshe was studying for an esoteric and new area of Cardiology care. Though he is brilliant and imminently accomplished in all he attempts, his nerves for these months were strung as tightly as piano wires. He announced that he had gotten the results and he passed, to which we all offered great sighs of relief and raised our glasses to having our friend so happy. We had never doubted his success.

The last couple to arrive, Mona and her husband Mickey have been at every function we've ever attended at this home, so they really are family. Mona took one look at the table and asked, appropriately, "Where are you putting the food?" We noshed on hors d'oeuvres in the parlor for a while, sipping and basking in Moshe's glory; then Juliet began to lay out the buffet.

As we were seated, Moshe poured both red and white wines, the Claret for some and Vouvray for others of us. He also poured water all around. Timothy, who was seated next to me, received from the hands of Juliet a bowl of freshly steamed haricot verte and what looked to be falafel patties. It seems that even vegans get what the wish for in this home.

The salad was spectacular, and had the gourmet touch of prosciutto in place of bacon bits. The sweet potatoes were firm and in a syrup that was just sweet enough; not cloying like so many sweet potatoes. The stuffed merliton was pure New Orleans goodness; I'd challenge any chef, in or out of New Orleans, to beat Juliet's version of this dish. And the crowning touch (pun intended) was the crown roast of pork with gold foil tips for the standing bones. There is nothing more elegant in presentation, in my opinion, than crown roast. The pork was slightly pink in the middle, as it should be, tender and other words, roasted to perfection. This was accompanied by a side dish of applesauce, as if it needed more embellishment.

Before we ate, there were three blessings spoken over us and the table, two in Hebrew by Moshe and one the Roman Catholic grace before meals by lifelong friend Mickey. The conversation was lively and laughter was good-natured. Any subjects that were brought up to break the mood were gently, but firmly put aside for later by Moshe. I kept waiting to see servants standing at the ready, knowing how much work went into this moment in time. 

As the dinner dishes were cleared, Juliet brought out champagne glasses and ice cream with three different toppings. While we ate ice cream, Moshe appeared with what appeared to be a small silver punch bowl and ladle. As we watched, he raised the clove-studded orange skin spiral out of the bowl, picked up the ladle and poured a liquid over the end of the spiral. Fire leapt out of the bowl and traveled up and down the spiraled skin. 

We were now witnessing the Old New Orleans performance art form of flaming desserts and coffee at table side. Moshe was using what he said used to be given to all New Orleans brides as a wedding gift, his mother's sterling silver cafe brulot bowl, and what a show he put on! The highly spirited coffee was served in fine china demi tasse cups. Timothy announced that he had enjoyed cafe brulot in several of the best New Orleans restaurants, and that this was the finest he had ever had.  It was spiced and spiked better than any I’d ever tasted.

Juliet, once again appeared from the kitchen, with yet another vintage recipe, perfectly prepared: baked in an iron skillet buttery pineapple upside down cake. We ate for hours, it seemed, but the evening was still young. The champagne flutes were filled with Veuve Clicquot, tasting to me of sparkling fresh pears, to wash down our cake before we retired to the parlor for 40 year old port and aged  Montrachet cheese and chocolate. 

It was time to bring out the parlor game that we had given Moshe and Juliet as a gift. Questions were asked and hilarity ensued while Moshe offered everyone liqueurs. I don't know when was the last time we stayed at a party this late, but the time simply flew by. One of the questions asked of Juliet was, "What is your favorite time of year?" She replied, "I love this holiday season because everyone is so nice to each other. 

Juliet and Moshe stretch this holiday season to include Hanukkah and Christmas. They then roll right into celebrating the carnival season of Mardi Gras. They do so much for so many that we were inspired, for Moshe's last birthday, to give them New Orleans style tiles saying "Mensch Manor" Their home is what humanity is supposed to be about, whether one is Jewish, Catholic or simply of homo sapiens who wish to be considered full parts of humanity.

We were celebrating Moshe, and he and Juliet were waiting on us! This was a sacrament, in my eyes. The good will we shared will be transubstantiated into good will and good works by all who were at the table and all who enter their home.

This was our Christmas dinner. Thank you, Moshe and Juliet.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Abraham's Adultery and Islam

Do the world's three religions branching from the tree of Abraham really differ so much in what they believe creates a peaceful place for families to thrive?
Abraham was not a strong man. He used his wife's sexuality to save his own skin. While married, he fathered a child with a servant girl, and allowed the servant and his own first-born son to be sent to the desert to die. Why is it that the three religions constantly killing the mothers and children of each other in bloody wars, insist on calling a man with Abraham's type of behavior their Patriarch? The descendants of the first-born son are still attempting to reclaim their birthright, and until all are willing to admit to the wrong done to Ishmael and his mother, I can't see that we have a chance of peace on earth.
It seems to me that Moses, with the Ten Commandments streamlined a way for the sons and daughters of the earth to create peace among themselves.This peaceful "place" was to be called "Israel," and exists wherever people honor the rules of living in peace with each other. These same rules seem to be at the core of what all humans want in creating communities.
This is what I believe Jesus came to say, "Taking care of each other and the less strong is what's important; the rules are for forming committed communities." I also believe Jesus came to model the way humans can manifest The Eternal, Universal Sacred Spirit of responsible, committed compassion in our own actions on earth. This Sacred Spirit is available to all with ears to hear and eyes to see. I find it most obvious in the eyes of a baby, just after birth and in the eyes of the dying as they long to see their goodness in the eyes of another.
In my opinion, Abraham should not be the role model for how husbands treat the most vulnerable in their lives.Maybe we need to let Abraham go finally to his grave, so we can stop sending so many of his children to theirs.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

To the Pro-LIfe Liars

Why is it that no religions are based on being awake and available to our own children? Why is it that we worship those who act as if children are to be seen and not heard? What is the attraction of the majority of religions to the philosophies spouted by those who spend their time meditating on issues other than the ones in the lives in which they manifest in physical forms?

I am sick, almost unto death, of those who spend their time seeking nirvana while ignoring the eyes, voices, and cries of their own children and the children of their neighbors. I am sick, almost unto death, of those who attribute sainthood to those who bear the most babies, with no ideas of how well the mothers and fathers have paid attention to their own children's individual needs.

Homo sapiens should not be brought up in litters, unless we want the offspring to simply manifest as feral animals. The fallacy of the religions that promote large families is that no human mother (or father) is able to nurture another child properly without sufficient time between births. The religions pretend that "the church" will make up the difference, but this is simply not the reality.

How many individuals will willingly give up their free time to console the colicky baby, not their own? How many will stay up all night, sober, to make sure that the teenagers of others are safely tucked in after their explorations? How many will live responsibly in order to show the example to the young, for as many years as it takes to bring homo sapiens to fully human adulthood?

Every homo sapiens child deserves to be born into a family and community of responsible, committed, compassionate fully human adults. If their conception can't lead to this, we shouldn't be surprised that the new homo sapiens turn out to simply be feral animals.

I am sick, almost unto death, of the hypocrisy in humans. Humanity takes many years to nurture one  homo sapiens animal into a full human. To all who are against conception and birth control: Either put your own time, resources, and love on the line, or shut up, go home, and stay quiet.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

What's Tugging at My Heart

What is tugging at my heart is the inability to find common words to describe The Sacred Spirit, as embodied in our universal experiences.

Some call this energy love, but what is love? To many it is synonymous with sexual attraction; to others it is an emotion similar to longing; in the understanding of others it is the willingness to suffer for another. In my world, love is shared committed action toward a common goal, right here on the physical plane we share in this lifetime. Not very romantic, is it?

Religions have all sorts of names for this universal energy. Seemingly, the most long-standing common term is "god(s)" or "God." In my 63 years on earth I have encountered so many explanations of what people commonly call "God" that I know they can't all be talking about the same being. It seems more like the elephant and the blind men. Depending on which small part you encounter, you describe it as a different being.

I am increasingly uncomfortable with the tendency to believe that whatever we see in our own communities is the only way that people should live. I understand the desire for stability, but not at the cost of continued life. Any living organism that stops growing begins losing its individual existence.

The only way I believe we'll get past the "tribal" impasses that our ancestors have inflicted on us is to open our eyes to the difference in homo sapiens as animals and those that are full humans. Full humanity is the only higher plane we can use to change the future of our earth. If we don't adapt, we die; this includes our understanding of The Sacred.

If we can't even find a universal word for the Spirit of Full Humanity, what hope do we have for communication and cooperation? My spirit longs for a word or phrase that defines responsible, committed compassion for our present and future universe, one that is free for the taking. I have been calling this life force that I feel "The Sacred Spirit." I'd love to hear other suggestions for an all-inclusive term for what enables us to be the best we can humanly be.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Purification of the Physical Process.

It seems odd to me that so many communities frown on speaking of conjugal bonding, even among responsible, committed, compassionate couples. Where did those who call themselves religious miss the many references in their own accepted sacred scriptures, the comparisons of the ultimate in Eternal Love to the love making of humans?

I am so tired of being an outcast, a "scarlet woman,"so to speak, in the company of women who call themselves mothers of the churches and temples. This problem is greatly exacerbated by the attention I draw from the males who can see that I am often in agreement with their points of view. I have tried almost everything, short of killing or crippling myself, to break this curse laid on me from the time before I could speak. Nothing has worked, so I keep mostly to myself.

My mother told the story of how "You trained your father when you were nine months old." According to her, after my father hit me, I turned over in my crib to avoid looking at him for three days. According to her, from this time forward, he never hit me. I believe this to be true...not only because I knew he wanted me to look at him, but because I also know he never again hit a crying girl. My mother always admitted that she was jealous of me for this "control" I had over men, especially my father.

Don't focus on why a father would hit a nine-month-old baby and why the mother of the baby would, not only stay married to him, but bear seven more children with him. Focus on the fear that others have of a woman-child with the ability to stop a dragon in his tracks. Focus also on the number of women who have come to me to back down the dragons in their lives, only to shun me in order to please their dragons or their dragon's offspring.

Being a dragon slayer without encouragement to brag on one's successes in love or in war is the loneliest existence for a woman. Would that I had been born a man, except for the blessing of the one man who neither worships nor seeks to control me. With him, I have discovered the divinity in sacred bonding. I only wish we had a group with which to share our ecstasy without invoking jealousy, which leads to competition, rather than community celebration.

Even Adam and Eve chose jealousy over contentment. Isn't it time to stop following in their footsteps and form footsteps of our own. The "sins of the fathers" stopped being passed on when the joyful Jewish Jesus was walking the earth.  Pentecost made it possible to celebrate without ancestral guilt, jealousy, greed, retribution, and mindless competition. The Sacred is in what we celebrate in the physical manifestations we were given. It is the purpose of each of us to continue purification of the
physical process.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Families of Faith and Religion

I respectfully submit that it is time that we draw the real line between faith and religion.

It seems to me that religions have always been about rituals and rules for behavior. Whether or not the people in the religious communities actually shared the same faith was, and is, immaterial. Religions, at best, create civil societies that can trust each others actions and commit to the same rules of bringing up offspring. The punishment for crossing the boundaries, at best, is banishment and restitution to the those harmed in the community.

The worst of religion is the formation of tribes who will watch as other members break all the boundaries of responsible, committed compassion and go to any means necessary to keep the community together. It is easier to hide the perpetrator than to admit that the hypocrisy of this behavior will destroy the bases on which the religions were formed. This is especially true when the leaders of the "tribes" are, in plain sight, the ones breaking the rules.

It seems to me to be okay to form community around any rules one wants, as long as the rules are consistently enforced. If a church doesn't want sex to happen outside of marriage between two opposite sex married-in-the church people, that is their prerogative, as long as all are held to the same, "no sex outside of church marriage" rules. The only way this should become a civil issue is when the religion is receiving support, in any form, from the civil society in which they operate.

One of the cardinal rules of civil disobedience is that those engaging in it must be willing to suffer the civil societies' rules for restitution.  There are too many hiding behind religious immunity while breaking the rules of the civil societies that are supporting them. This is the hallmark of hypocrisy.

Families of faith are something altogether different than religions. Families of faith share value systems by which they openly live their lives in community with like-minded others. It seems to me that our United States is becoming more a family of faith in the value of fairness as it moves away from religious self-righteousness. The beauty of democracy, as we purport to live it, in our country, is that anyone can become an entrepreneur and write their own rules for fairness in hiring and trade.

My faith is in the ideal of fairness, and those who treat each others in that manner are the only ones I wish to call family, friend, and fellow citizen of this earth.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Healing Wounds From Our Ancestor, Abraham

Wouldn't it be a nice move toward world cooperation if we divided the Sabbath into the three days that coincide with the three religions that seek to honor them?

Businesses could give Muslims the day of rest on Fridays until just before dusk (perhaps beginning on Thursday at sunset). The same businesses could give Jews the day of rest between just before dusk on Friday until nightfall on Saturday, and the Christians would be given their day of rest between nightfall on Saturday and dusk on Sunday.

In this manner, each of the branches (spiritual cousins) of the family of Abraham would be able to take the serving places of each other on the individual's Sabbaths. This could also be the case on the holy days celebrated by each "sect" of Abraham's religious descendants.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Good-bye to Gods and Goddesses

Nothing angers me more than the people who take for granted that my daughter will watch me die as they simply sign checks for my medical care. My daughter studies long and hard to be a professional, award-winning teacher of children, not a nurse's aid. She will not give up her vocation to tend my body as it turns to earth's fertilizing ash.

I hate goddess mythology almost more than I hate god mythology. The problem, as I see it, is that both women and men refuse to be fully understood, so they are always seen as something other than human. I want to be neither adored nor enslaved; I want to be known and loved as I really am.

My husband used to complain that all the neighbors who had lived beside him for years when I met him never even invited him in for a cup of coffee, though they all came to tell me what a hero he was as a doctor. It occurred to me that this was because they saw him as above them, a god, not a flesh and blood human being. Gods really don't need anything, and what we have to offer would surely be too inferior to be accepted.

Gods and goddesses have no needs. They are magic beings that can pull fulfillment of the wishes of others out of the air. It is so much easier to believe this myth than to watch for what a person really hungers for in his or her life and seek to partner with him or her in filling the most basic desires.

I have had husbands who treated me as each, within different marriages; I will not settle for either way of treatment in this last partnership in my life. I want my husband to be my life partner, as I have been to him, in every way humanly possible, including the shit, piss, and blood of my illnesses and old age.

We have convinced ourselves that there are gods and goddesses outside of us that need our sacrifices and adoration, while ignoring the cries of those who carry The Sacred Spirit in their earthly bodies. How convenient it is to imagine that there are births without blood and god babies without dirty diapers! Only a bunch of celibates and royalty with slaves to serve their real bodily needs could dream up such drivel.

I never saw my menstrual blood as sacred, as I'm sure any women who don't deeply desire motherhood would not. Neither do I see semen as sacred, where wasting a drop is sacrilege. We are all simply animals with the choice to be more than creatures of our genetics and histories. Making these choices is what turns homo sapiens into full humans

I want nothing more than to be treated as an equal in relationships, balancing my weaknesses and strengths with those of my partners. Is this too much to ask while I remain on this physical plane called our earth?

Monday, September 8, 2014

Fear-Free Faith

I recently finished reading "Unbroken" in which religious zealotry replaced PTSD. Does psychic/spiritual peace require that we erase what we know, that which we wish to forget? Must we deny what we heard with our own ears and what we have seen with our own eyes?

I also recently went, with a lifelong friend, to see the movie "The Giver," in which a utopia was developed where only one person in the community was allowed to remember anything. I, for many years, held this position in the lives of many family and friends. How convenient it is for others to confess their pain and/or sins to one person and simply walk away, unburdened.  I can attest to the great burden it is to be the sole crier in the wilderness of denial. Is there any thought to how heavy the baggage of the confessor has become?

Prophecy comes from insight into the past. Anyone who believes that prophecy is a gift has never been the one to whom that ability was given. Those who wish to deny their past memories will kill the prophet rather than face the inevitability of repetition in those who will not remember. I wonder if prophets wish they could shake off what they know and awaken with innocence, once again? I know I wish that I could. Maybe a lobotomy is in order.

How will homo sapiens ever stop repeating the stories of our past murderous mistakes unless we are willing to look squarely and honestly at all of them? Because the history of humanity continues to circle back on itself, in generation after generation, doesn't mean that we are doomed to act as simple-minded animals, following the blind faith of our fathers and mothers. In order to save The Sacred Spirit in our universe, we must all stop and critically look at what we have become and how we got where we are.

Religions that enforce rules with inflicting fear have been the norm since the beginning of what we know of homo sapiens. Isn't it time that we stop confusing awe in The Almighty with fear of a punishing father (or mother)?

The Pharisees and those that came from them believed in a spiritual life, as well as a physical life, while on earth and for eternity. Religious practice was bound by rules and rituals, but these rules and rituals did not necessarily bind or define the spirits of the adherents. The spirit of every act we inflict on another is carried into the generations that follow us, not only in eternity, but on our shared earth. How many more generations of hatred and war will it take until we "get it"?

I seems imperative to me that we stop looking for The Sacred Spirit outside of what we see and hear in each other and our physical earth. This would be the best way to honor The Spirit that is perishing for lack of our understanding about our earth. What we have and what we see and hear is a part of the continuum of creation. What we bind here is bound in eternity; what we loose here is lost in eternity. Our negative actions may be denied, but their consequences are not loosed with the denial of our painful memories. The energy infects our earth and spreads.

I have been bound by fear for much too long; I have loosed my fear in favor of awe in what I see and hear all around me. It is not with fear, but with great sadness that I observe so many who insist on dragging others to "faith" through fear. In my belief system, there is no death; there is only metamorphosis, so there is no fear of the end of this manifestation of my energy on earth. My energies, both positive and negative will go on in the universal entities that I have impacted. My hope is that what I give will be received as more blessings than curses, for many generations in the future.

It is very freeing to fear not life or what others see as death. I also have no fear of my future in this physical manifestation or whatever manifestations come next. My mission is simply to be available, if and when called to be a blessing. I am finally free from religion and have found fear-free faith!

Friday, September 5, 2014

What if We Women...?

What if we women raised traditionally could take a year off from being anybody's anything and find out who we really are underneath all the "shoulds"? Who would we be? How would we act?

Friday, August 29, 2014

Not the Nicene Creed

I have been asked if I believe in the Nicene creed; the answer is that I do not. I am suspicious of anything created by the Roman church hierarchy in partnership with political power, as was the Nicene Creed. The Nicene Creed seems to me a one upsmanship in the religious power game.

I believe in God, the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. (To put one human face on The Sacred Spirit diminishes the majesty of The Sacred Spirit's manifestations throughout the universe.)

And in Jesus Christ, his only son, our lord. (I believe that all who have ears to hear and eyes to see The Sacred Spirit share in the same Spirit that Jesus embodied on earth and freed up at Pentecost. We are told that Jesus said he was not our lord, but our brother and friend.)

Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, (as are all conceived in love).

Born of the virgin Mary. (I don't believe that virgin births were physically possible then. Even if a child is conceived without sexual intercourse, the act of giving vaginal birth breaks the seal of the womb, the hymen. I believe the fixation on virginity makes a travesty of the true process of sexual intercourse, gestation, and bloody births attended by frightened fathers.)

Suffered under Pontius Pilot, was crucified, dead and buried. (The fixation on the last three days of the life of Jesus are the stuff of warrior mythology. Jesus was a joyful Jew for many years; this is where I put my focus.)

On the third day, he rose again (who cares whether this was in his body or simply in the power presence those who loved him felt when they were gathered together?) and thence will come to judge the living and the dead. (While we live, we share our positive and negative power with all those we encounter. This energy lives on, so there is no need for judgement. It is all an eternal balancing act that we have no way to know, nor should we, how it ends.)

I believe in the Holy Ghost (Sacred Spirit), the Holy Catholic Church (not Roman catholic), the communion of saints (as all have the ability to be to some), the forgiveness of sin (through human restitution) and life everlasting (through metamorphosis). *This is what I believe.*

Monday, August 25, 2014

Jesus, the Man, as Mensch

Should we stop allowing only science to define when actual humans came into being? Should we redefine what it is that makes a member of the group of animals called homo sapiens fully human? Would we do anything differently, as a group of animals with varying abilities, if we placed new rules on human society and civilization? What if we stop believing that all homo sapiens are fully human?

I submit that what we need to use as the basic criteria for being fully human is responsible, committed compassion, where an individual is willing to give over one's own survival to the survival of the responsibly compassion of the next generation. This would mean a definition of species/tribe by practiced values, not by blood, baptisms, rituals, or creeds. I await the day that we think through who is in our species/tribes, rather than acting on ancestral memory which exacts unthinking loyalty and revenge, or on our animal instincts of survival of the most physically fit.

My Jewish friends are fond of the Yiddish word "Mensch." My understanding is that this is the highest designation for a fellow member of the species homo sapiens. It translates to "a real human." We need to look back at all the erudition of the Jews, and the fact that Jesus came from a long line of this people. Is there anything higher to which a homo sapiens can aspire than to be a real "mensch?" This is what I believe Jesus came to show us how to be.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Free From Feelings

A story about our mother was told to me by one of my sisters; I think this explains a lot of my frustration with people and teamwork. The story goes that, when my sisters descended on our mothers disastrous mess of a home in order to prepare it for a huge family function, my mother crawled under the sink and began to clean the pipes with a toothbrush. How many people are so overwhelmed by the vast mess we see on our earth that we spend our whole lives under the sink, polishing the pipes that are working just fine in their present states?

They have no idea how to plan for a party and they won't ask anyone else for a plan because that would make the planner 'the boss." They all simply wander around without direction looking for some tiny detail on which to concentrate all their energies. Quite often they are busy feeding baby birds that have fallen out of trees while their own children scream in their cribs.

This is how I experience prayer: It seems to me that people are simply polishing their crowns for the future that they imagine will be so much better than this one, without ever rolling up their sleeves to straighten up the present mess. I can never understand how heaven will be any better than earth since humans will still be their individual selves after death. I prefer to think that all my energy will be reabsorbed by the Big Bang going backward into the pureness of a Universal, Eternal, Shimmering, Shared Sacred Spirit of Pure Life.

I am frustrated because all those who I had hoped would be part of this party are too busy polishing their own individual pipes (or crowns) to help prepare for the party. Even when I peek under the sink to ask if they need anything, they seem to think I'm spying on them and may somehow steal some of the shine off their pipes. They hide their toothbrushes and tell me to go find my own pipes to polish. So I do, and then they are unhappy because my pipes are now made into a pipe organ that is inviting too may to come hear the music.

When I turn to the kitchen to cook, and give the pipe organ over to others, they become angry because I "think I'm better than them" even though I am now serving the rest of them, as if I am a slave. They then invite me to celebrations at which I am told that I can't have any of what they are serving, and are angry when I get hurt feelings over this.

The only conclusion I can come to is that they don't want me at their parties, even in the hereafter. This is okay because I don't want to be in my own little house, with my own lonely crown, competing for who sits longest on Daddy God's lap or who is on the right or left hand of King Jesus, for all eternity. I simply want to be absorbed, with all those I have loved, back into the Sacred Spirit from which I believe I came. They don't want to do this with me; that's okay, but it still hurts my feelings. I hope not to have any feelings in eternity.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Attachment to Our Flesh

How can humans have so much attachment to our flesh while continuing to profess belief in the supremacy of The Sacred Spirit that is only housed in our exterior shells? There seems to be a disconnect between what we say we believe and the ways we live our lives, especially during times in which we are threatened by becoming, through physical metamorphosis of "death," existent only in our spiritual states. What are we to make of the differences between the ways the other animals adhere to their physical existences and the ways those who profess faith in eternal life adhere to theirs?

At least men are allowed to die with honor; while women with family responsibilities are blamed for our own deaths, as if we meant to abandon our posts as caretakers. Widowers become sainted; widows become prey. This seems to all originate with warrior and savior myths in primitive societies of homo sapiens. Is it any wonder that I reject the many gods to whom these people pray?  In my opinion, rising above these superstitions and bloody sacrifices makes homo sapiens fully human.

I am sickened by the idea that any of us have any culpability, either from our ancestors or ourselves, for the unearned pain that pervades our lives. Those who say that the pain put upon some and not others is all in "God's" plan are not earning any adherents to the religions of these ancient superstitious ancestors. They are simply making matters more complicated for those looking for justice as a meaning in life. There are no "gods;" there are only incarnations of Eternal Energy. Some of these manifestations are Sacred. How each of us exemplifies and inhabits every incarnation and experience creates an aura that lives along with, and beyond, our individual physical manifestations of life on earth.

Many years ago, a wise man told me that the problem with treating people in chronic pain is that so many take pain personally, as if they were given a specific penance on earth. I have also come to realize that many people invent pain because they feel that this gets them closer to their "God." How can either attitude be healthy for those of us on earth? Why would anyone want to be close to a "God" who demands pain and/or bloody death, especially as punishment for ancient transgressions of others?

My hunger for inclusion in the purity of The Sacred Spirit is so great that it takes away my breath. I have trouble interrupting the visions of complete inclusion to relate to the physical world around me. It is physically painful to have to continue dragging around this body that seems to be a barrier between me and all The Sacred Spirits of those who have come before me and impact my life every day. If I were a theologian or a saint, it would be called, "Holy longing," but for we mere mortals, it is often called craziness or depression.

There is no individual me; there is only a shell that walks, talks, sings, cries, laughs, cook, cleans for so many stranded spirits that can't do so for themselves. This is the life to which I was born; I only hope someone will be there to hold and absorb the last of my Sacred Spirit me when it is my time to let go of this flesh for good.

Monday, August 18, 2014

An Earth Fit For Eternity

I believe the lack of religion in so many is a necessary step in allowing The Sacred Spirit to resurface from the roots, which originate long before Genesis, and even longer before Jesus. We must graft ourselves and our families directly to the source of life, without any intermediaries pretending to produce a better path (or stronger plant).

What we are currently calling "Christianity," I see as being so wrong for so long that the only way to save the root is to cut the vine completely down to the ground and allow new sprouts to form. Too much bad has been grafted onto the strong, pure root stock to produce pure fruit of The Sacred Spirit. When we are wrong for so many generations, it is difficult to get back to our original roots. There is none of the true vine left; it has been poisoned by too much sweet sympathy masquerading as committed, responsible compassion.

When Jesus walked the earth, he was not a preacher in a mega church, nor was he a high priest performing every manner of ritualistic sacrifice. He was a joyful Jew who walked with family and friends, following in the footsteps of generations of very faithful Jews. Where did that Jesus go? How did religion turn the great love that Jesus had for his friends, causing him to accept death at the hands of those jealous of his influence, into a pagan blood ritual to appease an equally jealous, vengeful "God?" How did religion turn an intimate sacred supper with friends and family into a sterile stage play, with so much ceremony masquerading as sacred, soulful communion among a committed community?

When faith moved out of the homes and neighborhoods, it lost the ways of what Jesus radiated, a pureness of Sacred Spirit that made others so angry that they killed him in order to stop seeing his light. As with all truly great people, The Spirit of Jesus had already inflamed all that he encountered. No amount of torture, or even physical death, could dim this in those others. His roots had been growing for so many generations that the vine would continue to come back, no matter what was done to it.

When those who sought spiritual power "converted" others with threats of torture and death, sprouts of poison were grafted onto The Sacred Spirit's root. The vine has rotted from the inside out. The fruit is now poisoned. The "Holy" Roman Empire has poisoned the soil from which Jesus came, and has fed too many generations with their sweet tasting poison. It is time for all people of faith in The Sacred Spirit available to all humanity to repudiate the religion formed in  all unholy alliances of church and state. It is time to reclaim the roots of our ancestral Sacred Spirit, and share it as it was meant to be shared, one earthly entity to another.

I believe that Moses came from this stock, as did others who have sought to take others on the path to the full humanity of responsible, committed compassion, which takes many years to form in one person. It takes centuries to form in a community of people. We have made The Most Sacred Spirit into our own images, and have created a culture of jealousy and greed. Only by going back to The Base will we create an earth that is fit for eternity.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Kill the Killers and Leave Our Children Alone

If the suicides of several of our favorite funny men teaches us only one thing, it should be that men are in great pain, while pretending that they are having fun. They have been taught, from before birth, that real men don't cry or show weakness in the front of others. This is because they are expected to live in a world where homo sapiens act like simple-minded animals, and they are treated as such. They know that any show of weakness is an invitation to predators to finish them off. Maddeningly, the biggest bullies often including their own fathers and other adult authority figures.

Why do women continue to bear children with men who have proven themselves to be such bullies and inhuman beasts? Isn't it time that we teach our sons that we want them in the house with us, not out defending themselves against all the bullies who line up against them? Isn't it time that we shut our doors, hearts, spirit, arms, and legs to homo sapiens who act as wild beasts?

I abhor adults who make themselves more powerful in the eyes of others by ridiculing those different than they are, especially when the victim of ridicule has no defense against the bully. A child is not supposed to be an adult in any way; they are to be protected and taught by example until they are ready to cut the ties from those who have protected and guided them. This is the gift and the challenge of human parenting; the more human we want our children to become, the longer it takes before they are ready to stand on their own.

Only the children know when they reach this point, and it is often in a boomerang manner, hoping to get what they needed from us, or others, before they left the first time (...and the second, and the third...). Often they are angry that they don't find all that they want in our nests; this is when very strong friendships with other well-grounded adults come into play for us. The most blessed parents are those who have this kind of friendship with their parenting partners.

I have found it extremely important in my family life to have very well-defined rules for what we allow in our home. Children will all attempt to break those boundaries down by dragging in every manner of stray. Even the strays are expected to step in line with the rules of the family. To allow otherwise actually weakens the trust the children have that you are strong enough to protect them.

Teenagers, like infants, are supposed to be somewhat narcissistic.  The big difference is that, with years of example and empowerment from committed, compassionate parents, teenagers can begin to choose where to invest their human potential and efforts. Too often, especially in men, I see a tendency to act as teenagers again just as their sons and daughters so greatly need them to be strong adults. In women, I often see the tendency to want to be princesses rather than step to the plate as full adult managers of their own homes and families. If we are parents, we are no longer "girls" or "one of the boys." It is our jobs to put the needs of our family and the community that helps us support them above what we want (and sometimes above what we need).

The play at feeling no pain as we kill our own children and ourselves must end! It is time to stop playing at being royalty, creating chaos with endless wars. We must all act as committed, compassionate adults at the appropriate ages. Either we choose this path, or risk being treated as nothing other than wild animals threatening our defined home boundaries. I am in favor of mercifully killing all who have no ability or intent to act as full humans, as I would treat a pack of wild hyenas attacking my children and home. Drones seem to be good for this, killing the wild beasts while protecting the children and their homes.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Accountability and Authority

As long as religions use fear as a motivator, so too will others in authority. What can possible cause more fear than the belief that another person, priest, prophet, pastor has the power to affect your happiness for all of eternity? It is bad enough that might on earth is often the arbiter of what is considered right; it is so much more damaging when we are taught that there are those on earth with the power to influence the "gods" and all eternity.

When we grant authority over our eternal destinies to others, we become children with no authority over ourselves. Why would anyone want this to be a permanent position in their own lives? Isn't it enough that, as true children, we are subject to the whims of those who are stronger than are we?

As a pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic child, I was taught that I was responsible for my own actions at the age of eight. This responsibility gave me no authority, however. All authority over me and my parents was held by the Roman Catholic hierarchy. Only they had the right to dictate our behaviors and prescribe restitution and retribution. My intensely devout Roman Catholic parents followed the lead of their church, as did my older brother and sister.

It is indescribable how horrible it felt to know that I was incapable of saving myself from this tyranny, as the teaching of the church cursed all who came under its power with an eternal mark on the psyche (soul?). "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic" was the mantra of all associated with their teachings.

Early on, I don't remember the church teaching that they were a Christian church, only referring to us and themselves as Catholic, as if this included, and was the exclusive body of Jesus on earth. All who were not Roman Catholic, according to my early education, were not destined for eternal salvation and peace. Only the laying on of priestly hands in the sacraments ensured an eternity with "God" and Jesus. Only the priests had the power to remove sins, even those that the priests committed against us.

The Roman church had absolute authority, not only over our peace on earth, but also over our eternities. Unfortunately, they granted themselves immunity from any responsibility for their own actions, absolving each other as a matter of course. For this reason, I have defected from the city/state/church/religion of the Vatican and Rome, though still maintaining my inclusion in the body of Jesus on this earth.

I have studied the beliefs of many religions, all of which seem to operate on fear of eternal exclusion from a special group of those who believe themselves to be the arbiters of what is right for all on earth and in eternity. Is there any religion on earth that doesn't profess to have the power to damn us to an eternity of pain? Is there any religion on earth that doesn't put human and other physical faces on the immense, eternal energy that encompasses and embodies all in our vast universe, thus limiting the limitless manifest experiences of The Sacred? Is there any religion on earth that actually seeks to create heavenly harmony on earth, as well as in eternity?

If I am to be held accountable for my actions, I must have authority over myself. I may not always be able to make right what I have made wrong on this earth, and nobody on earth has the power to simply make the consequences of my actions simply disappear. It is my responsibility to make my own amends, where possible. This is a burden I am willing to bear, trusting that in the fullness of eternity, the balance of peaceful harmony will prevail, when the universe is ready for the immensity of The Sacred Spirit.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Abuse, Abortion, the Unborn, and the Inhuman

I am convinced that it is better to return the unborn to the universe while they cannot anticipate pain than it is to wait until they are forced onto uncaring parents and society that will surely abuse them, perhaps even before they are born. I am also convinced that there are those who cannot stop themselves from harming others for whom suicide may be the most noble path. I feel this is especially true for those who have a compulsion to take the innocence away from children. Only we can expose others to responsible, committed compassion, human-to-human, otherwise we cannot become fully human ourselves, and neither can our offspring.

The question uppermost in my mind in recent times has been, "Are all homo sapiens actually fully human?" I have come to this question while pondering the nature of evil on our earth. How is it that we continue to consider those without compassion as equal in humanity to those who live their lives seeking committed, compassionate community with others? It seems to me that there are many animals with words who appear to be human, until we look deeply into their eyes and actions. These animals have no light of unselfish love in their eyes; therefore, I believe them to be something less than human.

I believe that there are many who are born without the ability to have compassion, as they are born to animals, even homo sapiens, without this ability in themselves. I question that animals gestated, born and bred in trauma, drug addiction, war, or other abuse will ever be able to retrain their brains to any other way of looking at life. It is difficult enough for those with solidly safe backgrounds to overcome the effects of abuse and other trauma.

Unwanted pregnancy surely produces different chemicals in the system of the fetus than does the wanted pregnancy. These chemicals must permanently affect the brain of the future child. The same is probably true for the fetus "fed" drugs throughout gestation. The ability of the baby homo sapien to connect emotionally may not exist when the baby is born, or ever.

Another issue facing the brains of unwanted babies seems to be the lack of emotional connection between the baby and the primary caregiver(s). It seems to me that emotion, like speech, is learned as much by eye contact and other physical observation as it is in any other manner. Do we know when it is too late to intervene in the absence of parental or caregiver compassion for baby homo sapiens?

Even those with the capacity for compassion can revert back to their more base animal selves during trauma and PTSD. Those who have seemingly overcome their immediate animal instincts often lose all human reason when PTSD presents old injuries as happening in the here and now. This observation is what leads me to support abortion and to accept some suicides as acts of nobility.

Forcing evil homo sapiens to bear more of the same seems to be counter to creating peace on earth. I, for one, am happy to accept the narcissistic decision to live only for oneself, as long as the inhuman are willing to totally support and isolate themselves. Barring this, I support permanent isolation of them, with easy access to ways to end their own lives.

Perhaps if we redefine what it means for a homo sapien to be human, we can make progress toward peace on earth, as it is a heaven.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

An A-theist Fishing Fantasy

I am an a-theist, in that I don't believe in any personification of the power of the universe, other than what we experience in the energy made into matter and other experiential manifestations in our own universe. We can all access "god"force  in all that we see, hear, touch, smell, think, and feel. The miracle of humanity, as compared to being a simple Homo sapien or Homo erectus, is that we can choose for ourselves what universal forces we embrace and bring into our own bodies. This takes self-discipline that can only be learned by observing others exercise this ability.

I don't believe in priests or shamans who have special powers to pull The Sacred out of the universe and impart The Sacred to lesser beings. I believe that full humans teach their young, like what we call the "lower" animals, by example. It matters not what blessings or curses others call down upon us or our offspring, they will learn what we model and assist them in mastering.

Because of the complexity of human life, it takes many more years to teach our human children than it does for other animals to become self-sufficient. The commitment we must make to behaving ourselves in a manner that is beneficial to our offspring, both in our tribe and outside of it, is great. We must be constantly vigilant regarding those who attempt to take our children away from us, both physically and in spirit.

It is difficult for human parents to know when to let go. It often feels as if we are fishing, letting out a little line and allowing them to swim away, only to have to reel them back into our boats. When they finally cut the line and swim away, the emotion can be overwhelming. We are tired of fighting the tension on the long lines of parenthood of human children, so we are relieved. Simultaneously, we are lost. The ways that we have lived for so many decades have become habit for us. How do we use these old "muscle memories?"

Some of us insist on meddling in the lives of our grown offspring, not trusting that we have imparted to them all the strengths that they need to survive. Some insist that their children produce more children that they will then guide. I am at a point where I am free to cast my line in unfamiliar waters, trolling for any who may want to be on my line. I tried allowing my "muscle memories" to atrophy, but they continued to twitch for a new challenge. I now am a mentor to some from across the oceans, and this is very satisfying to me.

My mission is to help others experience The Sacred in all around them and endeavor to impart the importance of living in this light to their own offspring and all they encounter in our universe.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Weak Woman

I have had trouble dealing with the women in my life for as long as I can remember. I have come to the conclusion that I've simply been dealing with the wrong women.

We southern women have been brought up to be duplicitous. Never are we to tell the truth if a sweet lie will keep everyone calm. To refuse a weeping woman anything her southern heart desires is seen by all bystanders as the worst kind of abuse. It is absolutely unheard of that one should continue to say no to a sweet southern woman who takes to her bed until one comes to his or her senses. A sweet southern woman simply doesn't understand the word "no," even though she uses it very freely herself.

Of course, with a southern woman of breeding, all meaning is in, not the words, but in the tilt of the head, the flinging of the hair, the look in the eyes, and the vocal inflections.  Unless one learns how to interpret the silent signals, one never knows what a southern woman really wants or means. This can be very dangerous, as a wronged sweet southern woman can be quite like a cobra. One never knows when, why, or where she will strike, but her strikes are usually deadly.

I have given up on southern sweetness, along with all the saintly sisters without any admitted sins. Since I still live in the south, this makes me out to be a ball-busting bitch in the eyes of those of strong southern breeding. I'll wear the label, but I will no longer carry the responsibility for the lack of courage in others.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Ancestral Attachments

I honestly have never understood attachments to people, places, or properties. I carry the spirit of all of these with me wherever I go. Every person, place, and thing that ever impacted me on a conscious level still lives vividly in my present through the human mind's miracle of memory.

I learned very early in life that I had no control over my physical destiny, so I began to repeat the stories of who, what, when, and where to myself on an endless loop. The saddest experience for me is in understanding that others need physical continuity in order to feel that they are centered in their own lives, and that many refuse to share in memory what we shared in experience.

It is my experience that when we live fully aware of what is going on around us, our pasts and our present become melded as one. I cannot see my grown children without also seeing them as infants. I feel the same way with all that allow me into their spiritual selves.

I don't mean to have others feel as if they have been stripped naked. I obviously, wrongly assumed that we all felt naked. How foolish I have been in assuming that intimacy was a universal need, or that any wanted to embrace true intimacy with me.

How I wish that all Homo sapiens felt comfortable emotionally naked in front of each other. Perhaps then we could bury our long-dead ancestors' issues with each other and embrace peace.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

No Priests or Prayers for Me

I finally came to the realization that it wasn't my fear that was holding me back from being the biggest, boldest blessing I could be. It was the fears of my family and friends, who still believe that other people have the power of eternal life and death spells over us.

I have been involved in too many near-death and death scenes not to have given a great deal of thought to what happens from the time of drawing our last physical breath until the time the earth ends. I have searched the scriptures and asked everyone I knew, but could get no answers that simply seemed true to me. In a few recent Eureka moments, precipitated by a long-awaited silly time with my daughter and her youngest daughter, I finally feel good with what I know to be true for me.

I am catholic down to the marrow of my bones; not the Vatican brand, but the brand of being catholic that leads me to embrace the universe as my friends and family. I have suffered greatly at the hands of those who continue to attack me to see where my boundaries actually end. The fact that I don't react to others in traditional ways has, more than once, put me in jeopardy . Those who really love me have noticed this and many have simply given up on attempts at saving me from myself.

It is reasonable to rely on the shared boundaries of one's immediate family to sort out which behaviors are good for the group and which ones are detrimental. It is not reasonable to have one's friends and family who have no dependence on one's continued life define the boundaries for oneself. This is the glory of old age; we can stop having others dependent on us.

I love to laugh with those I like. I also cry with great abandon. I am sorry for those who aren't tough enough to take big bursts of me, but I will no longer allow their boundaries make me feel badly about my own. In an effort to make it possible to be anywhere but in a private padded cell together, I generally establish what is appropriate behavior for any given public situation. I also avoid most public situations where laughter and other forms of passionate interchange are not allowed or accepted.

At the time of my death, I want no priests and prayers to the gods that rule the lives of others. I have full faith that the huge energy I have shared with others will live on after my physical shell is long gone. I don't want another physical shell, and certainly hope all who believe in such things as resurrection of the body don't wish such a thing on me.

I have had a recurring dream, ever since my daughter was threatened with death. It is that I could, at will, breathe in deeply enough to rise above all the earth and fly; not with wings, but with the sheer power of my spirit. I look forward to the day that my spirit is freed from dragging along the old hag that keeps it too close to the ground and unable to simultaneously see, hear, and feel all my friends on earth. What a party that will be, in so many languages and colors!

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Sticks and Stones

I live my life for the written word, because only those words can we be held to. There is a saying, "Say it and forget it; write it and regret it." I absolutely abhor that saying and that way of thinking. Words can be as harmful to the life of the spirit as swords are to the life of the flesh. Those who say what they will and then deny any responsibility for having said it are usually guilty of self-delusion. Any words that don't fit into their views of themselves simply could not have come from their mouths.

The denial of their actions adds insult to the injury. It is to call into question the sanity of those attacked. This, in my opinion, is the worst form of bullying, when one hides from what one has done behind a facade of lost memory. It isn't even as deep as lost memory, as it wasn't deemed important enough to the attacker to be paid attention to as it happened. This leaves the attacked emotionally bleeding, while others continue to believe in the friendly facade of the attacker. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words denied by friends can make me feel crazy.

I have no use for parroted phrases, no matter how powerful they may be to some. Unless a person is willing to attach enough thought to how a phrase has actually impacted or inspired their own experience, and is willing to put that into words that can be dissected and discussed, it seems to me not worth sharing. Passion is personal for me; I don't enjoy following mindless crowds.

How can it be that whole societies can be taught to deny what they see and hear with their own eyes and ears? What is it in humans that we are taught to avoid the danger signals that our animal instincts were fine-tuned to pick up? We wear perfumes to hide the animal smells that should tip us off about aggressive instincts of others, and learn to look into other than a person's eyes to see what is in the spirit.

I would rather live a life with one true friend than many lifetimes with multitudes of mindless admirers.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Cautionary Tales and New Creation

Every time a woman or child cries in despair, I cry with him or her.
We simply can't control what we're brought into when we are born.
There are men who have achieved ascendance climbing onto others;
The rest of us have to live our lives under these white men's heels.

I am a white, attractive woman, living among my appointed peers,
And the thought of how we agree to present ourselves sickens me.
I wish I had the strength of even one of my past black employees,
Those who served me as their mistress and returned home to families.

I was reared for beauty and cunning, not to be an example of success.
White males were to be the masters of their family's and the world's fate.
It mattered not what sins they committed against family or community;
We were to all bound, or be rejected, in protecting their supremacy.

Until women stop obtaining their strength to fight injustice from children,
And until men cherish the women that produce their sacred progeny,
Their is no hope of bringing only cherished children into our world,
And no hope for all protecting our children from the destruction of war.

We continue to produce more young men as expendable creators
Of children and themselves to feed the maws of ancient  retribution.
We force women to carry and birth children that they don't accept,
Only to have more angry animals taught none of the ways of humanity.

When will we forget the fights handed on by our ancient ancestors,
And accept our responsibility to create our own human society?
The words of the ancients are seen by me as cautionary tales,
Not as the instructions for the ways humans are meant to be.