Remember The Ritual [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

One week from today is Boxing Day. The day after Christmas.

If you seek a symptom for the source of the troubles of our world, you need only look at Boxing Day. Boxing Day was once a day to donate gifts to those in need, but it has evolved to become a part of Christmas festivities, with many people choosing to shop for deals…” I’m not trying to be cynical. I’m trying to point out the obvious.

I’m re-reading Martin Prechtel’s book, Long Life Honey In The Heart. It’s a book about the Tzutujil initiation into maturity. “Initiation was mandatory in those days and constituted the beginning of adulthood. This rite of passage, however, was not what made you into an adult. This first initiation only made you ripe enough to continue on in a lifelong pursuit of turning yourself into an adult, on through the next three layers of service to the village.”

Can you imagine a community in which service to others is the very pursuit that defines the achievement of adulthood?

According to the Tzutujil ideal, very few of us in this nation turn ourselves into adults. In fact, if you look at the incoming administration, it’s easy to see the absence of adults – grown bodies stuck in adolescent minds and obsessed with self-increase. Service to the community – the point of governance – is nowhere to be found. They are – without exception – men and women of our time.

It is not an understatement or any great revelation to suggest that we have lost our way. We’ve confused money with morality and follow business gain as our north star. Business is a lousy organizing principle for a community. It has its place, certainly. The unbridled levers of business too easily lead to exploitation. Additionally, everything should not run like a business, especially service organizations like healthcare or education. Or religious institutions. Or the arts. Or government. Some things are sacred and business is not one of them. Personal gain at any cost – has a cost – and it is the unity of the community.

We see yard signs everywhere that read, “Keep Christ in Christmas,” to which Kerri responds, “How about keeping Christ in Christianity?”

It’s a pattern. Where the health of the community is involved there are two paths: one is service and the other is self-service. One way leads to cohesion and the other to disillusion. We should not be surprised that our leaders are infantile and our religious holidays subvert giving for gain.

Maybe the place to restart our journey toward a healthy nation is to begin the pursuit of turning ourselves into adults; reinforce in each other the development of a healthy inner life. Perhaps, since we are hellbent on turning back time, we should begin by remembering and practicing the original ritual of Boxing Day.

a work in progress

read Kerri’s blogpost about REEDS

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Use The Discrepancy [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Every once in a while I flip open one of my well-loved-and-well-worn books to a random page and read a few paragraphs. It’s my way of giving this wise-old universe the opportunity to drop a pertinent message on me. What tidbit of wisdom might I need to hear today?

Yesterday I opened Robert Fritz’s book, The Path Of Least Resistance, and began reading about discrepancy: what is the difference between where you are right now and what you want to create? I read that most people try to remove or deny their discrepancies. They try to eliminate the tension. Artists, on the other hand, understand their discrepancies as fuel. Creative tension. Discrepancy ignites the imagination. The last thing an artist wants to do is blunt their imagination, deny the discrepancy. An artist uses it. It’s a “process focus” rather than an “achievement focus”.

At the stop sign she stopped just shy of the bumper of the car in front of us, pulled out her camera and snapped a photo of the sticker on the window: I hope something good happens to you today. “Now that’s refreshing,” she said. In our travels we see plenty of aggressive bumper messages. Almost daily Kerri asks, “Why would they put THAT on their car? Jeeeeez!”

A wish for something good to happen to you. Today. What is the distance between us-as-a-nation right now, in this very dark moment, and a community that actually hopes for something good to happen to and for everyone? Can you imagine it? Walking in the world with a hope in your heart for good things to happen to everyone you meet, to everyone whose path you cross?

It is an understatement to suggest that there’s quite a discrepancy between what-is and what-could-be. There is a veritable chasm between the incoming angry nightmare and those who voted for hope, decency and kindness. And so it’s a vital time to be an artist. There’s rarely been a time more in need of imagination to counter the backward-looking-conservative-fascist-fantasy.

There’s plenty of fuel for the imagination borne of our massive discrepancy. Hoping for something good to happen to you today – whoever you are – is a great place to start.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOMETHING GOOD

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Caterpillar Kindness [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

It seems an odd time of year to see caterpillars. I am not a caterpillar expert. I’m not even a caterpillar novice so my perception of caterpillar oddity is based on nothing. Were we at a party and the conversation swung to caterpillars, I’d express my baseless opinion with forceful conviction. “Isn’t it strange!” I’d proclaim, “Caterpillars on the trail in the fall! Who’s ever heard of such a thing!” My conviction would have the other party-goers nodding their heads in agreement. Conviction without substance would make me a man of my times.

Of course, confessing my caterpillar ignorance compelled me to consult with the great oracle Google. I do not want to be a man of my times. As it turns out, as nature would have it, as is easily found with a simple-one-second search, Woolly Bear Caterpillars are abundant in the fall. They will someday transmogrify into Isabella Tiger Moths. And, as folklore would have it, farmer’s lore, the severity of the upcoming winter might be predicted based on the color of its bands. Fuzzy black indicates a harsh winter. Abundant brown bands indicate a milder winter. This fully black fuzzy caterpillar has me dusting off my snow shovel.

There is, however, a caveat: the great oracle Google was careful to note that the caterpillar-color-winter-prediction-method is not scientifically accurate. It is not as reliable as The National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration. By-the-by, NOAA is on the cut-list of the incoming administration. Who needs science when there’s an unreliable old-farmer’s-tale-method of weather prediction!

Another Woolly Bear Caterpillar weather prediction myth is based on the direction it is traveling. If it is scootching along in a southerly direction, that indicates to old-farmer-information-less believers a severe winter. If it is wiggling its way north, then the winter is meant to be mild. I didn’t have my compass on the day that we saw this caterpillar crossing the path but I can assume by its full-black-fuzziness that it was sprinting to the south. Again, Google cautions that the caterpillar-direction-method-of-winter-severity is unreliable, not scientifically accurate.

This is the only part of this post that is verifiable: had we been on a path traveled by bicycles, Kerri would have lifted the Woolly Bear Caterpillar from the path and carried it out of harm’s way. She wants to do everything in her power to ensure that the little critter will meet its miraculous destiny and awake someday as an Isabella Tiger Moth. In this case, we watched it all the way until it reached the far side and disappeared into the fall grasses. I could tell that part of the story at a party and be absolutely certain that I was relaying accurate information. I have data. And experience. I’ve seen her caterpillar kindness with my own eyes.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATERPILLARS

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An End Thought [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“I will not win all of my battles and neither will you. But if we do our best with intelligence, compassion and love, that will be enough – it has to be enough. And, that way, though each outcome may not be what we wanted or hoped for, at least each day we can be proud of who we are.” ~ Elizabeth Glaser

As we continue our dedicated house-clean and rearranging-fest, part of our campaign of distraction from the ugly turn of events in our nation, we found this framed quote in a closet. We removed the quote from its frame and put it in a special spot. The frame is en route to Goodwill.

We kept the quote because it exactly identifies the source of our discord. “…if we do our best with intelligence, compassion and love, that will be enough…” As a nation, we did not do our best. Compassion and love are nowhere visible in the despot-wanna-be and his maga-cult. And as for intelligence…well, I’ve written enough on that score. Intelligence fled the nation, red-faced with embarrassment.

The outcome of the election was most certainly not what we wanted or hoped for – and that is not the heart-of-the-matter. The issue is this: as my dear friend MM wrote following the election, “This is the first time in my life that I’m ashamed to be an American.” Here, here.

We did not do our best. In fact, we forwarded the worst. Sans compassion. Sans love. Sans intelligence. A rapist. A sexual predator. A felon. A reality tv figure, six-times bankrupt – posing as a businessman. Amoral. A racist. A blatant grifter. And demonstrably in mental decline.

Joan taught us a new word: Kakistocracy: government by the least suitable or competent citizens of a state. One need only take a look at the cabinet appointments. “A junk drawer,” as someone quipped. Another wrote, “It’s a clown car.” It’s cringe-worthy.

We bumped into the other Joan at the store. She shared that her “philosophical friends” suggested that nations must go through periods like this in order to grow, a national splitting-of-the-tree-bark. I hope that is the case but, honestly, I don’t think it is. I don’t think Joan believed it either.

Like us, she’s scratching the scorched commons for understanding, wondering what happened to the intelligence, love, and compassion of many in her community; her neighbors, family and friends. Like us, mortified by the people who voted for hate, who turned a blind eye to indecency and all that the tyrant and his budding oligarchs represent – she does not want in-any-way to be included in any form of “we”.

Kerri played this brief instagram video while I was wrestling with an end-thought. This says it all [close the “see more” pop up and make sure to unmute the sound]

read Kerri’s blogpost about WITH OR WITHOUT

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Wound Together [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

In my mind it is a toss-up. Whether we are witnessing the collapse of our system or the reaffirmation of the system, doing exactly what it was designed to do.

We listened to an interview with Isabel Wilkerson. She said that through the lens of caste, this divisive time, maga and the election make perfect sense.

Perfect sense. Our system was designed and constructed along a distinct line of division, black and white. Initially, the division kept the indentured and the enslaved at each others’ throats so they didn’t turn their eyes and ire on the ruling class. The army protecting the elite was an ocean away. Division was – and is – protection. It’s the first chapter in the colonialist’s handbook. Divide the people. It’s discussed at length in our nation’s colonial legislative record.

And so, here we are again. The system is doing what it was designed to do. Amplifying the divide, keeping we-the-masses distracted by focusing our ire on each other instead of the burgeoning oligarchy currently salivating to exploit us and our cheap labor.

Systems are living things and will fight to the death when threatened. As Isabel Wilkerson suggested, this is the system reasserting itself. Unity threatens it.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? A true paradox. This caste divide works like dna strands, fibers wound and bound together by their opposition. The force that binds us is division. We are a fractal of disunity.

The strands:

The maga right spits the word “woke” but to date has failed completely to define what that means.

The progressive left spits the word, “ignorant” and has no doubt what that means. I am guilty of wielding this word.

The “woke” believe in equality and unity.

The maga right is hyper-protected against “woke” notions of equality and unity because their media has steeped their minds in the bogey-man-word, “socialism.” I am certain, just like the word “woke”, they have no idea what socialism means or how it is as distinct from equality as lived in a democratic society. I am also certain they don’t want to know what the word means.

It’s “woke” to know what words mean. It’s un-woke to obey without question.

The woke want to know. The un-woke do not care to know. The woke want to dissolve the caste system. The un-woke do not. The woke see societal gain in unity and equality. The un-woke see personal loss of privilege and power. Woke and un-woke wound together by the gravity of their division.

The flashpoints in our history – like the Civil War or the Civil Rights movement – happen when the people, the indentured and enslaved, begin to question the falseness of the division, when they dare to turn their eyes away from each other and turn their unified eyes toward the ruling caste, and begin asking questions. The flashpoints occur when we-the-people step toward the promise of a more perfect union.

The flashpoints are aptly named. Civil (adjective): relating to ordinary citizens and their concerns…Civil War. Civil Rights. Ordinary citizens attempting to challenge the gravity of their false-division. I wonder what historians will name our current flashpoint?

Systems are living things and will fight to the death when threatened.

Is the fascism fast approaching the death of the system? Or, is it the caste system, threatened by the actual promises of democracy, liberty and justice for all, reasserting itself? Or both?

The path toward the promise of our democracy begins with curiosity and questioning, an openness to ideas and others. It requires a populace dedicated to learning rather than book-banning and indoctrination. It facilitates opening eyes rather than closing hearts.

I look forward to the day that the un-woke awaken and see how completely they are being exploited, suppressed and taken for a fascist ride. Maybe then we can unite, turn our eyes and focus our ire where it belongs and, once and for all, turn the page on this hateful colonist’s game.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FIBERS

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About Peace [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

My dear Judy checked in. She was worried for me since my recent posts have been dark. Her outreach came at a good time since I have been aware of the difference between what I am currently writing and what I am experiencing as I write. For this moment in time, for my journey in this life, what I am writing may sound dark but it couldn’t be more positive.

I was writing notes to myself to try and articulate why, for me, my posts are so life-affirming, when Kerri showed me this video. I couldn’t have written a better or more clear description. If you haven’t yet seen this, take four minutes and watch it. Take it in.

I have spent much of my life attempting to “keep the peace”. Mostly, that has meant withholding my voice. To be silent in an effort not to stir the pot. To not be contradictory and rock the boat. It has never really worked. What I have achieved is voice-less-ness; laughable, I know, since I write a blog six days a week – but true. I have until recently been very careful to edit thoughts that might offend. I have consciously attended to calming the ripples of other’s feelings more than the honest expression of my own.

This video nicely encapsulates the imperative I now feel. Peace demands that we speak up for each other. Peace demands that we stand up and say, “This isn’t right.” Peace demands that we look at elected Republicans and ask, “Where is your spine? And, if you can’t find your spine, can you possibly locate your moral compass? Either will do. Either serve us in this moment.”

Peace demands that we look at ourselves and ask the same two questions. And then give voice to our disgust and outrage. An arsonist is setting our house on fire. Many people are being burned. Many more are in danger. This is no time to smile sweetly and pretend or to play peacekeeper. A lesson from Gandhi who was not silent. An example set by Martin Luther King, Tarana Burke and so many others. They were loud. They are loud. Their aim is peace.

For me – and for you – there is no peace in silence or pretending. As I am learning, we become centered, unified and stronger when we speak up and speak out.

read Kerri’s blogpost about VOICE

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The Terms Of The Bargain [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Well, it is nothing short of Faustian.

In the tale, Faust makes a pact with Mephistopheles, the devil, exchanging his soul for unlimited power and material gain. Nothing can touch him for the term of the bargain: the span of his lifetime.

We are living at a moment in time when truth is stranger than fiction, a time in which fiction has made a stranger of truth.

The despot-elect is currently scheduled to be sentenced for his 34 felony convictions on November 26. The opinion prior to the election:

“It’s 50/50” that he gets sentenced in November, said Karen Friedman Agnifilo, a former top official at the Manhattan district attorney’s office and a CNN legal analyst. “If he loses the election, I think he gets sentenced, and I think he gets sentenced to prison. If he wins, I don’t think this goes forward.” She added, “A victory on Election Day, she added, is “his get out of jail free card.”

A “get out of jail free card”. An appropriate analogy since it refers to the game of Monopoly, where money amassers gain dominance over the board and rise above the rules. Money in our real-world-game allows delays-to-justice to stretch into eternity.

In addition to being found guilty of 34 felonies in his Hush Money case, there are three other federal indictments: Federal Election Interference, Georgia Election Interference, and the Classified Documents case. What will happen to these indictments? Poof! The moment he steps into office, they go away. The “get out of jail free” card is the presidency.

We are learning that there is, in fact, not justice for all.

In literature there are two endings to the story of Faust. In the early version, the term of the bargain expires (he dies), Mephistopheles claims his soul and carts him off to hell. In the later version, Goethe’s version, scrubbed clean for those who like Hallmark happy endings, Faust is redeemed. Gretchen, the woman he used and abused, pleads with the divine to spare him. The eternal feminine redeems him. Plucked from the arms of Mephistopheles, the divine swoops in and saves Faust from himself, from fulfilling the terms of his bargain.

Faust got his cake and ate it, too. No lessons learned. No responsibility for choices or actions. No justice for all the people Faust used, exploited, ruined, and chucked away.

Redemption for a soulless man is a fine ending for an opera.

In real life, not so much.

Is there justice for all? Not according to the supreme court.

Is there justice for all? Not according to the voting public.

Is there justice for all? Not according to the republican party that twice refused to find him guilty when impeached. The evidence was clear for all to see and hear. It was broadcast across the world. And then, poof! Get out of jail free.

Is there justice for all? We’ll see on November 26 but I wouldn’t bet on it. I’m not a big believer in devils and gods but watching this horror-story-of-a-human-being repeatedly skate away from his crimes and ascend again to power is making me wonder. This time around, he can pillage with court-granted-immunity. Mephisto-Impunity.

It has made me wonder if Mephistopheles is giggling at the possibility of a much bigger score: the despot-elect might just help him walk away with the soul of our nation.* It is, I suspect, the terms of their bargain.

*We are a nation of laws. Justice for all is not simple rhetoric. It is the the north-star of our nation.

Or at least it used to be.

read Kerri’s blogpost about JUSTICE FOR ALL

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Voices Of Clarity [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“A society must assume that it is stable, but the artist must know, and he must let us know, that there is nothing stable under heaven.” ~ James Baldwin (via The Marginalian)

We picked our window of time perfectly. We needed to walk, to get out of the house and breathe yet it had rained much of the morning. Antsy, we took a chance when there was a small break in the weather and headed for the trail.

We walked slowly. We kept an eye on the sky. We watched the next band of storm clouds roll in. It was beautiful. It was ominous. The rain came a few moments after we completed our loop, just as we were getting into the car. We laughed at our good fortune.

Some people take photographs to record events. Kerri, like all artists, takes photographs to feed her spirit. She sees beauty and the photo is way to connect or harmonize with the beauty. It is akin to a hummingbird drinking nectar. I watched her take photos of the coming storm. There was a fierceness in her posture. There was joy in the face of the tumultuous clouds. As I watched I remembered a conversation I had with Brad about the reason artists create. There is a precise moment for the child-artist that a spark lights a soul-fire. In my moment I desperately wanted to see clearly what was happening behind peoples’ eyes; behind my own eyes.

“Tyrants always fear art because tyrants want to mystify while art tends to clarify.”~ Iris Murdoch (via The Marginalia)

Later I looked at her photograph of the rolling storm and thought it a perfect image for our times. The storm is coming. Lydia wrote a comment musing about the surprise rise in prices the maga-faithful (and the rest of us) will experience when the people who pick our crops are deported. I responded darkly that the artists and intellectuals will pick the crops from their place at the corporate farm detention camp. Despots always have to eliminate voices of reason, voices of criticism and opposition. Voices of clarity.

Today, now, more than ever, I want to understand what-on-earth is happening behind peoples’ eyes. As I understand it, this is exactly the time, when chaos and deception rule the day, that artists get-crackin’ to clarify.

Icarus. 30.5″x59.5″, acrylic on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE COMING STORM

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The Necessity of Intolerance [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Life has a way of flipping you on your head. As a former facilitator of DEI workshops I have had innumerable conversations about intolerance and the necessity for standing in “the other’s shoes.” Tolerance is a step on the path to an open mind. Throughout the course of this election I have discovered within myself the necessity of intolerance. The absolute necessity.

There has to be a line. I cannot stand in the shoes of intentional indecency. I cannot afford an ounce of grace to the ugly racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, violent ambitions of maga or its dictator-wanna-be. In a democracy, there is no validity, nothing remotely defensible about their fascist aims. I cannot listen – even for a moment – to the rabid justification of a thought-less-babble-tower built of lies and grievance. It is less than sandy soil. It is a disaster in the making. A foul permission structure of deception and nonsense.

I have found my hard intolerance and I couldn’t be more proud to declare it. At first I feared it made me a hypocrite but lately I know better. There is a place for intolerance and it is this: Intolerance of injustice, intolerance of hatred, intolerance of fear-mongering, intolerance of misogyny… is the vanguard of an open-heart, the guardian of an open-mind.

There has to be a line.

I am learning that within my intolerance of this maga-hatred is the living-seed of common decency and respect of others. My intolerance of whipped-up division constructed by a pathological liar gives bright energy to my belief in truth and goodness. It points the way to the virtues I was taught, to the ethics that are my inheritance.

Our parents and grandparents fought against fascism. My imperfect and messy nation strives to fulfill the ideal that all people are created equal. As the stewards of democracy it is now our imperative – my imperative – to claim my utter intolerance of the authoritarian bilge poisoning our nation.

Every religion, spirituality and belief-system I’ve ever studied (and I’ve studied more than I can count) instructs that I am my brothers’ and sisters’ keeper – as they are also mine, to help others – especially those who are downtrodden. As Kerri says, “If it’s not about kindness then it’s not about anything.”

That seems pretty straight forward and absolutely unequivocal to me. Especially now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TATTERS

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The Most Loving Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

We are still recovering from covid. The progress is slow but certain. We’re finally -after a month – able to walk pieces of our usual trails. Each day we gauge what we can realistically do, we stop often, we turn around or cut short our regular loop when our bodies signal it’s time to stop. “My legs are shaking,” I say as we return to the car. We are not frustrated by our weakness, rather, we are inordinately grateful to be outside, in nature, marveling at the November sky. Especially now. In nature we find sanity in a nation that has lost its mind.

Within our information bubble there is an energetic discussion about self-care. There is encouragement to disconnect from the doom-scrolling and, instead, firmly focus on what brings joy, what invokes love. There is a concurrent ubiquitous conversation about feeling unsafe in a nation that put a rapist in the white house, a convicted felon and avowed fascist who daily promises violence to those who oppose him. Fully half of the nation opposes him so feelings of insecurity are warranted.

The third conversation strand is quieter, a question filled with inordinate sadness. It is the question of whether or not to disconnect from people – family and friends – who knowingly voted for fascism, who support the coming violence. These relationships, personal and familial, no longer feel safe. It’s a matter of trust – of being able to trust someone who either lacks a moral center or who is so enraged that they see themselves mirrored in the despot-elect. It’s impossible to trust people so completely unplugged from reality and so willing to justify thuggery.

It is confusing to love but not to trust. It is bewildering to feel threatened by those you love. It’s a question of vulnerability. It’s a question of honesty, “Do I pretend…” It is made more untenable when taking-a-break or disconnecting is understood as not-loving.

I understand the choice – either way – to be self-loving. We must now protect ourselves.

Also, there is this: a loving parent will not let their child run into the busy street. It is a loving act to shout, “You cannot do this!” It is not without love that we look at our maga-voting family and friends and say, “I cannot pretend that this is election was like all others; I cannot pretend that we are merely having a difference of opinion. We are not. Your vote was for an amoral grotesque who openly promises violence as an authoritarian dictator. Our difference runs much deeper than mere opinion.”

The most loving thing we can do for ourselves is nurture and attend to relationships with those we trust. The most loving thing we can do for our friends and family now hurtling toward the dangerous fascist road is to shout, with voice or with silence, “You cannot do this.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about NOVEMBER SKY

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