As if the world was not topsy-turvy enough, last evening, just as the sun was setting, I opened the back door and was met with a wall of rising heat. The sun was going down and the temperature was going up!
We are in the land of Lewis Carroll. Logic spins like a wheel of fortune. Alice awoke from her Wonderland dream when she stood up to the Queen of Hearts. She awoke when she’d had enough of chaos and challenged the madness. It was a threshold moment, marking the passage into adulthood. Everything we need to know is in the story.
Do you remember Field of Dreams? “If you build it, he will come.” It’s a story of the power of following a dream no matter how irrational. Lately I’ve thought that our democracy is like the baseball field built in the middle of a cornfield. How irrational is it to imagine and then create a single nation, a field, that attracts and is home to people from all over the world! A nation where a wildly diverse populace governs itself. By the people, for the people, of the people. Build it and they will come.
Redemption is one of the themes of the movie. As is true in life, redemption for the characters comes after reconciling with their past. All of it: the good, the bad, the ugly. Redemption is a door that opens when a person or community – or nation – is brave enough to honestly look at and deal with the full scope of their history. There’s a good reason that Honesty is the first step in the twelve steps of addiction recovery. An honest reckoning opens the door to the pathway that leads to a second chance. It clears the vision, clarifies the dream.
Challenge the madness.
Say, “Enough!”
Get honest.
I took some small comfort when I read these words this morning: “…it’s never too late to reconcile with the past and find peace.” Follow the dream “…even when it seems impossible or irrational.”
It is a warm evening. The breeze has shifted and comes off the lake, blessed cool. The bird alights on the pinnacle of our roof. Like us it pauses in the refreshing breeze. It drinks it in and rests. This image, this moment, is ancient and I am taken by it.
In the midst of the chaos of the country, the seeming unprecedented circumstances we now face, it is somehow comforting (to me) to remember that no one escapes the cycles of mythology. Mythology is a universal growth pattern, cutting across culture, delivered through story. It is a human-life-map. It is unwise to confuse mythology with make-believe.
Our collapse of moral authority in leadership is not unique in history. Neither is the rise of our tyrant. Neither is the corruption of our court Supremes or the silent cowardice of Congress. We follow a historical pattern just as we perform a mythological cycle.
The Roman Empire fell for much the same reasons that the American Experiment is now wobbling: political corruption, the widening gap between the haves and have-nots eroding social cohesion (maga, the impact of inanity like “trickle-down-economics”, unfair taxation, granting “personhood” to corporations…), the exploitation of division, overspending on the military, limits imposed on innovation and education (the impact of DOGE and the decimation of research among other things).
When servant leadership is upended by self-serving-leadership, the path becomes explicit. It doesn’t happen all it once. It is gradual, this erosion of the foundation takes time. This is a mythological death.
Of course, each death signals the birth of something new. As Joseph Campbell wrote of times like these, it is wrongheaded and naive to try and go back in time to capture some imaginary heyday. It is equally misguided to try to force the fulfillment of some imagined ideal. Both facilitate dismemberment.
Our protests of autocracy, our resistance to brutality, plant the seeds of our transfiguration. We will never restore our democratic republic as we’ve known it. Neither will we fulfill it as first conceived: exclusive; democracy for the few. Fire transforms and what will emerge from this hot collapse is anybody’s guess. I will probably not live long enough to see it. Gestation like this takes time, too.
However, I take heart knowing that the cycle will eventually present us with a new generation of servant leaders, people who rise from the wreckage and sacrifice personal gain for the common good. People who were transformed by this current fire. They will carry in their hearts the pain of their ancestors’ regret.
The bird on the pinnacle served as a herald of that distant day. The wind shifts, cutting through the heat, bringing with it sweet relief and the promise of the cycles of change.
The juxtaposition was startling. At the exact moment that we were packed in a raucous dancing and cheering crowd, watching our son Craig, an EDM artist, perform at PRIDE Milwaukee, the dictator wannabe was threatening martial law and sending National Guard troops to Los Angeles to quell what his toadies are trying to call “an insurrection”.
The celebration of individual freedoms meets the crushing of individual freedoms.
A protest is not an insurrection. What we witnessed on January 6, 2020 was an insurrection: a violent uprising against the government. What we are seeing in Los Angeles is a citizen’s right to protest.
The music pulsing, the crowd reveling, I was suddenly overwhelmed. I stopped dancing and watched the people. PRIDE began as a commemoration of resistance: in The Stonewall riots and demonstrations the LGBTQ community “fought back against government sponsored persecution.” 55 years later, I recognized my privilege to stand with a community of people celebrating their individual freedom and triumph over government sponsored persecution.
What’s happening in Los Angeles and across this nation? It is the Republican-led government violently uprising against the fundamental rights of the people. It is – just like January 6th – an insurrection against our democratic institutions and ideals. Make no mistake: the people in LA are coming together to fight back against government persecution, the creation of a police state and authoritarian attack on our democracy.
I can only hope that 55 years from now, some proud father, dancing in a crowd of thousands to his son’s thunderous music in a commemoration-celebration of the people’s triumph over their government-run-amok, will, like me, be overwhelmed when he recognizes the profound meaning of the moment: the exercise of his privilege in a nation that, once, when faced with authoritarianism, vehemently defended individual freedoms, democracy and the right to protest. For a moment he will stand in awe and then, swept back into his son’s vibrant music, will give himself over to the pulse, the heartbeat, the freedom to dance.
I wish – oh, how I wish – we could awaken from this nightmare. Democracy dies by gaslight, by demonization, by unbridled lies, by a Me-Me-Me philosophy. By Republican insanity (inanity?): madness put to ill use. Cowardice two-stepping in a righteous cowboy costume.
Viktor Frankel wrote: “The more one forgets himself – by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love – the more human he is.” Could there be a better definition of sanity?
We are witness to a national nightmare. It is the tug of war of dueling realities. One, madness put to good use, is called Democracy. It is a dream meant to serve “liberty and justice for all”. To uplift. Equally.
The other reality is discriminatory, exploitation of the many for the profit of the few. It is madness put to toxic use. White nationalism in a self-righteous-wrapper. It is in-sanity. Un-hinged. Ab-normal. To abuse others for personal gain. In-humane.
We fly the flag upside down as a signal of distress. I imagined the bumper sticker was placed upside down to reinforce the point. Stay Weird. The current purveyors of authoritarian insanity intend to hammer us into compliance. To silence the voices of opposition (goodness). They attack judges while freeing criminals; they would have us believe that the rule of law is criminal so that the criminal might lawlessly rule. They would have us behave, stay quiet. Look down or bury our heads in the sand. Goosestep.
There has never been a better time – or more necessary time – to stay weird, to put our mad-ness to good use. To speak up. To act out. Surround and protect the judges: the last line of defense against the authoritarian takeover. To bellow to our AWOL Congress: WHERE ARE YOU? And to make sure they feel the impact of their inaction, their abdication of responsibility. Their betrayal of oath.
Our mythos is full of symbols like Paul Revere and The Boston Tea Party: people giving of themselves to serve a greater cause. The love of others. In our dream of democracy, we know exactly how to deal with an out-of-control wanna-be king. We fly the flag upside-down. We put lanterns in church steeples. We toss money-hoarding and unfair taxation into the harbor. There has never been a more important time to stay weird, to focus our madness and put it to good use – for each other.
Our ferns came on like gangbusters. One day they were little seahorses poking their heads from the ground. The next day (it seemed) they were standing tall, mature, a thick rich green forest of fern-fandango.
Fandango is a Spanish dance. It is also a slang term for extravagant behavior. Gangbusters is an idiom that originated from a 1930’s radio crime show and means “with enthusiasm” or “with great energy”.
I loved that she thought to take a photo from the top, a birds-eye view looking down into the dark secret center. It made we want to reach in, to discover the mystery of the fern fandango.
An enigma is always a Siren’s call to the human mind. It’s why we sail to the edge of the world or send rockets to the moon. It’s why we crack the genome or climb to the top of the mountain. It’s why we travel to foreign lands or seek the center of our paradoxical belief.
What is over there, in there, beyond? It is human nature to ask, to ponder, to relentlessly pursue questions. Questioning is the epicenter of science and the arts.
Our curiosity is greater than our fear. Ultimately, it is the reason that I have some small hope for this nation, currently in a frenzy of curiosity-killing, book-banning, history-scrubbing, white-washing, bible-thumping, mind-numbing, heart-clubbing, immigrant-ousting, truth-drowning…A whipped-up, full-on fear fandango meant to blunt all questioners.
People die when fear and panic rule their actions; they become incapable of thinking. People wilt when narrow pat-answers are forced down their throats. Authoritarians are gifted enemy-creators – enemies provide easy answers as long as no questions are permitted. Critical thinking is an authoritarians greatest foe. But, sooner or later, as is always true, the panic-stricken public tires of eating dross and have no recourse but to question the need for so much fearmongering and panic creation. Questions are the antidote to fear, the cure for toxic dictatorship because questions build the road to truth.
Questions are what drive the little seahorse ferns to pop their heads through the crusty soil. Questioners seek the light, they reach for the sun.
People blossom when curiosity calls and they answer. They join forces and mobilize. When disaster strikes, when corruption poisons the body public, people come on like gangbusters, rallying around hot questions like, “Now what?” They join hands and step together into the mystery fandango that holds the promise of leading to a better world – for all.
There are some small cracks of light. Cory Booker’s marathon speech on the floor of the senate, the thousands attending Bernie Sanders and AOC’s rallies. And then recently, a possibility that finally – finally – carried an action-beyond-words, something that could impede this march to authoritarianism:
“The president of North America’s Building Trades Unions, Sean McGarvey, received a standing ovation when he said to a room full of his fellow union workers: “We need to make our voices heard. We’re not red, we’re not blue. We’re the building trades, the backbone of America. You want to build a $5 billion data center? Want more six-figure careers with health care, retirement, and no college debt? You don’t call Elon Musk, you call us!… And yeah, that means all of us. All of us. Including our brother [International Association of Sheet Metal, Air, Rail and Transportation Workers] apprentice Kilmar Abrego Garcia, who we demand to be returned to us and his family now! Bring him home!” ~ Heather Cox Richardson. Letters from an American, April 13, 2025
Kilmar Abrego Garcia, wrongfully deported to prison in El Salvador, is a union brother, a sheet metal apprentice. His brothers and sisters in the union want him home. They want due process respected and restored. For all of us.
“Let’s be very clear about exactly what’s happening here: President Donald J. Trump is claiming the power to ignore the due process of the law guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution, declare someone is a criminal, kidnap them, send them to prison in a third country, and then claim that there is no way to get that person back.” ~ Letters from an American, April 13, 2025
In case it’s not clear, we are experiencing a Constitutional crisis. The administration is ignoring the judicial branch. The elimination of due process is the straw that breaks democracy’s back.
As individuals we have no recourse beyond our vote – and it is currently not clear that we will have another chance to exercise that basic right. We can speak. We can gather and rally but have no leverage with an executive that refuses to acknowledge or adhere to the law. He is supported by a Congress that refuses to perform its duty as check-and-balance to the executive. His hand-picked Attorney General, in the midst of egregious and obvious crimes by this administration, is great at playing hear-no-evil, see-no-evil but is otherwise a useless toady. The Supremes rolled over and died when granting presidential immunity. Is anyone surprised that the executive is ignoring their ruling?
Keep in mind, due process is a basic right – as is voting in a free and fair election. Any administration that suspends due process under the law will need to either corrupt the election system (as is currently happening) or terminate voting altogether – by invoking the Insurrection Act (as is currently being discussed).
In the midst of so much darkness, union president Sean McGarvey opened a small crack of light. Unions leverage power by stopping work. They shut down the machinery of production until power is willing to listen.
I gave myself permission to dream: we could stop this nonsense now if we joined a nationwide union work-stoppage. If we made clear to our government that they should fear us; we should not fear them (as the elimination of due process is meant to achieve). As Sean McGarvey said, “We need to make our voices heard. We’re not red, we’re not blue…”
We are – all of us – the citizens of the United States, the backbone and beating heart of America, a democracy, guaranteed fundamental rights in our Constitution.
We need not be passive during the assault on our basic rights as guaranteed in The Constitution. We do, however, need to recognize that we are neither red nor blue; we all lose equally if Kilmar Abrego Garcia is not brought home. We lose all – if the basic rights guaranteed in the Constitution are not honored and extended equally to all people.
It is way past time for the backbone of America to step off the job and sit for a spell. If Congress and the courts cannot – or will not – do their jobs, perhaps the citizens should follow their lead and stop doing their jobs. Perhaps we should cease productivity – all of us – until the oligarchs and the authoritarian-wanna-be, the hapless Congress and kowtowing Supreme Court recognize that working people are the engine that fuels democracy – and capitalistic democracy is the system that feeds their out-of-proportion prosperity. And, more to the point, remind them that they work for us – all of us – and not the other way around.
I’ve decided that garden messages like “Be Kind” are actually sign posts marking the dividing line in these un-United States. There is – and always has been – a faction of the population that sincerely believes in equality. Kindness extends to everyone. Justice for all. There is – and always has been – a faction of the population that believes in racial superiority. Kindness is extended only to a select few. Justice for some.
The visibility of the dividing line has varied over our history depending on the faction in the power seat. When team equality-for-all is driving, the line fades. When team power-for-the-select-few is driving, the line blazes into visibility. Our short history is a tug-of-war with both sides trying to pull the other team over the line.
We are currently living in a time when the line is readily apparent, team white-male-superiority has the reins. Any mention of diversity is grounds for firing. DEI initiatives are being scrubbed from view. Segregation has been given a green light. Women’s rights are under attack. Tariffs are, of course, market manipulation to enrich the few while shifting of the tax burden onto the poorest citizens. Kindness is exclusively reserved for members of the country club.
It is, I suppose, one of the legacies of colonialism. Manifest Destiny. We are not alone in our tug-of-war but we are unique in wrapping it in ideals like “…with liberty and justice for all.” or “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” We are not alone in editing our full history but we are unique in our capacity to white-wash it as is currently the case. The Lost Cause narrative is alive and well.
This tug-of-war is the question at the heart of the experiment that is The United States of America. Can people of many races, ethnicities and religions, come together and form a society that protects the rights of all, equally, under the law? Can such a society be honest in telling of – and learning from – its full history? Can such a society extend kindness across difference to support a more perfect union? Can we actually strive for and achieve e plurbus unum?
Right now, the prevailing answer as articulated from the seat of power is “no”.
There is a different answer available on the streets.
In any case, it leaves me wondering what must happen for us as a nation to consider fully our history, to admit the truth of our tug-of-war in order to transcend it – so that we might fulfill the promise of our democracy that has the potential to enrich the lives of all the citizens, including citizens of the world.
Perhaps our current ugliness will crack open our denial and reveal the true nature of the discriminatory disease that continually ails us. Perhaps this is a step on the road to all-inclusive-kindness, power attained from giving rather than taking, serving rather than suppressing. In my idealism – and in my garden art – I can only hope so.
After an interminable stretch of frigid days the temperatures finally rose enough to venture out. Grateful, we bundled up and headed to a trail. In the five miles we walked, on a path that is in no way remote, we saw at least 10 deer. At one point two of the herd stepped onto the path and scrutinized us. We stared at them and they stared at us.
It’s been true all my life that when animals cross my path or show up in unusual ways I take note and later research their symbolism. I like the idea that nature is communicating with me. I like the feeling that nature is sending me messages, reinforcement, guidance. Is it a game I play with myself or a core belief? I have arrived at a moment in my life-walk that I no longer need an answer to the question. I simply love the question.
We have an old wooden glider in our living room. Somehow, outdoor furniture made its way inside. We sit on it every afternoon. It’s become the place where we debrief life, where we have deep-diving conversations. Lately on the glider we’ve been unpacking the past five years. Our previous half-decade has been fraught. It has been akin to the interminable polar freeze. Sitting on the glider, wine in hand, we appreciated that the deer symbolize, among other things, new beginnings. “If one deer represents regeneration and rebirth, what might it mean that we saw so many?”
It’s an excellent question to hold in our hearts. It’s a question filled with hope in a time rife with national unrest, fear and contention. We don’t need an answer. For now – and always – it’s enough to love the question, to live into the surprise, to welcome the possibility.
Posted on January 23, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
Tom was concerned with what would become of the ranch after he was gone. His concern was not the land so much as the family legacy. He felt as if he was the last, the keeper of the history. Who might carry the story forward? Who will re-member the steps walked by his ancestors?
I was moved to tears when the Balinese explained to me that, according to their belief, every child born was an ancestor returned. After seven generations, the ancestor comes back wearing the funny new face of the infant descendant. The important point is this: A community makes fundamentally different choices when they understand that the earth they leave behind is the earth that they will also inherit. The ancestor attends to the descendant because the descendant is the ancestor.
Through a translator, the Chinese master-acupuncturist explained to the students that the challenge he perceived in them was that they were rootless. The U.S. culture too easily plows under the sacred to erect a mall. We have very little connection to, understanding of, or respect for the past. He explained that eyes blinded by the shiny-new or obsessed with the algorithm will never access the ancient art of healing a human being. The whole being. With so little concern for what came before there is little awareness or care of the tracks made by marching forward. How is it possible to help balance the health of others when the healer is rootless and unaware of the impact of their actions?
“But what do we do?” It is the ubiquitous question asked by those who reject the malice and indecency that recently swept into power in the USA. The question thrust me back into the single challenge I faced as a DEI consultant: my clients were protected against the very thing that might help them. They wanted a solution – a fix – and saw no value in attending to relationships. The gods of efficiency and effectiveness had no time to waste. Eyes would roll when we suggested that they cease trying to fix problems. They’d panic when we proffered that a to-do list would never create the better culture they envisioned. In fact, it would prevent it. Cultivating “the space between,” paying attention to the quality of the relationships, would bring about the transformation they desired: a culture of mutual support grown from a history of ugly division.
This morning I was struggling to articulate my thought and Kerri stopped my mind-wander with this encapsulation: “What you are trying to say is that It’s not solution-based. It’s process-based.” Yes. Exactly.
“Solution-based” focuses exclusively on what-we-do. It is transactional and, after all, isn’t that the epicenter of what ails us as a nation? If the prevailing philosophy is the-ends-are-worth-the-means, then lying, cheating, grifting, demeaning, debasing, bullying are acceptable behaviors. We are currently witness to the amorality of attainment-of-power-by-any-means. It doesn’t matter who gets hurt or why. No one in power cares about the legacy, the traces left behind. Rootless. Unethical. Out of balance.
“Process-based” is concerned with who-we-are. Together. The opposite of transactional is transformational. Mutual support. Reinforcing connection. Paying attention to the growth of the whole as a means of attending to the growth of the individual. It’s a radically different philosophy in which the ends-are-the-means. Actions matter. Words matter. Choices matter. Roots matter. The legacy, the tracks we leave behind, matters.
And so we ask the question, “But what do we do?” We speak out. We use our voices for good. We begin by looking to the legacy of hope those who came before us left for us to follow. Perhaps we begin by linking arms, focusing on the space between, and continuing a legacy of hope and courage for future generations to follow.
Posted on January 22, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
“Keep something beautiful in your heart to survive difficult times and enjoy good times.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara
Several times over the past few days I’ve read or heard variations on this theme: I will not let him (them) take from me my peace.
Although we recognize the necessity of pushing back against the maga-hatred worming the heart of the nation, we also know it is more potent and powerful to walk toward a better vision. Maga is a black hole and will suck the light out of all that enter its gravitational pull.
Kerri and I are taking John O’Donohue’s advice. We are intentionally and consciously incubating something beautiful in our hearts and minds.
Right now resistance and focusing-on-the-positive seem one and the same.* Perhaps they are. Saul-the-tai-chi-master used to say, “Look beyond the opponent into the field of possibility.” Even though we are reeling by the vote for salivating corruption, even though we are disoriented by the collapse of the government’s moral center, we know that obsessing on the muck and mire will only serve to begrime our spirits and bog down our lives.
To recover balance I daily remind myself of a simple truth: overcoming the obstacle is not the goal. The circumstance-of-the-moment is not the center.
The goal is presence – a woo woo word for a very basic intention: deal with what is actually in front of you rather than wrestle with the fear of an abstraction. To be in “what is” rather than struggle to get through “what should be”. Therein lives the capacity to see all the beauty of the moment. Therein lives the capacity to see and share goodness, to magnify kindness. Choosing to live in the moment is choosing a path of heart. The only requirement is to choose where we place our focus.
It is a necessity in these dark times, more than a survival strategy it is to learn how to thrive.
I delight each time I see the message float by in my stream, “I will not surrender my peace…” Each one a mantra from someone who feels as I do; an ally in sanity. A reinforcement to stand solidly in the clear center and not get pulled into the ugly circumstance. Each one a reinforcement of another truism: peace will not abide a closed fist; it cannot be held; the best way to grow peace is to share it. To give it. To spread it far and wide. Peace always finds an open heart, it flourishes in an open hand.
*(Peace, like love, need not be soft and amorphous. Peace, like love, can be ferocious. As we are told in our mythology, it can move mountains. It is not the absence of conflict, it is what we do in the face of conflict. Peace is the light brought by everyday people in dark, dark times. Peace is the light we shine on corruption, indecency and malice.)
The Direction of Intention 