Rabbit, Rabbit [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

“A man who chases two rabbits, catches neither” ~ Confucius

It’s called a split-intention. Boiled down to the bare bone, a split-intention is what ails the USA. We chase two rabbits.

The first rabbit is a higher ideal called Equality. This rabbit represents a government dedicated to public service and focused on protecting equal rights. It embodies values, like “Liberty and justice for all” and “e pluribus unum” (out of many, one). It understands that strength and unity are forged from difference. It is the rabbit of inclusion.

The second rabbit is inequality. This rabbit is concerned with Privilege. This rabbit represents a government dedicated to private interest by channeling wealth to the few. It champions unbridled gain for select individuals. It embodies beliefs like white supremacy and justice for the top-class. It understands strength as a rigged game of dominance. It is the rabbit of caste and exclusion.

A healthy, successful nation, like a healthy successful human, is clear on the ideals it pursues. It chases a single rabbit. It knows without question what it values. It understands that, with a single focus, it is not only possible but necessary to debate how best to achieve it.

We cannot tout equality and pursue exclusion. We cannot have justice for all while rigging the game to protect the few. We cannot be a thriving democracy and an autocracy.

We cannot fulfill the promise of The Constitution by betraying it. We cannot realize the ideal of our Declaration of Independence – that government derives its power and consent from the governed – by allowing oligarchs to purchase autocracy.

Our split intention has never been so clear. We have two opposing media bubbles weaving two irreconcilable narratives, each defining the other bubble as the enemy. We have two political parties: the blues chase democracy while the reds chase the privilege of the autocrat (please examine the detail in the Republicans Big Gluttonous Bill – in addition to stealing from the poor to give to the rich, our right of redress is on the chopping block).

“A man who chases two rabbits, catches neither.”

Proverbs are proverbs because they reveal a simple yet universal truth. We split ourselves in our political dishonestly. We can either serve the people or we can exploit the people. We have wrestled over this choice since our nation’s inception: Who do we mean when we say, “We the people…”?

How do we reconcile the vast difference between our rhetoric and the rabbit-rabbit-tug-of-war of our history?

One rabbit is worth chasing. The other we ought to chase away before we lose it all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR

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Simply Say, “Enough.” [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

She snapped. I watched it happen, the moment when there was no more room for tolerance, no more space for grace. Had she spoken she simply would have said, “Enough”.

You can’t make up this stuff.

A hot mic on the Access Hollywood bus should have ended it.

Being found liable for sexual assault (rape) by a jury of his peers should have ended it.

Being accused of sexual assault and misconduct by 25 women should have ended it.

His recent repost of repugnant tweets about Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris should end it. But it won’t. As a survivor of sexual abuse she’d had enough. She snapped.

Misogyny in the United States is not only alive and well, it is being celebrated by at least half of the voting population. The man-who-would-be-king has no bottom to his baseness. How is it possible that so many are so willing to follow him into the pigswill? How is it possible that this miscreant* is the person the red hats have chosen to emulate, to support, to uphold as an example for their children, as the standard bearer to lead them into the future?

In a recent interview James Carville warned that this miscreant “under-polls” meaning that the people who support him are ashamed to admit that they support him and his reprehensible views. So they hide their support. They mask their truth. I suppose being so ashamed of your beliefs that you lie to conceal them implies at least some small shred of self-awareness. A gutted morality. Or perhaps it is plain cowardice.

Misogyny: the hatred of, contempt for, or prejudice against women or girls. It is a form of sexism that can keep women at a lower social status than men, thus maintaining the social roles of patriarchy.

Running a campaign on hatred. Contempt. Amplifying prejudice and sexism. In other words, the miscreant and his hate-party are empty of vision and ethics. This paucity of heart and thought leaves them with no recourse but to demean others – as it seems their single goal is to maintain at-all-cost the rusty social roles of a collapsing patriarchy.

Strumming the strings of those who fear equality, whipping up a crowd terrified that they will come up short on an even playing field.

This is what I wanted to tell her when she snapped: drowning men push all others underwater to elevate themselves.

Those who support the miscreant, like the miscreant himself, are drowning. It’s easy to see: working to restrict voters, gerrymandering maps, desperate to change voter laws and procedures so they can tilt the outcome in their favor no matter the result of the election. The miscreant has proclaimed that, once in office, he will “fix things” so we need never vote again. It’s the statement of a sad little man and his party swallowing water, afraid to compete, afraid to say, “This is what we believe.” (see Project 2025 and the lengths they now go to disavow it). It betrays a fundamental disregard – and disdain – for the system they proclaim to protect. If they truly believed in our system of governance, if they truly believed in the values they purport to conserve, they’d not fear an even playing field. They’d defend it. They’d welcome it. They’d arrive at the table with a fierce dedication to protect the right of all citizens to freely vote. They would not tolerate so crude and base a man as their leader.

If his party will not hold him accountable or at least condemn him, if the law -as it seems – is incapable of holding him accountable, then the voters must. We need to end it.

Never mind the impeachments, the felony convictions, the dozens of indictments awaiting trial, the evidence-free claims and incessant whining of an election he lost, the violent attempt to stop the transfer of power…with the once-stiff spine of the republican party now a swampy puddle on the floor, it’s time for this nation to snap and say “Enough.”

His repulsive rhetoric is not locker room talk. His party’s “boys will be boys” excuse needs once-and-for-all to be swept into the dustbin of history with the miscreant and his privileged-hate-speak.

There is no excuse for misogyny. It’s way past time for the old boys to man up and learn to play on an even and equal playing field. American woman are not stupid. And that’s exactly what the old boys are afraid of.

*miscreant (noun): a person who behaves badly or in a way that breaks the law.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MISOGYNY

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Connected As The Cattails [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I read that cattails have been useful to humans for as long as…there have been humans. They are edible. Medicinal. Weave-able into baskets or clothing… The tidbit of information that I found most interesting is, that when harvesting them, it is best to leave the cattails on the perimeter intact. They are different than the cattails in the center. They serve a specific purpose facilitating the interdependent health and well-being of the cattail community. It begs an as-yet unanswerable plant-question: Do they know? How do they know?

“Knowing” implies consciousness. If you want to jump down an interesting rabbit hole, the “debate” surrounding plant consciousness is worthy of your time. There are plenty of studies with plenty of interpretations. Be forewarned: this rabbit hole may challenge the notion that we human-beings are above it all. It may suggest that we are much more interdependent than we believe.

Consciousness: the state of being awake and aware of one’s surroundings.

The consciousness of interdependence. It is what the red hats fear the most. The loss of privilege. Popping the illusion of elite-exclusion. Not being above it all.

We live in a vibrant diverse nation. A nation of immigrants. A place where people from different cultural backgrounds have for centuries mixed together, worked together, fought together, loved together, to grow into a more perfect union. In this nation, the ideal, the intention, is to embrace differences. Not to stratify them. We are above all an intentional crossroads, a meeting place of the many, optimal for the sharing of new ideas borne from divergent perspectives. A celebration of interconnected diversity.

Interdependence. We are as deeply connected as the cattails. Like the cattails, our network of connection may not be readily visible on the surface but our very survival is reliant on each varied other. Thriving is the result of healthy, conscious interdependence.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATTAILS

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Very, Very [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Last night, sitting on the deck enjoying the waning light, I had a great idea for this post. I didn’t write it down so, of course, I have no idea what my great idea was. All morning I have tried to retrace my mental footsteps but alas, they, too, are lost in the mist.

It would be just like me to write about perception. This is a curtain separating the backstage V.I.P. area from the raucous dancing audience. Kerri tried to take a photo through the curtain. Cameras and purple permeable curtains might serve as metaphors for all manner of my blah-blah. Focus placement, assumptions, obstacles, yada-yada! But, none of that well-worn blather was my great idea.

I’m rarely in V.I.P areas since I am rarely a V.I.P. In fact, this particular V.I.P. area was my first and I have to admit I liked it. I didn’t get crushed in the crowd. I wandered freely. There were drinks had I wanted one. And chairs. Security didn’t blink when I walked up and stood at the apron of the stage. I adored watching the dancing furries and acrobats prepare to take the stage. To me, backstage is magic precisely because it’s behind the curtain: the furries take off their furry heads and sip drinks through straws; the acrobats smoke a joint, laugh and talk politics. Now, backstage magic might be a fun post but it wasn’t my great idea.

I did ponder the designation (of course). It wasn’t just an I.P, important person section, it was a very important person section. Wow. Very. More important than important. Since Craig was performing and we are his parents, I suppose we earned the adverb. Kerri did for sure. I didn’t give birth to Craig (thank goodness! I’ve heard stories…). She did so is most certainly a very. I’ve only moved his stuff a few dozen times but was happy to don the extra designation.

That we were fortunate enough – from a place of privilege – to watch our son perform on a BIG stage, and perform well, – also was not my big idea. He wanted us there and made it happen. There’s nothing better on earth than having a son who wants to share his artistry and successes with his parents. The V.I.P. was icing on the cake, an experience everyone should have once in their life.

That was big but it wasn’t my great idea.

I suppose half the fun of losing a great idea is the search-and-rescue effort to find it. I know it’s in there somewhere. As I grid my recent past in search of some great abstract idea, I couldn’t be happier to have found so much actual-beyond-greatness. Heart experiences. New experiences that resurface all the stages and backstages of my past. A son in his bliss. A mother in her bliss. A crowd of adoring people sharing their bliss.

Maybe writing about bliss was my big idea! If it wasn’t, it should have been. People who I love in their bliss. Nothing better. Very. Very, very.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CURTAIN

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Share Through Your Eyes [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

We slept on the living room floor last night. Our chugga-chugga air conditioner doesn’t reach our bedroom at the back of the house. Record breaking heat drove us to improvisation. “We’re camping!” we exclaimed, spreading blankets on the throw-rug, Dogga jumping with enthusiasm into our bed-making-attempts, ruffling our efforts.

In the morning, we could barely move. “My shoulder is killing me!” I whined.

“My hips are burning,” she frowned.

We laughed and together howled, “OUCH!” I creaked to the kitchen to make coffee.

While waiting for the coffee to brew I thought of the underpass. On Saturday we explored a new part of the river trail that ran beneath several busy roads, including the interstate highway. As we left the heat of the sun and entered the cool of the underpass, Kerri asked, “Do you think people sleep under here?”

“Yes, I do.”

Standing at the coffeemaker I was awash with thankfulness. I slept on the floor by choice. Our dog woke us this morning nuzzling our faces. Our ancient air conditioner kept us cool through a brutally hot night. We laughed at our aches and pain.

It’s funny the way thoughts tumble and connect with memory, constellating into well-worn images or plowing new conceptual pathways. Udayana University, Bali. One of my graduate school peers had just completed a presentation on homelessness in the United States. The Udayana faculty was horrified. “But you are the richest country on earth,” a wide-eyed Balinese professor stuttered. “How can you let a member of your community go without a home?” To him, it was the height of shame for a community not to care for their own. It was, in fact, inconceivable. This moment was central to my memory: I saw in his eyes the high esteem he held for us fall into the dark basement. He was suddenly very proud to be Balinese. His community might not have financial resources but they had a form of wealth that made paupers of his American guests.

“It’s the contrast principle”, 20 says. Oppositions illuminate. Cultural differences clarify. What we normalize we cease seeing. I’ve stepped over people sleeping in the street. In Seattle, I routinely rode my bike on paths under a freeway lined with tents and shopping-cart-possessions. In Bali, a man stopped his work in the fields and walked with me because it was rude to let a guest walk alone. We did not speak because we did not share a common language. When I reached my destination, we nodded and shared through our eyes that most universal of gratitudes: genuine appreciation for the companionship of the other; an authentic wish for the well-being of all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE UNDERPASS

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Look Up. Look Higher. [on Merely A Thought Monday]

“And men are so poor in intellect that a few cold chills down their spine will be enough to keep them from ever finding out the truth about anything.” ~ Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain

This will read like a blazing generality and I do not intend it to be so. Some of the best people I have known are readers of the book(s). They learned along the line to read their book(s) as metaphor instead of literally, as a history. There are, after all, many paths up the same mountain.

As for me, I was cured of religion when I was a boy but it’s taken a lifetime to understand what and why – and to find language to express what should (to me) be obvious to all.

It only takes a moment to lift your eyes from the book and look up – all the way up to the sky. The book is a human invention, as are the gods and the stories of the gods told in them. The sky, on the other hand, complete with stars and suns and universes beyond imagining, are not human inventions. The book lives in the human mind. That which the book is meant to illuminate is…wholeness…all around us. We are part of, not separate from. That’s it. It’s that simple. The game of separation and unity.

We are part of, not separate from. This word “Love” is unity, the absence of made-up-separations.

The book will have you believing that your body and its myriad of impulses are, like nature, in need of taming. Separation from yourself. The book will promote the notion of a chosen few, the singular path, a destiny that is manifest. Separation from other. Elevation for team-white. Moral authority for team-straight. It’s probably good to feel above others and certainly feels powerful to believe yourself keeper of the book’s rules. Isn’t it blatantly obvious that the rules were/are made by men to justify, as-the-voice-of-god, all manner of privilege and cruelty? Separation, separation, separation.

Here’s what I understood as a boy: any god that promotes separation in any form is very small, indeed, and probably not worth worshipping. At the very least it is a man-made god meant to make folks feel better about their obvious impermanence in an infinite universe.

There’s so much in this life worthy of our worship.

Whether or not we walk as one or decide to beat the hell out of each other for the color of our skin or the natural orientation of our sexuality has nothing to do with the vast universe outside of the book. We create the separations to justify our fear or to protect our property.

We are completely capable of love. We are completely capable of reaching across the unknown and living our short time on this earth in full support of the rich myriad of wonder and diversity expressed through us in this infinite possibility called life.

The book is an abstraction. The person standing before you is not.

Love is love. Love is not separation or division or privilege or a skin color or gender or sexual orientation. Love has nothing to do with how much money you have or do not have. Separations are the province of small people inventing small gods for very small reasons – so they can feel good about being separate and small.

Love is love.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PRIDE

Surface The Pattern [on DR Thursday]

Steve read my book and said he didn’t really understand the thing about pattern. His comment at first surprised me but then I realized he was actually reinforcing the point: we are unconscious to our patterning. We think in patterns. We see in patterns. Culture is pattern. Pattern is invisible and making it visible is a necessary first step in change processes.

The people who surface pattern are often seen by the mainstream as deviant or rebellious. Women demanding equal pay are attempting to make a pattern visible. The BLM movement is attempting to make a cultural pattern visible. Shining a light on longstanding oppression is never welcome in the halls of power.

The people who work to repress the visibility of cultural pattern, conserve the norms, generally claim a righteous superiority. They are keepers of the culture and feel threatened, even victimized, by the sudden visibility of cultural pattern. Exposure is always a threat to the existing pattern and no one relinquishes power or privilege without a fight. The current raft of voter suppression laws – made possible by the fantasy of a stolen election – is a great example. The Big Lie is a textbook example of how far people in power will go to hide a privilege-norm. It is, for us in these un-united states, not a new phenomenon; it is a longstanding well-guarded pattern.

Change happens when the patterns are surfaced. There will always be a tide that rises to extinguish the light of exposure. In the long run, those hardy voices that were, at first, branded as deviant or dangerous, we come to honor and respect. They refused to be silenced. We claim them as our heroes. MLK. Gandhi. Rosa Parks. Cesar Chavez. Susan B. Anthony. There are so many. It is no easy task to surface the patterns. The path of a light-shiner is dangerous and difficult.

John Lewis gave great advice for those dedicated to surfacing unconscious patterns: “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America.” He also said that, “…transformation will not happen right away. Change takes time.”

Opening eyes to unconscious pattern, to what is obvious yet unseen, is an artist’s path. Seeing beyond what you think you see…seeing beyond your field-of-dedicated-belief, being curious enough to question what you are being told – can you imagine anything more necessary – more vital – in our age of rabid-misinformation and desperate-pattern-suppression?

read Kerri’s blog post about PATTERN

in dreams I wrestle with angels ©️ 2018 david robinson