Since around the age of three, my brother slightly older, an IV had been permanently attached to our arms. The bag didn’t hold saline or any kind of medication to numb the pain of living in a happily-dysfunctional family. What it carried inside shot straight to our brains, engraved itself throughout our DNA, and gently became our adolescent incubators from the inside out. It was the kind of medication that would sing to us at bedtime; those seemingly far-away stories of love, peace and about skies filled with diamonds. I was addicted from early on, to one specific medication. The one that taught me that it’s possible to say F*** OFF to authority, and to talk about being more popular than Jesus, and then to say, “Love is the answer and you know that for sure, love is a flower you got to let it grow.” The same mind can express these extremes, can help fight the system, fight for love, fight for the freedom to express all of that.
For me and so many others alike, John Lennon has not only been an inspiration but also a hero and champion of love, life, courage and expression. Growing up we learn that he wasn’t perfect, and that he was a horrible father and husband, most of the time. There’s no excuse for that. But as a child listening to his music, and watching his films, and reading about the causes he jumped into (even if briefly), we become inspired. Like any powerful art form we grew up with, the John Lennon we all knew through the speakers was the one who kinda helped define us, whether we like it or not…
…and that’s the John Lennon I’d like to say Happy 72nd Birthday to, if he were alive today.
(The sketched portrait above is one that our dad did in 1981, I’ve carried the same copy since)
I’ve been writing like a mad woman lately, on a laptop that also happens to have an internet connection, which means I’ve been researching subjects that I have no business even thinking about.
For Instance, I found out about a small sovereign community of musicians, writers and artists that appealed to me the way most of these communities do, (the way the typical American non-community doesn’t). After finally speaking with a member, I quickly realized that it wasn’t something I could be a part of, for far too many reasons to mention in this quick blog post.
I did some more writing and then some more research. I’m now permanently distracted by my findings.
Walden Five, yes I’m aware that there is no 3 or 4, is the temporary name of our new community. It won’t be so much of a community as we propose it to be a nation of like-minded individuals with similar goals and value systems. A nation with a blueprint echoing most of the principals used by Thoreau, and some by BF Skinner. We? We being the two people I recently met whom, as of right now, live in an eco-village they feel has strayed far from any (non)religious indoctrination detailing any purpose. Something they feel is important to a structure of a community,unlike the society we are accustomed to. Personally, I’m still not certain that indoctrination is something useful for this kind of community, as I see an importance to having ongoing and open discussions on ideas, strategies and rules. It’s important that we respond to individual and community growth, as it happens, and are open minded enough to make any changes. But, I haven’t approached communal living in such a long time, and with many years of life and societal experience behind me, it’s now time to do proper research and walk into this with a clear mind.
And of course, tomorrow I’ll return to writing about my real-life recent experience in visualizing the emotional collective consciousness between myself, several others and nature. I don’t want to get into details but I’ve noticed that while writing about the experience I’ve been able to reach yet another level of consciousness. I’ve always been taught that writers should believe what they write, as they write it. Feel it, and see themselves through it. And i’m now at that point with this particular writing assignment. So I’m thinking, maybe my subconscious has driven me to this random bit of research, to these two mysterious people with whom I am whimsically, but whole-heartedly planning a nation with. And maybe it was my subconscious that sabotaged the relationship I was recently pushed out of, an event that eventually led me to seek the guidance towards finding my emotional, mental and spiritual consiousness. Will I ever really have the answers to these questions? Nope, but life, (and all of it’s tears, laughter, love and loss) is all about asking ‘em. And I’ve never felt more alive.
and sometimes….being filled with clichés is not so bad.
Towards a Nation…
A revolution is bloody. Revolution is hostile. Revolution knows no compromise. Revolution overturns and destroys everything that gets in its way. And you, sitting around here like a knot on the wall, saying, “I’m going to love these folks no matter how much they hate me.” No, you need a revolution. Whoever heard of a revolution where they lock arms, as Reverend Cleage was pointing out beautifully, singing “We Shall Overcome”? Just tell me. You don’t do that in a revolution. You don’t do any singing; you’re too busy swinging. It’s based on land. A revolutionary wants land so he can set up his own nation, an independent nation…” -Malcolm X, Message to the Grass Roots, 1963
If we aspire to look inward and make necessary changes, or at least share with the world our best qualities, perhaps this wouldn’t be so true….
Everything is good as it leaves the hands of the Author of things; everything degenerates in the hands of man.” - Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile, or On Education, 1762