a routine anew
not the evenings,
a sun for soft kisses,
tea and light.
to shine on our words.
to validate the singing birds.
the moon hides so that writers…
you’re the science, i’m the glue setting between the folds of a ventricle-less heart . i don’t understand your logic, you don’t understand my reason, yet we remain neighbors. our sons and daughters playing under the stars in the open fields that were once ours alone.
…How Communities Are Born.
(inspired by the thought that a broken heart bleeds out love, so why be sad.)
I’ve been reading some stuff on balance and connection in relationships. Taking an academic consensus of what a romantic connection is, and what intimacy really means. And I think the best answer is found in the balance between separation and connection. We’re reminded by this, not in academia, but in the human spirit, in the stars that make us perfectly imperfect. You know you’ve emotionally connected with the right person when the two of you have so many differences, yet have the desire to find a way to embrace those differences and make them the foundation of a growing relationship. Through intimacy we bond. It’s the love of honesty, your partner and your self, that keeps it all together.
“Love one another, but make not a bond of love Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous. But let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together; For the pillars of the temple stand apart. And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow. Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love." -Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
It’s cirque de la lune on this election eve. I’ll go ahead and add my two cents to the blogosphere and beyond.
I too get somewhat excited by the notion that our vote for presidential candidate matters. And it does matter, in terms of how we think about our neighbors, our communities, and even ourselves. It’s a time to look at the facts, recollect our thoughts and by election day we should have a slightly adjusted take on our system of values, at the very least. If our presidential vote doesn’t matter, the least we can do is remember to make educated decisions on a daily basis, inspired by this election process. Of course, this is all dependent on what we choose to look at. I, for one, am choosing to not even glance at the facts on the guy born in Detroit, for fear I might turn to stone.
As for our current President, I did some campaigning for him in the swing state of Nevada. Am I voting to re-elect him? No. I’m proudly supporting Green Party candidate Jill Stein, because as a Californian, I can. Perhaps it’s a contradiction, or that I’m slightly conflicted, guilty; all of it. I wouldn’t feel comfortable voting for whom I truly felt could make a difference, without making sure that I did my part in stopping an apocalypse from happening, in a state that could help make it possible. You know how it goes, the lesser of two evils mentality. That’s why I canvassed.
As for Jill Stein, she’s an intelligent, ethical, proactive and environmentally conscious advocate of humanity. Her views resonate with me, as well as with just about everyone I know, though they don’t know it. There are a number of us that believe this country needs radical and fundamental changes, and we’ll continue to support those that have the desire and skill to make that happen…and we’ll support organizations, companies, businesses, laws, propositions, referendums and measures that are humane and that save jobs, our health, and lives. We do this by voting on election day. We’ll vote for those that can’t and we’ll vote for those that have yet to be born.
At the end of the day, nothing changes unless we all change it together, through the simplest of actions that migrate into a liberating infrastructure. It begins with making choices based on shared values that positively effect society. Every day choices. If we do this in conscious solidarity, everything will be okay. I actually believe this….most of the time.
Solidarity does not assume that our struggles are the same struggles, or that our pain is the same pain, or that our hope is for the same future. Solidarity involves commitment, and work, as well as the recognition that even if we do not have the same feelings, or the same lives, or the same bodies, we do live on common ground.” - Sara Ahmed
it’s become a new drowning without water.
looking up seeing only what sits below.
the heart still knows to dream. inhaling autumn,
the sound moon under a still sun.
in breathe, my eyes become yours
seeing only what floats above.
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)
Anna had five electrodes implanted throughout different parts of her brain. Each electrode emitting a particular frequency affecting certain aspects of her being; movement, emotion, reasoning, judgment, her sensory signals, even her appetite.
At seven years old, the random noises in her head and doctor visits were a normal part of her life. This was the usual routine for any person displaying “abnormal” characteristics, in this new world. It made life easier, peaceful and happy; for everyone.
However, At twenty years old Anna realized something that hadn’t yet been discovered by any doctors or scientists. At least not made public. There was something surreal about her memory. Her hippocampus had been virtually unaffected; untouched by the radio frequencies. Not only did she posses a hyperthymistic and ultra-eidetic memory, but she was also experiencing the memory of her parents, friends and neighbors. The memories of her classmates and complete strangers. Experiencing them as her own.
This had been going on for twenty years. Strangely, she has never been able to recollect the time between her birth and her third birthday. As she unravels herself through a series of events, her life becomes hard, sad, and torn. Anna suddenly finds purpose.
Her story begins at three years old. Her life begins at twenty.
(this is a brief introduction, to a short story to be published soon.)
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
The fact is; existence is just varying degrees of sadness. Happiness is the balance played out as small dream states that keep us alive.
So start dreaming.