As I grow older
I grow colder
but also bolder
not due to insufficiency of too quickly passing time
but just the opposite,
a growing feeling that time invites our multiculturing sufficiency
necessary for suppressing younger monoculturing addictions.
Original Invitations
Rather than Ten Commandments,
beginning with loving YHWH,
iconically accessible and yet mysterious
as ecosystemic Earth,
Native Americans
and perhaps all original people
mutually deploy Original Instructions,
both matriarchal and patriarchal,
intended to become prescriptive
only as the Golden Rule of cooperative learning
grows descriptive for each one listening
for how these creation and self/other management stories
inform our days and nights
as naked immigrants invited on and in this Turtle Island.
These creation instructions, not commandments,
begin with Gaia’s invitation
to do as She loves,
to scatter our best seeds
rooted in healthiest nutritional needs
to follow where and only as long as these grow,
developing seeds of their own to further compost scatter
and to avoid those which ossify
into full-blown egocentric
ethnocentric
anthrocentric addictions,
hoarding out what began as healthy need
and grew to dominate our habits of mind and body
becoming capitalizing wealth through pirating
what began as good times
as good seeds
but turned into transparent addictions
to self-powering over Earth’s nature,
Original Invitations to health as wealth,
and not texts and LeftBrain lists and lexicons
of not all that original commandments
to violently hoard fertile wealth
as if this were healthy self-wealth esteem.
Grace can only be truly heard as sacred invitation.
To listen for love as a command,
whether from self or God or other or Earth
as one whole deep and richly wise ecosystem,
sets up a double-bind
competing cooperation competition
between need and emerging addiction to self-idolatry,
between enslavement and self-serving aristocracy,
perennial addictions to overcoming aching loneliness,
rather than becoming cooperative rest,
listening for Earth’s invitations
into deeper and richer voiceless grace.
Traveling Death Salesman
I can’t sleep.
Or, I can
and did
for three hours
but I continue waking
into a Stephen King nightmare
too real to ignore
because I feel isolated
in this quagmire
of hopeless history.
In this my collective nightmare,
President Trump goes to Saudi Arabia
like Mr. Smith goes to Washington,
bold as an August justice day,
to sell 110 billion dollars of U.S. manufactured ballistics
in this heart of Middle East thirst
for violence–
like selling dope to jonesing crack addicts.
This deal is signed in the blood of our children
then celebrated in full glare of multi media spotlights
with blood dripping off our chins
and hands.
This is a really sweet success
for climate health and freedom fighters
and, oh yes,
our wealthy industrious friends
who rake in their riches
on the strong back
of capitalism’s vaguely cannibalistic WinLose addictions.
This nightmare continues on to Israel
where Jewish leaders wait
until our blood-stained ambassador
of international arm-sales corruption
turns his back
before at last declaring their alarm,
echoed at his next stop
in the Vatican
where even this home of history’s Crusades
finds such dark triumphalism
a bit too treacherously much.
Yet, as often as I awake within this bloodshed bacchanal
blaring with unseemly deep night trumpets
I also wake to total BusinessAsUsual silence
here in this U.S. home.
Here it feels alien accepted
that this is whom we have near bloodlessly become,
crack and frack and oil addicts
selling our preferred markets of death
in exchange for oil
or cash,
our democratically held self-esteem so low
we cannot remember our lowest common denominator
used to be a shared multiculturing Golden Rule.
We have better stuff to sell
for hope of light
not deadly despair.
So here I sit
in the middle of this night’s terrifying domestic silence,
wide awake with guilt
about such dark leadership
we have loosed in a troubling Earth
longing for even just one drop of climate sanity.
110 billion dollars re-invested.
Ours
to grease these well oiled wheels
of military industrializing tycoons
even General President Eisenhower
warned us against.
I guess healing our planet
and our extending brother-sister relationships
will have to wait
until all our guns
and oil,
bombs
and hate,
soldiers
and their innocent children
are gracelessly gone.
I doubt that dawn will ever come again,
yet worry what new macabre celebrations
in vampire cannibalistic capitalism
may appear across our morning screens,
knocking on and out and through our back doors
while our children sleep
in too short innocence.
110 billion for nihilistic death and terror sales
and not one entrepreneurial peep in protest
of sacrilegious prancing.
It is this screaming silence of abject immoral despair
that continues awaking me,
hoping I might see midnight lights
of kindred nightmare souls
haunted by such dark blood business
baldly broadcast as if to help us better sleep.
I toss and turn alone
while other childlike immigrants on Earth
sleep through 110 billion bloody nightmares.
Doubling Boundaries
You had me at Aloha
all through Aloha again,
between banks of outdoor clouds
sailing sigh,
some lighter whiter
faster,
some darkly starkly stable
yet even these passing through
this invite and disinvite Aloha
You greet me as Shalom
through our health as wealth commencement,
fleeing indoor fleecing fleeting noise
for outside peace
flights of radiant fancy
seeing colors inside out
where we belong
in our less seething sheathed Shalom.
Are we only our indoor voices
ending at odds with where resonance begins?
Our outside voices
ending eventually within,
evenly without,
within and between
clouds both bright and dark.
Braiding Dawn with Eve
In “Braiding Sweetgrass”
Robin Wall Kimmerer
favorably contrasts Skywoman’s creation story
with Eve’s less abundant vocation.
In our shared Right hemisphere,
Skywoman “created a garden
for the wellbeing of all.”
While in and out of the more extractive Left hemisphere,
Eve was banished from her forest garden
“and the gates clanged shut behind her.”
To live as fully as possible,
Eve must subdue the wildness
“into which she was cast.”
Meanwhile,
Skywoman remains an active matriarchal agent
of this casting and forecasting
wildness.
This feels fine to me as it is.
Yet I can also recognize Skywoman
as RightBrain Dawn
migrating through these four languaged millennia
to re-emerge this Eve of Earth’s climate pathologies
re-approaching reweaving gates bilaterally opening
with no more need for violent slamming shut
gates designed for polypathic bilateral nudging,
Dawn through Eve,
forward through back again,
surfing Left to Right
nondual co-arising.
In my version
of this Skywoman Dawn meets Eve,
Dawn says to Eve
“Sister, you got the short end of the stick…”
while Eve hears and dreams therapeutic response,
resonant resolutions
to lead with longer and deeper
and wider more inclusive nutritious carrots
this seasoning of Earth’s dualdark bicameral health
re-emerging
revolving
revolutioning
braiding dawn then eve
toward dawn’s DNA again.
Marching Against Military NonSolutions
Militarism,
and its xenophobic Nationalism brother,
are among a polarized USA’s most basic political habits
and economically competitive behaviors.
Violence with and against others
is among the most difficult and sensitive climate pathologies to deal with,
and yet at the heart,
in the heart,
of ecologically polypathic mindbodies,
nondually co-arising
climates of ego- and eco-therapeutic hope
for less violence
and more contentment,
within as without.
The Voice
Ecopolitics of music appreciation and performance
is not about race,
other than sufficiency of syncopating rhythm and pace,
nor only about competing subcultures,
although this comes closer to my soul matter.
Multiculturing music resonance appreciation
is about ecopolitical range of emotion
acutely and precisely and overwhelmingly articulated
sometimes with dancing performance motions
appropriate to deep wise lyrical resolutions.
Rooted in my permacultural music appreciation class
of many multiculturing octaves,
when choosing my richest and deepest performing Voice,
I am inclined toward denser Chris Blues
over simpler Country-Western one-octave ranges,
devoid of EastCoast creolic jazzy gospel shakes and rocks
and rolling moves.
Probably for similar ecopolitical music appreciation reasons,
I would not choose to replay a dissonant Trump card
when seeking both deep and widely healthy WinWin outcomes,
especially when our choice
is for lead ecopolitical health-wealth Voice.
Laundering Her Accounts
New England’s late May sun was long up,
and yet her laundry began to unfold
and clip onto the droopy clothesline,
while yet to warm into 8 AM.
She wore a light spring jacket
and need not think long
about why and how much of water
she consumed each day
each month
each year.
These numbers are written on ledgers of her mind
and asset hanging body.
Food
and heat
and phone service,
electricity
and water
and even some of her compost.
All off-site store
and on-line purchases.
Balancing thoughts nutritional,
sometimes toxic piles of consuming laundry lists
from diverse and fragrant markets.
This was an easy stroll
down double-entry accountability lane
compared to thinking through what she had produced.
Which reminded her to breathe
and about air.
The good air she had breathed all year.
She had no bill for services rendered,
in large part by the trees,
but the ecology and chemistry are complicated.
Still, no bill.
And what about all the bad air she had produced?
No one seemed likely to repay her.
At least not with kindness.
Yet she had also produced some good air,
and so had her daughters and sons.
And she had produced them,
without as much help as she might have preferred
for so much poopy laundry.
Come to think of it,
no one had sent much of anything
for her investments in retaining this planet
with capacity for self-naming Earth,
or any other name either
as far and deep as she could linguistically foretell.
She didn’t bring home a paycheck anymore.
That could have been a measure of her production value.
Yet she was not so sure
which part of all those hours
and years
would end up on the positive regenerative asset side
of self and other investing income
and how much was more degenerative and toxic.
Both trends paid the same in cash,
but not within her warm-washed heart.
This was her accounting problem.
She could measure consumption with her mind and body
but she wanted to balance her production values
and disvalues with her heart,
maybe only because her mind could not wrap around
the positive and negative productive garnering numbers.
What did she produce in healthy amounts?
Too much clean laundry or not enough?
And what else might she over-produce
in toxic overpopulating quantities?
Is this all her kids could be and hope for?
Her contribution to inhumane overpopulation
to further deteriorate Earth’s healthier climates.
What futures would these well-worn clothes cover?
This must not be enough.
So she talked and listened with other women she knew,
including her mother and grandmothers,
but also her daughters,
about how they cooperatively and competitively approached
their double-entry accountability issues.
One grandmother
made a conserving assumption
that all her breath was wasted,
so entered her heart-felt numbers
on Earth’s negative side–
we are intrinsically bad for other nature-spirits.
But also made her balancing assumption,
all her intakes of cash were sufficient in return.
An even exchange,
positive feedback capital
balancing all her bad breath outflow.
Her clothesline
carried only her own clothes.
Her other grandmother
spoke of a rule
her mother taught and listened to tape-measure through each day.
If she had some negative feedback to invest,
it must wait until she had completely played out
any positive feedback
she could honestly express.
In this way she could predict
her positive productions
at least 0-sum balancing
with her negative airs
and positions,
policies and partnerships,
pairs and repairs of pants and socks
and other relationships;
her economic and political productions
across her project lifeline.
She said her goal was to consume
at least as wisely balanced as she produced,
to give at least as well as she had taken.
Her daughter went on-line
to frame a women’s global cooperative.
And then she quantified her negative consumptions
of mind and body
against and with her positive heartbeats and breaths,
to see and hope and hypostatically hypothesize
thermodynamic ecopolitical balance
as 0-sum WinWin
cooperative ego/eco-systemic balance,
slow-growing her matriarchal cooperative laundry ownership
of this women and allies cooperative
transfer and exchange market
for healthier global climates.
She followed her daughter on-line
to co-mentor with her global sisters,
and allies,
how we can add and subtract,
divide and multiply
our cooperative positive mutual dividends
invested for each other
more than WinLose against.
This did not necessarily resolve her ecological balance sheet
but her daughter’s on-line cooperative intention and outcome bank
of entries,
nested by individual within local bioregion,
did resolve and resonate with her accounting
by double-entry
regenerative v degenerative 0-sum balance issue.
Now what was in and on her heart and breath,
was also expanding out through cooperating breasts and chests,
WinWin more than competitive WinLose.
What continued in patriarchal Washington,
and other capital-consuming cities,
hoarding breath ’til smoke-filled blue
denying Earth’s climating pathologies,
faded back somewhat from terrorizing view
because this hoarding vision of contemporary history
was no longer the only cooperative-competitive game in town,
and across Earth’s matriarchally treed forests,
networks,
embryonic organic networks,
regenerative and decomposing lines,
perennial spirals
recycling productive Yang with cooperative consuming yin-fractal DNA
seasonal 0-sum
WinWin reiterative primal relationships,
double-positive-binds,
not just light
but bright,
not just love
but polypathic beloving matriarchal communities
of and for healthy accounting balance sheets,
hung out to dry
on this sunny warm breeze May day.
Sweet Revenge
Greatest revenge
perhaps to become even.
Becoming even
to love what and whom Earth has given
and taken,
will give and take,
until we are each even.
Only wonder and no worries
about which gender you are and are not
or prefer to verge and submerge with and without
or even if you prefer them all
evenly
eventually.
Warmest wise investment
perhaps love within and between such events.
In This Taoist’s View
Could we be doing our best
to invest in Earth’s cooperative health markets?
While you sell our most competitive killing machines
to our Saudi Arabian cousins.
Referencing this touchstone as an ecopolitical WinWin,
unlike Parisian multicultural investments in climate health,
as LoseLose,
remains upside down of any truly love-life frame.
Ballistic sales and buys are tragic ecopolitical failures
as are our hugely nihilistic military markets,
fueled by political-nationalistic fear-mongering,
anti-life and hope
could only cynically be seen and heard
much less smelled and felt
as WinWin success.
Bombs stink.
One hundred and ten billion dollars
for purveyors of future death and destruction
to, and around, Saudi Arabia
seems somewhat against climates of health
as compared to Parisian international agreements
to do our best
to turn from investments in further disinvesting death pathologies
to return toward climates
and ecopolitical landscapes of health’s wealthier
more robust and resonantly multiculturing
WinWin outcomes.
We have no prospects for wins that are truly anthro-economic
that are anti-ecologic.
Wealth blossoms from healthy roots.
It is not smart to try to plant and sell your roses upside down.
In Taoism,
and other zero-centric disciplines
and art-forms,
such as statistical trend analysis
and Permaculture Design
and Game Theory,
every position has its dipolar apposite;
every static implies a dynamic hypostatic,
as Yang implies apposition Yin,
as masculine strength implies feminist-matriarchal nurture,
embryonic wombed conservancy.
If God is love,
then also fear delineates God’s and Earth’s omnipotent boundaries
for therapeutic health.
Some would say love’s opposite is hate,
but here more resonant appositional contrast is ecstasy,
Eastern interdependent consciousness of bliss,
Western polypathy of experiential and logosed trans-paradigmatic wisdom,
as fear can distrust into chronic hate
so love can trust transcendent polyculturing ecstasies.
Climate health
is also about absence of climate pathology
which could lead to multiculural ecstasies,
Martin L. King, Jr’s BeLoved Communities,
resonant harmonies
of zero-sum ecopolitics.
But, we must choose love
for synergetic cooperative economics
rather than fear-mongering WinLose ballistic arms
for racing racism
for gender-commodifying sexism,
for cooperative capital reducing reductive capitalism
for substituting economism for ego/eco-systemic logic;
bring on more Left with Right
for less Left against Right,
bring on YangJustice with YinurturingPeace
Love with delineating Fear of Ego/Eco-Loss
of any regenerative future markets
of all-consumer and for all-producing health
as freedom’s wealth.
Religions, all, choose nature-spirit climates of and for sacred love,
health;
so our choices for political landscapes furthering fear
fade away from military industrialized
brother/sister extended hatreds.
We are better than addiction to sale of armaments.
We have learned already
to invest in multiculturing climates and landscapes
and languages
and cultures of and for love.
If love grows our cooperative capacities,
capital investments,
to optimize health as wealth
through each and every multiculturing WinWin
relational and transactional opportunity,
then it is not only a lie replacing Promise
to believe we can democratically point a loaded rifle
at someone’s product of love
within a smaller nationalistic spirit supporting life,
Death sales are also tragically missed opportunities
to further delineate
our polypathic possibilities of and for,
in and through,
before and after,
sacred ecological love,
our shared democratic multiculturingl Promise.
While there are two sides,
at least,
to every healthy resonating story,
the other side veers off
toward dissonate pathologies,
decay and even threats thereof,
paranoia and rabid ritualistic terrors
bipolar eviscerating history
rather than dipolar co-arising her/his-stories.
Every love story
includes its tensioned appositional,
fear of deadly growth
toward hate’s viral histories
of capital gains for aristocratic few
without ecotherapeutically mutual co-investments
in and for mutual freedom’s regenerative return.
We have our love creation stories
with, and happily above,
our fear-commodifying history
of threats and ecopolitical coercion,
capital love abundance
not yet entirely perverted into arcane reductivist capitalism,
supported by even more military industrializing sales
at most until Earth’s oil
then gas
then ballistics defuse our bullets
while jonesing for more cooperatively-owned love comes rushing in.
A Permaculture Designer
might observe we all agree,
Judeo-Christian American,
and Islamic Saudi Arabian,
our mutually beloved Allah-God is 0-core love,
from which all creations positive bright nurtured co-arise
double-binding all imaginations negative
dualdark bipolarities of competing defined exegetical contrasts
with dipolarities cooperating delineating eisegetical comparisons.
No bright white health nutritional trends
without dark black death decompositions
but calling climate health black
and darkdeath-mongering merely not quite unwhite
does not make alternative facts more true,
as trusting polypathic freedoms
to regeneratively optimize love
as and in and of and for
God and Earth’s future cooperative health.
One hundred and ten billion dollars for ballistics
for disinvesting God and Allah and Earth from each LoveOther.
Piracy of truth and goodness
perfidy of healthy trust
of and for future regenerations.
Self impeaching offenses against God and Earth as Love,
sold as cause for international celebration.
I am decidedly not buying.
Why not sell 110 million trees
at $100 each,
or 110 million solar panels?
Why lead off with our most toxic commodity?
It feels like massive failure of democratically healthy imagination,
and curiosity,
and intent toward wealth of therapeutic outcomes.
Is that really what they inappropriately teach
at Wharton School for Healthy Business?
gdill52 