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For Every Light, A Season

For every state,
property, inside or out,
every unchanging constant,
a hint of hopeful restating,
healthier transitioning, outside and in,
correlation communicating constant change.

For every constant changing (x) variable
a hint of timelessness,
resilient eternity,
dynamic (y) rediscovering.

For every open touch function,
potential for deeper resonant feeling flow.

For every win/lose courageous risk,
potential win/win curious co-opportunity.

For every new sound,
a chance for wider hearing
with new ears.

For every leftbrain either/or thought,
a rightmind emotive hint
toward both/and polyphonic ease
of warmth with light, co-resident.

For every voice of God,
a hint of warm wet Goddess.

For every co-present Gaia,
a hint of constant seasonal change.

For every negative anxiety,
a hinting glint for positive anticipation.

For every secular psychological experience,
potential ecologically sacred relationship,
complexly interdependent.

For every historical process,
potential for multiculturing progress.

For every synergetic procedure,
a chance for integrity’s deep and widening potential.

For every warm-lit eco-balancing life,
a hint of cold-dark ego-supremacy death.

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Inclusive Epiphany

Your euphony
sounds like my epiphany
he explicitly noted.

Your polypathic resilience
feels like my polyphonic resonance
she compassionately warmed and comforted,
nurtured and nutritioned.

Your theologically divine relationships,
progressions through historical multicultural experience
think and feel my ecologically natural communions,
processions through polyculturing anticipations,
s/he silently sang,
imaginatively danced,

Not for future performance,
but from past inclusive participations,
investments,
compassionate regenerations,
dispassionate degenerations,
passionate incinerations,

Euphonic epiphanies.

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WeToo Bucket Lists

My list of domestic chores
vocations
avocations
I no longer wish to know and do
grows longer with each advancing year.

And, because I live with no one
capable and willing to work with me,
side by side,
or even in alternating shifts
and loads
and harvests
and plantings,
it is difficult to grow experientially sure
my motivation has faded entirely,
whether with at least one Other,
or by myself
with only nonhuman fully-abled natures
for song and dance accompaniment.

But, what of my non-domestic bucket list?
That larger stage of ecofeminist transformation,
ecovillage healthy wealth invitation,
sanctuary, green and/or multi-colored celebration
for compassionately resilient
and nutritional communication,
active hope,
sacred trust vocation
for
and of
and within Earth’s warmly integral home
and Great Transitional hearted heart potential.

No bucket I could imagine
would fill all these polypathic double-binding destinations
becoming wealthy here
and trans-regenerationally healthy throughout time
communioned here as now
to my remembering mind

And further fortune future-hunting heart
fulfilling our whole EarthBucket
with passion’s perpetually young
embodied co-investments
transcending past wealth
through immanent
imminent future inclusive health.

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Transformation v Change

Today I heard,
despite considerable dissonance,
a distinction between external change
and internal transformation.

This feels like a difference with some merit,
but reminds me of further nuances
and possibilities for healthy
and pathological transitions,
great and small.

Transformation
seems like a good thing.
A negative internal change
evokes words like
deterioration,
fragmentation,

While “change”
works for me
as positive or negative,
more neutral without context,
direction determined by environmental co-arisings,
or yet to become determined,
evaluated,

And what about the cause-effect
and/or co-arising relationship,
or lack of relationship,
between exterior changing climates
and interior transforming/fragmenting cultures
or climates,
character
and character assassinations?

I remember Gregory Bateson’s fascination
with “acclimation”
which he concluded is, in some ways,
co-acclimation–
more often creolizing
than colonizing.

Which brings me back
to noticing that “climate change”
feels like climate fragmentation
and my growing pre-traumatic stress
does not feel at all like a healthy transformation;
more like debilitation

Further evoking discernment
about how our cultural subclimates of disability,
fracture,
disruption of ego/eco-centric balance,
contribute to toxicity
of exterior climate change.

Perhaps “transition” is a better interior consort
for the exterior neutered face of “change”;
and here we all are,
together and yet too far apart
in this unprecedented time
of Re/De-Generative Change
and billions of individual small
yet Great Transitions.

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Slow-Cooked Conversion Stories

I was raised in one of those white nationalist churches,
passing itself off as a Christian evangelical Bible church,
where “evangelical” meant fundamental
and “fundamental” meant we did not interpret scripture
but accepted it as God’s literal trans-historical Word
of universal white male dominant
Bible thumping supremacy,
transcendently un-changing like…
like…
like nothing I’ve ever seen or heard
or smelled or tasted

Which is why we call not-Him-or-Her “God”
and not “SuperEgo”
or multicultural “Gaia”

Or anything else.
It turns out “God”
is a bit like not saying Valdemore’s name;
As Yahweh
is more about the ambiguously missing vowels
than their YHWH
YYXY
Either/Or-Both/And
bicameral structure.

Anyway, enough about sacred bisensory ecology.
While at People’s Bible Church
I was told, by all the white heterosexual adults
supporting and educating me
that being born again is not a gradual thing,
like growing into a pubescent body,
but instant,
like convenient oatmeal
or inferior mashed potatoes.

If I could not say,
with one hundred percent persuasion,
that I was reborn in Christ
on May 8, 1964
at 2:53 PM
Eastern Savings Time,
Just as I was originally born
on May 8, 1952
at 2:53 A.M.,
much to my mother’s inconvenience–
finished just in time to get home
to our dairy farm
for an unleisurely visit with “The Girls”
during her morning milking parlor gig–
Then the deviant
devilish mark of Satan
still clouds my not so milky white
not straight enough
not truly pure soul.

Such instant and yet resilient grace
felt unlikely to me.

I did not instantly lose hope
for a hot SantaDaddy
sliding down our family chimney
emerging from the family wood-burning furnace,
scorched of unnecessary
and superfluous clothes
to give me all the fruited manly gifts
I have felt so empty without
warm and wet accompaniment,
accomplishment.

Gradually,
over several years of neglecting this Santa myth
as cultural fantasy,
I did not wake up on May 8, 1956,
at 2:53 A.M.
and announce to all those not listening,
“I no longer believe in Santa Claus.”

De-mythification progress
seems to take me
about as long as my left-brain
dominating commodification process
took to grow into queer adolescence,
feeling unsafe,
unwanted,
with a best case possible future
of invisible insignificance,
hidden deeply beneath healthy humility.

Just as it took awhile to comfortably acclimate
to the toothlessness of myth,
It took me all my development years
on into late adolescence
to be sure that I would never safely
or resiliently convert
into a heterosexual.

When we were mutually experimenting grade school boys
during not much sleep overs
I was sure we shared the same destiny–
future heterosexuals,
Mr. Cleavers,
Mr. Smiths
not all too fascinated with Mr. Johnsons.

I didn’t suddenly realize,
“Oops. I failed to convert.”
Maybe I was a late bloomer,
just as some girls get pubes
and teats
and mensies later on
which seemed like more unfair girl pressure
than just sprouting new hair in old moist places
and growing at least somewhat less girlish voices.

Just as there was no May 8, 2:53 P.M.
of any year
when I knew,
“OK, that’s it.
It’s done growing
in both length and width.”
I had no day or night
when I said,
“OK, that’s it.
I choose to be queer”
so I can be the target of hate crimes,
bad jokes,
white Christian heterosexual predators,
bigoted employers,
homophobic police
and teachers
and parents
and siblings,
and preachers

Fully capable of witnessing against me
the exact date, time, and year
they began their life long love affair
with white male Jesus Christ,
straight (presumably) Jewish carpenter’s apprentice,
Son of God and…
and…
God,
who finished creating Earth,
and at least our entire Solar System,
exactly seven days
after He started, on May 8th
at 2:53 A.M.,
year 0000.

I have developed health-considered faith
in win/win progressive processes.
I accept that faith actively hopes in unseen relationships,
unheard communications,
unnoticed actions and reactions.

Still,
I find an always changing
transparent
vulnerable,
courageously curious difference
between left-brain statements of verbal instant faith,
and right/left-brain emerging lifeskill learnings
conversions
healings
redemptively felt economies,
salvific co-relational powers,

And I have trouble believing
that such ubiquitous differences
between slow-grown processive maturation
and imitative instant role-playing
is only accessible to queers,
white, black, brown, red, purple, green, or ultra-violet,
born on May 8, 1952
at 2:53 A.M.
much to the inconvenience
of busy heterosexual
pre-millennial dairy farmers.

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Breathless Change

There seems to be,
at least for me,
an important difference
between wanting to change people
and wanting to heal toxic feelings and beliefs.

When I exhale
into
and on
and under,
side by side
and through
and inside Earth’s climate,
I do not expect to change Earth culture,
but I do hope to heal too passive separation,
lack of co-inviting intimacy.

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Gospel Rewrites

I think, and sometimes fear,
we have two ways, maybe more,
to read the four holy gospels,
and any sacred scripture,
and any regeneration/degeneration story
of creative tension,
win/win sweet spot future aspirations
midst win/lose historic raw spots
of past experience.

We can read Earth’s inspired articulations
as a book of spiritually correct answers,
removed from complex historical-cultural context
in a move toward fundamentally correct creed development
for moral
and political
and economic
and ecological correctness.

And/or
we can listen for Earth’s expirations
and inspirations,
reading and listening to naturally spiritual correcting questions,
embedded in universal historical
and uniting multicultural content
of fundamentally healthy development
for resiliently robust climates
and cultures,
timeless times of spiraling revolutionary win/win
ego/eco-logical balance corrections.

If we too readily approach sacred scripture for morally correct answers,
we are likely to forget
divine purpose seeks better,
more inclusive,
inviting,
transparent,
vulnerable,
courageous and curious health questions.

 

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