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Pertinence of Compassion

Impertinence of Zealotry

Impertinence
reminds Roshi Susan Murphy,
refers not only to Trumpian rudeness,
but also irrelevance
to Earth’s Kingdom
at Compassionate Hand.

I was watching “Silence” last night
about zealous colonizing missionaries
learning creolizing compassion
of growing relevant to cultures
languages
indigenous to unwashed aliens
suffering the zealous impertinence
of selfishly empowered elites.

This, in turn,
reminded me of Trumpian impertinence
regarding health and safety defensive care
of a people,
a democratically inclusive nation,
but also,
in this time of growing climate pathologies,
a health-impassioned species

Interdependent with thousands of indigenous alien species,
all breathing air
just as fire ebbs and swells,
all drinking water
just as Earth’s skin absorbs
and impertinently dries out
burns out
plays out
compassion for human zealot impertinence
evaporated
like clean air
and pure and pertinent waters
of Earth’s primal baptism.

Impertinence is deaf and blind
and therefore zealously dumb
in abusive reaction against Earth’s relevant sacred health care voices
and creolizing intentions.

When Trumpians campaign and vote against ObamaCare
of pertinent compassion,
We are not bicamerally remembered,
heard
and felt
and supported
and well represented
by past legislating Democrats and Republicans
and all creolizing in between
who would not deny any creature
an Affordable HealthCare Act
should not be confused
with UnAffordable DeathSupporting Actions.

Including those most likely to suffer first
from lack of pure and pertinent drinking water
for people
and our interdependent plants,
and troubled by smoke and fires
zealously colonizing dried out compassions
for more bicameral creolic pertinence
in recent
better healthcare climates
wealthier past.

Wise and pertinent missionaries,
like all permacultural designers,
like all compassionate facilitators
of and for restoring therapeutic justice,
arrive on Earth’s frontier shores
of new adventures
in growing co-empathic love,

First to listen
and learn
indigenous health and climate care values and disvalues
already implanted
through Sacred MotherEarth’s
Green-Blue Voices

Speaking of what is least likely resonant
to violently and zealously forget
to see
and hear
and think
impertinence of rude Red
climates and internal landscapes

When surrounded still
by Earth’s creolizing Green-Blue chorus
of more quietly passioned living waters
and Restoring Peace Circles
regenerated near warming fires
under cold Advent FullMoon skies
pertinent with gracious light compassions.

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Let’s Talk Honey

Hey, muppet, how you doin?

It’s hard.
All this fear that I’m not doing my best
and that everybody else feels
hell-bent on doing their worst
to thwart my needs as wants right now.

Let’s build a new-old story together,
my lovely honey-bee.
A story of honeyed health and bees
who worship in nutritionally bountiful hives
homes and families midst a cornucopia of tribes
regenerating
recreating
co-gravitating
co-arising purpose in love with ecohoneyed becoming.

Might this story begin with an angry
and fear-filled bee,
feeling alien from her egocentric
and too-crowded
competing and calculating
and sometimes rabidly critical climate
beehive of a not-so-peaceful home-body?

Yes, very good.
I believe this story starts
as Time unfolds humming syntax
sounding and smelling of healthy honey development,
yet also,
another not-so-sweet angry swarming dissonant noise
upon climatic disruption-fear of losing honeyed treasure
when God reaches in to threaten death
and decay to all our busy bees.

Angry Bee hums climatic prophecies
like the boy who called “Wolf!”
but all day and night fearful Angry
chronically stresses her addictive need
for reassurance that death emerges
no more and yet no less dynamic
than embryonic birthing memories of promise
and healthy progress developing rich co-honeyed time.

Angry Bee needs a more cooperative nappy
dreaming elational honey-strings
spinning neutral-acidic bifolding fractal syntax
revolutions of EcoPresent honeyed fairies co-arising Time.

Meanwhile,
Angry Bee’s family and cousins
and Earth
and all Her many Tribes,
slumber cooperative economies
of divinely bicameral-bilateral honey-incubators
growing double-fractal octave-resonant co-buzzing systems,
landscape structures of dynamic eco-paradigms,
co-arising Earth’s consciousness of light/dark Time,
preparing once again
to find tomorrow’s honey together,
less angrifying fear
of both living and dying alone.

In her dream
Angry Bee learns to see
Safe Hands reach back and into Ego buzzing body’s
Anger and Fear Memory,
breathing a copresence pause,
palms up and out rather than struggling
down and in Others’ personal spaces and habitats,
while Kind Honey-Bearing Hands
reach out and forward
rubbing Others’ shoulders
with healthy life as honey-coredemptive love.

Is that how our story ends, muppet?

Well, maybe,
at least on Sesame Street it does.

Can you show me Safe Hands?
Good job.
Now, can we show each other some Kind Hands?

A little higher, please.
Could you do my neck too?
How about my feet,
could you spread some honey on my feet?

All in ripe honeyed BiLateral Time.
Patience is a virtue.

So is more cooperative honey.

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Family Therapy

Multisystemic feminist ecotherapists,
deeply immersed in permacultural eco-logic,
a systematic teleology of cooperative economics,
remain rarely flushed out from their camouflage.

A self-isolating,
often eremetical,
subspecies,
with shamanic nature-as-spirit tendencies,
our most articulate mentors often wander off
to pray for,
breathe and suffer and dance and sing
with Earth and all Her polyculturing species and seasons,
spaces and times,
outside glaring spotlights of media networks
and shallow soundbites.

That said,
perhaps I can share lessons from my children
about internal and external landscapes of justice
and passion,
passion for justice.

Spencer is my cooperative networking
transgenerational
post-millennial polypath.
At 18, he remains with me,
has not yet wandered off into his camouflage,
in part because I am a slow learner
in comparison to his lightning networked intuitive consciousness.

I am a more thorough and systematic teleologist,
but also ponderously detailed,
like Thomas Aquinas and Buckminster Fuller,
unwilling to leave any paradigm untouched,
producing a cooperative ecosystemic thesis
and antithesis of cognitive dissonance,
that remains undecipherable
except to those few who already speak
and hear
and feel
and see,
absorb polypathic nutritional polycultures.

What does justice look like for my 20 year old African American son
who graduated from special support services at Entitled Upper Middle Class High School
with a fourth grade cognitive and affective functionality,
no marketable skills other than his physical strength
which shows decreasing likelihood of endurance
due in part to horrid nutrition
lack of self-care
his preference to self-medicate
away from his internal dissonance.

He prefers THC,
although he is angrily aware this means state and federal employment protection laws
form a moat around his buzz,
with all the opportunities on the outside
and far too many of the long-term risks on the inside of his bleary silo of despair.

Dillen, my loyal handsome young adult son,
recognizes discrimination,
marginalization,
poverty
in comparison to outcomes for self-medicating with alcohol.
It’s a cultural thing that old people do to his Transmillennial Generation,
like declaring wars so they can learn to fight each other,
while elders suck our fat wealth deposits into
sport cars of shifty ludicrosity.

Dillen’s skills do not include multiplication,
much less division,
but he knows when justice divides his population of young adults
looking for their first jobs,
so they don’t have to live under the tyrannical oppression
of their parents.
Self-medicating with alcohol can easily pass a drug screen test
with one day notice from Human Resources,
while Dillen watches from the other side
of this divide.

Can he get through at least eight weeks without medication
that actually does seem to help him feel and think better
of and with himself,
and,
given any doubt that any of this makes any sense,
how long before he stops bothering to apply for any hope of a full life?

Dillen understands the justice and injustice of attending a horribly designed State contracted job training program,
to sit for eight unpaid training hours,
for at least four weeks,
probably six or even more,
in a summer classroom with no windows,
with 29 other ADD and ADHD medicated trainees,
to face the dismissive derision of their trainer
for being who they are,
losers who will never actually be sent through to the paid employment stage of this card-shark process,
violating perhaps every justice principle intended by the Americans with Disabilities Act,
while drawing full Job Coach Trainer pay at my tax dollar expense.

Dillen was not outraged that the State had no record of contractual oversight,
no evidence that anyone who did eventually get paid could not have done so with one week’s unpaid training,
no evidence that there were no other training contractors with the capacity to avoid violating the civil rights of those supposedly receiving a service with positive outcomes,
rather than rejection and dispossession and dismissal and further hopelessness outcomes.
Dillen was not alarmed that the Commissioner,
his own State Senator,
his US Senator,
the ACLU,
did not seem to raise so much as one eyebrow
to a misuse of public dollars and trust
with outcomes that could not even perform at the thinnest level of justice:
If you cannot do any good,
at least be sure you cause no harm.

Dillen has become used to an economic and cultural ecology
that does not include him,
and others who look and act and perform and breathe and beat their hearts,
and try to balance their bicameral hemispheres as best they can
in a “Business-As-Usual-Means-You-Do-Not Matter” environment.

So, Dillen reminds me of what I recognized long ago,
growing up gay male in a homophobic
hetero-dominant
culture.
I am reminded of what it means to have no economic right to employment
and no ecologically supported right to love,
to be valueless human nature
intrinsically mendacious
negatively deviant from all that is universally orthodox goodness,
that justice could not include any marital relationship within a Beloved Community,
could not include acceptance as a healthy soul
or body
or identity,
as the appropriate offspring of socially acceptable justice.

Dillen’s bottom line,
“If they wanted to abuse us,
then I wouldn’t have minded so much
if they were at least going to pay me.
I’ll be The Man’s whore if I have to,
but I won’t be his bitch.”

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