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GoldenRule Dream Circles

I was one of ten invited
to play an ego-enrichment game,
to experience economies of mutual democratic trust
contrasted with Win/Lose politics
of privileged narcissistic lust.

Why?
I reasonably ask,
when each of these ten invited ego-systems
could be home in front of our wood stoves,
slurping our chicken noodle soup
with lightly buttered whole-wheat toast.

Not that I was hungry.
But, board-less monopoly games
are not my polypathically curious preference
for growing healthing trust
v pathological hate and hoarding over-investment crimes
against compassionate nature.

“Universal trust,”
begins our god-like game facilitator,
“is usually only available in the eyes of an infant,
or a buddha,
or some everyday unlimited lover,”
or an unusually healthy and good-humored co-facilitator.

“This game is designed to facilitate unmitigated trust
with each person here”
and each ego not yet here
within our global
polypathic health-system;
This cooperating game intends to practice
a classic Win/Win Golden Rule.”

Our Game Rules
stipulate each EgoPlayer
“will receive four thousand dollars to begin
and may invest some or all
into a central communion pot,
or pass.”

“After everyone has had an opportunity to co-invest,
I will act as banker,
count your collectively invested cash,
double it from our communal treasury,
here at my open right hand,
and evenly re-distribute the now-subsidized communal pot.”
Then, again,
each ego-player may re-invest all
or some
or none
into our eco-systemic Commons.

Experienced WinEgo/WinEcoSystemic Players,
all ten of us re-invested all four-thousand dollars
back into our mutual eco-pot.

Our divinely generous banker, in turn,
gave each of us eight-thousand dollars,
and so on
until our Heavenly Treasury went bust,
while each Ego had $128,000 in highly liquid assets
and yet felt forced to pass
against all further non-remunerated
repetitious uniform and ritualistic play.

Now,
imagine we ten are active Catholics
and the Banker is of a priestly caste
distributing communion wafers,
one each Sunday
to each co-investing player.

And, each EgoPlayer may choose to reinvest part
or all
or none
of this cooperatively co-invested Grace received
from past weekly iterations.

Experienced unitarian WinWin players,
all ten of us religiously follow Golden Communion Ethics,
reinvest all co-passioned Grace received
so ecosystemic Wealth
will multi-laterally tenfold double.

Until Earth’s natural/spiritual Grace bank implodes,
maxed out of re-seasonal nutrition cycles,
yet organically slow-growing emergent deeper resilient
and wider resonant games
in ecosystemic gardens
among properly co-passionate gardener circles,

Networks of Golden EgoPassioned Players
banking on our longest-term resilient nurturing Grace
as climate pace of just-right resonant
reiterating
mutually nourishing rounds of well-seasoned Time.

In which yangish MotherEarth facilitates Grace disbursements
and each YinEgo cooperative Win/Win acclimated player
co-facilitates our ecopolitical game
to climax co-empowerment,
communion pot-restoring enlightenment
rather than wasting any valued communal Grace
on punishing sub-optimizing weaknesses
of narcissistic free-loaders,
sheep straying from our GoldenRule
WinWin GameCircle of co-investing passions.

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Vespers At Dream Cafe

It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,

Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.

I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin’s wisdom street.

I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.

This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.

Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.

I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we’ve come to sacred share.

And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,

And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.

Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.

And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn’s greeting way.

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Death of Dreams

Our children must not die
before their parents
or parental dreams die with them.

And, for those without children,
this is easily empathized
because our dreams must not die
before we do.

Without them
our best selves have already left
whatever misery and boredom remains
for further degenerating absence of purpose.

As our own remaining children
step into young adulthood
wise parents often continue listening
for their dreams.

In this way,
as our own immortal dreams and fantasies fade,
younger dreams become our own extending future.

Here,
in the imperative parental vocation
of restoring therapeutic justice
and peace to dream love’s future,
is where I hear resounding
Millennial Generation Silence

Absence of healthy economic and political dreams
for healing over-heated competing climates
and landscapes.

Restoring inclusive predator and prey recycling justice
and healthy pre-recycling parenting
and dreams of timeless youth
all begin with loving to know Why?

If you have parented a healthy verbal two year old,
you may remember
these challenges of Why
and concomitant insufficiencies of time
to sufficiently reply
Why not?

Why do we dream in language
and icons of mythic sacred relationship?

Why do I dream
of a revolving Fallen Eden
evolving restorative forest-garden relationships,
sacred and secular Paradise Dreams
revisited
revised
rewinding
reweaving Millennial ReGeneration Dreams?

Healthy ecopolitical futures
still Yang with Yin eating from fruit trees
of Sacred Loving Dreams
and Secularized NonDual DarkDeath
we cooperatively own and appositionally manage
root systemically together

ReStorative Yang EdenSpace
with ReDistributive Flowing YinNurture Time–
spiraling bilateral timeless Mythic EcoLogosed Times
of and for PostMillennial Therapeutic Dreams
asking how and when
and cooperating where already
and why not?

A healthy parent
must not lose sacred-secular Dreams
or we all die dreamless forever,
retributing further anger
and fearing frustrating injustice
language and icons of unweaving Earth
fallen eternally to burn
for asking God WhyNot?

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Interpreting Dreams and Political Nightmares

I have always had a fondness for the narrative of dreams.

Why this may be so
I could not speak.

I do recall a former life as a psych major
reading Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams.

Recognizing his iconic topography
yet wondering about his training
in phylogeny,
predicting one’s pre-adolescent healthy ego
and ecological restorations
of our species’ cooperatively maturing habitat
throughout our multicultural
matriarchal-dominant rebirthing story.

I hope to feel
this timeless sacred narrative
of Earth’s reweaving Sabbath,
regenerating Eden’s therapeutic dreams
of polyculturing Paradise.

And,
not quite so many patriarchal pathological nightmares
emerging shared paranoid and claustrophobic punishing vocations
so vulnerably naked without potential integrity,
somehow not yet patriarchally here
with matriarchal now,
co-arising.

I LeftBrain dominate with far too retributive
non-redistributive neglect of justice days
manifesting competitive WinLose assumptions,
haunted by LoseLose nightmares
of a merely secular mortality.
I RightBrain dream
in restoratively manifest destinies toward WinWin
ecopolities of cooperative therapeutic praxis.

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Wind Whispering CoMessiahs

Mentors of the BeeTrees

From NorthWinds
come darkening winter
as newborn discontent
waiting to spring forth.

From SouthWinds
come summer’s diastasis
climax of full-born wisdom
of contentment for and from all four directions
spread across sleeping hearts
of each nighttime regeneration.

From normalizing WestWind toward East colonializing
patriarchal harvest
comes abundant fall in grace
of grace
from grace fulfilled in heartier summer,
for grace processing
through deep long winter winds
of (0)-souls abundantly newborning.

From EastWind springs
nondually co-arise
good news as Easter strawberries
full and blood-red regenesis
well ahead of co-redeeming dreams
for other berries to come after white lillies lead
around green connifers
promising full summer’s heat
by learned lighttime
on this first day
of all gratitude
yet to reborn come
leaders of berries
and birds
and baby bodhisattvas
of all four winds,
each with their season,
reasons
rational Tao gratitudes
and irrational Confusion platitudes
of sacred yet secular ecology.

From NorthWinds
winter water darkens
within discontent
newborn,
dreams dawning
future seasons of gratitude
with summer’s fullblown positive attitude.
———————————————–
As I awake this morning
I remember a song I taught my more oppositionally disposed daughter:

I love you
and you might love me
even if I couldn’t
re-align my four B’s,
brain,
and branches,
and belly,
and butt
these four aligned
good government.

If you do
then I will too.

It was part of a dream
as I awoke this morning
I remembered EarthTribe is no longer the same population
living within that song
as when I went to bed
last night.

A few of us have died.
A few have been new born.

And so it goes each morning
since I was that new born
overwhelmed by all the collective Four-B wisdom
of older dreams
awakening each morning
to discover a few more have joined us,
coming along behind,
and a few more ahead
are now beyond any further potential
for re-alignment leadership
or even long-lived Fractal-B hums of silent listening.

And so I will go that last night
now leading those who listen
for a swelling population of EarthTribe Crystal-B Voices
greeting each new born pioneer
who joins us for this Earth training turning journey,

Vocation for wiser co-aligning Elders
as just normal-aptic naptime for others
just now begun
for whom we join our minds as one
in and with and for and of
peace-filling co-gratitude.

I wonder if our purist unity as EarthTribe
is only RightBrain known and felt in dreams
where reptiles and mammals and amphibeans
like beans and corn and squash
all process more alike than separate,
more interdependently than empty,
without distinctions arising sexism,
without separations co-arising racism,
without asseverational appositions causing self-righteous violence
unless we know these as unruly nightmares
begging to grow more restorative mercy
and thereby less necessity for retributive harsh justice,
patriarchal vengeance is ours!
as EarthTribe slowly shape-shifts repopulation
between each daily-nightly evolving frame
roundly rolling along spacetime’s polypathic avenues
becoming not exactly who we were yesterday,
as there is not sufficient time to quite grasp it all so much
in one timeless time,
just as, in RealTime,
unlike Common DreamTime,
we cannot quite get back
to (0)Sum original habitat
of spacetime’s full-blown diastatic revolution,
still home, disappointed yet again.

But,
maybe tomorrow night
this resonant resolution
may yet come to last
for tomorrow’s recast EarthTribe,
polyprotagonists
yet perpetually interdependent underdogs,
(read: bitches, eco-witches, Sacred EarthMothers, and MotherTrees,
no anonymous underdog identities undemocratically meant to be
unpolitically correctly excluded)
depending on your preferred bulldog or the b-word identity
of protagonizing ecojustice dreams
where Paradise Lost
looks more same than different
throughout today’s reborn
post-creolizing,
millennializing,
degenerating still,
then through this timeless multi-speciating dream,
more double-binding than simplistic (0)Sum LoseLose
degeneration with regeneration
for no one wakes up tomorrow
to re-create gratitude for dawn’s newborn delight
in FourB eco-alignments
more interdependently flying together
than degeneratively coming apart.
———————————————————–
Up from NorthWinds
comes darkening winter water
as newborn discontent
waiting to spring forth.

 

 

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Nightingales and Whippoorwills

An accident of history,
a coincidence,
I wonder,
EurAsia’s Nightingale
sings toward newborn dawns of life
hope
faith,
while New Western Hemisphere’s Eastern Whippoorwill
sends a darker through SouthWestern chill
warning of dualdark’s bodily demise.

These two,
Nightingales with transatlantic Whippoorwills
continue singing through our outdoor dreams
of nights
FullMoon Nightingales of EurAsian love
and NewMoon Whippoorwills
warning of impending loss,
climates of emerging,
co-gravitating pathology,
descent
waving toward Nightingale repressions,
reweaving nocturnal memories
of happyYang Opportunity within sadYin PromisedThreat.

An accident of history,
a coincidence,
this confusion of colonialism’s economic hubris
with anthro-elitism’s Whippoorwills
warning shared political LoseLose demise.

Nightingales heard LeftBrain dominant
echoing NewMoon Whippoorwills sung RightBrain
sacred
ecological
matriarchal concave womb,
nurturing dualdark mythic warnings
flying through troubling climatic dreams,
like distant rolling thunder
coming toward a capitol investment
near Earth’s groundnest,
GoodNews Nightingales
with BadFeeling Climates
revolving bright and dualdark
GrandMother Moon
sung in Whippoorwills.

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NightFlights

From onset of puberty
on through my early twenties
I had frequent flyer dreams.

Like learning to ride a bike,
I was nocturnally certain
just the right balance of body focus and mind flexibility
would lead to inevitable lift-off.

Perhaps it was not a coincidence
that the more daylight time riding my first and last red three-speed bike,
the more likely I was to invest my nightflights
in flying forward and yet flexibly floating free
to soar with stars
float and spin with the moon
looking down and back and out at EarthTribe’s AquaMarine Home,
laced with also flying cumulus fluffs of vaporous white,
as ephemeral as identity myself.

Adolescent hubris,
I know,
to imagine floating flexibly
with just sufficient internal focus, balance, centering
as if a Bodhisattva Flyer
of space as time traveling
forward future
and backward pasts,
outer becomings swelling
with inner flying beings co-gravitating
contracting concentric balance,
dreams of humane-growing flight as inhalation,
internal as external exhalation
mindbody co-operation,
co-optation,
co-present floating flights
of dreamscaped transparent night.

In my dream
we remain free to fly,
free from mind v body polarities,
spirit-nature remains inspiring bodies,
spiral flying full-flight dreams
of economic
and political
and psychological
EarthTribe Revolutions.

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