Uncategorized

Rules of Engagement

For tonight
celebrating 163 birthdays
among the three of me,
my husband,
and oldest son’s May birthdays
within four days of each other

For tonight
unestranged,
and, if we each prefer,
for the remainder of our lives
more together,
less apart

We are here to understand
and express appreciation
for and with each other,
not to fix anyone’s misunderstandings
or positions
or perspective
or ignorance
or sin
against God
or Country
or common sense,
or love for each other,
or all of the above.

That way,
if we get confused
about which of these

White God
Red v Blue country
or common sense

Pillars of economic and political wisdom
we have so shamefully violated,

It doesn’t matter
because we’re not going to try
to understand Othering tonight

And, if you prefer,
for the remainder of our co-invested lives
more together,
less apart.

If you want feedback
about Past or Future You,
please ask
Because, for tonight,
we are here together
to hear how you are feeling now
about appreciating abundant you
as you are

And about appreciating us
as we are

And any memories of our past
we can revisit
with full integrity
appreciating you
as part of us–
your Me
as our interwoven We.

So, if you want feedback
about how and what you are doing
and not doing,
about who you are becoming
or not becoming,
you will have to ask.

If you get feedback
you cannot appreciate,
at least as yet,

Please, let’s help remind each other,
calmly and kindly,
that giving unsolicited feedback,
including how to solve your stupid problems
for you,
violates our rules for tonight
and, if you prefer,
for the remainder of our lives,
more together,
less apart.

These rules apply to you,
about yourself,
and about us,
and include me,
about me,
and about us.

I invite your kind
and calm reminder,
and my own
this night to appreciate
and celebrate who I am
as I am
and who you are
as we are
compassionately co-invested

Without judging ourselves
or Others

Without shaming ourselves
or blaming Others
for what we have failed to understand
and to express co-passionately,

To water our flowers
and rewarm our best days,
and not feed the cold dead weeds
of our worst days
before this our night
more together,
less apart.

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How Many Holidays

How many times have I heard?

The family that prays together
stays together

And, the family that eats together
stays together

I know from personal Holiday
and every day
experience,
neither of these is necessarily true.

However,
I wonder if the family that sings
and/or dances together,
does stay together,
if only in our dreams.

And how many times have I thought,
and sometimes said?

If not broken,
do not fix.

If Holiday celebrations
are not broken,
then no reason to start singing
and/or dancing
now,
avoiding climatic catastrophe
by creating
and recreating
EarthPeace eucatastrophe.

Only fix fractures
when crumbling climates
are painfully obvious losses

Is a profound example
of LeftBrain Business As Triumphantly Usual
bipolar idealism

Either we are depressingly broken already
Or we are not yet sufficiently flawed
in our current competitive consumer mania

Polarized thinking
predicts selfishly predative feelings,
like marching in vicious squares
rather than choosing
to sing in virtuous circles.

Reduced to merely secular
devolutionary devotion,
Or not yet feeling naked loss enough
for a sacred solstice
revolutionary caroling
song and dance
midnight flashmob
massive howl event.

Fracturing doubts
perilously ignore intuitive warnings:
feeling masked alone,
so not extended family exposed,
never threatening to sing a kind line
or dance risky emotional steps
toward resonant healing

LeftBrain doubts
about losing control
of soberly reasonable celebrations
reminds me that most thought
and felt relationships working now
are threatened by unraveling climate decay,
by natural organic lifetime limitations,
by dysfunctional silence,
by mortal fears
and breaking anger disorders,

By denial of sufficient individual survival
through self-perpetuating love
sufficient for fixing Ever After.

Frequent flyer Left lyrics
devoid of Right rhythmic tone,

Secularized monotheism
not yet open toward sacred panentheistic
song and dance systemic communications
co-arising cognitive/affective resonance
feeling verbalizing thoughts:

If not yet unhealthy broke,
zero-sum bankrupt,
in traumatic competitive
shouting consumptive hate
and all-consuming anger
and consumer fear of crisis,
then what?

Perhaps deep listening
for feelings sung
and needs danced out
with those who do appreciate
individual sacred egos
are win/win made
to become half Other warm
ecosystemic environments
of wellness planning
unbroken,
undivided,
reassociating Trust

Reconsidered in here
healing musical space
through eternal now not hurting,
killing,
hurling time

Win/Win bicameral
dipolar co-arising engagement
ego/eco-systemic
resilient unbroken anthro health
is true resonant holiday
and every day wealth,

Earth environmental deep learning
from win/lose brokenness
toward future win/win reweaving
song and dance

LeftEgo/RightEco therapeutically cooperative
mending mindfulness
of integrity’s potential
for resonant healing
individual isolating events
of felt broken climates,

Pre- and/or Post-traumatic stress
inherited from past falling short,
narrow,
shallow everyday present awareness

Intuitively wanting to fix future
traumatic lose/lose awkward
and malforming breaks
and win/lose competitive risks
threatening long-term consumer malfunction,
and win/win synergetic mondbody integrity
of ego songs
and fire circle eco-dances
recycling cooperative
EarthDay and Night
resilient musical consciousness.
and win/lose risks

With winBody/winMind synergetic integrity
of ego dancing
eco cooperative singing
compassionate NewYear consciousness.

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Dad’s Control Issues

Have you seen,
or even felt,
an historical coincidence
between monotheism
and patriarchal theism
and competitive ChosenPeople
monoculturing control issues?

Have you heard
resonant compassioned languages
polyculturing herstoric redevelopment,
ego/polytheistic
nondualistic integral multi-regenerational experience
in-between cooperative ecomatriarchal green theists
and competitive multicultural EarthTribe Circles
thrivalist Ecological Interdependent Spirals
co-empowering multigenerational ReCycles
within co-operative
ego/eco-empowering
Left/Right-Economic Winging
singing bicameral
enlightening secular/sacred bipartisan
co-governance

And Win/Win co-investment
in sublimely divinely competitive
yet playful teams
and tribes
and local community opportunities
to avoid win/lose survivalist
patristic devolutionary risks

By embracing win/win thrivalist
ecofeminist revolutionary opportunities
to polyculturally embrace compassion
when we are at high pandemic
rabid fear and anger frisk.

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A Healthier Patriotism

My own patriotic U.S. extended family,
historically,
and currently
remains StraightWhiteMale privileged
in our collective memories,
if not imaginations,
of spiritual communion
with all the more privileged saints
present,
past,
and future

But, we have also suffered
from rather too much faith in capitalism,
which, like democracy,
is frequently faulted as miserable,
but also lauded as better
than all the socialistic
communistic
devilistic
totalitarian
fascist
foreign
threatening
terrifying
anger-inducing alternatives.

Capitalism of our encultured
multigenerational minds
with left-hemisphere dominant brains
favoring natural secularized competitions
between saints and sinners
of diversely threatening monocultural privilege,
persuasions fundamentally supremacist
for democracy in theory
so long as not in perceived conflict
with self-serving capitalism in daily personal practice,
natural and spiritual,
secular and sacred,
ecological and theological.

We are egocentric
sometimes narcissistic
always bootstrap individualistic
evangelical redemption ecopoliticals
but focused on BadNews
of our need to invest in violent self-defense
against Marxist communism out there
in Hell

Not to be confused with commitment to GoodNews
of sacred divine communion
within our privileged StraightWhiteMale places
of apartheid worship
in awe and wonder
dogmatically committed to our StraightWhiteMale God

Made military-industrialized
in our best capitalistic,
not really quite so democratic paternalistic
image of left-hemisphere
StraightWhiteMale rightfully empowered
historical/cultural dominance.

So, there we have it,
this chaotic bilateral dissonance
between our powers of political democratic enlightenment
through whole open-systemic dialogue,
and our confusion about economic uncooperative self-empowerment
at the necessary (either/or thinking) cost of Other disempowerment,
gone sadly win/lose awry
through endless polarizing debate assumptions

That if someone wins,
then all others playing our eco-political game
must lose,
which sounds very much like
survival of the fittest
rightest
left-brain dominant species
OVER AGAINST
Earth’s whole open system
green/blue
ecological/theological success.

Like our dominant left-hemisphere academic theory
of secularized win/lose evolution
is more anthropocentrically capital-headed
and self-righteously defensively effective
than Earth’s sacred WINblue/WINgreen
ego/eco-politics
of polypathic political dialogue
empowering through GoldenRule democratic resilience,

And right hemisphere
polyphonic economic enlightenment
co-invested through Golden Octave Ratios
in interdependent multicultural dialogue,

Holonic nonzero sum,
polynomially left GroupTheory
and polyvagally bicameral right/left Win/Win GameExperience

My extended global
multicultural family
history and future
with more resonant
healthier cooperative democracy
embedded in Earth’s ecosystemic wealth,

Co-invested across multi-generations
of MotherEarth’s wise-dialogue
win/win eco-political
eco-feminist regenerators

Not of colonizing political
and anthropocentric economic privilege
but of democratically co-invested integrity
in sacred green/blue communion.

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Uncategorized

Winter’s Writing Choices

Approaching winter…

OK, maybe encroaching mid-winter
of life’s seasonal span
with resonantly compelling grace,
perhaps even transparent vulnerability,
feels controversial,
too laissez-faire

Too much courage
in declaring preliminary success
with too little curiosity
about what happens next
on planet Earth

Continuing to revolve all four seasons
dynamics
holistic lenses.

I recall the poet’s admonition
to not go quietly
into this winterish
cold night.

Life’s final reflective opportunity
does not invite quiet
so much as impassioned peace
of a windless snowfall
blanketing all I can see
and more faintly hear,
touch and awkwardly feel,
smell and bittersweetly taste
unsafe passage.

I recently moved from autumn habitat,
a creative tension between summer’s midlife climax
and this new winter habit
above Connecticut’s exquisite Salmon River.

This is a compromised writer’s winter hermitage
shared with my son who cannot speak
but can roar,
who cannot walk by himself
but can scoot
and belly laugh at his own internal sensations
and my external sensational sounds.

And, following Daquan
from my fall habitat
to winter’s eremetical search for peace,
however coldly displaced,
with social
and political
and spiritual
and natural distancing,

Behind Daquan
are daily in-home nurses
and his most avid companion,
my romantically distanced husband.

He comes bearing gifts
of clothes,
cleaning supplies,
far too much meaty food
for a proper hermitage
and not enough
for sufficient redemption
and for self-forgiveness.

He comes unaware of my ecofeminist wintering spirit,
longing for Earth’s warm womb justice
restoring peace
resilient through all four seasons
of present
past
and future Earth lives.

My ecofeminist lineage
feels too white to him,
not a journey for him
and our two brown sons
and my brown and cerebral palsied daughter
and Daquan.

So, this writer’s winter hermitage
remains newly compromised by past fall
and summer
and even spring
of extended multicultural family life.

May it always be so
or no,
I’m not sure which to pray for
or against
as I quietly write
into this warm and peaceful night,
just right,
not too dim or bright.

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Stretching Health Care

My oldest friend,
and older, too,
has a daily yoga practice
of self-care,
which I would healthier emulate.

But, when I mentioned this
as rich in comparison
with my own brief leg stretches
while tube-feeding my son,
and occasional too brief dancing
and jumping
with my cerebral palsied daughter,

He responds
to my neglect of self care
with self-deprecating acclaim
for my daily investment
in young adult bodies
inhabiting wounded child concerns.

I recognize this response
in literature of sacred messiahs
and family health care martyrs
and extended family matriarchs
and secular ecofeminist mentors
of selflessness,
ego annihilation,
empty nesters,
nonself-investors.

While all such roleplays,
diurnal through eternal,
are counter-cultural,
with redemptive value
and stretching of compassion,

I question their/our capacity for resilience
as even the most cooperative
win/win co-invested economist
would question total eco-investment
through absolute ego-divestment,
outgoing care for health
while bleeding out all internal wealth
of energy
power
light.

Yoga stretches internal minds
to resonantly balance
external bodies
fully re-creating
co-acclimating
resonant resilience.

This stretching,
toning
touching
feeling
balancing
centering
communicating
cooperative empowering
compassionate enlightening
I could do with my son
and my daughter
daily,
and perhaps timelessly,
with sufficient commitment
and imagination,
creativity
and regenerative health
intent to optimize
our shared systemic wealth

Stretching from where we are
toward when we will become
together in shared passion.

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Family Memory Daze

My family
remembered now
and in our projected
integral future,
in this eco-political body
of spirited
natural Earth,

Birthing
and dying,
regenerating
and degenerating,
easing
and diseasing,
healthy
and pathological,
good humored
and bad hearted,

Unconsciously contemplating,
co-template-recreating
cooperative memorable days
and deep matriotic nights.

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Commanding Solo Performances

It had been a hellish week.

On Monday
my lonely and tired AfricanAmerican husband
told me, as gently as possible,
that what I had hoped was a temporary separation
is to be extended into perpetuity.

This separation had been scheduled to terminate
when my Fetal Alcohol daughter turns eighteen
and can move into a new, more therapeutically endowed, home
not our non-group home
which could not feel like a private home to him
and to a more peacefully vulnerable me.

He told me his autonomy of residential sight
and sound
and smell,
temperature and feel,
thought and absence of forced transparent thought,
has grown ever more compelling for him,

Like a new life system
organically emerging from calcified minerals
mixed with melted wet.

This permanent separation,
less about not wanting to share a roof and walls
and multicultural floors
and more about wanting a more private
monotheistic habitat.

I had been working on my adopted daughter’s emergency group home application;
Her eighteenth, and first qualifying, birthday was Friday
of this same hellish week
filled with demands,
as usual,
but more so,
more self-prophetically entitled now;

A “big [supremely self-disempowering] girl”
as multiply messaged from school
and therapists
and family,
jonesing to live with submissive peers
who will best be lesser care receivers
as she intends to appropriate all care giving staff,

Demanding preferred foods,
and music
and stories
and dance,
and diaper change
and bed
and bath times
ignoring needs of lesser beings;

Like living with a constantly ticked off Gaia
showing us who’s our jealous Boss
in response to our climate endangering ways
of patriarchal colonization
disrespecting matriarchal communion,
ecological creolization.

Demanding routines she and I have evolved
since she was five,
unable to see up,
only downstream,
unable to hear well,
unable to speak in consonants
articulate enough to defy caregiver ignorance,
lack of subservient cooperation,
submission to her aggressively iron will,
triggering every slaveholder
property owner
reactionary nerve in my husband’s long-term
matriarchal-limned
unnerved memory.

Our more cooperative and trust-building relationship
soon took care of Gaia’s communication problems
but we created, thereby,
a princess entitled ‘I win so you lose’ monster
of immediate and really loud
NEED!

Yet, now that she is maturing to leave this nest,
how much do I need her
to keep me safely home at night
and off the larger terrifying climate stage
of degenerating ecopolitical performance?

On the following Sunday morning,
I was to sing “Let Your Little Light Shine”
a less popular spiritual,
and at least not unnatural,
gospel message;

A sung prayer from enslaved history,
humiliating origins surviving valleys of vulnerable despair
by holding up
and out
dim fading lights of hope,
sometimes accessible from other enslaved properties
with more resilient hope in green and brown and black
communion.

On Saturday night
my heart spoke of grief
lost in deep dark valleys
isolated
abandoned
down-sized
empty-nested
shallow-chested
ancient old person despair,

And my lungs sagged
pushing against narrow edges of freezing panic

Terror about forgetting left-brain words
and reminders of past sung and danced solo performances
not nearly as fun
enriching
fulfilling
health wealthy
as past group participation
in full-nested harmony
synergy
resonance
regenerativity
sacred communions spiritual
while naturally co-present

Green
and brown
and black,
ultra-nonviolet
and transparently clear.

On Sunday morning,
after earning a strategically planned
full night’s rest,
I felt much worse

Unable to imagine leaving my sanctuary
much less singing
much less performing
a song longing for the Lord
to shine even the faintest ray of hope
down into this valley of well-earned despair,

A grey climate of hopelessness,
nihilistic thoughts,
narcissistic preoccupations
trapped in a shrinking fragile egocentrism.

I took an anti-depressant
which got me to the church on time
but now feeling anxiously disembodied
within my own Beloved Sanctuary
too universally white
straight
and too removed from outside green
and family brown
and EarthTribe Native black resonant voices,
fragrances,
touch,
tasting and seeing.

I could not remember words,
or think of alternative reasonable sounds,
could not find my opening pitch,
felt deserted by a cappella
absence of accompaniment,
by a choir relegated to background support services
rather than foreground cooperative resonance
of care giving
co-passioning care receiving.

But, there was something else
bad,
REALLY bad,
a repugnance that stayed with me
through rehearsal,
through first
and then final performance
and on through the return home
after a technical tepid success
lacking the resonance of producing music
transcending rhythm and pitch and lyrics
demanding better held and managed light systems
for my self-isolating despair

Afraid of drowning
in this internal river valley.

Although not sure what happened Sunday night,
I awoke next morning to emotional fragility,
again
to fears of too much aloneness, loneliness,
worries about ageing in a place not quiet enough
from road rage
and too demanding of soil
and water
and energy stewardship,
warm accompaniment,
propriety of grace,
cooperative well-being.

What was different, on this reawakening,
was recognizing my,
and our,
monocultural misappropriation,
supremacist ideation
of “Let your little light shine”
as if we are, and I am,
the Lord’s great solo hope
for all the autonomous
disconnected
apartheid
indigenous nature/spirit
EarthTribe life-systems
of healthy care giving/receiving
singing and dancing in revolving circles
of gospel fire,

Choired resonantly together
in active shared home harmonies,
extending families back through enslaved ancestors
reminding an AfroCentric Lord
this light begins
from hope sung dance together
with multiculturally resonant intelligence

Leaving no one behind
trying to soulfully enlighten
my darkest valley of despair.

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League of EcoFeminist Rainbow Conservation Voters

There is this thought,
in Leagues of Voters,
continually arising
from East to West
and South to North
and Left to Right,

That we need to make win/win nice
with our mammalian cousins
on land and sea
or only mean old reptiles
and hungry predative birds and insects
will remain
to design Earth’s future cultures
and regenerations.

Others feel this prejudice
for wombs over eggs
and nuts
and seeds
is merely ignorant elitism,
as if humanimals
are not capable of reacting
like rattlesnakes
and scorpions
wherever and whenever our environmental climate
fails to comfort
and entertain us.

Womb supremacists
and egg empiricists
and seed originalists
all agree,
regardless of ZeroZone resourceful structure,
win/win cooperative economies
are healthier than win/lose ego-empowering constitutions,
whether capital declared
or politically implied
by organizing skills fostering more wars and competition
more than love and cooperative education.

This reminds me of a Japanese saying,
There is luck in the last portion.

Whether good luck or bad,
well-wombed or bad-seeded,
this saying leaves to us
to predict and actively hope for
or against.

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Mother’s Mother

My mother’s mother and I were very close.
We needed each other
in diversely validating ways.

She needed to know
experience
hear and see and feel and touch
a healthier love of mutual regard
than she felt she achieved
with any of her three daughters.

I needed to feel
I was some loved adult’s most significant event,
most vulnerable and transparent grace
for who I felt and knew I was
yet to gay become
without any need to change
what I could not internally rearrange.

When I was a senior in high school
this grandmother became sick with cancer
and depression,
mortal doubts and fear.

I knew this
not because I had visited her
but because my parents
and aunts
whispered their hopelessness
before repeatedly reminding me,
There is nothing I can do
to help her
or prepare myself
for such great loss,
perhaps less great,
more relief,
for them.

But they were wrong.
Wrong about my grandmother.
Wrong about me.
Wrong about us, together.

I knew her favorite hymns.
I was her favorite voice.
We needed no other instruments,
percussive or lyrical.
We had enough time
to revisit our music lessons,
Lyrics are tools for young friendship
Not weapons against old enemies.

Precious Lord
take my hand,
Lead me on
when I can’t stand.
I am tired,
I am weak,
I am worn.
Through these trials,
Through this storm,
Lead me on
Precious Lord.

And so we sang
and so I danced
and told her favorite story
of beds too hard,
of friends too soft,
and a child who sings just might

Of Earth too hot
and river beds too soft
and motherlands too cold
and us, now growing distant,
yet singing this last time
just right.

 

 

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