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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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Uncategorized

Green Gay Advocate

When I was about twelve
I began to see my future
as a ruthlessly effective
overpoweringly sublime advocate for justice
as global peace outcomed and measured,
As a courtroom drama officer
of the U.S. multicultural Court EcoSystem,
A flaring hot attorney
of the U.S.
and global green
legal testosterone-preferred system.

When I was about sixteen,
I began to question the resilience
of Win/Lose ecological and theological partial-rapture Dreams.
I wanted to belong
in a more resilient WinWin restoration
of local through global peace through ecojustice
and how could I do that
in a Win/Lose punishment egosystem
designed to avoid
or at least ignore
Loser predator and Loser prey’s ultimate EarthTribe outcomes,
pathological death and dying degeneration?

When I was about twenty
I began to see myself
as a great preacher and teacher
of WinWin co-redemptive multicultural
and permaculturally perennial religion
evolving straight through reincarnate cultures
ourselves.

But, how could I become that sainted preacher
of rainbow natural and spiritually timeless integrity
as an uncommitted agnostic,
a mere investigative journalist
rather than an active subject of history’s grand full-voiced stage,
or passive object of Win/Lose greed and lusting culture?

I lack sufficient articulation
within any one integrity path,
one Paradise garden polypathic,
one walk within God’s harmonic matriarchal newborn voices,
speaking creation
through naturally diversifying generations,
Advocating spiritual renewal
restoring WinWin revolutions
across every overt and pervert and divert system
in every sacred land?

When I was about twenty-four
I felt sufficiently redeemed
as a green gay prophet
of sensory revolutionary WinWin experience,
with some Win/Lose rapacious and tragic defeating compromises
with Truth
acidically associated WinWin kinships
with Earth’s diversely sheltering lights
and rhythmic patterns
of 4Dimensioned dynamic habitats
developed through cooperatively systemic relationships.

I lacked sufficient WinWin theory
to prophetically explain
how to cooperatively recapture such profoundly prescient passion
without psychotripic supports,
not physically sustainable–
yet another Win/Lose compromised dead-end.

Then there was my forty years
of vocational wilderness wanderings,
dark night of inside winter
outside desert walks,
inside confusion,
outside complaint
inside dissonance
to tolerate Win/Lose partially recycled monoculturing compromises
inhabiting LeftBrain deductive
Either good
Or bad
dominating dualist dueling AnthroTribe,

Not worshiping
or even listening to
natural/spiritual hybrids,
like lovely lilies in green gay meadow memories,
indigenous DNA enraptured
Right/LeftBrain Win/Win outside/inside
experience of polypathic rapture,
sacred enchantments.

When I was about 64
I began to understand
how miserable I would have been
as a Win/Lose advocate
of U.S. violently punishing elite entitlements
for an anthrocentric legal system
with no orthodox health v pathology insight,
little cooperative ecological hope,
bad mono-elitist inaccessible entitlement toward MisTrust
that once we enter God’s Great Patriarchal CourtRoom
anyone could possibly become integrally healed
for and by and of and with profoundly accessible
Win/Win experiential love
for Ego co-arising therapeutic Eco-justice
inside as outside habitat
of sainted green advocates.

Now I continue
as yet another Win/Win health non-officer
of Earth’s non-patriarchal CourtSystem,
A green gay outdoor student
increasingly without indoor Win/Lose over-invested portfolio.

This green gay preacher
is happy to Green Proclaim

It does not matter,
the Source of
current climate pathology,
health-trend portfolios,
robust v mistrusted health paradigms

Whether act of Western and LeftBrain dominant
over-extraction EitherUsNow-OrThemLater culture,
or religion of overt ego-distraction,
or whether illegal Act of God v. Future Resilient Healthy Creation
This climate pathology
cries through Win/Win ecosystemic hearts
of patriarchs and matriarchs alike,
and all creatures in-between
dipolar tipping points

To remember
To restore, inside and out,
Our sacred RedSky warnings and defenses
and secular open GreenSeas
timeless landed vocational ground
soil
soul to resonate Paradise green ecojustice,
cooperatively owned
and DNA healthy polypathic
wilderness peace within
without
Time our regenerately reverberating
GreenSoul advocating Selves.

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Uncategorized

Jonathon Without David

Yin is my Taoist contemplative
named Jonathon.

He still longs for his King David intimacy
unblemished transparency.

Middle Eastern King,
a yang CEO
who also writes
and plays
and sings, maybe even harps,
ecofeminist anthems,
psalms of sacred gratitude.

Anthems raving organic purity
humane eco-care
filling nurture meetings
greetings
encounters of my most vulnerable
and best public-health transparent
love.

Grace as wealthy beloved days
through Global Climates,
cups running clear healthy water
divinely ecofeminist,
resonantly First Nation,
polypathically Taoist Yang over…

Yin, an ecofeminist monk
dreaming Jonathon.

 

 

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Uncategorized

Ordained Life

I learned the other day that my immune system is gone. She just up and left. No goodbye, no Dear Jerry letter, no flowers, not even an email to let me know; hoping I wouldn’t notice why systemic failure grows more prominent.

My doctor told me about this sly exodus. She is this vibrant buxom Russian immigrant with long wavy auburn hair, and the sturdy solid nature of totalitarian atheistic culture, and the bedside manner of Attila the Hun. Still, she tries her best to break dark news, reaching for anything she might recall to work with human feelings, other than  pain and suffering. Pain she understands, and believes we should all be much more tolerant of our petty, relentless, agonizing Teachers, like not being able to bear weight on my left foot, for example. Her best medical advice was stay off your foot. Teach my kids how to feed and care for each other. Take a nap.

Anyway, she breezes into the examining room where I am sitting, mostly clothed, perched on the edge of the exam table with naked feet anxiously touching the pull-out steel footrest. Waving my not very thick file in her dominant left hand, before the door slams shut behind her, she asks me if I know that I am Positive.

Her radiant smile did not seem to be begging me to tell her I already knew so she was not in the position of actually having to think about how to be kind.

I didn’t know what was the right best answer:

Yes, thank you, and I’ve always found you to be a positive person too?…

No, in fact I hope my husband of the last twenty years will be surprised to hear this as well….

Well, I have been getting sick a lot lately, coming down with weird stuff normal people don’t usually have a problem with, like breaking out in hives in my armpits, so it does cross my mind, now that you so generously mention it, that maybe my immunity guards have departed without giving notice, or even closing the door of vulnerability on their way out….

But, instead, I just say No, quietly, in awe of this strangely-shared boundary moment.

So she hesitantly touches my forearm, and valiantly tries to continue smiling, to reassure me that it will be OK, not a death sentence, her extractive words.

Well, that was good to know, especially because I hadn’t even realized I was waiting for sentencing. I wasn’t even aware of my charges or my trial, my judge, or my apparently merciful jury.

But, I had been feeling vulnerable, and learning I am vulnerable to all the cooties and disease and suffering and pain in this world, on this Earth, within this EarthTribe, leaves me feeling mushy and rotten, old and used up, or at least overripe for decay, inside, then outside.

Vulnerable.

Wide open to whatever comes along, available, accessible, for good and bad.

An open vortex for anyone or anything to use as even my own defenses have evaporated, not like a sunset over the ocean, when that last radiant arcing flash says goodbye until tomorrow. Rather, the loss of immunity, the ache of endlessly inclusive vulnerability, uncovers a quietly creeping dawn, except instead of Earth gradually emerging until I must open glad eyes to discover Her visible presence once again, one more time, this time, her sobbing and singing, dancing, lavishly beautiful Time, my Interior Landscaped self-consciousness gradually purges to uncertain self-identity, and less concern about where you begin and where I end, because my ending is already predicted by lack of self-defense.

A well-fired strength lurks within this deep ecology of grateful emptiness. Creating a winterish listening place for all nutrients and toxins around and within me, a place, a jump in, the water’s warm recreating safe-space where each can be heard, embraced, have a say about our future together. How long we may or may not sustain our interdependent web of life.

Without capacity, perhaps even the desire, to exclude often dissonant nutrients and voices, tastes and smells, feelings and awareness, difficult and insane immigrants, I invest this sacred listening mountain in regenerating new connections, new ways of seeing appositional, dialectical rationality, rather than oppositional polarity.

I learn to long for ways we might survive together that would be in your best interest as my self-interest dissipates into a dark vortex of Yin openness. If our shared values for diversely nutritional compost disappear, then I have no hope to grow my own.

Finding harmony within this apparent dissonance and disease and suffering and insanity is the only vocation left to this EarthTribe Identity, softly individuating within Earth’s resilient resonance, my boundaries of immunity to you removed. All remaining for me is my subsidiarity to Earth’s well-being, for here we all return, generative memory seeds of language and code, capturing voices stringing songs back, back to stardust Elders.

We are Earth’s Tribe dying to remember to fly together like the stars from which we emerged, the Earth which we reincarnate; and trying to not fly apart quite so awfully much.

 

 

 

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