Tag Archives: memory

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Summer Plot Development

In grade school
many of us learned about plot development
as variations on a WinLose theme–
Person v Self,
Person v Other,
Person v God/Universe/Earth/History/Evolution–

But
probably nothing about cooperative garden plot development.

Literature is replete
with manly patriarchal ubiquitous competition themes
required to hold consumer marketing interest,
and usually the writer’s own self-therapeutic
or pathologically toxic fascination interests
as well.

Yet these WinLose themes
are difficult to find in day to day organic history,
because not the primary framework
in WinWin polycultural plot development.

Western patriarchal literature flirts with
Every Wounded White Man
lived happily ever WinWin after
despite a WinLose opportunistic
and self-hypnotizing Rapture
not quite fully humane
divine White capitalistic competing Historical World.

For some LoseLose avoidance reason
WinWin polyculturing outcomes came to mind
when I outlined
my morning and evening cooperative gardening plan
for friends and extending family.

1. I recall all the 101 recent weedy moments
when I reflected,
inflicted,
deflected grief
and loss
and shame
and blame
and WinLose repression
suppression
oppression, etc.
On my Person v Self
and my EgoPerson v EcoOther
and my Person v OpenEarth Organic WinWin Systems,
and my Yang Autonomous Person v Yin-Matriarchal
CreatorGaia
EarthMotherLand
and WombingSeas
and Warm through Colder Seasons
of my business as competing usual day.

2. I do my best to think of one or two
or even three
cooperative just-right moments in between all the WinLose weeds above,
when I and We recreated WinWin,
as I fed and watered no Loser victims,
including myself.

3. I declare and explore
partial not notWinning success.

4. I celebrate my potential sacred opportunities
for more
and stronger
and healthier flowing
WinWin tomorrows
as a secular PositivEnergy Person
within a confluent EgoSelf,
as a sacred vocational identity
with a future for
and a past of
WinWin resilient EarthTribe Others,
as a HealthingEgo
within Sacred WinWin ecological His/Her-CreationStory.

5. AND,
I spring and summer evening ignore LeftBrain
transposition tensions,
analogical words for RightBrain potential ecological integrity
AND WonderWander my LeftBrain Ego
and Awe Zero-sum my RightBrain CoPresent
sacred ecological extended family
SacredOther recreating re-memories

Reweaving my best WinWins
getting down,
even sexy
organic garden stalking
and eating time
nutritionally co-invested.

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BirdSong Memorial

What is your earliest memory
of sacred birdsong voices?

How is this memory
the same and different than
your internal intimate Sacred EarthMother’s Song?

Of sacred gospel and secular gossip
differentiating WinWin GoodNews
from WinLose we could go either way
more discerning and hesitant strains,
and LoseLose siren screeches,
slaps,
rapes,
domestic tensions,
secular depressions
diminishing keys of synaptic revolutionary anthems
against all WinWin possible sacred resolutions.

Gospel prayers to restore well-sung justice
over LeftBrain Yang v. Yin
punishing suppression
polyphonic of sustained successful YangEgo Voices
without YinCoOperative EcoHarmonic
healthy-wealth birdsong harmonic memories

External WinWin dissonantly seeded voices
of internal LoseLose spirits matriarchal–
YangLeft cawing and nest-stealing
against inside Yin SacredVoices for Integrity
internally harmonic

Ego YangBird pathological
through ecotherapeutic nested health-wealth climates
notnot pathological within
as yin-squared light
without within

Without raising your hand
to ask
if I can ask
your family and neighbors
an unraised hand question
about my birdsong memories.

Especially when RightBrain repressed
and matriotically suppressed
love of green sacred patriotic ecology,
and depressed LeftBrain toxic WinLose,
Either Right divine light
or LeftistWrong adolescent
WinLose speaking and listening
only in inside self-nuclear family
WinLose EitherOr fundamentalistic voices,
not recalling outside WinWin sacred birdsong
boundary experiences
or even dramatically unable to insert comparisons
within birdsong restorative remini-senses.

Now and then,
or even each religious morning and each enculturing evening,
we might healthier cooperative remember
integrating gospel songs with outdoor birdflight WinWin anthems
best sung by strange birds
in the loser back cages
of our ecoschool classrooms,
still bicamerally trying to fit WinWin birdsong in
as anti-LoseLose
ego/eco restoring polyphonic justice

Singing inside grace
green-gospel integrity
of sacred matriarchal birdsong wombs
in and outside school-based cages.

Remembering our WinWin past flight freedoms
reweaving our WinLose co-present
not really deep learning predicament
resiliently absorbing our LoseLose pathological futures
without remembering to water
our WinWin DNA with RNA past forest flight memories,
sacred paradise
born of reforesting MotherTree
Root WinEgo/WinEco natureYang with spiritYin
WinWin
restoration of birdsong’s healing justice

Ego co-arising
eco co-gravitating,
breathing in left-silent birdsong
and out birdflight right again.

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Hyperactive Couples Counseling

My early 20s Eldest Black Lives Matter Son
wears his disabling ADHD label uncomfortably,
impatiently,
like a possibly self-redeeming crown
but with unfortunate MessiahComplex thorns
as the Great WhiteMan’s sacrificial lamb.

His First, and hopefully last, Girl
is an ADHD Latina,
with sparkling bipolar tendencies
for access to dipolar transparencies,
detaching irony of anger’s foolishness,
re-connecting LeftBrain’s rapid fire language choices
voicing Mute Elder RightBrain’s
wise matriarchal slow-grown intent,
EarthMothers of PostMillennialism Unite!

Let this EgoEco-PatriarchalMatriarchal Cooperative Revolution
begin with me!

Neither my Eldest
nor his First Girl
live
or speak
or always smell,
much less feel
or taste
deeply within sacred ElderWisdom ecological streams
of consciousness.

I suppose this is because
they lack mature WinWin curiosity,
nor retain much dwindling hope,
about how to co-arise
ego-nurturing investments and divestments
rebuilding Earth’s ecological ParadiseLost.

Their bedtime stories
lacked egologic of best-invested interests and dreams
embedded in eco-mythos of RightBrain sacred nutrition
feeding on timeless wealthy EarthMother love,
shared wonder,
bilateral ego-eco consciousness.

Love,
including, of course,
this ADHD dipolar active ride
within divine slow-gracing AnimaMundi
bodies with minds,
external skins and sensory experiences
with internal feelings and memories
and storage
and reweaving
and unraveling functions
and dysfunctions.

Loving body natures and mind spirits,
conjoining cooperatives
between healthy mindbodies and wealthy spacetimes
bilaterally co-investing
in future WinWin health
through avoiding past overYanged pathologies.

Each timeless, yet hyperactive, NOW relationship,
seeking Sacred Ecological balance,
equivalency,
symmetry.

Secular EgoYang
conscious-deficited self with other hyperactive
GoldenRule co-optimizers,
investing in ever deeper sacred WinWin Games,
ecological cooperative co-investors
in healthing wealthy restorative purposes
with deep sacred meanings,
sacred wonder as One Ancient EarthTribe.

Deficits in non-violent behaviors
rooted in non-violent communications,
rooted in non-violent sacred integrity of EarthSoul,
HolySpirit Consciousness
rooted in non-violent language and icons
and scripted regenerative harmonies,
rooted in non-violent SacredElder Ecological Behavioral Choices,
nutritional root system mentored
more than taught,
much more than punishingly preached against,
listening for Elder RightBrain
more than over-investing in LeftBrain talk
that does not yet hope to walk.

A deeply sacred ecological problem
for would-be hyperactive lovers,
co-diastatic nurturers,
is looking to an isolated supremacist LeftBrain
to articulate a mature rational response
to Who Are You?
while it is Elder RightBrain
integrating memories
with feelings
of Why Are We?

Why are we healthy democratic
more than pathological plutocratic?

Why are we Yang LeftBrain dominant
when we love Left-Right spiraling fractal-octaves
of multicoloring cultural resonance more gracefully?

Why are we Left-Right WinWin united
double-bound in attachment to cooperative confluence
without requiring uniformity,
so much more free,
conservationally liberated,
fundamentally radical hyperactive creolizing revolutionaries?

Why are hyperactive revolutionaries of love
without cognitive-affective anti-ecological
secularizing
and colonizing
and buying and selling Business As WinLose Usual,
lock-step marching toward pathological climates
of growing dissonance
dismay
depression
suppression?

It seems therapeutic,
in a more restorative healing sort of way,
rather than a retributive terrorizing anti-trust display
between LeftYang hyperactively loving RightYin
kind of slow-blues sway,
swagging reiterating voices back and forth
across generations of time past and future,

Like a front porch squeaking swing
under a slow-growing Starlit Night
of sacred awesome wonder
where we have come from
twinkling back toward us
and where we are heading
in this next millennium of Paradise Found
swinging forward
written in DNA-RNA scriptures,
ego-eco flowing
through nutritional veins and arteries,
back and forth,
in and out,
away from
and toward reweaving bicamerally fueled surfing
educational echoes
of stardust ecstasies.

Swaying through EgoEcoLogical hyperactive restorations
in urgent, yet silent, search
for FullMoon Mythic Dreams

Creation Stories
without anti-ecological RightBrain revolting nightmares
silently shrieking
shrinking
yet still diastatic-seeking AnimaMundi,
HolySpirit,
EarthSoul
Gaian Matriarchal Cooperatives.

Breathers in and out
of Holy Cooperative Spirit
without fear of dualdark monochromatic chaos.

Sacred ecological ReStoration Story Tellers
begin with extended-family cooperative dawn of Earth,
graced by Sun,
multiculturally RightBrain worshiping Holonic Regenerative Spirit,
uncovering fractal wonders of timeless octaves
LightHarmonic

LeftBrain sacred ecological
as Gaian Hypothesis
notnot Anti-WinWin Zeroism=Taoism

Polypathically resonant with Holy patriarchal-matriarchal ZenSpirit,
AnimaMundi, both Empty and Interdependent creolizing ambivalent,
Earth’s WinWin Zero-bilateral TaoSoul,

Deeply sacred bilateral WonderSoul,
sometimes LeftBrain attention deficited
to enhance RightBrain SacredElder hyperactivity,
belonging within cooperative consciousness,
both EgoLeft with EcoRight
co-balancing sacred climates,

Within
as without,
below
as above,
deductive
as inductive,
secularWin
as SacredWin,
natureWin
as spiritWin.
HealthWin
as CoInvesting WealthWin.

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Broken Planting Oaken Tree

We have tree traditions,
still accessible in diverse backward
and forward
reforesting cultures,
of planting a commemorative tree
when a great and portentous series of loving events
comes to its untimely rest.

Recently
my middle son’s lifetime friend
decided it was time to travel with the starlight
and so he left us heartbroken,
trying to be happy for him,
and sad without him,
to become OK with his decision
that he had uncovered enough sadness
despair
depression.
His final vote was cast
and no one else was invited
to participate in his great transitional selection.

So, my son and I
will go into our messy forest
also known as the back lot,
where former residents have dumped asphalt roofing shingles,
and buried an entire breaking down garage.

If we were to dig deeper than necessary
we would probably find other mislaid treasures.
Shattered glass bottles and hearts
and open rusted food and toxic feeling cans,
and plastic of all dismembering colors
and ugly unshapely shards of angst,
but this day
we will dig only as deep as we must.

We will first visit a handful of oak babies
sprouting up under bushes in the side yard
and among poison ivy on the north side
so my son can choose which of these
will become Greg’s oak tree of new life
not beyond
yet still after suicidal death.

We will prepare this sapling’s new home,
digging a deep and wide welcoming hole
among back lot brambles of our thoughts and feelings,
then clear away potential choking vines and voices
now covering a clearing
surrounding trees have left
just right enough for a growing Greg
Large shade tree
to hug my son’s grandchildren,
and their Greg the OakTree loving children.

Then we will uproot our chosen new life tree
with reverence
and baptize her future MotherTree roots
of sacred fertility,
and as we sprinkle holy compost
to shade her vulnerable transparency to shaded light,
we will sing our allegiance to gratitude
for each life created through Father Sun,
nourished with Mother Earth,
sadly smiled with sacred GrandMother Moon,
sprinkling sounds of thanks
for each day
of each life
this oak tree,
as Greg,
will continue bringing us.

We will read and look and listen as Jesus taught
it is ungrateful sacrilege to remain angry
about not having received more grace
than we could have earned with more generosity of time,
when we could choose instead
to give thanks for each day shared with us
doing the best we can,
to give care as we would continue to receive.

Our love for Greg
grows through this oak tree’s future shade,
and west wind protection
for all our future days of thanksgiving
and suffering lost loss,
security for our children’s
healthy and happier children
knowing
remembering
feeling
sensing
this canopy grown Greg
still choosing flight
with starlight nights.

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Summer of ’67

My canopy of early summer sounds
in 1967
was as intimate as adolescent knowledge
might ever become.

My sixteenth summer
sweetly smiled with driver’s permit,
my first job,
economic promise while the Beach Boys
and the Beatles sang a rainbow
of boy band diversity,
sang stories of straight white male revolutions,
evolutions of June firefly evenings
resounding bullfrog and cricket background vocals
on our family farm,
where good Christian Republicans
longed for good old Eisenhower years
when Father was wise
and always knew best,
and Vietnam was no more than an acrid draft
of wasted social
financial
political
environmental
nutritional capital,
not yet fully present.

This summer of 1967
was when I knew both anguish of embodied defeat,
hopelessly homosexual,
an yet poignancy of emerging mystical wonder
about what this could mean
fifty years from now.

I could not help fantasizing
how Paul and Art
might not only sing,
but dance, in poignant harmonies.

And,
as much as I laughed and loved and longed
to hear Stevie Wonder wondering
and Otis Redding wanting,
Marvin Gaye worshiping,
I so wished they could sound even better
with me.

Joni Mitchell
and Joan Baez
and Judy Collins,
like John Lennon,
were compelled to write and speak and sing
songs of love as freedom
growing transcendent
yet deeply fertile
Aquarian promise.

A promise bombed out
by uncivil wars
bound by fear of egocentered failure.
Fear our parents,
and half of my junior year classmates,
found compelling enough to throw away dollars
to build and buy
and transport
and explode bombs and bullets and boys,
nearly oblivious to hundreds of thousands of innocent men
and mothers
and children wiped out
by a mere strategic choice
to cover partisan ass
as the biggest baddest bully
on Earth’s shrinking block.

I didn’t blame him,
but when I called James Taylor
to rescue the Johnson and Nixon White Houses,
he did not come,
as promised,
to rescue me,
to remind us about our friend and family connections
across cosmic time
and Earth’s regenerate space.
A great ballad was just not enough.

In June of ’67
I was singing both “I Believe”
and “Love is Blue”
with equally honest passion
and thriving off a translucent vulnerable cover song
between these two impossibly incommensurable positions,
surrounded by straight evangelical predators,
sniffing for pinko faggot weakness.

I was so guilty
yet so in love with rightness
and ripeness
of my generation’s possibilities
for revolutionary integrity,
drawing together economic health
with political wealth
in some new golden ruling age
of relentlessly cooperative incorporation
and association
and ownership
and self-governance.

In this early summer of 1967
Martin and Bobby still walked with us
and one still dreamed he might see
someone who looked and thought and felt like him
as President one day
and the other I dreamed would become President
while I was still a high school junior.

So much devastation and disappointment followed.
It took at least a decade
and hundreds of thousands of human lives
treated like conscripted fodder
for nationalistic hubris of false pride
to arrive at the very treaty
our Vietnamese opponents had originally demanded.
And long before anyone from the U.S.
had been drafted and killed
for this offensive cause
of nationalistic non-defense.

Other health care and defense abuses
and losses
followed.
Neglect of women’s health.
Pedagogical loss of children’s deep ecological listening opportunities
to nondually co-arise with Earth’s polyphonic voices,
resources of multiculturing nutrition.

Yet I have these summer of ’67 memories
when,
for one diastatic season,
my revolutionary age on planet Earth
stood between despair of guilt
for what and whom I could never become
and celebrating hope for joy
of what we might yet reweave
timelessly singing and dancing
chanting and drumming
revolutioning and evolutioning together.

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Prescribing ReBirth with DT2

DT2 came to me, unwillingly and clandestinely,
only because he was referred by his mother,
who was concerned that he was growing up and out
to become an ego-terrorist,
and she had heard of my feminist work as ecotherapist–
so maybe her own WinWin hopes and dreams
for him
and her
and for her beloved matriarchal-fertile Earth,
could speak effectively with his WinLose terrifying games-man-ship.

DT2: You realize I think you’re a crock of shit witch
and I only brought you into this Oval Office
because that’s all my mother would accept
for Mother’s Presidential Day.

Me: Of course.
And it’s almost equally unpleasant to meet you too.
Yet isn’t it nice that you are already talking about your feelings?

DT2: Not particularly, no.
I talk about my feelings all the time.
In fact, some of my most mistrusted advisers and counselors
would like me to keep my feelings for WinLose business
under my corporate baseball cap.

Me: And it sounds like this may be why these advisers
too quickly grow mistrusted by WinLose patriotic-feeling you.

DT2: My national patriotism is not a matter of debate,
either internal or external.

Me: Yet perhaps your international matriotism
could become a matter of richer creolizing discussion,
just between us, if you prefer.

DT2: Don’t try to confuse me with your nature-spirit voodoo ways.
I told my mother
feminist ecotherapists are exactly what this nation does not need.

Me: And she disagrees with you,
and asked you to consider letting go of WinLose egocentric nationalist-patriotic you
to grab hold of WinWin eco-centric global
patriotic-matriotic bicameral ecopolitical balance.

DT2: I’m not the disloyal and sick one in this Office right now.

Me: And yet you sound so unhappy and unhealthy
and, frankly, ecopolitically WinWin dysfunctional.

DT2: To you, who thinks power is about feelings
more than controlling future corporate wealth.

Me: This is where you under-estimate your own potential.
Feminist ecotherapy speaks of both wealth and healthy feelings
as what we must,
and more or less matriarchally-domestically always have,
kept EliteLeft-Deductive/NonEliteRight CoEmpathic Trust together.
Yes I do care about the power of your passions,
both negative and positive,
both degeneratingly angry and fearful and terrified,
and regeneratively healthy and wealthy and cooperative,
but I also care about what this says to you about
our international future incarnated-incorporated-constitutional wealth
here on Earth,
where each future generation is bicamerally reborn and nurtured.

DT2: You naively give far too much power to love and cooperation.
My more stengthening experience
has been about patriarchal WinLose powers of survival
against threats of fear and hate and misguided anger management.

Me: And I can see this in your past,
as does your mother,
and your future remains a choice
to continue being over-powered by these unhealthy roots
of LeftBrain patriotic nationalistic elitist sexist dominance,
and yet also nondually co-arise your own RightBrain Elder
matriotic-embryonic cooperative nurturing phylogenic memories
of WinWin regenerative global flow power,
co-empathic trust-inductive with ecopolitically positive truth-deductive,
to grow your Wins with healthwealth regeneration
to also shrink your Losses against your own EgoLeft Deductive Prominence.

DT2: Thank you,
but I see our time is up.

Me: And going WinLose Survivalist old-school down,
with your primitive terrorist-theory of dysfunctional
nationalist-ego-reductive
Yang-supremacist
anti-creolizing
purist/loyalist
devolution.

DT2: I’ll not see you in Constitutional Law and Order Court.

Me: And yet we will be there,
within you,
right there in your Elder RightBrain BiLateral CoArising
Matriarchal BothAnd WinWin
Positive and DoubleBinding reverse dipolar co-arising
cognitive-affective dissonance.

DT2: I don’t have time to pretend that makes any sense
in my LeftBrain Dominant world of patriotic WinLose nationalism.

Me: And we don’t have time to ignore
our RightBrain Suppressed fear-mongering
as an inadequate Left-progress v Right-conserve substitute
for our Constitution’s CoOperative BiCameral Original Nurturing Intent,
Yin WinWinning ecotherapeutic LeftBrain Yang/Yin
ecopolitically creole-ElitePatriarchy/NonEliteMatriarchal Nurturing Feelings
symbiotically re-balancing Earth’s regenerative nature-nurture,
reweaving Left-Right ego/ecotherapeutic healthywealth.

DT2: That is not my WinElite-LoseNonElite mandate
from almost half of those bothering to patriotically vote
for me as a NonElite Washington-incorporated self-advocating outsider.

Me: And yet it is your WinElite-WinNonElite Matriarchal mandate
from the other half of those bothering to more ecofeminist WinWin vote
for Other.
Something to think about,
especially when your shrinking competition-oriented half
starts listening to our growing cooperative BothAnd EarthJustice half
for all Earth’s creolizing children and women and bicameral democratizing men,
and all EarthTribe’s cooperative Original Intent co-ownership and co-governing species
as ecopolitically WinWin nature-nurtured Earth.

DT2: Again, you have been too generous with my time.

Me: And yet ungenerous with your odds against Earth’s WinWin ecopolitical success.

DT2: I’m going to tell my mother you said that.

Me: She’s already RightBrain feeling it.
No worries.
Best of regeneratingly healthy luck.
Do you want to schedule a follow-up appointment?

DT2: No thanks.
Much too busy doing well with my Executive Orders
and twittering WinLose administration of quasi-Anger Management.

To summarize,
DT2 appears to live in a YangLeft v YinRight ego-encultured body
yet his bicameral mind evolved out of a matriarchal
YangDeductive-Conserve and YinInductive-Progress WinWin
co-arising nondual dipolar organic mind-body.

Cognitive-affective bilateral bipolar dissonance continues
his current paranoid-patriarchal too-prominent ecopolitical issues.
EcoTherapy: Grow WinWin L-R; shrinking WinLose inductive anti-trusting R.

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Lost Lake Odessa

My world spins round
too fast most times
from Greek deep roots
on Black Sea ports
to cross Jordan’s River
on Catherine’s Great
trains meet sailboats
greeting sea planes
flying off to ports unknown
throughout my Lake Odessa Highways.

Where Ottomans
blend Spanish matadors,
heroes for my day
and night bleeds forth
a calvary of force
to please titillating whims
of Lake Odessa’s middle class czarinas.

I can’t go home again
to places never born.
My mind can roam
and try to swim
and fly to where and what
and whom and why
we might have been
if we had built
a fine fair fortress
for peace that loves to rock
and sing sad songs
of what sights have been
in Lake Odessa.

Instead of gangs
and clicky clacks
we learn polycultured quacks
to flap and honk like Canadian geese,
to transubstand she ate
where America
begins to end
through Lake Odessa’s streets.

I’m much too busy
and self-important
sleep deprived
and programmed lose to lose
to win our way
back home again
where Lake Odessa meets.

The role of God
as played by me
writing comic operas
only kids can see
was what I loved
most secretly
in long lost Lake Odessa.

We need a better god for now
bringing peach tree jams
immortality
of love as wise
reframes lost loves
to live in jesting jars
of honeyed sweet
corns and thorns
for testing streets
tasting ancient Greeks
on shores of Lake Odessa.

We’re coming back
to save each other
from what might have been
without sly rudders,
tipping posts from wu wei mothers
to rebuild our crystal castle love
of forms that buzz with life
and tours that sag with history
spinning sprays of licks and waves
lapping soft and sandy
on long gone skies
of sanguine Lake Odessa.

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Belonging Teaches Longing

I wonder why we, of all people I have known,
fly and breathe and beat so far apart.

We who have shared as one strong heart
loyal only to therapeutic spells and smells
of hearts and flowers,
and old gay tales,
wherever these death-defying deviant truths might lead,
prepared to follow this good faith,
not once doubting what was best for other’s feelings
and warmest thoughts of trust,
was best for both in longer runs of patient faith
for someone made for you
as you are made of me,
or were you too much made by me
with this fertile loyalty
still wondering why we,
of all,
fly our ways as part
of two and many million more who dream as one,
yet cherishing our togathering memories.

Without them I would have never known
this feels too much apart.

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Spring Rain Memories

On these warmer spring nights
we rock in our front porch swing
hearing rain gurgle through satiated soil,
dialects of liquid reflection
speaking about our day,
past days,’
future days of love,
surrendering to dark spring rain intimacy,
but a passing car
spraying wet exhausting whines of power
reminds me you are no longer here.

We speak through smiles
of how we would be
when we ruled our worlds
with less mediocrity,
yet sad you are not here
to hear
what we remember
in my head,
my body warm
against this spring wet breeze.

We hear our breaths
praising stars hidden beyond dark rain night
but resonantly singing soprano arias
while we breathe in to sing back and out together,
but you are not here,
within this future memory of us,
failure to appear
now as here with me
to feel your love
more than an echo in my porch swing mind.

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