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Waking Up Despair

Waking up to despair,
sadness,
bone-tired at war with a beeping alarm clock,
an alarming list of immediately urgent responsibilities
without an opportunity in sight,
or at least not this first despairing fright,
at end of night.

If this sounds familiar
as at least your normal Monday through Friday,
you probably need a better way toward bed
the night before.

Most likely, earlier.

But also,
even for many with mindfulness practices,
disciplines
with their own short and long-term rewards
for both natural and spiritual health,
remembering gratitude
is our interior face
of grace’s exterior face,
or karma’s exterior influences,
or love’s potential winners winning
full circle in theory,
yet too anemic during this dreaded alarm clock time.

If yours is solely a morning contemplative practice,
after you wave the kids off to school,
after the gym or the run,
after the personal hygiene,
it is already too late
to optimize your opportunity
to wake up with least claustrophobic despair
and most expansive hope
building toward faith
that this day just might be even better
than yesterday,
as utterly remarkable as yesterday appeared
as you were mindfully drifting off to sleep
perhaps even before greeting GrandMother Moon’s
new through full repeat performances.

She’ll be here all week,
visible and sometimes invisible,
guarding your restorative rights and responsibilities
toward regenerating tomorrow’s realistic gratitude
for renewed opportunities
to brush your teeth,
and greet each child and significant other,
to notice if these wake with a smile
toward this day,
or with a scowl
for lack of sleep
or a good dream interrupted,
and recognizing how this is two ways
of saying one important not yet thing
which can build toward despair,
and further lack of more therapeutic dreams.

It is an important personal and also political choice
to prepare for sleep
repairing for tomorrow’s grace
or in dread against our memories of grace’s lack,
apparent absence,
persistently stuck issues
too overwhelming to think or feel our way out of,
through,
beyond.

These are important items for evening contemplation too.
But, when I am making my lists,
I start with minuses,
drift off counting my appositional pluses.
They are both there
within us
if we can choose restorative faith
after our lights turn out.

In this sense
we can choose our karma,
our awareness of positive and negative grace.
Love’s tones of restorative therapy
and retributive punishment,
if not yet quite overwhelming gratitude,
also not awakening to further despair
from chronic days of self with other abuse and neglect.

I continue having a dream
that the night everyone in military-industrialized cultures
drifts off feeling graced with opportunities
to become and do every cooperative thing we can
to guarantee Earth’s future of healthy exterior climates,
that is the night before our first morning
arising together
without overwhelming internal competing despairs.

Faith that this restorative therapeutic day
could unfold no less grand
than this dream we shared
our polypathic
demilitarizing
dis-industrializing
less exhausting night before.

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Saturday Night

It’s another Saturday night
ending this week
as started
alone again.

I came here
almost two years ago
to my retirement hermitage
but oddly,
and often uncomfortably,
shared with my hurt kids,
mental and physical illness
adopted and then adapted;
an asylum for the perpetually incontinent.

Cars pass by.
Sometimes a loud motorcycle
or two or three or four
or even more
here on the southern boundary
of a county seat
in a State
where rural counties
have been disenfranchised
of political purpose.

Our largest employers
are two tribally owned casinos.
One across the Thames River
flowing past our backyard retreat.

Our second largest income producer
may be the County Courthouse
where attorneys and police
collude to extort voluntary donations
from poor young adults
red and yellow,
black and white,
guilty of speeding
and texting
and smoking medicine
without a license
in Great White Father’s sight.

I have been listening and watching
for what this half acre is.
We are not as rural as I had hoped,
with State highway 12 too near my front yard,
but this place is also not urban
or suburban.

What it is not,
whom we are not,
seems more clearly articulated
than any positive definition,
refining our becoming quiet place,
alone together,
shunned by healthier neighbors.

It’s another lonely ending
anticipating yet another not new beginning
tomorrows stretching out alone
long retiring shadows
on this southern edge
of a Connecticut County Seat
without apparent purpose
or co-defining meaning.

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Inside Outdoor Voices

Just as honesty plants seeds of integrity
so too
vulnerability plants seeds of honesty.

My primary vocation
in this my gay grandfatherly retiring age
is to parent mindbody challenged adolescents
of diverse colors
as ecotherapeutically as possible
to optimize their and our wealth
of health,
growing nutritional elements and moments
into humanely co-operative organisms
with good days
more than bad.

More or less like watering the flowers
and ignoring the weeds,
or, better yet,
repurposing the weeds,
redirecting their potential energy
in a more nutritiously nurturing way.

My kids not only are vulnerable,
they know they are vulnerable,
and this tends to make them exceedingly honest
with themselves
with me
with each other
about what is funny and what is tragedy.

They are easy to parent
in this way.
Yet this same vulnerability
is their greatest risk
in a too often competitive,
and mindless of other’s special needs,
world.

We communicate connected to the feeling level,
even while learning the ABCs,
the 1 through 100 percents of good and bad numbers
and proportions and balance and symmetry,
the drawing of self-portraits,
homes,
Earth and Her Sun.

Often these inside feeling voices
do not feel well enough to care about the ABC’s,
or even the needs of those we need to love
and to love us,
to be as lovely with as possible.
Inside feeling voices
become loud and angry and hurt outside voices.

I noticed this the other day
when old family friends dropped by.
Not quite as old as I
and therefore much less retired
from life’s exterior competitions.

When we had time to visit several times per week,
we often began together
checking in about how our inside voices were feeling today,
happy or sad,
depressed or triumphant,
and usually some more richly nuanced place between.

Then we would turn to our big outdoor voices.
What we were working and playing on and with
in our back and front and side-yards,
the gardens and woodlands of our productive nutritional lives,
how the pets and pests
and domestic egg-layers were feeling,
and why
and why not.

These two voices generally resonated with each other.
What we were working on with Outdoor Voices
said something about nutrition and health we were working on
as individuals
as a family
with our Inside Voices,
and vice versa.

Only then,
if there was nothing else to do,
no further outdoor recreations
and discernment projects,
would we return to more
yet less intimate and vulnerable
Indoor Voices.
Work and play projects in perpetual interior process.
The noticing of more ornamental acquisitions
like ceiling and wall and floor coverings,
safer boundaries
about what we could see together
through all those more interior feelings
and thoughts about relationships,
past and future and present interactions,
transactions of value and disvalue,
warmth and cooler apathy.

I remembered this yesterday
when old friends,
no longer neighbors, revisited
and we began with new floor and ceiling coverings
and ended with farewell.
They arrive so late
it is already past time to be back home
to get ready for another Indoor Voices
monotonous
monoculturing day.

Which, this morning,
results in feeling blessed
to be here in this time and place
to listen and speak at our leisure
with my vulnerable no-boundary kids,
outrageously honest about their nutritional needs
and wants,
speaking with full volume integrity
in both Inside Outdoor Voices,
health
meets and greets and eventually defeats
pathology,
through honest integrity
of repurposing redirection,
feeding the flowers
and noticing how funny the weedy Outdoor Voices
sound indoors
feeling our way through the ABCs
and the 1 through 100% flowering days
and mean weedy nights.

I’m surprised and disappointed
my former neighbors didn’t notice all the new fruit trees
and berry bushes
poppies and lilies
strawberries and tomatoes
onions and garlic
asparagus and rhubarb,
and 17 new solar panels on the roof!

My kids could care less
and probably never more
what our old friends did
and did not
notice,
other than their own Voices
vulnerably maturing into integrity,
I hope.

Still,
I’m glad they noticed,
because the liked,
the new floor and ceiling covers.

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False Prophets

Disciples: How will we know True from False Prophets?

Teacher: You will cooperatively discern them
by their polycultural-loving outcomes.

When does fear that disasters are becoming too relentlessly true,
masquerade as anger that such events and facts and trends
must not be true,
conspiracies of elite-alien over-powerers?

Fear and anger are bipolar opposites
and, more importantly,
are dipolar points of paranoia’s contrasting equivocations.

Fear strikes inward
while anger lashes out.

In-between lies double-binding denial
that the other could become a deconstructive co-motivator,
a partner in paranoia’s past crimes
against reality
not faced straight-forwardly,
with autonomous power and sufficient courage
and loyalty to those who have already been hurt,
and continue hurting,
by terror and pain
violence and degenerative disintegrative mayhem.

Are deniers of bad news
responsible for what they say
and therefore free to speak their responsibility
for economic and political and ecological realities
they are psychologically compelled to deny,
especially through compulsively loud, sometimes violent, repetition?

Are those who are confused
and enmeshed in their fear-constructed worlds
responsible for their anger-mongering on bad days,
anger management on better days,
tendencies?
How responsible could truth terrorists be
while maligning the minds,
and sometimes vulnerable bodies,
of those who speak hard to hear histories,
threatening ever more violence
and terror across landscapes
and climates of one’s own lifetime,
one’s own people,
family and allies,
kin?

Early interventions,
exorcisms of fear and anger power
are most effectively performed by wise parents,
listening mentors seldom available
to rampant waves of ill-developed paranoia,
rooted in alternative angry and distorted fact-telling,
xenophobic conspiracy constituents
of pretend historical facts.

How do we respond to our neighbors
who are also angry deniers of inconvenient facts?
Alien AngerBuilders
unwilling to speak truths to further paranoia producing prophecies?
Bad news will repeat and grow
unless we learn cooperation’s RightBrain creations
co-governing inductive truths
of mentor more powerfully inter-relational than pathological climates
and internal landscapes
of dis-membering empty-nonevents.

We have been born into this time of immigrant-identified
and threatened crisis
unwilling to repent
unskilled to Right with Left reweave,
Earth’s eco-native Commons Spirits
ecological nature-power
with economic cooperative-nurturing powersharing,
Golden Rule multiculturally co-committed
to further growing with each other,
to not perish in a self-paranoid silo
of double-binding terror.

Imagine these conspiracies dis-owning you,
belonging within no alien other,
and denials of past and on-coming events and facts
magically evaporate this night
because of our dreaming healthy futures
we will cooperate together
even through this most patriarchal Father’s Night,
committed to ecosystemically reconnect
FalsoEgo with TrueEco
Left with Right co-mentoring mental health
ego/eco-centering double-binding wealth
of cooperatively loving co-arising opportunities
less hopeless bound by LeftBrain dominant denials
of RightBrain fear-taught conspiracies,
cognitive-affective learned dissonance,
entropic-chaotic dis-ease.

Paranoid denial double-binds
are empowered by negative-fueled criminalization,
violent attention,
abusively relentless shaming response,
absence of listening through Basic EcoCentric CoPresence
asking faithful questions
more than providing loving answers,
trusting through this deep ecology listening journey
mental illness faithfully listening with
searching depths of self-loving therapies,
co-healthing allies,
internal co-mentors
co-messianic Bodhisattva Warriors
of and for peace,
health’s understory
for cooperatively therapeutic ego/eco-justice.

Denying the right to publish
those who deny the rights and wrongs of ecologists,
ecotherapeutic analysts,
forecasters,
truth-tellers of pathological unweaving health-assurance trends,
to speak and listen with and to and for and of us,
our cooperative global polyphonic potential together
is not a denial of free truth-telling speech,
because confusion between True and False Prophets
cannot lead to anything other than conspiracy fears
and angry unfreely shouted untruths.

Giving ego-manic mental illness a microphone
for spreading contagious fears and anger
especially among those already vulnerable,
troubled adolescents and children,
abused and shamed and hurt and lectured-to adults
of cooperative WinWin ignorance,
ensnared in monoculturing monopoly games
of Win to Lose LeftBrain supremacist
neglect.

Rather than giving my ecopolitical microphone
to further inflame unskilled unfree to speak Truth
competitive marketers of Anger and Fear Management
as our best autonomously suboptimizing hope,
I find it better to broadcast contagious cultures of ecotherapeutic wealth,
ego/eco-centering abundant health.

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ManicDepressive Climates

Depression is like dying
without hope this process will end well,
without remediation
at least not for my closely held ego-identity,
and despair
this turning inward
creates a cocoon by avoiding outward.

Focal awareness of ego mortality,
immanent and emanant,
eminent,
turns inward,
returns inward
in despairing response against outward;
the whats and whos of external metaphysical life.

Depression brings tacit fixation on mortality
while advanced notice of irremediable pathologies
brings focal awareness
this is ego’s final stage of turning in,
away from out,
now already on that other side of a great timeless ego-boundary.

Those who die alone,
whether through depression or physical decomposition,
live inside a cloud of memories,
worries and anxieties
within which hope of further actively interdependent relationship,
experience of therapeutic communication,
may evaporate
especially if this is how we have lived apart together.
These alone with worries easily overwhelm
abandoned within our depressed boundaries
against others,
against possibility of natural experience as joy,
wonder
curiosity
compassion
love within further health becoming.

Depression, especially as it grows chronic,
within an individual,
within a played-out political culture,
within a longterm economic trend,
can be accompanied by paranoia.
Fear of turning terminally inward.
Worry that there is nothing inside
still becoming part of outside,
without capacity to influence, effect, affect,
other than to infect with further contagious
anger and depression about isolation
and deprivation,
neglect of healthy relationship,
violent ego-abuse
craving therapies for self-administered escape.

Internal voices become an anxious debate
about over-consuming
and under-producing life.
Not measuring up to original hopes
and intent of co-creating Paradise.

Depression is typically humorless,
especially when accompanied by flights of paranoia.

Humor, whether manically fluid
or dryer, more cool sardonic,
more vulnerably exposing of ego’s childlike dispositions,
and adolescent gender-related predator and prey articulations,
is not accessible from within paranoia’s cocoon
of fear
that ego’s core is empty white cold disassociating noise.

Manic oppression of others
erupts into the geometric opposite view,
what was concave depressed grows convex anger,
even rage.
Ego becomes SuperEco,
equivalent with Earth’s polypathic interdependent
ecopolitically self-justifying powers,
entitlement to terrorizing extremes
to take
to use
to enslave
to exploit
in return against Earth’s profound disappointments
and unfairness suffered in the name of others’ claims for freedom
to own whatever and whomever remains outside Left-your/Right-our
self-identified cocoon of integral becoming.

Love and humor and regenerate faith
lie midway between these two extremes
of manic Yang interdependent ecopolitical empowerment
and negative dualdark Yin,
both depressed for reasons of past mutual oppressions,
and feeling antipathically paranoid
about this great emptiness inside.

Both love and humor
evaporate this great barrier reef
between tragic depression
and comedic obsession
with our overpowering egotistic LeftBrain dominant charm.

Capitalism,
as contrasted with cooperatively co-investing capital,
is in idolatrous tension
with therapeutic roots
of Catholicism
and all forms and rituals of Messianic Saviorism.
Here lies our incapacity
to both serve a regenerative healthy God
and a degeneratively reified,
desacralized,
depressed Mammon,
organic Creation
without nutritional Creator.

Capitalism grows ever more virulently rabid
as my ultimate Win
always and everywhere must be at your Lose expense;
investing in manic ego is my higher priority,
and should be,
in dubious fact,
due to laws of competitive predator nature,
must be above cooperative organic investing
in ecoEarth as holy Other.

Whereas positive faith systems,
including all dialects of Judeo-Christianity and Islam,
Buddhism and Taoism and Hinduism,
teach, and sometimes behave,
following WinWin cooperative Golden Rule
as Original Intent of regenerate Earth
iconized as God
and/or Goddess
and/or Allah
and/or Atman, etc.

So, when we hear,
through our too often depressed
and repressed
and suppressed ears,
that military threat and violent arms
are our ecopolitical first choice
to grow economic freedom away from depression,
we can also hear the satanic voice of Capitalism
growing freedom toward
totalitarian manic monoculturing Yangism.

Capital,
removed from a sacred ecological resource for health co-investment,
becomes degenerative of wealth for interdependent freedoms,
rooted in this equivalence
between universal co-relational identity with Earth,
our original embryonic Paradise cocoon,
wombing empty integrity,
(0)-sum ego-ecopolitical
cooperative nondual co-arising intent
as timeless interdependent/empty co-identity
within RealWorld cooperative spacetime.

This barrier reef of Left with Right identity
includes both polypathic comedy
and antipathic tragedy,
yet never all of one
unless some of other,
each side searching WinWin applications
reiterating Left-Right Golden Rules of Tao-balance,
recreating freedom
synonymous with both heady capital
and nondual dipolar tailish eco-equity
co-investing fairness.

Freedom from depression toward sublime multiculturing wonder;
freedom to elate subprime depression’s passing.

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