Uncategorized

Playing Old Maid

I recall a card game
probably extending back past the 1950s
called Old Maid.

There was also Authors
and a few other choices
less popular with me.
But Old Maid sticks in mind
as blatantly sexist
and ageist
and, for a country kid
in redneck rural Republican Michigan,
the most fun
of admittedly limited card playing options.

Whoever was stuck holding the Old Maid
at end of game
was the biggest loser,
for obvious reasons.

Who would want to be associated
with that old and useless appendage?

National politics in the U.S.,
all about the marketing, purchase, and sale
of two-year
and four-year terms of public greed responsibility,
increasingly reminds me
of OldMaid gamesmanship.

And, yes,
I don’t really mean gamepersonship.

This game for avoiding loss
of responsibility and authority,
loss of face
rather than gain of grace,
embracing mutual Wins
of shared commitment to health
and cooperatively prosperous safety,

This game in which the OldMaid
is played by aging fossil-fuel industries
played-out too often militarized
ballistic violence,

These OldMaid industrial choices
have most ballistically justified
plutocratic wars
inviting young,
and often most marginalized,
players
to live with losses to OldMaid political stuckness
in the name of patriotic duty,

Although not matriotic integrity
to our own healthy hands
for better Win-Win games
and political
and economic
and personal
and family therapy strategies,
less violently impinged by nationalistic traumas,
fear of losses
holding OldMaid over-industriously held cards.

No one wants to be in unlovely public office
when the last drop of oil
and last glistening gasp of gas
wears through now useless OldMaid pumps
and pistons,
unhappy triggers
and transdegenerational switches,
unlubricated OldMaid economic bitches.

No one wants to be in office
holding the last OldMaid dry-humped card
from a 1950s stacked deck
when 2020 revisions
change climate changing hands
into feminist story books
of how our generation
deliberately and stubbornly chose,
like stiff-necked self-chosen people
of OldMaids and PatriarchalMen,
counter-intuitively choosing the climate pathology card,
fascinated by our own death
and the death of our habitat
and the death of any future
of humane proportion and design,
rhythm and pattern.

When we have so many post-millennial cooperative Win-Win options
to actively hope
and act
and restoratively plan
and therapeutically draw climate health
for both ego and eco justice
and global peace for all,
including sacred Elder Matriotic Maids.

If only Old Feminist Maids and Matriotic Men
had written all required history
and civic lesson school books
and ecopolitical philosophy texts
and medicinal prescriptions
and legislated cooperative multicultural ethics
lesson plans
to practice
practice
practice
cooperation,

I wonder if having the Elder Matriot card
would have been how to win our Win-Win game,
and to do so,
would require letting go of all Old FakePatriot cards
of plutocratic,
and often patriarchal,
Lose-Lose economic-ecological exploitations,

Also post “ClimateChange”
known and named
as habitually competitive ClimatePathologies
longing to restore ClimateHealth.

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Uncategorized

Respect for ActiveHope

My thought for this day,
although still early,
is respect for hope.

Respect for our interdependence
and respect for our challenging differences,
important, yet hopefully not as powerful
as our interdependent love for healthy life.

Yesterday
I noticed a brown cardboard box
in the corner of a reception area
for our Infectious Disease Clinic
with a black marker sign above
“Books–Free to Give and Take”

There were only two books to take,
hard to estimate how many might be given.
Both of these current residents of the box,
waiting for their next conversational partners,
were written by a Senator Barack Obama.

One,
a biographical heritage journey
about living between society’s generous giving
and sometimes breathtaking taking
and stomping on differences
within primarily interdependent identities.

The title of the Senator’s other book,
“The Audacity of Hope” grabbed me
in part because,
by the time it was published,
the author was also a candidate
for the US Presidency,
and in part because of the way we are now living
in response to an AntiAudacious Hope Administration
reading from a script
to incarnate the reverse side,
“The Mendacity of Hopelessness”
of despair,
of nihilism,
of fake-piety,
of false nationalistic AntiEarth hubris

Marketed in red, white, and blue gift wrap
as [AntiMatriotic] Patriotism,
with sales remaining somewhat more pathological in Red States
than Blue and Green, maybe Turquoise,
or AquaMarine,
but defined as not-Red
as Red is confined to not
“The Global Audacity of CreativeHope.”

Susan Belden
lyrically asks
How do you love those who hate you?

We see some response in teachings of Jesus;
to turn the other cheek,
to walk a second enslaved by force mile,
to turn rifle associations into farming and gardening tools for good,
although this last one was a remix from Old Testament Prophets.
Tools for respecting interdependence
but also multicultural differences
still in creolizing process.

It is easy to hate Donald Trump,
or to see him as the Emperor without AudaciousClothes
of Grace
for Healthy Faith
as his unfortunate choice and lot in life.
Even easier
to go back and forth between these two,
blaming and shaming.

It is harder to hate those who voted for him.
Although I have an obsessively troubling place in my dissonant heart
and mind
for those who profess to be evangelists for a God of Love and Peace
but also profess their eager willingness to vote yet again
for The Nakedly Sexist and Supremacist Apprentice again.

Like the Body of Christ
continuing to empower the Head Pharisee.

How do you respect those
who build their futures
on disrespecting you
and yours
and your healthy futures?

How do you play Win-Win
with those who persist in the delusion
our only RealTime life option
is Win-Lose or Lose-Lose?

I suspect it is this Lose-Lose non-option
that disrespects our mutual economic
and political
and personal
and vulnerable fears,
our lie-group
proving what Win-Win would invite toward respect.

It is in witnessing what happens
when we take this risk of turning
our appositional faces
that we can invite
mutual respect
for the audacity of Win-Win non-violent healing.

It is when we walk this double-binding extra walk
with those who disrespect integrity and hope
and faith
and multiculturing love,
that we are more likely to discover
our own lack of strength
to remain vulnerable to shared evils
of ego-centrism
and anthro-centrism
lurking within our own hearts and minds

And bad faith harboring mendacity
and apathy about past violent colonization,
where empathy
and creolizing curiosity
and respect
could invite interdependent hope.

My audacity of hope
lies in faith
we always have a political and personal option
that is a Win both for our ego’s economic future
and for our Earth’s ecological future.
That this is true for healthcare giving
and receiving accessible to all Earth’s residents
and constituents,
whether voters or not even enfranchised,
whether we could even bear to hear their votes for respect
and not for disrespect,
or not.

Restoring Win-Win life options always optimizes peace outcomes,
audacious hope outcomes,
mutual respect for our inductive interdependence first,
and our deductive differences secondarily,
and contingently
compromising suboptimal democratic intent
settling for short-term Win-Lose outcomes,
leaving less room for love of complex internal multicultural rights
than hate for external monoculturing chaotic wrongs.

Infectious Disease Clinics
are good places for more Audacious Hope
and democratic multiculturing Love.
But so would any classroom,
so would the Parent rack
of any bookstore–
required reading for any healthcare legislator,
any ecopolitical policy maker,
any person wanting to grow hope
as respect first for our living interdependence,
second for loyal and gratefully shared differences
feeding further curiosity
and deeper empathy
and stretching faith in respect
across extending nature-spirit families
sharing this one global sacred Habitat

Concelebrating many liturgically evolving flags
all blowing in our shared
audacious winds of hope.

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Uncategorized

Apple Farmers on Trump’s Administration

I was interviewing farmers
about how they see Presidential performance
in Trump’s first year as CEO
of this USA,
incorporated
for a yet more perfect Union:

Well, I believe he only has one national leader
who has publicly announced
that he will do whatever he can
to kill him,
and probably take out the rest of us
along his nuclear warhead way.

So, is that a concern
or congratulations
or both?
How does that performance number compare to your predicted outcomes?

Oh, I figured maybe more than one
by now.

Because…

I thought his
“I’m taking America Out First”
assault on the Paris Climate agreement
might generate a more immediate heating up
of the world’s international firing range.”

I’m still confused
about whether you are giving him a pass,
because you didn’t really think any national leader could do anything
to advance your peace of mind,
or whether you are disappointed
with the Trump administration’s performance
this first year.

That would make it at least two of us.
But, let me tell you,
I believe he may be the first President
to publicly threaten to turn an entire,
or maybe just a half, nation
into a nuclear holocaust.

So he’s threatening with the biggest stick so far.
Are you hoping to see that escalate
or de-escalate?

We’re all kind of hoping things might calm down.
Nuclear waste is really hard on the apple harvest.
Hard to grow apples without the basics,
like trees,
or folks to plant
and pick
and eat from them.

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Red and TrueBlue Family

Red and TrueBlue Family–2

My dear Siblings,

I voted for Hillary.
I would have preferred Bernie,
but she agreed to much of his platform-especially universal health care and education and seemed to be cognizant of environmental/climate change issues and bonus–she’s a woman!

How I feel now? I am still haunted by the sound of my millennial son as he stood in the shower the morning after the election,
sobbing,
grief stricken,
mourning the loss of freedom and safety for many of his friends of different races,
nationalities,
sexual identities
and religions.
I am both immensely proud of him and fear for him
when I remember him coming out of the bathroom after that gut wrenching and utterly hopeless outpouring of tears.
He wore the look of a young man going off to war
and declared his allegiance and his personal protection to all those now named targets of hatred.

I’m not sure that I would have the courage to be a millennial now.

I recently watched about 20 snapping turtle hatchlings emerge, one by one, from a small hole in the sand bank above the pond and embark on a hilarious topsy-turvey tumble down the embankment and disappear into the dark stillness under the lush green vegetation of the shallow water.

Along the way some of them appeared to die.
At one point, the lifeless forms were starting to pile up near the exit hole of the nest and I feared for those still waiting for their turn to feel the sunlight on their faces.

What amazed me was to see how these little creatures responded to each other.
One would walk right over the top or lightly brush up against the side of an apparently dead sibling
and suddenly they were moving along together.
I imagined one saying to the other,
“Come on. You can do it. Don’t stop now.”
or maybe “I’ll race you”,
like I used to say to Jeremy when I wanted him to move faster.

I was relieved and very satisfied when the last one slipped into the pond;
a proud midwife.

I can only hope that the extreme disregard for the Earth and all her creatures,
including human beings,
that is spewing out of our political system and corporations
will incite all of us to a new way of being;
to getting everybody to the pond.

Lovingly,
Kerry

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Uncategorized

Isms Singing AntiIsms

Fascism has grown cancerous maturity
to pathologically enforce
what mere nationalistic military-industrialized supremacy
would patriotically endorse.

Supremacists of race or gender
or metaphysical systems of personal as political investment,
mistake allegiance to icons and idols and pledges
of national privilege
for personal passion and investment in gratitudes of love
for EarthTribe’s WinWin Lands with blessing waters,
Gaian Principles
of Organic Health Co-Governing Procedures.

Against fascist growing cancers
degeneratively unfolding
what EarthTribe regenerative optimization
has more matriotically embraced.

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Uncategorized

PreTrumpian Pronouncements

I saw there was a mow-down in Las Vegas
of country western loves.
And also heard our President
was about to share his view.
But before he had his chance
to enlighten one and all,
I figured his best solution
was to hope before the next time
we’ll all do our patriotic duty,
go out and buy the best automatic multi-repeating rifle
with scope that we can afford to buy,
so everyone can keep a well-scoped eye
on all the other country western wise
before we blast each other’s patriotic duty
to stand and salute both our flags of equally good history,
leave no child with any color standing,
left unpatriotically behind.

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Uncategorized

Same Ol’ Song and Dance

As I look back across my more musical times
of rhythmic reflections,
ceremonies and commemorations
of each dawn and dusk eremitic liturgies,
if that is not an oxymoron
of sound and sight,
song and dance,
tragically sad, yet also bilaterally bound with happier chance
of liturgical comedies
reflected upon together.

And as we look out through all our co-diva taoist days
like pages of leaves we have co-written,
we grow one primordial Tipping Point,
that we are each both tragic
and most abundantly comedic
when held together
through mutually revolutionary
Bodhisattva Warrior eco/ego-identity.

And,
with our ends held together,
what matters most
to and for and of all of us,
is when we have fed tragic
and where we have bled comedic
into the transparently naked (0)Remainder WinWin Othernest
as soon as therapeutically possible.

When was the last time
you turned to whomever, always present,
sitting next to your Leftsaid,
with at least one exclamation point,

That was totally Yang-awesome!

It might have been at the end of a song
heard for the first time
in a particularly deep and rich,
and possibly a bit also high,
way.

Or maybe during a dance
that was totally radical,
perfect to each beat
each lyrical swell and ebb
filled with athletic grace
of freakishly limber space
and centered
like a linear 4D pivot
we each potentially arcingly are
as we become this music’s dancing story,
beautifully
exquisitely reincarnating
us down
into your stage of life’s most recent crippling bow,
with tragic-comedy final statement,
tragedy of each end
with comedy of wonder
for each protagonist opera
in which our only antagonist
was perfect meeting of lyrically rhythmicizing here
with timeless now’s completely committed integrity
of ego/eco-consciousness
reweaving

Personal tragedy of missed integrity closes
to further comedies of dissonant clumsiness,
stumbles of feet and hands and mind
and pens
about dancing through life and death ourselves
as totally awesome
tragic-comedic ecopolitical choreography
with public sector lyrics
for what started out as a deeply personal
intimate
vulnerable liturgicalizing matriarchal-wombed life.

Or maybe Wow!
was when you were leaving church,
and mosque
and temple
and synagogue
and generic everyday BusinessAsUsual faith family,
smiling about
how to better dance
our mutual resonant opportunities,
to feed the juice
and starve the monoculturing weeds.

Wow! Totally awesome
love,
grace,
synergy,
creolization
Thanks for singing and dancing
and taking us to church
with you,
where we each belong
multiculturally YangHere with YinNow
bilateral balancing
and limber spiraling
together.

I awaken
to both the parent of special ecopolitical needs
and ecological opportunities,
but also the part-time Taoist hermit diva,
totally co-investing in WinWin liturgical planning,
each multiculturing day
within dawnspace harmonic singing Yang
through Yin dualdark
co-arising lyrics
with Bodhisattva EcoFeminist Warriors,
First Native International Cooperative Networks
each ego-anonymous
collegially remembering co-protagonists
of Earth’s tragic-comedic multiculturing sad despair
with silent democratic
solidarity
liturgically ecological matriotic
YangSong with WinWin dance,
here and also now
(0)Soul rhythms
of long slow stealthy blues as also green
balancing creolic outgoing choreography.

Antagonizing local people about their malingering protagonist rights,
their song as dance resources,
and their musically harmonic knowledge,
does not patriotically rest unchallenged.

Forest struggles
continue resisting buying and selling and renting of protagonist
song and dance forests,
including stories internal to India,
yet not in Asia alone.

Forest resacralizations resist secularizing diminishment
of forests for tragic exploitation
by patriarchalYang commodifying not (0)-interest profits,
and dipolar co-gravitating transubstantiation
from liturgically abundant ecological resources
for tragic song and comedic dance
back into a bad faith commodifying community.

Villagers sang and danced our tragic removal
demotion of rich ecoforests to mere positive productions
from notnot negatively dwindling reserves
asserting ego/eco-justice rights
to satisfy our basic
continuing together tragic-comedic needs.

Feeding critical tragedy for underdog lyrics
while bleeding sad danced systematic allegiances
against monocultural demands for fake-patriotistic choreographed events,
non-violent protests
were crushed by One Nation Don’t Mean First Nation,
cause I wasn’t born yesterday
or the day before that,
or before doing a really great job
of making more money
for some really good people
who just got caught up in the right place
in my best time
Trump,
among the USA evangelical faithful;
as crushed by British colonialism,
among Central Asian Bodhisattva ReForesters
and Eastern American First Nation PreForesters.

In the Himalayan mountain bioregion
the Chipko women’s movement
began liturgically embracing living MotherTrees
as their protectors,
their own source
of food
and fuel
and fiber
and fertile habitat.

The Onandaga First Nation School
reimagined how children might non-violently speak and move
their dawn hugged liturgies to remember alleged thanksgivings
for MotherTrees,
their hugs
hugging ours in music and danced liturgies
of Earth-allegiance gratitude,
basic positive cooperative
matriarchal song and dance
with Tipping Points
of taoist divas
dipolar co-arising
(0)-soul long slower bluesy terms
of jazz rhythmic
creolizing
song as dancing attitude.

As I look back across more musical times
of rhythmic reflection,
allegiance ceremonies and gratitude commemorations
of each dawn and dusk danced liturgy,
I look forward too.

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