Uncategorized

Sorting Through BiNomials

Where do I draw my bilateral line
in a polycultural sandbox?

In-between a merely personal traumatic
severing
excommunicating
dispassionate
divesting
divorcing
marginalizing
loss and suffering event

And a larger staged
eco-political
critical systemic
potentially multi-generational
traumatic climate event.

Why does it feel important
to distinguish,
and perhaps discriminate
personal from ecopolitical systemic trauma?

Against an InsideEgo post-traumatic stress disordered
biosystem
And against an Outside EcoClimate post-traumatic stress
Patriarchal/Capitalist disordered
monoculturally fragile
non-universal health
and non-unitarian education
eco-political delivery system

Contrasting EgoIn/EcoOut-gravitating polymathic deductions
rationally concluding wealth optimizing bias
for GoldenRule WinWin health communications

Both/And non-linear nuancing
EitherCause/OrEffect LeftBrain dominant
debate boundaries,
dualistic
deductively labeled
and crisply verbalized
words as pointed weapons
when more compassionate tools
feel too abstract
and post-traumatic win/lose
chronically stressed,
unavailable
inaccessible
not articulate,
polarizingly defined

Dipolar co-arising RightMind inductions
invite non-linear Both/And feelings
double-binding cognitive compassion
win/win internal communications

X v Y LeftBrain
RightWing
Either capitalist economic Space
Or patriarchal political Time
constant zero-sum variables

On our best non-traumatic thriving days
also X/Y-exponential NonZero Zones
exponentially expanding
RightBrain unsuppressed
co-arising resilient health/wealth systemic
binomial dipolarities

Taoist YangSpace valued Matters
equal bilateral in/out
Yintegral Earth health/wealth
restorative justice Time

Bilateral dynamic spiraling,
ecofeminist integral,
bicameral infusion
of resonant serotonin
and resilient dopamine
critical well-being waving back

To and through deep
and wide Post Traumatic StraightWhiteMale Disordered
rememories
of indigenously felt nature/spirit
science/religioning
secular/sacred reconnecting
Either/Or = Both/And resilient inter-religioning
polycultural communion
bicameral harmonics.

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Uncategorized

Packing Up

Moving out feels much sadder
than moving in, more gladder–
which is poor grammar
for severance of love’s embodied glamour.

Packing up
feels more like packing in
and down,
cutting ties with my own stage,
this playful working space,
for everyday self
and other witnessing life
love
hate
joy
anger
courage
fear
healing
suffering

Not a fabulously grand stage
but my intimate memories
triggered by damp basement
through dusty attic,
inside resonant
and outside growing resilient,
front yard exhibitions
and back yard more inhibited glimmers
and shivers,
dimmers
and emotive rivers

Moving out
without regard for loss
feels too surgical,
masochistic,
violent,
silent shriek of bad faith
loss,
divestment from personal
political
economic
cultural placement
more sacredly cherished
than secularly calculated
in clock time to move on.

My best therapeutic intent
to know I leave this tiny spot of Earth
at least as healthy
and beautiful
as I have found her
while unpacking
in her abandoned
neglected
bramble thorned sadness
inviting my hope-filled gladness
too few years ago.

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Uncategorized

Homeward Loss

Heart is where my home is,
my soul,
my memories of becoming,
of being at my best,
sometimes my worst,
but always my most full, complete,
most abundantly happy, content.

Home unveils life’s liturgy.
This home where I was conceived
and born
has rebirthed me each dawn
through all my dream time,
where I grew up,
where siblings moved on,
where I was married,
from where I buried my grandparents,
and then my parents.

As my body houses my identity
my home houses my body.
While home and self-identity can be distinguished
one from the other,
this is never a benign discrimination;
a distinction without prospects for contented difference,
dishearted separation.

My soul and mind and body fade and wilt
withdrawn by force and circumstance
from my embryonic being.
To awaken or sleep away
in any other place,
without power or even hope to return,
fades my eyes and ears and nose,
my skin down to my spinal bones,
despair this senseless loss of sense
of life and breath and bread that once was mine
and could be mine to share again.

My home is where I live
my view of neighbors and town and Earth and life
flowing sedately toward, then past too quickly
on my backyard river
greeting ducks and swans
herons and eagles soaring by
to hunt this fertile rippling home with me
now fading into memory
as memory shades to apathy,
and apathy to this sad isolation
from my heart’s womb.

 

For Caroline

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