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Who I Am Right Now

Who are you?
he asked perpetually, patiently
because I invited him to do so
until our time for contented me
to discover his diversely integrated/fragmented identities,
stories,
critical acting
and singing
and dancing
and warring
and terrorizing
and confronting events
right now,
and in past network iterations
and throughout future synergetic neural regenerations
of lifeline transgenerational memory.

Who are you?

I am an interdependent neural-systemic journalist,
a witness hoping to WinWin reconnect
with cooperatively invested communion ego-courage
to know and appreciate you,
your inhabited past
and echoing future
and my own best regenerative green sanctuary ego-self.

Who are you?

I am curious
about your enchantment
with interdependent neural webs
of communication,
toxic and therapeutic,
between humane capital heads,
comparing and contrasting green economic and nutritional co-investments
in democracy, not privilege,
usually cooperative,
but sometimes dissonantly suffering competing bodies
longing for relief
from EarthTribe’s WinToday to LoseTomorrow mortal enculturations,
wounding marks of perpetually anticipating tensions
about who we are
and are not yet
together.

Who are you?

I am future cooperating courage
to believe our WinWin dreams
and needs,
our hopes
co-arise positive and negative feelings
for and of, against and fleeing from,
green optimizing sanctuary communion
communities,
families,
hearts and minds
restoring polypathic neural democratic trust
communi-nonstatic
creolizing
vulcanizing resilience
between what we think and feel and resonantly say
and where we choose to use
our therapeutic hands and feet,
left dominant minds
punishing and restoring health-right holistic bodies,

Interdependent therapeutic webs
of natural body and spiritual minds
bent toward co-passionate green-means-healthy-grow relationships,
non-sectarian
non-partisan
non-violent
non-apartheid
non-privileged patience
with partial WinWin green sanctuary communions

Actively hoping for EarthTribal DNA interdependent stringing messages
within EarthPlaced integral HereNow messengers
listening, then gratefully speaking
Namaste.

Now it’s time to turn this listening/speaking table,
Who are you?

Then, for a later session,
How are we resiliently green cooperative communicators
communing communion communal
compassionate sanctuary together?

And,
please avoid terms like
communistic communalist
because that raises all sorts of toxic
anti-social isolating unkindness and impatient paranoia
and misunderstanding of original WinWin democratic motives
moving toward green social well-being prosperity,
as if liberality of love
could toxically threaten conservational green therapeutic defenses
found in robust democratic webs of deep resilience
rather than patriarchal fake-walls of privileged resistance.

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The Neighbor’s Wife

He’s been struggling with depression,
She said, so then have I.

It’s our bad news
that competing depressions
breed more contagiously
than our cooperative feeding happiness.

Yet our good news grows:
Depression and positive impression
are equally contagious passions
pastimes
eruptions into changing flowstreams of consciousness,
evolving conscientiousness,
naked intention,
interdependent awareness,
enchantment and disenchanting stories,
natural causes spiriting effects causing co-acclimating affects,
positive and negative passions,
pressures,
impressions,
compression.

I’ve been struggling against his self-repression,
she said,
so then he worries about his oppressive powers
financial and political and emotional,
physical and mental.

He doesn’t hit me
or any sentient being
but scares me when he hits
and manhandles against his phone,
kicks against his car,
strikes against his walls and doors and windows,
his property he most interdependently cares about,
relies upon.

This chronic environment of fear,
seeing his violent anger
causes our climate anxiety
and a lack of safely transparent expression,
chronic non-vulnerable repression.

The difference between my suppressed fear feelings
of repression
and his depressed anger feelings,
threatening to disinvest oppression
despite his great attraction to Us,
is a real-talk difference
only if we both know
we are each free to affordably leave,
cut our future health-opportunity losses,
without threat of violent and impoverishing repercussions.

While a free Get Out Of Jail card
and a blinking Safe Exit sign
over our back doors
and front doors
and aside windows
are not much for sharing journeys toward active compassion,
co-operative wonder,
interactive awe,
mutual health and happiness,
prosperous food for mental fitness,
Yet neither is flood insurance
a sign of bad faith in safe and dry land
mutually affordable re-assurance.

Oppression
is aggressive repression
without freedom to exit

And ego repression
is eco-systemic depression
without mutual freedom to catch and re-catch compassion
with and for each faithful interdependent Other,
sentient and sensed as a safe alliance
for absorbing resonance

And practicing mutual reliance,
practicing re-alliance,
practicing integrity of positive contagious co-passions.

Negative depressions stem from lonely longing
origins internal and external,
As positive impressions
grow from practiced compassion,
Solidarity belonging and bred
within eco-cooperative fed
root nutritional systems,

Fitness energy for actively appreciating
each wounded and wounding Other,
including hims
and hers,
transparently discussing fist-vulnerable hands
and heads,
and stomping, kicking feet,
and bad-news phones
and unreliable cars
and imprisoning homes
and patriarchal supremacists

As if all lives
and interdependent relationships
mattered
for continuing depressive competitions
and for altering impressive cooperations.

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Advent Funerals with Birthdays

The coincidence of Advent
and the HW Bush eulogies
reminded me of DJ Trump’s challenge
to laugh about himself
at least as quickly as he laughs against others.

As compared to any recent US President,
he comes in dead last
for his appropriate humility,
willingness to sacredly listen, empathize with generosity,
and least place for his ability to nurture resilient international peace,
and I am not sure these two challenges
are merely side-by-side coincidental.

Other challenges seem to come with the Yangish motivation required to even become a credible candidate.

Presidential candidates
at least since the Civil War,
if not the Revolutionary War,
are not generally known for saintly sacred listening
to and for healthy multicultural developments,
domestic or foreign,
domestic and yet foreign
to those unschooled in WinWin health-power whisperings,

Noticing positive deviance
advocated and praised and blessed first well-humored,
before negative pedestrian bullying rat races continue
with all paranoid Win/Lose stripes
madly pursued by monoculturing manic political stars.

This Advent day of HW Bush eulogies
was also my oppositionally defiant daughter’s seventeenth birthday.
When I asked her for an allegorical meaning
for the Sleeping Beauty fable
she dismissed the story
as another patriarchal humorless female Messianic staple
for achieving EarthJustice happily ever after
by mere kiss of Prince Charming
after she had done all the heavy emotional lifting
required to rebuild sacred communion
with resilient good humor.

But, she is more interested in discussing Robin Hood
and Little Red Riding Hood,
all the potential messianic Hood leaders
who know predative patriarchal wolves when they see
and hear
and smell them,
even in hooded disguise,
transparently lying on their own grandmother’s bed
and Bibles
and thrones,
about being more committed to democratic good-humored healthy constitutions
advocates for sharing communion with all
before defending their own ego-centric hindquarters.

My fetal alcoholic seventeen year old daughter
knows wolves when she hears them
in government threatening humorless voices
or more entertainingly violent industrial corruption predators.

Feminist Hoods can themselves taste wolf hunger
for royal hunting and riding
and devouring innocent WinWin democratic youth,
separating them from their naive healthy multiculturing forests,
composed by
and for
and of naturally diverse and good-humored habitats.

She can smell satiated predators
growing hungry for vulnerable healthy integrity
stealing back fleeting power from Win/Lose playing wolves
by investing economic and political trust
in those still living natural-humored life
as a normal spiritually connecting re-investment.

Hooded egos still know this spiritually enchanted forest life
as a naturally reconnecting hope
for healthy happier,
more co-redemptive,
EarthJustice futures.

And so the eulogies
and my daughter’s exegetical birthday party progressed
through Cinderella’s king and queendom
at healthier humored EarthJustice hand
after marrying her Prince of Adventuring Revolutionary Peace.

On through the Three Little Pigs
enjoying shared wolf-soup communion
with all EarthTribe’s piglets and cubs,
dolls and stuffed bears
communioned while sitting down grace-fully together.

She hears this same polypathic humored journey
in every diversely sacred narrative
she leads and listens,
smells and tastes and feels
hope for Earth’s wealth
of future everyday health
for democratic constitutions,
disability stories,
eulogies inviting salvific humor.

This coincidence of birthday and funeral
reminds me of our sacred challenges
to laugh communally among ourselves
more than jeering a viral twittering weapon
against the vulnerabilities of others.

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Sex EcoEquity

Sexual intercourse would feel as odd and unwelcome as the prospect seemed to me when I was ten. Perhaps this second  virginity is equivalent to what has been permaculturally recognized as the sublimation intrinsic to an authentic celibate vocation. Perhaps there is something in here of relevance to  neo-monastic cultural development and the emergence of deep ecological balance.

As my natural immune system unravels, so does my sex drive. Rather than grasping desire, I increasingly feel vulnerable to everyone. This vulnerability is not just a “mind fuck” mentality but a holistic intercourse of curiosity and acceptance, growing compassion and improved comprehension and communication; greater mindfulness of “right” relationship as balanced loving relationships. Balance, in relationship with others, with my environment, is what increases confluent attraction across all sensory spectra.

Learning to accept our mutually equal subsidiarity, vulnerability, recasts earlier normative responses to total strangers, other species, plant life, Earth, as autistic–overly concerned with protecting my ego-immunity, self-identity as Self, rather than an equally individuated member of Earth’s Regenerative Tribe. I grow grateful for this emotive and affective and effective justice and mercy, in turn growing slowly toward our (0)-sum balanced economy of grace (Western term) or karma (Eastern term).

Positive holistic sensual information receptors bring to Positive Psychology, Ecology, Economic, and Teleological Theory what autistically unraveled monocultural chaos brings to Cognitive Dissonance and Commodification Theory of ecological loss and disvalue.

Perhaps it is the normative cultural commodification of sexuality as a substitute for building slower bridges of holistic communication and sensuality that has contributed so loudly and invasively to our overpopulation, climate chaos, abrasively stinky air, and distress about anomalous gender expression.

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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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Torch Song Eulogy

I have given up on us

because you gave up on us

before I ever came along.

 

You saw in me some hope

that maybe you were wrong

perhaps the human race could be redeemed

if just one

would take the time

to notice and care

that you are.

 

But I was not that one for you,

the one to see wealth

where you have it

rather than long to be fed

what is not yours to provide.

 

It breaks my heart to know

that I can’t fix yours.

I step into your absent space

and here I am without you

where I can only see you

as my fixer-upper.

 

I am afraid to be your only love

it feels too much to ask of me

to love you when you’ve never loved another.

Can you tell me why

you never cry

when I try to hurt you?

Can you tell me why you only cry

when I tell you that I want you?

 

But I can’t find you.

I had given up on me

before you ever came along.

 

I saw in you my last dark hope

that I could share myself

without running out

until our dying day.

We would never end

telling stories of now,

and then,

and why we never want this one to end.

We would look outside

in each other’s eyes

and see inside

through each other’s eyes.

It’s those parts under your skin

your mind

your heart

too weak for faith that I might care

and know you as you are.

 

And yet, you hope,

it lingers there,

ringed finger glow reflects,

where we grow hope

that’s positive;

so water it.

 

Rich warm compost hope emerges

from and for lost faith that love could be for us

to share

and from such diverse synergy

grow love for all who come to wear

our radiant worn-out rug.

 

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