Friday, June 24, 2016

we are human, we are love

"Pulse" -- Melissa Etheridge you can hear it on soundcloud

Everybody's got a pain inside
Imaginary wounds they fight to hide
How can I hate them
When everybody's got a pulse

I dream in a world that wants my soul
That tells me if I hate I can control
But I don't believe it
I cannot conceive it
Because everybody's got a pulse

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats with my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse

Once again I hang my head to cry
I can't find the reason why they died
We will find the answer
Blowing in the wind
That everybody's got a pulse

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats with my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse

Who you gonna hate now
When there's no one left but you
Who you gonna gun down
If you can't kill the truth
That's inside of us
It's inside the blood
It's inside a pulse

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats in my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse
(Everybody's got a pulse)

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats in my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats in my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse

I am human, I am love
And my heart beats in my blood
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse
Everybody's got a pulse
Everybody hands up if you're alive
Hands up if you're alive
Love will always win
Underneath the skin
Everybody's got a pulse

maintain the bridge

--> He that cannot forgive others
 breaks the bridge over
which he must pass himself;
 for every man has need
to be forgiven.
--Thomas Fuller

fresh figs are here, as are rainier cherries

And what about rainier cherries, also in full season right now? It's hard out here for a type one diabetic.

I saw a cherry called 'strawberry cherries' at Whole Foods. Hold your horses, I do not shop at Whole Foods for my groceries but whenever I go to the hospital one block from a Whole Foods, fasting for the blood tests, I go into WF and buy something to eat, to end the fast.

I was at a country house party, something right out of a Jane Austen novel, last Sat and missed my farmers market so no cherries for me so its been a slow fresh produce week for me.  Yes, there are stores that sell good produce and yes there are other farmers markets but I am a creature of habit. WF had no organic cherries, which was okay because you pay top price for anything at WF. (figs are special, price no object). I asked a produce person if there were any organic cherries in WF today, she was a woman about my age, which surprised me. One does not often see sixty-something women stacking peaches in a grocery store. . . She looked all over before she said 'no organic ones but did you see these Strawberry cherries? Theyare a new hybrid and they are delicious. Here, try one." It was delicious but not organic and I am jonesing for rainier cherries. And very high priced.

But I had to buy some organic figs, for they were the first I had seen this year (I did miss the market last week, I bet they were available last week!). It's not like Berkeley farmers markets are more affordable than WF. If anything, I believe the BErkeley farmers markets charge more than WF but the SAt market is two blocks from where I live and I don't own a car. I do get into stores. We have some amazingly awesome grocery stores in this part of the world.

I only had fresh figs once in the Midwest. At a small summer picnic at a friend's cottage in MI, near Ann Arbor where I lived two years post grad school, two young women being mentored by my friend brought all the food and prepped it. They were really feting their mentor, a legend in the field of organization development but they couldn't say "this is for Kathie and us, not for you" so I got to eat their fab food. They had planned an elaborate meal with several courses, all using the grill and the dessert was fresh figs lightly grilled and them fresh clotted cream lightly drizzled on them: fabulosa.

I have met several fruits on the w. coast that I rarely, if ever, saw in the upper midwest. Do they sell persimmons in MN? I never saw a fresh persimmon until I moved here. Lots of Japanese people settled here and the japanese love their persimmons so they are abundantly available from around August through Jan. My bro visited me and CA for the first time in Jan and he loved persimmons and had never seen or eaten one before. It was the very tail end of persimmon season so the ones we could buy were a little worse for wear but he gobbled up as many as I could find.

like Brexit voters, I'm angry

let yourself be angry, Bernie. Acknowledge that the Brexit vote is about anger, anger over years of austerity measures undertaken to give more to the already rich. The people have plenty of reasons to be angry. Let us be angry. I sure am.

My take on the Brexit vote: Britain's politicians have been practicing austerity, wiping out the same kind of social programs our loonie tunes politicians have been doing their best to eliminate while continuing to give the very rich more tax cuts and give corporations more tax breaks. We cut back on food stamps, which is food for hungry humans, so we can give the rich more tax cuts. Our cities only rep the rich and often rich speculators who don't live where they plan to reap many millions in profit. Rep us, not nonresident rich folks. I'm angry and I wish Bernie showed his anger. We humans can be angry politely. Anger is just an emotion, not a threat.

I believe ordinary, not-rich people everywhere are fed up with politicians governing solely for the rich and fed up with their bullshit austerity. In our Congress, every new tax to help humans has to be offset by cutting something in the budget, while, the whole time, the clowns running around wildly in their Congressional clown car are racing to give give give to the rich and to corps.

I think the Brexit vote reflects populist anger that is alive all over the planet. I think this populist anger explains why some vote for Trump.
And I don't think Bernie's comments, in the clip I am going to post here go far enough. He says "I think this says the economy is not working for most people". While I welcome his equanimity, I wish he had spoken of the populist anger behind the Brexit vote and the rising populist anger and sense of impotence in this country.

Some voters lean towards crazy, racist Trump and some voters lean towards Bernie's heroic call for real and progressive change.

sometimes anger is not just okay but healthy. I first had some therapy with a PhD marriage counselor/psychologist. When we gave up on that marriage counseling, I continued on in individual therapy. That doctor had to work with me a long time to help me even recognize that I was angry. He started out saying that most mental health professionals believe depression is unacknowledged and unexpressed anger. As soon as I heard that theory, I thought it made sense but my response was to say "Yeah, that makes sense but I'm not angry."

Another thing that doctor, who I still dearly love, said to me as he worked so valiantly to help me see that I was very, very angry over the physical and emotional abuse I suffered for years.

I never would have gotten well enough to leave that husband if I had not first accessed my anger.

Maybe this is too big a leap in reasoning but I think millions of Americans are mad and depressed. Bernie has awakened some of us. Trump has, rather deftly, imho, tapped anger to tape votes but he is bringing out anger in a dangerous way. And I think Bernie might be trying to, wisely, perhaps, avoid directly tapping anger by being positive and offering solutions that this country can actually afford to do if we just realign our economic priorities and stop giving the rich free reign and squeezing profit and capital out of the low paid wages of the non-rich and depressed.

That long ago doctor told me this, too: "There is nothing wrong with anger. It is simply one of the human emotions. People sometimes express their anger in unproductive ways, ways that intimidate and/or frighten others but anger expressed calmly is right, healthy and a good thing."

Well, I'm angry about the way this country's politicians and its rich are controlling the resources of our shared commons. Our shared commons is our land and all its bounty, and the whole earth is the human commons. I'm angry that rich, well connected insiders are allowed to rape our planet with fracking, chemicals polluting our drinking water and air, the rich getting richer and the workers getting schtupped with low wages, unaffordable access to health care and education.

I'm angry. I can be politely anger, although I know many humans simply hear a person say "I am angry" and then instantly project their own misinterpretations and don't really note that simply voicing anger is not a threat. It is not different from saying "I am happy" or "I am sad".

But we have to be able to acknowledge we are angry.

And we need our next president to understand we are angry and change, meaningful change to the status quo, has to come.

Hillary has been shameful, imho, in the callous way she dismisses Bernie supporters, Bernie's positions which are what attracted his millions of supporters. I am angry that such a corrupt woman might become the first female president, casting a shadow on all women as being cut from the nasty cloth Hillary came from.

I'm mad as hell and I wish Bernie would politely talk about the people's anger. He does not go far enough when he says "I think this Brexit vote means the economy is not working for many." Acknowledge that the masses are angry, that the anger is justified and the anger must be respected.

I'm angry. Here's Bernie speaking in a somewhat milquetoast-y way. Acknowledge our anger, Bernie.

I will dance by Paul Winkelaar

There will be those who say "if only the victims had guns, they could have protected themselves."

They were dancing. Full of joy and happiness and love.

And we should live like that. We should not be asked to carry guns with us. We should not have to. Because we are gay. Or Muslim. Or Christian. Or teachers. Or college students. Or politicians. Or women. Or black. Or prochoice. Or because we disagree. Or because we are different. Or children.

NO.  I won't carry a gun.

I will dance.

~~ Paul Winkelaar


birds gotta fly, writers gotta write©

©fish gotta swim
birds gotta fly
I'm gonna be writing
'til the day I die
I'll also be loving
my man til then
Can't stop writing
Can't stop loving 
Can't stop loving
not ever
my daughter either

when will I be loved back?
people gotta have love
everyone, it seems, but me

Thursday, June 23, 2016

a cracker in a Wisconsin wood

My first car was, when I bought it for $300, a then-antique blue VW Bug. I called her Helen after Helen Hayes in the Love Bug movies. I loved Helen even tho the floor under one of the back seats was totally rusted to the outside, with a board over the hole. I knew Helen's days were numbered but I just had to own a VW Bug once in my life.

On my drive from Chicago to Minneapolis for law school, I had car trouble in no-where Wisconsin. A state trooper helped me get my car to a very remote, rural car repair place run by such a strange man. I believe the trooper chose the car repair place solely because it was right where my car broke down. It did not appear to be a thriving business. He fixed my car quickly but as he worked, he chatted me up. When I said I was from Chicago, he said "I should go to Chicago, find me a new woman, this one I got now," and he jerked his head towards the trailer where he lived with some unfortunate woman, and he went on "This one I got now aint no good no more, gotta get me a new, young one." Only he said 'young'un' and spit some of his chew out as he said it, as if he wanted to emphasize his contempt for the unfortunate woman. I vaguely suspected he thought he was flirting with me and had no idea I found him repugnant.

The woman inside the old, shabby trailer kept peeking out behind curtains, rustling a bit, so I knew she was not only there but heard what her man said to me about her.

I felt safe because that state trooper had delivered me to that strange, tobacco chewing and spitting man. I guess pig would be a more appropriate way to refer to him. A part of me kept expecting to hear twangy banjo music and see a gaggle of creepy neanderthals, or cross-eyed children with six fingers on one hand,  appear from the surrounding woods.

I had an impulse to invite the woman cowering in the trailer to get in and drive away with me but I was afraid to say it.  I kept thinking "I am just imagining how weird this man is" and "He can't be violent, the state trooper wouldn't have left me here if he were". And I also thought "Maybe he buries his victims behind the trailer, in them there woods and no one has figured out he is a serial killer." And, finally, "How long until you are done?" That question I said aloud. He did the repair immediately. He obviously had no other business and was very eager to earn some money. He charged me very little. He was probably just a poorly educated, damaged man. It was that line about getting a good woman down Chicago-way, which is how he said Chicago, tipping me that he had probably never been to Chicago. I almost suggested that Milwaukee or Madison might be closer to find a new good woman but my saner self kept all my thoughts to myself.

I also had an impulse, which I also successfully suppressed, to express my revulsion for the man. It was like a scene out of the early part of the movie 'Deliverance'.

I drove from Minneapolis to Chicago and back a few times every year for the next twenty years or so, on the same interstate that gently banks through the soft rolling hills of Western Wisconsin. I loved that drive. For many years, I always took note when I was near where I had that car repair. I sometimes thought I pull off the interstate and drive along the frontage road to see if the trailer wass still there but I never did that.

That guy had no garage. Just that trailer and some tools, so he was not set up as a repair shop with a lift to work on the undercarriage of a car.

I sometimes had hopeful thoughts about the woman in that trailer, peeking at me behind her curtains, trying to convince myself she was happy.

Neither of those people were happy. That semi-toothless, chewing tobacco spitting man was never going to Chicago-way and was never gonna get a better woman than the one over in the run down trailer.

That trailer wasn't even properly mounted. Its tires had been removed and it was just plopped on the ground. It must have had running water, for I saw no outhouse.  I had spent my college years in Wisconsin but that trailer was my first glimipse of poverty in WI. My first up close glimpse of poverty in America, even though I grew up in Chicago. I did not know poor people growing up, although Chicago had its share of them.

I spent a lot of time abroad as an undergrad, living in Mexico, then Colombia, then Spain.  I saw the most poverty in Colombia. As near as I, and the other American students in my program could tell, Colombia offered no social support for the poor, disabled and elderly.

So I had seen lots of poverty up close during the year I lived in Bogotá, and I met that car repair trailer living man post-Colombia. That car repair trailer man seemed more impoverished, of mind, soul, heart and money, than the hordes of beggars I saw daily in Bogotá.  He was so creepy.

I keep hearing that jangling banjo music from the beginning of the movie Deliverance.Creepy.

Monday, June 20, 2016

clearing you out for some new delight

The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
~ Rumi, translation by poet Coleman Barks

Friday, June 17, 2016

Thursday, June 09, 2016

nothing here

write a comment, which will not be published, and ask for access to my new blog. My name is not on the new one so no one who knows me is likely to find it by my name. Ask.  Or do not. You get to be you.

Wednesday, June 08, 2016

any beauty or love you see is you

"Whatever beauty you see here and there is only a projection of your own being. Whenever you felt a sense of great beauty, that is when you are in touch with yourself, because you are so, so beautiful. That is why something else in the world also look beautiful to you. You get a glimpse of self; a little shower from this glimpse comes to you." Sri Sri Ravi Shankar