BRIDGED BY THE INVISIBLE

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(POEM FOR BARBARA)

We have walked on different paths,

And laid claim to different priorities.

Still, lingering in some of the same

Spots along the path to see the views

We caught glimpse of similar lookouts.

Sometimes, I was there in winter, while

You visited the spot summer or fall.

The scent of betrayals of our bodies

And along the borderlands of time

From those whose life stretched

To the breaking point of truth

Sheds stories–some we live with

And some we learn from.

There is in all of this

An invisible flight of wings

Touching the sky circling

And flying down to earth

To home again where we meet

On two sides of a bridge–

One recognizing the other

Bridged by the invisible.

Happy Belated Birthday

©Roseroberta

A BIRTHDAY HAPPENING 7/9/2015

I had an interesting experience this week. I don’t like statistics and their loopholes, so I don’t trust most of them. I put up a meme that happened to have a bunch of numbers in it, which I thought was the other side of a story and had some interesting points to it. I did it because I’m tired of polarized thinking and, even though I am liberal, I like to look at a lot of sides to things. The next thing I knew, I had someone, who later I found out from a friend was a radical from the 60s, jumping all over me. I had intentionally asked him to IM me with his opinions and what he viewed was wrong with the article. I was sincerely trying to learn from him, and even though he knew it was my Bday and I asked to talk with him the next day he pounced. I thought I was dealing with a kid from his belligerent attitude. Any attempt of mine to get some information from him he twisted into something to use for his attack. One of his moments he said to me, “Why don’t you admit you are a bigot.” In the end, I sent him an article I wrote which you can find here and on my Power of Metaphor Page called ‘Talkin Bout Differences.’ I tried to tell him how hateful his whole manner had been to someone who was sincerely trying to learn something from him. He said something to the effect that the only people I hate are those who try to take advantage of poor people, which is far from anything which I am known to be interested in. I told him how he had just taken advantage of someone who had been really sincere with him, and why was his version of hating and discrimination towards people any better? He didn’t get it.

Considering that I post memes on Facebook at least one hundred times a week with a portion being my own writing, one could think that I would occasionally post something that is not correct. I once saw someone who had a weekly radio show, think that an onion article was true, and people dumped all over him who knew him. When I posted about the psychology of tattooing as a present trend and what it might mean, people who knew me got angry because they had tats, as if I was telling them they shouldn’t have tattoos, which I had never said or even thought. Where did my freedom of speech come into their thinking or trying to understand the present times?

I have had all kinds of things happen on FB. I have often thought that I might start a page where I posed as a person of color and another where I posed as someone Asian just to see what people’s reactions are like, when they don’t think I am white. It’s interesting what goes on there, and not so interesting to see people becoming what they fight against, and being clueless about it. 

***Written in response to a Facebook friend’s status update about communication these days.  We both agreed after that if you are a writer, there are going to be people who don’t agree with you.

TALKIN BOUT DIFFERENCES

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“There were lynching in the sixties,” she said to me.  I had to forgive her on the grounds of youth.  After all, she was half my age.  In her mind, there was a nothin’s changed attitude with cycles of ups and downs in the economy, political ideologies and social interactions always swinging like the pendulum on a clock, but in my mind there was too much missing context in her thinking.

Following her line of thinking, it was easy to rewrite history.  You could take the surface data, and match them up side by side–the 60’s and this year’s racist displays– and to an extent I’d have to agree with her, though I knew how misguided she was.  I had woken up to the understanding she was refusing to succumb to, and started to think it through more. The words Climate Change came to me in a new way.

We think of climate change as related to the environment, but what about our social environment?  And that is the key.  The social milieu of the sixties was one that welcomed change.  The present social environment is one that wants to cling to centuries of old ideas, even if they have become stodgy and no longer fit the times or the needs of the people.  It is a ‘retro’ mentality at not its finest hour, but at its most rigid and antiquated, even if the profit only goes to those whose pockets are already stuffed with bills.  People don’t like admitting when they’re bamboozled.  As a result, you have an adult culture trying to cling to old ways as if they will be saved by them.  Meanwhile, those holding the purse strings redefine core values into something they were never meant to be with a bait and switch attitude keeping people in a survival mode, while they take the money and the jobs away from the people of this country, unless you are one of the ones allocated to play their game.

In the sixties, you had a culture that produced jobs. My first stabs at looking for employment in the New York Times on Sunday was sifting through four inches deep of newsprint pages.  I’d mark off on Sunday more jobs than I would ever call, and by Monday evening I would have four courses of Interviews per day.  Employers called you back to let you know if you hadn’t made the grade, but of course there was enough staff at companies in those days—even walking into a place like Target, there were employees at every section ready to help you.  You didn’t have to scout them out.  You didn’t have to press one for God, two for his assistants and three for the dark side, when you called a business (let alone for anything medical). In an atmosphere like that, you found a job in two weeks if you had any skills, and often you would be trained on the job and promoted from within–manufacturing jobs had not been hijacked overseas. 

Feminism arose to the call of equal pay and equal rights in that abundant atmosphere.  Walking down the streets of Manhattan past construction sites, cat calls changed to seeing women in hard hats, even if they were in the minority.  Still you had an economy, which could support a woman staying home to raise her children, and heck she could always go back to school afterwards without being in debt for the rest of her life, and start a new career while the kids were in school.  You had a generation of freed thinkers who did not want to sit and just be couch potatoes.  Archie Bunker was alive and well, if you wanted to strum the boob tube.  People were exploring their inner being not just what would put money in their wallets.  Meditation became a known word.  Going to India and visiting other countries was high on the agenda list of many–making international friends awesome.

In that kind of burgeoning environment, the Civil Rights Movement grew. But when the shots rang out that killed the Kennedys, King and Sadat fear resonated in people’s hearts the sacrifices entailed by the voices of freedom.  It moved like a shock wave through the nation.  Hippies became yuppies, job jumping and who gave the best benefits replaced hanging on to things, which one needed to give loyalty to.  The divorce rate soared.  The bedrock of a culture of experiment with change was closing in on itself, and those who wanted the power back in their hands took advantage of the times, which  sought for the nirvana of an environment of trust and harmony.  Slowly like a cancer those who never wanted to see anything like another Vietnam protest movement again, ruptured trust’s membrane and catapulted society down the garden path with a politically correct need for survival, as an aftermath doing nothing but pleasing the stockholders..

As a result of all of this, we have fallen to our knees in the face of the new demigod of Corporate Personhood, or is it parenthood.  Parenthood of the kind that abuses its children. The present killing of blacks, burning of churches and even lynching laid down in this retro environment, which does not want to let go of outdated modalities and fears intersecting, even if it drowns out this countries chances of survival, is not the climate of the sixties with its people ready to join hands.  It is the old guard rising up in revenge and fear of annihilation amidst a populace becoming more and more deprived. 

Unfortunately, these corporate giants are negligent in the recognition that what they are trying to hold fast to will bring down a worse annihilation than the one they are attempting to avoid.  This time it will not be the dismantling of a Czar, or Imperial Family, or slave owners, it is the very foundation of this planet and her gifts, which is at stake, and only unity can overwhelm the abusive forms of corporate parenthood willing to rape and pillage her body.   

©Roseroberta

A Genuine Hermit in the Woods.

This is an amazing story, and I am not going to be a bad usher.  I will just say this that the Hermit is an archetype and a very powerful image.

http://www.gq.com/story/the-last-true-hermit?src=longreads

SMALL MURDERS

The unironed arguments

Left to strangle themselves

Hanging in Time—Incomplete

While we either pretend

“It never happened,” or

We grind it out with some

New unfaltered with being, but

Each time the pressure builds,

As it is in my country, and

On this planet with our

Deep incisions into the earth,

And our need for conquest

Framing all that we see, but

Don’t see with our gaze

Partitioning into a small corner

The need to

LOVE.

Reflection:  I’m not good with ultimatums anymore, I found, though I did not know.  I question.  I try to understand, but I’m not good with ultimatums anymore.

Notes from Seeing the Dalai Lama 3/2/2014

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It seems that for the Dalai Lama today is the beginning of the Tibetan New Year which he usually spends at home in India, but chose to be here in Mpls.  These are my notes from the event at Macalester … Continue reading

A Different Kind of Anarchy

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(This was part of a class assignment) I dream that we have taken some sacred turn to a place where we could feel how connected we are one to another and be present and still and willing to listen with … Continue reading