Category: Philosophy

Empowerment.

The big, new-century term. I hate it.

Almost as much as i hate that last century throwback, political correctness.

Two ideas that both disable and imprison people. IMO.

Ideas like these are what make us like our pet dogs: in a perpetual state of puppy hood… needing to be fed, cared for, and looked after throughout our lives.

It’s time to toughen up. And it all starts with the way we think:::::: about ourselves.  

Phase in.  Phase out.  Out of Phaze.

Phase shift.  

Some people shift paradigms.  I shift points of view.  Sometimes I have felt forced to do so.  Sometimes I choose to do so intentionally.  Sometimes I have taken a chance at shifting willingly.

I’ve come to the fork in the road, so to speak.  (Insert Slauson Cutoff joke here)  Do I step on the transporter or not?  Do I scatter my atoms across the universe?

Mitosis?  Cytokinesis?  Meiosis?  

Will these metaphors never cease?

we bounce around like free radicals

in our flesh, bones, and blood world

Lately there have been a lot of people pissed of at Bill Clinton for one reason or another.  Some think they have good reason.  Some think attacking Bill Clinton is good politics.  I have a hard time believing that most people really believe what they are saying.  Not deep down.  At least I hope not.

But people have different experiences than I have had…and many are much younger than me…and hardly anyone else here lived in Arkansas when I did…and most of those probably didn’t meet Bill and/or Hillary as many times as I did…and I’m completely certain that none of the people who did those other things began gender reassignment during the Clinton campaign in 1992.

My vision of the era is tinted by the fact that I came out to the world, beginning my transition in September of 1992, precisely because I persuaded myself that Bill Clinton was going to win the election, that Bill and Hillary were going to be in the White House and I could do so with a lessened fear of being fired from my job, thrown out of my house and/or murdered.  

Of course, I lived in Arkansas so I had a different viewpoint than a lot of folks…people who were not standing in the freezing rain at the Capitol Building in Little Rock singing along to “Yesterday’s Gone” and crying in joy about newfound freedom to be oneself.  I made one of my first public appearances as the new me as one of the crowd on election night.

Bill Clinton was the Barack Obama/John Edwards of that instant in time.  He was hope for a better future.  He was…and is…a hero to many people.

Some light streams in through the cracks between the blinds that cover my sliding balcony door.  The Winco is a 24-hour store, and the soft yellow lights of the parking lot mesmerize me at times.  I like the way the puddles catch the reflections, and send them off at odd angles on their way back up.  I’ve lost a couple hours watching this more than once…with a beer, sitting out on the balcony.  Every once in a while an occassional tire, shopping cart or shoe passes through those puddles and adds even more variables to the equation as I look on from my 2nd story vantage point, roughly 12 feet up and 10 yards out.

It’s 3:25 AM on a random weekday morning as I type this ‘intro’…and I find myself wide awake as usual at this time.  I’ve got work in a few hours, but if I can’t sleep anyway I might as well do something productive with the time.  I enjoy the night…the silence, and the lights off…I even see better this way.

Did I ever mention that I have a small collection of kaleidoscopes?  I used to have more of them, but currently have three, I think.  Along the path of my life, others have been lost or discarded, I guess.  I have never put much value in stuff and each time I have moved, some of it has gone away.

I also have different lenses through which I view life.  I’ve not discarded any of those, even if I may forget some of them from time to time.

For the past week, I’ve remembered a lens from the past which intersects with my critical thinking lens.  It’s all about fair play, about having a level playing field.  I don’t expect that many people will view the world through those same lenses.

So I may be speaking to the wind.  That seems to be happening more often lately.  But I don’t believe it is pointless.  I believe the wind sometimes listens.

A new year can open new possibilities.  It can also provide impulse to past fears.

Some of you may know what’s been going on the past few days.  

At the end of September my sister wrote me a comment:

I am just thinking now that you could contact a publisher in Corvallis that I know that historically publishes women’s literature.  The publisher’s name is Margarita Donnelly, and the magazine publication is Calyx. For what it’s worth.

I’ve got to say that my initial thought was that she was insane.  Check that.  She’s sane.  I’m the insane one.

I was already familiar with Calyx.  I had grave doubts about belonging among the women they have published.  I still do.  Ursula LeGuin…Paula Gunn Allen…Barbara Kingsolver…and me?  Give me a break.

It’s not about a class war. Or Iraq. Or terrorism. It’s not even healthcare or New Orleans or the next Katrina-like disaster. It’s not collapsing bridges or trapped miners. Not abortion or gay marriage, civil rights or liberties. Tax cuts for the rich and what’s left in the treasury going to Halliburton? No, not that either. Predatory lending and sub prime markets crashing? Loss of income? Fear of job loss? Loss of worker safety protections? No no no no no no no….

It’s simply this: Our governmental infrastructure is broken… it’s dysfunctional. Further, the government of the United States of America has turned its back on its citizens. Hey. I have a novel idea. How about stopping those causing the dysfunction? Yeah. Like an intervention called IMPEACHMENT. We must demand Congress does its job and uphold the Constitution. Restore our freedoms and Constitutional rights damn it! Start with, first and foremost, enforcing separation of church and state and creating an earthquake-proof secular government. Then let’s get rid of thought crimes straight away. And torture and spying on US Citizens.

Because really, I’m thinking a government that condones spying on its citizens and dismantling due process as it outsources military, education, medicare et al is a government of men and women not interested in health care or education or the military. They are interested in controlling us and giving all those private contracts to their buddies. Cha Ching. We need our equilibrium back. We need to restore our country by rebuilding our governmental infrastructure. Forget 2008. If we want health care and collapsing bridges repaired, then we have to find people to send to Congress who will start the hard work of restoring the functionality of the United States government.

The thing I’m continually learning is so simple: I define my life. I stand up or down. I say yes or no. I fight, go along, or give up. It comes down to just me.

The way I see it, this blip in time is mine.  But not for much longer, as I can imagine a time when humans, as we are now, probably won’t exist. The upside is that I’m sure some other type of earthling will evolve. Will they love van Gogh and Bach though? I don’t know.

I like to think these new earthlings will be as awestruck by star dust and sunlight as I…  that they will try to figure out a way to describe the thud and splat of raindrops and the whisper of wind through tall grass… that they’ll fall in love and have their own dance. I’ve stopped being sad that it won’t be mine in a million years from now.

However. That’s then. This is now and I’ve got my dance card. I can’t help it if George Bush is on it.  But fuck him.  

What happens if you let your mind flow?  What words don’t get written or spoken if you do?

Life is often about the words not written, about what a person chooses not to say.  Or maybe rather it might be about the words one has no time to say.

There is also a lot of meaning in the moments between the words.  But how does one capture it?  Certainly not with words.  

Sometimes there are images.  But even as the images are being created, there is a chatter.  Forever something is begging me for attention.  I imagine they are thoughts.  Given the world I was raised in, they are probably contending to be given voice rather than cooperating efficiently.  A jumble of ideas struggling to interact, analog in a digital age.

This apartment is too clean, too sterile.  Like it hasn’t been lived in enough, or at all for that matter…

De reir a cheile a thogtar na caisleain.

It takes time to build castles.

There are definitely some signs of life here, though…and in one case, remnants of a life.  I saved the orange “funeral” placard that was on my front window during the procession that brought my best friend from the wake to his final resting place, a little fenced-in Catholic cemetary in Union County, New Jersey.  Lots of trees, lots of green.  Lots of places to sit and think.  It’s best at night…the stars make no noise.  A respite from the nastiness of the world.

I spent most of my last day in New Jersey there. I sat there, and I thought about…

… Do not stand at my grave and cry-

I am not there… I did not die…

Okay, so we’ll leave there then, man.  We’ll go back to my place again, okay?

Let’s dig much deeper…