White Flag

As you may gauge – given the chasm of time since I last posted anything – I don’t write much anymore.  In fact, beyond working (part-time), reading and ‘making’ things, I don’t do much of anything anymore.  For me and mine, life has settled into a tightly-curled huddle infused by a thick layer of horrified incredulity.  But even that is running out of fuel.  Being constantly appalled by an inexhaustive supply of human atrocity is kinda like being repeatedly slapped in the face.  After a while, the flinch dies because the senses have dulled and the skin is numb.  In other words, something in you breaks.

Well, I broke.  I tried every positive, uplifting thing I could think of to drag myself up; optimism, meditation, prayer, volunteerism, intelligence, understanding, forgiveness, rationalism, resilience.  Be the change.  Live by example.  Repeatedly.  Not anymore.  The sides of the pit are too steep and there are too many people lobbing not-really-helpful crap down the hole. (Given I live in what has become the land of White, Right & Tight that’s about all anyone is willing to contribute to another human being here.  And even that tends to have a price tag.)  Between family, friends, acquaintances, and people I don’t even know, it became too much.

Somewhere inside I still believe in the things I believed in before the ground gave way; the validity of truth, compassion, kindness, open-heartedness, and open-mindedness.  But I watched these things starve and wither until what remained were hollow, unobtainable, outdated ideals and, sadly, it stopped hurting.  Now, it just is.

I guess on some level this anesthetization should have frightened me, galvanized me – something…

It didn’t.  It settled around my shoulders like weighted inevitability.  Too heavy to shrug off and in some strange way, oddly comforting.  Because it verified the birth prangs of the misanthrope struggling to be born inside me.  (The labor was lengthy and gory, but I had a ton of help so the babe is thriving.  Thanks for asking.)   And that, my tribe, has given ground to something vastly more worrisome than apathy.  It has put a tap on my rage and opened it wide.

Why you may ask?  Why has the “One-Tribe” believer turned so deeply dark?  Simple.  Because we are One Tribe and this is where we go.  Always.  No matter where we set out from, what plan or route we have in mind, this is where we go.  Every-fucking-time.  This, people, is the fruition of us.  Human beings being anything but humane. 

History bears this out.  Time and time again, we wind up here.  In the land of “Us! Us! Us!   With the rotting fear of “Other” seething in our lizard-brains eventually eating its way towards our faces where else could we go?  Weak, terrified critters that we are, it’s so much easier to look outward for what pollutes than it is to face the self.  It’s easier to allow our stupidities and insecurities to fester until they overwhelm the system and erupt in corrupt pustules on our underutilized brains than it is to fight our way towards being something other than animal.

And it’s not enough that we poison our own lives.  We must find ways to spread the disease.  In short, we are infectious.  We pass our shit around like microbes in a pit toilet.  Making sure in subtle and not so subtle ways to smear our toxins on those who pass by us.  Because we’re too cowardly to stand alone.  (God forbid!  How ever could we defend the ‘rightness’ of attacking the ‘other’ if we’re the only warrior!?)  We need an ‘Us’ to sink into, a tribe to scream safely from the midst of, a protective horde to attack from the middle of.   

Fortunately, it’s not too difficult to locate solitary members of our detestable clan of ‘right-minded folks’.  When alone, we’re like tomcats spraying door jams with an odiferous message of supremacy and ownership.  We lean over and mutter hate out of the corner of our mouth.  Or lift our eyebrows when the wrong ideology walks into our gym or grocery store.  Or purse our lips when we hear an accent on the other end of the phone.  In a solitary state, we leave little trails of stink to hang almost invisible in the air waiting for the right nose to inhale them.

And – boom – we now have a comrade in arms.  They, too, mutter out of the side of their face.  They, too, lift their eyebrows.  They, too, purse their lips.  Validator!  Friend!  Battle-buddy!  Us!  Let’s unwrap our prejudices and ignorance and strap them across our breasts like banners proclaiming our vile disease and goose-step this army of half-brained, zombie minions off to create a world better suited to reflect our ‘Us-ness’!

And so it goes…
Over and over again…
Throughout human history…
Forever and ever.  Amen.

So, now you can see why I have stopped writing.  Blogs, short-stories, novels, poems, emails.  Anything.  Because my own poison leeches into the words I put together.  I’ve reached a point where I even worry about signing birthday cards.  Because I’m pissed.  I’m pissed at my tribe.  And I’m pissed at myself.  Because somewhere, somehow I, too, gave a home to the infection.  There was enough unexplored fear in my own lizard-brain to allow the contagion to find a foothold and flourish.

It doesn’t matter that this toxin is aimed at the greedy, the thoughtless, the inhumane, the bigots, racists, and misogynists.  It’s an unsettling and disheartening realization for me.  To find myself the cradler of such rage against the ‘Other’.  Hell, it hurts to realize in my head there even is an ‘Other”.  But there is.  I guess it has always been there.  Festering and overlooked.

In the long run, it doesn’t matter how or why just the fact of it is enough to break something inside.  Because this is why we go where we are every time.  It’s easier to cultivate the ‘otherness’ of another human being than it is too look inside and treat the origin of the disease which will destroy, scar and fracture so much of our tribe.

For the time being, I have stopped looking up towards the edge of this hole I’m in.  There is no blue sky up there.  No inviting sunshine.  No puffy-white clouds gracefully drifting by.   The future is up there and all I can see is the smoke from a thousand fires and the bloody stench of what is coming.  It is my hope – if I stay tightly curled around this infection and force it to remain in here with me – I won’t add to the approaching horror of ‘Us’ against ‘Other’.  Because, right now, given the chance, I could be the moron with the hammer happily beating my ideals of ‘right’ into the skull of an ‘Other’.

 

It's Gonna Hurt

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything (I ‘ve said that a lot these past 8 months).  I have excuses, all crafted from a procrastinator’s self-delusion; I’m working on something else, I’m too tired, I’m too busy, my muse has been abducted, cats and grand-cubs need me, I don’t feel like it (this one’s true), and I have a job (and so is this one). 

In actuality, they’re all lies because the reason I have avoided my pen is a full-on retreat (which is hard to admit given cowardice is not something I’m proud of).  Why?  Pain.  In the aftermath of one of the most epic examples of human failing, I was catapulted squarely into the land of emotional and mental agony.  I hurt.  My mind hurt.  My heart hurt.  I dove into my cave (sanitized of everything which had hurt me) and refused to acknowledge anything outside the door.  I watched historical documentaries (because current events made me ill), read books (carefully selected), went crafty (or crazy) and made ‘things’ (which is probably the only word to describe some of my attempts), talked mostly to my cats (because they’re blessedly tight-lipped when it comes to things like world events, politics and religion) and gave my life over to the avoidance found in isolation. 

In other words, I did what we all do.  I did not deal well with my pain.  Despite evidence that the majority of us are constantly struggling with some form of pain, almost no one copes with it.  (What evidence?  Pain is a signal that something is wrong.  We are, for the most part, panicked, haunted, self-consumed, medicated to the eyeballs, running through life 900 mph and selling our souls for coin.  Something is very wrong.)  We ignore, downplay, or push pain aside whenever and however we can.  Misdirected (often bad) coping-skills (“walk-it-off” mentality, avoidance, 500 count bottles of pain reliever, cases of wine, etc.) have given us a pass to deny pain until we can no longer circumnavigate it.  And why do we avoid it?  Well, we’re told it’s because it hurts and nobody likes to hurt.  (Okay, some do, but that’s a whole ‘nother kind of situation.)  In reality, we ignore pain because it gets in the way of what we’re doing to avoid feeling pain. 

The issue of pain can be complex and overwhelming.  Especially if we wait too long.  Still, a solution is approachable if we change how we think about it.  Twinges, depression, aches, soreness, doubt or anxiety are seen as uninvited pests who serve no purpose, occasionally crashing the party and peeing in the fruit punch for no particular reason beyond annoying us.  Yet, all forms of pain appear when the individual has been wounded in some way.  In this context, pain is like a traffic cop stationed protectively at the scene of an ‘accident’ working to stop more damage from growing out of the first by prompting us to slow down, take notice and act accordingly.  In other words, pain alerts you to what is effecting the quality of your life.  Regarded this way, we realize ignoring it risks creating a 20-car pileup, bringing the whole city to a crippled standstill.  Which could have most likely been avoided if we had just listened to him instead of trying to plow over him or drive around him.

Working with pain successfully begins with self-awareness. Regularly assessing your emotions, mind and body (which, ironically, brings the pain of discomfort to most people) is essential. Taking personal inventory on a regular basis is the best way to understand where and why you are experiencing pain before it gets out of control.  (Seriously, this takes like five minutes and you can do it anywhere.)  Sit down and question yourself like a health care provider would.  Where are you emotionally? Sad?  Frustrated?  Afraid?  What are you avoiding thinking about?  Or is there something you can’t stop thinking about?  How are you physically? 

If part of you is aching, hurting, or tender, don’t run.  Notice it.  Allow yourself to feel what’s there.  This is the site of an accident.  Assess the damage honestly.  Recognizing the difference between a flat tire (something you can fix easily) or a totaled engine (something that needs assistance) is vital to bringing a real end to pain.  Is it a fender bender or a full-on crash?  (Are you sore from working too hard?  Or are you deeply wounded by an unhappy childhood?)  Do you know how to work towards fixing it?  Or do you need to learn how?  (Another important step is accepting the reality of your ability to heal the problem yourself.)  Is it something you can rectify through rest or a change in behavior?  Or do you need professional advice? 

Once you have assessed the cause begin to actively nurture.  For some, this is as simple as choosing to act in a way that is self-caring.  Those who were fortunate enough to have loving caregivers as children learned the basics; healthy food, exercise, hygiene, rest, regular sleep habits, time given to things which nourish the soul.  Some, however, experienced something different.  Those individuals have to learn the tools.  This can be accomplished by reading books, articles and blogs, attending workshops, or watching lectures on self-care as well as talking with counselors.  (And for the love of all things holy, stop buying what the advertising community defines as self-care! Blowing $10,000 in Las Vegas or drinking a certain brand of beer or trying to look like a millionaire prince/ess or shopping until your credit card smells like burnt plastic is NOT productive self-care! It’s self-medicating - avoidance of pain at its most costly.)

Of course, I know all this, but when misplaced faith was handed back to me in pieces, I chose to take a dive anyway.  Partially because I had invested so deeply in the illusion that human beings were something other than they continuously prove themselves to be.  (Sort of like expecting a sheep to act like a lion.  My bad.)  Yet, I also know, in hiding from my pain, I’m hiding from assessing the problem which leads to the solutions needed to bring change.  One important tool of my own self-care is forgiving myself for flaws, failings and weaknesses.  (It's been liberally applied to this situation.)  So, I’ve dusted off my courage and am venturing back out to the scene of the crash, because locked in a fetal position, unable to move, I can’t have a positive impact on my world.

A Christmas Message

Merry Christmas, Mr. Darwin. 

Let’s just admit it.  Darwin was wrong and someone needs to wake him up and tell him his theory was an epic fail.  On a large scale.  Outside of larger brain caps and hairless knuckles (for some) the evolution of the human race has proven to be a myth.  Or if not a myth, it’s a flat-landed joke which ended several millennia ago.  Because we are not evolving – in no way do I see the humanity around me moving upwards into a ‘higher’ state.  Nope.  When I look into this train wreck of stupidity and cowardice all I see is a fast track spiral headed down with glaring heaps of collateral damage piling up along the tracks.  (But as long as it doesn’t screw with our bank balance what does it matter, right?)

On the whole we are not good at evolution.  In fact, on a daily basis I see how badly we suck at it.  Oh, we got the physical side of it right.  But only because it served our purpose (and we could out-screw the mortality rate.  Kinda like rats.)  I mean, who wants to waddle around open fields full of furry predators and wind up as lunch for something with fangs?  But the rest of it?  The expanded awareness?  The higher intelligence?  The ability to think, reason and apply forethought and logic to further the progress of our species?  We not only missed the mark, apparently most of us have never even made it out of the quiver.

Of course, there are a few exceptions.  Rare individuals who have the capacity to feel something other than hate, fear and prejudice.  Strange human anomalies infected with insight, compassion and altruism.  Weird folks who are not ruled by their lizard brains.  They’re pretty easy to spot because they don’t fit into this world we have created.  You can see them if you take a moment to pull your attention out of your bank book and actually look another person in the face.  They’re the ones that are bleeding to death invisibly right in front of you. They have the bruised, hollow eyes of a  casualty of war.  But no worries.  They don’t stick around for long given we have a tendency to kill them off because they make us uncomfortably aware of how glaringly we have failed to continue the upward motion of progress.

What we are good at is de-evolution.  Put anything into the scope of our awareness and we can erode it down to the lowest, meanest particle, twist it into an invalidated, unrecognizable 'truth' or obliterate it completely.  We literally drag down or destroy everything we touch.  Give us children and we’ll twist them with the shade and shadow of our stupidity, feeding them hate and fear like Halloween candy.  Put us in view of new and amazing ways to grow and learn and we’ll demonize them and run screaming the other way.  (Or force them to conform to our own version of reality – even if it destroys them.)  Give us amazing forests and we will raze them to the ground to make particle board furniture that will only last three years.  Vibrant, vital oceans?  No problem.  We’ve turned them into huge, seething toilets.  Give us hundreds of thousands of years of history and we will bomb it off the planet without a single thought (at least the parts we don’t cart off to sell).  I mean, we've even turned Charles Darwin into a God-hating atheist when, in fact, the man was a more devote Christian than the apostles who ran and hid when Christ was arrested!

And what about that?  Nothing is safe from us.  Not even God.  Let's take Christ for example.  We started out with the story of a compassionate, forgiving, altruistic soul – A radical, intelligent, compassionate teacher and leader who looked into the status quo of His time and started a revolution.  This man gave love, aid and forgiveness to anyone no matter who they were, where they came from and what they had done.  He fought the established system of prejudice and elitism and struggled to bring about the idea that everyone was equal under the eyes of God.  He ate with the poor, fought with the church, shredded the dogma that divided people and opened the possibility of faith for everyone.  The man believed so deeply in His cause He voluntarily allowed Himself to be arrested, tortured and murdered because He thought it would aid the upward growth of humanity.  And over the two-thousand years since His crucifixion we have turned Him in to a Capitalist, separatist warlord who hates the poor, the whore, and anyone who isn’t some shade of lighter skin.

Untold masses have been tortured, burned, beheaded, strangled, sacrificed, bombed, shot, and killed in His name.  One half of the entire population (women) has been regulated to the status of subjugated property to be raped, claimed, traded, bartered and bred in His name.  Vast segments of the human family whose skin wasn’t quite the right shade or who weren’t born in quite the right places or who didn’t act quite the right way have been denied their humanity and placed in the category of animals. In His name.  Cultures, creeds and communities have been eradicated off the face of the world in His name.  Treasure and resources have been seized (stolen) and money has been made (horded) in His name.  In fact, more atrocities committed, condoned and commanded in the name of Christ mar the collective consciousness of human kind than any other in our long, sad history. 

And now, here we are, on the eve of His holiday preparing to celebrate the event of His birth.  And how are we doing this?  On the personal scale we’re rushing around tired, harried and irritable.  We are bitching and moaning about enforced time with the family (who we can’t stand because we can’t forgive them for the petty slights born from being human) and we’re spending money we don’t want to spend in the hopes that our gift will be the best one given (which is more about showing off than showing love, btw).  On a global stage – Americans are about to launch into a four-year reign of justified greed, misogyny and racism with a seated president (elected mainly by Christians) who is only one-inch right-side of a low-browed, knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, and I say that because I assume the man understands the basic operation of a zipper.  (He is a self-avowed sexual predator, after all.)  And somewhere in all this wonderful Jesus-season celebration, we’ll rush out to a church and warm a pew so that everyone will see us sitting pretty in our Sunday best.  And (maybe) for a few minutes we'll think about that third-world, non-white infant who was born in a barn to working class parents and died penniless, beaten and broken for humanity.  (Seriously, does anyone else get the irony of what we've turned this man into!?)

And how did we get here?  Simple.  De-evolution.  So, yes, I silently agree with the Christians I encounter when they inform me (bristling like tomcats in a piss-stained, blind alley when I wish them a “Happy Holiday” instead of a “Merry Christmas”) Jesus is their reason for the season.  The greedy, rude, superior, selfish, hate-filled, debt-riddled, compassionless, capitalist season.  Just like Jesus was their reason for the Holy Inquisition.  And the Witch Hunts. And the justification for slavery.  And the Dark Ages.  And the decimation of aboriginal peoples the world over.  And whatever new offenses and horrors await the world (committed in the name of Christ and Country) at the dawn of 2017.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go over here in this ever-shrinking corner and hang out with a few radical, long-haired, hippy liberals who think that food, water and even-ground opportunity should be basic human rights.  I might help feed the poor.  I may spend my time comforting the widowed and the orphaned.  I may bake a cake for a gay man or a transvestite.  I may hug a Muslim or a Buddhist.  I may even (gasp) give my coat to a homeless person without telling him to ‘get a job’. Or, (God forbid) find another revolutionary who is capable of crawling up out of the muck and mire of my animal-brained brothers and sisters who would be willing to launch yet another attempt to to bring down the status quo. After all, it's the season of hope... and maybe - just maybe - we could make our tendency toward de-evolution work in a good way for a change.