There are a lot of twists and turns in life. Sometimes it is hard to pin point them. Most often we don't know them while they are happening. This book and where it lead us turned out to be one of them.
I was involved a bit in the political scene in Puerto Rico. We lived in a lovely little casita in the suburb of San Juan, called Rio Piedras. The University was very near our house. I took Spanish lessons there for a bit, but couldn't help getting pulled into the politics. Riots were happening at the U. with increasing frequency. Riots for independence from USA. There it is again: the Vietnam War. Puerto Rico is a colony of the USA. Puerto Ricans had (have) to pay taxes and were being drafted to the killing fields of Vietnam in terribly upsetting numbers. They had to go to Vietnam. They had no vote, as if that would have changed much at the time. They were royally pissed off.
We would go over to see what was happening when we would hear helicopters and gun shots. I would sometimes send dispatches to Liberation News Service, the news source for many of the underground newspapers in the States. Many classes were cancelled because of the politics. (Same thing had been happening at home.) It was a hard year in the US for any person of conscience. The Democratic Convention in Chicago, the murder of Dr. King, the murder of Bobby Kennedy, the murder of thousands of American kids and millions of Vietnamese people. It was bad.
We worked. We partied. We ate lovely food. We visited the frozen food section of the supermarket on our way home from work many days to cool off for a few minutes. Neither work nor home had air. We had lots of guests. Patrick wrote to the woman who had given Bobbin the book, Jennifer Greene.
She wrote that she was going to study Anthroposophy (the work of Rudolf Steiner) the following year in a Masters program at Adelphi University on Long Island. Patrick became more and more interested. Many early hippies had become political activists. Many political activists were stating to turn to spiritual disciplines. I was not so interested, but I was, kind of. What I remember is that Patrick was galvanized by this book. He had to know more. He ate it up. He spent real time with it. My wobbly memory of my own reaction was that I thought it was cool, but that Bobbin and Patrick were much more scientific than I was.
I don't mean to say that I was not interested in spiritual stuff. I was a very good Catholic until I wasn't. At boarding school I was required to go to church every Sunday. We went to every denomination in Boston in the course of 3 years. Bobbin and I had loved studying World Religions in college, reading every original story we could; The Ramayana, the Bhagavad Gita, St Thomas Aquinas, Thomas Merton, Plato..that kind of stuff.
I had never read much of the Theosophists and none of Anthroposophy. Patrick decided he want to join Jennifer Greene and study with John Gardner the following year. It seemed like it could possibly be interesting.
As we wrapped up the school year in Puerto Rico, after losing P. overboard on a wild sail to Vieques with our psychiatrist friend, we made tickets to go to Long Island for an interview with John Gardner on our way to Europe to hike in the Alps for the summer. We needed to do something really healthy, feel bright crisp air, shake off the rum and the laziness which had become our habit in PR. It was a plan. We bought our tiny yellow tent, put everything we owned out on the curb for people to find and take home, and flew to New York for a twenty-four hour stay with John and Carol Gardner whom we had never met.
I was pretty certain that I could find courses I wanted to take n or around New York. I had no idea that I was about to meet the most important man in my life and I had no idea that we would start out like fire and water.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Thursday, October 3, 2013
My first encounter with the man who would become my best friend.
Patrick and I had been living in Puerto Rico. The year was 1967-1968. It was a sort of accident that we were there at all, if we chose to believe in accidents. We were married, penniless, hippies, Had had an extended honeymoon of months of wandering around the USA doing fun hippie things. Everyone got married in those days. You couldn't sleep together or get a hotel room together or rent a house if you weren't married. An then there was the Vietnam War...another reason people got married in those days.
I had decided that I wanted to go back to school to study political stuff. I chose the University of Wisconsin because it was one of the hotbeds of political activity and there was someone there I wanted to study under. I can no longer remember who it was. We were bumming around Connecticut where Patrick had gone to college and where my folks lived. I wasn't hearing from Wisconsin. I had no question that I would be accepted so we had made our plans accordingly. (Who was that young woman?)
Sometime in the summer, I finally got nervous and called the school. No, I wasn't accepted because they had never gotten a complete application. A bit of research showed that I sent all my forms in under my married name, but all my transcripts had been sent under my maiden name. Oops. I wasn't used to being married, obviously.
They offered that I could come in January. I couldn't see moving to fucking Wisconsin in January. You had to be crazy to do something like that.
We were having dinner at my parents house when one of the guests, a lovely Puerto Rican woman who worked with Mom in social work in Hartford, a city bursting at that time with Puerto Rican immigrants, upon hearing we had no plan for fall, suggested that we go to Puerto Rico and teach school for the year. It sounded heavenly to us. We were there within a few weeks.
We both got jobs in a private school. I taught English and French and Patrick taught English and Puerrto Rican History. The school was a trip and a half. Our social life was mostly drinking and beaching. It really came under the heading of 'partying.' Lots of dancing and pig roasts, the usual kind of thing.
One day Patric got a book in the mail from our friend Bobbin. I think it was a wedding present she had gotten from Jennifer Greene who lived across the hall from her at Sarah Lawrence College. The book was about water.
"Theodor Schwenk (1910, Schwäbisch Gmünd - 1986) was an anthroposophist, an engineer and a pioneering water researcher. He founded the Institute for Flow. Science. Link: http://www.stroemungsinstitut.de/prospect.htm His book Sensitive Chaos has been cited by Ralph Abraham, the California mathematician and Chaos theorist, as an influence on his thinking. Schwenk talks about the need for "water consciousness", maintaining that the movement of water, by its very essence, signifies change. Cosmic consciousness is symbolized by water, where all particles merge into a single, transcendental entity. Man, according to Schwenk, will come closer to the secret of life by studying the cyclicality of movement opened from above. Schwenk further notes myths and tales pertaining to the treasure hidden under water, introducing the quandary-assumption that the treasure is, in fact, the water itself! "
This book changed our lives.
Mas manana.
I had decided that I wanted to go back to school to study political stuff. I chose the University of Wisconsin because it was one of the hotbeds of political activity and there was someone there I wanted to study under. I can no longer remember who it was. We were bumming around Connecticut where Patrick had gone to college and where my folks lived. I wasn't hearing from Wisconsin. I had no question that I would be accepted so we had made our plans accordingly. (Who was that young woman?)
Sometime in the summer, I finally got nervous and called the school. No, I wasn't accepted because they had never gotten a complete application. A bit of research showed that I sent all my forms in under my married name, but all my transcripts had been sent under my maiden name. Oops. I wasn't used to being married, obviously.
They offered that I could come in January. I couldn't see moving to fucking Wisconsin in January. You had to be crazy to do something like that.
We were having dinner at my parents house when one of the guests, a lovely Puerto Rican woman who worked with Mom in social work in Hartford, a city bursting at that time with Puerto Rican immigrants, upon hearing we had no plan for fall, suggested that we go to Puerto Rico and teach school for the year. It sounded heavenly to us. We were there within a few weeks.
We both got jobs in a private school. I taught English and French and Patrick taught English and Puerrto Rican History. The school was a trip and a half. Our social life was mostly drinking and beaching. It really came under the heading of 'partying.' Lots of dancing and pig roasts, the usual kind of thing.
One day Patric got a book in the mail from our friend Bobbin. I think it was a wedding present she had gotten from Jennifer Greene who lived across the hall from her at Sarah Lawrence College. The book was about water.
"Theodor Schwenk (1910, Schwäbisch Gmünd - 1986) was an anthroposophist, an engineer and a pioneering water researcher. He founded the Institute for Flow. Science. Link: http://www.stroemungsinstitut.de/prospect.htm His book Sensitive Chaos has been cited by Ralph Abraham, the California mathematician and Chaos theorist, as an influence on his thinking. Schwenk talks about the need for "water consciousness", maintaining that the movement of water, by its very essence, signifies change. Cosmic consciousness is symbolized by water, where all particles merge into a single, transcendental entity. Man, according to Schwenk, will come closer to the secret of life by studying the cyclicality of movement opened from above. Schwenk further notes myths and tales pertaining to the treasure hidden under water, introducing the quandary-assumption that the treasure is, in fact, the water itself! "
This book changed our lives.
Mas manana.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
A Homeless Woman Breaks My Heart
In his wonderful Post Jungian writings, James Hillman talks about a patient who is depressed after she runs into a begging homeless person on the street. Firstly, she experienced the dilemma about whether to give money to the man. What if it was a drug addict or alcoholic and he just wanted money to make himself sicker? That's fucked up. And she knew that she couldn't give him enough money to really help him. That felt fucked up. By the time the woman had had all these thoughts, she had walked past the homeless man and was fully in her head. She later went to a therapist and talked about her feelings.
In her therapists office, they spoke about her parents and her grandparents and her childhood. She still felt lousy. When she got to Hillman, he suggested that she might get out of her head and do something about homelessness. She did and she felt better. Hum. Was that a brilliant shrink or some age old wisdom that most people know? Helping someone else is one of the finest steps toward curing depression.
With all the depressed people in our country, you'd think we would have the most helping society ever. With all the Christians in our culture, would think we would all be tripping over ourselves helping the least fortunate. Instead, we are extremely busy making trouble all over the world. (Listen to Jeremy Scahill on how the US laid the foundation this summer for the Kenya massacre. Makes your blood run cold.) I think we need to work on the weird idea once floated in Philadelphia about "Brotherly Love." I expect that we could return to our much earlier ideal of what the USA was set up to do best, and it would be good medicine for all of us.
So, about my preaching. The other evening, I was sitting on my veranda . It was cold and rainy, but the sunset was breaking through the clouds. I was trying to decide what to have for dinner. I had many choices. My friend Greeley was inside the house talking on the phone. A very wet, very bedraggled woman called to me from the sidewalk asking if I had a phone she might use to call her mother. I said, "Sure." She was very frail, shaved head, missing some front teeth, dressed in a filthy hoodie, new flip flops, maybe 40, looking 60. She was chatting as she came to sit next to me.
I handed her my phone. She started saying her mother was in Mexico but the number was San Diego and talking about how she had always had problems with her mom but now things were great. Her mother answered and they had a very unsatisfying conversation from my viewpoint. Neither knew where they were, as they made plans to see each other soon. She hung up and seemed happy.
She said she had had a free dinner and in her plastic bag she had a new sleeping bag, but no tent. I offered to help her find a shelter for the night. She went into some long story about how she can't stay in places because .....I gave her a pair of sox, a bottle of lemonade, I offered her a hat. She didn't like it. Greeley came out and found a hat she liked. She never stopped talking. She was very sweet, but the talking didn't make sense. She started to leave. The rain started to pour down. Greeley gave her some money. I felt like shit.
Even if I could have found her a place to sleep, she had clearly had bad experiences and got frightened when I made the suggestion. Friends say she sounded like a meth person with all that jabbering. I have no way of knowing, but her sweetness doesn't exactly jive with my impression of meth users. Whatever it was, she was a deeply troubled, very lost, cold, human being.
I'm glad I met her. I have met her in people who have food and comforts and nice places to live. Whether her suffering comes from addictions or mental illness or both, she is a deeply suffering human. We have a big problem here in Oregon with homeless folks. But I think the bigger problem is with mental health and addictions. And my problem is that it makes me sad and putting bandages on a broken artery doesn't seem to help. That being said, I will continue with my little acts of kindness. I figure now that every cup of coffee I have at my local coffee shop cost me about $8 because I always have to give to the people begging outside. I am not going to stop thinking a little money and a kind word won't sometimes help a person. I read about miracles all the time. They often can be initiated by the smallest thing.
In her therapists office, they spoke about her parents and her grandparents and her childhood. She still felt lousy. When she got to Hillman, he suggested that she might get out of her head and do something about homelessness. She did and she felt better. Hum. Was that a brilliant shrink or some age old wisdom that most people know? Helping someone else is one of the finest steps toward curing depression.
With all the depressed people in our country, you'd think we would have the most helping society ever. With all the Christians in our culture, would think we would all be tripping over ourselves helping the least fortunate. Instead, we are extremely busy making trouble all over the world. (Listen to Jeremy Scahill on how the US laid the foundation this summer for the Kenya massacre. Makes your blood run cold.) I think we need to work on the weird idea once floated in Philadelphia about "Brotherly Love." I expect that we could return to our much earlier ideal of what the USA was set up to do best, and it would be good medicine for all of us.
So, about my preaching. The other evening, I was sitting on my veranda . It was cold and rainy, but the sunset was breaking through the clouds. I was trying to decide what to have for dinner. I had many choices. My friend Greeley was inside the house talking on the phone. A very wet, very bedraggled woman called to me from the sidewalk asking if I had a phone she might use to call her mother. I said, "Sure." She was very frail, shaved head, missing some front teeth, dressed in a filthy hoodie, new flip flops, maybe 40, looking 60. She was chatting as she came to sit next to me.
I handed her my phone. She started saying her mother was in Mexico but the number was San Diego and talking about how she had always had problems with her mom but now things were great. Her mother answered and they had a very unsatisfying conversation from my viewpoint. Neither knew where they were, as they made plans to see each other soon. She hung up and seemed happy.
She said she had had a free dinner and in her plastic bag she had a new sleeping bag, but no tent. I offered to help her find a shelter for the night. She went into some long story about how she can't stay in places because .....I gave her a pair of sox, a bottle of lemonade, I offered her a hat. She didn't like it. Greeley came out and found a hat she liked. She never stopped talking. She was very sweet, but the talking didn't make sense. She started to leave. The rain started to pour down. Greeley gave her some money. I felt like shit.
Even if I could have found her a place to sleep, she had clearly had bad experiences and got frightened when I made the suggestion. Friends say she sounded like a meth person with all that jabbering. I have no way of knowing, but her sweetness doesn't exactly jive with my impression of meth users. Whatever it was, she was a deeply troubled, very lost, cold, human being.
I'm glad I met her. I have met her in people who have food and comforts and nice places to live. Whether her suffering comes from addictions or mental illness or both, she is a deeply suffering human. We have a big problem here in Oregon with homeless folks. But I think the bigger problem is with mental health and addictions. And my problem is that it makes me sad and putting bandages on a broken artery doesn't seem to help. That being said, I will continue with my little acts of kindness. I figure now that every cup of coffee I have at my local coffee shop cost me about $8 because I always have to give to the people begging outside. I am not going to stop thinking a little money and a kind word won't sometimes help a person. I read about miracles all the time. They often can be initiated by the smallest thing.
Friday, September 27, 2013
A low level example of how complicated medical stuff is in the USA.
I have Medicare.
I pay $130 a month. My income is below poverty by any measure.
I pay for drugs insurance.
I have an annual deductible.
Medicare negotiates costs of services at an incomprehensible formula.
I grow a keretosis (sp?) on my hand. What can I say, I'm Irish. We are specialists at this.
It keeps growing and looks awful.
My friend Gretchen, who is an aestetician tells me to have it looked at when it gets red from being bumped and grows big. She says it is a keretosis, but large.
I make a doctor's appointment and walk to the medical building near the hospital.
The doctor looks at it and says it is a keretosis. It is big. It should fall off.
I go home.
A flurry of bills and statements come. I am not sure whether I owe anything.
A month passes and it is really ugly.
New appointment with the doc.
He tells me to make an appointment to have it frozen off.
I do so.
He freezes it and says it should be fine in a few weeks.
It is worse.
He looks at it again and says it should be surgically removed. He can do it, but it would be better to go to a dermatologist.
He gives me a referral but says it could take a long time because we don't have enough dermatologists in the Valley. The dermatologist will call and make an appointment when they get the referral.
I wait three weeks.
Nothing happens.
I call the doctors office and they say that the procedure has changed and I need to call the dermatologist.
I call and the first new patient appointment is months out.
I call the doctor and make an appointment for him to cut it off. He will be on vacation for three weeks.
Doctor's office cancels the appointment three weeks later. Doctor's wife is sick.
Thing is growing and looking angrier every day. Gretchen is freaking out.
I went and had the thing cut off.
I had to go back the next day to have it redressed.
I went back again a week later to have the stitches out.
It looks OK.
No report back from the lab yet, 10 days later.
The bills and statements will be flying for months.
Now, I understand that this is a very minor deal, but what is wrong here? I am a 69 year old woman walking to the office again and again. All these people are involved in cutting off this minor thing. All the appointments are charged to Medicare. It felt crazy.
In Nicaragua, I had a cyst on my shoulder that started growing after many years. I went to Dr. Blanco and waltzed in and he said he should remove it. I said, "How much?" he said "$30" I said "fine". He cut it off, did a beautiful job, barely any scar. I handed the receptionist $30 and went home. Twenty minutes max. No phone calls. The receptionist put the money in a drawer and went on chatting with her friend.
I live in a crazy country and am soooooooooooo grateful that I haven't encountered a big problem yet.
I pay $130 a month. My income is below poverty by any measure.
I pay for drugs insurance.
I have an annual deductible.
Medicare negotiates costs of services at an incomprehensible formula.
I grow a keretosis (sp?) on my hand. What can I say, I'm Irish. We are specialists at this.
It keeps growing and looks awful.
My friend Gretchen, who is an aestetician tells me to have it looked at when it gets red from being bumped and grows big. She says it is a keretosis, but large.
I make a doctor's appointment and walk to the medical building near the hospital.
The doctor looks at it and says it is a keretosis. It is big. It should fall off.
I go home.
A flurry of bills and statements come. I am not sure whether I owe anything.
A month passes and it is really ugly.
New appointment with the doc.
He tells me to make an appointment to have it frozen off.
I do so.
He freezes it and says it should be fine in a few weeks.
It is worse.
He looks at it again and says it should be surgically removed. He can do it, but it would be better to go to a dermatologist.
He gives me a referral but says it could take a long time because we don't have enough dermatologists in the Valley. The dermatologist will call and make an appointment when they get the referral.
I wait three weeks.
Nothing happens.
I call the doctors office and they say that the procedure has changed and I need to call the dermatologist.
I call and the first new patient appointment is months out.
I call the doctor and make an appointment for him to cut it off. He will be on vacation for three weeks.
Doctor's office cancels the appointment three weeks later. Doctor's wife is sick.
Thing is growing and looking angrier every day. Gretchen is freaking out.
I went and had the thing cut off.
I had to go back the next day to have it redressed.
I went back again a week later to have the stitches out.
It looks OK.
No report back from the lab yet, 10 days later.
The bills and statements will be flying for months.
Now, I understand that this is a very minor deal, but what is wrong here? I am a 69 year old woman walking to the office again and again. All these people are involved in cutting off this minor thing. All the appointments are charged to Medicare. It felt crazy.
In Nicaragua, I had a cyst on my shoulder that started growing after many years. I went to Dr. Blanco and waltzed in and he said he should remove it. I said, "How much?" he said "$30" I said "fine". He cut it off, did a beautiful job, barely any scar. I handed the receptionist $30 and went home. Twenty minutes max. No phone calls. The receptionist put the money in a drawer and went on chatting with her friend.
I live in a crazy country and am soooooooooooo grateful that I haven't encountered a big problem yet.
Misery
One day quite recently some friends and I were drinking coffee and having a lovely chat. The sun was shining in all our lives in spite of the cold fall day which had driven us inside.
We never lack for conversation. Never. But after we all checked in and found ourselves in one of those rare moments when we had no overwhelming worries or concerns, the conversation quieted down somewhat. Until, for reasons I can't remember, we got onto weddings. Then almost immediately we got onto the most dramatic weddings we had attended. Then we got onto the total disasters. Then we were all speaking at once, highly animated, laughing uproariously, exclaiming in horror as each story topped the next. By then, we could be heard to use actual words of competition: "I can top that.", "This one will slay you." and so on.
What was actually going on? Most of us love story telling. It is part of our humanity. It is part of our definition of ourselves. I think we reveal a lot about ourselves by what we share. It was also humor. Laughing together is good mojo. That's a no brainer. We weren't being mean, much of our humor was entirely self-deprecating. I have mentioned before how much easier it is to describe disaster and bad things than peaceful, calm, quiet, placid, nice things.
Look at Heaven and Hell as portrayed through the ages. How incredibly vivid and terrifying the portrayals and descriptions of Hell are in literature and paintings! And Heaven, well, clouds, harps, shining city on the hill. Ho hum. And yet many people throughout history have striven through their lives to buy, earn, deserve the life in the clouds beyond the pearly gates. Who gives us a good look at Nirvana? And how does that compare with a deep look at the sufferings of mankind?
This is just observation. Maybe we need to get a better picture of peace and love. Maybe we need to try to paint or describe a perfected world. The, maybe, we can get on with the creation of it.
We never lack for conversation. Never. But after we all checked in and found ourselves in one of those rare moments when we had no overwhelming worries or concerns, the conversation quieted down somewhat. Until, for reasons I can't remember, we got onto weddings. Then almost immediately we got onto the most dramatic weddings we had attended. Then we got onto the total disasters. Then we were all speaking at once, highly animated, laughing uproariously, exclaiming in horror as each story topped the next. By then, we could be heard to use actual words of competition: "I can top that.", "This one will slay you." and so on.
What was actually going on? Most of us love story telling. It is part of our humanity. It is part of our definition of ourselves. I think we reveal a lot about ourselves by what we share. It was also humor. Laughing together is good mojo. That's a no brainer. We weren't being mean, much of our humor was entirely self-deprecating. I have mentioned before how much easier it is to describe disaster and bad things than peaceful, calm, quiet, placid, nice things.
Look at Heaven and Hell as portrayed through the ages. How incredibly vivid and terrifying the portrayals and descriptions of Hell are in literature and paintings! And Heaven, well, clouds, harps, shining city on the hill. Ho hum. And yet many people throughout history have striven through their lives to buy, earn, deserve the life in the clouds beyond the pearly gates. Who gives us a good look at Nirvana? And how does that compare with a deep look at the sufferings of mankind?
This is just observation. Maybe we need to get a better picture of peace and love. Maybe we need to try to paint or describe a perfected world. The, maybe, we can get on with the creation of it.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Obama lays it all out in a few words.
This from Democracy Now! today. We can let go of any disingenuous talk about spreading democracy and freedom around the world. We have defined American exceptionalism, and laid out our plan to flatten anyone who gets in our way.
In an address to the United Nations General Assembly, President Obama openly embraced an aggressive military doctrine backed by previous administrations on using armed force beyond the international norm of self-defense. Obama told the world that the United States is prepared to use its military to defend what he called "our core interests" in the Middle East: U.S. access to oil. "[Obama] basically came out and said the U.S. is an imperialist nation and we’re going to do whatever we need to do to conquer areas [and] take resources from people around the world," says independent journalist Jeremy Scahill. "It’s a really naked declaration of imperialism ... When we look back at Obama’s legacy, this is going to have been a very significant period in U.S. history where the ideals of very radical right-wing forces were solidified. President Obama has been a forceful, fierce defender of empire."
Somehow, we have let this happen. We have, in many small decisions, built the foundation for this definition of who we are. Of course, this has always been the case starting with the virtual elimination of the First People. I guess the biggest surprise is that we fooled ourselves into thinking that we have benevolent motives for so long. And it seems to me that we are lousy at being imperialists, lousy at winning wars, lousy at running other countries, lousy at winning hearts and minds.
We very much need to define who we are, both individually and as a nation. And we need to be the great nation we want to think of ourselves as before spreading ruin.
In an address to the United Nations General Assembly, President Obama openly embraced an aggressive military doctrine backed by previous administrations on using armed force beyond the international norm of self-defense. Obama told the world that the United States is prepared to use its military to defend what he called "our core interests" in the Middle East: U.S. access to oil. "[Obama] basically came out and said the U.S. is an imperialist nation and we’re going to do whatever we need to do to conquer areas [and] take resources from people around the world," says independent journalist Jeremy Scahill. "It’s a really naked declaration of imperialism ... When we look back at Obama’s legacy, this is going to have been a very significant period in U.S. history where the ideals of very radical right-wing forces were solidified. President Obama has been a forceful, fierce defender of empire."
Somehow, we have let this happen. We have, in many small decisions, built the foundation for this definition of who we are. Of course, this has always been the case starting with the virtual elimination of the First People. I guess the biggest surprise is that we fooled ourselves into thinking that we have benevolent motives for so long. And it seems to me that we are lousy at being imperialists, lousy at winning wars, lousy at running other countries, lousy at winning hearts and minds.
We very much need to define who we are, both individually and as a nation. And we need to be the great nation we want to think of ourselves as before spreading ruin.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
My unsolicited advice: Become and expert on a few things, then you know a lot about a lot of things.
One day I was expounding on something I thought was a big deal that day (moi!). My oldest daughter looked at me with frustration and sighed, "I'll never be able to learn about what is going on in so many places." I couldn't agree more. If you are not Noam Chomsky, it is impossible to keep up with everything. Impossible! I did, however, have a suggestion. I suggested that she take one or two countries and review their history. Take El Salvador and Iran or Guatemala and Vietnam or Nicaragua and Iraq or Haiti and Sri Lanka. Look closely at how their history has unfolded.
In many cases, the USA has overthrown democratically elected governments, ( Chile, Guatemala, Iran and so on) and replaced them with horrid murderous puppets. The people have suffered until there was no hope and then staged a revolution in which we have pitted the most powerful nation in the world against 'the people' and caused untold suffering, often sufficiently terrorizing or decimating the people until we lose heart. Something like that.
My point was not that I know it all or that it is possible to know it all, but there are a few models that have been repeated throughout history. The Roman Empire, the Huns, any successful raping, pillaging, marauding power are all pretty much the same story. This is the stuff history is made of. This is the stuff that is going on right now. If you learn one story well, you can often change the names of the players and the geography and the 'interests' which are sought and know a very lot about a lot of places.
In the same vein, I think that we can know a tremendous amount about how corporations function by learning a lot about one. Take Monsanto, for instance, when I study the history of that company, it is not a huge leap to know pretty much the story of Chevron, Exxon, BP, the tobacco industry, certain pharma companies. It is the same story with different details.
None of this is any surprise to anyone who cares about such stuff, but it is a helpful hint from Eloise for those who find it a bit overwhelming.
Hasta pronto, amigos.
In many cases, the USA has overthrown democratically elected governments, ( Chile, Guatemala, Iran and so on) and replaced them with horrid murderous puppets. The people have suffered until there was no hope and then staged a revolution in which we have pitted the most powerful nation in the world against 'the people' and caused untold suffering, often sufficiently terrorizing or decimating the people until we lose heart. Something like that.
My point was not that I know it all or that it is possible to know it all, but there are a few models that have been repeated throughout history. The Roman Empire, the Huns, any successful raping, pillaging, marauding power are all pretty much the same story. This is the stuff history is made of. This is the stuff that is going on right now. If you learn one story well, you can often change the names of the players and the geography and the 'interests' which are sought and know a very lot about a lot of places.
In the same vein, I think that we can know a tremendous amount about how corporations function by learning a lot about one. Take Monsanto, for instance, when I study the history of that company, it is not a huge leap to know pretty much the story of Chevron, Exxon, BP, the tobacco industry, certain pharma companies. It is the same story with different details.
None of this is any surprise to anyone who cares about such stuff, but it is a helpful hint from Eloise for those who find it a bit overwhelming.
Hasta pronto, amigos.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Life=Fabric
Just noticing how, as Michaelmas and the full moon pass and autumn commences in the Northern Hemisphere, just how, the weaving of each life gets more and more intricate. We are all weavers in my opinion.
When I wove actual fabric, I was always impatient laying on the warp. I did understand that the strength of the warp and its beauty or its subtlety or its complexity, its visibility or invisibility is the backbone of the entire fabric. Lots of decisions at the onset. Shall I have an invisible silk warp, a repeated stripe, a bold contrasting color? You make those decisions knowing that each one will give you plenty of room to play around once you begin to weave the weft. I rushed to get on with the weaving part.
I know this analogy works, but I don't want to over play it. We weave the fabric of our lives, bringing all kinds of threads together in amazing patterns. Lately, for me, the weave is incredibly complex, yet it still looks like the Julie Fabric. Twice in the last week I have been asked "Who are you?" and "What do you do?". Twice, I have been at a loss for what to answer. I kind of blew off the questions, saying "retired." That isn't very polite, I know. But it is a tough question. I have been a school teacher, a political activist, a parent, a meditation teacher, a janitor, a waitress, a Peace Chaplain, a factory worker, a caretaker, a cook (imagine! Bill Banks you deserved better), a book store owner, a hotel manager, a project manager, a land surveyor.....ad nauseum.
In actuality, I still think of myself as a midwife. I have assisted at a lot of births. I am not being literal here. I seem to have a bit of an ability to help other people or groups of people find their power and birth whatever they have been incubating. I have a lot of confidence in other people and can be a fine midwife. Assisting at actual births opened my eyes and heart to the incredible honor it is to help in the birthing process. The various births have been schools, co-ops, peace projects, individual dreams, the courage to change. That there sort of thing.
So, today I am a midwife and today many threads of my life are coming together simultaneously. Any of you can probably give the exact same report. "Not doing much, but it is all good."
When I wove actual fabric, I was always impatient laying on the warp. I did understand that the strength of the warp and its beauty or its subtlety or its complexity, its visibility or invisibility is the backbone of the entire fabric. Lots of decisions at the onset. Shall I have an invisible silk warp, a repeated stripe, a bold contrasting color? You make those decisions knowing that each one will give you plenty of room to play around once you begin to weave the weft. I rushed to get on with the weaving part.
I know this analogy works, but I don't want to over play it. We weave the fabric of our lives, bringing all kinds of threads together in amazing patterns. Lately, for me, the weave is incredibly complex, yet it still looks like the Julie Fabric. Twice in the last week I have been asked "Who are you?" and "What do you do?". Twice, I have been at a loss for what to answer. I kind of blew off the questions, saying "retired." That isn't very polite, I know. But it is a tough question. I have been a school teacher, a political activist, a parent, a meditation teacher, a janitor, a waitress, a Peace Chaplain, a factory worker, a caretaker, a cook (imagine! Bill Banks you deserved better), a book store owner, a hotel manager, a project manager, a land surveyor.....ad nauseum.
In actuality, I still think of myself as a midwife. I have assisted at a lot of births. I am not being literal here. I seem to have a bit of an ability to help other people or groups of people find their power and birth whatever they have been incubating. I have a lot of confidence in other people and can be a fine midwife. Assisting at actual births opened my eyes and heart to the incredible honor it is to help in the birthing process. The various births have been schools, co-ops, peace projects, individual dreams, the courage to change. That there sort of thing.
So, today I am a midwife and today many threads of my life are coming together simultaneously. Any of you can probably give the exact same report. "Not doing much, but it is all good."
Saturday, September 21, 2013
My favorite movie for a rainy day.
My favorite movie for a cold rainy day is Gandhi.
Martin
I can't believe that it was made 30 years ago. For me, this movie has it all; great story, great filming, great acting, great scenery and so on. It leaves me inspired. I love the combination of how a very personal story of an evolving person interacts with the epic story of civilizations. Where is the Gandhi who will illumine the way from our cultural violence to our society of Brotherly Love?
What is your favorite go-to movie or book for a rainy day? I'd love to hear what does it for you? My movie used to be Gone With the Wind. Then it was Pretty Woman. Weird.
Gandhi
1982 Film
Gandhi
is a 1982 epic biographical film which dramatises the life of Mohandas
Karamchand Gandhi, the leader of India's non-violent, non-cooperative
independence movement against the United Kingdom's rule of the country
during the 20th century. Wikipedia
Release date: December 6, 1982 (USA)
Awards: Academy Award for Best Picture, More
Martin
I can't believe that it was made 30 years ago. For me, this movie has it all; great story, great filming, great acting, great scenery and so on. It leaves me inspired. I love the combination of how a very personal story of an evolving person interacts with the epic story of civilizations. Where is the Gandhi who will illumine the way from our cultural violence to our society of Brotherly Love?
What is your favorite go-to movie or book for a rainy day? I'd love to hear what does it for you? My movie used to be Gone With the Wind. Then it was Pretty Woman. Weird.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Get rid of the Second Amendment, just get rid of it.
Following my belief that we are making no progress tinkering with systems that do not work, I think it is time for some stand up radical action. We can spend the next twenty years farting around and talking about what the signers of the constitution meant by the Second Amendment. We can do that and cry crocodile tears at every mass shooting spree and every individual shooting in our country. We can talk about whether the Founding Fathers meant for excessive ammunition to be kept in arsenals or under the bed. We can wonder whether they imagined the killing machines now available to virtually anyone, healthy or sick, to shoot anyone they feel like for any reason their twisted minds picture. We can talk about the number of fucked up soldiers and mercenaries ticking around like time bombs. We can realize the amount of appeasing and lobbying affecting our congress.
Or maybe we could repeal the Second Amendment, admitting that it is no longer serving us. We could ban all those ugly stupid cowardly guns that are all over our country and being used for senseless, ugly horrific murders.
Where is our courage? Who are we? I know a mentally unstable, alcoholic, angry, cowardly man who has enough legal guns to take out a small town. There is no record of his mental problems anywhere. How many such people are there in this vast country. I have known Vets who don't remember what they do when they are having flash backs. Some of you must know blind people who carry guns. Starbucks made an interesting stand yesterday asking patrons not to bring guns into their shops. Yea.
In El Salvador during the troubles, night clubs and banks and even some hotels had receptacles near the front doors where they had patrons throw their guns when they came in. Some people would take one gun from their coat pocket, one from their ankle, and one from a shoulder holster. Many of these men were mercenaries from the USA. There was a ton of violence. The Wild West. Are we that now? It would seem so. And we are able to buy and carry weapons that most armies in the world only dream of.
Yelling for rights and not ensuring responsibilities is stupid. Are we the famous nation known mostly for its violence and its inability to solve problems? I think so. Get rid of the Second Amendment and start fresh. That is my opinion. Our current stance is not only stupid, it is boring.
Or maybe we could repeal the Second Amendment, admitting that it is no longer serving us. We could ban all those ugly stupid cowardly guns that are all over our country and being used for senseless, ugly horrific murders.
Where is our courage? Who are we? I know a mentally unstable, alcoholic, angry, cowardly man who has enough legal guns to take out a small town. There is no record of his mental problems anywhere. How many such people are there in this vast country. I have known Vets who don't remember what they do when they are having flash backs. Some of you must know blind people who carry guns. Starbucks made an interesting stand yesterday asking patrons not to bring guns into their shops. Yea.
In El Salvador during the troubles, night clubs and banks and even some hotels had receptacles near the front doors where they had patrons throw their guns when they came in. Some people would take one gun from their coat pocket, one from their ankle, and one from a shoulder holster. Many of these men were mercenaries from the USA. There was a ton of violence. The Wild West. Are we that now? It would seem so. And we are able to buy and carry weapons that most armies in the world only dream of.
Yelling for rights and not ensuring responsibilities is stupid. Are we the famous nation known mostly for its violence and its inability to solve problems? I think so. Get rid of the Second Amendment and start fresh. That is my opinion. Our current stance is not only stupid, it is boring.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
I really hate shopping. It should be considered a handicap in this world.
I shouldn't use the word 'hate', it is too strong, except for the fact that it is the word that comes to mind. Let me say that shopping in all its forms is an unpleasant experience for me. This is not only a problem in regular stores, but also street markets, fairs, sidewalk sales, internet, food stores...you get the point.
There are several contributing factors. I don't know who I am is one problem. (more about that later) When I was a kid, my mother took me to very few stores. In fact the first store I remember going to was a day after Thanksgiving sale in a department store in Pennsylvania. I was probably 11. I got a winter coat, but I would have much rather stayed home with my grand mother. Almost all our food was delivered to the house in those days. I have no memory of going to a food market.
I remember lusting after a bathing suit in junior high. I saw it on a friend and my mother got me one. I sewed a lot of my clothes and they were all picked out from magazines. I kid you not, I have no memory of going shopping. When I wanted a felt poodle skirt for ice skating, we made it. Once, I went to The English shop with Mom and the clerk brought out a few things. There was almost nothing on the racks. She showed me what I would like and found the right size. That suited me.
Years later and on a much tighter budget, I was so happy to see big stores that had huge choices. But that didn't work either because they overwhelm me and I get bored in two minutes. This problem has gotten worse and worse.
Living in England where my friends were so excited by Jumble Sales at the churches, I ran in, grabbed what we desperately needed and fled. Mostly I sat outside and read while other people shopped. I had to go to stores in Sussex almost daily because at that time they sold things in 1/4 pound lots and we ate a lot. I hated the meat stores with the geese and chickens hanging upside down with the blood pooling in their faces. Awful thing.
When I had a lot of kids living with me in Marblehead, MA, I had the natural food wholesale truck come to the house once a month. I bought fish at the fish market and veggies at the fruit market. That worked. By then I could send the kids to the stores, anyway.
Fortunately, my sister and my daughters are champion shoppers. On any given day I can look at the clothes and jewelry I am wearing and make a mental map of who gave me what when. On the Camino, I realized that virtually everything in my pack and on my body was gifted to me. What kind of a case am I?
My worst thing is fairs. I liked the Pendleton Roundup because it was all about action. But the idea of wandering around hot dusty rows looking at mostly highly mediocre junk, homemade or not, brings out the inner snob in me. I look at virtually everything as stuff I wouldn't know whether to toss or put in a yard sale tomorrow.
So the inner snob. I love art museums and I mostly dislike galleries. In museums, I can choose what I want to spend time with. In galleries, it feels too much like shopping. Don't get me wrong! I love beauty and beautiful things. One day in Manhattan, my friend and I were feeling low. We got dolled up a bit (limited in my case) and went to Barneys and spent a few hours trying on $30,000 strings of pink pearls. It was a definite pick-me-up.
That brings me to the "I don't know who I am" statement. If I had all the money and all the time in the world and I were to buy clothes or a house or furnish a house, I have no idea what style I would choose. Since most of my life I have been a 'second hand Rose', I am pretty plain. I don't know whether I would have gone for the million dollar casual southwest turquoise, suede look, or maybe a Dallas look with tons of jewelry, face lifts, designer clothes, or maybe Italian high fashion. I don't know. I rather suspect that I would come out looking pretty much exactly the same. I think that in my not knowing, I have chosen over and over to be who I am.
There are several contributing factors. I don't know who I am is one problem. (more about that later) When I was a kid, my mother took me to very few stores. In fact the first store I remember going to was a day after Thanksgiving sale in a department store in Pennsylvania. I was probably 11. I got a winter coat, but I would have much rather stayed home with my grand mother. Almost all our food was delivered to the house in those days. I have no memory of going to a food market.
I remember lusting after a bathing suit in junior high. I saw it on a friend and my mother got me one. I sewed a lot of my clothes and they were all picked out from magazines. I kid you not, I have no memory of going shopping. When I wanted a felt poodle skirt for ice skating, we made it. Once, I went to The English shop with Mom and the clerk brought out a few things. There was almost nothing on the racks. She showed me what I would like and found the right size. That suited me.
Years later and on a much tighter budget, I was so happy to see big stores that had huge choices. But that didn't work either because they overwhelm me and I get bored in two minutes. This problem has gotten worse and worse.
Living in England where my friends were so excited by Jumble Sales at the churches, I ran in, grabbed what we desperately needed and fled. Mostly I sat outside and read while other people shopped. I had to go to stores in Sussex almost daily because at that time they sold things in 1/4 pound lots and we ate a lot. I hated the meat stores with the geese and chickens hanging upside down with the blood pooling in their faces. Awful thing.
When I had a lot of kids living with me in Marblehead, MA, I had the natural food wholesale truck come to the house once a month. I bought fish at the fish market and veggies at the fruit market. That worked. By then I could send the kids to the stores, anyway.
Fortunately, my sister and my daughters are champion shoppers. On any given day I can look at the clothes and jewelry I am wearing and make a mental map of who gave me what when. On the Camino, I realized that virtually everything in my pack and on my body was gifted to me. What kind of a case am I?
My worst thing is fairs. I liked the Pendleton Roundup because it was all about action. But the idea of wandering around hot dusty rows looking at mostly highly mediocre junk, homemade or not, brings out the inner snob in me. I look at virtually everything as stuff I wouldn't know whether to toss or put in a yard sale tomorrow.
So the inner snob. I love art museums and I mostly dislike galleries. In museums, I can choose what I want to spend time with. In galleries, it feels too much like shopping. Don't get me wrong! I love beauty and beautiful things. One day in Manhattan, my friend and I were feeling low. We got dolled up a bit (limited in my case) and went to Barneys and spent a few hours trying on $30,000 strings of pink pearls. It was a definite pick-me-up.
That brings me to the "I don't know who I am" statement. If I had all the money and all the time in the world and I were to buy clothes or a house or furnish a house, I have no idea what style I would choose. Since most of my life I have been a 'second hand Rose', I am pretty plain. I don't know whether I would have gone for the million dollar casual southwest turquoise, suede look, or maybe a Dallas look with tons of jewelry, face lifts, designer clothes, or maybe Italian high fashion. I don't know. I rather suspect that I would come out looking pretty much exactly the same. I think that in my not knowing, I have chosen over and over to be who I am.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Every Action and Thought Today Creates Your Tomorrow
Is original sin the Catholic Church's way of talking about karma? My Jewish friend who is a pediatrician has an awfully hard time with the concept of original sin. How can these beautiful babies coming into the world so pure and perfect need to have their sins forgiven after a few weeks of innocent life at a Baptism ceremony?
I had my kids baptized when my youngest was two months old. I felt the need for some kind of ceremony and probably had some lingering superstitions from my Catholic childhood. And blessings and ceremonies infused with love can't ever hurt anyone, right? It felt lovely, like a putting a etheric wrap around our little family constellation. (Unitarian minister, school chapel, hippie friends...so not quite mainstream. Heaven forbid!)
I know that each of us brings our karmic assets and debts into each incarnation. For me, there can be no other explanation for the root causes of how each life unfolds. I believe firmly that we choose the parents we are born to because we know ahead what we need to clean out old karma. So, the karmic load we bring could be called 'original sin'. I am not very convinced that any baptismal ceremony erases this.
But if we could start from birth and obey all the moral rules from all religions from the "Thou shall nots" to the "Right Livelihood, Right intention", and the "Love your neighbor as yourself," kind of guidelines, we would be putting some mighty good future karma into action.
I am thinking about this in regard to the question from an anonymous reader about who should pay for the medical care and support of the baby boomers. And he/she wonders whether or not the very wealthy should be collecting from the same pot as the very poor and thinks rightly that this is not a sustainable plan. Let me be clear, I know shit about economics. But I do read this and that and I do observe what is going on around me and I do form opinions.
From my side, I have a hard time rejoicing in my good fortune when it is built on the suffering or slavery of others. As I have previously stated, I am not a fan of any of the systems that have been tried in the past and failed miserably, colossally. That would be stupid. I have this hope that we could make a new system. I think it will be incumbent on the young, the people who are not trying to fiddle with failed ways of doing things. As Jesse Jackson said at a United Farm Workers strike against Monsanto in the strawberry fields of Watsonville, CA, "What is wrong with the idea that we pay the workers well, make a safe and healthy product, care for the earth, and still make the stock holders a shit load of money?" There must be a way we can have it all.
The karma of greed, the karma of oppression, the karma of violating others, will come back at us. The good karma that some of us were born with to get good genes, good education, healthy bodies, plenty of food, will be squandered if we can't feed the people who feed us. There is no religion in the world that preaches "me first", "winner takes all", 'get what you can" and the losers can fuck off and die. It wouldn't make sense.
I am interested in any thoughts my readers have about how we can do thing better. I can't make myself think that putting the money under the mattress and having a gun in bed with me would make me feel any happier or more secure. I can't think that bombing or threatening to bomb any peoples who don't tow my line makes me any safer. I hope we are soon coming to a situation which will stimulate some genius, (Not Karl Marx or Mao) to make some sense of this.
I had my kids baptized when my youngest was two months old. I felt the need for some kind of ceremony and probably had some lingering superstitions from my Catholic childhood. And blessings and ceremonies infused with love can't ever hurt anyone, right? It felt lovely, like a putting a etheric wrap around our little family constellation. (Unitarian minister, school chapel, hippie friends...so not quite mainstream. Heaven forbid!)
I know that each of us brings our karmic assets and debts into each incarnation. For me, there can be no other explanation for the root causes of how each life unfolds. I believe firmly that we choose the parents we are born to because we know ahead what we need to clean out old karma. So, the karmic load we bring could be called 'original sin'. I am not very convinced that any baptismal ceremony erases this.
But if we could start from birth and obey all the moral rules from all religions from the "Thou shall nots" to the "Right Livelihood, Right intention", and the "Love your neighbor as yourself," kind of guidelines, we would be putting some mighty good future karma into action.
I am thinking about this in regard to the question from an anonymous reader about who should pay for the medical care and support of the baby boomers. And he/she wonders whether or not the very wealthy should be collecting from the same pot as the very poor and thinks rightly that this is not a sustainable plan. Let me be clear, I know shit about economics. But I do read this and that and I do observe what is going on around me and I do form opinions.
From my side, I have a hard time rejoicing in my good fortune when it is built on the suffering or slavery of others. As I have previously stated, I am not a fan of any of the systems that have been tried in the past and failed miserably, colossally. That would be stupid. I have this hope that we could make a new system. I think it will be incumbent on the young, the people who are not trying to fiddle with failed ways of doing things. As Jesse Jackson said at a United Farm Workers strike against Monsanto in the strawberry fields of Watsonville, CA, "What is wrong with the idea that we pay the workers well, make a safe and healthy product, care for the earth, and still make the stock holders a shit load of money?" There must be a way we can have it all.
The karma of greed, the karma of oppression, the karma of violating others, will come back at us. The good karma that some of us were born with to get good genes, good education, healthy bodies, plenty of food, will be squandered if we can't feed the people who feed us. There is no religion in the world that preaches "me first", "winner takes all", 'get what you can" and the losers can fuck off and die. It wouldn't make sense.
I am interested in any thoughts my readers have about how we can do thing better. I can't make myself think that putting the money under the mattress and having a gun in bed with me would make me feel any happier or more secure. I can't think that bombing or threatening to bomb any peoples who don't tow my line makes me any safer. I hope we are soon coming to a situation which will stimulate some genius, (Not Karl Marx or Mao) to make some sense of this.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Golden Age, Past and Present
A reader asks Julie:
Should everyone over 65 get free medical care? Really? Why?
If you have 5 million? Two million? 1 million maybe. Can't you carry yourself.... Did you really pay so much into the system that you deserve it? How much are you owed?
I don't think the problem is ever scarcity it is distribution. And distribution is connected to our idea of ourselves and others. If we can brag about what we have / and feel good/ money health care/ education/ good genes knowing that someone had to be slave labor to get us here then we are still cavemen. I have a hard time being in a society that derives much of its wealth from killing others even by the seeds we sell let alone the guns and bombs. I am out of step, I think. I am trying often to discover the magic and the hope and the way into a new way of relating. That is why I tell stories about myself and others. I would rather spend my taxes on food stamps than drones. I would rather have fair wages than need food stamps. I would rather have a middle class society than the 1% thing going on now.
You don't need to inflame your audience. It was just an idea to draw people out. however you are for sure sidestepping the question of who pays, by saying in the abstract, there is wealth. Who pays? or is it rather who cares, as long as its not me. I think its that. "Distribution" is a political way of saying theft. When this 'distribution' kicks in, it actually means expropriation (or extreme taxes aka expropriation aka theft). That is the plan - because there is no other plan. For people with kids and grandkids, there is only one answer, they pay. If it can not be paid for, the services can not be provided. If medical care cannot be paid for, then it can not be provided. Certainly costs should be dramatically scaled down, and more care could be provided for fewer dollars. There were actual dollars paid into medicare medicaid, and guess what - that's the available dollars + any growth on those dollars while they were under management, minus any losses or expropriation/theft. Not infinity dollars. Infinity dollars is how we are running everything. Infinity dollars are work not yet done, they are a promise that somebody will take care of it later. They are undermining the credibility of the nation. But the bottom line is there is no free lunch. Somehow our country thinks there is. With luck your generation will never see what you have done/are about to do. My friend said the other day - "we are living in a golden age" and truly, we are. It is a borrowed age. Soon the bill comes due, just as our costs are exponentially exploding, and interest rates start reflecting the very real risk that our currency is after all - just paper. When the interest rates rise - and they are starting to rise a tiny bit (despite the fed buying 85 billion dollars of its own bonds every month - faking demand to depress interest rates), the cost of debt maintenance explodes.
The last golden age was right before the Great Depression. Looking back and reading about that time, there was no Social Security and no Medicare and the plunge seemed to come from the crooks at the top of the heap...on Wall Street. And the very same people garnered all the monetary benefits from the Depression. Amazing how it works. Now the tax system benefits the corporations and the wealthy to such an extent that there is virtually no hope for the middle class. I am not a communist or even a socialist. I am not even a liberal. I am just trying to see if it is humanly possible to create wealth and prosperity without violence against others.
I just read a book about one of the richest men the USA has ever known. (Empty Mansions, Huguette Clark) He owned, among other things a shit load of copper mines in Montana and Arizona. !00 years later we are still paying to clean up the superfund site he created. We are still paying for healthcare for the workers and their descendants who are poisoned by his activities. He, like the Koch brothers, used his money and influence to fight any regulation that might have been for the good of the land or the people who lived there. His daughter lived alone until she died at 104 and spent out the fortune on doll houses. Never felt that she owed society anything. Sad picture.
I welcome this subject. I am interested to have my knowledge and positions challenged and expanded. Keep it coming.
Should everyone over 65 get free medical care? Really? Why?
If you have 5 million? Two million? 1 million maybe. Can't you carry yourself.... Did you really pay so much into the system that you deserve it? How much are you owed?
I don't think the problem is ever scarcity it is distribution. And distribution is connected to our idea of ourselves and others. If we can brag about what we have / and feel good/ money health care/ education/ good genes knowing that someone had to be slave labor to get us here then we are still cavemen. I have a hard time being in a society that derives much of its wealth from killing others even by the seeds we sell let alone the guns and bombs. I am out of step, I think. I am trying often to discover the magic and the hope and the way into a new way of relating. That is why I tell stories about myself and others. I would rather spend my taxes on food stamps than drones. I would rather have fair wages than need food stamps. I would rather have a middle class society than the 1% thing going on now.
You don't need to inflame your audience. It was just an idea to draw people out. however you are for sure sidestepping the question of who pays, by saying in the abstract, there is wealth. Who pays? or is it rather who cares, as long as its not me. I think its that. "Distribution" is a political way of saying theft. When this 'distribution' kicks in, it actually means expropriation (or extreme taxes aka expropriation aka theft). That is the plan - because there is no other plan. For people with kids and grandkids, there is only one answer, they pay. If it can not be paid for, the services can not be provided. If medical care cannot be paid for, then it can not be provided. Certainly costs should be dramatically scaled down, and more care could be provided for fewer dollars. There were actual dollars paid into medicare medicaid, and guess what - that's the available dollars + any growth on those dollars while they were under management, minus any losses or expropriation/theft. Not infinity dollars. Infinity dollars is how we are running everything. Infinity dollars are work not yet done, they are a promise that somebody will take care of it later. They are undermining the credibility of the nation. But the bottom line is there is no free lunch. Somehow our country thinks there is. With luck your generation will never see what you have done/are about to do. My friend said the other day - "we are living in a golden age" and truly, we are. It is a borrowed age. Soon the bill comes due, just as our costs are exponentially exploding, and interest rates start reflecting the very real risk that our currency is after all - just paper. When the interest rates rise - and they are starting to rise a tiny bit (despite the fed buying 85 billion dollars of its own bonds every month - faking demand to depress interest rates), the cost of debt maintenance explodes.
The last golden age was right before the Great Depression. Looking back and reading about that time, there was no Social Security and no Medicare and the plunge seemed to come from the crooks at the top of the heap...on Wall Street. And the very same people garnered all the monetary benefits from the Depression. Amazing how it works. Now the tax system benefits the corporations and the wealthy to such an extent that there is virtually no hope for the middle class. I am not a communist or even a socialist. I am not even a liberal. I am just trying to see if it is humanly possible to create wealth and prosperity without violence against others.
I just read a book about one of the richest men the USA has ever known. (Empty Mansions, Huguette Clark) He owned, among other things a shit load of copper mines in Montana and Arizona. !00 years later we are still paying to clean up the superfund site he created. We are still paying for healthcare for the workers and their descendants who are poisoned by his activities. He, like the Koch brothers, used his money and influence to fight any regulation that might have been for the good of the land or the people who lived there. His daughter lived alone until she died at 104 and spent out the fortune on doll houses. Never felt that she owed society anything. Sad picture.
I welcome this subject. I am interested to have my knowledge and positions challenged and expanded. Keep it coming.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Yoga Progress
Did you see my Turtle to Crow Headstand tape? With my new yoga program, I progressed from beginner watching to this advanced watching in one day. I am much more flexible already.
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