White Eagle

The material world is immaterial. I say this because of its impermanence. If you think about it, you have to end up with the old saw, "You can't take it with you." I am not saying that things don't have importance. I am for beauty, for art, for comfort, for ease of life. I have no ambition for us to be cavemen. But I am also very conservative in this point of view. I believe in conserving nature, conserving natural resources, conserving harmonious cultures, conserving peace of mind.

But anything taken to extreme is too weird for my brand of conservatism. In Ashland, Oregon, USA where I have been living, the town has a ghetto look in many neighborhoods. To me eyes, this is because everyone has built a big tall wood fence around their little piece of earth. The fences have many ostensible reasons; to keep the deer out, to keep the dog in, to give privacy, to block out the views of neighbors. To my eyes, it looks ghetto. The next step, I suppose is the gated town, looking much like a modern version of a medieval walled city. Keep the enemy at bay. Keep your goods to yourself. Keep out the plague.

Historically, it didn't work out very well. Now, with The Fence on the Rio Grande we are starting this on a national level. It still ends up looking ghetto to me and it still doesn't seem to offer much protection in the long run.

 When you die it is very possible that your kids or some stranger cleaning out your house will say, "Throw that piece of crap in the dumpster." If we cared more for each other, there could never exist the inequalities that make everybody who doesn't have as much a you a threat to your peace of mind. It might call for fewer fences, alarm systems, jails, cops, less military spending. Where do we start?

I think we start by contemplating what White Eagle said, "Everything is Spirit, and Spirit is triumphant over matter." What can you take with you and what can you leave behind? Things that are imbued with spirit have a bit of eternity in them; a temple, a painting, a natural wonder, a sunset, a poem. The body goes to the trash heap, but the spirit is eternal. Let's work to make it worthy.