They don’t love him because he speaks for them, or because he entertains them.
They love him because through him they deploy the only strategy that seems to work any longer – the strategy of terror.
“Take care of us or we’ll blow our country up.”
Ignited by anger, driven by fear. The worse the corruption and criminality, the more heartened his supporters. They glory in the hand-wringing and hypocrisy of legislators and judges who step into line to ratify his conduct.
Through him they have power. They have meaning. They are seen. People have to pay attention.
We are become our own enemy. And the Madih resting at the bottom of the Indian Ocean smiles in delight.
We are learning to love
We are each other’s teachers
Mistakes are inevitable, and ancient patterns are hard to break
Joy and sorrow are the only signposts, and
The biggest, most painful lie is that we need to be perfect to get to heaven
For love is constantly guiding us to new experiences, and
We cannot learn without making mistakes
Heaven is a place where we don’t have to hide our wounds
But reveal them so that others can have the grace of healing us
For a wound is an opening in the self
A possibility demanding our attention
The hunger of another for love.
Spent a fair portion of the day yesterday in the Santa Clarita area. Both church services I attended focused on Thursday’s events at Saugus High School. When I returned at 7 PM for the vigil in Central Park, the park was packed with people – I ended up standing 200 or more feet from the stage.
I did the best that I could to support the speakers, several of whom teetered on the edge of emotional collapse.
I was heartened that both of the deceased children were memorialized. I’ve been to several cities after such shootings, and this was the first time the shooter was remembered as a loving, active presence in the community. I consider it a huge step forward.
Those of you who have followed my blog will have noticed that I have gone silent. In part this reflects a shift in focus: I’m still producing creative material out at Hypnosis Rising. But the work that I began here continues, it’s just shifted into another phase.
So why not continue writing here?
It’s not that there’s no point to the writing.
So what was the point?
Around sixteen, I placed love at the center of my intellectual universe. Listening to the confused public discourse of the ’70s, as splintering demographics set out to stake out their rights and privileges, I realized that the word had become degraded. So I set out to reclaim it.
What I realize now is how critical that decision was to my intellectual growth. We can either wrestle ideas into our service or we can facilitate their interaction. Any serious attempt to assess the material here will confront its astonishing breadth and depth. I know, because when I have free time and go back and look at it, I am flummoxed. Where did all of this come from?
Well, it came from ideas that were allowed to seek their natural place in the service of love. To understand that statement, I guess I should clarify that I see ideas as little angels. I don’t try to force them into my possession, I allow them to use my brain as a means of reorganizing themselves. They seem to enjoy working with me.
So to explain my silence: I don’t write because I can no longer see the borders of the universe that they have formed around me. They seem satisfied with what we have accomplished. No, “satisfied” is too weak. They are joyous.
Unfortunately, we live in an era that uses mass communication to suborn ideas to the end of self-promotion. That practice chews away at the periphery of my intellect. Most of my energy is spent holding the chaos at bay.
For those familiar with the phrase, “the center will hold.” The events will probably surprise you as they unfold. I point you to Martin Luther King Jr.’s last speech. I’m not about to allow those that control the mechanism of exchange to pollute my intellect, nor will I cede our power to them. Instead I pity them, for in attempting to do either (as proven in “Love Works”) they destroy themselves.
They subscribe to the prerogatives of selfishness and the outcomes of Death. I have chosen Love and Life.
After describing the manifestation of the Tree of Life, I concluded with the rhetorical question “What comes next?”
I went back to LA Ecstatic Dance on the 19th. We had a great warm-up workshop on full contact improv. When allowed the initiative to establish contact, I found all my partners smiling enthusiastically, but when waiting for contact, found myself passed by.
During the dance experience, I did my usual work. It’s high-energy and not really meant for participatory engagement, but I always enjoy those moments when a lady of substance calms the waters – I’ll freeze in place, hands cupped in front of me, anchoring the energies I’ve raised in the Earth until she passes by.
Usually I’ll find someone to interact with more deeply, but something held me back. Finally, I pulled the Tree out of the ground, pressing the populated branches into the sky.
And then gathered it up and set it for safeguarding in my heart…
Driving home, I realized that I’ve done it – I’ve completed the work I was set for this lifetime. All that remains is to carry it back to heaven – intact.
Awakening at 4 AM I began the drive up to Sunnyvale, the way point on my journey to Berkeley for Greg’s graduation. As I drove along the coast outside Ventura, the full moon greeted me, casting its homage to the sun on the darkened waters. She was so pleased with me – just a real joy flowing forth. So I stopped at Carpenteria to snap this photo.
Is that Venus hiding in her skirts? Sweet promise!
I haven’t succeeded on human terms – that will certainly be said. But after so many sterile years offering truth to humanity, I’ve lost my attachment to your recognition. I work for my Abba – and my reward is the joy of the goddess that honors me.