Raining in My Heart

And now, my dearest allies, those people who visit and leave a multitude of feelings, inspirations and personal thoughts and connections - for which I am always so grateful, people from near and far who read here for whatever reasons and leave without commenting, but take away something helpful or consoling with them on their journeys, we come together again because its time.

We are weak and on our knees simply trying to comprehend the accelerating suffering from coast to coast and country to country which, as we have known has been simmering for centuries and now reaches the boiling point. 

Since I was a little yout, I never got the "why" part. Why beat down the downtrodden? Why create circumstances to deliberately divide us? Why make hard that which is naturally easy, what was it, what is it, they can't see?  It follows, of course, that those early years would not have been smooth.  But still, they formed me and were imbedded more deeply every  single day in one way or another. My crime was holding ideals that differed radically from too many others' ideals, that is, if they held any genuine ideals at all.

I can't say I've changed much in that category. Truth always mattered more, although it commonly comes at a high price.  One must be able to convince the medium from which truth comes to you that you will accept it with no repercussions, an impossible feat. The first repercussion is your normal curiosity for truth.  And curiosity makes you think which makes you feel a way.  It can not be helped.

I am sure anyone reading here already knew the repulsive truth about torture many years back. They thought we would forget it with the passing of time, our attention long diverted with school shootings, cyber hackings, privacy leaks and abject consumerism as if "all that was so then" in the same way Bill Cosby might think about his past behaviors. Only now we are presented with a damning report years after the fact and already its  being run through the dairy queen dispener. Yes, its Christmas under the tree for the damage control industry which are as you know, ruthless professionals in Timing is Everything whose hands are permanently stained with the stigmata of global misery.  Instead of apology they race to deny.  They threw this report at us to get those criminal, lippy protestors to knock it off by shifting the spotlight. We're in Present Shock, remember?  Where everything happens at once?

I can't breathe.

I want to speak to them directly and let them know WE can't breathe.  We can't eat, we can't speak. We can't live, we can't weep because we know their stock in trade and brace ourselves while inside our tortured hearts we are praying they get hip.

But you know, they don't see it that way.  They have a vision that they are untouchable, a uniquely superior example of our species, a more perfect person.  So remarkably special, revered and powerful, so right, so clean in conscience, communication of any sort with the slightest potential truth might accidentally slip out is not allowed.  It appears truth was made illegal and the ruling kept secret because damage management was on vacation in some private blackjack suite high above the golden avenues of Fat City. 

The divide is wider than the distance between Mother Earth and Uranus which means it is extremely unlikely we will see any of these white face Ken dolls fess up and get with the program.

The program, (you know the program, you are the program)  is and always has been DO NO HARM.  There are a million, billion, trillion subheads under that title, including all sizes and manner of beautiful, truly Godly acts of compassion and seva.

I will make it simple for them by saying truthfully,  all they have to do is recognize we are all one. Yes! Pan Species Diversity. Without the game, we're all the same. We breathe as one.

There is nothing, NOTHING, less than  absolute ZERO, ever to be gained by allowing ignorant prejudice, vanity and testosterone fueled anguish to dictate action.


Raining in My Heart:
Post title from The Best of Slim Harpo
Excello Records, recorded: Crowley, Louisiana, 
November 1960
Photo c. Yahoo/Pinterest

picking up where we left off...

On the same page as our beloved and insightful, tell-it-like-it-is friend, Bho, I ask you who among us who does not feel the craziest days and nights of all time past and to come, are heaving themselves in front of us - so that we are forced against our will to feel the hot, foul breath of the beast, the stink of his burnt tongue from slurping the fires of Hell?  We are just simple people, never asking for, never imagining, never looking for the House of Horrors on a bright, sunny afternoon kicking back in essex green Adirondack chairs on the deck overlooking the perfect beauty of Nature.  I began to count concurrent events before my hiatus, but the events rolled themselves into what began as a series of global news stories, each international, previously unheard of www.slime.rag on overtime pushing details regardless how insignificant, or false, designed purely to inspire fear and loathing, and quickly grew into a Ripley's Believe it or Not, including immediate placement in the Guinness Book of Gargantuan, Stupid and Hypocritical Earth Shattering Records.  Now, today, and for evermore, in our remaining times among the living, a monster ball of dung trails the slouching beast, growing larger and heavier, squatting on our sad blue planet, surely she, blameless, is weeping tonight. 

But her wrath is sly, her rope unlimited and she allows the Hominid species to simply hang themselves. 

If you been readin' the news pages on your device of choice, you know what I'm sayin'.
 
It goes without question, life is about learning.  We who are aware we are always learning and accept what we experience as a teaching moment, good or bad, are able to draw on those lessons because these lessons are integral (our nature) and lifelong.  If those experiences are perceived without overstanding, or fleeting, or just never acknowledged at all, where would you be now?  Probably in a maximum security prison of your own making, certain you are innocent of whatever crime that put you there, you were just going along, caught up in your materialist fantasy, accepting of your entire current life situation on the Great Plantation when WHAM.  Something happened, could be anything, you know, but you don't know what happened because responsibility of any sort was never in your vernacular.

I didn't come into this observation recently.  It seems to grow in league with population stats so that everything strongly disagreeable, ridiculous, backwards, tragic, corrupt and evil multiplied exponentially, which should mean the antithesis multiplied exponentially also, but no, it did not happen as the TAO explains the natural balance of beauty and ugliness.  It meant instead, the heinous acts of the Yang overlapped its boundary into the Yin, in doing so, the balance undone, quaked, the axis spins wildly out of control.  One could, if mathematically inclined, actually calculate where all of this is going since it continues, unabated, nothing at all on the horizon impeding its excesses. 

Sometimes we wonder how it came to be this way in the spare moments between events.  Is it genetic imbecility or is it unabated narcissism?  Or is it both and more?  I don't completely count out otherworldly.  Are we merely a proving ground, a coliseum for hostile aliens?
 
... Intermission for Meditation ...

Far away, in another land, a tropical dream where the overseers are right on the edge of legalizing weed for religious purposes, our Rasta continues to build his paradise where on warm, silvery nights you can see the moon looking into his door.

Snowjob

I can’t tell you for sure if the Snowden incident actually happened, I can tell you only vague highlights (think headlights in a thick fog - at night), that you already know and I can also tell you whatever happened didn’t happen in the way it is being presented.  Really now, where’d they get this guy?  Was he cloned and trained just for this moment in time or lured off death row by the promise of a holiday in Hong Kong?  The same applies to nearly everything, maybe all, that has been cultivated, packaged and consumed without having any factual information on what it is exactly that you are ingesting, as if reader content is just more pink slime, as if sand men running around the dunes carried out … well you know, as if that was the beginning of the end of happier days which it was not, impossibly so, from any angle.  The point being we have become inured to these stories because we‘ve been around this block before, it’s the same old song lip synched by the same lame band, pseudo vocalists who appear to us as simple minded in that they repeat themselves ad nauseam.  Have they never heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?  However, each time the wolf snarls, it could very well be a real wolf, except, well, as I said, we’re inured.  How long has this been going on?  Surely you haven’t forgotten Choicepoint?  So why are we being subjected again to threats upon our sacred secrecy policies that are not exactly secret at all?  There could only be one explanation which is, apparently, we are not yet completely in lockstep with created reality.   To the masterminds of heroic murder fiction and spy thrillers, we appear disinterested.  YES!  I realize its hard to grasp such a thing, but no one in their right mind wants to pick up the same book over and over again, unless it’s a Henry James or Chinua Achebe work of exquisite art where every word in every sentence conjures revelation and imagery both good and evil and invites ardent study in order to grasp the full poignancy and utter foolishness of the human species.   Certainly this is yet another good reason to wear earplugs and blinders, the self-styled masters behind these phenomena have to be unable to hire better writers at any price and to any literate person, appear oblivious, which means they like it that way in the same way they like their Chateaubriand.  Perhaps they fell for slick presentations from the slickest of the slick PR/Damage control/Crisis Management consultants all of whom turned out to be duds when what is perceived as an exciting, lucrative, all time best selling crisis by our death-match secret keepers is casually treated with recycled product messages such as Swine Flu at the Podium, Bin Laden Deepsix or Bush Drops From the Sky as Jesus in Flackwear.  Besides, there is so much else going on, every day, wonderful and atrocious, we no longer have the time, interest or desire to freak out.  It is a fact of life in our overproduced and counterproductive environment, the human being’s natural defense mechanism is activated to turn away from that which causes anguish, suffering, harm and pain. Our lives are local and in local territory there are unwritten rules of genial conformity tempered with much compassion largely adhered to with an exception here and there.  Normal people don’t speak in acronyms or define whatever it is they’re pushing with MIC-speak.  Normal people have no way to translate journalists’ dialogue filled with words and statements such as breached, intelligence and leak and the overused unclear, "It remains unclear due to ongoing..."  The meaning behind this language is completely lost on vast numbers of citizens, it simply is not in their vernacular.

What is truth for locals are hourly wages, food on the table and their children.  As much as I detest this city, its dirt and its ubiquitous evil, equally I love the diversity.  From my observation, the US born white guy is the minority here.  Of course, it is that very diversity that is the spinal cord buttressing the local monoculture of obscene wealth in wanton ignorance to the outside world and its ongoing disasters just as blood circulation is to the heart.  As far as that monoculture is concerned why should they care either?  They, too, are busy with their own version of local.  They care only to the extent of returns on the dollar.

It seems the only people(?) that are having hissies over the current revival, Its Snowing in Snowden, are the producers and their agents.  There is a point, of that we can be sure, why such events take place and are, as you have noticed, escalating and that point is M-o-n-e-y.  You might disagree, but power and control are expensive products to maintain and to insure their viability into the far future. 

If you haven’t been keeping up with Arthur Silber’s takes on this issue, you are missing the best thinking and writing available anywhere. 
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Bulletin: The Trout Clan will shortly be making public, visually, their astounding recovery progress.  It’s a mighty thing to behold.  Stay tuned for their next post.  I will be linking to them onblog to make sure all of you have the opportunity to see what hard work, love of the land and love of life itself can do.   Residents of Tornado Alley and regions prone to wildland fire will be especially interested.