Archive | September 2010

Overland Park, Kan. – Chronically Ill, and Covered – NYTimes.com

Overland Park, Kan. – Chronically Ill, and Covered – NYTimes.com.

So I can’t help but feel that this is so backwards.  There are questions like:  Should a child be denied health care because they don’t have enough money?  Should someone who is not sick be forced to pay for someone who is?  If insurers can charge whatever they choose to add previously denied children to policies doesn’t that make those children, still, un-insurable?

The first two questions are questions of philosophy and about how we all want to live together.  The third question is more of an indictment of our politicians, the insurance companies and the media.

Is there anyone who feels that a child, meaning someone who has been brought into the world as an effect of the choice of two “adults” should be denied health care?  The child has no money making capacity, and for practical purposes didn’t choose his or her familial situation.  Who thinks a sick child should be simply left, unattended?  I would bet not many.

So what’s the problem?  Well aside from the fact that the whole thing is basically political and strategic posturing and that the priority is not helping children but making popular laws and insuring that the companies that contribute to election campaigns are taken care of…there is the problem of process.

Process.  Because most of us agree that a child shouldn’t be turned down for health care doesn’t mean that someone else should be forced to pay for that child.  The evil that exists by trying to make those two ideas congruent is this:  It assumes that human nature is evil, it assumes that if left to our own devices human beings would not take care of children without the threat or imposition of force.  That is the bottom line.  The people and yes these are real people representing you and me, when the people who make these laws go to bed at night they are fearful for their lives, they think everyone is out to get them, they think that if the world was left without significant government imposition it would devolve into chaos.  They think that they are the arbiters of goodness, justice and humanity when what they are is the opposite.

Our species has been on the planet long before the politicians, long before CAT scans, long before laws, long before insurance companies, long before taxes.  We survived.  We are still here.  How impossibly arrogant is it that the people who are making these rules think that without the rules (essentially without them) our humanity would be left to it’s natural state of rottenness.  This is because rotten is how they feel about their own humanity.  And the effect of what they are doing, the effect of these laws by the end of a gun are to separate us from our humanity – that’s what is happening.  We are no longer required to think about what it means to be human, what it means to be compassionate, what it means to care for someone.  We don’t have to do it anymore because others are doing it for us.  Or at least they are “saying” that they will do it for us.

This article is an example of the destruction of the human spirit and it’s replacement of humanity with law.

Fathers and Sons

I – Sons

When the deepening occurs

you are seated, once again

for the first time – familiar-.

Yet no sense, no thought nor emotion

would have ever held the potency

for this.

Fears evaporated like water (and, if not mindful, others will replace them)

But for now the vapor is cause for amusement

and learning

and after oceans have dissapeared

you can walk along the sea bed

and wander – wonder

at what was always there, underneath.

Ahhh but what, what could be this heat

that makes an ocean inconsequential.

What must this scorching heat be –

oceans turned to dust.

And the shells that are left glitter

luminescent,

irridescent

intent unchanged.

Don’t be fooled…although the sun sets

and the waves lap easily

the oceans beauty betrays the fearful,

the real beauty is the solid rock below.

Ohhh what tremendous fire ball cooks the betrayer

turning to dust all that is not rock and solid

while glittering, simple things lie

as they always have

in complete

perfection

and peace

at the bottom.

What ferocious flame.

What size of sun.

What Herculean Heat

is responsible

for bringing what has been hidden

into view.

II – Fathers

I don’t understand how one man could kill another

once he has looked into the eyes of his son,

into the eyes of the woman who is and has given him.

Perhaps if the child is taken by force,

perhaps.

But how.

-are these childless men that celebrate death by force-

We only live in our world

and in mine I am changed, deepened.

How does a father begin to murder.

This questions is new and the answer

doesn’t come to me

and I don’t know.

In my world there is no murder – only gifts

gifts that have struck me dumber

awakened me from my slumber,

the number of times I’ve closed my eyes

and the lies and furrowed sighs

and alibies

fall away as I rise

to meet the giant that is my son.

And as I stand and stretch and reach

to hold myself up to him

I feel my body, my foundation, my glittering

priceless things shaking with humility

at what lies directly in front of me.

My Son

-I think-

and I weep like the child I once was.

My Son

-I think-

and I put down the guns and the allow

the fortress to be vaporized with all the rest.

My Son

-I think-

I allow myself to be defeated

and I look into my smiling and bursting heart

and see My Son.

A snarling dog

Is all that I have left
my base is now what used to be my protection
“scream”
“SCREAM”
SCREAM!
there is nothing below
and the illusions have all been eaten
I am full in my head
but hungry in my soul
for blood
the blood of the betrayers
the blood of the betrayers
something in me tries
to look at the grass
and trees
and to see the reasonableness
of nature
but as soon as there is a light tap
on my shoulder
I wheel
snarling
teeth exposed and gnashing
against air
and hoping for flesh
and spittle flies
and my desire comforts me
and feeds my furious hunger
gnashing
yellow
teeth
like daggers
my eyes roll back
and I allow myself to be consumed

Peter Welch is the Leader of the Dead…And I Need To Chill

Peter Welch is the leader of …what is it, I can’t even name it and if I can’t name it how could I write about it.  I guess I’ll try.

He leads people who want the government to take care of everything, he leads people who have given up their belief in the human spirit…he leads the dead.

Peter Welch is a leader of the dead, disguising the bottom of the barrel as the cream of the crop, celebrating the death of innovation with manufactured progress and strangling the human spirit with his relentless assumption that he follows the righteous path.  He is the worst we have to offer because he is a strategist and his main strategy is to be popular, which if he succeeds will end up getting him re-elected and maybe even a seat in a higher level office.  There seems to be almost no escape from his agenda and in fact more an more each sloganized, shrink wrapped, sterilized idea he promotes is met by louder and louder cheers from a populace that I have become convinced is lobotomized by comfort and like a sex fiend celebrates even the inkling of a pleasurable impact on themselves without regard for principle, ethics or the human spirit.  I have been and continue to be fully and violently disgusted that the people of Vermont celebrate Peter Welch and what he represents in the world.

So now that I’ve got that off my chest, what does a person do about this.  What does a person who cares enough to read and write about Peter Welch do, what action is to be taken in response to this vision, this strategist, this usurper of the last bit of human good

Maybe putting down the indignation for a while and writing about love is a good idea.

My Son, You Are Sleeping

It’s 10:45 now and you are sputtering like a motor boat.  I’ve put you down to sleep instead of carrying you around because it didn’t seem like you wanted to be held.  You got quiet, found your thumb and rested for about 5 minute before becoming more restless and now I am close to picking you up again.  I am discovering the transition between holding and walking you to sleep and letting you find it on your own.  I have not found it yet nor have you.

Mom has gotten up now as your cries become louder, she wants to rub your back, she is rubbing but it is not helping…you are getting more upset.

Then I picked you up and you settled into me.  We could tell you were tired by your cry, like wanting to give up – it was a surrendering cry, not a hungry or agitated cry – those cry’s crescendo and build – the tired cry loses steam quickly and although it can be loud it doesn’t maintain strength.

I walked you and held you close to me but not too close because you like to have your space, you like to dictate when it is you will act, you don’t like to be forced, and who does.  I try to be conscious of this.  I held you close and spoke to you about being the one (with mommy) that can help you transition, that can help you to relax.  I told you it was safe for you, safe to sleep, that I had you and it was ok, all the time walking slowly and gently bouncing my body to give you some rhythm.  It didn’t take long – your eyes stayed wide for a bit, but within 5 minutes you had given up, we had both won, sleep had come, you had released yourself from the excitement of the day and allowed your little body to breath and rest and regain it’s strength.  What a wonder you are to me my son, I have never seen or experienced anything so beautiful in all my life, there is nothing close, nothing that speaks to me like you, nothing that allows me to see more deeply into my soul and my being than you.  I am in awe of you and I am your caretaker.  My son, my son – you are sleeping.

The Reason for “An American Father”

Fatherhood is knowing yourself

fatherhood is accepting yourself

it is the safety of strong arms

in the introduction to strong winds

Can I write a newsletter about fatherhood and what it means in the world?  How can I write about what it means in the world if I don’t know what it means to me.  Fatherhood to me is a responsibility to be better, it’s is the only true second chance in life.  It is the allowance, no, the catalyst for the refreshment of your soul, your innocence, your spirit, your truth, your peace.  Can you have those things apart from fatherhood, of course.  Refreshment is the word.  Whether your world has become dull and bleak or whether you live in full light or somewhere in between Fatherhood is the best reason to start over…

Which begs the question why?  Why not start over without being a father, before being a father, having never been a father?  What do you have with fatherhood that you don’t have without it?  A child.  But what is a child…

A child is the product of two people’s love for themselves and for life

A child is the product of sex

a child is the product of two peoples pleasure

A child is the product of a sperm meeting an egg

So what transforms the biological

to the psychological

to the philosophical

How does the cellular mass that is a sperm

and the cellular mass that is an egg

transform

to the child that smiles at me.

It’s is the answer of all questions…

it is the only answer of life…

the first answer

survival

Does a mother bird think her offspring

adorable

Does a baby lizard

coo to his mother

What is the endearment?

Live Like A Live Wire

Live like a live wire

Something funny while eating cereal

toasted O’s in plastic and cardboard

I realized how I allow the lies

and how I shape them into my sculpture

So I sat and wrote about it, after finishing

I wrote about my story and my dreams

At how completely I have allowed myself

the compromises that layered, like liquid amber

the stories of my life, each layer hardening

before another is laid down, lies, compromise

just a little, a little more

and the hard shell makes it hard to go back

Like a bee trying to escape through a closed window

I hit my head, I hit my head, I hit my head

but unlike the bee

I eventually give up and turn away from the light

and when that happens all that is left is the

fluorescents of my mind

and the bountiful hallways of concrete and steel

bountiful is part of the compromise, lies

Live like a live wire – and how is that

I ask – a live wire is fire and twisting energy

shooting electrics and sparks and hiss and pop

and unable to be contained and impossible to be contained

and so then I dreamt again of a part of me

that had grown tired of life, after working so hard

to not be tired and working and working

that part of me committed suicide in my dream

Live like a live wire – I now think to myself

and glance in my mind like a voracious tiger

at the paper and fabrication all around me

at my glass house in which I have been quietly

and diligently seated, it’s not about making noise

for sure, it’s about living like a live wire

there is no way the flammable walls can hold

up against the flying sparks and besides

it has nothing to do with the walls anyway.

Perfidy Perfection

I am the architect of life

the shaper of the source

the cause of all effects

there is nothing more to pay

attention to

nothing more to capture

there is no more search

look down

and accept the majesty

and welcome it’s warmth

different than anything you’ve felt

it comes from a sacred place

like a cave in the ocean cliffs

unexplored

but glimpsed

like a clearing

in a dense wood

there is power there

the only power

real power

but

look away and up

and strive

and allow your ambition

to condition

your volition

there is no mission

is the point

or at least

no mission as we understand it

what is the drive to perfection

what is the denial of ourselves

and the true source of perfection

how do you try to perfect

the perfect

immediate is the destruction

look up and away

turning eyes to the sky

and imagination and thought

and withdrawal

and journey

without the self

and imagine

and hope

and expect

and predict

and plan

immediate is the destruction

ahh but therein lies the joke

once imagined always imagined

and the burning houses of our souls

are only like the

fluttering mirage

of water or heat

and none the less we run from it

as if there was somewhere else to go

instead of  staying

and being consumed

and seeing the flames around us

become like flowers

or poetry

turning our eyes downward

in our arms we hold the best

and only

perfection.

I’m Gonna Hold on that Action

There were two men talking about the end of society

one man said

“our civilization, today, is like a scorpion, it’s only response to adversity is to sting”

A baby coo’d to his mother

We are meant to love

in the beauty of relationship

to experience ourselves

all else is distraction

-nothing else

do you pay attention

answer that question

either distraction or fulfillment

do you pay attention

while you build the building

and develop the cure

and micro the wave

and tiny the chip

come back to yourself

you have strayed

ambition

for good

or evil

is still a departure

no matter how great

or depraved

a building

or a killing

is still a departure

and ohh how we have striven

to attain

and punish

reaching out and forgetting ourselves

until again

in the shadow

we remember

the shadow

and that’s if we’re lucky

and then our reward becomes

misery

and sometimes death

always pre-meditated

whether we know it or not

just look around at all the distraction

our quest for perfection

in line and form

so immature

the only difference

is that we do not wet our pants

(as much) today

strive and strive to be alive

and erect and protect

avoid the noose on the neck

look at all the distraction

call it progress

silly silly humans

silly silly

curing and caring and sharing

and building and willing

and milling about

with no doubt

I shout

“olllllly fucking hell”

from the top of my bottom

“ahghhh”

“FUCK” I say

in pure Glor-ay

pure gloray

but “fuck”

look around at all the distraction

I’m gonna hold  on that action

hold I say

hold

A Baby At Rest

A baby at rest tends to stay at rest

at least until he doesn’t

but when encountering a baby at

rest

any attempt to better the situation

of rest

will be met

most likely

with violent unrest at worst

and at best

you risk the rest

A baby at rest is best

left at rest

it is a situation that cannot be improved upon

Elan Mudrow

Smidgens

Bitter Gertrude

Blogging about Theatre and Culture since 2013

Engage!

Critical Dharma for Thinking Minds

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Josep Goded

Seeking Truth

LYNCH

:to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal approval or permission

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