Monthly Archives: November 2012

Thanksgiving, Schmanksgiving

Thanksgiving, Schmanksgiving

“I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.” –Jon Stewart

It’s the beastliest of holidays.

Seriously. What culture in their right mind invades a foreign territory halfway across the globe, massacres and demoralizes its inhabitants — presuming some self-proclaimed entitlement, sequestering ownership of the land (and authority over its people) at all costs? What kind of people create some soulless endeavor entitled “Manifest Destiny,” whereby thousands upon thousands of indigenous people (the ones fortunate enough to have evaded outright slaughter) are driven out of their homeland and into inhospitable circumstances… All in the name of patriotism, and worse… religious freedom?
(Has anyone considered what our heritage might look like to the rest of the world? What kind of supposed “destiny” creates a very real Trail of Tears?)

And after all is said and done, these triumphant ladies and gentlemen — the steadfast pioneers, having notoriously manifested their own mindless, careless destiny — resolve to end this horrific venture with a celebratory feast, masquerading as a gracious gesture of peace towards the few remaining victims of their conquest for totalitarian “freedom”. And adding insult to injury, the victors call this massive “SAVAGE” defeat party uh… I mean, peace offering… THANKSGIVING??

Ooh… I said a bad word. I said that word because we should be somewhat outraged, instead of oblivious. We ought to feel disgusted by the truth of our own past. I am not Native American, but it deeply offends me no less — as it should.

I can’t quite imagine the transition, however. “Hey, thanks for dying so bravely. Sorry we murdered your family. We really appreciate your humiliated surrender. It’s not personal, you know; we just decided you don’t deserve your home as much as we do. We want to worship God our own way, and we needed a new place to do that without fear of persecution; I’m sure you can understand. Let’s just be friends, okay? No need to hold grudges. Happy Thanksgiving! Can you pass the bread?”

…Who does that?

I celebrate Thanksgiving, and I am sincerely grateful there is a national holiday honoring the observance of a collective gratitude. But has everyone forgotten how Thanksgiving came about?

I do not feel thankful for our ancestor’s ruthless, evil behavior. And I am unashamed to say so.

I am, however, immensely grateful for the many freedoms I enjoy, thanks to the countless men and women who so bravely go before me to keep those freedoms forever in place. There is no way to articulate just how grateful I am for that.

I am unspeakably thankful I live in a country where as a woman, I am allowed to research my country’s more accurate history whenever the indoctrinated nonsense doesn’t sit right with my soul. I’m grateful — so grateful — that I am allowed to express my deep distaste of the truths I occasionally discover, without fear of some sinister retaliation against me for speaking what I find, and how the findings make me feel.

And most of all, I’m just grateful I’m an American — despite the unimaginable mistakes we’ve made as a country; despite unforseeable horrors that are surely bound to come; still, no matter what, I am proud — and humbly thankful — of my own unique (yet common) heritage. I’m part of a people who desire to know more; who consistently seek out the less obvious facts about our collective becoming; who rise above the ashes and seek a better way of life for the ones in lesser privileged circumstances. For all these things, and so many more, today… I will be thankful.

Today, I will be cooking my happiest self into a haywired frenzy; listening to beautiful music and enjoying my incredible kids and my family, and celebrating our freedom to celebrate. I’ll feel thankful for our right to give thanks, and live together in peace. But I encourage all of you to take advantage of this moment in time, and make it meaningful. Don’t just go through the motions; let this Thanksgiving become significant somehow. Take a breath from the mayhem and madness of families gone wild, and allow yourself to feel gratitude, as you speak of it. Embrace an awakened sense of sincere emotion when you share in the giving of thanks. Remind yourself what matters most today, and cherish it. It might be gone tomorrow; no day is ever promised.

I dare you.


In the Name Of

In the Name Of

This day happened
To be or not to be
A maiden, made in honor
with no “adjective-ever-after”
at the wave of some magic wand

I see the light, the truth, the way
The sky’s reflection kissed the pond
The lake the sea the rivers too
The ocean’s heavy mystic view

And all this life could have to offer
Turns the furnace off and on
and off, and on,
But what has got her?
Cat and mouse, who gets the tongue?
Winner lose or loser won?
Sometimes sometwo something one.

Seasons changed. (You having fun?)
Acquiescence: season’s seamstress

So it seems
She’s knack-ful
when it comes to these
same once-again-
and-tell-me-what-comes-next-type things

She sews with surgeon hands, the autumn’s rainbows to their grave
A charcoal slate array of shades
with every depth of gray’s dismay

And every up-sent thing comes down
It does and will, eventually
To those, of course, who’d never see
a single thing


A reverent captivity
of world-bound laws like gravity
(We hang our heads to pray and cry
those tears of joy beseeched by lies)
Lower falls then, everything
Than hoped for from the start

Karma, physics. Science, art.
The wheels on the bus go round and round

The head will never know the heart

Time keeps marching
and distincting
lifetimes of forgotten dreams
The frays
unravel at the seems
(A task she never asked for)

Blankets cannot warm the things
they only aim to
(I’m older but I’m bolder and I fancy the affection)

So this, “A Tribute To Our Winter.”
Pierce, pull through
We pierce, pull through
The girl, she whispers
Ooooo, yes ooooo

It really makes me wonder

Speak now nothing
of November
Should no heart
then be dismembered
Try again
I try again
but somehow won’t return to Sender
Post and Master
— who this be —
has seemed no bearing over me
and where my feet might take me


We bend the knees to learn to stand

Dive and sky both open wider
Than the cat had warned me
Than the lowered flag half-mast
Can cast away the grief beside her

For pomp, of course, and circumstance
The widowed bell no longer tolls

Unspeakable humility
Has suddened its arrival: Sold.
A Purposeful Revival
Of an inner kind of strength;
stretched across the lonesome length
of hands that never once were held
But staked.

A claim;
A frozen sacrifice
to cover all our sins in faith
Announcing “It is finished”
So at last it could begin

(press play)

And all the while the seamstress smiles for what her hands have power to do
Threading thoughts in rhythm — out — and yet they’re never threaded through
I’ve sown the seeds of pure surrender, stitching seams (with “humble” rendered)
Sunsets weep? I tuck-fold-stitch. The air feels ouch? I duck-roll-ditch.

Stop and drop it
Stop and drop it
Journeys of one single step
Begin one thousand miles, child

What is righteous? What is this?
What is forward? Silence: bliss.

Clowns are frowning
“Smile, Miss.”
Placing bets (a galliant gander)
Frogs and wide-eyed girls might kiss
Sights and sun shall both soon set
And just how dark can darkness get?

“But all you’ve ever done is run. You’ve spent your whole life running.”

Mama heard a Beatles song
Of happiness and other lies
I’ll run, alright. Goodbye, Surprise.

Run until the wheels fall off; at last quit spinning in the sky
These time perceptions, mighty sons
Will never ask me where or why
And in my adding one to One
I equaled how it feels to won

My prerogative
and my plight
But yes, of course
That blazing sun
Still shines upon this broken earth
…Oh thine can only wander

(The boots were made for walking
One fine day that’s what they’ll do)
Going farther
Reaching higher
Learning things they never knew

(What are little girls made of?)
Balls of steel; these words are true

What a lonely point of view
The old heart blinded; black and blue
And seeing nothing of the trees,
enchanted forest on its knees
And last limb
too soon sadly falls
Yet Wisdom brings
— yes Wisdom calls —
Us children, all
of majesty
Clandestined, to our destiny

We echo back
Then forth — a clue —
(and back and forth)
From under you

Love is tired of its chores
Umbilical umbrella chord.

It’s whispered wind from ancient dreams
And dancing joy into the trees

His sword that slices is the Truth
His thirst is quenching; He will do
To satisfy this sense of pride;
In Him alone I shall abide
I lay me down
I fall asleep
…arrival, peace and


The night that swallowed yesterday had threatened my demising
And horizons went on strike
Before the dawn resisted rising

In revolt against surrender

Body Mind
And Soul — a blender–
Leave no room
To think it over
When the thinking
is as thinking does
Permission won’t be tender

Never gentle, never was
That spaceship’s blast
A full contender;
Take-off takes no circumstance
To lift the view from off the ground
The barriers
The hollow sound
The mirror weeps with laughter now

So here we are
— no place at all —
Just room for stretching
Growing tall
And I will spend all morning
Watching how the
God once gave me
Wrestle, think, and laugh, and talk
We go for walks, we go for walks.

They speak unspoken wisdoms
With these the simple syllogisms
Hypotheticals unreasoned
By that which the world deduced

Love is breathing, it is true
And sometimes ‘breathe’ is all we do

Breathing keeps the body’s life
But air, the soul, will satisfy

And this is life,
I can’t deny
But there’s a light within;

It’s mine

We measure grace
We measure time
But infinite can feel sublime

As for today:
The Son will shine

And teach our spirits
— Thee and thine —
A sing-now, holy hymn again
This pure vibration rushing in
with huge momentum
Now divined
The angels have been satisfied

reasons why


I have been somewhat absent from my blog lately. I might be absent for an unspecified further duration, but I wanted to tell everybody I love around here that I will be back when life allows. I haven’t forgotten about you. Thanks for peaceful thoughts and loving vibrations. Prayers are welcomed as well.

I’d like to avoid elaborating, but just know that every little thing… is gonna be alright. I’m singing don’t worry, about a thing…

And I’ll be thinking of you.

(For a wicked cool song, which strikes a resonant chord in me right now, check out the first comment below and click on that clicky link. Powerful reverberations of a powerful feeling.)

How To Get High. Really High. On Life.

How To Get High. Really High. On Life.

Much of humanity suffers in denial and dismay for the simple lack of allowing the self to be human.

We resist much of what comes naturally to us: grief, sorrow, disappointment, melancholy, introspection, honesty, awareness, and pain (to name a few).

We waste such a great portion of our lives doing mindless trivial things to stimulate an empty entertainment of our happiness-hooked brains; when most of that time would be easily manifested into a genuine and lasting experience of joy —simply by embracing life, as is.

We spend our adolescence rushing towards an overly romanticized adulthood, and spend adulthood chasing after a fantasy of the childhood we never actually lived. We want our french fries and we want to eat them too. At three am. On a school night. We want our bicycles back and we want to ride them too. At three am. On a work night.

What can we do to transform ourselves? How does a person evolve from the mindless pursuit of immediate gratification to an existence filled with lasting satisfaction?

We must develop a sincere recognition of our feelings, and bravely acknowledge them — in spite of the discomfort and awkwardness they present for us. We must step boldly in front of ourselves with eyes wide open. We’ve got to establish an unshakeable confidence in our own personal power; a deep abiding trust that no matter how the circumstances may seem, we are a people who are going places. We might get taken under, on occasion, by invisible currents we weren’t prepared to swim against. But even still, we are headed somewhere. We are a force in motion. And so:

We keep on keeping on.

This is an excerpt from my comment in response to a post of Robert Hookey’s. You can find him (and said post) at …’The Hook’ is a published author with an approachable point of view. For direct access to his blog, please view the first comment below; there you will find a ‘clickable’ hyperlink.

Somebody Just Died

Somebody Just Died

In fact, a lot of people just died.

It happens every single time the clock ticks another second away.

Click, death. Click, death.

The sixty seconds comprising one single minute of our frazzled day each bear witness to more tragedy than our brains can comprehend, let alone measure.

Click, death. Click, death.

And looking back upon the history of humanity, it is always in these moments of catastrophic loss — the instantaneous death of thousands (Hiroshima, Hurricane Katrina, 9/11, the Oklahoma City bombing, the massive earthquake/tsunami in Japan, the list goes on and on…) — in which the internal goodness of humankind becomes visible.

Why is that? What is so morally corrupt with a world that waits for unspeakable grief to act with compassion?

I visited New York City three years after 9/11. You’d never guess what took place only three years prior by the way this city and its people were functioning… As if nothing had happened. As if they would all live forever, and the day-to-day manner in which they conducted their affairs held no weight over their sense of moral obligation to their fellow-man.

Click, death. Click, death.

Must we really be reminded? Must we depend so completely on horror and pain for our behavior towards others to matter?

It’s painstaking, just thinking about the implications this has over what has happened to our collective consciousness. We live in a world in which consumerism takes precedence over philanthropy; fashion has more appeal than inner beauty; religion is held in higher esteem than spirituality; and the world just keeps on spinning.

What if we all paused, simultaneously, and took just one moment to allow our focus to settle on the more substantial aspects of our existence?

What if, for even one day, we consciously made an effort to actually be what we believe ourselves to be? Compassionate. Intrinsically good-natured. Grateful for our freedoms — which so many men and women have bravely laid down their lives to provide for the rest of us…

Click, death. Click, death.

Every single second, people are losing this very opportunity to take a pause from the rat race and truly embrace the things held dear. What will it take for us to utilize each precious moment we are given?

Today is an important day. It’s a gift that wasn’t given to many, many others. Take advantage of the air in your lungs, the shoes on your feet, the loved ones still hanging around on planet earth. Go see them. Tell them what makes them important to you. Express your gratitude to the Maker above that you woke up this morning, and commit yourself to making this day matter somehow.

Even if it’s something as small as holding the door for a stranger; you have the power to change the world. All it takes is one gesture of kindness, and your intentions (once acted upon) become a thread of goodness, woven into the master fabric of our collective existence.

I believe in the goodness of humankind. Do you?