Sunday, September 19, 2010

Initiation


the oily feather flap
the leather black flap
of raven
silent delicate dips
of yellow-breasted
red-headed finches
the serene circling,
tireless gliding
of hawk

I stretch my arms
like a scarecrow
waiting as I have my whole life
for your landing

my eyes widen as you glide toward me
my arm dips
with your sudden weight

talons curl into my flesh
my arm shakes
the thrill of you on me
but I dare not turn my head

you stretch a wing
ruffle feathers
and side-step up my arm
hop and flutter to the top of my head

lowering your breast
feathers press my hair
soft heat and blood permeate my scalp
a warm rush as
you melt into me

I raise my arms
bend my knees
and push off
oily feather flap
soft by our ears
black leather flap
of our shiny wings
take us up,
up
into the flock

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

My Killing Community:Credentials to Speak



Recently I sat at our annual holiday family dinner with people from fourteen to ninety-two years old. Some of the people in their early twenties and thirties were American born and some were recent immigrants from Yugoslavia.

We were talking the state of the world, especially the U.S. occupying Iraq. The conversation was getting heated between those justifying the invasion and occupation of Iraq and those opposed.

“What would you do, as head of the government, if someone in the world had something you needed for survival, like oil or water, and wouldn’t give it to you?” My nephew asked me.

“Talk. Use diplomacy.” I said.

He leaned over the beautifully set dining room table toward me. “What if that didn’t work?”

“Keep trying.” I said.

“That’s crazy. They have no right to not give us what we need.”
Although I was stunned by his attitude, I thought, it’s the same as our government’s, but expressed more forthrightly by my nephew.

Where does the idea come from that the U.S. Government is entitled to take whatever it wants from anyone at any price? Privilege? Ignorance? Arrogance? Military might?

At the heart of the matter lies the tacit assumption that it’s okay to kill people. We are participants in the take-it-for-granted killing. I’m talking about killing and violence as strategies to solve problems. In our country and others there is no question about whether or not killing is an acceptable strategy. It’s a government strategy of, “Whatever it takes to convince the people, that what we want to do________ (fill in the blank) is right.”

I no longer care what the details are in filling in the blanks because the details are supplied by the governments to make us, the people, agree to illegally invade and occupy Iraq, to kill Palestinians in Gaza, turn our collective backs on genocide around the globe. This strategy has a history and it’s called PR, public relations, or propaganda. Lying.

What if our first and only strategies were peace and diplomacy? What if in our communities violence and killing were unacceptable, illegal and the people who did it or ordered it to be done were held accountable? Why is it that holding people accountable is depicted by the Obama administration as not moving forward and therefore dismissed?

What if the billions of dollars we spend on the military each day went instead into creating peace, to educating our kids, providing healthcare to everyone? Our communities might look different.

How we see and understand community today is inseparable from politics. When it’s politically convenient the government, local or federal, paints community as inclusive. People are encouraged to talk about the positive values of community; it takes a village, the benefits of the extended family, community gardens, and Neighborhood Watch. We are encouraged to band together, take things into our own hands and make good things happen, safety and nourishment of our children.
But when that view is politically inconvenient community becomes exclusive and the notion of community is used by the government and their mouthpieces to shut people up and out.

“You have no legitimate right to comment because you aren’t in Iraq, because you aren’t on the police force and don’t know all the details, because you aren’t in the State Department or the CIA so you don’t know what’s really happening, and because you aren’t a part of those communities, you have no legitimate right or credentials to speak.”

Guess what? My legitimate credentials are that I’m a member of the human race and everything that happens to my people affects me and I’m a part of it all. My people are being killed with impunity and are killing with impunity. Everything that happens in our community affects us. We are not innocent bystanders. We are complicit in killing unless we object. Unless we speak out.

Oscar Grant was shot dead while lying face down on a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) platform on New Year’s morning, 2009 by a BART police person in Oakland, California. Chauncey Bailey, a journalist, was shot dead on August 2, 2007 in Oakland, California while investigating Your Black Muslim Bakery. And what about Lavelle Mixon in Oakland in March this year shooting dead four policemen and himself? What about almost sixty people being murdered in my country, the U.S.A., in the last month by rampage gunmen? What do you mean I have no credentials to speak?

Since I live in Berkeley, which borders Oakland, am I allowed to claim only this geographic community as mine to comment on? Community is universal, inclusive. Oscar Grant, Chauncey Bailey, Guantanamo Bay, Iraq, Afghanistan, Zimbabwe, Darfur, East Timor, Gaza, Sri Lanka, mountaintop removal, rainforest destruction, Tibet are all part of the same Killing Community. Our community. We are its members. What do you mean we have no credentials to speak?

I’m tired of the words people use to legitimize killing. “They broke the cease-fire, they struck first, they are killing their own people, they are a danger to us, we can’t allow them to reject our rules for them.”

On the other hand, the words I want to use to express my feelings about the killing, the slaughter, the massacres, the genocide, the torturing to death, the starvation, the destruction of natural resources, the lack of universal healthcare, and the rape of women and children are outrage, horror, illegal, inhuman. But even these words don’t convey the profound dismay, anger, despair and sadness I feel as a member of our Killing Community.

The devil is in the details.

Does devil mean capacity to lie? Capacity to engender terror? Capacity to betray one’s soul, one’s integrity? Are we trading our collective soul for a return in oil, land, water, lumber, money, a pound of flesh? You may not trade my soul.

People use the details of a situation to argue about who has the moral upper hand. Examine the so-called legal, legitimate arguments for why it’s necessary to torture someone to death, to do extraordinary rendition in order to allow another government to torture someone, why it’s necessary to slaughter, why a government has the right to invade and take over a people in another country and bomb them into submission, starve them out, destroy their culture. Is it okay because the violence is collateral damage, expected, and accidental? All are litigious details.

While men and women in suits argue semantics, some person’s blood drips drop by drop into the earth they lie on, gushes from an artery, soaks their clothes, human dead bodies of adults, teenagers, children and babies and pieces of them are strewn about the earth, thrown into secret mass graves, and buried by family members. White phosphorus silently eats the skin of the living and dead. Yes, the devil is in the details.

But the devil is not an alien being. The devil is us. That’s how the destruction is happening. We have the capacity for betrayal of our souls and we’re exercising it. It’s me. It’s you.

What aspects of me shall I exercise? Fear, revenge, and domination, or can I exercise compassion, courage, and cooperation? We need to look to compassionate guidelines and international agreements to support us in seeing a more hopeful humane possibility. We need to study and practice peace and compassion.

You can’t see the forest for the trees is the sister of the devil is in the details. While governments argue the semantic details, of what constitutes torture, who is allowed to intervene on genocide and who isn’t, and what specifics constitute war crimes, people are being blown up. The trees, branches and leaves of semantic justifications, obfuscate the forest of killing.
The damn forest is lost. It makes me feel like screaming. KILLING living beings. Is it ever justified? And I don’t want a legal response. Get the picture. Smell the stench.

You don’t want to read about it and I don’t want to talk about it. But we must.
For the last two decades preschools and elementary schools in this country have been teaching “use your words” to children when there is a disagreement. Just because you can’t have everything you want, don’t resort to a physical altercation as a solution.

This apparently is a teaching only for the young because so soon as one becomes an adult, solutions to disagreements rapidly escalate and narrow to using force, military, psychological, and physical. Bomb them, threaten them, torture them.
On the other hand, perhaps the disagreement between Iraq and the United States may have been easier, more amiably, and equitably resolved if Saddam Hussein and George W. Bush took personal responsibility for their disagreements by engaging in a bout of fisticuffs together. They could have enjoyed taking responsibility for and the consequences of every blow struck. That would have been more to the point and the whole world could have rooted for their favorite fascist. I would have watched it. The market may have soared.

Let’s look at who we’re killing. The enemy. The one inside us or outside us? We’re exercising the enemy inside us when we kill and as we exercise our internal killer capacity, it gains strength. We’re killing compassionate parts of ourselves, growing noncompassionate power.

We become people without compassion, people without peaceful choices, people who can only exercise military and physical domination, we become rigid uncompromising and brittle. We suffer.

Do we really want to continue trying to create an empire through death and destruction? I will not trade my soul for oil, land, money, one ounce of flesh, or anything else.

Do we only have credentials to speak about our own local communities, our own countries, even though we are citizens of the world? And who decides if we have the credentials? Who will print our words in our newspapers? Who will post our words on their political blog? What government representative will answer our letters. Who will invite us to talk on the radio or television? ? We are all responsible.

Women in Afghanistan spoke up on International Women’s Day, March 8, 2009. They wore blue ribbons as a symbol of peace.
Virginia Wolf said, “As a woman I have no country. As a woman my country is the whole world.” We can legitimately speak about everything that happens in the world.

In five days it will be March 8, 2010. Have we changed?

We need compassion for ourselves and for everything living. We need to figure out how to nurture life, ourselves, each other, our communities. We need to speak up, act up, write our opinions, and protest killing in every form. Especially now. Now in this country, in the powerful United States, now because it looks as if there may be an opening. A possibility for change, for a different way. A way of renouncing killing and committing to peace, to compassion, to negotiating, to generosity. We must speak at our dinner tables. It is our responsibility as humans. We all have the credentials to speak. And we must listen to each other. We can take compassionate action. Yes, we can, and we must.

Monday, January 18, 2010

The Rain Comes Down and We Consider Revolution



January 18, 2010 Martin Luther King Day

The rain comes down in great loud sheets this morning as I stretch on my living room floor. Lady Sparkles watches me from her chosen place near the front door as Martin Luther King’s voice magically flows from the radio and fills the room and my mind. It is his anti-Vietnam War speech.

“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible, will make violent revolution inevitable.”

King quotes John F. Kennedy’s 1962 prediction. It has become our reality. We exist in the present as our past’s future. Our governments make violent revolution. They pull the triggers and drop the bombs everyday.

Do we not have the strength, the courage, the creativity, the compassion to make choices for peaceful revolution? What does it take? Why is the U.S. Government engaged in murdering people all over the world? The journalist Allan Nairn says that the Obama military machine that spans the world is set on “kill.” Obama is not changing the setting. Why? Why is our vision so obscured? Can we be this stupid?

Now the wind whips huge wet drops in a maelstrom against the houses, roses, cars, earth, everything that exists and the kumquat tree waves its arms crazily scraping against the window as if to crack it open and come inside where it’s safe.

I cannot imagine what it’s like to be an unsafe citizen of Haiti now after the huge quake in the earth and the continuous political aftershocks that are Haiti’s history since 1804 when they were the first black republic to declare their independence. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be a citizen of Afghanistan seeing the U.S. military murdering people. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be a citizen of Iraq and watch the destruction of civilization, familiy and friends. I cannot imagine what it's like to be a citizen anywhere in the world where a foreign country is occupying my land.

I am a citizen of the world and my U.S. government is occupying Iraq, Afghanistan, and indirectly Gaza.

I cannot imagine what it will take for my congress people to say no to killing. I cannot imagine what it will take for all of us, citizens of the U.S., to say no to killing.

Is the first step to acknowledge that corporations control our government? Or, is the first step to acknowledge that all individuals have a voice, that we must use it, and we must say no to killing?

I look out at the storm and consider that perhaps it doesn't matter what's first. Just that we take a determined step toward peaceful revolution. And keep stepping.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

What if?


What if Mr. Obama had gone to Copenhagen as a representative of the people of the U.S.?

What if he understood that all the people in the world are part of the same family?

What if we understood that we are all in the present together and that we need to make decisions about the planet that will benefit all living things?

What if we were all committed to thriving and sustaining life?

What if politicians made a living wage and didn’t receive money from anyone else?

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Tipping Over the Edge

Sometimes it's the seemingly smallest detail that nudges one over. In this case it was President Obama's use of one word that tipped me over the edge of silence into the realm of expressing frustration and anger.

This month, December 2009, Obama gave a speech in which he said we need to be "nimble and precise in our use of military hardware." Nimble?

Quick, light, agile and deft. Quick, clever and acute in understanding.

It's not only the meaning, it's the sound of the word "nimble," the feeling, which is benign and almost fairy-like.

What does it mean to couple this word "nimble" with "military hardware?" Is it a linguistic balancing act to make us feel that everything is okay?

Are we supposed to be lured into the belief that killing people and destroying their environment is a quick light and deft action? That it takes a light maneuver to accomplish destruction? Or, is it using this benign and light word to lead us away from the brutal reality that our military is killing people who live thousands of miles away from us in order to "protect us?"

Ask yourself, when was the last time you even heard the word used? Using the word "nimble" was a conscious choice. I was shocked and angered to hear it used in this way.

I am angry that politicians use words to manipulate our feelings and beliefs. To lead us away from inconvenient truths.

Engaging in wars is not in any way a light experience, nor should it be described as such or insinuated that it is. It would be more useful to see the body bags of the dead returning and see the numbers civilians, everyday of people, we kill in Iraq and Afghanistan and to listen to what the families of the slain are saying. This is horrific to contemplate because it is horrific. Seeing the consequences of our actions we might be more inclined to speculate and talk about why our government is in other countries waging wars and why so many people around the globe dislike and fear us. Maybe we could move toward truth. Perhaps toward compassion. Perhaps we can take more compassionate actions to foster peace and to terminate our determination to build empire.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Is Seeing Believing?



Sometimes you want to be seen and sometimes you don't.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Take the Leap: Grace Speaks




Greetings, my dears. The New Year’s here. I’m snuffling your ear.

Do you like my poem? Woof.

I’m sorry my New Year’s message is late but my two-legged’s been having trouble translating what I’m telling her. The human brain doesn’t easily catch the drift.

This is my New Year’s tip. You realize you’re listening to a dead dog. Ha ha ha. I’m only dead in the way that I dropped my body. I changed. But I am here in full fine form finally. Bigger than life. What does that mean anyway? I know, but it’s a koan for you. Woof!

Love. That’s the deal, seal. Nada mas.

You got to love. A person. An animal. A being.

All different kinds of love. I’m talking about them all in the largest, most expansive, the deepest sense. In the smallest daily way.

Every day my person put her palm on my flat head, “Good morning, Gracie.” She said. She’d gently rub the points of my ears with her fingertips. “You’ve got the softest little ears, and look at those cheeks.” She’d stroke my cheek spots and squeeze me.

My younger person curled up with me on the floor every evening. “Goozie, I love you.” Then she’d tell me all about what happened at school, especially things that made her feel badly. She played soccer with me in the back yard, giggling, running, and kicking the ball. “I got you. I made a goal. Woa, great dribbling, Goozie. Give that back.”

Loving another being connects us-- to them and to ourself. A oneness. I’m not a guru, but it’s true. We feel at one with ourself and the universe, if only for a second. That’s all we need to begin, a second. It’s worth going for. After all, if we have a choice, why not choose love? Make the leap. Abandon your self.

Plus, our love moves us to work for the loved one. I loved taking care of my people. Working for them. That’s the deal. We’re here to work for each other. It feels good.

I worked for my family, my two sweet ones. Keeping them safe, loved, cared for, having fun, reminding them of the present. I felt joy whenever I saw them. I gave them joy and giggles and someone to care for in return. Wag wag wagging.

They worked for me. They gave me shelter, food, water, joy, kept me safe, and loved. They cared for me deeply. We were connected. Although we each had different relationships, love unified us. Even though I dropped my wonderful body, we’re still deeply connected, as you see. I trot after them everywhere they go. Woof.

Love connects us. Love is a joy. Connection can lead to compassion, which is part of why we’re here, I think. Part of our work. Being at one with someone can take us to instant exhilaration, to joy, as well as instant compassion for their suffering, which we are moved to relieve.

Picture our world in which all humans acted from love and compassion. Woof!

My companion, Soft Tone, used to throw balls for me really far in the distance and I ran so fast and leapt up in the air and caught them. What a feeling! I flew through the air and snagged the ball right out of space. I held it with my teeth and felt it on my flat tongue. Sometimes I’d squoosh it between my teeth. It tasted like Soft Tone’s scent and the wind.

I’d gallop back and drop it in front of her. If she didn’t pick it up, I’d bark or grab it back. I didn’t think about it; I was just one with myself, my person, the ball, the space, the earth, my muscles, the flying, my intent to catch, the universe around me. When we’re one with ourself, we don’t think about it. We just are.

And when love comes, when compassion happens, it shoots through us like leaping for a ball, a wag of the tail. It’s automatic and it’s deep. It happens. In that moment we are One. With the air, the earth, the ball, the universe, all living things--One Heart.

When Soft Tone saw me leap and fly for the ball I could tell by the way she stood still watching and by the smile that emanated from within that she felt it too. That moment.

“Wow! Gracie you are so beautiful. You just do it and then you have such a huge smile and you want to go again.”
She loved me. A miracle.

This is not an intellectual exercise I’m describing. I’m a dog. Woof. I’m giving you instructions on leaping. For love.
It’s not just words.

Connect with a person, a blade of grass, a flower, a cat, a bird, a rock, whatever it is, you’re on your way. Connecting opens the passage.

Connecting leads to Heart. We have a million opportunities each day. Leap!

Let me know how it goes. It's up to us.

I hope you like the photos.

Grace