Perspective

What if the World is Flat – Flags and Fags and Pants that Sag

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What if the World is flat after all

What would that mean

Would it alter my steps

Would it change the axis around which I spin

They say it is a spinning sphere

Hung like a blue marble in black space

But They say lots of things and it changes like the wind blowing this way and that

They used to say it was flat

Pluto used to be a planet too

Then it was not, now who knows

Can someone remind me if eggs are still bad for you

Is it Global Warming or Global Cooling or just Change now

It is hard to keep up between seasons of American Idol and Netflix marathons

It is hard work whoring myself for the next newest shiny thing They say I must have to be complete

I need to turn on the programming written for my particular demographic to get my bearings

Let’s see . . . what trifle shall I mediate on today

Whose direction will fill my thoughts and be parroted with borrowed words

Am I against Christians or Gay people, Black or White Devils or the manipulated Mexicans brought in to fill a growing gap

Do I care more about puppies than baby parts

Will I kill you over an idea that you are an idea, a label not a soul

Existential unnamed rage projected onto the stereotypes injected into my mind

Or will today be a time to remember that I forgot to feel terrorized

By the ones They have created, pissed on and off, and financed

Cause if I am angry about flags and fags or pants that sag I won’t consider

It will never enter my mind that perhaps I am asleep dreaming I am awake in this hall of mirrors

A prison of half-truth and misdirection, held captive by the cage created in my mind

Fighting for the crumbs from Master’s table that I have built and even now sustain

Righteous anger aimed amiss is an impotent thing and is no threat to Them

It only tightens the noose and the more I struggle the less I can breathe

That is why it was said to turn the other cheek.  It dissipates Their power

They feed off the struggle of the pawns and the knights, the bishops and the royal court who think they are players

But no, they are being played, both king and pawn.

The game is played above their heads with pillars and ladders to heaven

Whether one travels a space at a time or the length of the board it is still on the square, boundaries defined by the Makers of the game

Rules and moves defined, determined by demographic, groups magically manipulated by the illusion of averages and statistics

Groups cannot think, only individual souls might consider that there may be better questions that would reveal the real play

A soul might pause and wonder why is it that they ask Them for permission to marry in the first place or why it is we seek a right that we already posses

A soul may ask how it is that we have surrendered our authority to smiling sorcerers and devils that claim to own this world and us through Divine Right

Birthright traded for a bowl of beans, distraction of their fertility rituals, and conjured safety

For They promise security and solutions from threats and problems They created

They break my legs and I gratefully accept the crutches They provide from my labor

And I will continue to eat the poisoned food and water They make available then come flaccid and fat and weak, hat in hand begging my Masters for Healthcare

I will not give a moment’s thought to Their mass genocide, drug trade, trafficking in children for sex, starvation of tens of thousands because it is convenient, expedient for Them

No, but I will fight for my right to remain a slave to the business of the MON EYE god they serve, stay discontent in my little cube as they offer me up as a sacrifice to the Lord of the Rings

It is all business, nothing personal, I am a number, a member of a group and have grown accustomed to my bondage

My chains may be of iron or gold yet chains they remain

And I will be on guard to protect my status

It is what I have traded for my empty, grasping, and envious soul

I have become my own prison guard policing myself and others ever watchful for the code words that signal a breach in the walls of my demographic

Cracker, Nigger, Faggot, they change through the years and the current context of culture

They are a function not a person, but if I am a statistic what do I know of spells and incantations spoken over me from my birth

Flags and Fags and pants that Sag are the current code words which illicit the predictable preprogrammed patterned response

I will watch as they change business models based on trends and temperament of the slaves

Socialism, Capitalism, Fascism, Communism, are all isms and ocracys and any will serve them at need

It is all the same game to them and they need good ignorant slaves whatever They call them or the system dejure

Even if one wants to be a “good” Master, they still want to be Master

But, what if the world is flat after all

What would that mean

Would it alter my steps

I think not.  They come one yard at the time either way

I encounter one soul at the time too.  I have never met an average or a median or mean

Men and women and boys and girls given rights by their Creator

Given seeds and water and earth and resources for life in love and grace, not walking death and slavery

Real change happens in the heart and the mind as we awaken and shake off the webs they weave

They can only do what we allow, it is all a head game played by our leave

No is the most powerful word

There is no need to fight anything but the fear and the addiction to what does not satisfy anyway

 

P.S. It is interesting that the UN uses a Flat Earth map.  What’s up with that?

P.S.S.  They said it was flat, then a ball, but now use a flat map, I wonder what people will do when They tell them that the Aliens are here to save us and it is important to submit to trans-human implants?

P.S.S.S.  It all sounds crazy when it is first said.  It always has because it’s different.  It sounded crazy when they told you not to shit your pants anymore too.  Your world was shaken but you learned to handle your shit differently.

P.S.S.S.S.  The funny and sad part is that some folks will take more issue with the map and alien stuff than the slavery they are living.

P.S.S.S.S.S.  Just remember that if there is fear and a promise of safety They generated the fear and built the pens for everybody to run into.  That is the real game.

P.S.S.S.S.S.S.  Perfect love casts out fear – Love, Your Creator

🙂 Be Groovy!

Garden Update – Mo Bugs

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Saturday I arrived to find the Cantaloupes, thriving and untouched by the bugs.  Unfortunately the Squash and Zucchini I had tried to rescue were done for.  I pulled their corpses from the ground and witnessed hundreds of June bugs emerge from under the straw and begin to scamper up the pepper plants.

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I considered what to do.  After a little deliberation it was obvious that I should attend to what is working.  So many times I have focused on, and grieved, and wasted so much energy on what has not worked.  Feeling like a failure in the midst of an abundant garden has been a theme for much of my life.  Perhaps my garden is beginning to teach me to pay attention to that which produces the fruit.  The death of the Zucchini has actually made room for that which has much more promise.  Truthfully, I think that they both would have been crowded out and neither would have flourished if the bugs had not done their work.  See the Cantaloupe growing in the shade of the Tomatoes.  Last year I was quite a successful Zucchini farmer.  And in my mind I thought I would ever be.  I have never grown Cantaloupes before and on a whim I planted them.  That little space is more shaded and I wondered how well they would do.  Apparently the mix of sun and shade and the soil and the water suits them quite well.  Perhaps as we garden we need to keep an open mind.  Perhaps I am a Cantaloupe gardener after all.  Perhaps I am finally learning to let go of what is not and to celebrate what it.  I am kinda tired of Zucchini anyway.

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And all this fuss about Zucchini has not taken into account the Peppers and the Eggplant.  I like to add a layer of fried Eggplant to Lasagna.  It is very tasty.  The new babies are doing fine.  Purple Russian Tomatoes and Watermelons will all have their chance now to prosper in the absence of all the Squash.  I returned Sunday with a plan to deal with the bugs.  They will not just go away because I don’t like them.  I needed to take some kind of action to prevent them from invading the rest of the garden.  After a little bit of research I discovered a way to trap them based on their own proclivities.  So many times we attempt to wish troubles away.  Our thought process goes along a path of thinking in the negative.  “I wish they were not here” rather than “What am I going to do about this problem.”  I needed to know my enemy and their habits, what they want, and how to stop this once and for all.

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After the research (love some Youtube), and having gathered my supplies, I arrived Sunday afternoon with everything I needed to make some June Bug Traps.  The beer is optional.  I have two 2-liter bottles, two LED battery operated lights, a razor, electrical tape, and masking tape.  June Bugs are nocturnal and are attracted to light.  If one understands their enemy well enough there does not have to be much of a fight.  They can be led into a place where they will trap themselves.

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The simple idea is that they will be attracted to the light so they will climb up the tape, fall into the funnel, and become trapped.  Those who invade our gardens are not very creative.  If they were they would have their own gardens and not attempt to cannibalize others’.  There are times when we allow others unwarranted access to us because we are fearful or feel hesitant to act.  Invaders use guilt or a tender heart as pathways to steal the fruit they have not tended.  It was asked “Why do you give what is holy (bread) to the dogs, and why do you throw pearls before swine? For they will just wallow them into the mud then turn and cut you open for your trouble.”  At some point it is no longer the dogs nor pigs fault that we continue to waste our holy treasure and are repeatedly wounded.  If we continue to give what is sacred to those who can not value it that is on us and is no kindness to ourselves or them.

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Traps set.  Now get your little butts out of my garden.  Think I will have another beer as I wait for the sun to go down.  Be Groovy! 🙂

Garden Update

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Everything is thriving with me having little to do with it.  I pruned some spent leaves, did a little weeding, tied the rambling tomato vines, and harvested what was ready.  Now begins the season of harvest.  It arrived without my intervention or intention.  I am only the sower not that which makes it all happen.  There is great comfort in that thought.  For many years I believe I was operating under the illusion that life was about me somehow making it all work.  I don’t recommend that as a good personal philosophy. 🙂 The will to be like god, even if springs from ignorance and fear, creates the shame and perpetrates the false divided Self, hiding there behind the fig leaves.

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One can not measure up to god.  It is much too large a job.  It creates anxiety.  We know on a deep level when we are inadequate.  But how could one be adequate when they are trying to fill god’s shoes?  God makes it all grow, both plants and people.  The cantaloupe is growing like wild.  It is spreading out and producing the pretty yellow flowers which will soon become fruit.  I can’t make them grow faster and longer by pulling on them.  That would only do damage.  My only influence when  I play god is to slow or interrupt the growth.

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Tiny little seeds were the start of all of this.  Most of them look so unsubstantial, useless, common.  But look at what those little things produced.  Our culture in large buys plants that others have planted.  They come sometimes full grown in a pot.     A seed might cost a penny if you buy it but really most could be had for free if one just took the time to go get some from a neighbor’s plant.  But even if the penny is spent, at the end of the season there will be hundreds of free ones on the ground just laying there.  The markup on plants is thousands and thousands of a %.  And we pay because we are wanting it to come full grown like a fern from Home Depot.  Or again, the leaves that fall each year in my yard are the perfect fertilizer.  The trees have penetrated deeply into the earth to find the minerals to make the leaves.  Then each year the minerals are returned back to the earth to go round again.  But what do we do so often?  Rake em, burn em, then go buy fertilizer for the yard.

 

I was thinking about such things yesterday and how I have so often looked past the treasure, the resources I have at hand.  Thinking it is too small or common and wishing for something to come full grown and done.  Those kind of opportunities can be had but they typically cost too much.  And one may occasionally stumble upon something just sitting out there waiting for someone to claim it.  My grandmother would often take us into the woods with her to dig up plants she would later transplant in her yard.  Or she would “root” a cutting of some plant and have 2 or 3 or 20.  It was all free. God gives the seeds and plenty of them are laying around our feet unnoticed and unused.  So yesterday I sowed some tiny seeds.  They seem inconsequential but have you ever seen a tomato seed?  It almost feels silly to say, so I’m guessing that I was on the right track.  All I did was find the contact numbers for local poetry/literary groups and reached out.  No idea what may come of it but each one is a seed sown.  I then submitted some more poetry to a journal.  Then I joined the Alabama Writers Forum which promotes the arts statewide.  There I found some other places to submit poetry.  It was not a huge deal.  It is goofy not to have done those things before.  The options were there the whole time.  But perhaps I was waiting on something to grow in me before I could see.  Perhaps the seed of being a writer has finally germinated and it sprouting.  If I am going to write I need to do at least some of the stuff that writers do.  Nobody is going to bring it to me pregrown.  And who knows what might come up, who I may meet, idea birthed, or new pathways trod?  There may be something cool that I’ve never seen or tasted.  Like these.

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So I think I will practice not being god.  I suck at it anyway.  And even though I am such a failure the impulse still persists at times.  I keep forgetting that I am a part of the process not the master of it.  But sometimes I remember and can relax and quit pulling on the vines.  I’m not the Grower I am the Sower.  I have seeds in abundance.  And there is a whole universe full of soil.  What comes up and thrives is out of my hands, thank god.  Be Groovy! 🙂

 

Rejection Notice

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This image made me laugh. 🙂

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Rejection signals a wrong step

Being told no or worse, not acknowledged, a promise not kept, again

Waiting for the call that does not come

The preparations made that no one will see, the email saying it’s not you, its me

It is not a waste, it is actually kinda cool

What was lost, nothing, there was nothing there anyway

Some illusion of how it might be, hope’s bubble burst, but it’s just soap suspended in air

Nothing real, real things don’t go away, the ones you seek do what they say

The path you want is solid not paved with maybes, and yeah buts, and excuses, no’s

You are looking for the yes, the yes, the yes

Those are your people, that is your way, that’s how you know

Thank the Creator for the no, rejoice in it

Celebrate the truth, laugh in the face of it

It defines, it clarifies, it points the way, away

Rejection is a wrong step

That’s all

Be Groovy! 🙂

The Acorn and the Oak

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OH TO BE LIKE AN OAK TREE

Stepping out into a broader space
Leaving behind the familiar comforts of the rut
But, there I held sway, I was the master

Predictable, easy, except for the slow withering of my soul
Did my tricks to get my treats
But the former was confining and I had out grown it

Like a plant in too small a pot
Roots bound, tangled, seeking new earth
But to step out is to become weak again, to let go, to become a child

There was a brief thrill in the stepping out
Really it was a small thing made large by ego’s fear
But there was really no power there

Like a spider’s web it clung inciting primal fear
No power at all to resist a decision
But now the familiar is no more

Where once I was large now I am small, ignorant, and inexperienced once more
Planted in new ground hoping for the water and the warmth and the worms to do their work
The plane is large, expansive, might I grow to fill that new empty space

But the great Oak lives inside the tiny, shiny acorn
Food for squirrels or master of the Woodland
I am the Sower and I am the seed
It is not the breaking through that is the challenge

It is sitting still long enough to put down roots and grow in the new larger place

There are multiple buts in this process

But either way.  Be Groovy! 