Love Letter To A Wise Woman

First, let me say, I forget her name. Perhaps this is not important because this practical, insightful and attentive creature has come to me in many personages over the years. I recognize this young girl as the third maiden to save me from my limited view of the world around me. The circumstance was that we were in grade school together, I had undertaken the process of dividing a piece of paper into three equal strips, or segments. My limited mathematical ability had me stretching to divide a fraction of an inch into ever more minute portions. The fractions became smaller than my ruler would allow. I could not make it come out without a remaining un-apportioned piece. She recognized my difficulty, came to my aid and helped me by showing me that if you took one end in each hand and bent the paper into a "Z" fold, the numbers would take care of themselves. I am still thankful for her help, over forty years later, I remember her kind and compassionate assistance to alleviate my struggle. The love I had for this young girl was as much for her intellect as her strong sense of self awareness and compassion. She knew, that she knew and that was all she needed to know, to be of service. Without judgement or guile, she gave of her own knowledge to help a fellow student.

She could have just as easily let me struggle.

The aspects that surely served her well as a child are, I'm sure, still informing her approach to life and that is what I love about her. Each time I meet important womyn in my life it adds to the capacity that I have for loving each of the rest of us. I would say the same for men, but seriously, their way of looking at things is far too often bent by their perspective of power and control. Many of the men I have known would have jumped in, made me feel inadequate, or just done it for me, leaving me to wonder how to do it myself. The get 'r done attitude and bull in a china shop approach would have made it unlikely that I would have had such an easy and long lasting positive lesson.

The first maiden that I had the opportunity to fall in love with was the child of a family friend. Sadly, she passed the veil before me and even though she inspired me to first love, her legacy was to encourage me to take life by the horns, wrest as much knowledge and beauty out of it as possible and to allow my own curiosity to flourish, something that I will never forget and will forever be indebted to her for. Our families moved away from one another when I was just a boy, but we met up again a time or two when my family would traverse the country. I always felt thrilled to get to see her again and when I reach Valhalla, I'm sure we will run barefoot together again and revel in our shared spirit. We are still one, though we are temporarily separated by the physical realm.

The second was from a household that had run a pet shop and candy store out of their home in Springfield, Illinois. This wise and charming girl taught me about critters and their care, that different is okay and that many times we can find silver linings in our most difficult lessons. Her bookish affection led me to find parts of myself that I had not known before. The afternoons we spent in the old store, feeding their creatures are part of what helped feed my own insight and interaction with animals to this day. Who would ever have thought that two generations later, the love these young girls shared, freely would still bear fruit?

Perhaps more common, or at least more numerous, are the mothers who guided the development of my illusions of love. Of course, the first mother I knew was my own. I do love Dar, but have also found that her limited vision proscribed my understanding of and ability to experience love greatly. Many of the things that hurt her soul were carried over to my experience. She was so open and transparent, I seriously had to grapple with and question adult themes from an extremely young age. Many of my youthful views have been discarded, but at my core, I'm still her son although I am now a grandfather as well.

Among the other mothers that have taught me great things, dozens stand out. Again, not so much the fathers. Where men are concerned, they seem to keep the most despicable social traits alive, like teaching a young boy to burp and fart. Mothers actually do the dirty work of teaching us to get along, clean up after ourselves and do the difficult work of being living examples of how to minister to the needs of others. While many of the men I happened to meet taught me how to drink hard and take chances, the women were more likely to hold their families dear, in spite of, or perhaps because of their perceived fragility. It just seemed to me growing up that they realized the true value of their families and the world which we all have to live in.

The love I have for the mother of my children has been strained, although I am no less appreciative of her special gifts. The feisty woman who would not concede an inch to anyone who threatened her children, she taught me to be tenacious when you find what really matters. Although we were not made for each other, we did create beautiful, smart, creative and compassionate children. I knew it was time to settle down when the mothers I met were less exciting than their daughters. The wisdom of women has always been a vital force in my life and to that, as much as any single person,  I write this post.

The woman I have chosen to spend my life with has inspired me to learn even more lessons than I thought needed to be learned. The love that we share is unbound by ego, beyond physical or mental comfort or excitement, although both of those are there. We are two spirits involved in a great dance and we both lean on and help one another in a syncopated rhythm that mimics the ebb and flow of the days, the moons and the seasons. In our way, we are a microcosmic interpretation of universal thoughts and truth. Like two opposing fingers, we grasp things far beyond our immediate experience and evoke in one another a deeper understanding of our selves and one another.

I also want to speak of the crone. My own advancing age, allows me to straddle the line that will eventually fade leaving me in the stage of life that my friend Gary Haugen refers to as the Grandpama. Beyond gender, this repository of the divine feminine as well as the masculine resides in me. As a youth I said that I was in touch with my chick side, I developed mothering instincts when that became appropriate and expressed my nurturing nature using the many mothers I had known as models, but throughout my life, I have loved, and had a relationship with the crone as well. I was the child that many thought daft, who would hang out with the lady in the neighborhood that the other children thought was a witch. She may have been, but her lost loves and children's lives, squandered in war held wisdom beyond my youthful comprehension. Her tried and true methods for growing peas in the neighborhood full of rabbits as well as her desire to keep every penny she could out of the hands of the local utility company informed my understanding and beliefs as much as my own mother's limitations ever did. Her beautifully gnarled hands, alabaster with signs of her branching arteries and veins beneath, the crooked way she would straighten up, whenever she knew I was listening, or asking the right questions resembled pride, but bespoke something far deeper. The crone knows when she is loved, not for what is on the surface, but what resides in her heart and spirit.

The grandmothers are the conduit through which all important knowledge passes. Many tribes allowed their men to be "leaders" but the grandmothers always had final say as to who those leaders would be, as well as who they would serve. It is not worth arguing, anyone who has ever had time to spend with a crone can truly say that even in their silence, they can teach volumes. One of the grand mothers that I had early contact with used to say, "I just sit here and watch the ducks go by..." and "Who couldn't love a cat? Why I'd sooner kiss a cat than some people I know!" (I think that those people know who they are.) It turns out that even though we were all stunned, worried and a little bit confused about her grasp of reality, thinking that she was just spouting nonsense, as we cleaned out her apartment after her passing, didn't a duck and her ducklings pass by the window. Her endless hours spent feeling like she was completely ignored had been punctuated by the seasons and her unique view into the world. I sit now at times and just watch the ducks go by myself and for all that I get out of it, I am proud to have known her and appreciative for her sharing that tiny slice of her life with me as well.

Another crone, speaking of her awareness about her own growing blindness used to say. "I always loved to read,  but one day clouds came and blocked out the words." She sadly recounted the growing fog that eventually took her vision as if it were a natural process and she found ways to continue to learn about the world through the eyes of others when that became necessary. Nothing would prevent her from exploring the world or enjoying the infinite possibilities that present themselves to one who cultivates awareness.

The grace that comes through in each and every one of these personages has brought me messages from beyond the realm of mere physical existence. It has shaped my heart, my brain, my emotional and spiritual life. Loving each and every one of these parts of a singular force (the divine feminine) in our lives is not difficult and it is not limited by exclusivity or dominion. We live together, in relationship, for all time and that perhaps is what I love most. With a bit of luck, more boys will learn to get in touch with their chick sides, honoring and respecting the maidens that offer their wisdom to them. In the next age, we will have to have greater understanding of and respect for motherhood and uphold the sanctity of the role that many mothers play in our lives. When the age of Aquarius becomes fully established, the crones will be both loved and revered as well, for they are the keepers of the great wisdom that many seek. They have borne the water throughout time that can slake the thirst of a withered world. The men have had their chance at running things for centuries now, let us truly love our women and start listening to them for a change.  

When a Great Spirit Passes the Veil...

Native people say that the heavens cry. A great man has passed and yesterday, as I grieved for him, the sky opened up and the spirits cried. Such a deep and loving, compassionate and forgiving soul is hard to find. I know that my friend brought nearly everyone he met joy and happiness. Perhaps it was the jaunty angle at which he wore his hats, perhaps it was his endlessly friendly demeanor, perhaps it was his zest for life, or honest appreciation for having the chance to live it. Whatever the qualities that he reflected, people who knew him can agree, there was no one better suited to spread feelings of happy wherever he went.

Sadly, he foretold the nature and timing of his death. Twenty-five years ago, when we were young college students, he took me aside and confided in me how afraid he was. He knew that he would be the first of our cadre to pass on and that cancer would take him when he still felt young. His endless respect for others, his undying love for those he knew and the childlike ways he played with any parameters you might set for his actions or behaviors kept him young in spite of the years that have gotten by on us all. I'm not sure whether the realization that he was mortal made him more alive or not. What I do know is that his love of life and the people he shared it with were self evident in his every action and interaction. some folks who had not smiled in years brightened their own demeanor whenever Tom was around.

Please, understand, we are each presented with an opportunity to participate in the world in a unique way. The vast majority of us seem to squander this opportunity, doing what others tell us to do, or doing things the way that they have always been done. It takes a strong spirit to challenge each and every aspect of "common knowledge" turning the act of living into an art. I understand that we cannot all be strong and creative, but fortunately for all of us who knew T, we are certainly glad that some people have the strength of will, the power and the creativity to try. Bless you, Tom and may your path be scattered with the fallen leaves of summer. May you find a place to lay down near a babbling brook and may the spirits of the place be as welcoming of you as we have always been. Miss you brother, Namaste'

Fake Terror Real Consequences

Concerning recent events, we can plainly see the real and present danger of fake explosives, fake detonators and fake operatives in the course of human events. Sadly, there is a real possibility that if our own government agents had not aided and abetted the fake bomber, some other "bad guys" might have materialized to fill their shoes, but as we have seen from several other terror related arrests, most of these "cells" lack the know-how and or wherewithal to become serious threats. Believe me, I know the complicated results that underlie the old saying, once bitten twice shy, so I do have some empathy for our Federal Bureau of Investigation. They say that 911 changed the world, but as many have seen and few have reported, the changes we have made have played into the hands of the terrorists, much more than having any beneficial effect on our safety and security. Our over the top response to terror has cost us billions, led to the repeated inconveniencing millions and eroded our rights. We have taken the very real posture of fear that cripples democracy, staunches the flow of free ideas and limits our freedoms that we often claim so many have died for.

I hate to climb on the conspiracy bandwagon, but the utter failings of 9-11 shout for complete revision of whatever policies were in place back then. To allow so many people who were on "terrorist watch lists" to simultaneously board the three planes that were used on that day could have easily been an "oversight". If it were just that, it might seem like pure incompetence. Failure to require cockpit doors be lockable might have been an oversight as well, but as we have learned, the government had been made aware that a plot to use commercial jets as projectiles against soft targets existed for years prior to 9-11. Maybe the FAA had better things to do, more likely, they were never told of the threat. Coincidentally, on the day of the "attack" there were military "games" up and down the East Coast, requiring F-16s to be scrambled. It is most chilling to listen to the dispatcher, who awaits just this sort of event, question, "Is this part of the exercise?" When you know with hindsight that it most assuredly was not. Had the scenario been played out as part of a movie or book, no one would have believed that so many could do so little for so long and that such a long series of mistakes could be strung together to create such a plot. Whether it was pure incompetence or an actual conspiracy is moot, the damage we have done to our own country since is blatantly obvious. The shadow government has ratcheted back freedoms and instituted fear tactics against all Americans in virtually every arena of our lives.

I do understand the very real threat posed by terrorists, but encouraging them to create mayhem to stop them is like trying to stop rabbits from reproducing through the use of tiny condoms. I am struck by the amount of time that was spent on the most recent FBI recruit. Instead of focusing on someone who was willing, but unable to carry out an attack, would not the cause of freedom and security be better served by concentrating on those who have the conviction and means to perpetrate mass destruction? I felt the need, after 9-11, to do a little figuring. Anyone who has been to New York understands that the whole rock of Manhattan is like an anthill. Throngs of people swarm up and down it's length. I wondered, what would happen if there was such a "strike" against an anthill. The answer I came to was absolutely nothing. Even if the World Trade Center had been the heart of the brood chamber, the ants would have carried off anything salvageable, creating a new chamber within hours. Within a week, or possibly as long as a month, the damage would be both inconsequential and undetectable. In our "developed" state, we have plans for a memorial. we are treating it like our own holocaust. We daily multiply the damage and danger by coining the term 9-11, repeating the story, highlighting the "threat" and refusing to ask the simple question, "Why are these crazy folks so dead set on trying to hurt our people?" It is becoming clear to some that we are a much bigger threat to ourselves than terrorists have ever been.

The America that I learned about in social studies and civics class has been eviscerated. No one is free if we are all to become suspect. The right to vote has even been undermined by fear mongering weasels with more money than we can fathom and, it seems, less concern for our country than their own wealth and dominion. The idea of an educated electorate has more or less fallen by the wayside. Like in the Harry Potter series what we fear the most cannot be named. Sadly, the difference between our early twenty-first century America and the magical world of Mr. Potter is that in the books, everyone knows who "he who can't be named" is. We, on the other hand, are led like hogs with rings through our noses from one "devil" to another. This election taxes were trotted out as the enemy. Driven by fear, like we are, it is easier to forget that the Republican juggernaut brought us a collapse of the world economy than question their motives. We seem to refuse to analyze any of the data that comes at us from whatever sources we trust, often choosing the "news" sources that most agree with our opinions. The oft repeated lies do not become true by their repetition, but it seems that we have not learned that yet.

We are a country of over three hundred million. Life is inherently dangerous. We kill more people each year by driving badly than terrorists have ever killed. Doctor prescribed medication kills more people every year than terrorists killed on 9-11. Although I am in favor of vigilance with regard a diverse set of threats, we need to keep a bit of perspective here. The same principles that apply to individuals guide the development of states. No one can be expected to thrive when basic needs are not met. Having our needs met include good nutritious food,which we know is under threat from all sides, receiving love and compassion from others, which is less and less likely in our increasingly angry land and security. True security depends on knowing we are safe, not being constantly told that we are in danger. Just as no one person can thrive under unhealthy or hostile conditions, neither can our nation thrive in an atmosphere of fear, fed only pablam and cheesecake. Searching for the nuggets of truth in the lies we are told by the mainstream press is a difficult challenge, but the value of facing the challenge is worth far more than I can put into words.

A Friend of Mine Was Murdered

A friend of mine was murdered.
Her husband planned it out.
Not her husband really, it was only her ex.
He planned it so that friends of his,
would be the first to respond.
He sat there over her body.
And smoked a cigarette.
Waiting for his friends to come.
So he could surrender to them.
Hand them the gun.
He had planned it all for months.
Making sure of every detail.
Parking a few blocks away.
Hiding in her garage.
He thought the claim, "Crime of Passion"
would let him fly free for his deeds.
Instead he is sentenced to life in prison,
but it won't bring her smile back to me.

At first, I sat in stunned silence, not wanting it to be true.
Then I grew restless, knew just what I had to do.
I would tell the world of her light,
cut down in it's prime.
I would fight the urge to hurl.
I would create a petition and get everyone to sign.
One to demand that those we trust, to serve the public good,
Are scrutinized with a microscope,
found to be free from hate and incapable of lies.

Then I found my way into the dark heart of her mate,
I hated myself for his rage, disgusted by our inhumanity.
I felt compassion for this weak and deranged creature,
who shot the object of his desire. Unable to see her truly.
Unable to fathom her depths, ignorant of her true worth.

I waxed and waned between wanting him tortured, killed,
and forgiving his senseless act.
No punishment can change the horrible loss of love that's felt
by all who know her name.
There remains an emptiness inside of me that "life in prison" cannot fill.
I only hope that in good time, her killer will regain, the part of himself that
went away when he stopped seeing someone there, behind the image that he made,
Upon which he leveled his cold dark stare.

It would be odd I guess, if I didn't tell the rest.
It's not the only love I've lost to husbands that were deranged.
Not the one I loved the most, I loved her just the same.
For all the ladies killed by men,
I pray and beg and boast,
that some good men are out here still.
So don't give up the ghost.

Ladies, you deserve respect.
Don't tangle with those boys,
who treat you like an object,
like one of their little toys,
and don't you let them tell you things
that put questions in your mind.
Boys will always be a waste of time.
Search until you find a man, who will stand up to the boys
and take you in his loving arms and feel and share your joys.

New Patriotism: Religion of the Soil

Patriotism has been referred to as the "Religion of the Soil". We do have a mystic relationship with local microbes. After all, we mutually exchange gasses with the same "local" air. We rely on their existence, inhabiting all the spaces around and some within us. Without bacteria, fungi, and primary decomposers, we would drown in waste. In a single handful of living, healthy soil, billions of relationships weave a complex web of life. It is time for us to have a true worshipful attitude toward soil. Earth is a daunting concept to many of us. The sheer scale of our planet trumps our imaginations from grasping the entire globe. Think locally can likewise boggle our ability to appreciate, the full complexity, overwhelming our imaginations. We have virtually sterilized much of our part of North America, leading to much less diversity of species, and far fewer organisms overall.
Imagine, intact forest, towering eighty to over one hundred feet. In this matrix are many thousands of individual plants, a myriad of creatures, living just on the bark of the several hundred trees per acre! Add in the thousands of insects that would inhabit a single dead tree...You can see that in short order, we would find billions of organisms, then trillions. Truly mind boggling. Now, remember the last parking area that you saw. Not only is there a minute area on which life to exist, but the conditions over the entire area are at odds with any sort of ecologic system. We can reclaim paved areas, we just need the will, and respect for the soil that it deserves. The desolation that has been rolled, like dice, out upon the landscape can be reclaimed. By the simple act of respect, for the land, the soil, and our "need" to civilize and control nature on this most basic level.
Our fresh air depends on other living things, our food, many of our clothes, our homes, our very ability to make a living, depends on the Mother, Earth. The earth's systems have developed over millennia to be perfectly suited to their locale. Ours is to find a way to encourage the unity of complexity in and amongst the inhabitants of every thimbleful of soil that we can. We need to develop ways to add verticality to our landscape as well. Trees, vines, herbs and flowers all multiply the area that is available for life to thrive in and on. Profusion of life is the rule rather than the exception in nature. If we are to survive as a species, we need to fit ourselves to the web rather than trying to make it bend to us.
Today, we only got to plant a few trees, but each one made a huge impact on the local landscape. these were larger, specimen trees, and relatively tower above what had been there before. Shade, even dappled shade reduces extremes of both temperature, humidity and wind. This in turn encourages a wider variety of life-forms who add their energetic spin to the vortecies of life. all beings imbibe and sanctify Earth, Air and Water, and through the furnace of metabolism, and harvesting solar energy, Fire. Every organism also brings to the equation Spirit. The will to survive is at the root of all life. Although it has been suggested that the death drive is equal to the drive to life, I see quite the opposite. The death drive is almost always aberrant. Think of the Kamakazi Squirrels, who run under your tires, deer in the headlights, and teenagers for that matter. If they were like that all the time, the species would have died out long ago. We can strive for incremental change to have lasting affects. What we can do now is better than what we hope to do in the future. That being said, each of the trees that we planted to day has a high probability of outliving me. What better way to serve the next seven generations!
Please plant a tree as soon as you can, and if you would like us to plant a tree with your blessings, send donations to ECO-Tours of Wisconsin Inc. 1445 Porlier Street, Green Bay, WI 54301-3334