Violence

“In a post-Sept. 11 world, I thought the prudent use of violence could be therapeutic.”
–Richard Choen, a Washington Post columnist, on his support for the invasion of Iraq.

Is violence really the answer to changing governments? Perhaps. Surely violence and militaristic action getting things done but is it really the best way? When putting people in immanent danger they tend to react. There is collateral damage though. In the case of revolution, it is both peoples’ lives and the ecosystems that get damaged. How therapeutic are the sounds of three hundred and eighty bombs (Klein 419). Is the image of a war-torn environment really as serene as clear flowing rivers and natural foliage? I don’t think so. Violence is only therapeutic to an individual who doesn’t know the meanings of violence, or to someone in which violence is all they’ve ever known. Sorry Mr. Choen but you are wrong.

War is an old answer in my book. People called for an end of war during the Vietnam War. Here we are 40 years later and more countries are feeling the effects of war then ever before. Yes this is a time of great uprisings and revolutions. It is great to see people stepping into their power and taking back their land and their governments. At the same time, it is sad to see that the power of a countries people needs to be met with such force when they ask for change. The United States constitution starts out with “we the people…”. I don’t know for other counties what their mission statements contain but I wouldn’t doubt there that far of from ours. When the people say enough it enough, this declaration of change should not be confronted with such extreme violence.

But it so often is. As we’ve been seeing in Egypt, Jordan, and Libya violence is often the answer to confrontation. There are many causalities. People are killed. Cultures and histories are lost by looting and destruction of museums and libraries. Ecosystems destroyed by fires and bombings. War is tragedy and the collateral damage seems to be worth it every time. I really wish to see a peaceful revolution someday. I really believe it can be done. Maybe this is cause I don’t wish to make human life a sacrifice. Life is sacred enough without it being used as a blood-offering to the gods. I’m an idealist I know but for now I feel that my ideals for a better, more peaceful earth are the only things keeping me sane while reading the newspapers.

Layers

Here is my mask
Over my mask is your mask of me
These layers; onions, leeks, garlic
Pungent, thick, and flavorful
Covering things like cinnamon, juniper, and cream
You didn’t order it,
but here I am.
This queer soup, the chefs’ special
Tentatively tasting, finding so many flavors
textures, fragrances.

Here I shall remove both masks.
These ingredients came from somewhere.
They are a part of a larger whole.
Behind the fragments, pieces, you taste
landscapes, peoples, dirt’s and clays.
These are wonders which extend beyond
the palette, the foreground.
There are tools handed down
from grandmother to grandson.
There are wild, untamed creatures
whom roam from field to forest.
Blood, Beaks, Feathers, Fur and Flesh.
Each animal, plant, and mineral
Sacred.

But all you will taste is onions and garlic.

The Fig Tree

I dreamt of a fig tree. It was a scraggly thing. Tall and lanky with green and brown blushed fruits. There was a man, my age perhaps. His short blond hair and pale completion spoke nothing of his knowledge. He was attractive for sure but his demeanor was not of pleasure but of urgency. His message was of warning.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

There was nothing wrong it. Most of the figs were unripe and still hard but there were a few brown pare shaped lobes, hanging in small bunches from the lower limbs. The tree needed water but the mass of unripe fruits told of a bountiful year.

Reaching for fig, just above my head; I was stopped by this man. The message was the same.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

Holding on to the fig, still attached to the tree, I asked Why?

He searched for an answer. He looked at the tree but it seamed as if his gaze passed through the branches and into the sky. Looked back at me, he said the tree was dirty and that the bugs had gotten to the fruit.

Sure the tree was a little run-down looking but nothing a good pruning and better attention the soil wouldn’t fix. The bugs, they weren’t a problem either. There were a few small worms here and there. I picked one off a clump of unripe figs and squished it between my fingers. Showing my worm splattered thumb and pointer finger to the man, he leaned back in mild discussed.

“If you want to eat, you can’t be afraid to get dirty,” I told him.

Wiping my fingers on my jeans and finally pulling the ripe fig from the bough, I saw the man’s face sink into disappointment. I wondered why he would be so opposed to the fruit. The tree looked healthy and the surrounding vegetation looked as well. I took a bite of the soft fruit. Its delicate flesh and sweet fragrance filled my mouth as much as any dream fruit could. It was nothing out of the ordinary but still the man reacted as if I had committed a grave crime. Perhaps I had. There were no other people around. The grove was thick with plant life and it didn’t seam tamed as a garden would. Still, the fruit was sweet and fresh. Ultimately, enjoyable seeing how my body lay back in the dark, cold nights of a northern Minnesota February. Here in this dream place, some one was alive and some one was dying.

[2011]

Your Great Work

We all have to work. By this I mean we all must produce. We produce carbon dioxide, sweat and other excrement’s simply by being alive. Western society says we must get a job to produce, to be effective members of the tribe. Jobs can come in many forms and it’s my belief that everyone has a purposeful job. This job is part of your ‘Great Work’ or your destiny. This work can take many forms as well; From creating great pieces of art or literature, cooking meals for your family, teaching children or other adults, or plowing fields.

So how does one know what their ‘True Will’ or ‘Great Work’ is? It comes from within. When you do something and it speaks to your soul. It completes you. It’s the activity that you do late into the night and get up the next morning wanting, willing to continue. It is pleasurable, not all the time, but over all one finds great joy and deep satisfaction at doing the labor. At times it might frustrate you or exhaust you to the point of fatigue. Ultimately, it is filling, enriching, and what calls you to action. It is not always the bootstrapping process which drains our energy. If some situation is continuously draining or causing bouts of excessive fatigue, then this is not the work you were meant to do. Your ‘Great Work’ is right there waiting for you. Every moment is just another perfect opportunity to do what your heart desires.

Take the next minute or too to reflect on what work or works make you whole or give you joy. Have you done them today? Are social pressers causing you to dismiss these desires as folly or invaluable? What would you have to stop doing in order to do this work? What are you willing to do today to get you closer to that goal?

Breathe in love.
Breathe out connection.

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Solstice Fire II