birdsongs of a new day

once awakened my hearing tuned into the delightful birdsong most complex, long, softly melodic and ranging as any symphony and i have to say lyrical because having understood the quality wondered to listen closely so as to ascertain meaning and content, but it got distant, as if the male birdsongstress* finished her performance and moved to a next stage for a different audience giving way to the incessant clucking of a chicken and me wondering is that not the sound along the laying of eggs. so i got up to follow the sound, the better to locate the eggs to make a search short, only to find said hen standing on her own post of a stage ---my windshield wiper. I ran her nothing to gain but poop and empty sound

there is much to learn and gain by waking up with the sun to a new day

Good Morning

Privilege in Many Forms: Male Blindness and Out of Place Voice and Access as a Journalist

question: would raphael d righter have taken it upon himself to find out of place to write another person, mainly anybody other than a black woman, and specifically, a man, to tell them They were out of place to so exercise their right and values, to what and whichever extent they chose? I am just wondering. Help me......think this through

I am awaiting his response too
it is not in the least ironic that one would get out of place to tell someone else they out of place. ah boy. male dominant mind gone wild?

 http://guardian.co.tt/commentary/columnist/2010/07/28/think-again-verna 

Kisha Ramcharan Monti Hmmmmmmmm
And response arrives:

On Wed, Jul 28, 2010 at 3:40 PM, Clevon Raphael .com> wrote:

...

"Dear mm I hate corresponding with anonymous people but yes, in retrospect and on re-reading that line as a result of your short comment, it does sound disrespectful on my part. I sincerely apologise for that slip of the pen, and many thanks for drawing it to my attention.

And I responded:

"Thanks for being so gracious
Then please and kindly print something in the papers, and preferably soon, And at the beginning of your next week's column."

MD Huggins
Montserrat Maven (MM)

 

----- 

second response

On Wed, Jul 28, 2010 at 4:16 PM, Clevon Raphael

.com> wrote:

"Thanks for identifying yourself. I do not think your suggestion is necessary unless the good lady asks for it. The "sin" is of a venial nature not requir...ing a "mortal" penalty. Hope this meets with your kind approval."

My response:

"it does not
you see you all forget how powerful you are
what messages are already the status quo
and how you walk and write reinforces, schools, teaches and trains
And it is insidious. No one notices. except maybe a few
and when one is smart and big enough to recognize and admit that "this could have been done a different, better and less offensive way" for the meaning, measure and implication...one is actually required to correct it...for all those, especially in this society who thinks that is how life is supposed to be

Black women need to start being respected
It would be great if our black men rise up to the challenge

Thanks
Bless
Selah (pause and consider)"

next message, me to him as PS:

"and you know what?
It would be more cherished, and spirit filled if and when offered without it ever being asked ("by the good lady")"

 

------

Portia Bastaldo "OK. The amount of profanity that ran through my mind in reading Mr. Raphael's article was more than the average cussbud's daily use.

Someone needs to remind him that in section four of our existing constitution under religion, clearly states... “freedom of conscience and religious belief and observance.”

Who is Mr. Raphael to tell the woman she is attempting to politically blackmail the government? She indicated how she felt and what she would do "if" they enforced the law. Really wished that members of the previous UNC and PNM governments had the testicular fortitude to stand up and say that they disagreed with the views of majority when they felt it their actions were not in cohesion with basic morals and ethics taught in the nation's schools and homes.

There is no substantial evidence to show that hangings can reduce the spate of crimes so I appreciate Ms. St. Rose's stance on the matter."


and my further response:
Portia, I would be ever so grateful if you took it upon yourself to write mr., raphael yourself, copying the exact same post you just shared. I did. as you can see.,
it would help him to know and note I am not the only kook in town

i could no...t bother to deal with him and the level of thinking but even in responding to me, though on the face of it gracious, there was condescension there.

_________ __________
(wish i could write what those blanks are for)


-------
and Clevon Raphael's last response

i give him the final word. no response from me
also kind of amusing to me...throughout the whole exchange, reader can count how many apologies he makes, but yet, unwilling to man up and restate it publicly. people have no idea the myriad way...s in which they write, wrong or right their character for others to see.

this also reminds me of an invaluable website I was introduced to last year...privilege- by men, white people...and the blind spots it creates

back to my own perch

Clevon Raphael
to me

show details 6:27 AM (6 hours ago)

"While not trying to be dismissive of your admonitions I just want to put on record what I have been practising all my life - utmost respect for women and an undying passion and love for children. I repeat I do not think I committed a mortal sin and would only apologises if mrs. st rose asks for it. I don't think she would for the same reason I just mentioned. I am sorry that you have taken this discourse to that unimaginable level, raising doubts about my respect for women. I purposely did not say black women. I really think you are making a mountain out of a mole hill, pardon the cliche."

ode to tropical sheltering rain

hear nah/ that ehnt no joke rain falling. for a good forty minutes, one downfall to bathe in; one to wash dishes, another to wash clothes...and it rinsing now. and thunder coming, hitting, breaking hard and brash like one setta spirit lash on layaway. and it still coming. the shower break came at a good time, but i still miss plenty ...spouting ...

enduring life in the tropics is worth it for the bathing in the rain. nothing like it. that rain so good, it make hard soap soft. is the yard hard green soap i use cause it was there...when i tellya soft. rain so good it does make bad come./turn/.feel good. ahhh.

...it raining so hard chickens sheltering from the rain...lol

rain good ah tell ya
and every time it come to think about stopping, it start again...but once you come in and take a hot rinse off, you does cah go back out...it seems

my ode to rain glorious sheltering rain

Guest Blog to Share..Courtesy and Copyright, Daniel Pinchbeck

The Gulf Oil Spill as the Unfolding of Prophecy

Daniel Pinchbeck

As someone who has written extensively on indigenous prophecies relating to this time, it is hard for me to escape the uneasy presentiment that the massive, ceaseless, devastating cascade of what may be more than 100,000 barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico each day – apparently still mixed with the far more toxic dispersant Corexit that British Petroleum continues to inject, despite EPA objections – is anything but the inception of a new phase in the foretold unfolding of events that may terminate most life on earth, potentially leading to the rapid extinction of the human species. Recent articles reveal that there is a gigantic bubble of methane gas underneath the Gulf of Mexico, which has helped to create the enormous pressure that makes it unlikely, if not impossible, that the Deepwater Horizon oil spill can be stopped by human means. Video taken by undersea robots show oil and gas leaking from many fissures in the earth, far beyond the range of the well hole. This suggests that the underground containment structure is cracking apart. If the current effort to build relief wells fails or is ineffective, there are no more known technological fixes available.

According to  D. K. Matai, writing on The Huffington Post, “The “flow team” of the US Geological Survey estimates that 2,900 cubic feet of natural gas, which primarily contains methane, is being released into the Gulf waters with every barrel of oil.” If the estimates of over 100,000 barrels of oil leaking per day is correct, this means that over 16 billion cubic feet of gas may have been emitted, “making it one of the most vigorous eruptions in modern history,” writes Matai, an engineer and co-founder of The Asymmetric Threats Contingency Alliance. The huge methane deposits beneath the Gulf were well-known as a risk factor for drilling operations, which did not apparently dissuade corporations like British Petroleum from shirking regulatory safeguards in order to drill at the edge of known technology, 5,000 feet under the ocean floor and then 30,000 feet (imagine a distant speck of airplane far above the ground for a comparision) beneath that, into the core of the earth. Methane is a major contributor to global warming, turning into carbon dioxide once released.

What Matai along with other engineers, scientists, and journalists have laid out is a possible scenario where the methane, pushing up with enormous pressure, could lead to a gas explosion: “A methane bubble this large – if able to escape from under the ocean floor through fissures, cracks and fault areas – is likely to cause a gas explosion. With the emerging evidence of fissures, the tacit fear now is this: the methane bubble may rupture the seabed and may then erupt with an explosion within the Gulf of Mexico waters. The bubble is likely to explode upwards propelled by more than 50,000 psi [pounds per square inch] of pressure, bursting through the cracks and fissures of the sea floor, fracturing and rupturing miles of ocean bottom with a single extreme explosion.”

The methane gas explosion would be immediately followed by a series of enormous tsunamis engulfing Florida and the southern coast of the US. At the same time, during the day when this explosion takes place, “several billion barrels of oil and gas” will be released, as freezing water rushes into the enormous cavity, turning immediately into steam. There are many earthquake fault lines running from the Gulf through Mexico and much of the South West of America that might be triggered by a sudden collapse of the ocean floor due to such an event. “Could this be how nature eventually seals the hole created by the Gulf of Mexico oil gusher?” Matai asks. Of course, this is only one scenario, and it is unknown if this will occur, or what the timetable might be.

If such a devastating scenario does not take place, there is still the continuing spill, and the high likelihood that our current known and available technologies will be unable to address it. In this case, we may soon see the Gulf of Mexico area and the Southern coastline rendered uninhabitable. As the Christian Science Monitor has reported in its article, “Raining Oil in Louisiana? Video suggests Gulf oil spill causing crude rain,” there is some evidence that oil is beginning to rain down on inland areas of Louisiana. “Crude oil doesn’t evaporate, but some are speculating that oil mixed with Corexit 9500, the dispersant that BP is using on the ever-growing slick, could take to the air.” As Kerry Kennedy, from the Robert F Kennedy Center for Justice and Human Rights, stated in an interview on CNN,  the average life expectancy of cleanup workers on the Exxon Valdez oil spill was 51 years old. “Almost all those people who did work on the Exxon Valdez are now dead,” she stated. “And BP still here, once again, is big oil not giving the information to the doctors and health care officials.” According to Kennedy, cleanup workers in the Gulf “had been told by BP that the didn’t need respirators. Apparently, they’re concerned about poor media images of people wearing respirators and rubber gloves and starting, quote, ‘hysteria.’”

As widely reported, hurricane season is now upon us. Hurricanes could potentially carry the extremely toxic crude oil mingled with the even more poisonous Corexit hundreds of miles inland, creating either a slow-motion mass murder of the local populations or forcing the government to execute a total evacuation from the area. As the oil travels up the coastline over the next years, coastal cities facing the Atlantic and Pacific may also become uninhabitable “Haz Mat” sites. Caribbean islands such as Cuba and Jamaica will be devastated, as will be the coastline of Mexico.

As I explored in previous works, I am convinced that we are reaching the hinge point of a shift in human consciousness and the earth that will either lead to a rapid transformation of our way of life, our “civilization” and its basic paradigm, or the termination of our species in a series of intensifying cataclysms. One clear reason for this is that our technological powers continue to advance rapidly, while those who are currently in control of these galvanic forces reveal a dangerously reduced consciousness, a lack of forethought based on their self-centered greed, combined with a complete absence of ethical and moral development. As Rolling Stone recently exposed in a great piece of investigative journalism, the bungled handling of the oil spill was preceded by the gutting of the regulatory system that monitored such operations, revealing once again the government’s capitulation to corporate interests. It seems increasingly obvious that, if we wish to survive as a species, the current ruling corporate, political, and financial elite – working seamlessly together to bring about our collective suicide – must be deposed, replaced by a new orchestration of civil society, an openly democratic and truly transparent system, where nothing is hidden, where profit is not the only motivation, and all have a voice.

As the Deepwater Horizon cataclysm spreads gigantic dead zones in the Gulf, exterminating vast ecosystems of marine life, threatening millions of human beings with illness, dislocation, and death, potentially blossoming into an extinction-level event, British Petroleum CEO Tony Hayward continues to display the profound lack of remorse and the blithe disinterest we recall from the tenure of the last Bush to occupy the White House. Recently, he attended a yacht race off the as-of-yet-unsullied English coast, while his public statements include the infamous “I’d like my life back” and the equally extraordinary, “The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean.” Despite extensive scientific documentation of the extreme toxicity of crude oil, Hayward has suggested that “growing health problems among clean-up workers may be related to food poisoning, rather than their exposure to crude oil and dispersants.” Our corporate and financial culture instills a mindset of sociopathic disregard, and the system permits certain psychological profiles to thrive within it: those capable of disassociating their actions from any moral consequences. What should be an extreme liability in a complex and interconnected world shared by a multitude of living beings has become an asset for our corporate, financial, and political masters – the current ruling elite who congregate at events like the annual Bilderberg gathering, who see massive loss of life as “collateral damage” along the way to their next golf game or yachting match. By now, it seems fairly obvious that Barack Obama is one of this breed, indistinct from the rest.

“These deformed individuals lack the capacity for empathy,” writes Chris Hedges in his essay, ‘BP and the Little Eichmanns.’ “They are at once banal and dangerous. They possess the peculiar ability to organize vast, destructive bureaucracies and yet remain blind to the ramifications. … The corporations, and those who run them, consume, pollute, oppress and kill. The little Eichmanns who manage them reside in a parallel universe of staggering wealth, luxury and splendid isolation that rivals that of the closed court of Versailles. The elite, sheltered and enriched, continue to prosper even as the rest of us and the natural world start to die… And our business schools and elite universities churn out tens of thousands of these deaf, dumb and blind systems managers who are endowed with sophisticated skills of management and the incapacity for common sense, compassion or remorse.” Like the bail out of Wall Street, the BP oil spill disaster makes evident – if more evidence was needed – that, in the United States, the corporations and the government have merged into a single power, a destructive force founded on the mindset of Empire, seeking domination of nature through technology, and control of consciousness through incessant indoctrination via the corporate-controlled media. There is zero possibility that our atrophied electoral system will interrupt or impede this juggernaut.

I try to maintain faith that the human spirit will awaken in time to liberate itself from the prison that has been built around it. While my doubts grow, I continue to work for that result – to hope and to pray for it. What seems more likely is that the great churning multitude of humanity will choose to remain distracted, disconnected, pursuing narcissistic aims, vain and virtual pleasures, as the natural world, the generative earth, crumbles around them. On what the Russian mystic G I Gurdjieff called our “ill-fated planet,” most people apparently prefer to die rather than awaken to the situation, think for themselves, and join together in a collective movement to restore the earth and build a sustainable and equitible global society. Many of us can see the awakening happening, but it seems to be coming far too slowly, in hesitant fits and starts, while the destructive force also grows in strength, pumping up the volume on mind control technologies, predatory drones able to assassinate from a distance, data-mining intelligence operations, and all the rest of the sterile evils that our technocrat sociopaths can envision and unleash.

These are aspects of my current view of the world: the faltering of my faith, that horrible presentiment that the forces of disillusion and destruction have already triumphed, that creepy familiar feeling (as if I already experienced this, long ago, on some other lost world, many forgotten splinters of incarnated lifetimes ago) of failure and futility. On another level, I feel an equally uncanny presentiment that all of this is still going perfectly according to plan, that the script of our collective world movie/space oddysey has to unscroll or unfurl in just this stomach-clenching way, toward its still mysterious denouement. Observing my own life, I see that it often takes a drastic crisis to spur me into action – perhaps that is the only way change ever takes place, on the individual or species level.

The environmental and economic meltdown could clear away all the obstacles and obstructions that keep us from attaining clarity, from putting into practice what we know intuitively to be true. Is it possible that the Jungian archetypal Self – the increasingly humanized god-image that seeks to incarnate in our human world – must bring about the complete breakdown of what is known and familiar, to open the space for what can only be revealed, in the fullness – and emptiness – of time? Perhaps we can only reach the depth dimensions of our higher being through an unfolding mega-crash that exposes all levels of delusion and self-deception, that forces those of us who desire illumination to break all the bonds, the “mind-forg’d manacles,” that keep us from attaining liberation. Or perhaps I am only making a hopeful story out of the toxic rubble and radioactive fragments that will soon be all that remains of our ruined world, if the corporate sociopaths and Little Eichmanns have their way.

I consider the geyser in the Gulf to be analagous to the rupturing of the amniotic sac that occurs at the end of  pregnancy. This event presages the birth of the new being, who must be forced by a terrifying and life-threatening crisis to use the organs he or she has developed over the previous months – developed without knowing what purpose they serve or how they function. Like the fetus at the end of the pregnancy, the human race has devoured the stored resources within our mother’s secure womb, the fossil fuels buried deep underground, and now we must learn to survive on new forms of energy, taking the initiative on our own.

Over the course of history, humanity has developed delicate and sensitive organs of consciousness and perception, without truly knowing their eventual meaning or purpose. Unlike other species, we have a tremendous excess of communicative capacity, leading us to make art, write novels, dance, compose symphonies, imagine elaborate inner worlds. How do we know that these seemingly marginal aspects – aspects that seem to have little to do with our survival as a species – are not, in fact, essential to our unfolding evolutionary trajectory? Aboriginals in Australia believe the sacred task of humanity is to “sing the world into being,” communicating with the ancestors in the Dreamtime. Perhaps, through an awakening of our imaginative and psychic faculties, we can restore this primordial communion, and reopen doorways that modern society slammed shut long ago.

Our creative capacities are one legacy of our species’ recent history, a new extension or organ of  consciousness that has developed along with our increasing technical and technological capabilities. Another aspect of our evolution can be found in the world’s esoteric knowledge systems. These systems give us tools for evolving consciousness, for perceiving and interacting with other dimensions of reality. We learn from the traditions of mystery schools that humans are capable of performing marvelous and magical feats that overturn the apparent physical “laws” proposed by science. Up until now, such manifestations have appeared rarely, usually linked to a particular person – books like In Search of the Miraculous or The Autobiography of a Yogi describe many psychic feats of certain masters. In our modern desacralized world, there are also many well-reported accounts of “miracles” – inexplicable psychic phenomena – such as mothers suddenly able to lift 3,000 pound vehicles off of their children after an accident, and so on – acounts of powers that exist in one moment, but afterwards seem to fade into nonexistence.

In the same way that electricity was once inaccessible to us until engineers learned to channel it in the early 19th Century, is it conceivable that these psychic or psycho-physical capacities could become steadily available to people through a disciplined training, once the mechanisms behind them are better understood? I believe that we are currently in transition from the physical to the psychic phase of our evolution as a species. In order to manifest this, we would need to develop a shared realization that such a shift is possible. This requires an open dialogue on the legitimacy of psychic phenomena and synchronicity, building a foundation for general acceptance of the powers and potencies contained within the psyche. I am compelled by Rupert Sheldrake’s theories around “morphic resonance” and the “morphogenetic field” that forms when sudden inspirations and breakthroughs become habits and patterns, creating what scientists mistakenly call “laws.” Those who have broken through to a new level of understanding need to create the template, strengthen the morphogenetic field, before the larger population can comprehend what is happening, and make a transition.

It is now agonizingly obvious that humans do not change their ways until they are far outside of their comfort zone. It is only at the point of death that transmutation becomes possible. Perhaps the rampant desecration of the physical world is going to force the more conscious subset of humanity to purify their intentions, clearing cobwebs from the shadowy corners of the psyche, to access extrasensory capacities on a regular basis. Many of us have experiences of this energy, this potential, but the manifestations tend to occur at uncontrollable junctures and in mysterious ways. In my own life, I have found that psychically charged events occur at certain highly charged junctures, which seem to reveal the working of a synchronic order, as if some form of superconsciousness, when magnetized by the energy of intention, can ripple through the underpinnings of our 3-D reality, causing changes that seem beyond the parameters of what we generally accept as possible. Can we learn to access these capacities on a regular basis, like the dependable current we get from electricity? If we can come into alignment with this superconscious shaping force, we may be able to begin to heal the wounds of Gaia, to stop tormenting the generative earth that shelters us and gives us life. I think it is quite possible that even the course of seemingly unstoppable biospheric and geophysical events, like climate change or the oil spill, could be altered through collective psychic effort, much as indigenous groups like the Hopi used initiatory ritual and trance dances to bring rain down from the sky.

I pray this is the universe’s wager for us: that we will go beyond our current ruts and limitations, that we will manifest a future of imaginative joy by stepping into our potential, becoming the wizards, warriors, and initiates that the world needs so desperately now. As Nietzsche pointed out accurately, “man”, in his current form, can only be a transitional creature. Either we are rapidly approaching the terminus point for our species or we can collectively choose to transmute, creating an evolutionary implosion, from the physical to the psychic realm. As the oil gushes forth and the earth’s resources disappear, it may be that we can learn to thrive on subtler and far more powerful forms of energy. Working together, we can guide the world toward its next phase of being – a plateau of intensified consciousness and synchronic coherence, in which conscious evolution becomes both sacred game and participatory art form.

 
Image: "Phoenix" by Jurvetson on Flickr courtsey of Creative Commons Licensing  

(this was so great I had to share, post everywhere) 

Sister Shirley Sherrod/ Vilsacks' Sorry Apology--comments on a press conference

talk about that history at the USDA; and its intersection with "race" and call me in to present and revive my master's thesis

 Sister Shirley should not even go back./ Never go back. Just move forward.. Take forever to see what rises, but don't go back. And lobby for Vilsack's job. If he is so regrettable, let him offer his job. Learn so deeply that you step down. this double standard cant work. Who is going to come forward and say the treatment metered out to her was reverse racism? and deal with that as its own entity

 Ask for Vilsack's job Sister Shirley 

great question by reporter: "if she was so highly and well qualified, why was she not given a more senior position in the USDA???!!!! HELLO mfr

 "uniquely qualified"  I can venture an answer                ask...  ask

 how much is an apology worth for a national faux pas of grand proportions to a national/federal official???!!! 

Visack should lose his fricking JOB< that is what!!!!! and time I am going to keep until that happens.

 i only hope Sister Sherrod, knows how much to charge those cracker jokers for "moving forward"

http://www.google.tt/search?q=shirley+sherrod&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a

 

 

 

 

Homework to Study Wednesday, July 21, 2010

http://socialprofitformula.com/social-profit-landscape/

Pa Neezer

The Weave of Previous Lives into a Whole Web Tuesday July 20, 2010

I awaken this morning from a dream where it was clear that I was releasing my years of pain, hurt and stagnancy to a long time friend, a release as it were; and do you know his response in the dream, in front of his wife? He cried. He was crying with me. Is that amazing; for the symbolism with an old long lost friend, for the warmth, for the proof of connection. And in the dream the couple housed me and someone else, unexpectedly, in the most total of fashion…as to sit with us in the room talking, and a way embracing and loving us.In this morning reflection, when I consider all the threads of my life, I realize I am or seeking, even if unknown up to this point, to connect them into some functional, holding, reliable, weave that tells the whole and truth of who I am. And the people holding those threads were the friends in times and places in previous: my friends from high school, college, graduate school, on the sideways along my life journey.

[And I cant even write this with focus, distracted I am that my wireless is and has not been working, and this morning, seems to be totally wiped out from my computer]

I just think seem to be putting humpty dumpty back together again: reconnecting with my high school crew, considering my longtime desire to return to New York city, and then, last night, from FB, I discovered POV/American Documentary advertising three job vacancies. I tried to work for them years before in or around 2000. All three jobs are in New York City. Then, no sooner did I submit for those jobs, I found another post of a creative entrepreneur who is looking for people to social media and link tourists up to interesting events and sites in their cities. One of the sites: New York City.

The significance of this revelation of me weaving the disparate threads is the title of this blog: “all my former selves”, I realize I am weaving, trying, into one.

Further significance of this revelation is that if you release your ego controlling knowing everything self, your higher self, your Hig Her Self will take over and lead you where, when, how you need to be with the words that best signify the purpose: All My Former Selves

Good Morning

more who dream of me....

"Muggins dear. I had this eerie dream, n you were starring. :)) We were in a world far much advanced, wide open space, very many ppl but equally organized. it wasn't earth, for sure. you were flying, saying sth like "it's my time, it's my time." U asked me for 2 things, u said they were very important (not sure of their significance) - DVD player and vacuum cleaner *(laugh laugh)* U explained that u had to play sth of GREAT import with the DVDp, but i knew u werent going to use the vacuum thingie for its intended purpose- it was for sth far more innovative, jus cant remb. significance????

were u there, too?? u must be glad ppl take time to dream of you;)"


"i never saw ur posts abt dvds, only remb seein u watchn 2012. i read sigmund freud's interpretation of dreams years back, old guy said sth like flyin in dreams signifies freedom from previous bondage/attachment/etc, and the person's readiness to venture far n wide. maybe u are. the "it's my time" might mean we're entering ur age- age of the Aquarius. now u tell me wat's with the vacuum- or is it just i losin' it in my dreams?
i/we cherish u, whether or not u realize it..."



"let it stay, sweets, let it be. it means to me a lot that it even means anything to you. naah, my sister knows i like you too much, only she is not sure of ur gender (can u imagine?? :)) dont quote me on that, haha. but she luv's u, she keeps telling me you're too bright.
true, computer friends, so close yet so far away. wishing u a good life.
Kisses."

another sweet message...
and i have crossed the line i feel
but i might have an addiction an can't he;lp myself
so used to being bastardized, cant resist to show that somewhere, someone, embraces

Dawn's Compendium July 19, 2010

Silence Calls and Beckons Noise of Living
i wonder what it must be like to be at Mt. St. Benedict
a high mountain of Trinidad's norther range
that houses a Catholic church, retreat and abbey
to be in the cathedral at night
right before and into daybreak
with nothing, but if, candlelight
praying in silence, meditative reflection and devotion
it seems my body, mind and soul
cries out for, yearns for that cosmic union
reconsideration and touch


in the minutes before now
I was up or at least aware of the night
how unusually silent and still
for in this place there is never any respite
from such cacophonous ills
if it is not birds, all manner of land fowl,
dogs, horns, engines, tires, brakes, and music
passing by, rarely a still hour
but not so this night and it plunged me into
a form of self, one lost if not just faraway
one that i would be hard pressed to corral into words
let a lone word
but the silence and need for prayer called out to me
as if from red riding hood from the world of wolves
in a forest of living
asking pleading for a withdrawal
a time out
a game pause

and then almost immediately upon my recognition
the Muslim morning call to prayer
and as if by sequence, police sirens
and while waiting for the computer to fire up
so i can put these words to perpetuity
the birds

Good Monday Morning
5:27 am July 19, 2010


//

early morning words that resonate

Duncan: "I'm amazed how many people are saying no to Love and seeing how I said no so much for so long.."

.//

Aquarius

A showdown of sorts may be the key to achieving your wishes this week even if you feel alone as you go through it and it is time to put your indecision behind you so that you can take the opportunities being presented to you and affect some change in your own life.  A balanced outlook will see you taking control over the direction of your life so that you might break down the walls that have sprung up around you but this may mean moving quickly to leave behind you all that no longer serves you.  You may feel controlled by having to do this but in the end you will have victory and a water sign or more emotional female in your life will support you as you wait to see your world coming together.

http://darkmoonpsychics.webs.com/tarotscope.htm

as Shango descends...

i usually call Yemanja/Yemoja; Osun and Ogun; but something about that Shango resonates for me; my birth date, his sword, art and dance, swift justice, male; sky, resistance,  and strategy...all things of me

In Yorùbá religion, Sàngó is perhaps the most popular Orisha; he is a Sky Father..., god of thunder and lightning. Sango was a royal ancestor of the Yoruba as he was the third king of the Oyo Kingdom. In the Lukumí (Olokun mi = "my dear one") religion of the Caribbean, Shango is considered the center point of the religion as he represents the Oyo people of West Africa. This ceremony survived the Middle Passage and is considered to be the most complete to have arrived on Western shores. This variation of the Yoruba initiation ceremony became the basis of all Orisha initiations in the West.The energy given from this Deity of Thunder is also a major symbol of African resistance against an enslaving European culture. He rules the color red and white; his sacred number is 6; his symbol is the oshe (double-headed axe), which represents swift and balanced justice. His dominance is over male sexuality and human vitality, in general. He is owner of the Bata (3 double-headed drums), as well as the Arts of Music, Dance and Entertainment. Shango can be deduced, in some regards, to be the essence of "strategy" (logic and passion drawn and fashioned precisely to achieve some end).

Harmonic Possibilities in a Key of E Sunday July 18, 2010

Todd, Clemson, SC
"museum & botanical garden director/univ. prof./writer "
(as dynamic as I)

Robert, Decatur, IL
"I work part time medical. Locum tenums, I travel part time to areas in need of ..."
(seems to be a volunteer doctor)

Michael, NY, NY
"writer"
(likes to dance)

Ken, Gainseville, FL
"Research/train- education, democracy, governance h-right"
(boat in Trinidad)

George, Tuscon, AZ
"physician"

Marcelo, Delray. FL
"Attorney"

Franklin,
San Francisco, CA
"Pacific Islander"
"Property Evaluator"

James
Santa Fe, NM
"Writer"

John
Tokyo, Japan
"Finance, Banking"

Mark
Mobley, MO
"chiropractor"

Bob
Boulder, CO
"business owner"

James E
Las Vegas, NV
"Lawyer"

Sam
El Portal, CA
"Yosemite tour bus driver"

i have decided to start a list saturday july 17, 2010

 a list describing the man of my dreams:

1. he wears guyaberas
2. he drinks exotic wonderful tasting deep rich coffee
3. he knows and drinks natural cocoa from the Caribbean or Gold Coast, not out of a can or wrapper
4. he wears cultural natural clothing from India, Africa, the Pacific, ethnic clothing from the East, Asia
5. has magnificently wonderful meticulous hands and feet, toes and fingernails
6. he is brilliant, smart, wise and skillful
7. he is kind and gentle, yet, laudably respected
8. he has traveled the world
9. he is a successful entrepreneur/ social contributor/mentor
10. he has a green hand: everything grows therein and flowers therefrom
11. he is FINE/gorgeous and humble about it/unaffected
12. has nice handwriting
13. waiting for me to have his children/ sons and a daughter
14. he is The Friend to my Soul; my Rumi; my Kahlil Gibran, my Buddha
15. he is a making love guru
16. he know how to chef, mix drinks
17. he is creative/artistic/.problem solver
18. he knows how and keeps a lovely warm peaceful good energy home

(i will stop for now: 7:17pm Saturday July 17, 2010)
and i did not just make that up. perhaps it is an omen that i am on the right vibration and timing
the stars are now aligned for me

in a soon post, I must tell you about me and numbers**

19. he is clean, neat; a meticulous freak, and smells good, with and without cologne/he wears Egyptian Musk among other things; and gets his scents handmade, as his suits, bespoke

20. he uses wet wipes
21. does not pick his nose or have buggers

22. (something is missing here)
      dapper dresser/suits, elegant and avantgarde

23. has a head thick of (curly wavy) hair

All my Former Selves Indeed Saturday July 17, 2010

all my former selves indeed
i had no idea how poignant, accurate, prophetic and providential that statement when I wrote it the other day...i was just reaching for words when I hastily put up this blog; having avoided, averted, and  procrastinated its creation for a host of reasons, and could no longer so carry on--and to write my friend and supporter, Yvette, whose request request it was.

 I just had the opportunity to once again mention Pa Neezer, (http://www.google.tt/search?q=pa+neezer&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a) as well as my Gramma and Grannie, --three healers on my father's side of the family who are my cousin, twice removed, Ebenezer Elliott, my great grandmother, Annaliza Huggins, and my grandmother Ruth Huggins, respectively. And realize, "all my former selves" indeed as I know I am walking an ancestral journey, in a cauldron to collect and connect my selves as incarnated in those with whom I share a line and a purpose...Healer, Alchemist, Magician.

Brooklyn, James Madison HS 83

in a late night revelry; never know how far you have traveled until you look back

then i think it would be wonderful to meet with old folk again; wonderful to hear who they thought you were back then; to get a sense and grounding and location of self.


if i am ever blessed with children, the two sons I believe I am to have, I will tell them to hold onto folk, even if remotely in a hangar. I have learned that you never connect and hook with folk as when you are young; i  don't know if for a previous time, place, culture and context, different was true, but for me, making new friends, real friends, with genuine people, as a mature adult if not grown person, seems harder if not impossible.

Cheers to my High School Years. Cheers to my NYC childhood, life and days

Abundantly Filled Grace worth Sharing:..of that One's words: none higher.

'some one had something good to say about me. And of that one's words, there is none higher.

"Maven,

I am allowed to want things. I want something simple where you are concerned. I want my life journey to give me the opportunity to do more for you than offer you loving or flattering words. You deserve better than praise and compliments. You deserve me stripped of wit and pretense so I could just give you something lingering in the heart from the simplest and most decent place.

I love your wit. I love your spirit and philosophy and self-rigor. I think the only way I can really honor you is by rising well above my moments of self-doubt. I want to share a meal with you and laugh with you and be challenged by your ideas into self-examination. I will become a better man preparing for the day I meet you. I hope I can match you in how real you are moment to moment.

You're quite inspirational. I believe even my best words are not enough to match what you bring to others on your most mediocre days.

Neal"
Neal Klein July 15 at 9:50pm 

waiting on my friend's dreams

from May 7, 2010...
"Melise,

I dreamt you last night. Can't really remember the details too much but some guy who looked
like some super star American Football player ... Jason Seahorn? .... was in love with you
and then Chadwick proposed so Jason had to play second fiddle.

Ok, have no idea what that dream means but anywho ... thought I should tell you.

XOX
Nicole"

Thursday,July 15, 2010 Tears, Culture, Ethnic Context, Love and Admiration at Beginner's Educational Development and Graduation

I went to my niece's early education childhood graduation this morning. It was four hours and forty minutes long. Too long. All get bored in that program and it is the second such in my family; both my nieces attended there: the Bright Lights Early Education Center. I don't know. I might be making things up. I do know Bright Lights play prominent in program offerings and on the decor flag. But I have to write about it because despite the boredom, the overlong program and the tedium with every possible human being getting an award, parents being recognized for their time and finance contributions, to the teachers, and those who contribute space, food, video printing and other breathing purposes...I cried. I cried and teared, so much so my older niece, Maya, asked me why i was crying.

I cried because I saw what it is allows for some people, some persons, some cultures to flourish and others to languish. I must tell you my family and children (nieces) are ostensibly African, but we are mixed with a lot and our DNA, the women, anyway, would identify us as Spanish, Venezuelan, what we in Trinidad call cocopayol. Some may know that the mitochondria and the dna of women do not change through time nor mix; that whom ever your mother was, she is her mother and so on. So we are phenotypically African, with Chinese eyes, with Native Indian heritage, and Spanish Venezuelan blood attending an East Indian Hindu school. Yes.
 In Trinidad and Tobago that means something. It is kind of unusual, in a class of twenty-five children, only about five were African. There is a separation of sorts, of a kind between ethnic groups, and so sown for political purposes and reinforced along racial* (created) and religious lines, so rarely is there a mix between Africans and Hindus, but do not by that assume that there are not children of such mixed unions, there are, so much so they have their own designation: Dougla.

But the children at that school are held, coddled, acknowledged, clapped, encouraged, supported, for every little thing. and I could not help but notice the effect of such showering, such love. And i have to recognize and see it is in the context of the Hindu culture, context and family that is so; the collective is of a bond strong, and we are able to partake of it because of this school. Being in the presence of such support emphasized what is lacking in the African family context; no parents, no father, and surely not that level of investment and care given to children. Let me tell you for those little tikes, under five years old most, the cost for graduation is a cool $1500. Just graduation, not tuition.

I was also struck at the operations of the school. It is not a school where you drop your child off and run. No. It is a school where parents participate: cook a pot, hang decorations, wipe noses, sweep floors, and the Principal acknowledged them, indicating that it is easy to give money, sign a check, but to make the time to invest in your children and other people's children and to give of your time, given all your other pressures, challenges, and demands. The emphasis on community and collective made me cry and tear a bit more.

The other significant aspect of the school is that it is Family Run: the mother is the Principal, her husband seems to be the all present extra hand, usually taking photos, present at every function. Children I believe are involved, but not sure. But today, I saw Nani, the Principal's mother. And how did i notice her>? She called my oldest niece and talked to her, not sure what she told her but felt it had something to do with how she was dressed, in a traditional madras cotton dress that I bought for them. ( i like ole time ting)..and then again, at the end of the ceremony, Nani talked to the graduand, MariElle, and gave her one big hug. I had to take a photograph, this old lovely lady dressed complete with her orni, hugging this dark black African child, and she the Nani looking like MariElle's greatgrandmother or her great aunts still living. These kinds of complexities and commonalities for a place like Trinidad, I like to capture as it is so often taken for granted or ignored in modern day.

 The other thing that struck me is that of those twentyfive children, all the fathers were present for their child's early childhood graduation. All except one. .................................................. that one would be of an African child. That one would be my in law.  I cant tell some truth and not all. I cant bear some of my soul and not all. I cant tell a story and leave parts out. sad but true, but not that much, you get used to uselessness.

Anyway, that struck me as well, the presence of fathers, and one of the speakers too from the Ministry of Education asked the fathers to stand and I counted them, there were about twenty-eight so I realized men stood who may not even have had children in the program

One collective effort, to ensure, cultivate, grow and succor children into lovely beings. and I understood there clearly why "the Indian children running away with academic achievement"

Now this flowery story telling is not to say there are not prickly situations. Like the fact that my niece was the only child dark and lovely as bronzed oil not to have her flag of herself pictured to hold as all the other children. And in previous programs we recognized that the darker lovelier children are not given prominent roles in plays and programs, and we do get a slight tinge of feeling that maybe they may not be as longingly held...but again, that was challenged today...the principal in her address talked of one child in particular who said to her, "MissIanthe, I have you imagined in my mind"...and the principal could not even get it out without pausing to clear her throat to let the tear that welled up pass before she said, "I knew what she meant, that she had me in her heart (tear tear, deep breath and pause)" before Principal indicated which child said that...it was mine; my MariElle, who is everybody's saltfish and darling.

I teared again, to see the bond of love and admiration between two differing pairs and it mean enough to Principal to choke her up and to mention it to a crowd of us gathered, spoken of the one standing out on stage. my dark loving African child, to her Hindu Indian Principal, and I cried again. There is Love Abounding in unexpected places.

Well, don't talk about love. This same MariElle was sitting sandwiched between two Indian little boys, one holding and pulling her hands, both of them, as if he wanted to pull her into him. And this is not the little boy who she has already told her mother she would marry. No her intended is Jude Lalla, another cutie a few seats away.

ahhh...a day of tears and fullness, hope and dreams of lives better lived through our children, to make ours worth living...that was graduation at Bright Eyes Early Education today. I cried.


PS> Daddy did show up at the end, just as individual family pics were being taken *

Latest Big Muse

The Caribbean (CARICOM) Technical Institute of Life Skills, Problem Solving and Critical Thinking

so Blogger refuses a silly post for meta content.
i wonder if it is the prayers, the death, or the sex

on death and dying and praying for the departed

One of Trinidad and Tobago's National Treasures, though he be treated less than so

"I suppose it is my fault for openly trusting someone who on the surface appeared to project respectability and the assumed common professional values of honesty and decency. But a neat shirt and tie appearance and the offer of a cup of coffee can be so deceptive, as so much of the advertising business is. I wasted my time and lost my books and a family heirloom is gone forever. It is difficult to comprehend how anyone can invite you into their space and behave in such a way. Nevertheless I suppose it is a matter of having spent all my life much detached from the reality of the coarseness of that lower end of the bell curve of commercial life, even those with international names"

bomb indictment of the society ~ the coarseness of the bell curve, whole

http://www.trinidadexpress.com/commentaries/98296239.html

the illustrious Mr. Julian Kenny

July 13, 2010 Resilient loneliness is not for the weak of heart

"Being an independent can win you a lot of things: an election, even re-election, and new policies. But that’s not the same as having people like you"

why am i so in sync with Schwarzenegger?

"Put another way, independents are to politics what diets are to eating. Everyone loves what they promise, but then dislike them intensely when they actually have to live with them"

 the bitterness of this truth would burn were i not so inured by now; but that does not mean it is without the tears and sadness

resilient loneliness is not for the weak of heart

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/11/weekinreview/11steinhauer.html?_r=1&hpw

FB page is my BlogHer Page

12

one accomplishment for the day: questioneverythingevenyourself

11

blogger says I am the only economist-writer-artist; i wonder if there are others in a different order?

10

Gratitude for Glen Ramdharsingh, Minister of Social Development; on the scene, and rendering service personally. Sad thing when you try to tell a supposed friend, who now must be feel he reach some heights, of Ms. Rosa Nanton and lets go and give a hand...and he will tell me, "I need a purpose for my life"/ \There is n...o heaviness sufficient for the madness that prowls this land

‎9

"this is a mad society, you know; so you must play mad too" Ian Alleyne. TNTCrimeWatch.org

8
Rachel Thoo gave me He♡rt and S☼ul

7

mesime monfrere Marvel, eh

http://www.box.net/shared/3zxh48c9l8#/shared/3zxh48c9l8/1/46600394/465078182/1

‎6

"my too insertion of strong self"

5

a home for the indigent so i can house myself

4

the snake always answers what the question I have yet to frame
"Maven, You have a lot of good ideas today, but they may be a bit ahead of their
time. Don't be overly eager to get your thoughts in front of others.
Focus on getting them down on paper first. You may find better ideas
come to you if you slow yourself down a... bit"

3

thinking that some of the places, programs, entities i have applied to, in apparent lack of success as narrowly defined, and in long hindsight, wonder if it is possible that i and others apply for what is below you, what you have already passed through in some form, and transcended...? like applying to the fellowship o...n the 5th floor when you are really (who knew?) on the 8th, exiting to enter the 9th or 10th...

2

Not sure what to say; being flip wont get it/ but on serious thought wonder if the science is shifting so that men do become women...and then those of ancient memory will get to say to them, 'well, you always wanted to control women, their bodies and choices, so t/here you are

http://www.rhrealitycheck.org/blog/2010/07/07/millennium-developmentguys

1

last night in a dream, with a mixed gaggle of women (twiddling their thumbs and wanting to up their ante, I think), deciding to market their wares to men and the thought to create their own new space as opposed to working out of someone else's place, and one where 'floods', I piped up to offer to organize and decorate ...the house, "keep it clean and cook for the women and guest". Interesting. i awaken this morning wondering if it was from my last thoughts before sleep: to open a hideaway home for women, children and the aged, where they can be delivered, no papers, no questions, no money: be cleaned, showered, bathed, fed, pampered, rested and housed. (for how long?) life themes, dreams and schemes: Goddess Teach and Rescue

and as always, i do things ass backwards.
the only saving grace is that it always works out for me, my greatest good
Her Higher Self
another better name for this blog

Profile in Continuation

http://www.blogger.com/profile/14940226045998670935

truthpoet

• Age: 45
• Astrological Sign: Aquarius
• Zodiac Year: Snake
• Industry: Consulting
• Occupation: Economist, Artist, Writer
• Location: Traveler : World

About Me

i am a poet, writer, economist, perennial student/learner, seeker, who lives for the muse and the next adventure

What would you name your ballet inspired by the sight of children leaping through a garden sprinkler?

FreeJoy Desiderata

Interests

• cultural travels
• writing
• film
• cooking/eating
• aesthetics
• comfort

Favorite Movies

• too many
• no favorites

Favorite Music

• definitely too many
• no favorites. I love world music: African
• Latin
• Caribbean
• old school R&B
• old school hip hop
• old school club music
• soul music

Favorite Books

• too many
• no favorites
• When I left a previous home I dismantled a 2000 book library of titles that spanned every possible topic from religion & science to indigenous literature (Caribbean
• African
• Indian) to world and African-American history
• politics
• economics
• art
• language dictionaries
• popular fiction and non fiction
• reference
• health
• spirituality and shamanism materials. I Love Books and the written word

My Blogs	Team Members
Traveling Globalization
Teach-Learning & Traveling Globalization

? Monday is Sundance Doc Day

Today is Monday July 12, 2010
And right now it is exactly 9 pm
Having just got a tongue lashing from my friend Yvette who asked me to blog, oh about a year ago? after a previous short stint blogging for a traveling faculty position...i am returning..with not a good pot to piss in ~ no clear title of this blog; no witty name or address; and surely not clear of the purpose of having anything worthwhile to say. why stay? I am just trying to get started. I am trying to pick myself up from the squash i became after Yvette bussed me over. I am writing. I am blogging.

(roll the eyes)

So this initial post is called Sundance Doc Day...and I am documenting my perplexity of a start
Sundance is one of my favorite channels as I dream of one day being a filmmaker, the script already much done...Ant Bites, Fragments of a Life...about my return to Trinidad and Tobago, written in 2004, at least started then. It is not done, plenty stories to add.

I title this blog all my former selves because in searching for my old blog, I discovered I wrote under my favorite long time moniker, truth poet. I am a poet. I have nine volumes or so of poetry, maybe about 500 pieces; 200 good ones, maybe? Then I write on FB, which is really my blog as maven cause I am...Jill of Trades. Ah, that should have been my title Maven, Jill of Trades. My old blog said I am the only blogger who is an Economist-Writer-Artist, and that should have been my address.

But as confused as I was, I had to get started. I had to seize the day.
This day.