The Buffalo

(An excerpt from my novel, "Wilderness").

We’d intended to have breakfast in bed, and spend a lazy morning lying around in the crisp morning air while San Francisco slowly woke up around us. We’d planned on enjoying the breaking of dawn together, and the swelling warmth of the sun as it rose over the rooftops of the neighborhoods off to the east. It had shaped up to be a brilliant beginning to a Saturday, and because the Richmond district is considerably elevated from the downtown area of San Francisco, from my rooftop we could see all the way across the Bay to the Berkeley Hills.

Since we already had a good start on the day, Marty and I decided to go see the buffalo over on the west end of Golden Gate Park, and then take a leisurely walk out to Ocean Beach, and the Lands End trails from there. We threw Wag in the Jeep, jumped in behind him, and hit the still quiet streets of San Francisco. Because hardly anybody else was even out of bed yet, we felt like bandits in the process of stealing the best part of everybody else’s day. We stopped in at Royal Grounds on Geary Blvd. at 17th for orange juice and bagels, then just a couple of minutes later pulled quietly off the road near the buffalo enclosure in the Park.

Marty had never been out there before, but it had been a regular destination for me for several years. I’d always go in the early morning, although every once in a while I’d stop by in the late evening. I’d usually ride my bike, or run, if I felt particularly energetic. It always helped me work out accumulated stress, and I really enjoyed the personal interaction with these magnificent creatures. There was never anyone else around. In all the time that I’d been visiting the buffalo I might have encountered other people fewer times than I could count on the proverbial fingers of one hand. It was the best-kept secret in all of San Francisco, and I felt good to share it with Marty.

She was breathless as we walked up to the pasture, and as the buffalo began calmly migrating over towards us she whispered to me that she hoped she doesn’t wet her pants. She was beside herself with awe, and a not-too-well-concealed excitement. I pointed Napoleon out to her. He was the smallest male, but had the biggest self-identity. Ego, if you will. In his mind he was Sasquatch, he was Moses on the Mountain, he was the Sun God, he was Geronimo, and Chief Joseph too.
I never knew his real name. Might even be Napoleon, for all I know.

Silent half-snorts of warm breath in the cool morning air made the scene more a surreal painting than a private gathering of man and beast. These were creatures that looked you in the eye when communicating with you, unlike many of the two-legged variety I encounter throughout the regular course of my usual day. There is an ancient wisdom actually visible, a soul behind the eyes that is unmistakable in these animals. There is also a sadness, and an expectation of understanding that few other creatures would have of you.

We extended our hands through the fence. A couple of them licked Marty’s fingers, and she said she wished she could hug them. She said they possess such incredible warmth, and such accessibility for being such magnificent animals, and that she really had no idea they were so enormous. We interacted physically with them as best we could, then became quiet, both of us, transfixed really, as we spent another half hour just looking, just speaking with them silently, as one would commune with oneself, or with an angel of God, on top of a very sacred mountain.

We left feeling different, as I always have after time in the company of the buffalo.
Marty said she understood why I’ve always come here.
She said she’d like to come back with me again, as soon as we possibly could.

The Window

I like the way that in the morning, when the light’s just right, I can look through my window and see a deep reflection of what’s behind me. Oh, I can see what’s in front of me through the window as well; the outside, the forest, the meadow, the sky, the sunrise, but the window holds another dimension that allows me to see what’s behind me in the house. I see what’s in back of me, but I see it in front of me, if you can picture that. It’s deep in the foreground of the glass. It’s different than standing in front of a mirror. In the mirror, I see myself, and what’s behind me, but I cannot see what’s in front of me. The mirror is in the way. The window, however, offers a blending of the front and the back, the future and the past. The present even.

It’s a good perspective to have in our lives. If we see what’s ahead of us, and forget what’s behind us, we will probably make the same mistakes we made when passing through the first time around, but they’ll get worse with repetition. And, if we only see the past, but fail to see the future, we will never rise from the ashes of regret. I believe that’s called depression. A place where many people end up being stuck these days.

Our culture conditions us to be enamored of the image we find of ourselves in the mirror. And we cultivate that image incessantly, like a cat grooms his own coat. That’s called narcissism. But Narcissus, from Greek mythology, enamored of his own image in a reflection pool, could not tear himself away from that image. Much like we’ve become today, more concerned with how we appear, than with character, or with what we actually accomplish.

Personally, I prefer looking through a good window.

The Rapture Ideation

Just as I suspected, I was left behind.
And so was everybody else.

As Pastor Harold Camping, founder of Family Radio, had determined, and many more believed, the Rapture, as Christians call it, was supposed to have happened on Saturday, May 21st. That it did not happen comes as a big surprise to no one outside of that particular bubble. It is a bubble that has reached across the globe to encompass many hundreds of thousands of people, but it is a bubble nevertheless.

I am not going to make fun of Pastor Camping, as many have been doing, but I am going to put his feeble, and self-misguided faith into some context.

So, what causes a man to espouse a belief system that puts his own credibility so directly at risk? Well, mental illness comes to mind. But clothe mental illness in religious doctrine and it becomes legitimized in the minds of many, as we have seen over the past few weeks.

Suicidal ideation is a concept that also begs to be examined in the context of such a persons predetermined, and hoped for, exit from this earth. Because Pastor Camping can no longer make his own life work, that is, that he can no longer reconcile his feeble faith with the realities of real life, he prefers, instead, to make a grand exit, one that will solve all of those problems for him. And not only solve them, but ensure that he ends up being right as well. After all, being right is more important to some people than actually being well. The things the mind will do to justify one’s own psychosis.
I also suspect, in the Pastor’s case, that there is a pompous, and self-aggrandizing, need to lead, a need to be right in the eyes of many, rather than in just his own. When one, however, does not actually have any credible thoughts worth following, you can see why that person would appeal so strongly to those whose own faith is equally feeble.

The problem with the kind of suicidal ideation that Pastor Camping entertains is that he does not have the moral courage to actually carry it out himself. Instead, he spiritualizes it, trusting God to remove him from his own inadequacies, from his own failures, and from his own disappointing, probably guilt-ridden, life here on this earth.

Don’t be misled into thinking that I believe suicide is a courageous act. I don’t. I just think it’s more courageous than hoping God will do it for you.
I heard interviews with several May 21st, Rapture doctrine inductees who stood in their back yards waiting, hoping to be taken. I heard them express heartfelt grief, and disappointment, at being left, pained beyond words that they would have to remain here on this earth even a little while longer.
Says more about our world, than it does about their faith.
Don’t you think?

One could argue that the fact that these people believed so strongly in the May 21st Rapture, is evidence of their faith being unusually strong, rather than feeble. Yes, one could argue that perspective.
And one would be wrong about it as well.
I think these people have faith and hope confused with each other.
Faith is not the hope that all your problems will be solved, absolved, dissolved, or mitigated, in the swoop of a divine hand.
That is wishful thinking, at best.

Faith is something you have to find on your own.
And it will not require you to follow someone else’s lead.

By the way, the Pastor is now in seclusion, where I happen to believe he should remain since he was not supposed to be here today anyway.

My thoughts. I’m sure you have your own.

Hey God, Stay Off The Pot

It snowed last night, and again this morning. It’s actually still snowing right now. It’s not supposed to snow here on May 15th. It’s supposed to be spring weather. We’re only at 3,300 feet elevation. It’s not like we’re at 7,000. But, the weather gods are not taking that much into account. They’re going to send snow wherever they feel like they want to see it. And when.

The weather has been wacky all over the United States this year, the world, even. At least that’s how it looks from watching the news. Tornadoes, hurricanes, unexpected ice, and snow storms, floods, wildfires, and various other natural calamitous events, temper tantrums really. Makes me wonder if the weather gods might have finally discovered crack cocaine, or methamphetamine. Which makes me think, ‘What if God was in the habit of ingesting mind altering substances, like so many of us humans are’? Can you imagine God on LSD, on ecstasy, on pot, or Chivas Regal? How in the world would he ever hold things together?

Maybe, because he’s God, he wouldn’t be subject to addiction. Maybe he’d just enjoy those drugs recreationally, a way for him to relax. God must have a major need for relaxation. When you think about it, what would he do to relax? Would he sit on the porch and listen to a baseball game, like I might do sometimes? Or take a walk in the woods, or watch an Airborne Toxic Event concert on TV? Maybe God would hang out at the beach for a day just to enjoy some of the beautiful women he’d made. Or go soul-surfing on a long board.

But, God on drugs could be kind of scary. Can you imagine what a mind as complex as His would be like behind some of the stuff we lose ourselves on?
Drug users are not normally the people you can most count on. Oh, they might be very nice, and they might be some pretty good people, but, everything else being equal, you’ll most always be able to count on a sober person ahead of a stoner. I didn’t design it that way, that’s just the way it turns out. So, imagine if God were getting stoned a lot. My faith in Him would gradually erode, as would my hope that things would be addressed by Him in a timely fashion, and in a reasonable manner. He might spend more time laughing, and less time looking after his responsibilities. It could be kind of cool to know that God was taking things a little less seriously, but in the long run, I want the guy that has my back to be a guy that I can trust will actually have my back.

So God, if you want me to be able to trust you for the weather, or to adequately take care of all of your children, you’re just gonna have to stay off the pot, no matter how much you might need to relax.

Please Don't Say That Anymore

* ‘GOING FORWARD’.
OK, we know you’re going forward, we’ve figured that out.
Everything is ‘going forward’. Except, of course, the past.
And the past is getting farther away.

* ‘IT IS WHAT IT IS’.
What it is to you is not necessarily what it is to me.
Yes, it may be ‘what it is’, but that is not all that it is.
There are usually many layers of what something is.
But, whatever it is, to reduce it to such a simplistic cliché is an insult
to the person with whom you happen to be speaking.
People are capable of determining for themselves ‘what it is’.

* ‘DON’T GO THERE’.
Well, unless there’s a ‘Keep Out’ sign,
I’m probably going to go there.
Unless someone has designated themselves to be a Private Reserve (Preserve),
I won’t bother avoiding the space.
Do you really want to fence other people out, or just fence yourself in?

* ‘AT THE END OF THE DAY’.
Next week is not the ‘end of the day’.
Next month is not the ‘end of the day’.
Next year is not the ‘end of the day’.
When you die is not the ‘end of the day’.
When you finish eating your lunch is not the ‘end of the day’.
THIS EVENING is ‘at the end of the day’.

* ‘NO PROBLEM, or ‘NOT A PROBLEM’.
Usually, only said if there’s a problem.

* ‘HE DIED DOING WHAT HE LOVED’.
Yeah, solo free-climbing Half-Dome in Yosemite, like an idiot.
Never mind that he left his Grandparents without a grandson,
his Parents without a son,
his wife without a husband, or an income,
two Kids without a father,
a Sister without a brother,
and a Niece without an uncle.
Never mind that it didn’t need to happen,
‘he died doing what he loved’.

* ‘YEAH, YEAH, YEAH’.
No, no, no. Don’t try to acknowledge what I’m saying before I’ve said it.
Don’t let your caffeine, and technology, induced impatience
rush me through my thought.
And don’t try to cut me off, pretending you know what I’m going to say.
You don’t know what I’m going to say until I finish saying it.
Now have a cup of decaf, and sit on the porch for a minute.

* ‘WHATEVER’.
The only thing I can say about that is,
‘Whatever’!

* ‘BEEN THERE, DONE THAT’.
Presupposes that my experience was shared by you,
even though it wasn’t.

* ‘BACK IN THE DAY’.
Exactly which day would you be referring to?

* ‘IT’S ALL GOOD’.
That’s just unmitigated bullshit,
most often used by pseudo intellectuals
trying to seduce college girls.
No, it’s not ‘all good’. Almost nothing is ‘all good’.

* ‘THRIVE’.
Gag me, Kaiser Permanente.
Have you all had about enough of that obnoxious woman in the Kaiser ads
talking to you like she’s your own personal enlightenment advisor,
and you’re some kind of idiot male in need of feminizing?
“Follow me,” she seems to suggest, first to the granola bar,
then to the yoga studio, and then to the spiritual spa.
Oh, and don’t forget to pay a visit to the cosmetic surgeon
where you can be made-over to look ‘as good as you feel’.
Summation of the ads: Fix yourself, be your own self-absorbed best friend,
but pay Kaiser for the privilege of inspiring you.
Thrive on this!

* ‘THANK YOU SOOO MUCH’.
Can we just go back to ‘Thank you’?
That seemed to work just fine for, oh, I don’t know,
maybe several thousand years!
Not everything requires a ‘soooo much’, y’know?.

Going forward it is what it is, so don’t go there.
At the end of the day it’s not a problem,
because he died doing what he loved.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, been there, done that, back in the day.
But, it’s all good, so thrive.
And thank you sooo much (with air kiss).


Just havin’ a little serious fun!

Osama bin Laden Is My Brother

This is a repost of my January 3, 2009 entry. I rarely, if ever repost, but in light of the recent killing of Osama bin Laden,
and the celebrations following the announcement of the news, I thought it would be appropriate. I, too, am glad that he
has finally been held to accountability, but it disturbs me when I see Americans celebrating in the streets, chanting
"We're Number One", as if it were some kind of sporting event that we won. As I said, I'm glad to see Bin Laden taken down,
but I do not necessarily take any joy in his death, or in the deaths that will follow.
If you're going to read this repost, I would ask that you read it in its entirety.

Osama bin Laden is my brother.
I know, that’s a very weird thing to say, at least by most standards. But OK, now that I have your attention. . . . . . . .
what I have to say is not about most standards. It’s about a greater standard, a standard beyond what we readily, and commonly, acknowledge to be our responsibility to one another. Bin Laden is merely representative of a dynamic that is fueled by each of us, and that each of us is ultimately affected by. It is the domino theory, that every action is affected by an action preceding it; that every motion sets additional motion in play. It is a law of nature. If I turn on a fan in the room it stirs up the air around me, which unsettles the dust in the room, which aggravates my breathing, which gives me the sniffles, which leads to a cold, which I pass on to someone else from the shake of a hand or the knob of a door, and so on, and so on, and so on. An unremarkable example, and one you could argue the medical/scientific merits of, but I think you get the point. Every action produces a direct effect of that action.

Prior to 9/11 Osama bin Laden (and his friends) failed to take into account the fact that we are his brothers. I will say that again. “Prior to 9/11 Osama bin Laden (and his friends) failed to take into account the fact that we are his brothers.” Long before that we failed, you can be sure, to take into account the same about him. I’m not talking about our government, or our country, I’m talking about us as individuals. 9/11 did not just happen. I believe that disrespect is the most profound shaper of negative ideology in the world today. Disrespect for one another on a minor scale always translates somewhere down the line into disrespect for one another on a major scale. I am certainly not blaming the U.S for the attack on the World Trade Center, it was an horrendous and unconscionable act. I am merely using the event to illuminate a broader personal responsibility that each of us needs to embrace if we are ever going to achieve peace on this planet. We rant and rave about countries provoking one another, waging war with one another, hating one another and why can’t things be different, but on the other hand we continue to use, slight, abuse and disrespect one another, in a myriad of ways and circumstances. “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.” I’ve used the flow of water before to describe the cycle of wealth and poverty, and I use it here again because disrespect, like water, always flows downhill. It gathers in lakes and oceans, evaporates to form storm clouds overhead, then rains on us when the clouds can hold no more. It is a self-perpetuating cycle. Someone once said ‘the definition of insanity is doing the same thing, the same way, over and over, and expecting a different result.’

I believe that if we want to call Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., or Gandhi, or Jesus our brother, or the guy sitting next to us in church, we are also obligated to consider Osama bin Laden our brother, or the guy preaching hate on Air America, in the mosque, or with a bullhorn on a university campus. For all the perpetual George Bush haters out there who now want to embrace Barack Obama as their brother, they need to consider the Bush’s of the world in like manner. Can they do that? If not, their own disingenuousness will continue to subvert the very principals they supposedly stand for, and perpetuate, you can be sure, the horrendous divisiveness they create by their own behavior. Those on the ideologically opposite side of things need to do the same. I am not saying we need to agree with, or excuse behavior, but I am saying that love is the greatest moderator of behavior. Forgiveness is the greatest liberator from that behavior.
We are only as spiritually authentic as the measure of our love. Our love is measured in reverse proportion to our capacity for hate, and indifference falls squarely on the side of the negative.

We do not have the luxury to pick and choose who is a member of the human family, and who is not; who we would like to sit next to at the banquet, or stand behind in the food line. Unkindness comes dressed in superlatives far more often than it ever comes dressed in rags, but it comes, dressed in every pair of pants imaginable. If our exclusion of some, and inclusion of others, in our love is based on faith, ideology, political party, country, color, or social grouping, then we really amount to little more than a college fraternity rather than the supposedly enlightened and ever-evolving citizens of the world that we have all become so fond of claiming to be. Lets face it, the earth is a big house, but with more rooms than just the few that you and I happen to occupy. It holds an ever-increasing population of related individuals? If it is true that we are all Gods creatures (and I believe we are) then we must account for that reality, and not merely continue to pay lip service to it. For every major offense, or indiscretion, committed by someone, somewhere, in the world, a minor offense, or indiscretion, can be traced directly back to me. I am me, that is very clear; but you are me as well. Think about it.

Hate, disrespect, dishonor, and neglect spread like a virus to our faceless, unknown, and unimagined brothers and sisters right on down to the end of the line.

We have been commissioned to love our neighbor as our self.
If you say, ‘yeah, but my god doesn’t teach that’, then brother,
you just need to get yourself a better God.

Osama bin Laden is my brother.

Mental Chronicles, 6

- Well, the Royal Wedding ‘Official Guest List’ is out, and I’m not on it. If anything would infuriate a guy, it’d be that. I can hardly believe the snub. What were they thinking?

OK, now, this column is a little political from here on, so you might want to skip it, rather than ruin the rest of your day.
I'll get back to writing about rivers and streams again, tomorrow.

- I’m getting a little tired of this whole ‘Obama Birth Certificate’ thing. Was he born in the U.S., or wasn’t he? Who cares, the fact is, he’s a fraud, no matter where he was born.
And, come to think of it, shouldn’t we be equally concerned that Donald Trump WAS born in the United States?

- Solution to Illegal Immigration. Oh, sorry, I mean ‘Undocumented Workers’. They say that if we deport the illegal immigrants we’ll have no one to pick our fruit and vegetables. “Americans,” they say, “just won’t do it.”

Well, I know some Americans we could put to work. Evict the Politicians from Congress, fire the Corporate Attorneys (thugs), Banking, and Wall Street thieves, and make them pick our fruit and vegetables in the fields. Then the Illegal Immigrants could take the jobs in Congress, and in the Corporations. It would all but ensure that there would be honest Politicians, and Businessmen. Not because the illegals are necessarily honest people (some are, some are not), but because, after getting used to the cushy life, the life of wealth, and privilege of a Politician, or a Corporate Fat Cat, they would not want to be fired, and have to go back to picking our fruit and vegetables in the fields.

- Personally, I don’t give a rat’s behind about Barry Bonds. I kind of wish he’d just go away. But his recent trial for Obstruction of Justice/Lying to a Grand Jury (steroids), leaves me confused.
Being brought to trial for lying to the Government? Why is it OK for the Government to lie to the people, continually, and without repercussion of any kind, but it’s never OK for the people to lie to the Government?
Can somebody shed some light on that for me? I think we ought to start treating them the same way they’ve been treating us.
Oh, wait, now that I think about it, who would even want to screw a politician?
Besides Rielle Hunter (John Edwards), that is.

- This is not a new train of thought, but sometimes we need to be reminded.
In our world, ‘Justice’ has been trivialized to the point where there are two forms of Justice. There is justice for the wealthy, and there is justice for the poor. ‘Justice for the Wealthy’ means that they are not subject to the same rules as the poor. And ‘Justice for the Poor’ means that they are not entitled to the same considerations as the wealthy.
Until we insist on ‘Poor Mans Justice’ for the privileged, they will continue to make the rules to suit themselves.

Now, heres’ an idea to chew on.
Saddam Hussein finally got Poor Mans Justice from the Iraqi people.
Do you think things might change if our Politicians, and Corporate crooks, had the same eventuality to look forward to?

- Laws in the following states prohibit an individual from catching rainwater for one’s own personal use. Colorado, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, and (of course) D.C.
You can’t catch rainwater in a barrel to drink, or even in a coffee can to water your plants. They consider it, or any such similar act to be ‘theft of water’, an infringement on the ‘water-rights’ of those companies that have contracted with the government to sell the water back to the people.
So, they even own the rain now.
Big surprise.
I wonder if you were lost in the desert, dying of thirst, if it’d be OK just to catch a raindrop or two on your tongue.
Or would they want to arrest you for that?

- I know, the ‘Mental Chronicles’ might lead some of you to believe that I have too much time on my hands. But I just want to say, “If you’re reading the ‘Mental Chronicles’, maybe it’s you who have too much time on your hands.”
(I hope we’re still friends).

One Need Not Believe In Jesus

So, you’re probably expecting me to write about the Easter bunny, right? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but my comments are actually about suffering, death, and burial.

Many of you consider me to be a religious man, but, actually, nothing could be farther from the truth. I am a practical man, not by any religious measure, to be sure, but by almost any reasonable measure. Note, I said ‘reasonable’ measure. If your particular religion, or ideology, does not recognize my perspective as ‘reasonable’, that doesn’t necessarily make you right, but it doesn’t necessarily make me wrong either. Still, I must say, “I have confidence in my point of view.”

Some of you consider me to be irreverent because I do not necessarily subscribe to the tenants of a particular religion. But really, one can only offend the pseudo sacrosanct. That which is truly Holy is never offended by perspective. Holy is, in fact, able to absorb all that is unholy, or profane, with an assimilation that is seamless, and without reproach. So I ask you, is your belief system able to accommodate that?

Christian, or not, most of you know the story of Christ’s dilemma in the Garden, where he agonized over the prospect of a brutal future, facing systematic torture and eventual execution. Add to that the concept of Him carrying on his back the sin and iniquity of all mankind, and you can imagine his profound consternation. Consternation is much too moderate of a word, however. ‘Agony’ would be much more appropriate.

Speaking of Jesus’ torment in the Garden, the Bible says in Matthew 26:39, “He went on a little farther and bowed with his face to the ground, praying, “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet, I want your will to be done, not mine.”

Now I don’t really care if you believe this account, or anything else the Bible has to say. That’s your business, and it’s really none of my business. And I don’t care if you’re of the Christian faith, the Muslim faith, the Hindu Faith, the Green Party faith, the FaceBook faith, any other faith, or no faith at all. The recounting of the life, and teachings, of Christ are worthy of examination. It’s interesting, however, that many people are afraid of Him. Many people will examine the teachings, and accounts, of almost anybody else on earth, except Christ. How many volume’s does that speak about a person?

Anyway, according to the Biblical accounting of Christ’s predicament in the Garden, He did not take an easy way out of his prescribed destiny. He offered God the option of changing His mind, but, as happens, God remained silent. Jesus did not opt out, cop out, finagle, or dance the fandango. He did not bargain, cry, whine, lie, run, or disappear. He had a choice, but he stayed to face the difficulty, and the certainty of death. He faced the problem head on. He stepped into the eventuality of further suffering, execution, and burial.

And so it is with us. If we want to get to the resurrection in our own lives, we’ve got to go through the preliminary stages first. We cannot opt out, cop out, finagle, or dance the fandango. We cannot bargain, cry, whine, lie, run, or disappear. I don’t care what it is, if a situation is in need of redemption, the suffering is already being played out. We may not call it that, but that is exactly what it is.

In any event, it all adds up to a separation from God. God does not separate Himself from us, but we do separate ourselves from Him. No matter what the situation, in order for change to manifest itself in one’s life, one must be willing to go through the suffering of separation from the old life, to die to it, and then to bury it like a bad disease. We must face the future with courage, with determination, and with the expectation of redemption.

One need not believe in Jesus to find this kind of change.
One only need believe that redemption is possible.
You see, according to the Gospel story, Christ’s death, and resurrection, were intended to enable the same in ourselves.

Regardless of what we might think about it.

I Used To Be Sensitive

I need to apologize for neglecting those of you who look to this space each day for your trusted connection with the Obvious. As I’ve stated, and as you know, I’m been working very hard trying to complete my Novel, ‘Wilderness’. I’m making good progress, and am enjoying the process, but I understand that my recent neglect of ‘Coyote Tracks’ has been leaving each of you bereft of your best reason to go on living. I kid. Did I really need to say that? Well, you never know, people can be pretty sensitive these days. And that brings me to the point of this discussion.

I grew up being very sensitive. I was sensitive to other people’s feelings, and I was sensitive about my own. Shoot, (can I even say that?). OK, ‘Shoot’, I was sensitive to religion, to ideology, and to politics. I was sensitive to race, to sexuality, and to cultural differences. In short, I was sensitive to all of the things a person is supposed to be sensitive about. I was sensitive to insensitivity, even.

But y’know, it doesn’t stop there. It was never going to stop at the obvious. Now you’re expected to be sensitive to peoples psyche’s, even though a person’s psyche is invisible. It is obscure. It is unknowable. It is elusive, vague, indefinable, indescribable, and, anyway, it changes with the weather. The psyche is born of a person’s entire life experience. A person lives in different elements of the psyche at different times of their life, different days, even. It is the weakness in a person, at times, and it is the strength at other times. But we are required to protect it, always, in everyone, as if it were a three-month-premature infant in a Maternity ward. No wonder people are so weak.

There is nothing left that we are not required to be sensitive about. Besides the obvious, we are now, also, tasked to intuit what a persons psyche is, and then we are required to tip-toe, and tap-dance around it. We are required to assuage it, and to feed it pabulum for fear it could not digest solid food. It is a large part of what is weakening the lives, and resolve, of the American people.

It is not our commission in life to protect each other’s psyche’s. It is our commission in life to be honest about life. Honesty will mold the psyche naturally, to be well balanced, and of service to the person it is connected to. You don’t prepare a person for life by protecting him from the weather, from the truth, or from himself.

People will think whatever they want, about anything they want. And nobody can take that from us. But, when people begin insisting on what we are supposed to think, how we are supposed to think, and what we are supposed to be sensitive about, well, I begin to become very insensitive about that. C’mon, people. We can’t live that way. People will be as fragile as we require them to be. They will shrink to that level of expectation.

People are allowed to feel today, they are just not allowed to think . . . . . out loud, that is, or for themselves. Thinking for one’s self is the prelude to rebellion. Why are we so afraid of that? Thinking out loud is what gets us in trouble. Somehow, feelings are acceptable, even though they are the primary, and operative, domain of adolescents. Feelings are encouraged. Thinking is not.
And again, I say, “C’mon, people, we can’t live that way.

If somebody says something that you don’t agree with, it’s just somebody’s opinion!” Don’t be so frigging offended by somebody’s opinion. So what if somebody thinks make-up is dishonest (as I heard in a movie recently), and you wear make-up. That doesn’t mean the person thinks you’re a no good, dishonest, shallow bitch. It doesn’t mean the person is trying to hurt you. Stop looking to be hurt by everybody. It just means that the person thinks the idea of using make-up is dishonest. So what? He’s allowed to think that. You think differently. Does that make him a no-good, shallow, idiotic bastard? Does that mean that you must separate yourself from that person so you can feel morally superior to him. Let’s everybody get a grip. Everybody, really.

The things that people say are created by the lives and experiences those people have. Everybody has a different life, and experience. Everybody has a different way of looking at, and interpreting, the world. Why are we so afraid of, or threatened by, that?

Let’s stop pretending that someone else’s experience should bring them to the same conclusions in life that ours have brought us to.

Wilderness Update

For those of you who have been following the development of
'Wilderness' on this webpage,
I'm sorry to say that I decided to remove it from the site
until completed.

The Novel has taken shape in a way that now
begs to be read in its entirety.
Posting new individual entries would diminish the impact,
and enjoyment of the Work.

I did not anticipate this happening,
but have realized that it is now
in the best interest of the story.

I expect to have the book completed
within about two months. Maybe one.
Please check back here for the final manuscript.

You will not be disappointed.