If your enemies have a huge gun aimed at your head,
the one thing you absolutely must not ever do
is hand them the bullets.
Your enemy will always be defined as the one person who firmly believes
that the Universe would be a far better place without you in it. Therefore,
your enemy will always be seeking the most effective ways
to wipe both you and everything pertaining to you out of existence,
plain and simple. That is why giving your enemy a loaded gun
would be just as fatal to you as committing suicide with that gun.
There are numerous methods of committing suicide
without actually committing suicide.
You commit suicide when you knowingly and willingly
live the wrong lifestyle or marry the wrong person,
and it eventually kills you. Some suicides can occur in a split second,
while others take decades. Sometimes,
death hits and kills a person all at once, while other times,
death slowly and meticulously unravels a person over countless years.
So then who is the real enemy?
Is it the one who tries to put you to death without any real cause?
Or is it death himself, the very one who
has made a mockery of all love and dignity and virtue and righteousness and
truth and tradition and romance and commitment and sentimentality and
piety and hope by dragging them all to the grave and
mercilessly reducing them all to maggots and worms and ashes and dirt and
bones and hopeless emptiness? Why do people commit suicide?
Is it because they can only see life as nothing more than
the long road that always leads to death,
with suicide simply being a convenient shortcut?
Are we handing death the bullets
because we've forgotten how to dream those precious dreams of
faith, hope, unconditional love, and immortality?
Just because a people haven't had a victory for tens of thousands of years
does not mean that victory is impossible.
And just because a people have never triumphed at all,
it does not mean that triumph is unattainable.
Nevertheless, someone needs to defeat death today,
right here and now, by successfully reversing his icy grip and
completely restoring those who have wrongfully and prematurely died.
And someone needs to demonstrate that there is an afterlife
and another Universe after our loved ones die. Otherwise,
why try to stop your loved ones from committing suicide
when life is nothing more than the long road to death,
and suicide is simply the shortcut?
Why not simply give your enemy the bullets,
and just get it over with?
Sometimes, suicide veils herself
and takes the long road.
Copyright © 2016, All Rights Reserved
Saturday, September 2, 2017
Slingshot
Trying to solve these modern-day problems
using "that old-time religion"
makes about as much sense
as putting new wine into old wineskins,
or attacking an ironclad battleship with wooden bows and arrows.
I don't care what god you serve:
do you really think David's simple slingshot would stand a chance
against a Goliath who has an AK-47 in his right hand, an RPG in his left,
and bulletproof body-armor from head to toe? I don't think so!
In this modern-day technologically advanced society,
we are experiencing moral and ethical challenges
that our forefathers and foremothers couldn't have even imagined,
and the Biblical misconceptions the church could get away with long ago
are completely ripping Christians to shreds today,
while the world looks on and increasingly mocks both Jesus and His followers
with each passing day. Stop trying to get away with Dispensationalism,
since that moth-eaten theology clearly supports a fickle, inconsistent,
changing GOD,
while the Bible itself says, "I am the LORD, I change not,"
and "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever."
Stop trying to say that the entire Bible is the WORD of GOD
when even Jesus Himself had to edit the very Scriptures
during His Sermon on the Mount,
teaching people to love their enemies instead of hating them,
and altogether negating the "eye for an eye" and "swearing an oath" parts.
Stop using the Book of Genesis as the undisputed origin of humanity
when even Jesus Himself never mentioned Adam by name,
always referring to Himself as "the Son of man," never "the Son of Adam."
Stop teaching people that Satan rules over Hell and lives in Hell
when Satan isn't even in Hell, but is instead the prince of the powers of the air.
Stop saying that Satan resembles that sabbatical goat called Baphomet
when the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel called him Lucifer,
the archangel of musical glory and sublime beauty,
who was ejected from Heaven for willfully dreaming about
being like the MOST HIGH, dreaming about being made in the Image of GOD,
in other words, COVETING WHAT THE AVERAGE MAN AND WOMAN
ALREADY ARE. They know not, neither will they understand,
and they senselessly march onward like Christian soldiers in their own darkness,
which is why all of the earth's foundations are horrendously out of course.
We desperately need to assume our rightful place as gods,
as Sons and Daughters of the MOST HIGH,
before we all die like mortal men
and fall like one of the blind princes.
We desperately need to do away with David's old worn-out slingshot
and get with the times
before it's too late.
---
Every cause has a unique effect,
and every effect has a unique cause.
Nothing happens by random chance.
Copyright © 2016, All Rights Reserved
using "that old-time religion"
makes about as much sense
as putting new wine into old wineskins,
or attacking an ironclad battleship with wooden bows and arrows.
I don't care what god you serve:
do you really think David's simple slingshot would stand a chance
against a Goliath who has an AK-47 in his right hand, an RPG in his left,
and bulletproof body-armor from head to toe? I don't think so!
In this modern-day technologically advanced society,
we are experiencing moral and ethical challenges
that our forefathers and foremothers couldn't have even imagined,
and the Biblical misconceptions the church could get away with long ago
are completely ripping Christians to shreds today,
while the world looks on and increasingly mocks both Jesus and His followers
with each passing day. Stop trying to get away with Dispensationalism,
since that moth-eaten theology clearly supports a fickle, inconsistent,
changing GOD,
while the Bible itself says, "I am the LORD, I change not,"
and "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever."
Stop trying to say that the entire Bible is the WORD of GOD
when even Jesus Himself had to edit the very Scriptures
during His Sermon on the Mount,
teaching people to love their enemies instead of hating them,
and altogether negating the "eye for an eye" and "swearing an oath" parts.
Stop using the Book of Genesis as the undisputed origin of humanity
when even Jesus Himself never mentioned Adam by name,
always referring to Himself as "the Son of man," never "the Son of Adam."
Stop teaching people that Satan rules over Hell and lives in Hell
when Satan isn't even in Hell, but is instead the prince of the powers of the air.
Stop saying that Satan resembles that sabbatical goat called Baphomet
when the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel called him Lucifer,
the archangel of musical glory and sublime beauty,
who was ejected from Heaven for willfully dreaming about
being like the MOST HIGH, dreaming about being made in the Image of GOD,
in other words, COVETING WHAT THE AVERAGE MAN AND WOMAN
ALREADY ARE. They know not, neither will they understand,
and they senselessly march onward like Christian soldiers in their own darkness,
which is why all of the earth's foundations are horrendously out of course.
We desperately need to assume our rightful place as gods,
as Sons and Daughters of the MOST HIGH,
before we all die like mortal men
and fall like one of the blind princes.
We desperately need to do away with David's old worn-out slingshot
and get with the times
before it's too late.
---
Every cause has a unique effect,
and every effect has a unique cause.
Nothing happens by random chance.
Copyright © 2016, All Rights Reserved
The Energy of Pain
What would happen to me
if I focused every last ounce of my pain, my sorrow,
my grief, my mourning, my loss, my loneliness, and my torment
onto one place, one shape, one pattern most desired?
Would I finally see miraculous magic in my life?
Or would I go irreversibly mad, or suffer a nervous breakdown,
or witness the catastrophic collapse of my physical health?
I once heard that the most intense supernatural power
comes from the most intense personal emotion. And oftentimes,
that emotion is pain. I also heard that the entire Universe
consists of only two things, energy and pattern,
and that one cannot exist without the other.
How can I even begin to channel the overwhelming grief
I have just suffered when I prematurely lost both of my parents and a dear friend
over the past two years, grief that could produce more energy
than a trillion Hiroshima-type A-bombs?
Do I even dare try to channel it,
at the risk of being driven irretrievably insane?
Sometimes,
the pain is so great,
I just want to sit there,
in my bedroom, in the silence,
and simply shut down.
Sometimes,
I am just too tired
to shed yet another lonely tear.
Sometimes,
I wonder how I could have lived for more than half a century
without having created any kind of enduring legacy,
as if I've been living a wretched lie all along,
betraying my true self with every last step I took.
I sit there and wonder, where did I go wrong?
I keep asking myself, how many wrong turns did I make?
My patriotism died in 2013, when I learned the awful truths about America.
Then my mother dies in 2014, then my father dies in 2015,
and then one of my dear friends, who used to be my girlfriend,
dies in 2016, this year, as if the pain wasn't through with me yet.
And Los Angeles gets more and more overcrowded by self-absorbed outsiders
who just moved here yesterday, and the traffic congestion keeps getting worse,
and the cost of living keeps rising while the quality of life keeps falling,
and the pollution keeps worsening,
and the competition keeps getting more vicious,
and the water supply keeps dwindling,
and the number of power failures keeps increasing,
and the overall insanity of overpopulation keeps drowning out all sense of
dignity, kindness, peace. I cannot recall the last time
I had a good night's sleep.
And I keep lingering on the idea
of cultivating my power
from a pain deep enough to detonate supernovae and cause whole galaxies
to spin. If I just simply embraced this immense, nightmarish colossus,
and allowed my tears to flow without reason and without end,
would I finally have peace after all?
Or would I finally lose my natural mind
after all?
Copyright © 2016, All Rights Reserved
if I focused every last ounce of my pain, my sorrow,
my grief, my mourning, my loss, my loneliness, and my torment
onto one place, one shape, one pattern most desired?
Would I finally see miraculous magic in my life?
Or would I go irreversibly mad, or suffer a nervous breakdown,
or witness the catastrophic collapse of my physical health?
I once heard that the most intense supernatural power
comes from the most intense personal emotion. And oftentimes,
that emotion is pain. I also heard that the entire Universe
consists of only two things, energy and pattern,
and that one cannot exist without the other.
How can I even begin to channel the overwhelming grief
I have just suffered when I prematurely lost both of my parents and a dear friend
over the past two years, grief that could produce more energy
than a trillion Hiroshima-type A-bombs?
Do I even dare try to channel it,
at the risk of being driven irretrievably insane?
Sometimes,
the pain is so great,
I just want to sit there,
in my bedroom, in the silence,
and simply shut down.
Sometimes,
I am just too tired
to shed yet another lonely tear.
Sometimes,
I wonder how I could have lived for more than half a century
without having created any kind of enduring legacy,
as if I've been living a wretched lie all along,
betraying my true self with every last step I took.
I sit there and wonder, where did I go wrong?
I keep asking myself, how many wrong turns did I make?
My patriotism died in 2013, when I learned the awful truths about America.
Then my mother dies in 2014, then my father dies in 2015,
and then one of my dear friends, who used to be my girlfriend,
dies in 2016, this year, as if the pain wasn't through with me yet.
And Los Angeles gets more and more overcrowded by self-absorbed outsiders
who just moved here yesterday, and the traffic congestion keeps getting worse,
and the cost of living keeps rising while the quality of life keeps falling,
and the pollution keeps worsening,
and the competition keeps getting more vicious,
and the water supply keeps dwindling,
and the number of power failures keeps increasing,
and the overall insanity of overpopulation keeps drowning out all sense of
dignity, kindness, peace. I cannot recall the last time
I had a good night's sleep.
And I keep lingering on the idea
of cultivating my power
from a pain deep enough to detonate supernovae and cause whole galaxies
to spin. If I just simply embraced this immense, nightmarish colossus,
and allowed my tears to flow without reason and without end,
would I finally have peace after all?
Or would I finally lose my natural mind
after all?
Copyright © 2016, All Rights Reserved
Friday, September 1, 2017
The Road to Hell
Good intentions cannot undo an evil truth.
America was meant to be a nation of liberty and justice for all,
but her very foundation consists of European invaders,
violently and unjustly taking the land from the Native Americans
who were already there, and then kidnapping and enslaving countless Africans
to build upon and maintain the land that was stolen from the Native Americans.
So then how can a nation champion liberty and justice
while standing on a foundation of slavery and injustice?
Good intentions cannot undo an evil truth.
Any nation that legislates free speech, free press, free religion, and free protest
will inevitably suffer the corruption inherent in all human nature,
in that every individual who is free to soar to the noblest heights
will always be violently resisted
by every individual who is also free to sink to the most deplorable depths;
and as it is with individuals, so it is with whole communities, whole cities,
and whole states: every nation divided against itself is brought to ruin,
and every family divided against itself cannot stand.
So as long as the freely inclusive are violently resisted by the freely racist,
and the forward progressives are violently resisted by the backward traditionalists,
and the globalists are violently resisted by the isolationists,
and the environmentalists are violently resisted by the industrialists,
and the freely generous are violently resisted by the staunchly selfish,
and the increasingly liberal are violently resisted by the increasingly conservative,
America is inevitably doomed. Indeed, the very democracy,
meant to prevent a totalitarian government from grinding freedom to powder,
will still wind up being violently ground to powder under the burdensome weight
of its own merciless division, an internal conflict fuelled by human nature itself.
Good intentions cannot undo an evil truth.
It is no mystery that good intentions have always been
the finest gold bricks ever used to create the road to Hell.
And every last government founded by humanity
paves the same path with that many more gold bricks
while marching on towards the same age-old oblivion.
Countless ruins tell the same sad tale. And all truths,
both good and evil,
remain ever steadfast in their silent proclamation,
regardless of the countless generations of propaganda ministers
consistently bent on gas-lighting the lies of the day into the hearts and minds
of the current masses. In the end, their angry threats are always
meaningless
on the road to Hell, the final path every nation must travel,
an infernal highway most spectacularly paved
with the best of intentions.
--
It is never enough.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
America was meant to be a nation of liberty and justice for all,
but her very foundation consists of European invaders,
violently and unjustly taking the land from the Native Americans
who were already there, and then kidnapping and enslaving countless Africans
to build upon and maintain the land that was stolen from the Native Americans.
So then how can a nation champion liberty and justice
while standing on a foundation of slavery and injustice?
Good intentions cannot undo an evil truth.
Any nation that legislates free speech, free press, free religion, and free protest
will inevitably suffer the corruption inherent in all human nature,
in that every individual who is free to soar to the noblest heights
will always be violently resisted
by every individual who is also free to sink to the most deplorable depths;
and as it is with individuals, so it is with whole communities, whole cities,
and whole states: every nation divided against itself is brought to ruin,
and every family divided against itself cannot stand.
So as long as the freely inclusive are violently resisted by the freely racist,
and the forward progressives are violently resisted by the backward traditionalists,
and the globalists are violently resisted by the isolationists,
and the environmentalists are violently resisted by the industrialists,
and the freely generous are violently resisted by the staunchly selfish,
and the increasingly liberal are violently resisted by the increasingly conservative,
America is inevitably doomed. Indeed, the very democracy,
meant to prevent a totalitarian government from grinding freedom to powder,
will still wind up being violently ground to powder under the burdensome weight
of its own merciless division, an internal conflict fuelled by human nature itself.
Good intentions cannot undo an evil truth.
It is no mystery that good intentions have always been
the finest gold bricks ever used to create the road to Hell.
And every last government founded by humanity
paves the same path with that many more gold bricks
while marching on towards the same age-old oblivion.
Countless ruins tell the same sad tale. And all truths,
both good and evil,
remain ever steadfast in their silent proclamation,
regardless of the countless generations of propaganda ministers
consistently bent on gas-lighting the lies of the day into the hearts and minds
of the current masses. In the end, their angry threats are always
meaningless
on the road to Hell, the final path every nation must travel,
an infernal highway most spectacularly paved
with the best of intentions.
--
It is never enough.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Hobbies versus Careers, 1983 to 2017
There is an extreme difference between a career and a hobby. While you may love doing a hobby, you were born to do a career. If you were born with an innate gift for medicine and healing, then your career is in the medical profession. If you are innately good at leadership and law, then you were meant to have a political career. If you are innately gifted with understanding the Bible, prayer, and the Christian church, then your career is that of a theologian. If you were born with a talent for singing, then you have a career as a vocalist. The list of careers is practically endless, but what defines your career is your innate gift or set of gifts. On the other hand, if you love medicine and healing, or leadership and law, or singing, or any other activity that you were not innately gifted to perform, then those activities are hobbies, not careers, plain and simple. A career is what you were born to fulfill, while a hobby is what you enjoy doing without ever having had any innate gift for it.
That being said, I am currently facing a dilemma that has been thirty-four years in the making, primarily because I spent thirty-four years violating the principle I just illustrated in the previous paragraph of this writing. When I graduated from High School in the Spring of 1983, it was no mystery that I was born to be an artist, being innately gifted in creative writing, dramatic theater, graphic arts, and music, with the strongest of these gifts being singing. I had inherited the gift of singing from my father, who had inherited the same gift from his father. But instead of choosing a career that reflected my innate gifts, I adamantly insisted that I belonged in the field of computers, which was still largely in its infancy back in 1983, in that there were no handheld smartphones and no public Internet yet. When I started college in 1983, I went into Electrical Engineering at the University of Southern California. Never mind the fact that USC also had (and still has) an outstanding School of Music, where I could have easily studied Classical and Jazz Vocals. I insisted on studying how to design computer circuits, something that would have been one of my more interesting hobbies, but something I was never gifted at doing. That first year was a disaster, and in the Spring of 1984, I was unable to maintain the scholarships that covered USC's outrageously expensive tuition fees, and was thus forced to transfer to a less expensive college. I chose the California State University in Northridge, not because I actually knew what I was doing, but because one of my High School friends started there. Still thinking that I'd be rich in the computer field, I majored in something computer-related. But because I had absolute disdain for CSUN's engineering program, I chose Computer Science, which dealt with the development of software, programming languages, and operating systems. While I was introduced to computer programming at twelve years of age, it was still a hobby, and not an innate gift. As such, I spent another eight-and-a-half years working on what should have been a four-year degree, and when I finally graduated in the Fall of 1992, I had a C+ grade-point average. And all that time in college, I kept trying to indulge in the artistic gifts I was innately born to pursue. I had it all wrong: I was pursuing a hobby as though it should have been a career, while treating what should have been my real career as though it were nothing more than a mere hobby, and I was suffering because of this.
When I finally graduated in the Fall of 1992, I was desperate for a job. Unlike my fellow Computer Science students at CSUN, who lined up their job opportunities and employer interviews BEFORE they graduated, I was too busy struggling with one Computer Science class after another, having to retake the classes I kept failing. So when I left college, I could only find jobs that were actually beneath my Bachelor's Degree, and this went on for almost a year. By the Fall of 1993, I was hired as a contractor for the Federal Aviation Administration's NISC Team. ("NISC" stood for "NAS Implementation Support Contract," and "NAS" stood for "National Airspace Systems.") I worked as a CAD Draftsman. Although the contract was supposed to last for seven years, the time-allotment was cut in half for a good number of us, and I was laid off in the Spring of 1997. While I was there, one of the innate gifts in my artistic suite, poetry, began to blossom as spoken-word poetry in 1996, so when I was laid off in 1997, I spent all of that year and a good part of 1998 writing and performing spoken-word poetry. Even though I was a "starving artist" doing the best I could on Unemployment, I never felt more alive and invigorated than when I was on-stage reciting the deep, strong, gentle, passionate, social, political, intelligent, sexual, spiritual things I wrote. I was being myself. Nevertheless, the real challenge came when my Unemployment funds ran out in 1998, and my income dropped to zero. Instead of coming to my senses and acknowledging that I was born to be an artist, and not to be an Information Technology professional, I shoved my artistic life back into the hobby-closet and sought another IT job, this time as a Systems Analyst with the City of Los Angeles, beginning at the Public Works' Bureau of Accounting in the Fall of 1998. The job was still a struggle, not just to maintain my knowledge of computers, but also to relate with groups of people I was never supposed to meet in the first place. My artistic temperament, emotional as it was, eventually got me into trouble with those co-workers, primarily because such temperament simply didn't belong in that kind of work environment. I suffered disciplinary action during the Summer of 2001, where I was also shut out of the office and placed on leave for three months. While I was on leave, I indulged in even more artistic endeavors, including music composition on a MIDI keyboard, sketching and computer graphics, and (of course) spoken-word poetry. When I was allowed to return to work, my co-workers and supervisors treated me with even more contempt than ever before, and they let me know in no uncertain terms that I was despised beyond measure. Except for the handful of people that actually befriended me, the rest were on a mission to erase me completely. My supervisors then forced me to do heavy work without back support, and in the Spring of 2002, I injured my lower back on the job. While I was on Disability, I hired an attorney to defend me. And I was very glad I hired that attorney, because in the Fall of 2006, when I returned to the same job with the work-restrictions imposed by my attorney, the same supervisors violated those restrictions, forced me to do similar difficult work, and re-injured my lower back in the early Spring of 2007, placing me back on Disability. I was on Disability for a total of seven years, and I was being paid as much as I would have been paid while on the job. And while I was on Disability for those seven years, I had the unbridled freedom to pursue my artistic talents once again. I composed several albums on that MIDI keyboard, thoroughly indulged myself in sketching and computer graphics, and wrote numerous new poems to recite as spoken word. But even then, in all that time, I still didn't pursue any of my artistic talents as an actual career, and the talent I gave the least attention to was singing. Instead, fuelled by my misinterpretations of a book I was reading called "Rich Dad Poor Dad," written by Robert Kiyosaki, I took on Vocational Rehabilitation to learn how to be a business entrepreneur, yet another field I was simply not gifted with. When I started this training in 2008, it was around the time a major economic deficit hit the entire nation, forcing many small businesses to permanently close their doors. While I was writing my business plan as my final examination for the online course I was taking, I reacted to the deficit, I froze, I lost my determination, I kept drawing blanks, I flunked out of the entire Vocational Rehabilitation program, and I went back to work for the City of Los Angeles in the Fall of 2009, but in an entirely different department than where I started in 1998. I regained my Systems Analyst job at the City's Information Technology Agency, where I started on the Citywide Helpdesk and then planned on moving up later on. But my plans at ITA were cut short when the same wave of economic hardship that hit the private sector in 2008 finally struck the government sector in the Fall of 2010. ITA was horrendously downsized, I was laid off, and per City Policy, I was transferred back to the same group of people I started with back in 1998, Public Works. The only difference was the Bureau in Public Works. In 1998, I started with the Bureau of Accounting. This time, in 2010, it was the Bureau of Sanitation. And from there, I was transferred to Hyperion Wastewater Treatment Plant, where I have been working to this day.
My IT career has all but dead-ended here at Hyperion. In addition to being surrounded by wastewater chemists, who were experts in a field that was even more alien to me than that of computers, I was still at best mediocre when it came to IT. And because the daily commute to and from Hyperion has gradually worsened as traffic congestion continues to mercilessly and exponentially increase, I spend far more time and energy dealing with the road than I ever do dealing with my job responsibilities or my increasingly obscured artistic talents, which (talents) were once again shoved back into the hobby-closet. Ever since 1983, I labored under the horrific misapprehension that making a ton of money and getting rich were the be-all and the end-all. That materialistic greed-centered thinking spurred me on to going after the wrong college degree, the wrong career, and the wrong Vocational Rehabilitation training. I should have realized early on that my value as a human being has absolutely nothing to do with being rich, and that my innate talents have absolutely nothing to do with insane quests for wealth. I should have sought after a career that reflected my natural-born gifts, not because it was the most financially profitable thing to do, but because it was the RIGHT thing to do. Nevertheless, these truths really didn't begin to sink into my inner paradigm until my mother suddenly died on May 27, 2014, and then my father died on February 1, 2015. The death of both parents, immediately followed by the death of my good friend and church elder Robert Holeman on January 30, 2016, and then the death of my dear friend and ex-girlfriend Jewel Allen on June 16, 2016, forced me to seriously rethink everything about my life, and I mean EVERYTHING. (Before my father died, he made me promise that I would use my singing voice in a professional manner, and I will honor that promise, even if it's the last thing I ever do.) I have learned the hard way, costing me thirty-four years of my natural life, that only a fool chases after wealth and riches. You are NEVER supposed to chase after wealth and riches: when you live the life you were born to live, and fulfill the talents you were born to fulfill, wealth and riches will chase after you. In fact, the more you chase after wealth and riches, the POORER you will become, first in your very soul, and then in your material possessions (or lack thereof). I am not saying that one shouldn't learn how to be wise with his or her money, nor am I saying that one shouldn't be financially literate. What I am saying is that one should not ever pursue money as though it were the most important thing in life, and that one should not ever worship money like a god.
Ultimately, I have learned that the talents I was born with, and neither the talents that looked awesome to me nor the talents I thought would make me rich, should have been the talents that shaped my career. All of the awesome-looking talents and the so-called wealth-building talents, none of which came naturally to me, were only meant to be nothing more than hobbies. Now, as I move forward, I have the enormous responsibility of uprooting the thirty-four years of my adult life built upon a computer hobby that should not have ever been my career, and then replacing that corrupt foundation with one consisting of my natural-born vocal, musical, artistic, poetic, literary, and dramatic talents as my permanent career. I seriously need to achieve this before I get too old to find my wife and have children of my own. And I absolutely cannot afford to be set in my ways, since nearly all of them are based on a thirty-four-year-old error.
(I have also come to realize that my foundational dilemma may have far more profoundly esoteric consequences than I had originally imagined, especially with regards to current events in American politics. In my recent studies of the Seven Hermetic Principles, I learned that the Hermetic Principle of Correspondence not only applies to "above" and "below," but also to past and future, inner being and outer being, and so on. Coupling that with the Hermetic Principle of Mentalism, I came to the profound realization that my dilemma, allowing selfishness and greed to plant my adult career on the wrong foundation, has become identical to America's dilemma, in that this entire nation originally allowed the selfishness and greed of European colonialism to plant her on a foundation of white supremacy, land theft, and slavery. And even as I am struggling against my old foundation in my efforts to plant myself onto a new and correct one, America is struggling against her old foundation of racism, bigotry, and white supremacy in her efforts to plant herself onto a new and correct foundation of equality, human rights, civil rights, mutual respect, brotherhood for all, and sisterhood for all. Nevertheless, with regards to President Donald Trump, the Republican-majority Congress, and the Republican-majority Supreme Court, all of which appear to be an outright backlash against the previous Obama Administration, this may also be a warning to me that during this struggle of change, my old foundation may cause me as much bitter, hostile torment as America's old foundation is causing her.)
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
That being said, I am currently facing a dilemma that has been thirty-four years in the making, primarily because I spent thirty-four years violating the principle I just illustrated in the previous paragraph of this writing. When I graduated from High School in the Spring of 1983, it was no mystery that I was born to be an artist, being innately gifted in creative writing, dramatic theater, graphic arts, and music, with the strongest of these gifts being singing. I had inherited the gift of singing from my father, who had inherited the same gift from his father. But instead of choosing a career that reflected my innate gifts, I adamantly insisted that I belonged in the field of computers, which was still largely in its infancy back in 1983, in that there were no handheld smartphones and no public Internet yet. When I started college in 1983, I went into Electrical Engineering at the University of Southern California. Never mind the fact that USC also had (and still has) an outstanding School of Music, where I could have easily studied Classical and Jazz Vocals. I insisted on studying how to design computer circuits, something that would have been one of my more interesting hobbies, but something I was never gifted at doing. That first year was a disaster, and in the Spring of 1984, I was unable to maintain the scholarships that covered USC's outrageously expensive tuition fees, and was thus forced to transfer to a less expensive college. I chose the California State University in Northridge, not because I actually knew what I was doing, but because one of my High School friends started there. Still thinking that I'd be rich in the computer field, I majored in something computer-related. But because I had absolute disdain for CSUN's engineering program, I chose Computer Science, which dealt with the development of software, programming languages, and operating systems. While I was introduced to computer programming at twelve years of age, it was still a hobby, and not an innate gift. As such, I spent another eight-and-a-half years working on what should have been a four-year degree, and when I finally graduated in the Fall of 1992, I had a C+ grade-point average. And all that time in college, I kept trying to indulge in the artistic gifts I was innately born to pursue. I had it all wrong: I was pursuing a hobby as though it should have been a career, while treating what should have been my real career as though it were nothing more than a mere hobby, and I was suffering because of this.
When I finally graduated in the Fall of 1992, I was desperate for a job. Unlike my fellow Computer Science students at CSUN, who lined up their job opportunities and employer interviews BEFORE they graduated, I was too busy struggling with one Computer Science class after another, having to retake the classes I kept failing. So when I left college, I could only find jobs that were actually beneath my Bachelor's Degree, and this went on for almost a year. By the Fall of 1993, I was hired as a contractor for the Federal Aviation Administration's NISC Team. ("NISC" stood for "NAS Implementation Support Contract," and "NAS" stood for "National Airspace Systems.") I worked as a CAD Draftsman. Although the contract was supposed to last for seven years, the time-allotment was cut in half for a good number of us, and I was laid off in the Spring of 1997. While I was there, one of the innate gifts in my artistic suite, poetry, began to blossom as spoken-word poetry in 1996, so when I was laid off in 1997, I spent all of that year and a good part of 1998 writing and performing spoken-word poetry. Even though I was a "starving artist" doing the best I could on Unemployment, I never felt more alive and invigorated than when I was on-stage reciting the deep, strong, gentle, passionate, social, political, intelligent, sexual, spiritual things I wrote. I was being myself. Nevertheless, the real challenge came when my Unemployment funds ran out in 1998, and my income dropped to zero. Instead of coming to my senses and acknowledging that I was born to be an artist, and not to be an Information Technology professional, I shoved my artistic life back into the hobby-closet and sought another IT job, this time as a Systems Analyst with the City of Los Angeles, beginning at the Public Works' Bureau of Accounting in the Fall of 1998. The job was still a struggle, not just to maintain my knowledge of computers, but also to relate with groups of people I was never supposed to meet in the first place. My artistic temperament, emotional as it was, eventually got me into trouble with those co-workers, primarily because such temperament simply didn't belong in that kind of work environment. I suffered disciplinary action during the Summer of 2001, where I was also shut out of the office and placed on leave for three months. While I was on leave, I indulged in even more artistic endeavors, including music composition on a MIDI keyboard, sketching and computer graphics, and (of course) spoken-word poetry. When I was allowed to return to work, my co-workers and supervisors treated me with even more contempt than ever before, and they let me know in no uncertain terms that I was despised beyond measure. Except for the handful of people that actually befriended me, the rest were on a mission to erase me completely. My supervisors then forced me to do heavy work without back support, and in the Spring of 2002, I injured my lower back on the job. While I was on Disability, I hired an attorney to defend me. And I was very glad I hired that attorney, because in the Fall of 2006, when I returned to the same job with the work-restrictions imposed by my attorney, the same supervisors violated those restrictions, forced me to do similar difficult work, and re-injured my lower back in the early Spring of 2007, placing me back on Disability. I was on Disability for a total of seven years, and I was being paid as much as I would have been paid while on the job. And while I was on Disability for those seven years, I had the unbridled freedom to pursue my artistic talents once again. I composed several albums on that MIDI keyboard, thoroughly indulged myself in sketching and computer graphics, and wrote numerous new poems to recite as spoken word. But even then, in all that time, I still didn't pursue any of my artistic talents as an actual career, and the talent I gave the least attention to was singing. Instead, fuelled by my misinterpretations of a book I was reading called "Rich Dad Poor Dad," written by Robert Kiyosaki, I took on Vocational Rehabilitation to learn how to be a business entrepreneur, yet another field I was simply not gifted with. When I started this training in 2008, it was around the time a major economic deficit hit the entire nation, forcing many small businesses to permanently close their doors. While I was writing my business plan as my final examination for the online course I was taking, I reacted to the deficit, I froze, I lost my determination, I kept drawing blanks, I flunked out of the entire Vocational Rehabilitation program, and I went back to work for the City of Los Angeles in the Fall of 2009, but in an entirely different department than where I started in 1998. I regained my Systems Analyst job at the City's Information Technology Agency, where I started on the Citywide Helpdesk and then planned on moving up later on. But my plans at ITA were cut short when the same wave of economic hardship that hit the private sector in 2008 finally struck the government sector in the Fall of 2010. ITA was horrendously downsized, I was laid off, and per City Policy, I was transferred back to the same group of people I started with back in 1998, Public Works. The only difference was the Bureau in Public Works. In 1998, I started with the Bureau of Accounting. This time, in 2010, it was the Bureau of Sanitation. And from there, I was transferred to Hyperion Wastewater Treatment Plant, where I have been working to this day.
My IT career has all but dead-ended here at Hyperion. In addition to being surrounded by wastewater chemists, who were experts in a field that was even more alien to me than that of computers, I was still at best mediocre when it came to IT. And because the daily commute to and from Hyperion has gradually worsened as traffic congestion continues to mercilessly and exponentially increase, I spend far more time and energy dealing with the road than I ever do dealing with my job responsibilities or my increasingly obscured artistic talents, which (talents) were once again shoved back into the hobby-closet. Ever since 1983, I labored under the horrific misapprehension that making a ton of money and getting rich were the be-all and the end-all. That materialistic greed-centered thinking spurred me on to going after the wrong college degree, the wrong career, and the wrong Vocational Rehabilitation training. I should have realized early on that my value as a human being has absolutely nothing to do with being rich, and that my innate talents have absolutely nothing to do with insane quests for wealth. I should have sought after a career that reflected my natural-born gifts, not because it was the most financially profitable thing to do, but because it was the RIGHT thing to do. Nevertheless, these truths really didn't begin to sink into my inner paradigm until my mother suddenly died on May 27, 2014, and then my father died on February 1, 2015. The death of both parents, immediately followed by the death of my good friend and church elder Robert Holeman on January 30, 2016, and then the death of my dear friend and ex-girlfriend Jewel Allen on June 16, 2016, forced me to seriously rethink everything about my life, and I mean EVERYTHING. (Before my father died, he made me promise that I would use my singing voice in a professional manner, and I will honor that promise, even if it's the last thing I ever do.) I have learned the hard way, costing me thirty-four years of my natural life, that only a fool chases after wealth and riches. You are NEVER supposed to chase after wealth and riches: when you live the life you were born to live, and fulfill the talents you were born to fulfill, wealth and riches will chase after you. In fact, the more you chase after wealth and riches, the POORER you will become, first in your very soul, and then in your material possessions (or lack thereof). I am not saying that one shouldn't learn how to be wise with his or her money, nor am I saying that one shouldn't be financially literate. What I am saying is that one should not ever pursue money as though it were the most important thing in life, and that one should not ever worship money like a god.
Ultimately, I have learned that the talents I was born with, and neither the talents that looked awesome to me nor the talents I thought would make me rich, should have been the talents that shaped my career. All of the awesome-looking talents and the so-called wealth-building talents, none of which came naturally to me, were only meant to be nothing more than hobbies. Now, as I move forward, I have the enormous responsibility of uprooting the thirty-four years of my adult life built upon a computer hobby that should not have ever been my career, and then replacing that corrupt foundation with one consisting of my natural-born vocal, musical, artistic, poetic, literary, and dramatic talents as my permanent career. I seriously need to achieve this before I get too old to find my wife and have children of my own. And I absolutely cannot afford to be set in my ways, since nearly all of them are based on a thirty-four-year-old error.
(I have also come to realize that my foundational dilemma may have far more profoundly esoteric consequences than I had originally imagined, especially with regards to current events in American politics. In my recent studies of the Seven Hermetic Principles, I learned that the Hermetic Principle of Correspondence not only applies to "above" and "below," but also to past and future, inner being and outer being, and so on. Coupling that with the Hermetic Principle of Mentalism, I came to the profound realization that my dilemma, allowing selfishness and greed to plant my adult career on the wrong foundation, has become identical to America's dilemma, in that this entire nation originally allowed the selfishness and greed of European colonialism to plant her on a foundation of white supremacy, land theft, and slavery. And even as I am struggling against my old foundation in my efforts to plant myself onto a new and correct one, America is struggling against her old foundation of racism, bigotry, and white supremacy in her efforts to plant herself onto a new and correct foundation of equality, human rights, civil rights, mutual respect, brotherhood for all, and sisterhood for all. Nevertheless, with regards to President Donald Trump, the Republican-majority Congress, and the Republican-majority Supreme Court, all of which appear to be an outright backlash against the previous Obama Administration, this may also be a warning to me that during this struggle of change, my old foundation may cause me as much bitter, hostile torment as America's old foundation is causing her.)
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
The Same Door
As before, so after; as after, so before.
Everything that begins must end,
and only that which had no beginning has no end.
Those who are eternal, yet clothed in flesh for a time,
must one day disrobe themselves of all flesh
and return to the eternal from whence they came.
Whether we allow ourselves to wither away and die of old age,
or we choose to Ascend to the supernatural and then
finally remove the carnal garment we wore for a million years,
we always leave through the same door we entered in.
Even Jesus, Who was born in Bethlehem, died on the cross at Calvary,
while the WORD, WHO PRE-EXISTED the birth of Jesus,
was the ONE RAISED from the dead after His death,
and will LIVE FOREVER, even as HE has already LIVED FOREVER.
And even as one man's offense eons ago
ended the celestial human race and bound us all to death,
the SACRIFICE of Jesus Christ eons later ENDED our bondage to death
and RESTORED the celestial human race.
As before, so after; as after, so before.
We always leave through the same door we entered in.
Immortality is the eternal, while damnation is nothingness.
That which is good respects, cherishes, and promotes life,
tending towards the eternal,
while that which is evil disrespects, despises, and destroys life,
tending towards nothingness.
The one who will be immortal was already immortal before birth,
and the one who will be damned was already damned before birth.
Though we must all live out our lives in the face of time,
we always leave through the same door we entered in,
the eternal to the eternal, and nothingness to nothingness,
immortality to immortality, and damnation to damnation.
Every cause has its effect, and every effect has its cause,
fixed and written as DIVINE STASIS, PERFECT in BEING.
The seed can only produce fruit after its own nature:
good seeds produce good fruits, and evil seeds produce evil fruits:
nothing escapes DIVINE LAW.
Simply live out your life within the face of time,
and be prepared to gracefully leave through the same door you entered in,
either by allowing yourself to die of old age,
or by choosing to Ascend to the supernatural and then finally
removing the carnal garment you wore
for a million years.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Everything that begins must end,
and only that which had no beginning has no end.
Those who are eternal, yet clothed in flesh for a time,
must one day disrobe themselves of all flesh
and return to the eternal from whence they came.
Whether we allow ourselves to wither away and die of old age,
or we choose to Ascend to the supernatural and then
finally remove the carnal garment we wore for a million years,
we always leave through the same door we entered in.
Even Jesus, Who was born in Bethlehem, died on the cross at Calvary,
while the WORD, WHO PRE-EXISTED the birth of Jesus,
was the ONE RAISED from the dead after His death,
and will LIVE FOREVER, even as HE has already LIVED FOREVER.
And even as one man's offense eons ago
ended the celestial human race and bound us all to death,
the SACRIFICE of Jesus Christ eons later ENDED our bondage to death
and RESTORED the celestial human race.
As before, so after; as after, so before.
We always leave through the same door we entered in.
Immortality is the eternal, while damnation is nothingness.
That which is good respects, cherishes, and promotes life,
tending towards the eternal,
while that which is evil disrespects, despises, and destroys life,
tending towards nothingness.
The one who will be immortal was already immortal before birth,
and the one who will be damned was already damned before birth.
Though we must all live out our lives in the face of time,
we always leave through the same door we entered in,
the eternal to the eternal, and nothingness to nothingness,
immortality to immortality, and damnation to damnation.
Every cause has its effect, and every effect has its cause,
fixed and written as DIVINE STASIS, PERFECT in BEING.
The seed can only produce fruit after its own nature:
good seeds produce good fruits, and evil seeds produce evil fruits:
nothing escapes DIVINE LAW.
Simply live out your life within the face of time,
and be prepared to gracefully leave through the same door you entered in,
either by allowing yourself to die of old age,
or by choosing to Ascend to the supernatural and then finally
removing the carnal garment you wore
for a million years.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Letting Grief Happen
For most of us, our parents are the first source of truly unconditional love. And oftentimes, they are the greatest source of all. Our mother and father welcomed us into this life, nurtured us when we were helpless, comforted us when we were sad, healed us when we were hurt, and taught us everything we needed to know in order to be mature, intelligent, respectable, kind, virtuous, decent, loving people. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter how mature we are or how old we get. Whenever anyone's parents pass away, the sorrow associated with losing those two unconditionally loving souls can be far too deep to name, and the grief can last for years, even decades. The tears will always be true, the painful feeling of loneliness will always be honest, and profound grief will always be sincere. The more you have loved your parents, the deeper the sorrow you will feel when they pass away. I have had to learn that whenever I suffer these overwhelming moments of tearful sorrow, I simply need to let go and let them happen, for as long as they need to happen. This is how I grieve the loss of my mother, who passed away on May 27, 2014, and my father, who passed away on February 1, 2015. And because I loved both of them very, very deeply, I am truly uncertain as to whether or not I will ever be able to mourn their passing without any overwhelmingly tearful grief. Ultimately, I must allow all of these waves of grief to move freely within my heart, and I must accept everything I feel, so that I may truly be healed.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
My Cross
To this day,
I still cannot make sense of it,
bear it in a mature, reasonable fashion. Nevertheless, this
I only know far too well:
the more profoundly you love someone,
the more deeply you will weep, and the longer you will grieve,
when death finally renders you bereaved. Since my mother's passing,
followed shortly by the loss of my father,
my soul has been crucified every day,
my tears flowing like heavy droplets of blood from my wounded heart,
an ongoing pain, monumental, like pierced wrists and feet,
my hopes eviscerated, like the spear thrust into the side,
my mind overwhelmed with sorrow, like a bloody crown of thorns.
Every day, I am wrapped in the gossamer linen of my deepest memories,
gently placed inside the cold, dark tomb of forgotten dreams,
and sealed in with the heavy stone of finality,
only to be raised up yet again, released from that lonely prison,
and given another chance to live, to change, to heal, to hope, to dream, to believe,
to love.
Every day,
I carry the heavy cross that brings me to tears. And to this day,
I still cannot make sense of it,
bear it in a mature,
reasonable fashion.
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I still cannot make sense of it,
bear it in a mature, reasonable fashion. Nevertheless, this
I only know far too well:
the more profoundly you love someone,
the more deeply you will weep, and the longer you will grieve,
when death finally renders you bereaved. Since my mother's passing,
followed shortly by the loss of my father,
my soul has been crucified every day,
my tears flowing like heavy droplets of blood from my wounded heart,
an ongoing pain, monumental, like pierced wrists and feet,
my hopes eviscerated, like the spear thrust into the side,
my mind overwhelmed with sorrow, like a bloody crown of thorns.
Every day, I am wrapped in the gossamer linen of my deepest memories,
gently placed inside the cold, dark tomb of forgotten dreams,
and sealed in with the heavy stone of finality,
only to be raised up yet again, released from that lonely prison,
and given another chance to live, to change, to heal, to hope, to dream, to believe,
to love.
Every day,
I carry the heavy cross that brings me to tears. And to this day,
I still cannot make sense of it,
bear it in a mature,
reasonable fashion.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Founded upon Death
I watch as a myriad of people ponder the mundane,
while I instead survey the very foundation that supports us all.
Either they cannot see that where they stand is made of
quicksand,
or they simply refuse to open their eyes, and are morbidly afraid of
the truth,
that there is no such thing as safety
when everyone is mortal,
and there is no such thing as peace
when everyone can die,
and there is no such thing as righteousness
when every last human being can be reduced to nothingness
by the grave. And I am always aware of this
ever-present loneliness,
that even if I do manage to open the door of eternal life,
no one will pass through it with me,
simply because they fear the unfamiliar,
and they blindly trust in their world founded upon death,
a reality where everybody dies,
and no one lives forever.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
while I instead survey the very foundation that supports us all.
Either they cannot see that where they stand is made of
quicksand,
or they simply refuse to open their eyes, and are morbidly afraid of
the truth,
that there is no such thing as safety
when everyone is mortal,
and there is no such thing as peace
when everyone can die,
and there is no such thing as righteousness
when every last human being can be reduced to nothingness
by the grave. And I am always aware of this
ever-present loneliness,
that even if I do manage to open the door of eternal life,
no one will pass through it with me,
simply because they fear the unfamiliar,
and they blindly trust in their world founded upon death,
a reality where everybody dies,
and no one lives forever.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Compassion Capital
How can anyone find compassion
in a world where "love" is spelled "M" "O" "N" "E" "Y"?
Is there any hope in this miserably overcrowded place, any hope
for the lonely soul who has lost so many loved ones,
for the soul so alone in this world and
about to sorrowfully fall through the cracks?
Sometimes, you just don't know how you got here,
and you can't even tell where "here" is.
You could be poor, rich, or somewhere in between,
and the lonely solitude still hits you like a ton of bricks,
silently weighs down on your chest and
keeps you paralyzed for hours as you constantly ask yourself
where your life took that wrong turn.
And while you're still looking for at least one sincere friend,
everyone else is still looking for another paycheck,
another score in the hustle, another sucker to con,
as if dead presidents were the only people that really mattered.
They'll only have but so much compassion on any soul
if there are enough dead presidents in it for them.
And in the end, those very people will be so poor,
the only thing they'll ever have is a whole lot of money.
---
It's easy to find friends in a place
where people are loved and things are used.
But how can you find any friends in a place
where things are loved
and people are
used?
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
in a world where "love" is spelled "M" "O" "N" "E" "Y"?
Is there any hope in this miserably overcrowded place, any hope
for the lonely soul who has lost so many loved ones,
for the soul so alone in this world and
about to sorrowfully fall through the cracks?
Sometimes, you just don't know how you got here,
and you can't even tell where "here" is.
You could be poor, rich, or somewhere in between,
and the lonely solitude still hits you like a ton of bricks,
silently weighs down on your chest and
keeps you paralyzed for hours as you constantly ask yourself
where your life took that wrong turn.
And while you're still looking for at least one sincere friend,
everyone else is still looking for another paycheck,
another score in the hustle, another sucker to con,
as if dead presidents were the only people that really mattered.
They'll only have but so much compassion on any soul
if there are enough dead presidents in it for them.
And in the end, those very people will be so poor,
the only thing they'll ever have is a whole lot of money.
---
It's easy to find friends in a place
where people are loved and things are used.
But how can you find any friends in a place
where things are loved
and people are
used?
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Tombstones of Sorrow
We weep for the brokenhearted
who no longer have the tears to weep for themselves.
We weep for the dearly departed like
heavy raindrops blanketing fields of tombstones.
We grope to and fro in the darkness of our own
willful ignorance, morbidly afraid to feel the pain of losing and
never being able to hold again. Every so often,
we build campfires for one another,
solitary beacons of light in the pitch-black darkness,
and we huddle around the flame for warmth,
holding each other like dearest long-lost friends,
embracing each other for peace, brotherhood, sisterhood, love,
some ever-waning sense of familiarity,
until the heavy rains return, extinguish the flame of mercy,
and leave us to once again grope in the boundless darkness,
amidst the tombstones of sorrow.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
who no longer have the tears to weep for themselves.
We weep for the dearly departed like
heavy raindrops blanketing fields of tombstones.
We grope to and fro in the darkness of our own
willful ignorance, morbidly afraid to feel the pain of losing and
never being able to hold again. Every so often,
we build campfires for one another,
solitary beacons of light in the pitch-black darkness,
and we huddle around the flame for warmth,
holding each other like dearest long-lost friends,
embracing each other for peace, brotherhood, sisterhood, love,
some ever-waning sense of familiarity,
until the heavy rains return, extinguish the flame of mercy,
and leave us to once again grope in the boundless darkness,
amidst the tombstones of sorrow.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Just Like All the Others
You arrive at the beach, pulling a large wagon
filled with bricks made of dirt. You're determined to build your castle.
And those dirt bricks are feeble, each one no bigger than your hand.
And the only foundation you have is the loose earth
next to the sand, a soil too soft to use for replacement bricks.
All of your hopes and dreams are in the completion of this castle.
But while you're building it, several nearby children run towards it and
forcefully knock it down with absolute arrogance and disrespect.
And every time you try to rebuild your castle,
the same rude, laughing children run by and knock it down,
no matter how many times you angrily scold them.
At one point, when you start building your castle for the umpteenth time,
and you see those same disrespectful little brats poised to attack,
you plead with their parents to restrain them,
and you do your best to reason with those parents as mature adults,
only to be met with scornful, mocking laughter from those same parents
as they join hands with their children and knock down your incomplete castle
with enough force to shatter some of those irreplaceable dirt bricks.
You have no choice but to take your wagon, load the remaining bricks,
and journey to another part of the beach, another foundation of loose earth,
as far away from those disrespectful children and their wretched parents
as possible. But no matter how many times you move, or where,
there's always another set of spoiled brats knocking down every castle you build,
always another group of equally disrespectful parents helping them knock it down,
and always the loss of that many more precious dirt bricks,
until the moment arrives, when you realize that your wagon is completely empty,
and you are forced to leave the beach, never to return again.
"That fool was just like all the others," shout the parents and their children,
with howling laughter.
---
There is always that noblest ancient dream
of building an eternal castle,
established upon a sure foundation of solid rock,
and made with bricks consisting of the finest gold.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
filled with bricks made of dirt. You're determined to build your castle.
And those dirt bricks are feeble, each one no bigger than your hand.
And the only foundation you have is the loose earth
next to the sand, a soil too soft to use for replacement bricks.
All of your hopes and dreams are in the completion of this castle.
But while you're building it, several nearby children run towards it and
forcefully knock it down with absolute arrogance and disrespect.
And every time you try to rebuild your castle,
the same rude, laughing children run by and knock it down,
no matter how many times you angrily scold them.
At one point, when you start building your castle for the umpteenth time,
and you see those same disrespectful little brats poised to attack,
you plead with their parents to restrain them,
and you do your best to reason with those parents as mature adults,
only to be met with scornful, mocking laughter from those same parents
as they join hands with their children and knock down your incomplete castle
with enough force to shatter some of those irreplaceable dirt bricks.
You have no choice but to take your wagon, load the remaining bricks,
and journey to another part of the beach, another foundation of loose earth,
as far away from those disrespectful children and their wretched parents
as possible. But no matter how many times you move, or where,
there's always another set of spoiled brats knocking down every castle you build,
always another group of equally disrespectful parents helping them knock it down,
and always the loss of that many more precious dirt bricks,
until the moment arrives, when you realize that your wagon is completely empty,
and you are forced to leave the beach, never to return again.
"That fool was just like all the others," shout the parents and their children,
with howling laughter.
---
There is always that noblest ancient dream
of building an eternal castle,
established upon a sure foundation of solid rock,
and made with bricks consisting of the finest gold.
Copyright © 2017, All Rights Reserved
Saturday, January 28, 2017
The Presidency that Rejected Trump
In the Presidential Inauguration of 1989, Ronald W. Reagan successfully passed the Mantle of the Presidency from himself to George H. W. Bush. In 1993, it was successfully passed from George H. W. Bush to William J. Clinton. In 2001, it was successfully passed from William J. Clinton to George W. Bush. And in 2009, it was successfully passed from George W. Bush to Barack H. Obama. But in 2017, when Barack H. Obama passed it from himself to Donald J. Trump, it utterly refused to abide with Trump, and immediately returned to Obama. As such, when Barack and Michelle Obama left Washington, D.C., the Mantle of the Presidency left with them, effectively rendering them a President and First Lady in Exile, but still the President and First Lady of the United States of America. This is why the current Executive Branch under Trump is utterly void of valid leadership, and Trump is President in verbal title only, while utterly lacking the spiritual authority.
Americans are On Their Own
Nothing in this present world is ever truly guaranteed. Freedom is not guaranteed. Liberty is not guaranteed. Justice is not guaranteed. Equality is not guaranteed. Human rights are not guaranteed. Even environmental responsibility is not guaranteed. So when I say that nothing in this present world is ever truly guaranteed, I mean that ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in this present world is ever truly guaranteed. Freedom, liberty, justice, equality, human rights, environmental responsibility, fair education, affordable health care, affordable housing, ALL of these things have to be maintained with an ever-present, around-the-clock vigilance, and they must ALL be continuously protected and defended against the viciously selfish parasites who constantly threaten them, even if those parasites manage to gain control of the Federal Government.
That having been said, the American people were wrong to traditionally expect the Federal Government to defend issues such as environmental preservation, public education, public health, civil rights, and immigrant rights for them. And at the beginning of the year 2017, when President Barack Obama stepped down and Donald Trump was sworn in, we all learned that bitter lesson the hard way. In the first week of his Presidency, Trump has behaved more like an arrogantly childish version of Hitler and Stalin than like a mature, dignified President, using Sean Spicer, Kellyanne Conway, and Steve Bannon as his propaganda ministers to spew forth heinous lies and vitriol like billions of gallons of untreated wastewater throughout the land, all the while swiftly and recklessly taking unprecedented vicious actions to silence and crush every last wing of the Federal Government that stood in defense of the American people. He has signed an executive order authorizing the construction of the controversial Keystone XL and Dakota Access Oil Pipelines, cutting across Native American lands against the will of the Native American tribes residing there. He has signed an executive order for the building of a border wall between the United States and Mexico, and for the termination of "sanctuary city" status for American cities that have been harboring illegal immigrants and their families for decades. He has signed an executive order that effectively bans Muslim immigrants from certain countries, an act that amounts to nothing more than hateful religious discrimination. He has signed executive orders laying the groundwork for dismantling the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare because of his immediate predecessor. He has recklessly threatened the well-being of our American servicemen and servicewomen by hinting, during a CIA speech, that there may be another opportunity to seize Iraqi oil in the future. And his administration has issued a gag-order against all scientific data reports from the Environmental Protection Agency and all national parks, even as he simultaneously appointed Oklahoma Attorney General Scott Pruitt, a known opponent of the EPA, to be its very Director.
It has now become a bitter truth to those Americans who embraced environmental preservation, civil rights, and immigrant rights, and once enjoyed Federal support from the Obama Administration concerning those and numerous other public issues, that they will now have to defend those issues on their own, and without any Federal support whatsoever. In fact, those same Americans can now expect vicious opposition from the Federal Government as a result of the Trump Administration, which has appointed a cabinet consisting of billionaire industrialists who could care that much less about environmental preservation, public education, public health, agricultural regulation, or any other Federal service that defends the well-being of the general public. And if President Trump successfully destroys the EPA, the same environmentalists will have to successfully run their own nationwide non-profit organization, perpetually staffed by scientists and lawyers dedicated to environmental protection and conservation. If such an organization does not already exist, then those environmentalists will also have to create and grow it on their own. This organization will have to be vigorously active in the legal arena, constantly holding responsible both big industry and the Federal Government that now supports that industry outright, and constantly able to defend itself against every last hostile attack from both the Trump-led Federal Government and the environmentally reckless big industries Trump protects. The same things that hold true for environmental preservation also hold true for public education, public health, agriculture, and any other public service that has been overseen by a Federal Agency. As with the EPA, if President Trump also manages to destroy all of these Federal Agencies, the American people will have absolutely no alternative but to stand together in solidarity, form other nationwide non-profit legal organizations, strengthen existing non-profit legal organizations, and fend for themselves through all of those non-profit legal organizations. Hopefully, the American people will not have to find out the hard way that even democracy in this present world is not guaranteed.
As Former-President Barack Obama and countless others have reminded us, time and again, democracy always requires the participation of ALL the people in this country, in order to work for the benefit of ALL the people in this country. This means that if you want to get the job done, you just have to put on your toughest work-shoes and do the job yourself. You may have to organize rallies yourself, raise billions of dollars yourself, build and incorporate non-profit organizations yourself, assemble a brilliant team of professionals yourself, and fight some real battles in the Washington halls of power yourself. The good news is that you are not alone. There are many Americans in this great nation, from countless walks of life, all of whom are as overwhelmingly passionate, brilliant, and resourceful as you, in their own unique way. Unite all of these great minds and hearts with yours, and the result will be an unstoppable force capable of achieving anything.
That having been said, the American people were wrong to traditionally expect the Federal Government to defend issues such as environmental preservation, public education, public health, civil rights, and immigrant rights for them. And at the beginning of the year 2017, when President Barack Obama stepped down and Donald Trump was sworn in, we all learned that bitter lesson the hard way. In the first week of his Presidency, Trump has behaved more like an arrogantly childish version of Hitler and Stalin than like a mature, dignified President, using Sean Spicer, Kellyanne Conway, and Steve Bannon as his propaganda ministers to spew forth heinous lies and vitriol like billions of gallons of untreated wastewater throughout the land, all the while swiftly and recklessly taking unprecedented vicious actions to silence and crush every last wing of the Federal Government that stood in defense of the American people. He has signed an executive order authorizing the construction of the controversial Keystone XL and Dakota Access Oil Pipelines, cutting across Native American lands against the will of the Native American tribes residing there. He has signed an executive order for the building of a border wall between the United States and Mexico, and for the termination of "sanctuary city" status for American cities that have been harboring illegal immigrants and their families for decades. He has signed an executive order that effectively bans Muslim immigrants from certain countries, an act that amounts to nothing more than hateful religious discrimination. He has signed executive orders laying the groundwork for dismantling the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare because of his immediate predecessor. He has recklessly threatened the well-being of our American servicemen and servicewomen by hinting, during a CIA speech, that there may be another opportunity to seize Iraqi oil in the future. And his administration has issued a gag-order against all scientific data reports from the Environmental Protection Agency and all national parks, even as he simultaneously appointed Oklahoma Attorney General Scott Pruitt, a known opponent of the EPA, to be its very Director.
It has now become a bitter truth to those Americans who embraced environmental preservation, civil rights, and immigrant rights, and once enjoyed Federal support from the Obama Administration concerning those and numerous other public issues, that they will now have to defend those issues on their own, and without any Federal support whatsoever. In fact, those same Americans can now expect vicious opposition from the Federal Government as a result of the Trump Administration, which has appointed a cabinet consisting of billionaire industrialists who could care that much less about environmental preservation, public education, public health, agricultural regulation, or any other Federal service that defends the well-being of the general public. And if President Trump successfully destroys the EPA, the same environmentalists will have to successfully run their own nationwide non-profit organization, perpetually staffed by scientists and lawyers dedicated to environmental protection and conservation. If such an organization does not already exist, then those environmentalists will also have to create and grow it on their own. This organization will have to be vigorously active in the legal arena, constantly holding responsible both big industry and the Federal Government that now supports that industry outright, and constantly able to defend itself against every last hostile attack from both the Trump-led Federal Government and the environmentally reckless big industries Trump protects. The same things that hold true for environmental preservation also hold true for public education, public health, agriculture, and any other public service that has been overseen by a Federal Agency. As with the EPA, if President Trump also manages to destroy all of these Federal Agencies, the American people will have absolutely no alternative but to stand together in solidarity, form other nationwide non-profit legal organizations, strengthen existing non-profit legal organizations, and fend for themselves through all of those non-profit legal organizations. Hopefully, the American people will not have to find out the hard way that even democracy in this present world is not guaranteed.
As Former-President Barack Obama and countless others have reminded us, time and again, democracy always requires the participation of ALL the people in this country, in order to work for the benefit of ALL the people in this country. This means that if you want to get the job done, you just have to put on your toughest work-shoes and do the job yourself. You may have to organize rallies yourself, raise billions of dollars yourself, build and incorporate non-profit organizations yourself, assemble a brilliant team of professionals yourself, and fight some real battles in the Washington halls of power yourself. The good news is that you are not alone. There are many Americans in this great nation, from countless walks of life, all of whom are as overwhelmingly passionate, brilliant, and resourceful as you, in their own unique way. Unite all of these great minds and hearts with yours, and the result will be an unstoppable force capable of achieving anything.
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Concerning the Disturbing Presidency of Donald Trump
If we are to survive as a nation, then we need to maintain the fundamental truth, as a nation, that there are basic human rights and virtues which absolutely cannot be compromised in any way, and that we absolutely cannot allow any man, any woman, or any child to be verbally or physically violated by any such compromise. No matter how desperate any city or state economy gets, no matter how many jobs leave any given community, and no matter how many homes get foreclosed, we as a nation simply cannot vote anyone into the Presidency (or into any office of public service, for that matter) who consistently and unapologetically denigrates and abuses any group of Americans based on their gender, race, religion, nationality, sexual orientation, or any other personal trait. It does not matter what kind of promises any Presidential candidate makes: no political agenda should ever be built on a foundation consisting of misogyny, rape, sexual assault, racism, bigotry, prejudice, homophobia, Islamophobia, xenophobia, or any combination of these heinous practices. If you as a voter really love your country, then you simply cannot sell out your nation's collective humanity and dignity for the sake of any economic campaign promise. We must always insure that America equally belongs to ALL Americans of ALL genders, ALL races, ALL religions, ALL nationalities, and ALL sexual orientations, that "Liberty and Justice for All" means "LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL." If we cannot put our own collective basic human rights of dignity, sanctity, virtue, and equality above our own selfish nationalistic desire for prosperity, especially when a particular political candidate deceitfully feeds on our nationalistic desire while repeatedly violating our basic human rights, then this nation as a whole has completely lost her sense of purpose, her moral integrity, and her very right to exist.
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