Yeats, The Second Coming

Interesting reflection of current perceptions 2016


Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Age and Understanding

I like getting older, actually. I really do. I've let go of a lot of things that caused me pain. I'm so much more confident in my abilities, boundaries, and talents. I don't put up with jerks and poseurs. I call it like I see it. I've embraced my strengths and I don't let anyone tell me what's ladylike and what's not.

I am who I am now. I'm fully me and that is so totally awesome. True my body is not as strong as I'd like, but my spirit is and, really, that's what's most important. At least it's important to me.

I still have a lot to learn, I'll grant you. But today I am my own superhero. That's a nice place to be.

Get Over It. It's Only a Flesh Wound

I read something very important a few days ago that I'd like to share. It concerned the importance of language and how what we call something shapes our thoughts and understanding.

The specific topic was about people who have mental health issues. Look at that phrase, "mental health issues". It implies people have a choice. We can choose to make an issue out of something. We can resolve an issue. We can table an issue.

Also, the word "mental" is slippery and can be viewed as amorphous, intangible, not real. It isn't tied to an organ, like cancer is defined. Breast cancer, for example, is tangible, concrete. Or Parkinson's (nervous system) or Cardiomyopathy (heart). These are recognized as diseases that can disable or kill.

So, I agree with the author who said there are no mental health issues or illnesses. What is in the world is "Brain Disease." People with brain disease know there is no cure, only treatment. They know it is often fatal. They know it is a crippling and permanent disability that changes your entire life and how you are in the world. And, even worse, it's genetic and can be passed to your children. Medicine may help, if you're lucky.

And the people with brain disease are told to get over it. They are only seeking attention, they are weak and defective and could make it go away if they really wanted to. Imagine saying that to someone with cancer, that they are a selfish hypochondriac.

It made me realize we need to change our language and convert ridicule to compassion and change disregard into research dollars. If we can, it will save lives.

It's worked so well thus far...

Tough topic, and too much for Facebook I am sure. No trigger alerts, no apologies. No protection from scaring you, angering you, or making you feel bad. So woman up and deal with it. Life brings tough conversations and I am sick of this culture of pain avoidance and "safe" zones.

You can avoid unhappy topics, but at great cost. I could paint the picture of the slippery slope to fascism this kind of denial leads to, but another time. I want to talk about the most painful topic of all, the violent death of children.

There is great focus on the violent death of children, particularly school shootings. We are rightly outraged and revolted and there is a clear call to action.

But we are avoiding the true cultural breakdown that leads to these deaths. We are taking the easy road. The polarized road. We are hammering on the fortress of the Constituition and launching our own violent offensive against the Second Amendment. And we are slowly chipping away at the foundation. Those who are confused and afraid are successfully recruiting more and more desperate soldiers. If we keep it up, the walls of our Constitution will crumble bit by bit, and we will dissolve as a nation.

The Second Amendment is not a murderer. It is a precept of freedom built from history and experience. It is a shield against tyranny, enacted to ensure we remain free and self-directed citizens. If you think tyranny, oligarchy, and cruel, violent dictatorship can't happen here, well history has proven you wrong for thousands of years. Our Founders wisely learned from history in order to make sure we did not repeat it. But now we are faced with an ignorant and forgetful nation. We do not remember what came before.

The Constitution is not responsible for spilling the blood of our children. Until we accept that, more will die. The Second Amendment is a protection, not a weapon.

With our culture of freedom and self-reliance we have come to believe that strength of mind and body are the hallmarks of being an American. We are powerful, or were, and want to stand strong in our ability to adapt, overcome, survive, and win.

But we have a weakness, and it is fatal. We refuse to address it because we are afraid. We are afraid and tolerate the massacre of children because we don't want to admit we have an all too human fatal flaw. And we are apparently willing to pay the price.

The thing that shall not be named is the mental health of our citizens, our children and young adults who are alone and boiling with hate and desolation. They are abandoned by society even though their parents beg for help. The parents are the Oracles that no one believes. They often fear their children and plead for assistance to save the child they love. They scream the need to intervene and protect others, but our society shuns them. It is an unmentionable sin to be weak, mentally unstable, and demon-ridden in American society. We would rather let them explode in unspeakable horror as a way to release those demons, than craft a culture of support and treatment; a culture of intervention before it's too late.

A mother calls the police begging for help. Her son has threatened to kill her. He's angry, out of control. The police have few options. They say, "There's nothing we can do until he breaks the law." In other words, we can't help you until he kills you. Maybe 24 hours of observation at the hospital and a short conversation with a busy social worker occurs. But the son can act as if he isn't angry and at the breaking point. He's discharged.

A father calls a psychiatrist. "My son", as these killers are usually male, "My son won't take his medication. He's 25 and psychotic. What do I do?"

The psychiatrist can't help, "He's an adult. He can make his own decisions. I'm sorry."

When? When will face our fears? When will we stop attacking an idea and build a system that intervenes with the real cause? When will we decide enough is enough? Not yet apparently.

Instead we pretend that poorly thought out, unresearched words on paper mean something. We pretend additional gun restrictions will block madness and deadly intent. Legislators say, "A new process is what we need.", and they convince a grieving society that gun laws mean something. They try to prove a law on paper can stop a speeding bullet from someone who is willing to die in order to kill people. The killer knows he probably won't make it out alive and he wants it that way.

Until we grapple with the demons that drive psychosis and mental breakdowns.  Until we put together a nationwide system of intervention and treatment. Until we demonstrate our American ability to adapt, survive and overcome. Until we use our strength to say enough. Until we stop blaming an idea that protects us all and instead focus on the true cause, we are doomed, and children and adults will die, horribly. And we as a nation will die with them.

It used to be no one would say the word cancer out loud. Then HIV was the unforgivable sin, although, eventually, we opened our hearts. But through it all, modern American society has shunned those who suffer in their minds. Cancer patients are supported, loved, cared for from beginning to end, and beyond.

The expedited and furious research eventually applied to the public health crisis of HIV and AIDS found treatments to prolong life in record time.

In the mental health field, patients are still using medications developed 50 years ago, or more. And we really don't know exactly why some of them work, or which one to try first. It's a game of Russian roulette with potentially deadly side effects. The brain is slowly being discovered, at a snail's pace compared to other equally deadly diseases.

So go and hide behind your paper shields of law, and your "Gun Free Zone" signs. Increase the vulnerability of our most vulnerable populations. Increase the number of fish in the barrel.

Go on. Refuse to hire armed, professional security for our schools. Continue on fighting the phantom menace of our Constitutionally-protected personal freedoms and the tools that defend our nation.

Go on and deny the most devastating healthcare epidemic we've faced since the Spanish flu.

Go on. It's worked so well thus far.

This is a scene that's been in my head for a long time.

HE CRIES...

His long hair brushes the collar of his battered leather jacket. He can taste the bitter dust of 2000 years on his toungue. Like the lone Joshua tree, he stands silent on the street corner as life flows around him. Shopkeepers call out their livelihoods looking for converts to the sale. Children ever strong and joyful chase their youth around the square seeking nothing but the moment. 

He pulls one more drag on a dying cigarette, the red coals flare. And he waits. 

He sees the young soldier, absolute in his resolve, marching to death's cadence as he enters the square and halts.

Their gazes lock for a moment and time suspends, an infinity of sadness. With a defiant shake of his head, the soldier holds hands with death and detonates destruction. 

The blast is a thousand storms and endless screaming that tears at the man's soul.

And he waits. Dust billows, sirens scream, and mothers wail. He crushes the cigarette with the heel of his boot. He stretches out his arms as the angels rise from the innocent battered bodies and seek him. 

He gathers the wing'd children, the stooped grandmothers, the shopkeepers, the lovers and the friends.  He takes them up to an angels rest. And he cries. 

Once more...with feeling

It seems that the older you get the more quickly time decides to speed by. My father used to try and tell me that, but like so many (read ALL) young people I never really understood what he was saying. Now I do. You go to bed on Friday and when you wake up it is Monday. Then Tuesday rolls around and suddenly it is Friday again! Young whippersnappers drive too fast in their trucks, expect snap decisions, and overall move out of phase with us older folks. Time is a paradox. Sometimes it moves too fast and other times, well no...it always moves too fast. My toddlers are now 12 and 14. My bones are suddenly non-compliant with my mind, and my brain... Well let's just say the light are on, but the tenant has gone to the store and left the lights on.

This blog is a prime example. I blinked and a year went by.  Many pithy moments and engaging moments lost to time. Ah, well. Never too late to start up again.

So off I go to wake up a teenager to buy school clothes.  Always a dicey proposition, waking her up. Never know if I am to get a good morning hug or step on a Bouncing Betty. (Look it up.)

Time marches on. Make the most of it. It'll be gone before you know it.

Anyone out there?

Hello? Tap, tap. Is this thing on? Anyone out there? So a duck walks into a bar... No that's not right. Wait...Hang on. I'm a little rusty. So, I'm back. Sort of. I am having trouble making time for this blog in my brain and in my life. Mothers are constantly interrupted. I have so far been asked five separate questions...now six...as I try to type this on my iPad. The two difficulties combined sap the creative thoughts out of my brain. My daughter is downloading software, my husband is designing dog agility jumps for her and the other daughter won't get dressed even though I am trying to get her in the car. You actually have no idea how much is swirling about me. I feel like Dorothy in the tornado. I even have a dog whining at my feet. Calgon, take me away! Either I need to find a better time, or ditch the pad. This is ridiculous. More later. News at 11.

Willow has arrived

Greetings all. Here is our new puppy. You have no idea what it took to get her. When I have recovered more I will post the story.

2Cellos make my heart sing

If you don't know these guys, pay attention. They are gonna be big!

Clap your hands!

Something really wild but oddly addictive.

The sun is back in the frozen state and my brain is slowly thawing out. I have started a new job, well, 7 months ago, and I am finally settling in. Time has been my enemy lately and I am struggling to keep head and heart together in one blissful unit. Ah well, we all have the challenge of learning to be happy.

The moose are fed up with the deep snow and are moving into the urban areas, i.e., downtown, and you cross paths with them more often than the neighborhood dogs. Some of them are so tame you can put your Ken doll on one and let it go for a ride! (Long story, search the Alaska Outdoor Forum for that one.)

As I slowly come back to life with the return of warmth and light, I will try to be more available and funny. Right now, no fantastic words of wisdom or pithy comments on the state of the world. Just hanging on, like so many people in the world right now. Hanging on and counting my blessings. And trying not to focus on what I don't have, but focus on those things already in my life.

Take care all. Talk to you soon.

To camp is to live

So, how have you been? Me? Oh, I don't know. Things are crazy as always. The dog insists on defending our home, even when there is no one out there. The kids continue to act like the irrational, completely whimsical creatures they are, and my husband is trying to make sense of all of us women-folk and our strange and mysterious ways.

I am trying to figure out how to go camping with no camper, no boat, and no ability to sleep on the ground anymore with my old bones. Also, how do you find a tent site on a whim? In the old days, you just went somewhere and set up a tent. Now you have to use campgrounds and make advance reservations.

I am depressed about the whole ordeal. The worst thing is not having the boat anymore. Losing that was like losing a member of the family.

Ah, well. If my kids can sleep on the ground, so can I. I just need to find a place we can go that is legal, enjoyable, and we can drop in at the last minute. And no, I don't mean the Fred Meyer parking lot.

Big Brother

Facebook is the new Big Brother. Watching. Violating your privacy. Making money. Yep, the new Big Brother is watching you. I think it should be called FaceBro.

Know your Labs

Looking for trouble

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy.
- Ernest Benn