Saturday, April 30, 2005

The Philistine and Cowboy

Click here: N.Korea Says Bush Comments Show He Is a Philistine - Yahoo! News

1. His urgency over getting Bolton appointed (note the reference in the article re his going to the UN Security Council)
2. The buildup off the coast of Iran in recent weeks
3. Deliberately inciting Pyongyang

He's tanked in the polls, the press conference made it worse, 9/11 is coming to the foreground where it should have been all along AND the only solution for them is yet another "Pearl Harbor."

It's true that they can hit the West Coast.


God help us all.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Celebrate Earth Day

It seems it never really caught on, doesn't it? Valentine's Day is definitely bigger. St. Patrick's Day works for everyone, even if "O' " doesn't precede your surname. Try wishing a co-worker "Happy Earth Day" and see what kind of a strange look you get. No gift exchanges, no ribbons to wear - not even a bumper sticker as far as I can tell. I've never seen traffic halted or re-routed because of an Earth Day parade, have you? And even if you were so inclined as to pin a makeshift green ribbon onto your shirt, you run the risk of being labeled a leftist liberal or even worse, God forbid, a tree-hugger! Global warming? Surely it must be a myth and certainly, it will never affect us anyway...right??? That's eons away and by the time it really matters, "they'll" have probably figured out a way to pierce the CO2 bubble we oil gluttons cleverly called the "greenhouse effect" while tooling around town in our SUV's searching for a gas station charging 4.00/gal for a real bargain. By then, Earth Day won't even be a tiny italic reminder on a Day-Timer calendar.

I wonder how the president is celebrating today? Halliburton? Bechtel? GE? Raytheon? Do you think Kenny-boy will visit the White House tonight and belly-laughs over ANWR, his Clear Skies Act and abysmal environment policies will waft over the lawns as cigars are passed and some non-alcoholic champagne is sipped celebrating one more joke on the American people? On the world?

And how did you celebrate today?

From John Denver ~

Celebrate morning,
The cry of a loon on a lake in the night
the dreams that are born in the dawn’s early light
Celebrate morning

Celebrate living
The laughter that sings in the heart of a child
The freedom that flies at the call of the wild
Celebrate living,
Celebrate evening
The stars that appear in the loss of the sun
Whispering winds, “We are one, we are one”...

Celebrate earth Day, every day
Celebrate earth Day, every day
Celebrate land and sea
Celebrate you and me
Celebrate earth Day, every day
Celebrate land and sea
Celebrate you and me
Celebrate earth Day, every day, every day, every day.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Eve of Destruction

Eve Of Destruction
By Barry McGuire, 1965

The eastern world it tis explodin',
violence flarin', bullets loadin',
you're old enough to kill but not for votin',
you don't believe in war, what's that gun you're totin',
and even the Jordan river has bodies floatin',
but you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Don't you understand, what I'm trying to say?
Can't you see the fear that I'm feeling today?
If the button is pushed, there's no running away,
There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,
take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,
but you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Yeah, my blood's so mad, feels like coagulatin',
I'm sittin' here, just contemplatin',
I can't twist the truth, it knows no regulation,
handful of Senators don't pass legislation,
and marches alone can't bring integration,
when human respect is disintegratin',
this whole crazy world is just too frustratin',
and you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Think of all the hate there is in Red China!
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama!
Ah, you may leave here, for four days in space,
but when you return, it's the same old place,
the poundin' of the drums, the pride and disgrace,
you can bury your dead, but don't leave a trace,
hate your next-door-neighbor, but don't forget to say grace,
and you tell me over and over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

~P E A C E~

"There is nothing worse than gangrene of the soul."
Mike Malloy ~ 1/20/05

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Down the Rabbit Hole

Speak to me, Silent Spirit, walk with me, warm the cold of my heart with the fire of your breath as I seek you in the magic of my forest.

The luminescence of the moon two days past full deceptively kept one step ahead of her as though presciently mapping her path through the thicket of wildwood before her. She came here often at this hour, seeking solitary intercourse in communion with earth's tear basin lakes among timber tall. She gazed out beyond the horizon where sky and water became one and musingly wondered how flat was once considered the destination of what lay ahead. Such depth before her, where the answers could all be found. I cry unto thee, Sacred Spirit, ease my troubled soul; I implore you, hear my call.

But what were the questions? Were they still waiting to be asked? In uncharted territory, each discovery is new. Ensnaring her sandaled foot, a tangle of brush gave her pause; the captor wishing to obstruct her path. Tossing it with vengeance back to the place it belonged, she smiled mirthlessly within as she released herself from its bondage. Does one form of bondage merely replace another? A question now no longer unasked.

What was that she felt? A change in the wind? The flesh on her arms, though, was not raised in chill. Overtaking her often, this response was more from soul. She looked to the North and saw not a thing. Her senses on alert now, she gracefully moved ahead as the wind caught her skirt in billowing wisps, her shawl a sail to her skin.

The magical mysteriousness that accompanies these chills without cold instantly engaged her attention as she forever sought to understand their source. She accepted them; yes, even welcomed them now as so often they spoke precaution, premonition or validation. Vigilant to her surroundings, she swept the landscape with her keen sight, employing only the corporal senses for now. Nothing informed her of irregularity.

The beat of her heart quickened in response to the heightening of Awareness and for a moment, an element of fear passed through her cognition. Respecting it as always, she wrapped her shawl more tightly about her. Gentle Spirit, give me rest, quiet the cacophony pounding through my mind.

A few steps ahead lay an oasis of majestic trees and wild shrubbery that formed a cove of unexpected privacy. As she approached for the rest she would take within hidden sanctuary, once again her flesh announced a reason for caution.
With a step misplaced as she paused to tighten her shawl about her, she lost her footing and found herself tumbling, turning, twisting, deeper into a cave unknown to her before. O, Saving Spirit, hasten to my aide...deliver me from my fear...rescue me from this paradise lost to my eyes behold the serpent of my innermost dread..speak to me now..leave me not for dead...what lies behind this wall before me, beckoning me to see?

Cerberus Snake, eyes of fire,
guarding, beckoning forth my heart’s desire.
Chill my bones, flesh my fear.
Forbidden secrets draw me near.
Why and how have I stumbled here?

Magical chamber made manifest,
I stand alone, a solitary guest.
Veil parted between dualed dimensions
Fills my soul with apprehension.
O, Magick Wall of transient tension.

O, Portal of pain, doorway changing face
Invite me through your loving embrace.

My soul births through my heart once torn.
My eyes behold her sparkling form..
Dance divine, she thus creates
Within her myst she holds my fate.
O Lady Light, she undulates.

Sun-birthed Moon, Midnight’s Noon
Heal me with your saving grace
Within this hallowed sacred place wrap me in thy love’s cocoon.

Vestal Virgin, sing to me.
Hear my prayer I offer thee.
Unclothe to me thy mysteries.

Creature unrevealed to me.
Veiled in Holy Mystery.
Sing to me so I might hear
Thy voice unspoken to my ears.
Let me see through blood-stained tears.

Relentless pounding of my heart,
Spoke she through lips that ne’er did part.
Oracle Fair, Maiden Divine,
Give to me a heavenly sign.
DonaCreiTun, whispered softly she, “You’re Mine.”

Sun-birthed Moon, Midnight’s Noon
Heal me with your saving grace
Within this hallowed, sacred place, wrap me in thy love’s cocoon

“Answers here you’ve come to find,
Searching far for Reason’s rhyme.
Locked within your Spiritmind.”

“Look to me, my Child of Love,
Find me in the stars above.
Gentle moonrays, sun’s caress,
Free your soul from Death’s Darkness.
See me in all you possess.”

Release me, now, Celestial Snake.
From my Darkness I awake.
Guardian of my ecstasy, bless my dream discovery....DonaCreiTun

It's About Time

There’s a full moon over India and Gandhi lives again
Who’s to say you have to lose for someone else to win
In the eyes of all the people the look is much the same
For the first is just the last one when you play a deadly game

It’s about time we realize it we’re all in this together
It’s about time we find out it’s all of us or none
It’s about time we recognize it these changes in the weather
It’s about time, it’s about changes and it’s about time

There’s a light in the Vatican window for all the world to see
And a voice cries in the wilderness and sometimes he speaks for me
I suppose I love him most of all when he kneels to kiss the land
With his lips upon our Mother’s breast he makes his strongest stand

It’s about time we start to see it the Earth is our only home
It’s about time we start to face it we can’t make it here all alone
It’s about time we start to listen to the voices in the wind
It’s about time, it’s about changes and it’s about time

There’s a man who is my brother, I just don’t know his name
But I know his home and family because I know we feel the same
And it hurts me when he’s hungry and when his children cry
I too am a father and that little one is mine

It’s about time we begin to turn the world around
It’s about time we start to make it the dream we’ve always known
It’s about time we start to live the family of man
It’s about time, it’s about changes and it’s about time
It’s about peace and it’s about plenty and it’s about time
It’s about you and me together and it’s about time

Words and music ~ John Denver

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Death Defying; Death Denying: Must it be so?

Terminal illness is something all of us will encounter at one time or another in our lives, whether it be an issue for our loved ones, ourselves or as healthcare providers. Many people, dare I say more accurately, "most" people, feel uncomfortable around patients and family members who are anticipatorily grieving and oftentimes, that is because of our own fears and concerns about death and dying get in the way. Our own attitudes and beliefs can interfere in our coping and care giving capabilities if we don’t recognize and understand those fears and concerns. So important is this task and its results that many researchers of frameworks of growth and development culminate in the achievement of coming to terms with death to achieve true self-actualization.

Birth is a process we all experience; at least among those of us reading these words! The majority of human beings are born with others in attendance who are there to assist and care for not only the mother but for the child being born. So, too, are we there to assist and care for the patient who is dying and when we do so, we have an opportunity to participate in a very profound and meaningful experience.

Caring for the terminally ill is at the core essence of who we are as healthcare providers, as family, as a people; it allows us to afford the dying and families the utmost of empathy and compassion as we provide support, service and presence.

Though we all come from different life experiences and cultures, there is one thing we all have in common. That is our humanity. In caring for the terminally ill, one of the most important element of rendering care is to treat the dying always with the awareness of that commonality. If we do that, we will naturally be practicing the golden rule of care-giving: treat others as we wish to be treated ourselves.

The rewards of caring for the dying are vast and unique. For most, it is an unforgettable experience. Few situations in life provide us with a more profound sense of intimacy than to be included in the act of a loved one's or a patient’s dying. However, because it is so profound, it is important to make sure that you are caring for your own stress and upsets because if you don’t, you can easily become overwhelmed. Therefore, be sure that when you care for a terminally ill patient, that you are in close contact with your healthcare provider team and find ways to appropriately express yourself and discuss your concerns. In order to give care, whether it be for the terminal patient or the patient with asthma and arthritis, we must always find ways to replenish our own wells before they run dry.

It is often said that a society is measured and ultimately judged upon how it treats their poor and those of lesser circumstance. Though this is a stand alone truth in and of itself, I wonder if a more important measure might be how it is that society treats those engaged in the final act. Fear, lack of knowledge about the dying process, cultural values, media and beliefs about the afterlife all determine how those coping with terminal issues ultimately experience the process. When so many of the resources in this country alone are focused on the prolongation of life, which in and of itself is not a bad thing but a curious one indeed given the epidemic outbreak of compassionate Christianity, what tends to get lost in the living of it is the celebration of the final act of dying. The denial and inability of the Schindlers to face the death of their daughter perhaps may serve to stir others to give more thought to this critical issue and if we can, it could determine that one day, this society will be measured and judged gently, kindly. And I am one who would like to think that "Hope is (still) on the way."

In closing, I ask you to consider this one question.

We are all terminal, are we not?

The Lie Clock

A Senator died and went to heaven. As he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.

He asked, "What are all those clocks?"

St. Peter answered, "Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie, the hands on your clock will move. We use it to judge potential residents."

"Oh," said the Senator, "who's clock is that?"

"That's Mother Teresa's. The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie."

The Senator said, "Whose clock is that?"

"That's George Washington's clock. The hands have only moved once, telling us that George Washington only told one lie in his entire life, you know that cherry-tree thing."

The Senator said, "Well, whose clock is that?"

"That's Abraham Lincoln's clock. The hands have only moved twice, telling us that Honest Abe only told two lies in his entire life."

"Here's another one with just one lie...whose clock is that?" asked the Senator once more.

"Oh, well that's Bill Clinton's clock. He told a big one but one that all men would tell if cheating on their wives."

The Senator pondered this for a moment, then asked, "Where's George Bush's clock?"

St. Peter replied, "It's in Jesus' office. He's using it as a ceiling fan.

For This We Have Come...

So, dear one, all of a sudden, without warning, you find yourself in a place that seems foreign to you..yet, at the same time, somehow familiar. Most likely, you've had glimpses of this before, experiences that have penetrated your heart and spirit in ways you may not have been able to provide the luxury of introspection to, whether it be because it was necessary for you to live in the moment or to deal with many other influencing factors that prevented you from being able to make some level of sense of it all.

We arrive here for various reasons that I've found are mostly a result of an encounter, a crisis, a profound experience and even sometimes for nothing that is immediately apparent. Does everyone get here? I am convinced the answer is no. Could they? I am convinced the answer is yes.

Why don't they, you might wonder. I believe this is because most humans it seems, do not fully recognize, embrace or understand that one of the fundamental laws of spirit is the awareness that everything, everything we do, everything we live, Everything we experience is governed by Free Will. Simple as it sounds, difficult it is...Consider how the majority of this country alone looks for blame when "bad" things happen to's someone else's fault..and when that provides no answers, then it must be because God willed it or somehow it's His/Her/It's fault. Most rarely take it beyond that. Culture and upbringing and other complicated influences and factors determine this system of belief and as such, it's really understandable that few appear in this world as "masters"...i.e. Mother Teresa, Buddha, Jesus, Bucky, Dalai Lama, al. Yet, fame is not a requirement because the masters walk among us. When you explore their lives and others like them, you will discover common themes, common messages, keys perhaps, to open the door to what it means to be able to live in spirit.

You are in a place of discovery, wonder and awe...and I think with a sense that there lies much beauty ahead to be seen. Within you, you have the answers as to why this is happening now. What is “this” you ask but it is something only you can know. But, within this process of discovery, there comes one other awareness...and that is the awareness of pain. Pain, too, is a fundamental aspect of living this life, as fundamental as birth, the prick of the thorn of the rose, the fall of the leaf in a gentle autumn breeze. It is a necessary precipitator of growth and somehow, we have learned to experience pain as something to be rid of, something to scorn. As women, mothers, nurses, friends, sisters, however it is that we compartmentalize our own definition of self, we learn that we must find ways to take it away from those we care for, without ever once wondering whether the pain this person experiences is something that was governed by choices they have made on levels not seen or close to their own consciousness. Healing is hardly what we do.

So I think for now, as time allows, I will begin a written, hmmm..what could we call it? A guide? A Sharing? Or maybe simply the ramblings of a mad woman? :) Psychobabble run amok? That is for you to decide. But the buzzword is “Blog" so I'll capitulate to convention. Words are my toys, my favorite vehicle of expression; so, with that said, let us play.

Not I...

Not I

Sundown in Fallujah, City of Red;
Uncounted the wounded, unnamed the Dead.
Who will bear your grief?
"Not I" speaks the Commander-in-Chief.

Slaughtered humanity adorning this jewel;
A trophy perverted, so twisted, so cruel.
Who will cry for you?
"Not I," croaks the voice of the Ancient Old Fool.

Black gold running crimson in a river of tears,
Applause from the Moral, approval and cheers.
Who bears this blame, O Thou Anointed One?
"Not I," smirks the Sacrileged, Fortunate Son.

Hell's holy fires burn deep through the night;
The Red, White and Blue in all of Her might.
Who will make you whole again when all your tears have been shed?
"Not I" laughs the Murderer, "Humpty Dumpty is Dead."

Your flowers now wilted, your candy spoilt rotten;
Cheer-up you poor fools, you'll soon be forgotten.
"But who speaks for me?" baby Insurgents' cries plead;
"Not I" speaks the Serpent, cloaked in Power and Greed.

Your country felled down by Liberty's Lies;
We laughed and we danced and ate Freedom Fries.
Who pays the price? Retribution is due.
Is it Allah or Jesus, tell me, who'll redeem you?
Not I.

Dedicated to Elsie, who has cried with me.