“From now until further notice, you’re no longer allowed to tell me how YOU feel.” A gentle and wonderful woman (and friend) told me he said to her.
The words were never said to me verbatim…but their substance was. I know how it feels to be seen as “less than” through the eyes of a man you think you love, you live with, you dream of a future with.
I told her what I had learned what feels like long ago but only hours sometimes “now, you must write how you feel.”
Today I realized that when I began writing again, after years of abuse and – that why I write and why so often it’s so personal is – I know what it feels like not be seen. But it’s more than me simply wanting to write how I feel now. I want the possibility for you, dear one to feel seen.
This is not to say I want you, dear reader to see me. What I want, what I strive to do is say “I see you.”
I hope at some point along the way I do that for you. That’s what my favorite writers do for me.
In honor of all those who embrace why without answer, and then focus on they will instead.
Those who claim we are destroying the earth Once claimed there were people destroying their God.
Those who claim all religions are the source of ills Once claimed that all godless were the source of illness.
Beware the benevolent trends. They destroy the forrest before the medicines even get a chance to first grow.
Beware those who claim why the creations have become less bountiful – beware those who call you thief – that the gate was opened like a mugging – and the green stollen – denied now to you forever for the crime.
Beware of the word missused, reused or recycled. Beware of those who deny new language to invoke change. They drain the waters as they always have. Beware any who claim ownership of language.
Beware those who say beware.
Be aware of words used, the poetry of linguistics not the logic of the false critics and mystics.
Mind the gaps between age, ages and so called sages.
Not all explorers are courageous or wise. Experience is often wasted on the inexperienced.
Be bold enough to welcome the return of authority.
Beware the blamers for they are the victims of another age’s benevolence. Give them soulful pity. But no mercy.
Assume that not only the survivors survive. Beware the anointed victims.
Beware the music induced, not introduced and received in the slow dose of ordinary perception.
No one knows the mind, mindful or empathic – unless they know their own. Pay them no mind until you’ve learned your own.
No one can walk in anyone else’s shoes until they’ve walked in their own. Beware those who elevate empathy above kindness.
Beware those that says “silence always is golden” or “it speaks more than words can say” or “talk is best done slow;” for they never knew the unleavened word. They were the keepers of the grandest inquisitor’s tools too horrific to word – left to the world of the wordless.
Beware those that choose by committee.
Beware the children of Democracy.
Beware those left to create with only excuses made for creation and call that art.
Beware the time when musicians or games are heard and seen only in solitary boxes and not shared between people. Joy shouldn’t be contained or created with false friends. For that is a fest of famine obeying a vegetable law.
Beware those who value introversion more than solitude.
Beware the ones who long to be numb.
Beware those that say you must understand that you will not or never be understood.
Beware those who don’t have the conditions to suffer – for they will strip yours away and demand thanks for it.
Beware the ones who teach well, but were not taught well. For they don’t know the value in the safety they’ve shown you in self-reliance. They will never see their hands relocating the chains from themselves back onto you. Be aware. For they will betray the law of lessons.
Beware the promise of free love for it is the most costly of deceptions without
Even an offer made to partner Dyonisis with Apollo;
No manner of manners will save, no loving will ever serve, when everyone is free to choose slavery.
I’ve been working hard or hardly working on an idea and I’ve been mute too long.
So this is intended to get myself back into the groove (and discomfort) of the possibility of an audience, reader, listener thinker; I’m forcing myself to show you a glimpse of my process.
Getting a story told that really may be worth the telling is harder than I thought in ways I’d never considered…lucky me?
For that story – this is a piece / inspiration that has spurred the idea along since the beginning; the idea of a jacinth song. the idea of what a jacinth could be.
This is one of the early poems by e. e. cummings written during his years at Harvard somewhere between1911-16; never in a collection perhaps only ever read (certainly only ever published) until his death.
He was so very young when he wrote this and perhaps that’s part of what I love about it.
This poem is framed on my wall and I’ve recorded it as part of that story (I hope) I will one day share with you and will be a wonderful story.
Sharing this poem now?
Well, it now feels like I’m sharing a secret – one that even he didn’t find the nerve to do.
– The pen is mightier than the sword. – All’s fair in love and war. – The luck of the IrisH. – Make new friends, but keep the old. – Never a borrower or a lender be. – Blood is thicker than water. – Time heals all wounds.
True proverb: – The only guarantees are death and taxes.
My grandfather was Austra-Hungarian nobility. He was very rich. What did that mean?
He spoke 17 languages and consulted on cultural projects throughout the western world including the original Madison Square Garden.
His father built hospitals and schools for the blind, the first of which ever in Austria.
He bred Dalmatians to run alongside his horse and carriage and made them better and better for use for fire fighters’ carts safely getting quickly to the rescue.
He insisted education be continued and my mother speaks 9 languages.
He was a Hussar.
He was murdered in a gulag after being held captive for over 10 years for the crime of being a rich aristocrat.
Imagine alone the connections and ideas that can be made when you can communicate and read 17 languages.
The word aristocrat now implies egomania, selfish acquiring and soulless self centered motivations.
That’s a lie created by people who wanted to produce the fear of false oligarchies.
Carol VanBreyer’s DNA is in mine and I say this with some epigenetic need to caution some of you today…fear is the hottest ticket in town and the easiest to acquire. You’ll be surrounded by people you know and feel supported and safe as everyone nods knowingly and gratefully at those telling you who to fear. The seat is free of charge.
But you’ll never be able to get up again. That costs way too much.
Please consider this when talking about this election this year. Better to have no one to vote for than vote because you’re afraid.
The America my grandfather touched was made to be beyond and untouchable by such a thing as fear of one man. But the way that must happen is very delicate.
I trust you’ll understand. That’s why America is unlike any other place.