The upside of being “hyper-sensitive” is i can sit in a new shirt and shorts made of cotton cloth and discern the difference of the hated sweat containment of oil-based polyester cloth from the welcome respiration of cotton fiber - there’s a paradox and a story there somewhere, how these stupid motherfuckers could enslave a people to pick a natural fiber most resilient and useful to our species, unless you’re a renegade like me who finds wisdom in the resurrection of the good name of sister hemp, in which case we find a win-win combination that must be terrifying to the pissants of profit watching their nazi-petro dollars plummet from a shrinking market demand that is likely too scary for their pea brain imaginations to comprehend - sort of like the _rump family cooling their heels in Rikers Island · don’t laugh, as Ricky Rivera so sagely opined, however obtusely observed, “it’s gonna happen.”
“Mean people suck” - A. Nonymous · My challenge as an aging dying man is to reconcile my history with the facts. When at fifteen years of age and ma well into one of her liquored states turned to her as much drunken friend to remark smirking at me, “how do you communicate with something that has fangs” - funny to her at the time and i’m sure her friend, my soon-to-be aunt-in-law tittering her assent, but to me now just another revolting truth in my march toward forgiveness for cruelties not of my own making. The challenge remains, though - what part of that hazy history is mine own to possess; what part of me is still capable and willing to wound another sensitive human being in the oft brutal exchange of “terms of endearment”?
I don’t know; what i am certain of is until we conjoin with the painful lessons of brother Thich Nhat Hanh; sister Pema Chodron and father Dalai Lama about how to release our hold on causing pain to those we love - our world remains in jeopardy · a threat we are barely able to perceive through the mismanagement of reality by the greedy agents of profit, but a threat that grows daily in our censored objections to the injustice each of us knows and is reacting to, rather than acting upon. I remember the thrill of bare feet on green grass of a spring day with nothing but hours baseball in front of me - i liked it but not as much as my first kiss with a girl i hoped would feel the same about me as i felt about her. From there, it just seemed to cascade down the canyon of despair and disillusionment, only to find myself in the whirlpool of responsibility with not a soul on the planet to blame but myself.
Tell me again how the indigenous savages missed it and are worthy of the sacrilegious excavation of so many of their holy sites for the desecration by racist invaders and to suffer the highest murder rates by police in the free world (if there ever was a free world), when one of the greater native icons is master coyote “the joker¿” What is worthy of note, is the resolutely peaceful nature of Native American Resistance in this the most violent and oppressive of onslaughts they have faced in their years of foreign invasion. What is the key to understanding the resolute nobility of a people capable of choking the “Black Snake” and seizing the battlefield initiative once again from “Wasichu”¿ answer this question and we as a species may find a path out from under the miasma of “doubt” - an item that is the only tangible product from the interminable shopping list the ruling class can offer for existential purpose.
I do not ask to be accepted back into the tribe, because for all my sincerity and loving embrace of 1st nation logic - i am wounded and am dying from an infection to the core by the greed and shame of my fore bearers. I accept this responsibility without reservation and pray my hope to blunt the karma of my people be answered with forgiveness and forbearance by those my culture has transgressed: black, yellow, red, brown people worldwide and historically. I am not your enemy and have found it necessary to reflect back to you what is often viable and realistic rage for injustice; however i am compelled by my own personal growth to resist personal attacks on me for deeds i have not done - the same as i must assume responsibility for my own anathema toward those who have done me no wrong but by assumptions of their own conceit may feel entitled to fury toward me by the language of others who know me not at all, but speak with great authority about what i am - like my family whom i know longer recognize but wish well as i would you, if i knew you better.
jts 26/09/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
reprinted with permission - all rights reserved
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