The first thing I ever ‘wanted to be when I grew up’ was a mother. The second was an actor.
By the time I was 15, ‘actor’ had edged past ‘mother’ to the top of the list, and I arranged my teenage life so I could perform in seven plays in four years.
I experienced no greater aliveness as an actor than when we, at the end of the show, waited in that silent gap for the audience’s response. Had what I, what we had done here, had what I was, in this part, had it reached people? …
I met another edgeworker man recently who was jacked up about playing in the crypto currency gameworld.
Upon meeting him and hearing about how he thinks it is different from the fiat system, how it builds community, I became somewhat frozen, numb and mentally-oriented. I was torn between wanting to call bullshit, and not wanting to argue. I just don’t buy it.
It’s taken a few days to notice how my mind keeps going back to to this exchange, and to different parts of the story of my life during which I witnessed men in similar modes and had this…
Dear Indigenous Neighbours,
I wanted to say, “Brothers and Sisters” where I said, “Neighbours,” but I was scared to be presumptive.
I am also scared not to presume that we share the same mother, the Earth and the same father, the Sun, the Sky.
I won’t presume to know how it is for you, how you see your relations. I won’t take up more of your time and attention with how it is for me, except to add that I would like to know how it is for you.
How it is, and how it’s been.
I am writing to…
When I was a highschool student I didn’t know what I wanted to be “when I grew up.”
When I became, unexpectedly, yet joyfully, a mother, I wanted to be a different kind of mother from the mothers I knew, so that my children might grow up KNOWING and BEING fully alive as themselves, no matter that the rest of the world threw at them.
I remember when I first noticed, during my eldest son’s first year, that I was NOT being that mother, the mother that I was so determined, so committed to being. …
…after two flat tires didn’t even hurt the camel’s back
YOU saw it. From inside me and from outside of me.
YOU saw, during the days or weeks before I discovered it, how two of my van’s tires became flat.
YOU saw me as I prepared to go out on the morning of the discovery, donning special weather-appropriate clothes, packing my village-adventure-survial-kit, writing my lists.
YOU saw me suddenly discover my tires were flat, and YOU saw as it became clear to me that using my van for ANY adventure was, for the forseeable future, OUT.
YOU know how sad…
A steaming mug of tea warms my hands as I sit in my front window in the morning. The closest star’s light is barely beginning to show in the eastern sky. I am up so early.
My view out the window is of the houses and cars of my street, and the trees, oh, the trees!
A question floats up in my mind, from an experiment I encountered* yesterday: What is the archetypal nature of the world?
Out the window, I survey this piece of world.
In this piece of world, the trees stand like sentinels, watching over boxy houses…
Modern Culture is currently comprised of an uncounted number of individuals on a shared path to self destruction. I noticed this first in my teens and had my first bout of illness caused by this realization. I began veering ever more remarkably off this path toward another path, a regenerative path, through my twenties. The illness relapsed many times during the decades since, costing me family, friendships and livelihood.
By now I have come to acknowledge that it is not I who am or was ever ill, though I had and still sometimes have symptoms of this illness.
There was something exquisitely touching for me, about this Christmas.
Once again, my holy~day was simple and quiet in ways not typical for most at Christmas time. Until this year.
During the last 30 years, due to poverty, due to taking the road less travelled, I have often been “alone” at Christmas, even when together with my four children, their three fathers, and numerous housemates in various iterations of granted and chosen family.
Poverty is an alienator for many during holidays, especially during Christmas, which has developed such strong commercial emphasis. …
Numb heroes have been busy saving the day in metaphoriacal and actual arenas for ages. But the glorification of the numb hero may be costing the human race our place on this Earth.
Why do I think this is true?
I think it is true because I have been the numb hero. I tried to save my marriage and my children, and I’ve been trying to save my friends and the planet. It almost killed me. I was numb to my feelings and emotions, and because I was numb to my feelings and emotions… I was missing things. Important things.
The woman I called “Guruji” from 1996 until… I dont quite know when, has died.
I wonder if she would want people to say that she has “passed.” That’s the term I remember her insisting on us using, rather than “died.” I remember feeling angry about the use of that term, though I can only clearly see that I felt that way, now. I felt angry because my dear father had died, (a few years before I encountered her), and the excruciating pain of his loss meant, for me, that it was NOT “passing” that he had done. Calling it…
Nicole is, among other things, a Top Keener on the “Help Gaia’s Risky Human Experiment Succeed” Team.