We are all reeling after the January 20th inauguration. It happens to be my birthday! I celebrated with my kids and spoke with the other ones. I rejoiced that I have 3 adult children, two in their 40’s and one in her late 30’s, doing extremely well in their lives with loved and loving significant others, homes and jobs they adore and lives that reflect some measure of maturity and accomplishment. I can think of no other greater birthday present. My oldest with my son-in-law took me out to eat at a local neighborhood favorite place, we talked and shared with 2 of their friends who are also friends of mine, and they gave me a bag of wonderful goodies that will brighten my life and my home. Hugs and kisses all round.
Still, the pall of the last year culminating with the election of what I describe as a mentally ill clown with serious ability to create great damage, has hung over me and everyone else like a cloud. Today’s woman’s rallies, (with supportive men as well, of course) stretched across the globe. Here in Chicago we had over a quarter million people downtown–they clogged the entire downtown area and forced them to cancel the rally. It was just too many people. The point was made. We aren’t going to take this lying down! We’ve put that pussy snatcher on notice!
Yet…yet…I am still depressed about it all. The immediate signing to rescind Obama care is a warning bell that is clanging much louder than I would like. It is the introduction to a season when the needs and requirements of the hard-pressed, hard working middle class and poor will be ignored and spit on. When the “entitlements” which are the social contract put into place by FDR so many years ago will be wiped out. When many will die because they cannot receive the health care they need, even though we live in a country where our doctors and health care professionals, our hospitals and our diagnostic and treatment tools are the best in the world. The outrage and the despair walk side by side–I careen from one to the other, but ultimately I find myself in despair. At my age, 68, I am not about to rush out and get angry in the streets. I avoid crowds as an introspective writer. I’ve found the Chicago political scene crazed, frustrating and cruel. So what to do? Take pen to paper, it seems and begin doing my blog once again, because, as my mother once told me as a child, “the pen is mightier than the sword.”
And so it is.
I’ve been grappling with this issue my entire life, although as a child I did not have the words to express what I felt. After 45 years of studying astrology and many years as a Buddhist and meditator I have come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as “free will.” If we break those individual words down I realize that nothing is “free” without chords to the past and connections to the potential future. “Will?” what is that? To me a capitalist construct. It is a fantasy that puts the population into two separate camps: those who appear to enact their “will” and those, who for whatever reasons (I call it Karma or even evolvement!) cannot enact what everyone says is “free will.” They’ve got to do the jobs nobody wants to do, they’ve got to live in the digs no one sees as fit. They’ve got to struggle. Jesus said “the poor will always be with us.” This was not a superficial dismissal, this was a deep understanding of the karma of life. If our species lasts long enough to evolve, perhaps we will find a way to enact equal distribution of goods and services, but the tribal breakdown is too big and the smaller factions have now grown too violent.
The more charts I study over the decades and decades of astrological study the more I understand that we write our charts before we come into life, and that blueprint, that map of life, has specific requirements based on accumulative karma and many lives. In addition, though many doors may be open upon birth and open in the course of a life, many so-called other doors are simply not going to open! This is not punishment, this is learning, this is growth; this is pressure on the coal to produce the diamond.
In another society, culture and world, perhaps, one that is not based on money and materialism as the fantasy of what power is, those who are intuitive empaths would have opportunities galore while those that are good are the exchange of filthy lucre would be relegated to low status, boring jobs! That’s my revenge fantasy. It’s not true really. We all get what we need and honestly, what we deserve. If you don’t like what you see in your life, changing your thoughts (another bullshit ballyhoo meant to shame us all into submission) won’t do a damn thing!
And talking of “changing your thoughts..” well, I prefer to look upon it as watching the passing parade. Our thoughts are just what the busy brain does. We do not have to attach to any one thought. That’s the beauty of meditation.
The best antidote to unhappiness is gratitude, forgiveness and love. That’s it.
Try it. Today.
https://storyteller.exposure.co/?embed=true<br>Created with <a href=”https://exposure.co” style=”text-transform:uppercase”>Exposure</a>
This is a Television series. The Pilot and Episode One are available here. My target audience is 20-70 and up. I am appealing to those who liked The Sopranos, The Wire and Deadwood. Producers interested can contact me here.
The matter won’t matter much anymore
tomorrow or the day after or the after
of the day that afterwards seemed to matter
yet the matter was forgotten or dreamt of
or thought somewhere back where the
Dancing out across the floor
I saw you go– beautiful, manly
lithe–like a dancer somewhere
but not quite.
Who were you then?
Haven’t seen you in forty years.
Has it been that long?
I must meet somebody for whom
the going is strong and lit by lamps
of understanding tears that cry
in a primary way that two faces
someone to love me more than
you or you or you or you you you
the matter of the matter that won’t
even trickle down to my awareness
that matter doesn’t really matter anymore.