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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: love

Jennifer’s Invitation

22 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, story

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

assertiveness, birthday, fiction, gift, grade school, life, love, party, relationships, short story, shy, shyness, story

sakura tree

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When I grew up in Northeastern Ohio, my birthday came in the spring —  real spring. This business about three months of spring is absurd. In Ohio, spring lasts about three weeks — the time from the first onion grass, crocuses, and daffodils shoot green through bare black dirt, through the greening of the willow switches, the white exploding dogwoods and cherry blossoms, till at last, every tree’s gold and red has turned dark green — that takes three weeks. And, square in the middle of nature’s renewal comes my birthday. At the age of nine — now more than sixty-five years ago — it seemed so lucky — yet, so right that this my birthday fell in the springtime! Perfect.

The only thing more perfect would be having Jennifer come to my birthday party. Jennifer! Her family, Gunnerson, was from Scandinavia and she looked it. Long, light blond hair, deep sky blue eyes, pale white skin. Best of all, she liked me — kind of. I lived nearly a world away from her — three blocks — but luckily she lived on the way to David Hill Elementary School so I could walk part-way to school with her. We could continue up residential Davies Street, littered with maple-seed helicopters, or cut over to Archwood. Urbane Archwood Street held the branch public library and even a filling station.

fuel dispenser

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Mom had promised me a party this birthday and I could invite whoever I wanted. Or, so she said. Actually, her friend from the bridge club had two daughters that I definitely did not want to come to my party, but my mother, of all things, had promised that they could come. Really! Imagine! I never told her she had to invite Jennifer’s mother to her bridge club! Actually, it wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I didn’t think of it at the time.

No matter, so long as I could get Jennifer to my party. The tricky part was — how to get her there. Of course, you might think: “Well, hey, why not ask her?”

You might think that if you were born in New York or California or have forgotten what it’s like to be a nine year old boy totally overwhelmed by the goddess beauty of a nine year old girl. No, just walking up and asking her was definitely not an option.

woman in white sleeveless dress near green plants

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Instead, I hit on a brilliant idea, bound to succeed. I made a newspaper. It had three or four articles on the front page and three or four more articles on the back page. It only took me one week-end to make. And there, right on the back of page two, in the lower right hand corner was the story of my upcoming birthday party, complete with a list of invitees. That list included Jennifer!

Now, for part two of my foolproof plan! The very next day, I contrived to walk home from school in front of Jennifer. I slowed down till she was only twenty paces behind me and “accidentally” dropped my newspaper. I continued to walk, but held my breath, heart racing. Soon, I heard the soft, bell-tones of her voice call out that I had dropped my paper. Yes! She handed it to me. I dully muttered “thanks,” as I stared into those infinite blue eyes for a clue.

Nothing.

beautiful beauty blond blur

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Hadn’t she read it? Hadn’t she seen her name right there on page two? Was she blind, and I didn’t know?

I scurried on ahead. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed. I dropped my paper again. Again, I heard her call out my name! She had seen me drop the paper. I waited for her to catch up with me. She handed me the paper. I swallowed hard. I looked in her eyes. She looked at me. I said, “Well…did you read it?”

“Oh, no!” she said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh,” I said, and turned, crimson glowing hot on my cheeks.

I thought about dropping my paper a third time, but what was the point? She took it as an invasion of privacy to read my private paper. I’d have to come up with something else.

I did.

I got pneumonia and the party was canceled. I did get a record and a book as presents from my mother’s friend’s two daughters but I didn’t read the book or listen to the record. It wouldn’t be … right.

The next year, my parents moved to a new house and a new school district and I never saw Jennifer again. Except in dreams. Where her blond hair is still blond and her young smooth skin is still flawless. And, spring — spring lasts forever.

closeup photo of pink petaled flower tree

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration 

Wonder, Wonder, Who Kept the Wonder?

08 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

America, fiction, life, love, parable, romance, story, truth, USA

woman in black jumper riding on purple component

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“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you a wonder from the farthest corner of the world: a being that is half frog, half man!” shouted Carnival Barker.

“Whoa! Now, that’s weird, isn’t it, Denise?” said Boy.
“Weird, all right. But, kinda … wonderful in way too,” said Girl.

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“Thanks for a wonderful evening,” said Girl.
“So? Maybe we can go out again some time?” asked Boy, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

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“You look just wonderful in that dress!” exclaimed Boy.
“Thanks!” blushed Girl, as they spun through other the dancers.”

people dancing on dance floor

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“I wonder how I ever got lucky enough to meet you,” said Lover.
“Oh, that ring! Wonderful! Of course, I’ll marry you, silly,” said Beloved.

photo of engagement ring

Photo by TranStudios Photography & Video on Pexels.com

“Listen, darling, they’re playing our song!” laughed Woman.
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar, It’s a bright and shining star,
Like our love, it’s Wunderbar!” sang the record.

photo of mountain under starry night sky

Photo by Marco Milanesi on Pexels.com

“You’ll wonder where the yellow went…
When you brush your teeth with Pepsodent,” promised Announcer.
“Turn off the TV. I’m trying to sleep!” mumbled Wife.

woman wearing crop top standing near wire fence

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“Sometimes, I wonder where you ever learned to drive,” muttered Wife.
“Just shut up and let me drive,” said Husband.
“You’re going too fast,” complained Wife.

action asphalt automobile automotive

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“Hey, Charley! Ain’t these great burgers? Hmm. Wonder what that siren’s all about.
Comin’ right by the place. I just wonder,” said Steve, sipping his Bud.

Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
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Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com

“Jeez!” The sheriff shook his head. “They must’ve been doin’ eighty when they hit that guardrail. Wonder what the heck happened. There were plenty of signs posted about the danger ahead.”

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“Someone must have fallen asleep at the wheel, I guess,” offered Deputy,
“Happens all the time. Don’t it?”

“Indeed it does,” answered sheriff. “Indeed it does.”

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Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com
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Author Page on Amazon

Index to Essays on America 

Trumpism is a New Religion

Peace

07 Saturday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

ecology, environment, green, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, truth, war

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All the guns are silent now;
Landmines, all defused, exhumed.
Warships, mothballed; warplanes, scuttled;
Missiles, bombs, and tanks, entombed. 

Across the world, hands are held
And faces face the clearing sky
In silent prayer, in wonderment.
No-one quite remembers why 

It once seemed great to shoot to kill.
No-one gets that deadly thrill.
No-one cares to take that hill.
No-one wishes others ill. 

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Instead, the people turn their mind
Inside to see what they can find
Of ignorance within their skin
And mine their souls to conquer sin. 

No-one throws the stones at others;
Hands are used to help instead;
Someone speaks and someone listens;
Around the world, each kid is fed. 

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Slowly now we heal the earth;
Slowly now we heal our soul;
Surely now we tend our hearth;
Finally now we have a goal 

Worthy of humanity:
Not to overcome each other —
We work together to save our Mother,
And never wake those Dogs of War. 

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essay on Peace, War, and Greed.

Fire and Ice

27 Thursday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, story, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

empathy, environment, fable, fire, greed, hate, ice, life, love, myth, story

orange flame

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Fire: “What are you doing here? Fool. I’m god on earth now. You’re neither wanted nor needed. It’s over.”

Ice: “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Fire: “Bah. In war, it is I who kills. Flame-throwers, the gunpowder propelling bullets, bombs, and best of all, but rarely used, atomic fire. Oh, it warms my heart to see all that death and destruction.”

Ice: “Yes, but I am your best partner, though you know it not.”

ice formation

Photo by Simon Matzinger on Pexels.com

Fire: “You? Hah. Okay, I grant you, frostbite and cold have destroyed the bodies of many. Napolean and Hitler and Lord knows who else’s armies. But still.”

Ice: “No, you’re foolish and rambling as ever. I’m not talking about how I can help you kill. I’m talking about how I prepare the ground for you. Make people not care. Encourage the turning of a cold shoulder, a blind eye. Without me, people might never turn to you. Without me, how could they contemplate intentionally ignoring the truth? How could they embrace the litany of lies that lead to war? Who would willingly kill others if they clearly saw how useless and cruel it all was?”

Fire: “Yeah, yeah. I doubt it. Fire begets fire. Hate begets hate. What does your little chill of indifference have to do with it? Be gone or I’ll melt you to water. Boil you to steam.”

Ice: “Perhaps. But I might douse you to smoldering embers. I suggest you think about it. We can work as partners. Each making the other stronger. Actually, we have been partnering, but I’ve never gotten the credit I deserve! You’ve ignored me too long.”

men s black and white checkered shirt

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Fire: “Hah! Not nearly so much as you have ignored me! You’re useless without me!”

Ice: “Fine, if that’s the way you feel, then this is goodbye! Forever.”

Humanity decided to open its heart; embrace empathy; dismiss the lies of “other” and instead loved everyone as sister and brother. Fire shook his coronal locks in disdain and slunk off to reinvigorate himself in the core of a distant star.

Ice regained his rightful throne at the poles of the spinning emerald and sapphire planet. He abandoned the heart of humanity. Unbridled greed became nothing but the shadowy memory of a bad drug trip or a recurring nightmare — still scary to contemplate, but powerless to destroy the trajectory of life’s grand and glorious growth.

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 


Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Race, Place, Space, Face

26 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

love, peace, poem, poetry, race, racism, time

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Space

Allowed the growth of Race.

Race is all about crossing Space
In the shortest Time.

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To save Face,
Many of one Race
Insist they own Space;
Want their own Place.

To win Face,
Someone might fake the Time
It took to cross a Space
And claim a Place
On the winner’s stand and Time,
Their grand Smile
For awhile, so in Style.

Style is a sign of Race,
Of Place,
What kind of Face
Do you want to Grace
What comes into and on your Place?
Your Face?
Your Grace?

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Is there any kind of Reason or Rhyme
To the Time
That we spend trying to Smile —
Trying to use Style
To win Face over Face,
If it means that Life
Is Rife with Strife?

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If there were more Time
And we listened for the Rhyme
Would we finally See
Eternity?
Infinity?
The ultimate futility
Of Racing Race over Race,
Face over Face?

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How Odd of God
To give us Life
And then program us to a Life of Strife.
Perhaps the Miller’s Wife
Was right all Along —
The Strong
And stupid “Might Makes Right”
Is just another way of saying: “Fight Fakes Sight.”
For if we could truly See
The Space
The Time
That separates you and Me —

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Is nothing but illusion and a sick Joke
Not worth the Choke
Of atomic Fire
Ruining Desire
Forever and forevermore
(It isn’t worth the bleeding sore).

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We could reach our hands Out
Across the Space
And Shout:

“Race
Has gone! We’ve won, we all shall Live!
Place?
We do not care; we all shall Give:
Love to our common planet, our Space.
Love to our common people, our Race.
Love each moment of our common Time,
Echo, echo each to each our common rhyme.
Our common rhyme.”

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I think, it’s about Time.
Let’s save this Place!
Let’s forget Race.
Face it, Face
Is a Race that can’t be won;
We’re already one.
We are already One.

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We can pull and we can Push;
We can blow ourselves to Mush —
But the fact remains that we are One
So whoever wins hasn’t truly Won.
They are only has-been nth Place.
We are all the Human Race,
And we all share this little Space.

Listen to the echo of our common Rhyme
Let’s use Love — Love to fill our common Time.

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———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Serious Fun and Games

25 Tuesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

codes, Design, games, greed, legend, life, love, myth, relationships, Veritas

woman holding white plumeria flower

Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift watched the small party leave and chewed the inside of his lips. Though he understood the “rationale” that Many Paths had given for the composition of the search party, he suspected that her real reason for leaving him out was more personal. She wanted to keep Tu-Swift close at hand. True enough, his knee still didn’t act quite right. He would walk along just fine for a time and then, he would just slightly misjudge the ground and a rock might slide a little to one side or the other and his knee would suddenly “give out.” Riding wasn’t much better. Although he was now second only to Jaccim in skill, he couldn’t ride for long. Tu-Swift wanted to be among those who first encountered the Veritas beyond the twin peaks. He had dreamed of being there when she was reunited. What, he wondered, if she never returned here? He stared at the long and beautiful ebony hair of Cat Eyes and remembered how it had pleasurably whipped his face on that wild flume ride. She turned back and grinned at him; waved; he could see the sunlight making a kind of dark rainbow in her hair. He waved back. Tu-Swift hadn’t noticed Sooz walk up behind him so that when she spoke it startled him. 

“You like her, don’t you?” 

“What?! Oh, Sooz, sorry. I … well, yes. I mean, don’t you?” 

Sooz smiled with her mouth but her eyes remained tight. “Oh, yes, she’s quite smart. It’s been fun working with her — and you — to better understand that game she brought with her from the ROI. Want to play?”

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Indeed, many of the Veritas had made some contribution to understanding the game, but Cat Eyes had been crucial in understanding. True enough, thought Tu-Swift, she was smart, but mainly, she had helped the most because she had seen the game played. Although, as a slave, they had never asked her to participate in the giant settlement of the Z-Lotz, she had in the last few weeks, under the direction of Many Paths, been able to calm her mind, shut her eyes, and systematically “revisit” memories of watching the game played. She had not only seen in her mind’s eye what the throws and moves were; she could also recall what had been said and note the reactions on people’s faces. Playing the game proved to be fun for those Veritas patient enough to learn it including Tu-Swift and Sooz. And playing the game improved the speed with which they could decode the characters written on the many leaves that Eagle Eyes and Lion Tamer had returned with. 

“I would like to play with you, Sssooz. How about another game instead?” 

Sooz blushed. Tu-Swift and Sooz had been working on a secret code for communicating between the two of them. They said the same word, but in different ways. They would change how long they held on to one of the sounds that nature had long ago given the Veritas and that variation would change the meaning. The also said the words with a slightly different tone structure. They had worked together for several weeks on a kind of magic trick and were about to perform it in front of Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives. Tu-Swift and Sooz had made a pact not to let anyone else in on the secret quite yet. If they could pull off the trick in front of those two — and Eagle Eyes — then, they would reveal it to everyone. 

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Tu-Swift believed this could prove useful as one of the new weapons of the Veritas. Many Paths had asked Tu-Swift to lead an effort to develop weapons that could be used without anyone noticing, including, if it came to that, the Z-Lotz who might try to kill or capture all of the Veritas. Tu-Swift had not wanted to contemplate being captured again, and the idea that all of the Veritas might be enslaved was horrendous. And yet, he could see the wisdom of preparation for such an eventuality. He reckoned that if he and Sooz could fool Eagle Eyes, Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives, they would be able to communicate secretly even if the worst came to be. 

Tu-Swift pulled a piece of birchbark from inside his tunic, walked over to a nearby charred log and broke off a small piece of charcoal. He carefully wrote a few strokes on the birch bark and handed it to Sooz. She read aloud, “Kiss me.”  

close up photo of woman s face

Photo by Charry Jin on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift leaned over and whispered, “If you insist.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. It felt good. He wanted to write her some more when a small and very familiar voice called his name. 

“Hi Tu-Swift! Are you two playing a game? Can I join?” 

It was Day-Nah. Day-Nah was gradually becoming more friendly with all of the Veritas but  still felt most comfortable when he was with Tu-Swift. Usually, Tu-Swift enjoyed his company but he scrunched his face up at the current interruption. I will have other opportunities, I suppose, thought Tu-Swift. He glanced at Sooz who noted the chagrin on the visage of Tu-Swift and chuckled. She smiled at Dah-Nah and said aloud, “Ssssure, Day-Nah, we wouldddd love to have you join in our reading game.” She winked at Tu-Swift with an eye that was hidden from Day-Nah. 

Despite the momentary disappointment, Tu-Swift had to smile at her hidden message which promised much more later. He looked at Day-Nah and smiled at him as well. “We’re practicing making marks and saying them. Here. You put some marks down. Let’s see whether we can say what you meant.” Tu-Swift gently took the birchbark from Sooz, stroking her hand as he did so and surreptitiously smudging what he had just written. He handed the birchbark and piece of charcoal to Day-Nah. He had expected Day-Nah to put down one word. Instead, Day-Nah was making a whole forest of marks. At last he handed the birch bark back to Tu-Swift. 

Tu-Swift shifted position so that he now saw shoulder to shoulder with Sooz. Together they looked and read aloud. “?We go? ?See the whole collection? ?Again?” Tu-Swift sighed and glanced at Sooz. She made the slightest nod. They stood and walked across the cleaning and over to one of the many storerooms of the Veritas. Many Paths had asked for the table acorn-smashing table to be cleared. Several stumps already provide sitting. In the early spring, this table was used for mashing acorns that had been softened and de-bittered over-winter in the swamp. For now, people of the Veritas at various times came in and practiced decoding the marks. Everyone had been instructed to be very careful not to harm the delicate leaves of bark.  

It took a moment for the trio to become adjusted to the dim light. Day-Nah, the youngest, had adjusted the most quickly. He took the first leaf and stared at it. It seemed laid out differently from all the others. This first leaf of thin bark had many large spaces in it while all the other leaves were largely filled from top to bottom. Only a few spaces popped up here and there. Day-Nah began to turn his head this way and that. 

Tu-Swift’s inner eye suddenly showed him that flash of the long dark rainbow hair of Cat Eyes and he sighed. He said aloud, “I hope our searchers are able to find our cousins — there is no map. Jaccim says he knows the way, but I think his horse may know the way better. You know, horses are pretty amazing Sooz. I hope you someday get to ride one. They are big, but there’s no need to be scared.” 

horse near trees

Photo by KML on Pexels.com

Day-Nah muttered, “Map?”  

Tu-Swift shook his head. “What map? They don’t have any map. We’re taking about horses now.” 

Day-Nah, who generally seemed quite attuned to Tu-Swift’s every move, ignored Tu-Swift. He furrowed his brow and said again, “Map?” 

Sooz said kindly, “What map are you talking about, Day-Nah?” 

Day-Nah lifted up the first leaf and said, “This map.” 

Tu-Swift’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not a map Day-Nah. It’s just the first leaf.” 

Day-Nah ignored them and put the first page up against a nearby pot so that it was nearly vertical at one end of the table. Then, he began arranging the leaves on the table. After about half of them were arranged on the table, Tu-Swift said, “Come Day-Nah, what is this nonsense. I thought we were going to practice. What are you doing?”

Day-Nah said again, “It’s a map.” He continued arranging the leaves carefully. “Now, go over to the door and tell me what you see.”

Tu-Swift sighed. “I won’t be able to see the marks from there. I mean, I will be able to see them but I won’t be able to tell which mark is which.” 

Day-Nah, said with some insistence in his voice, “Try it.” 

Tu-Swift sighed. He tried to be lenient with Day-Nah. As traumatic as it had been for he himself to have been stolen from his tribe, he imagined it had to be even more traumatic for Day-Nah. But now the kid was being annoying. He shook his head and walked over to the door. He stared at the leaves carefully laid out on the table. 

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“Are you happy now, Day-Nah, just as I suspected, I cannot decode a single one of those marks from here. I almost have them memorized but I cannot actually discern them. They are just … just … Turtle in the sky!!” 

Sooz looked at the wide-eyed expression on Tu-Swift’s face. “What are you talking about? Have you both gone crazy?”

Tu-Swift gestured frantically. “Come over here! Come over here, Sooz! Look!” 

Sooz dutifully stood though she shook her head and slowly walked over. “My eyesight’s not any better than yours, Tu-Swift. I don’t even think Eagle Eyes could…” 

And then Sooz saw it too. The small markings could not be discriminated from each other but when the leaves were arranged thus, larger characters stood out. Those characters could be made out. She said them aloud: 

“Life must balance. Freedom and discipline. Work for self and work for tribe. Work for self alone ended the world for Orange Man and then greed ended the world. Now, we rebuild.” 

Tu-Swift swallowed hard. That was the essence of the story contained in the pages. The Orange Man had destroyed a tribe — and himself. But — the world? Everyone knew that too much greed was very strong and very bad medicine. How did Day-Nah know this was a map? With a sudden inspiration, Tu-Swift opened the shutters of one of the storehouse windows and walked outside. He peered in at the leaves arranged on the table. Now, he could see yet another pattern of characters that stunned him into a long silence. 

“Love/Unity makes Life. Greed/Division makes Death.”

shirtless man sitting on a rock

Photo by Darren Lawrence on Pexels.com

—————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

A Suddenly Springing Something

22 Saturday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, family, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 31 Comments

Tags

cats, kittens, life, love, poem, poetry

adorable animal baby cat

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

I thought it was an apropos time to remind people of what really matters: life, love, truth, curiosity. This poem was from 2004. The cats bookending the poem are cousins to Jones and Sirius and taken at the approximate age when this poem was written.

A Sudden-
ly

Spring –
ing

Some –
thing!

Two Courageous
Ridiculous
Sputtering
Kitteny
Little
Furry
Balls of Hellfire!

Two Demanding
Loving
Roving
Fighting
Biting
Leaping
Back-bending
Over-arching
Maddeningly
Swaying
Pouncing
Little Furry Balls of
Hellfire!

Jones and Sirius:
Two Snooping
Into every
Teeny crevice
Nosing out
Empty cans
Empty wrappers
For every scrap
Of cheese whiff
Or oil drip
In the cracks of tin foil
Growling
Little Furry Ball
Of Hellfire!

A tag-team, dynamic duo;
One cave-black and one marmalade;
Skittering over my keyboard
Chasing the cursor on my screen
Grabbing at my sox, my belt,
Chasing my tying lace-tips
Scrabbling up my shins
Snapping at my pencil and my pen
Jackknifing dive without a when
Little Furry Balls of Hellfire!

Purring, sleeping, curled and cuddled
Into the crook of my arm
Warmth feeling warmth
I laugh inside, I smile inside
At my little furry furies
Who remind my mind
Of Gandhi and Goodness.

Ultimately, Love,
Love is Strong
And will outlast
The longest Wrong.

cute short fur black kitten with blue eyes

Photo by Lad Fury on Pexels.com

Here below are the real Jones and Sirius, but grown up. Jones, left, loved everyone and everything. He stayed curious & affectionate till the day he died. Sirius proved to be a very smart cat, but would brook no non-sense. He was the most difficult cat any of our vets ever had to deal with. Yet, he was affectionate with us and with Jones.

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A Profound & Utter Failure

11 Friday Oct 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

envy, ethics, evil, good, hate, jealousy, life, love, politics, survival, truth

A Profound and Utter Failure

For years I have puzzled about why someone would get into a state where they actively and wantonly worked toward the destruction of life itself. By “life” here, I don’t just refer to human life. I refer to the entire tree of life including all our fellow humans but also butterflies, trees, dolphins, and wolves. Everyone is actually part of that tree. So why should one part of the tree want to destroy the whole. 

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Let’s take a journey back in time to your childhood. If you go back far enough, I think you will find a time when you would be susceptible to hatching the following fairly evil plot. 

Let’s say that you and your friends decided on a really cool project — say to build a treehouse. Each of you was responsible for one major item. Your individual responsibility was to get a very long extension cord. You realized you had the easiest job and therefore you put it off the longest. As you returned each good-weather day after school to the site of the treehouse, the progress was obvious. And one day you arrived and it was finished. All your friends were up in the treehouse. They all waved to you and invited you up. One held up a transistor radio with a portable TV and shouted, “Bring the extension cord! We can watch TV! Any channel we want!” 

photo of man holding rope

Photo by Nishant Aneja on Pexels.com

But you didn’t have the extension cord. Now, of course, you probably just said, “Oh, darn! I forgot! I’m so sorry! I will go try to get one right now.” And, that would be that. You and your friends could have spent a summer or two enjoying that treehouse until you outgrew it and the weather made it unpleasantly moldy and unstable. 

Perhaps you can imagine a slightly different way of reacting. Instead of admitting you had forgotten, you instead reacted like this: “Well, why should you get to have fun up there while I have to go get an extension cord? A treehouse is stupid anyway. They’re unsafe! And once I tell your parents about it, they will forbid you to use it!” Can you imagine getting into a headspace, as a kid, where you would rather spoil the party than let anyone enjoy it if your own enjoyment was tarnished for any reason, including guilt? 

Or, imagine as a teenager that you and your friend both went to take the written test for a learner’s permit. You finished and failed with a score of 65. You watch your friend still working on the test. Do you want them to pass with a 75? 85? 100? Do you want them to fail? Personally, even as a teen, I would want them to succeed. However — I am very aware of a part of me that would like them to fail. Ironically, that part would have been wishing for my friend to fail more than for a random stranger to fail. Can you feel that too? 

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So, these are some trivial instances where an immature person might be tempted to act as though, if they can’t have what they want, then no-one should. 

Now imagine someone who felt themselves to be a profound and utter failure. Absolute. Utter. A fraud. A person with negative wealth who claimed to be rich. A person completely unable to do their job. A person who fails at relationships, at work, and has no real friends. 

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A person who nonetheless insists and screams and yells that they are perfect in all things and the best at everything. 

Imagine that they felt the only life that really matters is their own. 

Now imagine that they are about to die. 

Now imagine that they have to power to make others die with them. 

Many others. Many, many others. And not just human beings.

person holding black and green bird

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Such a person would have no affection for pets or for wild animals. 

Might such a person want to destroy the entire tree of life because they view themselves as a profound and utter failure?


Author Page on Amazon 

The Path not Taken

23 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

alternatives, consequences, love, myth, romance, story, truth, Veritas, war

Many Paths awoke smiling. A soft pink and golden glow suffused her cabin. She relished the warmth beneath her blankets. She lay for a moment enjoying the distant happy sounds of her tribe and the many chirping birds. She thought of the legend that long ago the people had learned to speak by mimicking the sounds of the fields and forests. Each time she listened to the birds, her conviction grew that the various kinds of birds spoke to each other, not only to those of their own kind. Indeed, they did this both at dawn’s first light and in the evening. Of course, they hid and stayed silent during storms, but in fine weather such as this, they also held dialogue just as the Veritas themselves had done the night before. 

Soon, she would check on plans for making major paths to the Center Place of the Veritas less accessible to horses or those upon them. But for a moment, she relished the image of Shadow Walker, tall and handsome. She smiled again as she recalled the many trials that she and Shadow Walker had faced. Her love for him first blossomed as he explained his observations about snakes. She chuckled. Now, that takes some empathy! She wondered whether she could ever love snakes as much as she loved the wolves. She again toyed with the First Ring of Empathy. Every time she did so, she felt an even stronger connection to Shadow Walker. Perhaps these rings held magic as yet undiscovered. 

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A knock interrupted her reverie. “Good morning?” someone queried. 

She recognized the surprisingly soft voice of Trunk of Tree. Many Paths wrapped a blanket about herself and padded to the door. There stood Trunk of Tree, his thick, well-muscled thighs were bare from the edge of his smock to his moccasins. There was a delightful twinkle in his eye. “Trunk of Tree. I hope you are well this day.” 

“I am indeed, Many Paths. I hope you are also well. I am sorry if I awoke you. I wanted to let you know that we have modified the cool path to make it impassible for those who would stand atop horses.”

“What? When? Did you work all night?” 

“No, Many Paths, but we arose at first light. For we do not know when another such attack may come. Or, it might happen that our search party will return with those who stand atop horses in pursuit. In any case….” Trunk of Tree looked at Many Paths and, not for the first time, noticed how deeply and wisely her dark eyes sparkled. 

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After a pause, Many Paths smiled and prompted, “In any case…?” 

“Oh, sorry. In any case.” Trunk of Tree blushed as he realized how much he loved to hear the voice of Many Paths — so much so that it was hard to listen to the words and find their meanings. He found himself wondering whether she and Shadow Walker really had betrothed as everyone supposed. And, what if Shadow Walker did not return? He banished that thought as soon as it arose. Shadow Walker was Trunk of Tree’s best friend and had gladly ventured out to find Tu-Swift despite the danger.  Now, Trunk of Tree found himself lusting after Many Paths. He must not feed the bad wolf. “In any case…” he began again, “as we were making the cool path between the cliffs impassible, Stone Chipper suggested another adjustment that would be hospitable to those on foot but make travel difficult for those who sit atop horses.” 

“Yes? Go on.” She looked kindly at Trunk of Tree, but, she hoped, not too kindly. 

“We wish to modify the path along the far side of the North River so that it would encourage any on horses to ford at the lower path rather than the upper path. This should look as though it’s a better road, but then, it will end at the bog near the field of flowers. The Veritas know how to leap from one grassy mound to the next, but we imagine such will prove impossible for anyone who stands atop a horse. None of us has seen a horse run there. Nor deer, nor elk. They only go very slowly in such a circumstance. We would love you. I mean, we would love you to think upon whether this is a good idea.” Trunk of Tree stared at Many Paths as the rising sun now strayed a golden ray upon the dark hair of Many Paths lighting it up like a special kind of sparkling rainbow. 

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Many Paths smiled at Trunk of Tree. “It sounds good. We must think about this together. How will it affect others of the Veritas and how will it affect other creatures, large and small? In any case, I need to attend now to my own needs for a short time. Then, I will ask She Who Saves Many Lives about your plan.”

Trunk of Tree softened his deep voice and said, “You are the Leader now, Many Paths.” 

“I am indeed, Trunk of Tree. But She Who Saves Many Lives has seen far more summers, and far more winters than I. What kind of a foolish leader would not to seek the counsel of those whose experience is greater? Such a person as that would not be a leader at all. The wise leader would seek wisdom from the great tree of life, our ancestors, our legends, our leaders, and even the children, but in this matter, I will definitely seek the wisdom of She Who Saves Many Lives.” She smiled that smile that Trunk of Tree considered as great a miracle as a rainbow. 

“You are wise, as always, Many Paths.” 

Many Paths answered, “I will always strive to be wise, but I know I cannot foresee all consequences.” She paused, then added, “I will travel presently to this place and meet you there so we may consider your plan. And, I would also like to see your work on the cool path between the cliffs as well if you would be so kind as to accompany me. Shall we meet at the North River pass about when Sun is here?” 

Many Paths raised her arm and pointed up at a slight angle. 

In a short time, after consulting with She Who Saves Many Lives, Many Paths began walking to the North River. As she walked, she begin thinking about Trunk of Tree. His strength and beautiful physique, it seemed to Many Paths, somehow encouraged people to overlook his intelligence and creativity. As she neared the bog, she recalled how Trunk of Tree had once told her of being attacked near here by a red-winged blackbird! He had been wearing a red mask which apparently fooled the red-winged male into thinking that Trunk of Tree was a rival! Many Paths had heard stories of humans as well who had fought each other over mates. Would Shadow Walker show such a jealous rage? 

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Many Paths noticed a nice and thriving crop of yellow dock along the path so she harvested some leaving enough to reseed itself. It would require a first boiling to remove something not good from the good and then add a bit to her stew for tonight but save most of it for drying. It formed part of the wound poultice that She Who Saves Many Lives had shown her many moons ago. 

As she had thought back to her childhood conversations with the elder shaman, Many Paths had come to realize that what had seemed friendly chit-chat at the time was already the beginning of an assessment that led She Who Saves Many Lives to choose her original twelve acolytes from among the youngsters of the tribe. And that meant, she supposed, when the current crisis was over, she too should begin the long process of choosing her successor. Or, perhaps a crisis was just such a time as to observe how various young ones of the tribe reacted. She thought of Horse Viewer, as he was now known, and, then, all at once, the image of Tu-Swift came to her and pulled at her heart, causing a single tear to creep down her cheek. 

“Thanks for coming, Many Paths” the gentle voice of Trunk of Tree began.

“Greetings, Trunk of Tree. Show me first about the path you plan to make into the bog.” 

“Certainly, Many Paths. Are you all right? Are you crying?” asked Trunk of Tree with genuine concern. 

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“I am all right. I am worried about Tu-Swift. But worrying is a waste of time. Let us make arrangements to make sure no more children are stolen. Hopefully, Tu-Swift will some day return to tell us of his adventures. I wish Eagle Eyes or even Easy Tears were here to help you make such alterations look natural.” 

“I am sorry about Tu-Swift, Many Paths. I am sure he will be … I hope he will return shortly and unharmed. Take my hand, and I will remind you of the path through the bog.” 

“Thank you, Trunk of Tree, but I think I can see such paths and trying to hold hands…holding hands will only complicate my path. You understand?”

Trunk of Tree swallowed. Now was as good a time as any. He tried to sound casual. “Many Paths, I need to ask you frankly. Are you and Shadow Walker betrothed?” 

“Ah, that is an interesting question. We love each other. Of that we have no doubt. But with all that is going on… you see, we had decided to have a long and difficult conversation after the Feast of Bell-Tane. And, then…after the attack… We have not had a chance.”

“If you really love each other, then what is there to discuss?” asked Trunk of Tree. 

“Having Tu-Swift stolen from me makes being leader much more difficult for me. Imagine if I had a child. Or two. Or three. That is serious business. I would really need the whole tribe to help. And, now is not the time to ask that. Anyway, let us discuss all that later. Show me about the path to the bog,” Trunk of Tree.

“Indeed, I shall.” Trunk of Tree bit his lip. “I only ask because. Because I too fancy you.” 

“Ah. Well, yes, I realize that. I find you attractive as well, but we must put all that aside until after these strange people who steal other people’s children have been dealt with. Otherwise, how could I be happy to have your baby? Or anyone’s?” 

Smiling wide-eyed baby

Photo by Mohamed Moustapha on Pexels.com

“Many Paths, as usual, you are wise, but I must tell you. I wish… We could pleasure each other without having babies.” 

“Trunk of Tree, you are pleasing to my sight, but don’t you see how the eagles mate for life? I am thinking first of Shadow Walker.”

“True, but many animals do not mate for life as you well know. They seem to mate at every opportunity! And, after all your name is ‘Many Paths’ not ‘One Path.” 

Many Paths laughed. “Nice try, Trunk of Tree, but I seek to think about many paths in order to choose one to walk. I do not seek to walk many paths all at once without thinking about any of them!”

“So, Trunk of Tree, let us please get to our task at hand which is for the future of the tribe, not just for our personal and momentary pleasure. If we avoid, destroy, or make peace with those who steal children, everyone will have more pleasure for many years, not just this day and not just us. I ask you again to show me your plan.” 

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——————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Myth of the Orange Man (whose Lying and Greed destroyed a people)

The First Ring of Empathy (which begins the current tale)

Feast and Fire (which begins Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas)

Author Page on Amazon

  

  

All…what?

25 Monday Dec 2017

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

collaboration, competition, cooperation, fascism, fear, greed, hate, learning, life, love, science

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Humanity finds itself in a new place. In evolutionary terms, we could say humanity suddenly finds itself in this new place. Life on earth, by best estimates is 4.75 billion years old. It’s easy to imagine, as a person, that the whole point of evolution is us. I don’t really see any reason to believe that. To the dolphin, deer, dog, dodo, and dinosaur, every one of their lives are every bit as precious to them as ours are to us. I do not even think humans are the “smartest” species on earth, at least, not in any absolute sense. We are the smartest in the directions of thought and behavior that humans find useful. So far as we know, we are the only species who has the information to know that our collective behavior can destroy us along with a lot of the other limbs on the giant, diverse tree of life and yet, here we still are, with atomic weapons, not pointed out defensively against invasions from outer space but pointed at other people on the planet. How could we possibly think we are the smartest species? Even if we avoid that kind of catastrophe, we still face dangers from over-polluting the planet, over-heating it, over-populating it, over-fishing and being over-hating. Indeed, this is nearly the darkest day in the darkest year. Is there reason to celebrate?

I think there is. In the blink of an eye, in evolutionary terms, we’ve managed to migrate across the entire planet. People live in tropical jungles, hot desserts, and in the frozen tundra. We’ve developed tools of thought and tools of trade and ways of dividing labor and communicating. And, now, although many people still do not have access, we have a communication network that spans the globe and we can communicate to some degree with people of different religions, cultures, languages, and experiences. We have vast networks of trade. We’ve come a long way.

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Yes, there are a few greedy people who, like Voldemort, cannot or will not experience love or its benefits. Instead, they have convinced themselves that everyone is out to get as much as they can for themselves (or, if some people aren’t on that program, they’re just stupid, in the view of the greedy). In reality, only a few people are completely hooked on greed and power. They do not see other human beings as partners, or colleagues, or fellow explorers in this vast world before us — a world that still has billions of unfound discoveries. Indeed, we have even built machines to help us make new discoveries. And, if we don’t change trajectories, we may make far fewer discoveries than we might. Of course, it isn’t just the people completely hooked on greed that are accomplices in humanity’s direction toward greed. The alternative is to think quite consciously about our decisions in terms of who we invest in, what product we buy, how we talk with our neighbor, how we ourselves do business. We ourselves can make choices that move us toward greater cooperation rather than necessarily choosing only on the basis of immediate cost/benefit analyses. Then, and only then, can we turn the world to kindness and discovery.

Despite our many advances, we have yet, for instance, to have conquered cancer; we have yet to conquer war; we have yet to conquer hate and fear. You see how easily, in fact, the metaphors of war pervade our thinking. It is possible that we don’t need to “conquer” cancer, war, hate or fear. Maybe, we just need to let them go. Maybe if we understand these things sufficiently, they will dissipate. Maybe these four things all required quite different approaches from anything that has yet been tried, and possibly all require a different approach from each other. But my reflexive approach is to state this in terms of “conquering” – that is, winning over an enemy rather than winning over an enemy.

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Perhaps, instead, the right approach to conquering cancer is not to “destroy” cancer cells but to re-integrate them into the society of the body. Perhaps they have been disillusioned that being part of the whole (body) is working for them. Maybe there is a way to “convince” them not to be cancer cells but to revert to what they were before cancer began.

Or, maybe we put something on an edge of the human body that has more of what the cancer cells “want” then anyplace within the body and let them “migrate” to the edge (and out of the human body — the “Pied Piper Approach”).

Or, perhaps, apart from pollution, a huge reason for cancer is that people are so busy so much of the time that they are not “noticing” teeny cancers within them. Perhaps people can be trained from birth to notice cancer cells and to send an overwhelming immune response before its too late. It sounds a bit absurd, but is it really? People can learn to “turn on” a single neuron in their brains with proper feedback. Is it really so far beyond the pale to imagine we could train ourselves to mount a targeted immune response?

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Perhaps all of these approaches might work and perhaps none of these approaches would work. The point is, that we need not reflexively think that “armed conflict” and “destruction” are the only methods that work to change the world. Many biologists think that the “nucleus” of our cells as well as our “mitochondria” were originally different organisms that started living symbiotically inside our cells. Is it too much to imagine that we could some day control the process of cells mutating and do it for our benefit? It seems absurd and ridiculous from the perspective of our knowledge today. And, yet — what would have our common ancestors on the African Savannah have thought 1,000,000 years ago if we could have explained to them that someday we would have machines that fly us around the globe — and to the moon? Or, how would they have reacted to the idea that we would have a network allowing us to communicate around the globe; that we would build machines that enable us to look into the workings of cells or the far reaches of the galaxy; that we would build fantastically beautiful musical instruments and that we could share music and ideas and stories across this earth; or that many people in our world die from having too much to eat!? 

It is quite possible that a century from now, people will very seldom die from cancer — or any other disease. In a similar fashion, we may well be able to set aside, recommission, redesign, or simply let go of war, hate, and irrational fear.

But none of that will happen unless we collectively decide what we want to be when we grow up. Because, as a species, despite wonderful achievements, we are still adolescents, at best. There are many tyrants in the world. Tyrants, as I’ve explained in prior postings, hate love and hate the truth. They really need war for cover in order to stay in power. Love complicates things. It’s just too unpredictable for people who want to be in control of everything. People’s reactions to absolute power wielded without ethics are much more predictable. Under enough painful torture, anyone will say anything 99% of the time. Of course, nothing positive and growth oriented ever comes from hate and fear alone. Only love moves life forward. Only love creates a more beautiful earth for our descendants. Only love discovers new beginnings, offers new ideas and new approaches. Beyond love’s instrumental value, more importantly, a world run by love is a world that feels good most of the time while it is happening, moment to moment. Of course, even in a world run largely by love, you will stub your toe or lose a friend, but most of every day’s activities you spend doing something because you feel as though you are making a contribution to something beyond yourself.

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On the other hand, in a world run largely by hate and fear, the momentary experience of almost everyone almost all of the time is miserable. You are basically snarling or sniveling with every communication. Naturally, even so, there will be moments of joy, but it will never be unmarred because joy will either fall prey to guilt, or even worse, spend so much resources defending against guilt that life will become gray and pointless. Every day, most of the time you are doing what you’re going because you feel as though you’ll be badly punished if you don’t.

Does it make any sense then, to have a society run by the very greediest people among us? What if the only reason they are so greedy is because they don’t experience the full spectrum of human emotion that the rest of us do? What if a huge part of their greed is actually specifically and quite consciously designing and demanding a society run by hate and fear?

Why? Because they themselves don’t feel love and they don’t want others to be able to in an unrestricted way either. They are jealous and the only way they see to avoid being faced with their own shortcomings is to reshape the world so that no-one can express love openly and fully. I am not talking only about restrictions on sexual partners. I am talking as well about artistic expression, a free press, scientific exploration, and education. Everything is subject to restriction in a dictatorial society. Love is the source of exploration. It cannot be fully functioning under a dictatorship.

And what about Christmas? What about the solstice? What about the light and the dark? I do believe we now live in much, much darker times than most people realize. We are, in one of three states: 1) we are like one of the beginning scenes of the Star Trek prequel where Kirk speeds a stolen car towards that he does not realize is a deadly chasm. At the last moment, he tries to skid sideways to a stop, leaps from the car, begins to totter over the side and holds on by his fingernails — then clambers back up. 2) we in the same scene but this time, our foot hits the door an inch to the left and we don’t quite make it. 3) we are like the road-runner cartoon character who has just run straight off a deadly cliff but his legs are still windmilling and for a short time — he appears to be running, and does not fall until he looks down and realizes he is no longer on solid ground.

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Well, it’s Christmas Day for me. And, the winter solstice has passed. The darkness really is receding and the daylight is encroaching on that darkness, minute by minute. We humans have had some dire times before and gotten through them. That doesn’t prove we’ll survive this Age of Greed, but I think it possible, perhaps even likely. But we must put the brakes on now. We must jump very carefully. And we must hold on for dear life.

We must hold on to each other. We must hold on to ethics as something that matters. We must hold on to the thought that, ultimately, we are all in this together. We must hold on to the thought that we are much more alike than we are different regardless of what customs, clothes, and food we prefer. We must hold on to the realization that a few greedy people cannot really rule the world, unless we participate with our own greed, fear, and hate.

We can pull this off. Instead of being the despoilers of the planet, we will make it ever more beautiful. Eventually, we will be “in tune” again, with nature and each other. How precisely to make this happen isn’t clear and no two people would probably approach it precisely the same way. Nonetheless, if we work together as best we can, keep discussing our differences in a civil way, and make as many decisions as we possibly can with at least a thought to the greater good, we will make it.

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Merry Christmas.


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