Saturday, November 7, 2015

democratic socialism

It can be argued that more equitable distribution of access to resources is both more democratic as the majority of people can vote with their dollars for the kinds of goods and services we want, and better for economic growth and the optimal functioning of market economy.

Nobody is getting free stuff. This idea is a shared illusion.  Everyone is getting paid. Those who produce and sell the products, those who work and pay taxes, those who are paid to contribute economically as consumers while keeping their dysfunctions out of the workplace, are all being paid. No one is losing. It's a win/win/win.
Many of the people reviled with concerned that they get "free stuff" are working very hard; and not getting sufficient compensation to pay for basic needs. Others are seriously disabled, requiring major accommodations to be effective employees. Most employers prefer not to make such accommodations (quite understandably), so these people can not be employed. Government or private concerns could develop special training and projects to employ those who could work, but rarely do.
Others, though not traditionally disabled have such chaotic lives (for any of many possible reasons) that they are unemployable.
Others will be employed and able to make their own contributions to the general revenue; but for right now that has not happened.
Yet, these people are all actively contributing to the overall economy while their lives are sorting out. Fewer people are actively sick and destitute on the streets, and thus not bringing down property values, causing problems for local businesses, presenting disincentives for people of means to shop or enjoy public space, or presenting even greater problems for health care and crime industries.

There appears to be a spell long cast upon the people to integrate into our basic understanding of the world this idea of market based economy as a given. Economics, money, even mathematics, are human constructs, ideas, not reality. When economic systems, ideas we have joined in promoting, do not well serve human enterprise and needs, the people ought not feel it is we who must adjust to serve the economy. Rather, it is those ideas that need adjustment to better fit our purpose.

However, as the logical progression of market thinking dictates, those who have benefited, who have bases of power that serve them well by their lights, want the rest to live and die in thrall to the system that these powerful command. A useful subterfuge is to convince the bulk of us that the system is not only inevitable, but in our best interest if only we will work hard enough and cast our doubts and blame into burning hatred for the designated losers.

At this time business and social enterprises of all kinds are going through revolutionary changes thus that business experience of the past into the present will be irrelevant to enterprises of even the near future.

Until we get somebody born in space, we are all tied to Earth.

when most of us are complacent, or too busy trying to tread water to notice much beyond our immediate sea, those with ugly axes needing grinding or with excellent profit projections on destruction are going to set the scene.

If they were listening, I would say:
figure it out
but first, think about your precepts
and, most importantly,
where you want to be
(not where you should; or where you could)
on the other side.

So envious of the unwanted?  Quit your lousy job, too taxed, too overworked, too ignored.
Surely you deserve better those under.  Enjoy your natural bounty, and all that our country offers.
Taxes?  Ever it has been so in our culture.  Jesus was born, so the story goes, when his mortal parents
were on the road to pay required tithes of their livelihoods.  For the privilege of doing business, trading
our time and skills for pay, the top takes their cut.  We pay our homage and percentage to our lord,
and hope his armies will protect us from invading hordes.

If you don’t like the system developed over eons for the benefit of those who have forced their way
to be in charge, create a better one.  Then (here’s the trick) sell it to a majority; and make them care enough
to follow through.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Occupy Art (make Peace The issue)

Occupy Art (make Peace The issue)

In the free world
Do we?
Live like undead slaves?
Do we only move as directed, never dance freely in a whirling wind;
never touch finger to foreign finger for a thrill of acceptance?
Never sing music assimilated within from all the painful days 
swirled into revel excitement?  Do we not breathe and inhale airs 
unexpected, strange and calling to communal desire?
Such solemn sensuality.  Vibrant air lingering warm and sweet.
Images that stay.  Music that accompanies a day’s montage of duties.
Theater as intimate ritual.
Dancers dance.
Musicians play.
Enchanting sylph narrates to sinuous back beat, tingle of chimes.  
Occasionally emphasizes subtle percussions with intense expressions, 
leaps, cunning stumbles, daring fall into spellbound sound, archetypal passion escapades, 
poignant weeps, salient shouts to power. 
Feel each instant’s music move in tune.
Reach into balance within limits of room, laws of motion, draw of ecstasy.
Each mood enhances expressive release, stretch for a piece reflective and deep.
Ordered vibrations cosset, hold like a heart-bound twin.
Sad biographies, personalities grandiose or subdued, but delusions.  
Substitute equivalent qualities sold as sums that define identity.  
Told how to hear or say.  Mere chatter, 
in the way ideations whether profound or silly are spread.  
Sound from will, music imbues momentum,
interweaves with what keeps us who we become, overcome.

Friday, August 14, 2015

August 15 ‘A Spontaneous Day of Peace’

August 15 ‘A Spontaneous Day of Peace’  - Social Media & The Blogosphere

Sky born, lifted above
Water, Earth, primordial mud.
Bare breath and lilting light waft up, carry ephemeral
tongues, frenzied yet exquisite. Exaltation, daring
to swoop, touch, climb, pirouette.
Path briefly complete in hover, amazed, over
flowering waves.
Vision trails, engulfed in smoke of smelting flame,
gasping, tropically turning, blind, yet
beyond mistrust.  A world drifts.  Black night backlit in
pinpricks.  Atmosphere of bioluminescence,
symphonic, symbiotic.  Listen as rippling elements
grow words, symbolic histories, into a Summer game.
Out here, sparkling rain weaves rainbows.  Reverence
casts reflection as shimmer and shadow play.
Up here, beyond boundaries of ordinary days,
the only Commandment to penetrate --
Be Peace
Lighting Candles
I wish you peace.
I wish you love.
I wish you time to
explore your essence.
I wish you safety.
I wish you patience.
I wish you visions,
sweet dreams and
sweeter days.
I wish the world
a sweeter disposition.
I wish for peace,
for love,
for better times.
I wish we all get
the wishes we yearn for.
I thrice charge these wishes
and send them to you.
Body Language
Teach Peace
Dancing in the classroom
Body wisdom
reaches through neural pathways,
regenerates whole to whole,
soul to soul
touching seam
I feel you in my mind, my spine.
Feel me dancing,
elongating muscles,
extending connections.
Logic of Evolution
Successful progenitors
survive to sow seed
by force or persuasion
or hiding off screen
or banding together
that more may succeed,
and upgrade conditions,
enhance the breed.
But, for such teams to work well
we must
learn to respect, honor, and trust;
expect to contribute, receive and share,
accept the caring for and care.
In community varied seeds are sown.
Thus is a thriving future grown.
Or, sibling rankling infests, turns
on neighbors as scorn.
Barriers proliferate,
preparations for war.
Who is emboldened by
destruction and blood,
blasting civilizations
back into mud?
Are these principled people
filled with kindness and joy?
Those who can create, build;
the lacking destroy.
Guns, bombs, cruel words,
contempt, angry sneers,
promotion of pain,
preying on fears,
paying us naught but
unneeded tears
and advancement of certain
unsavory careers.
We can reject violent lies,
realize the prize.
Here! before our eyes.
Simple. Easy. Free.
Expect, accept, embrace
the abundance
of Peace.
Earth Songs
Aching times.
Ghost singers on the prairie.
Snug little home, hearthfire familial peace
against rage and winds. Stone and sacrifice.
Dust storms erode,
leave wastrel sentinels.
Far, in green glade mists
where ancient hymns are born,
chthonic wilds, primordial rune castings.
Building over eternity, silent, archetype of will, ponders.
Intrinsic senses, despair, bottomless sorrow, loss of intent.
At the root of desire, truest wish to be fashioned,
sold at price of who you were made against your nature.
Wooden ships sail eternal sea.
Journey ages within these circles, free.
Easy found trades, winds selling seeds.
Back to the gardens of pagan lore --
earth, air, sun, and transforming water.
We wander days of potent destiny,
telling the tale, deep mystical incantation,
of a possible age in birth.
Love song 'tween man
and Earth.
we are not our ancestors
we are not religions
we are not lines on a map demarcated by war
we are earth made vital
we are seeking minds inviting partners
we are seed and core as skin sheds and grows anew
we are me and you and all we become, alone and together
we are as we agree, composed of dissonance and harmony
thriving lives matter
Peace matters
Clean Up
I dislike the implied mess of violence.
Peace is more tidy,
clean and inviting.
Why waste precious metal
in deadly intent
when a kickass party
can pay the rent --
a rant and rave relaxing
pent up pain.
Where’s the percentage of gain?
The perception that rage requires
release within this people cage,
to ease torment of feeling less
Reflex flight or fight? Psychobabble hype?
Nobody  needs to violently die today.
Luminescent Choir
Singers in the fog.
Outlying voices thin, yet growing;
accruing sound, like liquid, flowing.
Emoting tales of woe, resistance.
Shouted sighs of denied existence.
Insightful chants insist persistence.
We never died.  We're knitting strong.
Born into a world-wide village.
Only from ourselves to pillage.
Hear our song.
Some bright good morning of
fish and loaves, cake and wine,
capacious tribes adjoin in movement.
Shining line of peace.
Terror’s fear released.
Music, celebration in the streets.
Flower scented candles,
vigil against shame.
Blazing through miasmic mist,
Apollonian flame torches banners of
hostilities falsely triggered
in our name.
Come harmonize, aloud:
We're alive and proud
to descant, dispel dank chill.
Sing to vanquish fog.
This is our greatest duty
Live in peace,
believe in joy --
For as joy fills our hearts, we leave no room for
As joy fills our lives, we learn to live
Outreaching love
Deep healing warmth
Safe harbor home
Benevolence assured
Fulfilling Hope
Affirming Joy
Abiding Peace
Make Peace The Issue

conversation with depression

Depression is not an illness.  It is a way of organizing information.  There is not even objective meaning of "depression"; but rather a series of "symptoms" some, none or any of which can be involved.  Rather than lock people into some specious diagnosis, we could better look at what is going on in their lives and respond accordingly.
No matter your predispositions to this or that response to overbearing stress, much more generally useful than (legally prescribed or illicitly self-medicated) system skewing drugs would be learning better coping strategies.
For one:  Focusing on satisfying personal experience rather than looping into the pain of resignation and blame
Eventually, perhaps, the "scientists" will discover that correlation is not causation and the brain/body/soul is a fully interactive system. The brain activity associated with depression is the brain going through its processes to tell you what is happening with your system. The brain activity will change as you change.
challenge to depression
It's not my fault.
It's not my responsibility.
It's the world I live in.
I need to find a way to live in it comfortably.
Not the world "we" live in; the world "I" live in. We each have our own. It is the ecostructure which informs our programming.
It is not my fault: I did not create this world. I was born into it. It is the given to which I respond.
It is not my responsibility: It follows its own rules, not mine. I have no way to control, but can only interact. I have my own responsibility, which is to learn to develop and use my own resources, to take care of myself, to perform the roles that are mine, which will expand this world to include my own self-definitions.
To find ways in which to live comfortably in my world, even if they may (or may not) include a great deal of discomfort, is about finding the ways to express my true essence in joy and grace. It is pure waste to syphon off my energy into self-blame, self-excoriation, self-punishment. By focussing that energy into living comfortably in my world, I am allowing myself to emerge and expand and energize into ideas and actions that fulfill both me and those affected by the ripples.
I am talking about challenging depression, which to a large extent seems to be based on feelings of guilt and inadequacy.
My world is the world that I was born and continue to evolve from, the given background of everything/everyone/everymoment that affects and effects the way I come to understand who I am by contrast and comparison. It is the world of the social culture, the emotional relationships, the physical environment, the airwaves and lightwaves, the nutritional components of the foods I have learned to take in, the mass media and the personal conversations, the rules of conduct both written and unwritten, the pressures and erosions and movements that have formed my underlying assumptions and the structures in which they are housed.
What I am suggesting here in my challenge is exactly what you speak of as magick -- letting go of the old illusory order and recreating the self to encourage new metaprogramming which will be both freeing and expanding in a self-chosen direction.
If you do not like the space in which you dwell and move out or change it/your perspective of it, you first must understand that this is a space which you can leave or change, and where it is that you would better go/what changes you would better devise. What is the "symptom" and what the "problem"? I am saying the symptom is simply a misunderstanding of the placement of image and background; the problem is the denigration of the self.
We can not move out of the all pervasive background. We cannot control it. We can interact with it to create a better fit all the way around.
It (that is not your responsibility) is the world of everything that exists before, ahead, around you that has helped to create your mindset, your basic and consequent programming, your take on who you are and your place in that world. It is NOT your responsibility (my responsibility). It is not my fault. It IS my world. My responsibility, my need, in order to be the person who is ME, who fulfills my roles for the good of my life and ultimately the lives I affect, is to find ways to live in my world more comfortably. No contradiction. No victimization, rather a breaking away from victimization. The world is not fate to be mine -- it is the background for which I am the image.
I feel I am not communicating. Let me try from another entry point.
Have you ever been seriously depressed? I don't mean tragically unhappy, but that irrational paralysis that keeps you from being able to bear the thought of doing, being, continuing.
What is that thoughtstream, that blaring punishment just behind your eyes? What is that voice saying?
"You're fat! You're lazy! Stupid! Incompetent! Selfish! Nobody likes you! You're not worth dirt! You are committing the greatest possible sin just by existing. The world would be better off without you; and you would be better off without the world."

That is the world I am talking about. The world that gave you these ideas in the first place. That world in which you fit only most uncomfortably. Yet, it is the only world you know. It is the world that formed your knowledge, your permitted ways of knowing. It is all the rules and structure that have given form to your life. It is that harsh word from a stranger that you didn't understand, and how mom made you feel and dad had scared you, and the sly look as a schoolmate whispers into another's ear, a look aimed at you. Or, hell, it could be hell. It could be the people dropping dead around you, and what could you possibly do to make up for surviving. It could be a sacred promise you made to a dying friend that could never be fulfilled. It could be rape; it could be terrifying violence. But you got it wrong. You blamed yourself. And the reasons you got it wrong go back to that world, not to you.

Saturday, August 8, 2015


Walk this expansive garden with me.
Don’t talk.
Don’t take up your thoughts
wondering what to say.
Walk freely.
Air out and in.
This magnificent garden,
colours alive.
What do you see, smell, sense?
Who is this you with senses,
with imagination,
with me
in this garden?
Who would you be, what would you do,
if time and space were infinite?
Don’t talk.
infinite regression of change and resistance
multi-rhythmed rhyme
singing into the winds of change
to move their vector more in line
with where we wish to arrive
astral vision
Mystery mists of history holy lightening heightening sky.
Desirous anticipation.
Early pinks ascend from eerie violets.
Sun’s lifting eye twinkles like a happy kitten,
tummy exposed for adoration.
Omens, prophecy, hope for enduring happy returns,
quests beyond horizons now observed.
(without gravity, how can we fall ... or love?)
Aching for stars, planets, infinite,
silent assent that means all is promised.
I touch a cosmic peak,
breathless at such altitude.
Infinite, eternal, these are words,
maps to definitions, not what is.
Creation never ends, never begins again,
not repetition but reflection.
Legends and runes.  Ritual regression.
Significant omens.
Ravens forsake flocks, ranges skewed.
In primordial recesses of a sigh
trembling hearts enact a pact of solitude,
invent machinations of separation,
journey through despair.
Sovereign brains evolve, adapt to dangers;
patterns that evoke anger, fear.
Scanning eyes, ears, nostrils
filter through parameters,
call out Warning!  Warning!
far too often, far too loud.
There is no guide, no authority,
none but me, repeatedly mirrored.
Each step, each succession
in idiosyncratic interpretation.
What will become of all these "I"s
staring through, demanding
retribution, bare, raw justice?
Respectable explanation.
Rigorous notation.
Scores, codes, clocks, keystones.
Laws and theories developed to describe
thin segment of encompassment
accessible to sense and reason.
Early morning of soft savannah
wakens to cloud and mist.
Waft of tranquil distillation
soothing startled breasts --
Ripples quietly express
infinitely regressing
first cause
last effect.
I Have a Secret
(remind me when I flail)
Relinquish distorted burdens, proddings,
guilts detached from sticky past beyond.
As much as change is, permanence exists
as measured landscape.
Stories still stir primal wonder.
Hopes, wishes, aspirations, familiar allies
to focus change, focus mind within changes.
On reflection,
certainties of youth
acquire a different truth.
Re-direction creates a different view.
Revealed feelings new to introspection.
Not what you expected.
Different cues
mix into different moods.
There are infinite paths to imagine.
So many worlds – divergent time.
A kiss may awaken a queen
or set a crone to dreaming
or be seen as defilement of that most
pernicious kind.
Where we arrive, what bliss we find
outside the reach of simple limb extension
is not about up and down retention
or spiral twines.
Your eyes draw me,
they fill in the lines
with infinite perspective.
We breathe in expansive comprehension,
design a widened sky to fly --
more beauty to infuse.
truth is not narrow
it is infinite
the narrow way
is fear's, or merely a tunnel
on the way to truth
find a quiet place
let your mind drift and wander
fall into infinite awareness
take a leisurely stroll through
what feels good, right, beautiful
Beyond stratosphere,
infinite bliss,
the whole of the real.
Daring to explore pleasure, infinite awareness.
Leisurely share what feels genial, good, light.
Infinite muse lit lanterns take wing,
illuminate eternity.
Cells disperse out from infinite regression,
demand expanding territory,
redefinition, delineation, demarcation.
All the places of possibility
open to scrying eyes.
I am the universe of time and space

awaiting birth.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

belated - Kala Snowflower

I just oh so late learned of Kala/ Ix'chel Neve's passing
My heart is drowning in tears
My eyes search for her blessing

Nuit Report: weekly astrology Feb 27-Mar 6: Full Moon in Virgo. Matters of "Ultimate Concern".

I dedicate this Nuit Report to the memory of Ix'chel Neve. A bright beacon of Love and Light in this world, who continues to open hearts and inspire even as she has transitioned to the other side. A free spirit, poet, and Sister who's openness and shared experience has been unutterably beautiful. We have collectively received a great gift in her, just by her existence on this plane, and she will be terribly missed by many. 

This week we have several aspects and events that invite us to strongly consider matters of “Ultimate Concern”. Venus makes strong contacts with the ongoing (and culminating) Uranus-Pluto square. We are called to ask ourselves what it is that we truly value—what will matter in the end when we question the meaning of our lives? Do we live in a manner that aligns us with what we truly hold with love, beauty, and value? 

The Full Moon at 14 degrees Virgo conjuncts Black Moon Lilith thurs March 5. This asks us to become integrated (or into integrity) with our passion, instincts and sexuality, connecting it with our sense of spirituality, love, and intelligence. We are invited to be more whole, more free. Why are we alive? If today was the last day, what would you most want to make sure that you did? Said? Felt? Loved? Experienced? 

“Do not be afraid.
The God is passionate.
The Goddess compassionate.
In Death prepare to live again
Come Spring."

excerpt from "Change"
Ix'chel Jaguar, October 2014. (C. 2014 , Michelle Neve)”
Michelle wrote poetry for over 40 years starting at the age of 7. She left 17 books in digital form spanning the years from 1997-2014 (as well as more in handwritten form). Here are selections from some her many poems. As of this writing her books are being edited and will be self-published in the early summer."

Kala Joy reading Poetry at Beards of Valenccio - Aug 2013
Published on Mar 4, 2015
Kala Joy Neve (aka Ix'chel Jaguar) reading her own poetry at the Beards of Valenccio Art Salon on Aug 16, 2013. The 3 pieces she reads are In the Center, Wasp Dreams, and Cancer.

Directions from dreamtime:

Go to the same address
then down 1,000 stories.

Going back to the Beginning
before the beginning
when Nothing had a name

but everything had voices
for singing,

stumble upon a boy
alone in the forest
playing guitar
revealing such intimacies
you can only
watch sideways
hidden among leaves
as the music
takes you into
his whole.

Then run
deeper and through a violet door
between pine and stripped oak
and enter a gingerbread house
of lovers no longer in cages
where at birth they were welcomed
by a witch so hungry to eat
sweet innocence
but children can be tricky
so for thirty years
she's been slow cooking
on the flame
and the children are grown now
yet linger among the cookie crumbs,
holding hands, awaiting
the main course
and dancing circles
around the oven.

Then open the door slowly
and enter through
the hot embers,
clinging to your robes,
your conical hat burning away.
Skin and fat bubble
and burst, juices flow,
basted in your blood
made savory.
Through particalized eyes
watch as the Children
of Light wipe you from
their lips with kisses.

Back again
to the beginning.

There was a flute
and a mermaid playing
and her lover praising
her Beauty.
And everyone took turns
sitting on a golden ball
that bloomed petals
while each Buddha beamed
and miles away
a single voice
balanced on a precipice
not realizing
he was smiling
as he fell over the edge
scattering coins.
(c) Kala Snowflower



(for Kala Snowflower)
Magical child, the world awaits you.
Not just this place,
any world you care to grace,
relate to, turn your lovely face to.
“We love you”
sing the winds, the seas,
the creatures large and small.
“We love you always”
Swing of exultation into the night;
you turn it to charming revelry.
Play that haunting melody.
It moves you
into a chance to name your trance,
to name us all
as we, before your eyes,
the skies will dance for you,
will open wide their hearts of stars.
Sparkling through the dark,
Shining into day.
You play.
All of creation joins voice to your song,
creating worlds of joy.