#Terrorism ? ? ? #Barrett Brown ? ? ?

If We Speak Truth, We Are Human Not Terrorists

As I stated in the past, if Barrett Brown is a criminal then every single human being (and bot) who reads a hacked corporate state email is an enemy of the corrupt establishment. This includes moi. I prefer not to be a bleating slave to the smoke and mirrors dismantling of the Bill of Rights. I adamantly refuse to be labeled by the empire I am a terrorist because i yammer on against tyranny and injustice with specifics and facts.

At this late date (read the 59th minute), Homeland Security can pretty much do whatever it wants to you or me to “thwart terrorism.” The CIA, the NSA, the West Wing, the Pentagon, Google, the banksters, the power behind the thrones, and the other nameless zombie basturds who too easily sold their puny souls for forty pieces of silver are adroitly pushed back via social media by us. We are the people’s army of awareness. We disseminate freedom knowledge. We tweet, we post, we blog, and we comment standing up for liberty, justice and bread. We are the resistance.

The second revolution in America is underway so it is imperative we unearth ethical leadership to represent life and harmony. Otherwise dear ones, our lame species is heading for the junk heap. I understand the intent of Anonymous to have no leaders. Yet, I am an ‘ole fashioned humanist plus a shitty follower of others and I psychologically get why some of us are at the head of the herd.

At the pro NYPD rally today twenty folks showed up. Need I say more about the power of social media to organize and sustain a movement to end the rigged game of power and corruption?

Millions stand up in person in the streets (marching, chanting, and flirting) backed by social media with a fresh intensity and dedication to protest police military tactics and brutality of the citizenry.

Even smarty pants sitting in chic living spaces are holding up their hands. The empire is crumbling. The war mongers can pretend the global casino is a spin upwards. The profiteers stupidly pump killing Muslims, fracking, GMO, Big Pharma, and geo-engineering as perverted solutions to the climatic and civil society crisis on Earth they caused – that too many of us until recently accepted as pro forma. Today, the reality is we literally do not buy their us v. them fear tactic caca or their Walcrap products, anymore. Plus, we are explaining to our family, friends, and associates the real deal and they are joining us.

The polluted rigged game is tittering – the amazing speed of the world wide web is faster than the manufacturing of war machines and CIA torture camps.

In the meantime, chew on this bone – October 2014 was the third largest American usage of cars in the history of the country. Why? According to the Feds it was the drop in the price at the gasoline station – but I think we, as a nation, and as a people, are ON THE MOVE.


The Reason is You

After nearly thirty years of being sober and clean, I have a seen a lot of sad soul sick folks in 12th step meetings. But, the one that tore my ailing heart to threads was a young pretty blonde girl (Quogue, NY, Thursday night meeting) who self-harmed – cut her own flesh. Listening to this video I read a comment from another one living in an identical hell on Earth I have no comprehension. I feel the same way about what happens to Gaza, Syria, Iraq, Cairo, downtown Detroit, and so forth. I freely admit I friggin’ do not get it.

How the f*ck can we do such horrors to ourselves, or each other, or Pachamama? What darkness befalls one’s spirit? Life is so gorgeous if we just see (read lower our shields and shades), not just look. And, when the shit happens – no caring human escapes the caca – the holy fix we simply need to do is confide in a trusted friend to ease the pain – be they human, canine, avian, living angel, or God.

The entire 12th step program is based on free thinking surrender and the mysterious healing power of the fellowship. When I write about recovery, I add how grateful I am for grace entering my life. Why me? I dunno. I was heady blessed from an impending doom of a self-imposed purgatory inside a designer lifestyle. The multi-dimensional life preserver arrived without pity or enabling.

Most people come into the rooms of AA bankrupt at every shady corner of their lives. I was dragged to meetings in Laguna Beach, California, making a monthly income most folks make in a half a decade creatively doing something i thought I loved. My paper mache story was I was burned out from a worldwide fixing campaign. I felt I had ridden my locked-up life into a space with no return.

Today, I continue to carry a tattered petard where the manifesto reads love rules and compassion is the meta wrench in our rusty tool box. I went from wanting a perfect soul to realizing I am from somewhere else, and then accepting such a gritty premise by wearing my sobriety lightly, not like a doomsday cape tied in a triple knot around my neck. There is no halo above my brain but distant stars do glisten in my green eyes if you look closely . . .

I never shed my dreams for world peace but i said adios to those who swallowed the pill life sucks to exist in a bubble of poor me hobbled to blame and shame indulgence. What I use to be, is no longer.

I swear this is true.

Once you hear the inner truth rattle with no replays and too many fast forwards the doctored movie script is riddled with moments of joy. From these delightful calls come passionate insight from afar and captivated faith appears to carry on during the 59th minute.

In the gentleness of some enchanting jungle mornings when defenses have not risen, I shamelessly let the tears flow for you, Earth, and what was. Looking out across the rainforest and the Pacific something weird happens during these purgings. I am struck by happy thunderbolts of what could be. Luckily, I possess no showboat blood stains from an invisible stigmata.

Today, my persona is brimming with concern in a different vain. It is turning out writing a novel is not a kayak group paddle up the misty Hudson, it is broad reach across the Rhode Island sound during falling seas. Not funny, I already knew the fictional painting I would be writing with words is unbounded. Like poignant piano playing, the secrets give up themselves one note a time. My hope is the final lyrics have import. I leave the music for the readership to hear on their own.

Living alone with monkeys, toucans, and swinging bunches of bananas is to be relied on. Social media is coming home to pickup the mail and check on the seedlings. A few of you have no idea how important you are.

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Not Only for the Christmas Season

“Forgive the guilty,” is not a slam dunk as it includes ourselves and the demons we know, or knew, and even imagined. Two days ago, mulling over current events while beading at the table on the veranda (a mindless craft I take up when my heart is overwhelmed), I was repeatedly muttering, “Ya know Bon, you are going to hell even though you live in paradise.” When the nosey committee within meets to discuss/project my life I listen, with detachment, but not much import.

I dunno, but at this date and time, beating myself up is part of the quest for humility?

Clearly, I would prefer not to live in an afterlife of screaming skull and bones and burning fires but the longer I live this human hell is exactly what we fester on Earth. I witness the horrific ghastly shit we do to each other and this marvelous planet and count my blessings, and yours too, for freely floating above the delusions.

I am an observer. My days of directly jumping into the fray are more than likely finished. Today, and tomorrow, I would prefer relentless living within a kindly, considerate, loving, and satisfying world but maybe the best one can do is be blessed with a significant other who seeks a nearly identical way of life. Oh, and the s.o. carries a level of compassion so heavy, it is invisible, to even himself.

Gratitude arrives set into various stained glass works and occasionally in the form of a woven cloth found forgotten yet forgiven.

#ICan’tBelieve #FreePalestine #Gaza #HumanRights #HandsUp10348590_1004120959605292_1684827785795614703_n

Berkeley Redux – Latest American Winter of Discontent

When I took the exit sign to the jungle in July 2007 from the Hamptons, NY, my forehead was badly bruised from banging my rad head up against the establishment’s war mongering, bankster, greedy, and god-less wall of greed.

A few years later, as December 2012 mania hit my expat neighbors, I listened as they explained how they would survive the upcoming madness (take your pick of the conspiratorial paranoia).

Yet, our original intent was to be as sustainable as possible here at gorgeous Finca Vigia and why we selected this property to purchase – it had the natural necessary attributes plus the views were mega.

What is unfolding in America will not go away. People are sick and tired of being screwed with war, debt, and now police departments acting like insurgents in what were peaceful communities.

When Gov. Ronald Reagan in the late 60s. called out the militia with the dogs, tear gas, and the flying wedge it only caused more people (students, professors, writers, artists, community activists) to stage sit downs for peace in Berkeley/Oakland/San Francisco/NYC/Chicago, etc. Protest rallies against the war in Vietnam were always in the thousands but they went to complete shutdowns of the universities and local communities.

Desert Storm, the Arab Spring, (see the list below of wars just in the MIddle East), and now the American Winter of Discontent, are coming home to roost.

When smarty pants people get up off their comfy arses and march into the tree lined streets to stand up for justice in ghetto-ville Missouri it is a sure sign the body politic is awakening.

What will happen in Berkeley is not akin to the Arab Spring revolution dismantled by the western elite. The difference is the San Francisco Bay Area is loaded with over educated over achievers who know the benefit of social media because they designed it and work for it, plus many make a mint compared to the poverty stricken realities of Egypt and Palestine.

Yes, becoming any kind of medical personnel is probably a fantastic growth industry even though no computer globally devised model can predict.

The West Wing is a failed enterprise because the two headed monster (Dims and GOPs) are the water boys and girls for their masters = dirty oil and war machine manufacturers coupled to the banksters.

God protect the innocent. #ICantBreathe



The Big Kahuna Laughs Out Loud

This morning a high overcast, a calling Guaco (Laughing Falcon), and a slight level of annoyance. This is an indicator i need to evaluate or re-evaluate a perspective or emotive response.

I consider those who comment here and actually watch or read what is posted or reposted as consciousness treasures. The meta-hoops of self serving kitty kat memes and salaciousness exhibited in social media piles up faster than a Long Island, NY Gringolandia land fill (dumps).

Currently, the essence of our species is defining collective brutal honesty. Some of us became aware of the human condition and wholly integrate while others surge along in intellectual if not soul denial saying one thing yet being and meaning something else.

To be true to thyself and stand up for justice and freedom is an act of species survival and a sign of empathetic liberation? Self-absorption is the box canyon of buried fear while wearing cement shoes made from a mixture of hollowness and artificiality. To be authenicate – true to one’s self – is to realize a societal Gestalt and a personal manifestation of communion from a higher power are one and the same.

Over the years, maturity fashions an insurance policy of inner trust (read intuition). We sense our impending and at our most attuned act out of watchfulness.

Questioning motives while sensitized provides checks and balances to what we seek to be and become. Feelings are handy signposts. One can ignore them (denial) or review with kindly detachment and fresh consideration.

Oddly, or not, hope and love glow even though the mind interjects and attempts to derail the truthbot of a human quest.

What is the quest? An universal query thinkers mull and mall yet shadows us all is this cosmic centered need to know why, when, where, who, and what (commonly the five w’s of journalism).

Faith is the antidote and why humans created religions. Wild creatures and wild places have no framework of questioning their existence not because they lack consciousness. The opposite is true. They live in the here and now holy connected to the comprehensive all encompassing web. Humans on the other hand wallow in the myth of separation. Yet, we are under species-wide development during these horrific times of human suffering and possibly it is a no pain no gain scenario. I dunno.

Intuively, many sense connectivity, freedom, and compassion are collective tools for our survival but the key to unlock the doors to massive awareness where peace reigns is illusive. Leadership in the ruling body politic is arrogant and deeply flawed over run with war mongers and paranoids.

The people’s Earth-wide revolution is an inside job first throwing off the shackles we allowed to be placed around our hearts in separation from life in soul isolation wards we constructed.

The momentum for a planetary call for liberty must include a healing paradigm for a whole Earth. Amends to each other are not subsequent to installing a global democracy, they are primafacia. What we have done and our doing to Gaia is the acting out of lethal disconnection.

Unification and solidarity between you and me is the finer medicine, yet, because we are human with lessons to realize and to grow from the road up the mountain is steep and deceptively narrow.

An example: Personally, i could never need to go back into the fray of actual human interaction. My simple yet elegant life is blissfull here on Finca Vigia. I could wile away my remaining days and be serene and wholesome. But, human gene pool I am, i prefer not to stand alone. Love of another, God, Earth, self, and life is an interlinked panacea.

Partnering is a tricky set of happenings. Success is about the choosing, yet how ironic since it is serendipiditious by nature.

Happiness is a thin mist. Joy is a momentary hit of ah ha. The life scripts we preconceive are plentiful, at least in my imaginations. I try to go with the flow and while some label this being spontaneous i perceive it as a surrender of my chunky crusty controlling junkie ego. Now, such an m.o. is not without decisions, editing, flexibility, and doubt.

Our hearts set epic stuff in motion to keep the journey mysterious and bumpy. Why? My best questimation is God has one helluva a sense of humor.god-laughing

Whose Faith Is It?

The concept of a false prophet has forever been a slippery piece of old straw in my craw. I dunno. When we judge each other we set ourselves up for righteous indignation easily slain or at least slammed. This is my cardinal golden rule, take what you want and leave the rest = No one has the right to put down anyone else’s body of faith and sacred texts, or rant on saying so and so is a false prophet because same is not part of their belief system.

Humans by evolutionary nature, contrivance of DNA, and cultural indicators believe whatever they believe. It is neither spiritual nor cool to slam another because they do not follow your operating concepts on how to believe, or not to believe. Such thinking feeds the us vs. them paradigm placed on the petard of separation to divide us from each other and our place among all living entities on the whole #Earth.

You want to believe in toga wearing dancing spirits the size of bowling pins or your God is the only God on Earth, go for it. Yet, do not assume your faith is superior and mine being different is less than yours. A hint of superiority on your part is merely a fattened ego fed by insecurity. For those who prescribe to no faith in a higher power, I personally think you are ruled by your head, not your heart, but it does not mean I preclude you from friendship or concern.

Compassion is without containment and is humanity in action. We either universally unilaterally act with esteem for ourselves and towards others (including all living things and Earth) or we eventually fall into the abyss and go extinct. How I practice my faith is actually none of your business. My connection to a higher power is private and not to be cursed or exalted by you. I operate from a set of values, morals, and a rule book handed to me as a kid. The golden rule is a core guide for sober right action.

Love is paramount in every single one of our human endeavors or affairs. Paying it forward kindness with a smile generates positive energy and acceptance. Personally, I prefer the company of wild creatures to most humans, yet when I do encounter the rarity of gentle maturity AND creative intelligence in another sentient being I am genuinely elated.

As to a heritage of religion, I was raised a Presbyterian, and I was married in a Presbyterian Church established in 1640 by a straight-laced Presbyterian clergyman and a bohemian Lutheran minister (the groom’s actual best friend since prep school days). Since childhood, I have attended funerals of loved ones and a majority of them were interned with the rights of the Masonic Lodge.

My mother was a quiet practicing Rosicrucian Presbyterian. If you look on my Fedbook profile, I label myself a Zen Presbyterian. Does this preclude me from changing from one faith to another? No. My brother married a Christian Arab and converted to her faith, meaning their kids would be raised in that faith. Today, both his adult children are not practicing their childhood faith with all its ceremonial stuff – one because she married a Methodist yet they found a common ground faith for themselves and their two kids – Episcopal, and the other is without a church. Spirituality is the clue. Now, this does not mean, we did not attend church together (Canyon Lake, Texas). It does mean we do not all take communion there, if ever.

Would a Muslim be welcome at my family’s many events, or into our fold? Of course, and any other faith, although I do think those who worship Satin or fall into a far right conservative bent would find it possible to get past my brother, the steadfast gate keeper at the front door. Would I change my traditional faith if I was to marry someone? Not a problem, because as long as love and peace are the guts of the religiosity what difference can it make? Do not ask the question, would the man change is faith to mine as it is a dumbo query if you understood what I have written so far in this piece.

I read sacred texts everyday and live in a most beautiful place. I am blessed with friends here on FB and beyond who follow their heart’s understanding. I prefer to associate with those who try to surrender to a personal connection to God, yet I have friends who are agnostics (I married one, my deceased God bless him husband) or act as ye of no faith.

We, in solidarity, hopefully are attempting to practice the principles of humanity at every turn and twist while resident on the blue marble. I do take issue with a lack of practiced humanity – such as war and oppression. As, I contend unless Homo sapiens make a quantum leap toward the light of global understanding, too soon, we will exterminate ourselves. And, no this moire of mine is not a precept of being a Presbyterian, yet for the record 85% of the dudes who signed the American Declaration of Independence were Presbyterians.

We each find our way, or stay lost. This is our prerogative and is labeled free will in most religions.

Screen shot 2013-10-01 at 5.37.00 PMGod protect the innocent.

Bon’s Birthday Blues

In a couple of twenty-four hours, I will be another year older. Wiser is a giveaway. In my feathered history are several interlinking acts but then again I have been around for a while. Fortuitous and determination hobbled together by a wobbly sense of honor (maybe read humor) provides a widening cornfield of endeavors. Sure, one can encapsulate these under one paisley umbrella – creativity. Writing is the prim Donna.

Self-absorption (the bane of writers and introverts) and painting (international stamp illustrator) was thrown under the speeding BMW ragtop in favor of in depth observation and eager yakking. Words are me enthusiastically talking, although if you are a neo-regular at this high noon oasis I feign I am a scribe for some ancient mariner from another planet. Right Hoopoe?

The past weekend was a murky watershed. These are rare or maybe I am not paying attention to the other intrusions of change. In my review of the last twelve months of Bonnie, I am looking at long days and shorter nights of acceptance. Death, grief, political madness, finca plantings, birding, persecution of the many by the elite, and did I mention birds – covers it. One can throw in the fact my Fedbook page is closing in on 5,000 friends and turn on the VitaMix.

Let us be real, I do not have 5,000 friends, and how the hell did Zuckerface come up with this number as a max anyway? What Al Gore rhythm was infused in the matrix to divine 5,000? What I do have are a sordid number of hunting predatory men daily hitting on me, a few hundred fellow political junkies and other aware intellects, and a catcher’s mitt full of actual face-to-face friends, along with two family members.

Getting back to why the surge of men is like climbing Mt. Everest in a bikini. Why males think the Net provides them a keen opportunity to be rude dudes with salacious come-ons is the abuse of the freedom of speech – pointed out by an articulate savvy FB friend in his comment. It is not like going to a bar in your best slut suit and expecting men to not ask you if you want a drink. One can leave the location, or in FB-speak block the dunderhead. I have not been in a dive or hustle bar in 30 years, I further counsel this is not a viable place to find one’s soul mate unless you are there to change matching horses (read stallions?). Why was I there 30 years ago? Fern bars where big then, and we gathered in these to discuss politics and other poorly devised nonsense.

Currently, there are three articles sitting on my desktop needing attention – one is a nifty comprehensive history on Scottish

independence, another is about what are the forever

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innards to a man and woman in an exceptional relationship, and the third is under wraps.

The unwanted male burps are an unending interruption and certainly annoying. There is one gentleman I would like to receive regular contacts, but do not, so there is the knife churning the butter.

Age in women is supposed to mean you are no longer attractive – enough. Maybe this year at this newfound age, I will discover how to conduct myself so I am not a moving target. I doubt it. Happy Birthday to me.