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.

The Real Meaning of Neck Ties

Down and Not Dirty Imagery – Yet Maybe a Taboo Topic

This is whole heartedly a human female perspective. Why do men use fireworks and real NASA rockets launched into space in their phallic glory? Why is the sword another form of the same shape? Why do men need to cut the air, and each other, and explode stuff from . . .?

Symbolism is not only about what has transpired from human culture to human art to sacred understanding. It is also the tell-tale of how innately violent men are? It is a male human’s genetic dramatic need to play war games as kids to grow up to fire drones from bunkers north of Sacramento, California (or the Pentagon or the West Wing) at wedding parties in Yemen?

Men have engineered our world for violence? Women have allowed men to engineer our world for violence? We are the cozy vessels and they are the spewing rockets?

And, do us a favor, do not take this commentary as an excuse to salaciously launch at me or any other human female, got it men?

What would happen in my scripted sci-fi series where no such shapes and forms every existed – would there then be a world of peace and joy? Would in this other blue stage digital universe exist a humanity without games where big beefy men carry, smack with a bat (yea another you know what), pass, and kick balls into end zones or into the outerfield? Would rifles, jet fighters, tanks, shoulder launchers, and other war marking horrors along with neck ties pointing to you know where never come into being? Would visionaries in this other world never picture in their hearts and minds ejecting rockets, flinging swords, and flying orbs?

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Is the reason US of Constant Wars blows up Arabs is because our totally nutso leadership deep down feels inadequate and suffers from pre-you know what?

PS. By golly, I do believe I now know why i relish my femininity and girlish ways. Yet, the above cannot be why I prefer a man’s man with an intellect the size of Brooklyn and a sense of aesthetics that would embarrass Monet, can it? Darwin was confused? God protect the innocent. More will hopefully not be revealed on this tabloid subject.

PSS. Why is the western leadership of the ‘free world’ not wearing any ties in this photo? OD-AZ371_TIES_P_20131018112425

We Are Now In The Shift

Maybe it is wishful thinking, and possibly we have reached our slogged bottom as a species, yet as we move along this continuum I am more and more assured by my wobbly heart and the birds we are now in the shift. When we entered it is not important, nor when we exit. Being in the here and now is an act of faith. The old crappy paradigm that enslaves and destroys is going down and you and I, the impractical dreamers, the writers, the sharers, the artists, the philosophers, the linkers, the lovers of life and Earth, and the creative seeking humans amongst other living beings – we sense this momentous time is underway as a collective no longer individuals sitting on our corn flakes. Put your fears aside, and your wishy washy crapola, and be grateful for the gathering of the kinder tribes for what is and what will be. To live during this evolutionary consciousness expansion is neither conspiratorial nor gratuitous, but it is the one connectivity we all seek – to know we are one – with love and peace and togetherness the only way out of the imploding madness.

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Jungle Hermit 101

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A dear dear friend of mine is festering a meltdown in #Egypt. Recently, he returned to his homeland after living in Brazil for over two years. He is a political writer and a stone merchant who is exceedingly over educated (English Literature, Univ. of Cairo) and has lived as both a pauper and a millionaire. My psychological profiling is he is suffering from culture shock. He no longer has any identity with his contemporary homeland. There is nothing in its current format of #Sisi-land he upholds, respects, or can feel connected to in Egypt.

When I go to alien nation #America, I try and focus on the joys of my family and different bird habitats and turn away from the invasive geography of nowhere and chronic consumerism. We go to museums as a family, church, celebrations, and so forth. I sit and talk with my brother about ideas and concerns. He and I go out on the lake in his boat for a entire day and barely talk because we are comfortable with each other = and we remember Capt. Arthur. I visit with friends and we talk about food, art, music, birds, freedom, gardens, books, movies, inspiring concepts and how to make the world a better place. What I do know is each time I return to my homeland, i am becoming more and more a stranger in a strange land called faux America. My beautiful family are secure and blessed. They operate in an intelligent universe of success, goals, and love.

It appears to them I am living as a semi-happy jungle hermit although my brother gets on my case for not painting. This is mostly true, residing here on Finca Vigia has not dramatically altered my focus only intensified it, yet, hopefully cleansed most of the caca inserted into me by a home culture wrongly based in corporate state big, bigger, and biggest.

I tried for years to change the systemic rotting core from inside the body politic at a local to state level in Gringolandia. I worked 100-hour weeks to create and build small businesses that exemplified aesthetics and a political and social philosophy I think was meaningful. My class act attorney husband was there to support me with his maturity, compassion, and wisdom, and I supported his efforts every which way possible. We accomplished in love a lot, and then we became moving targets.

Close friends have heard me tout, “I know I have one more run,” meaning I have one more long term attempt to maybe leave a crisper legacy of joy and accomplishment. This epilogue attempt will be more finely based because civic virtue, ethics, and mystery are better integrated? See, i can clearly envision the principles of this next book, yet I have only a budding clue where or with whom. I learned some globally handy stuff out there in the community of a small seaside quaint town while serving superior espresso, planting gardens, birding, politicking, designing, boating, and fishing. My closer buddies usually look around where I am and roll their eyes, when i chatter on about what I label – my last lemonade stand.

Residing in a healing paradise and my serene life is the envy of the world. I dunno. Maybe, I need to be challenged to feel fully in tune with Pachamama? Here life is Pura Vida. Why can’t the rest of humanity on this planet know the oneness I experience without even trying? Although I suffer no pangs of guilt, my heart screams out over the horrors we inflict upon each other and Earth.

Here at Finca Vigia, oneness rolls into view, it produces glorious nature happenings – it flies by, it scents up the garden, and it constantly reminds me how elegantly simple is life when in harmony.

The truism is apparently correct – we are not meant to be alone. We are humans who turn moonbeams into our holy communion with the cosmos and clouds into dreamy dancing elephants and giraffes. We seem to need, but not needy, to deploy the toggle and tussle of others so we groan and grow.

On October 26, it will be one year since my husband’s ashes went into the drink (the Atlantic Ocean) off Montauk Pt., New York, in one of his favored Striped Bass angling spots. The upcoming anniversary is the closing of a fantastic chapter and verse of a life well lived. What happens next is a fresh start.

Learning how to let go, so the Creator takes the helm, is probably going to require a few more spins on the dial.

Same End-the-War Rant – Barely Any Different Spin – http://www.defense.gov/home/features/2014/0814_iraq/

US of Constant Wars is the number one terrorist entity on the planet? The lawless western war mongers have no moral values? Incoming blowback is on its way to feed the extremists?

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Bombings by the western war machines are to protect western corporate oil interests, support the arms manufacturers and the fiat monetary global casino, and wreck havoc with civil disorder so one more foreign population of citizens are forced to become refugees from chaos. End this insanity by calling for a non-violent revolution and overthrow the American corporate state.

How many more babies are to be destroyed? How many more homes to be blown up? How many more innocent become the fodder for this latest war, and the next, and, the next? I also have no support for the greedy prick Sauds who have no idea what human rights entail. I am a noisy peacenik who does not have one ounce of faith left in the international orgs such as the UN or The Court in the Hague – such stages are screen plays put on by the corrupt Lords of Hypocrisy.

In the 24/7 meantime the aging infrastructure in America crumbles and half the population become paupers but hey we got those bombers up and soon of course there will be boots on the ground no matter what spews as contrary from the oval office. This is the modus operandi of the US of Constant Wars – spy, drone, spy, bomb, spy, send in the Marines and the Navy Seals, spy, bomb, spy, send in the grunts.

In the 1776 revolution of American Independence, 40% supported the break from the *English Empire, 20% were Tories*,and the rest where undeclared. As the war for independence went on for several years (read nothing is instant if worth it) those who were undeclared joined the ranks of the revolutionaries.

Today, we do not need a war of killing and destruction in America to change the ruling paradigm. We merely have to stand up, IN SOLIDARITY, and say no to the madness and vote the bought and paid for basturds out of office and vote in a new batch of representatives who act with principles, integrity, and compassion. The Dims who became GOPS under the Clinton administration with the lunatic fringe of the far right GOPs becoming the other party are a waste of time as they are owned by their keepers. I know, I was a Democratic Party Committeewoman during many election cycles. I never supported Clinton, Obama, or Pelosi.

Do you want to change the reality of wars festered and supported by the still happening precepts of the Kissinger methodologies of business as usual? Do you want your iPad, droid driven kids to live in a faux society so mind managed and controlled by fear they march right into war after war?

I could go chapter and verse on the systemic problems of the body politic or go way entrail with neo-socio-psychological intellectual blabberings as to why we are in this forsaken horror show of war after war. The imperial basic is this – Americans stand idle. They have a comfort zone and/or a stupidfying field of no dreams.

I dunno. Maybe it is the chem trails, the toothpaste, and the GMOs crap masquerading as food while force fed nothing but paranoia bent lies from the propaganda machines.

To change the operating master’s game you have to now (not later, because there is fast approaching a climatic induced no-tomorrow scenario for our species) participate in a meaningful and kindly way to steer the narrative out of the shadows of the false flag waving.

Freedom and democracy has never truly occurred in America. We yammer on about same, yet in truth what passes for a so-called democracy/republic is nothing more than a lame version of what the principles of freedom and justice are suppose to be. The scripted reality TV show emulating from the silly city (Washington, DC, the Pentagon, Langley, etc.) has not been a beacon of sanity for some time.

I found this video (see below) on the quasi-edge of fuzzy lunacy, yet maybe we need to dangle off the perimeter of the bursting bubble to begin to think with critical mass?

Hedges on the mythology of the wealthy (see vid below). Me on the same crap.

I grew up in Napa Valley, California in a professional business class where my mother was the only female executive in a male industry. She was born to the upper classes. I excelled to upper middle class and from 1990 until 2007 lived in one of wealthiest enclaves on the planet – the Hamptons, NY.

My schooling was 100% public education but in upscale areas with college degrees from the University of California. My deceased husband never attended anything but private schools including grammar, prep school, Leigh Univ., and a law degree from NYU. He was the only child of two Manhattan working parents – his mother working in book publishing and his father owning a television production studio. College education of excellence is the keystone along with a developing vision of how you see yourself contributing to your culture not just your community.

Roots are also tantamount to establishing stability. I am the bohemian in my family, although my niece with her MFA, art studio, and university design professorship would probably say she is in this category. She is not. Why? A bohemian possesses a reclarient worldview where political, social and creativity melds. Her missing component is the civics of politics. I am explaining this personal heritage to flesh out who I am and what my mission is here on the blue marble. I respect and honor my familial heritage yet i reside outside tradition.

I am an ex-pat with a small eco-footprint residing on a glorious nature refuge in paradise. A multitude of trappings of what i formerly endured inside the consumer society was edited out in favor of a nearly pristine habitat. The expense and incessant stress of being a high roller faded into oblivion. The current homeostasis is not the final curtain as more is yet to be revealed. I am also a die heart poetic romantic who flows with the river even during flash floods.

Seeing death and being one with life is the same coin of the realm of a conscious radical. I played a good game – i won some hands – i knew the recognition and distain of my peers. My life is secure, whole, integrated, unique, and gentle yet i could do with more fun and a sense of actual community of creatives.

As a loner as a widow as a writer as a birder as an activist as an empath as a thinker as a curiosity seeker and a woman of faith i have no projections but i have an abundance of dreams. I am grateful for any forum of expression, as no creative can evolve in a vacuum. Stimuli and impetus arrive as signs and signals. The trick of emotive assimilation is to let manifestations in without being taken hostage.

People are a strange struggling necessary backboard in a goofy mutuality. We can live above the pale and suck on crystal pebbles while jogging up the mountain or stay down in the lush valleys where the creeks bubble and the buffalo meander. I am attracted to challenges and intrigue while easily made unhappy with routine and the exclusive taste of vanilla.
Groundhog days repeated over and over are hell for me. Beauty is life as art. Earth is magnificent.

Our species basically sucks. Our treatment of each other and Pachamama is deplorable. We seem to be going in reverse allowing greedy f*ckwits to rule our collective roost. Consequences from our wholesale debacle are wreaking havoc upon the innocent. Yet, the majority of us kneel to the god of ego and fear while praying for relief from a demise we generationally devise far more by apathy than activity. Blinded by the shroud we wrap our souls missing in every instance the energizing of nature and the pure joy of unfettered intimacy with others and ourselves.

Hiding in caves of poverty and victimization, we blame anything but our own inability to face fear with faith. For me, the concept of class warfare feeds the sicko paradigms of us vs. them – the standard of divide and conquer operates in the body politic of the corporate state and douses our inner collective flame for freedom and justice.

Unless you and i pull a whole gargantum of rabbits out of a global magician’s top hat our species will go extinct by our polluting gruel of manipulations, lies, and arrogance.

This is all i have to say beating this drum – resonate with Earth.

Fear is a game set to ruin compassion and turn us against each other. Bombing anything is a total act of insanity in the name of avariceness and paranoia.

I am exhausted from the harangue of media whores pumping a dozen beheadings while ignoring thousands of burnt babies.

Give me liberty or give me death.