Beware the Cutting Culture of Hatred in Social Media

#Gaza has risen to the unsullied status of a primal initiator of human awareness almost exclusively because of cyber social networking around the globe. Few, even the edgy know-it-all pundits of PressTV, Aljareeza, or AlterNet, foresaw the depth and width of such a collective social conscience tsunami by humanity.


We are subjected, if we chose, to see, hear, and read minute-by-minute, blow-by-blow, of what is happening to the people of Gaza by the State of Zion. The Zionist’s Israel Defense Forces (#IDF) horrors leveled onto Gazans are tweeted faster than the Arab Spring at its peak. The tool of humanity is now an ever-expanding global technology to become friends with Gazans, and each other Screen shot 2014-07-30 at 12.55.08 PMin solidarity. The alignments of those for Gaza and those for Israel is a demarcation line of remarkable height and continues to enlarge and fester within the narrative, hearts, and minds of those hip to what is happening.


Here is my red flag, and it is not a red herring. There is an enormous potential for hatred by our species at our species. Gaza is a watershed for human wakefulness and/or revelation of how close the four horses are to our souls. IF we buy into the us vs. them, we are perpetuating the ancient human odium of difference and intolerance.


A trained adept nosy journalist tells the whole basic story, the good, the bad and the sludge and slime. Sometimes the factual account is compelling and strikes primordial cords of humanity, most of the time it is snews news lasting about ten seconds in an undulating funky universe of reportage. Social media has changed the parameters of news. No longer do we have to wait for the nightly TV show or delivery of the morning newspaper. We can turn on our machines and instantly see what is happening, or not.


In our Orwellian world, we have instant compassion, and instant hatred. Now we review constant accurate current events and unremitting propaganda. Many of us have morphed from policy professors, social psychology thinkers, and political analysts to social news media providers and guru bloggers, Fedbook timeliners, and Tweeters. We post, we comment, we chat and we use Google to offer an ongoing running stream of what is happening shaded by our particular worldviews and techno abilities.


Because we are human, and not merely x’s and o’s invariably egos become larger than life, and writing talent is subjected to little editing as the passion of the moment feeds the relentless human nature of I want what I want now.


Content farms have replaced in depth reporting driven by Twitter with its 140 characters and those who play games on line as if it was real life.


Dating, the human contact of procreation and love has itself been corrupted by on-line connections. Everyday, I receive new friends and followers and every week one more man hitting on me, on line. The fact most of these male cyber friends follow the faith of Islam (or were born to same) is a story for another blog submission.


Today, the focus is uncomfortable and highly tender for many. Our species hates maybe better than it loves and social media provides the verdant fertile soil to grown such endless possibilities.


Frankly, I am an ex-pat American who chose and selected a country to live in with no military and a magnificent biodiversity because my third eye was bloodied from banging my head against the establishment. I earned the right to tell my body politic story through the several decades I served my fellow Americans as Democrat Party committeewoman, white paper writer, campaign advisor, manager, and candidate for office on 9/11 in New York.


My political pedigree goes back when I was treasurer for SDS at San Jose State and UC Berkeley. I wrote a political column called, Why War? Why Now? for the Free Press and constant letters to the editor of Daily Californian including several editorial pieces. My mug was on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle newspaper causing my father to go into apoplexy and threaten my career plans to refuse to help finance my doctorate.


Therefore, for the record, I am not a newbie to the politics of reality. Yesterday, is not when I did logged onto my Twitter account or a Faceline and decided to become the latest ‘authority’ on why hate America. I sat in more political meetings than probably most of US Congress. I still can pick up the phone and talk directly to a handful of the politically connected people in America. Not because I am a wise critic with public forums via social networking, rather because these people are personal friends who like me continue to believe in the American way of freedom for all.


Over the years, I observed one pandit after another, they come and go. The specialist with mettle and originality remain in the landscape of political discourse, not because they are pretty faces or write a great line of bullshit. These unique humans become respected intellectuals and foreign policy analysts because they have a glow about them – the truth.


Faceline (Facebook) has about 1.4 billion opportunities for each of us who chose to swim in this ramous ocean. The number in this social network and combinations of it is very astronomical compared to 100 US Senators and the staff Secretary of State John Kerry is allocated. The on-line numbers game is a marketer’s wet dream, yet as always we break down into segments, niches, and even focus groups. It is human nature for those of the same ilk to prefer to hang with their own kind – even in politics.


Those who follow me on Fedbook, or here, or on Twitter, are far more eclectic in their perspectives and certainly not stuck in one particular bag of political manifestation. The message I deliver is hopefully one of a higher consciousness with a twist – I am foremost a peacenik and thumper for freedom, justice, bread, and creativity. My goal is not to attract or attack through hostility or gather up those sodden with detestations.


The trail to my home cabina comes out of the jungle and onto a view spot where one can see for miles and miles. Here one can look way down into the valley below, the jungle mountains to the right and left, and on the widening horizon is the Pacific Ocean. Finca Vigia is a living vibrant eco-system part of the MesoAmerican Biological Corridor known as the Path of the Tapir. The air, water, soil, and other life giving components of the finca are the foundation for my perspectives. We are where we live, in social media and daily lives, played out to the nuances and the Meta changes.


Some would venture I deserve such a reprieve and others wonder how I can afford this luxury point of view. Such an explanation is meaningless. I am here as grace and grief arrived too close together. It is private.


Beyond the mega view opportunities, the serenity of this vital patch grows within me. After seven years, I am semi-content my words and insights are melded.


I am not a projectionist but I am intuitive enough to seek safe harbor before attempting to match my measly might with nature’s oceanic and global forces. Peace is not some sweet word I deploy to con or entice. My noisy spirit is unskilled, gentle, and yet resilient. Anger and loud voices or even too lively debate has lost its mind-bending allure. I do not need to argue to ram it down your throats. I prefer the unshackle sound of temple bells, the windy conversation of bamboo, the elegant mating songs of birds, and the chirts of geckos. In my childhood, I grew up with beauty, wind chimes, hummingbird feeders, with glorious gardens and fruit trees – nothing changed.


Here is an unsolicited sermon. You can click off, or read on and then feel superior, or in sync – this is the purview of social media and human endeavor. Some of us eat an organic apple in the garden and others poison the tree of life’s roots.


As we move forward on the continuum of our ailing species, we each reach tipping points of our awareness even if we are not cognizant of these passages. At certain intervals, choices are made within our psyche. A predisposition is inherent and while academia would like to think they have the upper hand, some of the most enlightened humans on the planet sport feathers in their ash dusted hair and reside in huts in the Amazon.


Making a judgment, generalization, or flailing punt is never my intent. Lately, I am asked my opinion. of this or that. I offer an honest evaluation, not some smooch. Shallowness is not intrinsic in my gene pool and we are adept critics to a familial fault. Writing from one’s heart requires brutal honesty and the removal of ego otherwise what spews forth is more crap, and for shits sake there is enough human caca to fill up Jupiter.


What has come to bear, is in my concerted effort to offer merely one more of my infinite number of personal opinion, after I do so, I get a heave of personal attacks. I stand still, Tai Chi (and other body, mind, spirit lessons) teaches this methodology. Being a moving target when one runs for political office also is its own awareness teacher on how to handle denunciation. My personality is not reactive, nor do I fear. Serenity and sobriety is a gift and a kind of insurance policy for mental health. Therefore, I do not get up on my hind legs to fight back the slams. I mean these people asked me for my opinion, and when I provide it then they want to react. I suppose the way out of this box canyon is to take wing and fly to bluer skies. I dunno. I am at odds at times. Detachment with love is a difficulty I learned – it was not intrinsic. I am not unsighted. I see clearly. Grace and peace within provides one the signature of compassion. When I do not know what to do, I wait. Time in itself provides a salve for discontent and room for a power greater than my self to act. If I attempt to keep my thumb and brain in the equation the sore, the emotional wound, of the other becomes even more tender and painful. Dysfunction is a hunger for same.


Self-loathing arrives in as many forms as the brain of a human can conjure. We see this sadly in those who hate Arabs because they are not Jews. We see this in pundits who cannot decipher the difference between foreign policy and people within the society. They hate Americans, America, and US Congress. I am subtler and maybe because I am an American I find such an all-evasive concept politically lubricious. Yet, logic emanating from the soul, would yelp what the empire delivers is disgusting and down right evil. Nevertheless, the people of the country are not some race of lizards and ignorant entities. At times, the system, the establishment, is unreachable (remember my third eye comment) because the life it has taken on is beyond simplistic reordering. The entire quagmire in America will continue until it needs to – then the civilization of America will come back into a fresher set of balances, yet based on the ole way of seeing.


To those ranting, punditzing, and praying America goes down like a herd of buffalo nuked, you either are piggly wiggly colored or find joy in human conflict. Yes, I hold council with the humanity of America and it is not some off the wall tea bager allegiance. The foundation of the American political system is better than any other on Earth. The fact it is suffering from a proliferation of greedy basturds and numb nuts is temporary insanity.


In politics, you survive or you go down behind your misplaced loyalties and misunderstandings. The art of politics requires delineation from policy and humanity. Just because SCOTUS acts with stupidity does not mean the entire body politic is in line or polluted with such ignorance. The corporatocracy are imploding body more Swiss cheese than solid steel. The economics of the world must change as their fiat money system is on life support. The dirty oil paradigm has brought us to a global precipice.


It is fashionable to hate America and several social media sources feed into this because it drives their own agendas. I do not hate. I find this emotion as self-defeating as it is species defeating. Balance requires being aware of one’s proclivities where the ego takes lead and the spirit is bent to self will run riot.


Within me, or you, is kindness for all living things. If you buy into hatred for any part of life on Earth, you are murdering the very core of our collective. We are not here to hate. Sacred texts teach to love your enemy. I find it conducive to not perceive anyone as my enemy. With this simple act of contrition, I am personally usually released from spinning out negative energy and empowering hatred by giving it recognition.


Those who find it necessary to incessantly compete with me, or you, through words and ideas without the subtleties of harmony are lost in a faked self-importance maze of their own making. Self-assured authenticated humans do not need to activate sense of self by producing reams of evidence they know more than the other. The adage of what is it they trying to proof too intently surfaces. My elegiac goal is simpler. I attempt to be present in the here and now for peace. If you think it is handy or necessary to try to convince me, otherwise you are on a fool’s errand. Serenity is not of my making. Inner peace stems from one connected throughout human time to a collective of compassion.


In addition, believe me, I am not some maharishi of thought or consideration. I inclusively surrendered my fattened ego fashioning horse shit and moved into a realm of calmness kicking and screaming “Nope, not me”. Yet, once there paddling my sleek kayak I discovered a sea as calm as a mountain lake at dawn.


This chic wellspring neither lashes out nor gives someone the boot, yet be assured if you ask for my opinion you will receive a well-honed one based in experiences and who knows maybe even practicable insight. I do not parrot the party line nor do I allow any entity to use me as a messenger of hatred, be they friend, or supposed foe.


America, the home of the free and the brave, will rise again; we have to go down the rabbit hole to get to the inner chamber. Our bottom is close by. IF not, I sit here, as the widow on the hill secure and kind-hearted, like a maiden in honor to grace. It was never my future as divined by my altered state, yet it turns out to be way beyond graceful or merely sustaining.


God protect the innocent.


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