Status Quo is a Poor Praxis

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#Justice seekers come in a range of colors, sizes, shoe style, brain ability, heart expanse, and head gear. A few generate golden halos, yet most are hopefully involved to drudge and purge for the greater good. What has perplexed me for decades roaming around the edges of the power elite is how sustaining remains the Peter Principle* in leadership. How come resumes and vitae are more important than the strength of innards, innate mettle or a high index reading on a compassion meter? I realize it is who you know, not what you are that propels one forward into Murica’s civil society leadership. This is not news – ask any recent #Yale or #Harvard grad how they expect to get their career launching position.

#America suffered a head-on collision when it fell in love with corporate paid academics, corporate consultants, and politically handsome adept talkers (read bullshitters). Cultural creative problem solving and multitude deployment of common sense went out with a tsunami tidal surge of greed and fear in favor of public conformity (read miniaturizing of the soul) to maintain generational status quo as the be all, end all. Do not read what follows as if i am anti-tradition, for i am in many aspects of my perspective a thumper for the observance of rituals and an advocate of heritage of family, culture, and community.

What brings me to this rant is reviewing a govt. board of leaders in NY State who manage energy policy. I was researching their bios and their spouses bios – this is normal for me to look for the usual bedrock of nepotism and overt cronyism. Every single one of these folks I bet at age 17 was a dynamic individual in waiting. They then went out into society and subsequently bought into the empire’s paradigm of following the leaders who follow the leaders to become the leaders.

Getting the big bucks wearing suits taking up space on the bench is a lifestyle. Never solving quickly the systemic problem is the institution. What i call ‘the get along to go along m.o.’ to win the five bedroom home on the cul-de-sac. These elephantine feeding fests define and divine America’s postulates for the good life. A good education barely evolves toward innovation let along pushing the culture forward toward equality and balance. Americans seeking shelter and #Armani sell out stuck in fear believing they are doing it for family and flag. It is a convenient play to cultivate same same.

Recently, I raised a query with an activist journalist how a newbie activist was a lifelong consultant for the business as usual mind f*cks who are destroying Earth. Her response was classic, “Well, everybody has to make a living.” Then she went on to explain her time served for Big Pharma. Justification is fate?

I too slaved for the #empire as a creative director and whipper snapper VP for the third largest ad agency on the planet. But, then one cloudy day, not that old, I got up and walked out leaving projects in the lurch and future lawsuits pending (regarding performance contracts). I am unsure what was my exiting epiphany. It was a foggy morning by the city by the bay. I could not see a damn thing through the giant windows of the 22nd floor corner office I was inhabiting – except a yukky putrid yellowish grayish color. Somehow, this highrise view triggered massive pings of consciousness and conscience. Or maybe, it was the manifestation of the pineal gland seeing not just looking. It was one of my better life changing decisions.

Ethical regards is a term i use, but not like cotton candy or to slather up the room replete in too many memories. It means something significant because without values American humanity would be nothing but cash machines and shopping sprees. Oh, you noticed, too, eh?

The entire argument over a $15 per hour wage is ridiculous. No one can live on that, or less, inside mall brained, credit-card scared, war-binging America. Let us get real. It take more constant ingenuity and astute daily emergency planning to live at the poverty level than any Wharton School of Business grad has ever known. A living wage is available at $100K annually, for everybody, if we awake and take the throttle away from the war mongering overseers.

About 50 million Americans live below the poverty line, which the federal government defined in 2013 as an annual income of $23,550 for a family of four. In 2007, the year before Obama took office, the poverty rate was 12.5 percent. There are an estimated 320 million Americans. The American diaspora (expats living overseas, like me) is estimated between 3 and 7 million, but i would venture the number is growing exponentially. Those living in extreme poverty inside the US of Constant Wars ($2 per day) is up 159% since 1996 at a current estimated 1.85 million.

Cutting to the front of the flock – there should be citizen activists not caught in the corporate trap serving on every govt. ruling body in America. They should be appointed but not by resume, merit, hair style, friendships, or social relevancy. They are there because they exhibit a value structure of endurance not cooked by ego, familial or political connections. They are connected because they are noisy advocates for life. We use to call these citizens advisory committees but what I am proposing is a realignment of leadership, from middle to top to bottom. We would not junk competition and ego ambition but insert into the human equation of paying it forward thoughtful folks with passionate ethics and raging empathy.

Resumes never told me anything mind blowing about a person, but then again I had portfolios to review, music to listen, and writing samples to read.

In my idealism as commandeer of the wholistic world where ethics over ride greed, every single govt. appointed board would include members who were not from the prevailing status quo. The new blood might be everyday Joe or Jill citizen or a far out artist – but each exhibits a fresh vision for his or her community. They are the people who refuse to accept what it is under the pretense of that is all there is, and why change it. They look for the simple pathway through the mazes of the bureaucracy because they have survived it to the best of their imaginative ability.

Too many of us are taught sheepskin dullness is sparkling and we acquiesce to the power structure constrained by its own pitiful inane smallness. Wholism is expansive – it is experimental, it is harmony, it is energy. Education is not limited to residing in the artificial lit halls of demagoguery, academia, or cubical corporations. Some of the most inspiring appeals i witnessed at the podium originated from ‘regular’ folks who used common sense coupled to simple organizing of thoughts. They saw from the original light with no special interest pulsing from the darkness “do this, not that.”

Pettiness is inherent in organizations designed to exist ad infinitum. This is why term limits are vital to a living govt. No one should be elected in govt, appointed to govt. posts, or serve in govt. without a sunset clause. For a US Senator or Representative to hold court for anything more than 12 years is a set-up for situations of control and narrowness as it is sadly human nature to fuss protecting a dominion once it becomes solidified.

Change is pandered about as not normal for humans. This is a crock of crap. We are the most adaptable species on this gorgeous blue marble. If you doubt it, look at the abject shit people put up with in the ever widening spectrum of horror shows. We know how to change. The empire sells this status quo myth to keep the service economy plantation working and the war machines pumping out profit for the elite. It repeats constantly (at least in the western world) this is how you get ahead in life. You follow form. You conform to what is expected and viola you excel in life. This is the ‘you are what you drive’ mythology of contemporary existence in prozac nation.

Every artist, scientist, thinker, doer, believer, and tinker who does not buy into the mental madness of conformity succeeds. They innovate. They create. They solve the problem. They excel. They become their dreams.

What are you waiting for? Nothing changes if nothing changes.

“Change unleashes people’s creative energy.”

*The Peter Principle is a concept in management theory formulated by Laurence J. Peter in which the selection of a candidate for a position is based on the candidate’s performance in their current role, rather than on abilities relevant to the intended role. Thus, employees only stop being promoted once they can no longer perform effectively, and “managers rise to the level of their incompetence.”

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Why Abrogating is Shitty for the Human Soul

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Happy Sunday from Latitude Nine. The weather at 10 AM is a very high overcast, temperature 79 F degrees, and humidity 58 with a slight breeze from the northeast instead of the normal oceanic southwest.

Negativity is in its tail dragging devilish regard – a tail spin addiction. People are swept up by negativity and from a psychological perspective constant angst serves the ego with a complicated series of escape routes as a way to uphold weak esteem and not feel the entire gamut of human emotion from intimacy to aesthetic appreciation. Much of anguish is borderline neurotic as if the personality is incapable of realizing the benefit of being aware able to discover and practice harmony.

There is a definitive overload most of us reach when inundated with constant crap. Some install faith, prayer, paying it forward, and giving love to the least fortunate in one’s midst while others roll around in the pessimism impugning their entire living sphere with invalidation. Yes, negativity is a dramatic sign the persona is not integrated. It is a human being fractured disavowing good vibes and rejecting internal and external affirmation. Drama queens, we all know some, are hung up – they feed the nugatory to manifest a control point because they are weak in self-conceptualization yet their eyes glisten to telling the latest chunk of gossip.

Too many westerners were sadly programmed as a child by a gainsayer who put us down (and everything else) and consequently never experienced compassion in the form of compliments and deep hugs of appreciation. The dysfunction was thick and ran deep. These emotionally beaten kids grew up to emulate their role models, and so forth, as the generations of gloom and doom move through history. Some are intensely disguised in dour driven intellectual rhetoric or political commentary gone amok. Then there are the child rapists who were raped themselves as toddlers and choir boys. The repetitiveness of insanity is human development/devolvement for thousands of years.

How to change the paradigm is why we are here – now.

The empire is well aware of our antagonist denial and uses our inherent mass of spirally puke to empower in reverse. What is in actuality the basis of life – living the entire spectrum of human experience including joy and being free is replaced with the staid of status quo. Lately, stalling happiness within humanity by constant under the boot austerity delivered by fake saviors (war mongers Sanders, Obama, etc) etc., had a tipping point – 9/11 – to kickoff an age of digital cynics from intellectuals to the man in the pulpit to the conspiratorial nut jobs we all read here on FB.

To keep the madness afoot, the disseminated snews in America is mostly one god-awful story after another. Human interest reporting is nearly a dead art because we have a far reaching genocide to the heart operating in Murica. Fourteen years of war does that to people. Fear feeds it and one nation under alienation is its shield.

Social media is a macro of the dissentient. When i review the latest rolling news feeds on FB it is one horrific circumstance after aother or one more Holly-go-Lightly meme. Substance is lacking as is authentic glee let alone the personal touch. I try and find loving people who are telling their stories using their own words or images. I am in the middle of the teeter tower. I leak and seek peeling the stinky onion yet at the same time I hope I serve up dishes of pleasurable wonder about radiant nature. My vision is filtered through birds and flipping both sides of the coin of the FB realm by adding a wink of humor glued to the delivery.

Being carefree is a calling. I am not talking about glad-handers or faux happy faces. I mean folks who actually are not souring the world with daily meals of subjugation. Free loving brilliant people who generally remit the creative delights of life are becoming a rarity. Maybe this is why the price of the master’s fine art at auctions is astronomical?

Trolling, cyber bullying, and other digital poisoned arrows to the heart are on the rise. The matrix is running a spectrum of awfulness where kindness and civility are not at the reins of human conduct. I hover over Fedbook and perceive what an incredible opportunity for humanity to become border-less and lose our competitive enslaving robes and lowering our shields.

If we are forced by our own insecurity into control by others or become sneering putdown gatekeepers we become cogs instead of sparks of humankind innovation. If we are flattened in the middle of the pot-holed road by steam rollers of stupidity and cleverly repressed rage it is our responsibility to change our attitudes and end the manipulations – within and without.

Being victimized by our own mind is sabotage of the heart. The personality is designed by a higher power to be grateful and in sync. Our consciousness is not to act like herded sheep- rather we are here to accept and share the gift of happiness. You want a current events role model for hope and positiveness? Look at those stuck in blown-up rubble or packed like sardines on a vessel sinking toward distant shores – as they have not succumbed to the persistent whip of human insanity. In 2015, we are all refugees, of one kind or another?

In a looming pervasive sense of hope, determining one’s attitude adjustment is about “how important is it?”

The Center of Concentric Circles Coincide (Mandala-thinking, again)

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My personal preference is delicacy and finery of #concept, #image, #heart, #love, and human beings. I do not do well with leering primitives of our species nor do I find anything in common with folks exhibiting little empathy or lacking a natural compassion for beauty and wild beings. Innovative design is another hang-up of mine – be it architecture, furniture, graphics, food, political commentary, faith in a higher power, or friendships. Yep, aesthetics is a value way outside the lines of art. Art is life. Life is art.

Yet, in this crude unfolding people-speak you and i share in social media to rise above the non-dearth of meta-noise is not particularly artsy or elegant. One’s whispering voice in the multi-lateral matrix dangles over an abyss of apathy. This computerized web mess is way larger that the size of the Pacific clogged up with oscillating plastic crap we throw away. Speaking of human crapola – what do the Blue Whales think of our caca in their liquid world? Has anyone bothered to ask?

Sidebar factoids of the day: The biggest recorded Blue Whale was a female in the Antarctic Ocean that was 30.5 m long (more than 3.5 times the length of a double-decker bus and as long as a Boeing 737 plane) with an estimated weight of 144 tonnes (almost the same as 2,000 men !). In the wild whales live for a long time – generally the larger species living longest. Bowhead Whales spend their lives in cold Arctic waters. They may be the world’s oldest mammals and are the longest lived of all whales – possibly over 200 years !

If only humans lived in quaint tree lined villages where chiming bells from the local 11th century cathedrals drew them to the park plazas to discuss, socialize, and eat gourmet organic foodie items while dancing to extraordinary music played by carefree minstrels. Where no pesticides were used and plastic bags were banned.

I know. My imaginary hardscape of words is taxing as I ding dong my oneness ideals. But shit, compared to the real horror shows is it not at least a loverly mind space where both jasmine scented candlelight and LED lit ceilings of alabaster beckon us with uncensored moments of unity and serenity?

Can we not discover a common ground of consciousness where gentleness and strength coincide in harmony with all living creatures and the planet we inhabit? Where Muslim and Christian and Jews and Buddhists and Hindi embrace and hold each other up with mutuality and paying it forward. Where every possible version of religiosity and those living in three quarter time (what i call atheists) can at least live side by side without blowing each other up?

This past weekend a number of people who reside in #MENA (Middle East North Africa) asked me, “Why do #Americans hate #Muslims? Why does #Obama kill Muslims? When will the wars to kill Muslims end?” I can the answer the first two quite readily quoting chapter and verse, yet the third pained query has me stymied.

WHEN WILL WE FRIGGIN’ STOP OUR WARS? UMM? Is the collective human dysfunction so out of whack there is no opportunity to globally live our lives the next seven generations without madness? My quest is not for permanent disarmament, just the next seven generations we commit to lay down our rage and our bias, and try and live together without destruction and mayhem.

Okay, if seven is too much, how about five, or three, or just one?

Meet me in the park by the bandstand made from #fractals to figure out how to install peace. If we can’t do it naturally, maybe we can do it mechanically with x’s and o’s?

Damselfly Dreams

Screen shot 2015-07-02 at 11.23.43 AMTwenty-seven traveling partners kettled slowly moving southward, sky-based. They swirl and twirl. The thermals lift them upwards and sideways as their wings and tails adjust here and there in the invisibility of life wanting to live. The back of a perfected yellow flower illuminated by filtered sunlight casts a buttery shadow as a breathing cord of glistening leaves and woody vine supports the advent of its bloom and its willing sisters. Gently the entire living apparatus ever so slightly moves with the breeze welcoming another day of morning sun and probably drenching rains by mid-afternoon.

Three dogs spread out in contented sleep on cooling terracotta tiles of a covered veranda above the jungle expanse by the Pacific. Waterfalls and buzzing hummingbirds are louder than the opening of flowers or wheezing companion canines. The trilling call of tinamou announces the light intruding into the surrounding rainforest as the blazing star and spinning planet discuss life at latitude nine. The metal roof crinkles and cracks expanding and contracting from the same little cosmic dwarf of sustaining energy.

Humans forgot how to watch and hold reverence for life, or maybe they never learned. Instead of connecting with the magnetics of the web they trample, bulldoze, dig, drill, and leave their enomous footprints upon a pristine terraform. They seem dulled, disputed, and damp of soul. If a spark of interdependent wonder could be ignited, a collective spirit of oneness activated, maybe their species extinction could be averted. Karma has already left the collapsing buildings in urban centers and institutiions of ‘higher learning’.

Those paying attention realize the non-mystery of human madness stems from a manifesting self-will-gone-amuck, cancerous and lethal. In the evolutionary bio-diverse pathway Homo sapiens, too rude, too crude, too fat with fate, stand stuck at the threshold to the doorway of mindfulness. Unable to gleefully parade into a surging paradise – one with all living things – they groan and burp overstuffed with arrogance and unwillingness. For the few observing life in the here and now, sensing a pervasive polluting disconnect there is roaring clarity not a gap in conscience. The compassionate feel the wholeness of life, yet an expanding mourning weights them at the ankles. How sad. What a waste of gliding potential and unrequited empathy.

All humanity has to do is enact a series of simple tasks philosophers and sages have advised for thousands of years. But the majority of the largest brained mass are ruled by their innate stupidity pulled down by addictive primitive fears. They produce generation upon generation of woeful workerbees and overseers compliant to force fed lies and deadened to the scented alluring magic of life. Tools superseded being. Conquering supplants paying it forward.

While the human world blows each other up, piercing their non-exclusive global nest with toxic waste, and intellectually patronizing all remains peaceful where the damselfly dreams. Never-safe in the outpost of beauty and serenity far away from human crapola the natural world cleverly with no bravado lives and dies, as it has powerfully done for eons.

If the primal lesson of humanity is to be humble like the soaring migrating birds of prey and splashy colors of flowers it is mostly unheeded except for the rare ones – the innocence of toddlers and the evitability of enligtened elder wisdom. Every living thing is in remarkable chaotic sync except most humans. Every inhale and exhale of life exists in interparlay linkage as if not a big deal. It is what it is from meta-universe to dark energy to God particle. Acceptance is cognizant in some jubliant with play such as brotherly sisterly dolphins and in others it is an endless steady cyclic journey such as army ants on Colorado Isle in Panana or one galaxy slow-mo consuming another.

Love, a precious commodity, in lieu of shields lowered, waits. Peace, amongst human nations nearly non-existent, stands ready. The damselfly, seeking a water spring and possible dragonfly sprite, dodges and hovers. God consciousness, limitless and eternal envelopes the comos with neither judgment nor comment, encompassing worlds inside worlds. The silly human mindscape of pieces of cloth signifying bigotry or nationalism, or delivering pendantic statements how same sex combos are unholy (in nature there is every conceivable sexuality) or this today’s human horror show, are vain transients in the greater and greatest scheme of life wanting to live.

We exist as one. We are yin yang life in solidarity including being magnetically repelled. Why is the dance of oneness such a tough concept for the highest IQ beings on the third rock?