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 15 Jun 2004 @ 10:12, by jazzolog. Relationships
Preparing food is not just about yourself and others. It is about everything.
---Shunryu Suzuki
A thief entered the house of a Sufi and found nothing there to steal. As he was leaving, the dervish, sensing his disappointment, threw him the blanket on which he had been lying.
---Sa'di
Fishermen have hauled their nets and gone.
The crows of dusk, in pairs, all flown.
Young moon, a tattered fan,
Thin clouds, a ragged gown.
---Tu Fu
The photo, taken by Ivy Clear, is of the author, on the road and a bit zonked in the summer of 1971. This would make the man, despite all appearances, aged 31!
There are times of loneliness, brought on by and/or bringing on the use of intoxicating substance, when one can feel a bond of friendship with that bottle, that pipe, that syringe. Ever since the first primitive man fell face down into a puddle of some kind of fermentation, and came up with a feeling of giddy well-being, men have wondered about this sense of relationship---and sometimes even given it a name or worshipped it as a god. Tribal man was very careful about it, and only designated holy people or times of the year that were appropriate for altered state indulgence. Violations were extreme taboo. In our society, where every man with money in his pocket is king and shaman, and every woman at least priestess of her medicine cabinet, a little fling can be anyday, all day. More >
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 1 Jan 2004 @ 03:33, by magical_melody. Relationships
Solara 2004 Overview for the year.
The Year of the Monkey. (Chinese Year - Some Information)
Is he the one on your back, or the trickster simply trying to get your attention? More >
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8 Oct 2002 @ 11:21, by sharie. Relationships
I lived and worked in downtown Chicago, in its oasis of wealth along the coast of beautiful Lake Michigan.
I lived in a hi-rise and worked in another hi-rise along the Magnificent Mile. Across the street from my office building was a famous museum with marble floors, famous paintings and even more famous sculptures... all were hundreds and hundreds of years old.
Inside the buildings and on the sidewalks, men carrying briefcases, wearing business suits and expensive shoes, who drove luxury cars, and no doubt lived in homes costings hundreds of thousands of dollars, were rushing from place to place.
Some of the men were lawyers, some were Judges, earning $5,000 to $100,000 every month, on average.
Yes, there were women, but most were men.
It was all very impressive and respectable.
Just around the corner and down the street, lived babies and children in public housing, the *squalor* of inhumanity.
In these war zones for children, they learned at an early age, that life was hell. They were treated like worthless trash, and they learned that *life* was worthless.
Just down the street and around the corner was that famous museum, with the famous paintings and even more famous sculptures.
And there was I, a Forensic Psychologist, paid by the State to conduct psychological interviews, psychological tests, psychological assessments and to write report recommendations to the Court Judges.
There I was in the middle, between the war zone for children treated like worthless trash and that posh marbled-floor museum with their works of art, and those dashing lawyers and Judges in their business suits rushing to meetings to proclaim their value, their entitlement to public funds which the public paid to help the children.
We were all blind and stupid.
The *real* works of art are the children.
Rather than public funding going to the pockets of *lawyers representing the State" and "lawyers representing the child" and the Court Judges... rather than public funding going to the pockets of Psychologists and Social Workers, none of whom did anything to help the children, all this money should be used to provide decent housing for the children. Not segregated buildings where they'd be set apart as "the poor" but in half-way homes in small towns, which would cost half the price of the inner-city slums (built by politicians so they'd have *voters*). The new half-way homes would have a working stove and refrigerator, and a house-mother to help with the cooking and childcare, so the children could get the nurturing and nutrition they need.
In that moment of insight, I lost respect for my culture. I lost respect for my profession. I lost respect for lawyers, for Judges, for politicians, for teachers, for everyone greedily grabbing for their share... while the children are relegated to filth and abuse.
Children are the *real* works of art, and until they are treated *better* than the paintings and sculpture, we are not a civilization, but a bunch of blithering idiots.
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