On August 6, 1989 when the sun’s oblique rays cast long shadows of giant cedars across the railroad tracks leading into Subase Bangor, a Burlington Northern security car parked at the base gate and waited for a shipment to arrive. It was the guard’s duty to ensure safe delivery of missile propellant fuel on this anniversary of the United States’ bombing of Hiroshima. I left my home above the tracks and approached the car with a heavy heart to dialogue with the guard:
Do you realize this is the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima?
No Ma’am, I don’t.
And we wait for a train carrying fuel for more bombs to potentially kill and maim more people?
We had to drop that bomb. It saved hundreds of American soldiers.
And what about the lives of hundreds of Japanese noncombatans? Don’t you think it’s time to let go of the bombs?
They were collateral damage. We need these bombs.
And so it goes. On and on and on…. The train arrived, met by armed marines who opened the gate to escort it to the bunkers. Fuel delivered, the train reversed it’s journey. Out of sight, not out of mind or heart. I knelt on the tracks, lit sage and wept for Hiroshima and for my own collusion. We the bombers are hibakusha as much as the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As long as we make bombs with intent to use, we are a bomb-affected-people.
For Further Reflection
“This effect grants the power to cause a hurricane in China to a butterfly flapping its wings in New Mexico. It may take a very long time, but the connection is real. If the butterfly had not flapped its wings at just the right point in space/time, the hurricane would not have happened.”
Wispy tendrils of hazy smoke
from Canada’s forest fires
Lasso branches of not-so-evergreens
And the aberrant heat drapes
its humid blanket over this bed
We now must lie in.
Adam lies drowning
In a pool of lethal despair
While in Bahrain more mundane matters
Press on Ahmad and the butterfly spirals down
To The Boneyard of Indifference.
©Rita H Kowats August 3, 2017
Photo Credit: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly
Last night, as I was sleeping
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Antonio Machado, translated by Robert Bly
Bees weave their burden
In and out and in between
Ahh… Sweet Communion
© rita h kowats July 31, 2017
Beware the Jabberwock, my son,
the jaws that bite and claws that scratch…
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
Through the Looking Glass Lewis Careoll
I awoke to the shrieks
Of an avaricious vulcher
Tweeting a Tornado of Tweets
Each one trumping the next.
“Ahh, the sky is falling,
The sky is falling,”
“Put the sword down, Alice.
Tend first the vulcher
And the one outside
Dwindles to a dodo.”
c. Rita H Kowats 7-25-17
NOTE: The dodo (Raphus cucullatus) is an extinct flightless bird that was endemic to the island of Mauritius, east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. The dodo’s closest genetic relative was the also extinct Rodrigues solitaire, the two forming the subfamily Raphinae of the family of pigeons and doves.
Dodo – Wikipedia
In light of the American news stream these days, I give you a sequel to yesterday’s post, “Tap Dance Dodge or Truth Tango.” “It’s all a circus, kid. A three ring circus.” Billy Flynn has morphed into another character in 2017, but the message is the same fifteen years later.
“Razzle Dazzle” from the film musical “Chicago” 2002
Mr. Flynn, his honor is here
Thank you. Just a moment.
Oh Billy, I’m really scared.
Roxie, you got nothing to worry about.
It’s all a circus, kid. A three ring circus.
These trials- the wholeworld- all show business.
But kid, you’re working with a star, the biggest!
Give ’em the old razzle dazzle
Razzle Dazzle ’em
Give ’em an act with lots of flash in it
And the reaction will be passionate
Give ’em the old hocus pocus
Bead and feather ’em
How can they see with sequins in their eyes?
What if your hinges all are rusting?
What if, in fact, you’re just disgusting?
Razzle dazzle ’em
And they’ll never catch wise!
Read more: Chicago The Musical – Razzle Dazzle Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Having completed my morning wade through the daily swamp of American news I leave it to place this question before us:
Can we make America great again this way:
Or this way:
That old familiar tune
Strikes up in the recesses of my soul
Heralding the familiar promenade of pretense.
I cast off layers of deceit
To the tattoo-tune of the Holy Stripper
And the raucous pleadings of my victims,
“Take it off! Take it all off!”
The bright white bones of truth
Step out of their camouflage
To dance La Cumparsita with wild abandonment
Until the familiar tune calls me back
To the stage of my humanity.
© Rita H Kowats June 3, 2017
6:00 p.m. And the hits just keep on coming. TapDanc
And the hits just keep on coming. Tap Dance ad nauseum:
6:00 p.m:. Tuesday:http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4708778/Trump-Putin-held-second-undisclosed-meeting-G20-summit.html http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4708778/Trump-Putin-held-second-undisclosed-meeting-G20-summit.html
There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” …The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by 1 Kings 19:9;11
FORMS OF HOSPITALITY
from Henri Nouwen’s book, Reaching Out
We probably will never be free from all our hostilities, and there even may be days and weeks in which our hostile feelings dominate our emotional life to such a degree that the best thing we can do is to keep distance, speak little to others and not write letters, except to ourselves. Sometimes events in our lives breed feelings of bitterness, jealousy, suspicion and even desires for revenge, which need time to be healed. It is realistic to realize that although we hope to move toward hospitality, life is too complex to expect a one-way direction. But when we make ourselves aware of the hospitality we have enjoyed from others and are grateful for the few moments in which we can create some space ourselves, we may become more sensitive to our inner movements and be more able to affirm an open attitude toward our fellow human beings.
Photo Credit: http://stevensauke.blogspot.com/2013/08/high-noon-on-israelite-front.html
Auroras continue to intrigue…what a lovely afternoon I had meandering around Jupiter and my own soulscape….enjoy.
Jupiter’s powerful magnetosphere extends up to two million miles into the space around the planet (illustrated) and is thought to be responsible for sending charged particles in the space around it hurtling at high speeds towards the poles
Here is how our spirits look when we make the connections to the divine:
Marguerite Hemmer Kowats
Some thought she slipped
into madness for the way she changed.
She thought it was madness
to live the life she once did.
One evening when my little momma was 76 we sat together in her living room after supper and she said, “You know, Honey, there are dishes in the sink and I just don’t give a damn!” This was indeed a healing proclamation for me, as I had begun the struggle to let go of the heightened sense of duty which I had so diligently learned from her.
This new version of Mom reverted to her era as a flapper girl when she loved dancing in the arms of handsome medical students in the best hotels in St. Louis. Once she dropped a smuggled bottle of booze on a bedazzled lobby floor. Call it madness if you will. She knew how to live back them.
I rejoice that by the end of her life she had left the dirty dishes in the sink where they belong.
Life at Midlife
I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.
I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred.
I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task
I am no longer waiting for the perfect children; my children have their own names that burn as brightly as any star.
I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; It already did, and I survived.
I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.
I am no longer waiting for the mate who will complete me; I am grateful to be so warmly, tenderly held.
I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.
I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and breathe peace in and out.
I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.
I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.
I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness.
I believe, I Believe.
Author: Mary Anne Perrone
Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow it its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With The Wolves: Contacting the Power of the Wild Woman
A fish cannot drown in water,
A bird does not fall in air.
In the fire of creation,
God doesn’t vanish:
The fire brightens.
Each creature God made
must live in its own true nature;
How could I resist my nature,
That lives for oneness with God?
Mechthild of Magdeburg in The Flowing Light of the Godhead
Wild flowing light calls
Nature to nature responds
Human beings blaze
Rita H Kowats
Photo Credit: G. Brad Lewis/ Barcroft Media, edited