wind cry, snow whine
tired and toneless winter tune
waiting for the pitch-pipe sun
and the soft direction
of a distant child
river stone 1-21-11
After sitting and obsessively writing for three hours, I cannot fall asleep. Why is it that I only get creative after dark?
Our Secular America: the truth is out there (part 1)
Every once in a while I get obsessed about some issue — usually not a minor one. I try to deal with my obsessions with some degree of intelligence.
Occasionally I do a really worthwhile job, and so before I embark upon several posts that are developing from my current obsession, I’m going to share some evidence of my credibility, my ability to do a worthy job of intelligently obsessing.
More than six years ago, I posted a piece that is no longer accessible online because some of my archives were lost when I switched from a MoveableType to a WordPress blog format. But I did have the text saved as a document and it will be my next post.
Right now, however, I am self-servingly sharing part of an old post with the response I got to that six-year-old piece from a (then) doctoral candidate at the University of Chicago. And here it is:
Hello Elaine,
I recently discovered your website, and was so delighted (and sincerely impressed with the very good content) that I mention it in my most recent column, “Voices of the Peoples” at the ClarkPost. This month’s column is called “The Death of Democracy in America: The Foundering Fathers and the White Roots of Peace” and includes a paragraph or two about your site.I do hope you’ll understand my discussion of your site in the appreciative and playful spirit it is intended. It is a wonderful place to visit.
Another dissenting Crone,
Lilian Friedberg, PhD
Cognitive Dissident
Dr. Friedberg’s piece [no longer available online] is long but worth reading for the well-researched perspective she gives not only on the death of democracy in America, but also on its origins and the misconceptions most people have about its development.
Of course, to me, the best parts are what she says about Kalilily Time, which I post here with a big dissident smile on my face. Note that the kitschy clip art to which she refers was the design of my old format.
To my cognitively dissonant delight—one ray of inspiration did appear on an otherwise dim string of search results which led me to the weblog of Elaine of Kalilily, Self-Proclaimed Resident Crone of Blogdom, who also describes herself as a “True Blue American,” and whose blog entry for November 5, 2004, “My Blue America,” glimmers with subtly placed signs of hope. The real gems are buried in the links she supplies: truths debunking myths of Puritans fleeing religious persecution only to export it to the colonies in the form of domestic tyranny abroad, truths about witch-burnings, and about the foundational principle of genocide underlying the birth of this nation—on a link that’s worth singling out here, since it’s rather cleverly cached behind a hyperlinked reference to the military that benignly obscures the page’s content. [link no longer works] (Genocide and The American Indian Peoples)
Nor did I leave Kalilily’s site without finding the scoop I was looking for on the founding fathers, in particular as they relate to the third part of this essay, The White Roots of Peace—but we’ll return to that in a moment.
Emoticons cannot express my response to the quality and truth content of these treasures on a site that looked, at first blue blush, to be an exercise in kitsch- and cupcake-artistry. Just goes to show, never judge a blog by its clip art.
About the time I hit the genocide link, I went back and, with a quizzed “who-the-hell-is-this-person” look, and clicked on the “ABOUT ME” link. Voila!: My faith in the American people restored. At the risk of offending the self-proclaimed Crone of Blogdom, I must admit what first came to mind: “Well, I’ll be damned,” I thought, “it’s just a little old retired grandma sitting there raising hell at the keyboard!” (That wouldn’t be an altogether fair assessment of a rather accomplished career woman and crafty writer who truly has earned her Crone-Coronation, so I invite the reader to read her site for the rest of the story.
And it was on Elaine of Kalilily’s site that I found one of the spokes in the wheel I was hoping to “uninvent.”
The people of the Six Nations, also known by the French term, Iroquois Confederacy, call themselves the Hau de no sau nee (ho dee noe sho nee) meaning People Building a Long House. Located in the northeastern region of North America, originally the Six Nations was five and included the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas. The sixth nation, the Tuscaroras, migrated into Iroquois country in the early eighteenth century. Together these peoples comprise the oldest living participatory democracy on earth. Their story, and governance truly based on the consent of the governed, contains a great deal of life-promoting intelligence for those of us not familiar with this area of American history. The original United States representative democracy, fashioned by such central authors as Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, drew much inspiration from this confederacy of nations. In our present day, we can benefit immensely, in our quest to establish anew a government truly dedicated to all life’s liberty and happiness much as has been practiced by the Six Nations for over 800 hundred years. The Six Nations and the Oldest Living Participatory Democracy on Earth.
More than six years have gone by since I wrote the lost-in-cyberspace “My Blue America.” The dispute over the origins of our secular democratic roots has reached disturbing proportions, and, sadly, many of the most vocal political people in this country still don’t get it.
So, watch for my re-post of “My Blue America,” which will be Part 2 of my series on “Our Secular America.”
they are always three
The following is my response to the visual prompt at Magpie Tales, #49. Follow the link and read the responses of other writers.
Three sisters,
three fates.
three witches,
bell, book, candle:
each carries a wish,
a separate wisdom,
a special gift,
or warning.
They surround, confound.
They are mystery and history.
And we always
invite them in.
river stone 1-20-11
I put a cake in the oven, set the timer, and went to search through my poetry for something to submit. The cake is overdone. Much of my poetry is, as well.
river stone 1-19-11
a shadow on the stairs
where there should be none
— a black cat asleep
river stone 1-18-11
From a small mound of snow emerges the head of a squirrel, who seems to take a breath and then disappear. Above the mound hangs what’s left of a bird feeder that the squirrel had demolished before the snows. Up and down, he pops and plops, delighting in the fact that the birds can’t get at his stash.
river stone 1-17-11
Watching Kathy Bates in “Harry’s Law.” Gray hair, a few extra pounds, well-dressed, feisty and female. It’s about time.
river stone 1-16-11
went out to romp in the snow. unfortunately, my age came with me.
river stone 1-15-11
When I took geometry in high school, I never thought I’d have any reason to remember the Pythagorean Therum or Algebra. More than 50 years later, I’m learning to do modular knitting and I have to figure out how many stitches to pick up along the hypotenuse of a knitted right triangle. But these days, even if I don’t know, Google knows.