Death of The American

A man not clear in his faith is not clear in his thoughts. Either you are or your not, faithful. About what may matter less than an indecisive mind about your own persona. A man in the middle has two masters ruling his existence.

Creeds, oaths, and constitutions are facades for men with a weaker continence. An American was never intended to be part of a government, quite the contrary, a government was meant to be part of a man to protect the interests of those with which he communes.

Throughout his life, an American, uses his time to protect his life and liberty. Neither are afforded by any other man or entity. He develops his strength physically, mentally, and intellectually as to provide for his interests and the interest of those with whom he communes.

A free man stands alone with allegiance to principles, not people or governments. He may have to bear faith and allegiance to an ideal bigger than himself at times to protect his liberty, but his principles do not change, and in the absence of threat he returns his allegiance to himself and his interests. This is the point of the word “bear” in the oath a soldier takes. He must endure the subjugation of his liberty for a time as to protect the greater interest of his liberty. This is a temporary state within the life of an American.

I hear “let freedom ring!” I see pristine flags wisping in the winds of time. I watch parades and ceremonies where Americans glorify the deeds of our Nation. What I don’t see is liberty and independence. I see dependence and authority established without resistance.

Americans calling for more laws while stripping the independent man of his liberty. Americans dividing over resources they didn’t sweat for provided by politicians who own nothing but a plastic title. I see leadership redefined for those weaker men to be considered consensus. I hear lies that Americans ignore for a larger piece of a pie that’s been sitting in the window sill way to long to be edible. I feel we’re lost.

We’ve been so far removed from what it means to be an American weaker men have diluted liberty and independence to compromise and control. We were never intended to be ruled. Read the documents. Pay attention to the language. Understand liberty, understand independence, comprehend the nuances of phrases like “bear true faith and allegiance, these are temporary states of being that have rode the lie of pride into a subjugated existence that’s portrayed as free, you’re not free, wake up.

I bear what dealings I have with institutions like government for the greater good of my interests and the interests of those I love. I bore truth faith and allegiance throughout a career in the military. I sacrificed freedom, therefore I understand that’s over. My allegiance is to my interests now and benefit citizens I’ll never meet or shake hands with, I am no longer my government.

We are in a war within that most cannot see. This war, if lost, will compromise all that it means to be American. I’m not speaking about being patriotic, I’m speaking of independence. I’m not speaking of pride, I’m speaking of respect. I’m not speaking of unity, I’m speaking of liberty. If we remember and understand what it means to be an American and act as such, this will provide for the common defense.

Americans were never meant to be a government, a religion, a party or race. We were meant to be independent folks who cared enough about our liberty and independence that at times we would sacrifice those principles for our greater good, then return home with our allegiance to our own endeavors.

We are in danger. Too many of us are governed by weaker men with goals other than our independence and liberty. They can’t give us liberty, it’s ours inalienably. They can’t give us independence, it’s our heritage. They can’t give us freedom, only take it, and this has been the path for far too long. Stand up alone, be proud of yourself, and let no man govern you into a subjugated state of illusion!

Home Parenting

“Just get the milk from your sister, it’s 500 degrees out here and you’re letting the air out!” “Give me the lotion. You can’t do it, you’re wasting it!” No, I’ll pour the cereal, you’ll spill it.” Give me the paint, you’re making a mess!”

These, and many more memories echo in the minds of most parents. It’s so much easier to do so many things by yourself, but is that a sound long term tactic? Would we be better of, or more importantly, would our children be better off if we spread the pain and anxiety over 18 years?

With age comes patience, and patience wisdom. We’re so far past the stereotypical “first child parent” it’s almost difficulty talking to folks who are first child or only child parents without sounding callous or irresponsible. We probably sound and look as crazy to them as they appear naive to us.

We work with wood for a living. We do this partly so we can enjoy the wonderfully unbearable time we spend with our kids. We feel time is most important. It would certainly be easier to cart them off to daycare and go to a job for 8-12 hours and hopefully eat dinner together at a time that wouldn’t choke us in our sleep. However, we made the choice to be poor and together, for our situation it works.

I have three grown children from another marriage and we are raising three together. The two boys are 7 and 9, the youngest is 2 1/2. These are demanding and dynamic phases. The oldest compares his chest hair to his younger brothers. The younger brother decides wether or not every situation in the house is fair. The youngest thinks the kitchen and all of its contents are her playground. We can’t wait till there all a little more human.

The kids are around whenever we’re working. The boys have largely gotten bored with the excitement if power tools and constantly try to sneak outta the heat to watch some TV. The youngest though, she’s in her prime for tool time. Knives, saws, chisels and blocks seem amazing. So again, we safely go through the process of stopping what we’re doing every now and then to demonstrate, and supervise, our 2 1/2 year old sawing a block of wood.

On a recent trip to the grocery store in our 100 degree weather “little girl” decided she would put her sandals on because she wanted to walk into the grocery store where she could shop for us. She remembered the last time she got down from bring carried and the pavement was too hot. So we’re good now with grocery day. She remembers to bring her sandals she doesn’t want to wear because she can’t shop and has to ride in the cart when she doesn’t have shoes. This is pretty much the rubric for learning at this age.

Returning home everyone grabs as many bags as possible and takes them to the kitchen, which “little girl” has made an extension of her playroom. Standing at the steps to the door waiting on “Little Girl” to try and carry bread and milk up the three steps was amusing. Not to mention dangerous because we have lost a couple gallons in this process. All this made even more enjoyable by the unbearable heat.

What I know, and subsequently confirmed is; raising children isn’t easy. I could go to the grocery store by myself and hop outta the truck and be home in 25 minutes. I could go to work and only have to worry about the extra 30 minutes on either side it takes to drop the kids off and pick them up. I could cut and screw wood uninterrupted for hours at a time had we chose daycare. I could also send the kids inside to turn the TV on instead of enduring dropped groceries and 100 degree heat, but we experience many authentic moments being “home parents” that had we chose to work outside the house we would have missed.

We don’t “home school. We don’t feel it necessary. We send our kids to school for social reasons. We already knew their success in school was going to depend on us anyway. We drop them off and pick them off. Usually listening to their expectations in the morning and their successes or failures on the way home.

Being a “home parent” is very rewarding. We’re not wealthy and understand that has nothing to do with happiness or intelligence. We understand that it’s our choice and others make theirs for what they feel is good. What motivates us is we know each phase is the last and we’d better enjoy it while it’s here.

So for now we are hopefully allowing our kids to just be kids as long as they can and as fully as they can so when they’re adults that how they’ll feel. We don’t care what they become as much as that they become happy with who they are.

The freedom to explore and express theirselves now is important to us. We respect that not everyone agrees with this process. This is why we keep our 2 1/2 year old home mostly till she’s around 3, it’s safer for everyone involved.

We understand some folks seek academic success. Some chase actors curricular stardom. Some believe it takes a village. Some folks believe that insulating their child is the responsible thing to do. We respect other folks decisions, as we hope others do ours. We enjoy the difficult process of home parenting and including our children in our endeavors. It’s ugly for sure, but we all learn so much it’s impossible to see how limits are good if the actions are supervised, no matter how much harder it is than doing it ourselves.

Gathering Ghosts

Some days I feel like a haloed reaper. I carry memories and tears like wings on a gargoyle. Frozen outstretched emotions of guilt that no longer feather air. Just a concrete memory that I wish I could paint back to life.

It’s time that ticks off the emotions. Weather, seasons, darkness all come like lightening. Unexpected flashes of childhood folly or adult dramas playing out as a reminder. I wonder at the places they’ve traveled in spirit; do they know?

I wonder if life in spirit is more colorful than life in body. Does pain dissipate like myst in the spirit, or does it choke you like smoke. Are you smiling down on my naïveté or cynical about my faults. Either way you speak to my understandings in a way I can’t describe and you can’t communicate.

These friends of mine aren’t “up there”. They’re everywhere I remember. Breakfast tables, playgrounds, even the train tracks we romped. I listen to us on the radio and silently hope you would approve, but in the end I am reminded you had your own ghosts.

So to carry these people and places around is an honor. I’m still here creating my ghost. Hoping I can leave the trace of an unknown smile, or a tear in a rear view mirror. I hope I can create a space where yesterday and today come together without the burden of tomorrow. A space where my loved ones can carry with them a moment in the sound of rubber in asphalt. Until then, I’ll carry Ya’all in the summer breeze and winter storm with the same warmth you’ve given me.

Crayon Box Kids

I know you’re busy. I realize that wasting time on this crayon box shit them idiots been carrying around for years, or a check, is tired. It’s past ignorance if that’s possible. I understand you have to work, take care of family and spend time with friends, but you have to take a minute.

We let these bastards run their mouth to long. Yeah, it wasn’t worth it to shut them up, but it ended up being like the child that was never disciplined and suddenly became too big for everyone’s britches. Now these little idiot actually have folks convinced their legit and he brought the playground with him.

I know you hear about colors that matter and wonder why. Just like I wonder about geeks who are so afraid of the dark they take their sheets outside with them so they can keep their minds hidden under their sheets.

We shut these fucks up for a minute, but they ain’t going away. We knew this and moved on not realizing folks would find dollars in the pockets of sagging pants. We didn’t realize the sheets would get folded up and put away for hair styles. Who knew that these miedra ignorante would steal the cowboys bandana to wipe their ass instead of sweat from a hard days work.

They’re all the same. Like some adolescent bitch in heat they dress up, fix their hair, and show their ass like it’s some booty for mentally incapacitated hood rats who colors kids white, black, brown or red like pit bulls in a whelping box. Who knew we would end up listening to these feminized men trying to emasculate jewelry and fashion to entertain their Momma’s through an audience of baby Momma’s raising little man.

I can’t understand the toothless bastard stealing flags and soldiers medals to paint their town white. Even crazier, there’s a chicken shit cracker eating desk jockey out there buying this fool the paint and brushes as long as he don’t tell no one. You know the one, he has masks and dollars to masquerade as a leader, he cut his teeth in a church building that could only produce a spirit with white robes.

I know you’re out there quietly shaking your head like me. I know you see through the race hustle like I do. Usted ve la ignorancia. We are humans. We left our crayon boxes in elementary school. We aren’t fools lost in some world of physical attributes as power, our power is seeing through bandanas, sheets, and feminized male fashion.

Now we have to speak to those cultures trying to usurp our efforts and failures as their excuse for choosing to get theirs. These micro cultures within our diverse country don’t deserve a voice when they start screaming like little man in Walmart trying to get a new toy. We need to understand for them they’ve been a political bitch for decades to a movement that will stoop to any level to create a vote.

These political pariahs don’t support the poor, they exploit the govt assistance chasing hood rats and their colorful offspring for entertainment. They don’t care about the immigrant that’s no longer Mexican, and will never be American. They make movies about drugs, bandanas, and guns. They don’t care about the poor folks of all colors, they pit us against each other using false stats and cops who work for spineless administrators who don’t know the first thing about leadership. And we fall for the ruse, folks believe there’s a race problem because they are still the political bitch and don’t know the difference between cultures and race.

Old folks say just cause you’re poor don’t mean you have to be dirty. I say just cause we’re poor we don’t mean we have to be ignorant. The more we study, or research, the more we realize them folks ain’t that smart anyway.

Rise above the ignorance. Take control of your reality. Understand that your people are in your circle and anybody trying to represent better step back. A real man don’t let no bitch dressed up acting represent him. We stand tall in our own boots and sandals. We stand with our sons and daughters, wives and parents, as an example of a free man. Free physically and mentally from any influence of dollars or comforts we ain’t earned. We ain’t no particular color, we’re a particular character, and we’re calling Ya’all out!

Wind

I close my eyes riding the wind through the tenses of my life. Filtered images fly through the dark illuminating scenes through the scent of memory and hope.

I know not where the wind will take me, nor the speed, for there’s a world of difference between the breeze and the gale, but they’re mine none the less.

The sounds of my past aren’t audible. They come through experiences that thunder or whisper to my soul. Interrupted only by the decibels of reality rumbling across my conscientious. The light rain on the tin roof has more color in mind than in my world.

It’s like the sound of rubber rolling on wet asphalt triggers a silence that brings a colorful emotion that’s silent, but heard. Felt in that separate place between memory and hope.

I can’t live here in this darkness full of light, sound, and smells. I can’t push the world far enough away. I can close my eyes and smile, or cry for dreams long past, or hopes that’ve died. Either way the beauty isn’t lost, it’s in me.

Middle Ground

Denying God is a choice for some folks. This choice has many different factors, most of which are not evil. The roots of disbelief are varied and don’t have as much to do with Satan as they do with our psychology.

I’ll stay as far from the atheist vs theist movement as much as possible. These two groups, in my eyes, are the charismatic extremes of the normal everyday believer or non believer. While one labors to live today within an Old Testament reality the other spends an inordinate amount of time talking about the crusades. Neither of these two will help anyone.

I have learned that the middle road scenery is a more realistic journey. I have to stay focused on the path because life seems to push us to extremes. I’m not afraid of God or biology, and for me, it’s what we’re all made of.

At it’s purest form God seems to be the “thing” we question or celebrate every time something good or bad happens to us. After a series of unfortunate events we may question “Why me!” Maybe we hit a string of luck and feel fortunate that somehow it was our turn. Either way, luck, good or bad, assumes an external control.

The strange thing is that whether you believe or don’t, there’s a nagging “something” within the human condition that questions our place in the world. A believer who questions their faith during times of trial, or the non believer who rationalizes events in their life, both rely on something invisible to the average human condition of understanding. Both experience events beyond their understanding and question “why”.

I’m not making a case for or against believing or non belief. I’m simply pointing to the fact that we share this space of unknown consequence. We experience things beyond or control or understanding and attempt to fill it with faith or facts. When both of these fail it seems it’s just us. Somehow we are the unfortunate or fortunate ones.

This space is where the disagreement comes and folks have preyed (no pun intended) on probably forever in human history. It’s almost like I wish we could define for folks what it was like “pre-religious”. Like we do for pre-industrialization. From the accounts we have, it was a violent existence. I’m not saying religion saved the world , it seems it capitalized on humans ability to organize for collective survival. However, we are certainly better off as humans for exploring our spiritual side, it’s when it became a vocation we strayed.

Origins are the key. It’s from these points we can move foreword with coherence. We won’t change institutional religion in government, they’re mutually exclusive at this point, we’d have to eliminate both and that’s not gonna happen. We can enlighten folks on the history of our humanity so that they may exercise their spirituality more responsibly.

So whoever or whatever we fill that void with, we have to leave room for respect and honesty. When I say honesty I don’t mean facts, I mean feelings. I am in the middle between facts and feelings, not to be objective, although that helps, but I think the middle is the space where balance rules.

Hitting folks over the head with a Bible or Quran just makes folks numb. Just like throwing our a barrage of scientific facts to counter someone’s spiritual sensibilities shuts down dialog. Someone had to stand in the gap of reason.

Religion is not spirituality and science is not intelligence. It makes no sense that God would subjugate his creation, just as it makes no sense science would reject possibility. Between the two most of us live, and within the two we survive our own intellectual and spiritual ignorance. And this is life.

Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.