As we all know, the indigenous people of our country got a really unfair deal. Under Andrew Jackson, with the 'Indian Removal Act,' and the Trail of Tears, as a result, Native Americans having to leave North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Georgia, leading those who survived the perilous journey, to Oklahoma and Arkansas, mountains.
This was mainly the Cherokees. Many people in the United States claim to have Cherokee heritage. I am certain that many do, but I think many people say they have Native American blood, who really don't, because it seems cool. The point is that here in the states, people want to be Indian, and have a certain respect now for the indigenous people of our country.
In Mexico and South America, and probably Central America, Latin America in general, people tend to be racist towards the Aztecs, Mayans, the indigenous people, even though most people have some Indian or indigenous heritage. For some reason, many would rather identify with the Spanish heritage, which was brought by Cortez, even though the Spanish also brought the inquisition, along with its torture, even if in the name of Catholicism and Christianity.
I know that some Latin Americans are proud of their Indian culture, and have ties to Aztec royalty, and Mayan I am sure, but many want no part of identifying with the indigenous people. This is racism, no matter how you look at it, and makes no sense.
I guess, that if I were to deeply research the culture of South America, such as Peru, Chile, Ecuador, I would find facts that I am not aware of, in more detail, about this.
In Canada, part of North America, the French intermarried with the Native Americans, such as the Mahicans, and are also, like people in the U.S., proud of this heritage, and of course not just the French, but other nationalities. In contrast, it seems that Latin Americans want no part of their native culture and heritage, and are often racist towards their more pure Indian peers, such as Mayans and Aztecs.
Racism is unfortunate, and truthfully a problem in The States, as well. For instance, one in three black men, will end up in prison. Why? One in six Hispanic men, will end up in prison, and one in every sixteen white men.
Ironically, in Australia, a penal colony originally, and I don't find white Australians to be the nicest people in the world, in my own experience, but I understand that a great number of indigenous people, the aborigines, often end up in prison, and are the recipients of racism.
I guess I do not understand this consciousness, so why is this? Is it poverty, lack of opportunity? I think that The United States is on the right track, in terms of its consciousness, but there is so much emphasis, in different cultures, about skin color, which means nothing. I think the racism leads to contempt, which leads to discrimination, which leads to poverty, which might be what could lead to crime.
I would like to see this change, that The Americas all become more color blind, and that South Americans, Central Americans, and Mexicans, especially, would change this thought system.
In 1996, I went to India for the last time. It was not a good decision in retrospect. In a thirty-three year history, forty-eight now, of being with Baba, from a Baba family, and having been twice as a child and once as an adult already, ten years prior, it was the fourth in four decades and the last.
You probably wonder why I say, it was a bad decision. Well, the ticket was really cheap, and then I guess I could afford it, but I was working at a health food store, and had to ask for time off, but I also had my children staying with their dad in Colorado. Some people think it is good for women who are separated or divorced to take a time period, when they let the father take the kids, but I have always felt guilty about that period of time.
I feel like I went to India for the wrong reasons, and I knew it. I was chasing a guy, I had already had a two year relationship, living together, with. But, in some ways, perhaps, the wrong reasons lead you to the right place at times.
I arrived in Bombay, on my own, at the age of thirty-five, wearing a long Indian skirt I had purchased in London, on another crazy escapade to see the same guy, the summer before, and a black t-shirt, green silk scarf, and a Baba button.
It was pouring rain, and I had had two Johnny Walkers on the plane. When I got outside, a man held a sign with my name in large print. He came with an umbrella and led me to the car.
I stayed up in the lobby of the Leela hotel all night, and talked to the waiters or they talked to me. I had another drink as soon as I got there, a martini, a ten dollar one, crazy.
We left for Amednagar very early, and I slept on the back seat, getting up to take pictures of the monkeys in the mountains, on the side of the highway.
I guess it was noon, by the time we got there. I sang at the tomb that night, the samadhi, they call it. There are two artis a day there. I usually did not make it to the early one, unless, I had garlands to bring, which I bought on the side of the road when we went to the trust office on the bus.
My father had given me money to do this, money for this purpose. His writing is published in The Glow if you google Lyn Ott excerpts, Glow Magazine, and you will find a whole very well done website on him, with pictures, etc.. However, I am not him, but me. He was a very devout Baba follower, and I do not know what I am, in terms of Baba, or God for that matter.
My parents' murals decorated the old pilgrim center, where I stayed. You could only see the mandali on Tuesdays. Mani had recently passed away, but Eruch, Gohair and Meheru were still there. Also, Arnavas, who I spent much time with. Dr. Gohair gave me some possessions of both Mani and Mehera, earrings, a picture and a handkerchief. The latter two were Mehera's, but she had given me gifts, which belonged to her, and Baba trinkets as well, when she was alive, also letters and a letter to my estranged husband, in '86, her idea, not mine. I suppose another son came about, due to that, but it is a whole other story.
It is hard for me to finish writing this, because I have some regrets, and I wish I had been making different decisions, and I feel like I did not really feel Baba on that trip. I think romantic involvements can be kind of stupid. I mean if you find the right person, and they are nice and you stay together, then that is wonderful. But, sometimes I think I would have been much better with no one, than the wrong one. You know someone is wrong for you when they make you incredibly unhappy. I used to want to appear spiritual, and status used to mean something to me, but it no longer does, and I no longer do. My values have changed. I think kids should come first. I think money is better spent buying a house, rather than globe trotting. I guess I just had a bad trip, but I think I woke up in a weird mood, so this is one of the worst blogs I have ever written.
Okay, I had coffee and a small breakfast, and my blood sugar is back up. I will share the good part. I read a ghazel by my father, which he asked me to read in Mandali Hall, in the presence of Eruch, and I got to spend some time with Eruch, who I really liked very much, before he died.
Also, I got to sing in Mandali Hall, a little performance, and have pictures of these things, since I had brought a camera, and someone took pictures.
I sang and played Sita Ram, the traditional Indian folk song a lot, and the servants loved it, as well as the Indian people at the dhuni, since it was a national favorite, Gandhi's favorite song, which is in Hindi.
As I wrote in my last blog, about the history of folk music, American I talked about, but songs of political and peaceful statements are what folk music is all about.
Sometimes, they are love songs or a story, but that usually make a statement about the place in time, such as Geordie, the old English ballad, where a maiden who is pregnant with her love's third child, and pleads at London Court, for his life. He is royalty, but "stole sixteen of the king's royal deer, and sold them in Boheny." In the end, he is hung in a golden chain, because the judge will not pardon him.
As I told a fellow on Facebook, who was telling me that seeking was the way, not desire, he is right. He made me mad, because I know my own past short comings, and writing about what an idiot I was, I brought it on myself. But, I am in the process of ego annihilation, and I do not really care what anyone says about me anymore, well maybe I care a little, but he is stating the obvious. I am sure he meant well, and feels he needs to teach me something. That is how people are, sometimes.
The beatnik movement started around the year I was born, 1961. My mother's former husband was the first beatnik my father had ever met, Bud Sife, who is still alive today.
That was actually in the fifties, before my parents were married, and my brother born in '59, so I guess I am contradicting myself, but I guess historically, Buddy was ahead of his time, in that way. My father describes his way of speaking, in his own autobiography, Journey Out of Darkness, his life story of encroaching blindness due to retinitis pigmentosa, his family, leading to meeting Meher Baba, in India, in 1965, with my mother, one year after she had met Baba alone.
Some of my father's autobiography has been published in Glow Magazine, edited by Narsherwan.
Folk music was a big part of the hippie movement. WWII was an instigator for writers such as Allen Ginsberg. And, I believe that, although he wants to be a part of the hippie movement, which really started around 1965, I think Leonard Cohen is more from the beatnik movement, because of his poetry, such as his published book of poems, Flowers for Hitler, obviously a sardonic statement, one of the poems it is named for, his age considered as well.
Truly, folk music began with slavery, spirituals, which kept the slaves going in adversity.
When Viet Nam started, and all through it, the hippies started a protest movement, including folk songs by singers, such as Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, and Pete Seiger. Arlo Guthry was from an earlier time. Joe Hill, born in Sweden in the late 1800's would fit into his category of union protest, etc., similar, but not the same as the type of music in Oh Brother Where Art Thou.
Included in the folk movement, were such singers as Judy Collins, The Seekers, Peter, Paul and Mary, Harry Bellafonte, and others.
In the '70's, pop stars, folk musicians like Joni Mitchel, who later became progressive and jazzy, by around '77 with Hissing on Summer Lawns, James Taylor, Carol King, Joan Armatrading, similar a bit to the nineties folk singer, who is still popular, Tracy Chapman, in style, Cat Stevens, Jackson Browne, etc., emerged on the scene.
I think that the bohemian movement, like in the '20's in Paris, with Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, Picasso, really started the seeds to the beatnik culture, which was like a renaissance of that, in a way, I think.
I find this all quite interesting, and so I researched some of the history. Sometimes I wish I had lived back in another time, because parts of my consciousness are so effected by it, having been born at the beginning, or one of the beginnings.
The cast of characters: the ego, dressed in red, wearing a crown that says, "ego," atonement, which has a sign saying "atonement - separation never happened - forgiveness," the movie projector, wearing a sign saying "projector," rolling the movie onto the screen, a real screen on which the ego acts out with atonement, all kinds of drama, non specified actors, attacks, and there are two others, Jesus, who does not have a sign, but you will recognize Him, and the observer, who is not labeled either, but can be recognized eventually. And finally, there is judgment, who wears a sign, saying judgement. Attack also wears a sign that says attack. Judgement and Attack are dressed in gray and black. Jesus is dressed as Jesus would. Atonement is dressed in white, but everyone dances, so they are dressed in dance attire.
Scene One
Narrator: The ego is acting out the movie, the projector is placing on the screen. The observer, the part of the self, that knows the difference between ego and love is the higher self, above the ego. Atonement, oneness, forgiveness are the same, and Jesus, our brother is there all the time, but He observes, and is present, but does not speak.
Ego: dancing against the screen to 'Baby Won't You Light My Fire' by the Doors, I am looking for someone to judge. I'm bored. I want something crazy to happen. Music fades and changes, and the ego is dancing and singing along to 'I can't get no satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones. Jesus is sitting serenely on the floor, not reacting.
Ego: What are you doing on my screen?! This is my movie, didn't you know? It's my drama! Ego begins to cry, crying for love.
Observer: Why are you crying, Ego? Love holds no grievances.
Attack: enters stage, No, you will destroy me. I feel separate, so separate. Stop being serene, Observer!
Observer: This is who I am. I am the light of the world.
Judgment: entering stage, You are so holier than though. What is your problem, Observer?
Ego: Yeah, you will be the death of me, ya know.
Atonement: Ego, you had a tiny mad idea, you were never separate from God. Here is your Brother, Jesus. She points to Jesus, who smiles, and she and Jesus embrace. Jesus stands and takes ego and observer's hands and they dance around in a circle, singing, 'I am the light of the world, I am the light of the world,' an original song. A guitar player accompanies in the background or possibly where he/she can be seen, depending on director's creative license. Everyone sits down in a circle.
Ego: But all this love is just not good enough. I need some action. I need some drama.
Attack: I'll show you action! Show ya some drama as well. I'll kick your ass, Ego. Attack starts hitting Ego lightly, getting his attention.
Judgment: I think you're all freaking crazy. There must be some way out of here. Jimmi Hendrix version of 'All Along the Watchtower' by Bob Dillon starts playing. They are all dancing until the song is over.
Atonement: If we want to get to heaven, and get out of here, we need to forgive, radical forgiveness, ya dig?
Observer: That's right. I choose the peace of God. God, let me see this differently.
Atonement: looking at Jesus, and touching his face gently, God is the light in which I see.
Ego: you guys are killing me, Man. I mean I can't stand all this spirituality. I just want to party and fight!
Judgement: That's because you are a generic bad person.
Observer: Generic bad person?
Atonement: All is forgiven. Separation from God never happened. Love holds no grievances. There is no bad person here.
Attack: This is such crap. I need a drink.
Ego: Yeah, and a cigarette. I need a girlfriend. I need to validate myself.
Judgement: You are so nonspiritual.
Projector: In on the action now, I'll go out with you, Ego. They kiss and make out.
Ego: I love you. You validate me.
Attack: You two make me sick!
Judgement: Yeah, get a room, you two.
Ego: Wait, I hate you now. Projector starts to leave.
Ego: Come back! I hate you, but don't leave me!!!
Attack: Ego, you are so crazy!
Judgement: Yeah, you're screwed up, totally.
Atonement: Just forgive. Only God, love, heaven and the Holy Spirit exist.
Observer: Ego, Atonement is right. Just let Projector go. She might come around. You know, there's other fish in the sea, and it is best to be serene and just let go. Let go and let God.
Attack: You're all bloody mad! I feel like I'm in a friggin' nut house. You guys are major losers.
Projector sits next to Jesus, puts her head on His shoulder, with a serene smile, and holds His hand. He leans His head back against hers.
Ego: crying, Oh, I miss projector... whining. He sings 'Yesterday' by the Beetles. There is a guitar accompanist.
Observer: Ego, you're going to be okay. Stop all this whining. I am sure maybe you and Projector can be very happy together, but we are all going to die one day, so you can't be so attached to everything.
Attack: What are you talking about? Don't talk to Ego about dying. He is very upset.
Judgement: It's your own damn fault, Ego. You screwed up the relationship with your neediness.
Attack: Yeah, now you've blown it. Projector will never come back now.
Ego: Oh, woe is me, I am just doomed. I am so sad. I wanted to be special.
Observer: That's the problem, Ego, 'specialness.' No one can be more special than God, and you were making Projector your Higher Power. He's your Higher Power. She points to Jesus, and goes and leans her head on Jesus's other shoulder.
Atonement: Look, Ego, it's okay. Projector has already forgiven you. She found the peace of God. Look at her. She is so happy. You are not really separate from God, either.
Attack: What? Ego is just plain pathetic. Just look at him.
Judgement: I just think you're all bloody crazy. Get a grip. Ego, your whole problem is you're a bloody idiot. Look at you.
Atonement: Ego, you are a child of God. You are not really ego, though. You and Projector are really one, and Observer too. You are all one, and Jesus is one with you too. And, you are one with me as well, but you just don't know it yet, because you think you are just a body, but all that really is real is love, heaven, God, and the Holy Spirit thought system. That is how it is. Everything else is illusion. Atonement is wearing a long, white robe, and spreads out her arms.
Ego: I am so confused. This Course in Miracles stuff is confusing. I feel like I'm in the land of Oz. Or la la land, not sure which.
Attack and Judgement retreat, finally, and go sit down next to Jesus, Projector, and Observer. They are looking down humbly, and Jesus is still holding Projector and Observer. Judgement and Attack embrace Jesus, too.
Atonement: Well, it is like that, Ego. It's just like the land of Oz. Sock puppets. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. She points to Jesus. That's exactly what it is like. You are attached to your body, because you think that is all you are, but you are more, and He is always walking and talking with you, every day, everywhere.
Observer gets up, and takes ego's hand, leads him over to Jesus. They embrace.
Atonement: He's always with you, the light, the truth and the way. Now you are the salt of the earth. The light of the world.
Jesus: I am always with you.
Atonement goes and sits next to the others on the edge of the stage on the floor. Guitar music and singing original song in background. Lights go out.
Lights on at the end, everyone bows, holding hands.
At final curtain call, engineers and musicians join, director, etc., join as well for final bow.
How Can a God of Compassion
Let These Things Happen
(lyrics to a song I wrote today)
How can it be this way,
People dyin' every day,
Seven children died at school,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
How can a happy day,
Turn into a tragic dismay,
People hurt on Boylston Street,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
Why does it make me so sad,
Why does it make me so mad,
People hurting every day,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
But love is greater than any pain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain.
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
It seems like evil gets its way,
And the light gets covered up all the way,
But in the end the bad guys loose,
'Cause in the end it's love we choose.
Love is greater than all this pain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain...
{I wanted to record and upload to my Youtube account, and then share my singing and playing on Facebook, but it takes hours and hours for my computer to upload songs onto Youtube.}
I was watching CNN last night, and this politician was excusing not having a safe room or basement at the school where seven children suffocated under the rubble of their school building in Oklahoma.
He was saying they had already put a lot of money into the schools, putting in safe rooms, and they needed the money for home land security. I find this a bit confusing.
If you ever noticed, school teachers are usually Democrats, including Laura Bush, pre-George W. Bush. I read her biography.
It is not just the fact that teachers do not get payed well, (I used to be a teacher in the South Carolina public school system, a sub who gets payed even less, and does just as much work, fulfilling all duties of regular teachers, including, car rider patrol, bus patrol, walking kids across the street to daycare, first aid, special reading groups, P.E., Art, Music, etc., like being a jack of all trades, having to learn to teach seventh grade geometry in five minutes from a teacher manual, working with severe handicaps, such as cerebral palsy, pre-school blindness, you name it, not to mention fights between kids, discipline and diplomacy with parents, including a police man father who came to my homeroom to threaten or frighten a child who was picking on his, which was not allowed.) It is also the fact that the school system does not have enough money. Some right wing Republicans think the schools can do with very little. South Carolina does not replace school buses, until they are fifteen years old, and then they buy used ones from other states, or get given them. I guess this is alright as long as they are safe, but it is very fiscally conservative.
I tell everyone I am fiscally liberal, but this does not mean that I believe in Socialism, or that I believe in 'pork', wasteful spending. However, I think the school should have had a safe room or basement, and if I were a politician, I would have been sorry about that, but this Republican congressman was not at all. Perhaps, I am viewing his remarks wrong or taking it too personally and judging him, but that is just how it came across. Cold, that is all I can say about it. It was cold, and what about the parents who lost their beautiful nine year old
or eight year old kids in the rubble of the school? Eight and nine is a very sweet age for kids, as well as any age. Just my thoughts. Thanks for reading.
There is and has been a lot of cruelty in the world, but the amazing thing is that love and light prevail. Goodness of heart trumps evil. Strength trumps all that tries to stomp it out with its hatred and malice.
I am thinking about the Boston Marathon bombing, what was meant to be a joyous occasion, turning to tragedy, because of two terrorist psychopaths.
It was similar on the tragic 911, in that the people of New York, first responders, and just citizens in general, helped people, much to the risk of themselves.
I remember 911 so well, and just kept crying when I watched the news. I even cried when Congress stood up and sang God Bless America.
I have been following the Boston incident, the coverage on television, CNN. I am impressed with the compassion, that people responded with, like soldiers on a battle field.
I have been amazed at the courage and will to live, of the surviving injured people. It is heartbreaking, and yet love and goodness prevail over evil. Love always trumps evil, even if it seems the opposite. The light is real. Darkness, the absence of light is nonexistent, although it does much harm.
This blog is about the raising of collective consciousness as a whole. That is why it is called The New Humanity. There is a growing new humanity, and it is not just the young people. People my age are expanding their horizons, and becoming more loving, or trying to be. I did not get into new age stuff, such as Tolle, Chopra, A Course in Miracles, meditation and yoga, as well as becoming a Reiki Master, until my forties, when I was searching. I had Baba, Meher Baba, but growing up in a Baba family, with parents who met and followed him, I felt a need to find answers of my own, and yet nothing I have found contradicts His teachings.
My only limitation, that I personally had, with Baba, was that I tried too hard to be spiritual, which was unrealistic for me, and I put too many demands on myself, but I vowed now not to talk about my personal life on my blog, due to some weird cyber bullying, I received.
The other limitation for me, was that meditation and yoga, a path I truly needed for my mental and physical well being, had not been stressed in Meher Baba's teachings, basically just loving Him. I needed the discipline, personally, and I did not need the pretense that some people seem to embrace.
I watched on Youtube, Joan Baez singing at one of her concerts, in Germany, a few years ago, Donna Donna, (a Yiddish folk song, which talks about cattle bound for market, but is actually a metaphor for the Jews being taken to the concentration camps by the Nazis, during the holocaust, when they were piled into trains. How the Winds are Laughing, they laugh with all there might... represents the Nazis, and the cattle represent the Jews: on a wagon bound for market there's a calf with a mournful eye, the swallow, so proud and free... winging swiftly through the sky..., represents the people, gentiles for example, not going to the camps, who are free.) Everyone in the audience is singing along, and know all the words to it, by heart. This is very touching, and when I sing this song, myself, I cannot keep from crying, for that reason. Once again, love prevails. Only love exists, and the people regret what happened, and like slavery in The States, no one now need feel to blame for what happened long ago, but what is amazing and beautiful is the reverence, the remembrance.
There was a famous author who would walk through Auschwitz, as it is today, a Jewish writer, and Oprah walked with him there, and he said, "this is a holy place. I feel the holiness, because of the great suffering that occurred here."
I am sorry that Boylston Street in Boston, is now a place where great suffering has occurred.
In my book American Boys, I think the point is that light and love trump darkness. It is a story about love, sacrifice, patriotism, hardship, dreams coming true, tragedy, the meaning of living in America, the consequences of war, which devastate two families, in the story, as well as many others.
I am sending love to all those around the world, who want peace, who fight for justice, and I am proud to be an American, and I appreciate all the people in other countries, who care about America, as well as Americans.
We need to keep the Boston Marathon victims in our hearts and in our prayers. They have a long road ahead, and a lot of healing still to come. Much love to all.
As anyone who knows me, or my family, can well see, the situations and characters in my book resemble situations in my own life.
So many books are written about rich people, and so few about poor people. So many books are written about unrealistic romanticized lives, taking place in five star hotels, private jets, limousines, champagne and caviar, and jet setting around the world.
I like good stuff, champagne and what not, but I wanted to write a book about how the little guy lives, how a poor hard working single mother struggles, and how two kids in one family can be afflicted with two serious hardships. I have RP and so do my kids, so there you have it, and I was and still am a single parent, even though my kids are grown. It was not easy. It really was not.
One of my kids, the older one, has some other health issues, and my younger one has asthma, which I hope he will one day grow out of. I am proud of my sons. They are fine young men, and the younger one is working now. He's a musician, and he lived in Peru for a while with his girlfriend. It was really an interesting experience, although I had concerns for him, due to money and issues like that.
As I have said before, many people live in ivory towers, and do not realize the struggles of every day people, paying rent, bills, looking for jobs, or even just surviving on disability, which is poverty really.
When kids grow up with a single parent who is poor and disabled, it is not easy. My ex husband payed child support, but he remarried and had more kids, and it was not easy for my sons to have him absent, although he did come around, take them out, and participate in their lives, to some degree, but much of the time when I needed his help, when things got out of hand, he told me there was nothing he could do, that he was there and we were here. He was helpful, very helpful to David financially, when David was in Peru, so I give him credit for that. Money can be a way for some people to show love, or at least that they care.
In my book, no one is exactly anyone particular, but Daniel, in my mind, when I write him, is similar to David.
Nicolas is a bit like Theodore, but is not him, and is the younger one. He only looks a little like Ted.
Charlie is a lot like Alan, my boyfriend who died, but in the book, Lizzy who is not me, chooses another guy, Jim, who is not Alan. I think I was processing, in some way, why I was dissatisfied with Alan, my Charlie, so to speak, trying to understand that better. I suppose I have a lot of guilt, where Alan is concerned, but guilt feelings do not disable me in any way, nor do I dwell on them. I finally found my shadow, as Carl Jung talks about, when I was thirty-nine years old, a crisis that brought me to my knees, and I hit bottom, so to speak, emotionally, but since I was forty-two, I worked out a lot that was dormant in myself.
Lizzy is a certain type of person. She has some similar experiences as me, but she is a different kind of woman, entirely. She is capable, hard working, strong, an excellent mother, determined, exhausted, weary, tired, opinionated, jaded, responsible, free thinking, not prissy, no nonsense.
Some of Daniel's friends are similar to David's friends, but aside from that the other characters are all real people, but no one I know, in real life. They represent people, in a sense, but only a very few characters are really like someone in my life, in terms of how they look, act, etc..
I guess I feel many people are unaware of the social problems in this country. I was just talking to a guy on facebook, this morning, who is a Libertarian, or very conservative Republican, and does not think the government should take care of it's people. I believe the opposite. Thanks to Bill Clinton, my kids grew up with health care through Medicaid. The rich just do not want to be taxed, and they live in fear of losing their money, God forbid, due to the poor, who they think need to take care of themselves. If that were the case, we could just let people die on the street like they do in India, no offense Indian friends, who read my blogs. A country needs a balance of socialism and capitalism. Compassionate Conservatism, as George W. talked about, believes that those who cannot take care of themselves should be. In fact Medicare Part D drug coverage came about under Bush.
I feel as an American patriot, having seen some of my sons' friends join the armed services, I know that it is a choice some young people make, for various reasons. Since The United States has been in war time for so long, Operation Iraqi Freedom, Afghanistan, finally withdrawing troops, and hoping Syria is not going to be another one, and ever since 911, various terrorism, such as the terrible Boston Marathon bombing, which was so shocking, sad, disturbing, heartbreaking, and unimaginable, I wanted to bring the military into my story. Adrien's story, being killed in Iraq, is right in the center of my book. Books have now been written about Iraq, and I have read some of them, as well as excerpts from others, just as books have been written on other wars, such as The Naked and the Dead, by Norman Mailer, my aunt's first husband, father of my first cousin Susie Mailer, his oldest child. He is dead now.
I did not want to candy coat the lives of average, daily Americans, who see so many hardships.
I got so tired of silly candy coated books, however my book has no sex in it, because I do not like sex in books or movies. It is too personal to me. However, my book has strong language. And, there is some extreme violence in Iraq.
In New England, back home, there is only some mild fist fighting in a bar, and some fox hunting, but no fox even gets shot, because of Nicolas's condition. He freaks out, and has a seizure, so they have to take him to the hospital.
Well, I suppose it could be worse, the poverty, the lives. They could be living in the south side of Chicago, with drive by shootings.
Finally, what does Jim represent? Not only does the healed relationship between Lizzy and her affluent parents improve their lives, and Daniel gets to go to Berkeley School of Music, a miracle, but everyone's life becomes easier with Jim in the picture.
However, do not get it wrong. This is not a romance novel, and Jim is not Prince Charming. He is a normal, established guy, who happens to own and operate a bar on an empty two lane highway. He is a Democrat, has an apartment in Burlington, and drives a truck. He is smart, the kind of guy who can hold his own in conversations anywhere, has good judgment, and is a bit fatherly. He is the kind of guy with a strong handshake, who says, "hey!!" He is the kind of guy who can build a shed, fix a car or play poker. He is not married, nor is he a womanizer. He is burly and pretty good looking, but he is not a pretty boy, nor is he a narcissist. I do not know if I am getting him across. The point is that Lizzy needs help. She has been strong with those boys, doing everything herself for so long, and to her mind Charlie just was not 'strong enough' to be her man, like the Sheryl Crow song. He wanted to be, and he was her friend. He was a good person, but he lacked something she was looking for, and from what you gather from one of the earlier chapters, she would rather take a gray hound bus or get her truck fixed, than go with him to see her parents. I think that says something in and of itself. In fact, it says a lot. But, I do admit that the presence of Jim, in her life, a man she meets at forty-five, working as a bar tender in his bar, makes everyone's life a little easier.
Almost four years had passed, since Thanksgiving of November, 2008. It was now 2012, June. Nicolas had graduated high school. Daniel had graduated from Berkeley School of Music in Boston, and Bethany had graduated from Keene State. Robert had graduated from N.H.U. in Durham, New Hampshire, one year ago, also with a degree in music, but classical piano, unlike Daniel who majored in guitar, mainly jazz. Still, they had on occasions, played music together, for fun.
Lizzy was still with Jim, and they had sold the bar and bought her house, which they had renovated and turned into a bed and breakfast. The house was amazingly beautiful now, repainted, and still had room for the family, because the downstairs had been expanded, so that guests stayed downstairs, and family, upstairs. It was also well insulated now. They did not have guests often, but they were advertising on Craig's List, and local papers, as well. They also had a website, called Lizzy'sbedandbreakfast50.com. The fifty was because she was fifty now, which no one had to know.
Jim had put in an organic garden, and they helped with the local food drive. Lizzy had also been elected to the Vershire Center Town Council, which they had sent a copy of the newspaper clipping about, to Jack and Tara, so they could see her name in black and white, as well as her picture with other members. They were very proud of Elizabeth White, their only child. Lizzy was also volunteering once a week, at a women's shelter in Burlington, just answering the phone, and helping the women and children, who were staying there at any one time.
Lizzy and Jim, as well as Jack and Tara, had gone to Daniel's graduation, and Lizzy and Jim had attended Bethany's as well as Nick's, for which Grandma and Grandpa Jack and Tara had also come, and had been the first guests at Lizzy and Jim's bed and breakfast for the duration. The house smelled of gourmet coffee and fresh baked muffins and danish, as well as elaborate omelettes and their famous blueberry pancakes.
The 'Water Well' was sold, but still called the 'Water Well', and Nicolas was working in food prep there, his first job. He had learned to drive, got his license, no longer having seizures, and Jim had given him the Honda Accord, as well as having bought Lizzy an Acura sedan. Her truck was still on the property, but she never drove it anymore.
When they went on trips, they took Jim's newer truck, which had a double cab and a lot of room, and Rusty could ride in back on a warm day.
Lizzy and Jill would meet for coffee, yoga or dinner on a weekly basis, sometimes all three. They had become closer.
Norine and her sister, Becky, were still living in the old farm house, and Lizzy had convinced Norine to get out of, yet another abusive relationship, with Davis, who was a total abuser, and then she had found someone kind and loving. Without Lizzy to stand by her, she said she could not have gotten away from another abusive partner. It had taken her answering the door with a bruised face, on more than one occasion, for Lizzy to catch on, and intervene, even though Norine had been afraid, and Lizzy had thought she would never be able to get a restraining order, but she gained the courage, and she did. It had not been easy, but Lizzy had been there for her, the entire time.
Today was an auspicious one. Daniel and Bethany were coming to stay for the weekend. They were married now, and living in Boston. He was teaching guitar and playing in a rock band. She was teaching art, in primary school, and had been accepted into a cooperative gallery in Boston.
She had also had two shows of her work already, in Cambridge.
As Bethany drove up in their red Toyota, with Daniel in the front passenger seat, Lizzy
came out to greet them. She was wearing a red, floral print sundress, and her hair was down, and it hung down her back in soft curls, with just a simple, red ribbon holding the front, softly back, fine strands loosely falling around her face. She looked beautiful and happy, as never before. The tired weariness had gone from her, like a lost, but unwanted friend.
Rusty was very excited about their homecoming. He was literally grinning, as he ran and panted, from one person to another, but happy most of all, to see Daniel, who hugged his neck, and patted his head.
Picnic tables had been set up, and Jim was firing up the grill to make ribs, burgers, hot dogs, New England fresh corn, and chicken legs and wings. Everyone would be coming, bringing coleslaw, salad, deserts, drinks, fried chicken, and lots of ice.
When Daniel got out of the car with dark glasses on, Lizzy hugged him, and then Bethany, who was three months pregnant, and barely showing, wearing loose blue jeans and a sleeveless, fitted, white sweater, that slightly showed off the fact that she was pregnant. Her light brown hair had grown past her shoulders, and she looked lovely and healthy.
Lizzy realized that Bethany was pregnant, right away, even though she was only beginning to show. "It's wonderful," she observed, enthusiastically and brightly. "You look beautiful," she said to Bethany, embracing her, and kissing her cheek.
Nicolas came out, carrying a tray of drinks, and Jim followed him. "Hey guys," Jim called to them.
"Hey Jim," Daniel shook his hand. "Let me just grab a couple of things from the back."
"Hey Nick," Daniel called to his brother, who had set the drinks on a table, and approached him then. Daniel gave his younger brother a hug.
"Hi," Nick said softly, and smiled at Daniel. He was always happy to see his brother.
"Help Bethany with her things, Jim and Nick." Lizzy then announced, "Bethany is in a family way." Everyone burst out laughing, joyfully. "I hope I didn't ruin it," Lizzy said, almost embarrassed and looking more girlish than ever before, covering her mouth with her hand. "I mean was it a surprise?"
"No, it's fine. We figured you'd figure it out fast, Lizzy. You've always been quick, and you're pretty hard to get anything past." Bethany smiled at her, and squeezed her arm gently.
"C'mon," Lizzy led her by the hand. "Wait til you see the house. It's amazing. Just wait til you see yours and Daniel's room. The whole house had a makeover, since we turned it into a bed and breakfast."
Soon everyone began arriving, Jill and Tom, Robert and Chris, with their parents as well, Christen, Suzanne, Norine, along with her sister, Becky, and all their kids, combined, including her new boyfriend, Shane, who drove them.
Nicolas was elated when curly blond haired Sky showed up, with his forty year old, hippie nouveau parents, Michael and Willow. They brought tons of fresh fruits and vegetables in the form of elaborate salads. Willow's name suited her, because she always wore long, willowy skirts, and her long, honey colored hair flew about in loose curls, like swinging branches of willow trees.
Some of the friends from the old days at the 'Water Well' came. Even Charlie came, with his new girlfriend, Lori. The new owners of the 'Water Well', who had only moved to the area one year ago, Michael and Carrie Jones, also came, bringing two cases of fine wine, one, pinot noir, and the other, chardonay.
Lizzy looked up at the blue sky, the faint white clouds, the green, tall trees, the vast land, and all its beauty, and thought, 'it doesn't get better than this. This is life, beautiful life. I am happy, truly happy. I have everyone I love, and more than I could have ever dreamed of. I have everything any fifty year old woman, mother of two sons, could ever want. I am so fortunate, so lucky. Life is good, wonderful, and worth every hardship along the way, every obstacle, every snare, every tangle.' She wished Adrien were there. They all did.
Wish You Were Here
Pink Floyd
Authors Note: Thank you for reading my book. This book was written with my children, Theodore and David, in mind. It is also in honor of veterans and all soldiers, everywhere. It is also in honor of America, a great country and all the young people, here, now, yesterday and tomorrow. And, this novel honors those who love deeply and truly, and try their best throughout everything and anything.
I am still editing and revising my novel, American Boys. Last night, I was up late, sitting on my bed, writing on my laptop, editing chapters, until my back ached.
Here is how to read it: go to this blog, thenewhumnitylives.blogspot.com, or google my name, my blog and the name of the book, or enter my new humanity blog through facebook. Go back to 2012, starting with January, The chapters will be dispersed through every month, including June, where Adrien's Story, which proceeds chapter nine, is for now placed, because that is when it was written, and is the only chapter without a number. There is an introduction and addendum, but I am still planning to write a complete epilogue, when I have some uninterrupted time.
I write for two reasons, I enjoy it, and I am trying to make a statement, and I hope that my book really means something.
Last night, I openly discussed my book, with my son David, and admitted that my character, Daniel, was supposed to be him, but not exactly. I told his friend, Patrick, who was present as well, that one of my characters reminded me of him, and others matched other friends of David's, and Nicolas is a little like Ted, my older son, even though in the book Nicolas is younger than Daniel.
I talked to the kids, young men I mean, about the book, the characters, and I asked David and Patrick both, being musicians in totally different genres, if the musical ideas in my book were possible. Patrick thought so, and David tried it out on guitar, but David did not get why, if Daniel is supposed to be him, why Daniel didn't sing, since David is a singer, so I edited my book, the chapter about Adrien's funeral, and I made Daniel a singer. I also changed Adrien's favorite song, which Daniel played at his military funeral, from Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin, to Wishing You Were Here by Pink Floyd. I was thinking Stairway to Heaven represented dying, but Patrick agreed that Wishing You Were Here worked for that as well. At first, truthfully, David said, "can't he have a better favorite song than, Stairway to Heaven?"
So, even though it is implied that everything is working out just dandy, I decided to catch things up, like I did in chapter 8.
As I went back to work on chapter 12, I realized that I needed to go more into Lizzy's inner life, and how Adrien's death brought her to a new understanding and depth.
I think there is a turning point for everyone, and all relationships. For example, Nicolas's turning point is his friendship with Sky, having a friend, which he longed so much for. Daniel's is getting to know his grandparents, going to college, and falling in love for the first time, with a girl who loves him back, and understands his eye disease.
Lizzy's parents, Jack and Tara White have a turning point by accepting Lizzy and their grandchildren back into their life, after years of estrangement, helping Daniel go to school, and accepting their differences with Lizzy.
Lizzy's turning point is the realization that she wants to be with Jim, and not Charlie, the realization that alcohol is a crutch for her, that she is too wrapped up in herself, that she has the ability and compassion to do for others more, besides her own family, that others have it hard too, and the realization that she ought to be close to her parents again.
Last but not least, Adrien, who is the only character in the entire book, that I write in first person. He is writing his diary, in Iraq, and he is so unhappy, struggling and homesick. His demise is heartbreaking, shattering, and somehow I think that even he feels it coming. I do not know why. He does not say that - well all I can say is read it, if you have time, and tell me what you think. Eventually, I hope to get someone to actually help me edit this book, but for now, it is what it is.
Although it does not seem so to some, there is a right, and there is a wrong. I am reading a murder mystery, which takes place in Venice. A woman is talking to a lawyer, and she asks him, "if you could have prevented a crime, have you committed one, if you did nothing to stop it?"
He says, "yes and no, ethically yes," and this is exactly what has been discussed on CNN. If Tamarlan's wife had called the police, at least the officer would not have been shot, and although complete evidence has not been announced, because FBI are still questioning Kate Russell, mother of their three year old child, and much of it is probably being kept under the hush hush. Still, I wonder if she knew what he was up to. So, this is a very important question, posed by this character to the lawyer, in this novel I am listening to.
There is a right, and there is a wrong. We all know that fascism, Nazism, racism, terrorism, murder, stealing, cruelty, any type of abuse, from bullying to sexual abuse, to pedophilia, to any type of rape or torture, even towards terrorists, is wrong. Cruelty to animals is a terrible thing, as well, of course, as all of us, animal lovers, well know.
Well, apparently, the not so old, U.S. government seemed to think water boarding was okay, but now we know it is not, nor is any type of torture, one thing we can thank Obama for, although some people I know do not believe the government, but I am not a conspiracy theory believer. I do not believe any of that 911 rhetoric, that some extreme liberals believe, and I find it offensive and un-American, something for which I do not, and will not ever be apologetic for. In fact, I cannot stand hearing that stuff.
Back to point, integrity is the important thing. It is foremost in every facet of life. Have I always had it, in every situation? No, but when I haven't, it has only brought me to misery, lack of sleep, and truly being 'undone.'
For example, perhaps this belongs on my other blog, Sage Words, because that is where most of my relationship stuff, etc., goes and The New Humanity is my novel, poetry, religion, philosophy, art, politics, ethics, history, etc., but if you are in a relationship, romantically, and you want to end it, because another party is involved, like someone you think you would rather be with, for whatever reason, if you do not tell the person you do not want to be with any longer, the real reason, that there is someone else, you are doing them and yourself a disservice.
At the time, it may feel like you want to perpetuate that person's longing for you, because your ego might be getting off on it, especially if they treated you badly in the past, and you cannot believe how much he or she wants you, now that you no longer want him or her. You may be savoring their heart broken feelings, as sick as that is, but not really because it is actually very painful to break a heart, because it can break your heart too. Still, if you do not want to tell them that you really want to be with someone else, than it will just get messier. Usually, if someone is intuitive, like I am, they will know instinctively, because they will feel it. By withholding the information, to save face, is a big mistake, because it will 'undo' you, in the end. I do not really engage in any of that these days, but I have been though it both ways. The difference with me, is I will no longer waste my time, and I have some psychic ability, where I know if someone is seeing someone else, even if they are far away, but you know the signs.
I think the reason why people have a hard time telling the truth, when it comes to being with someone else, or trying to be, is the realization that, doing that will really mean the end of things. The person who finds out the truth, you think, may not see you as angelic anymore, but why do you have to be angelic? I mean, what is the purpose for dragging it all out? Sometimes, knowing you are with someone else, makes the last person want you more. Sometimes, it is almost impossible to get rid of someone, and sometimes someone will keep wanting you, no matter what. The point is, I think being honest always makes it easier.
I think one reason why some people do not tell the truth about that, is that they want a safety net, are co-dependent, want someone to fall back to, want their cake and eat it too, and are afraid of abandonment, so will go to any length to escape real or imagined abandonment, which is actually the definition, practically, or part of the definition for BPD, borderline personality disorder, a mental illness that can effect men and women both, but more often women. It stems from a feeling of abandonment, starting in infancy, causing one to feel a fear of annihilation, exposure to the cold, and being left helpless, causing rage, and a propensity for drama, alcohol abuse, risky behavior, eating disorders, and/or other of several traits and behaviors, that can also resemble bipolar disorder or manic depression, which is why the two illnesses can be easily confused, because they are similar, but not exactly alike. People can actually recover, and grow out of borderline personality, because it is not exactly a chemical disorder as much as other mental illnesses. People with BPD are not 'bad people,' and they are very misunderstood. People use the term borderline personality disorder in the wrong context. I hear that from time to time, not so much as several years ago, when people were less informed.
But, I do not know how I got on the subject of mental illness. I want to get back to the ethics and integrity subject, or morals if you will.
Einstein said, "watching evil, and doing nothing is worse than evil, itself." I think he is right, and so knowing that a crime is going to be committed and doing nothing, is really bad.
I feel like a lot of the news is crazy. Truthfully, I felt the cop was acting fascist towards Reese Witherspoon. I do not think she deserved to be arrested, no matter what anyone says. Then, they go on and on about Chris, not sure how to spell his last name, the Republican politician, who lost weight. I mean what does it matter, whether he lost weight for his health, his family, himself, or to run for any office including president? If I could only drink a shot of something strong, for every time I hear about that.
It is like how Andrew Young and John Edwards' staff, according to Young's book, drank a shot every time Edwards' said, "small town boy," or "coal miner's son." Gees. Oh, and of course, the John Mellencamp song, Small Town Boy, was playing every time he came out to campaign, requiring a shot of alcohol, as well.
Wow, that was lack of integrity, and cheating. I did not vote yesterday, speaking of spousal cheating, not for 'Appalachian Trail' Mark Sanford, nor for Elizabeth Cobair Bushe, for South Carolina Congress, my reasons being something I would rather not get into.
Anyway, we are all living the new life, in one way or another, no one special, everyone special, some lucky, some not so lucky, no answers, nothing making sense. Only faith, to grab onto. They say, "faith without works is dead." So, what do you do? I say just putting one foot in front of the other, pulling up the big girl/boy pants, and keep on keeping on. Be kind, when the opportunity arises, try to help if asked, be humble. I don't know. I guess, just trying to do the right thing, as best you can, is all you can do. Most people are good, not all, most selfish, to some degree, and a little selfishness can be healthy for over doers, for others, boundaries. I would like to drink a shot to toast boundaries. Namaste. Not really drinking shots, by the way, in case you were wondering, lol.
"It's a crazy, crazy, mixed up world, but it's the rattlesnake I fear..." Live
What an insane world, where terrorists plant backpacks with bombs, injuring over a hundred people and killing three, including a child, maiming a child, and many others. They also assassinated a police officer. What an insane world where a guy gets terrorist information on a computer, with his wife and kid in the apartment, small apartment.
What a crazy, mixed up world, where a bill cannot even pass, that would require background checks on guns, when so many gun violence incidents occur, so often it seems, killing innocent kids at school, for crying out loud. For the love of God, what is happening?
I read a book about this Austrian guy, who imprisoned his own daughter for twenty four years, in a dungeon, where she had her own father's children, all alone. How sick is that? It was the incest case that shocked the whole world. The laws in Europe are lenient, but he fortunately for everyone else, got the strongest sentence, life in prison, and of course other prisoners hated him. They hate pedophiles in prison. In fact, most people hate pedophiles, because what they do is evil. He was so cruel. It is hard to believe his wife, her mother, did not know that while they and the other kids lived upstairs, Elizabeth was in a sound proof basement, with her children born from incest. Apparently, the mother was found innocent. He had told everyone that Elizabeth had run off with a cult, and they were only freed when her nineteen year old daughter, Kirstin, became extremely sick, and Elizabeth begged him to let her go to the hospital. He kept having Elizabeth write notes, in her own hand writing, backing his lies, that she had run off and joined a cult. It was only when Kirsten ended up deathly ill, in the hospital, that doctors got suspicious, demanded to see her mother, and called the police, who interrogated Elizabeth, and her father separately. She lied at first, and had stockholm syndrome, but when they told her that she never had to see her father again, she told them everything.
She and her children were treated for mental and physical ailments, at the Mayo Clinic, and they thrived. She had been very strong, and had taken really good care of the children. She disowned her mother for a while, but eventually forgave her. There is no indication that, Rosemary, her mother, who lived upstairs with the other children, Elizabeth's siblings, and the three that Fritzl, the father, brought upstairs, had any knowledge that they were down in a dungeon, which he told everyone, including tenants he had, to stay away from, and had totally soundproofed. Elizabeth and her children had had to dig out other rooms, when she had asked for more space, so the kids would not see him having sex with her. He used tapes of Elizabeth's voice from a payphone, to call Rosemary, and say that she was abandoning another child from the cult.
He was a complete pathological liar, and sex offender, had even served time for a rape, which is not a long time there, like it is here in The States, fifteen years here, only a few months there. He was a monster, to say the least, and disgustingly sleazy, described in the captions, as being in a leopard speedo, on
the beach, in Thailand. Yuck!
While he was gone, anything could have happened to Elizabeth and her children, who never saw daylight, or had fresh air, had severe vitamin D deficiencies, tooth decay, infections, etc., were never able to see a doctor or dentist, while he was off on vacations, because no one knew they were down there, and they could have starved. They never got enough oxygen. In fact, every detective, who investigated the dungeon, had to have trauma counseling, after going through there. Musty objects, from the dungeon, were passed around for the jury to see, feel, and smell. They also showed the jury a video of Elizabeth telling the whole horrible story, starting with being raped by her father, at age eleven. The jury had to take breaks from watching it, because it was so traumatic and disturbing. Of course, they had had Elizabeth record this bit by bit, as well, to save her from the trauma of it. I think she may have healed, to some degree, she got a settlement, and she is said to be living with her boyfriend now, who was her bodyguard. They became very famous in Austria. The house even became a place of sight seeing, but they moved out of that house. Even Rosemary moved out, but she had some financial problems, unlike Elizabeth, who was okay financially, because Fritzl had gotten them millions of dollars, in debt. What a wasted piece of space he was, to say the least, the scum of the earth.
Finally free, Elizabeth and the children were able to get the medical care they needed. There were eight children, including twins, one of which died, and Fritzl had put in the incinerator, and got no medical help for, so all in all there were seven, or six, I cannot remember, because he brought some upstairs, at various times, pretending they had been abandoned by Elizabeth, who had (falsely been said to have) allegedly run off to a cult. He was so evil and conniving.
Elizabeth and the children were given new Social Security numbers, as well as names to protect their identity.
Now, these girls in Ohio, are finally free after ten years, in captivity, and that is being investigated. Like Fritzl, the man who held those girls, acted normal, worked and interacted with the community. What an awful world.
After reading the book about the Austrian story, I became a little paranoid, like if I saw a man, when I was out walking, I got scared, and ran away, or walked fast, terrified of being kidnapped or something.
I know these are not pleasant things to think about, but they happen. I realize this is no new humanity, and that is my point. These are terrible times. If I were to just write about peace, love, joy, yoga, meditation, A Course in Miracles, Meher Baba, religion and philosophy, I would not be addressing the horror of our times, which have been occurring. Some people do not read or watch the news, or read books like the ones I sometimes do, but what is the point in putting one's head in the sand? I feel that Elizabeth and her children's story ends on a positive note, as I hope is the case with the girls in Ohio, the young women and the child. People are resilient, and the strength of victims should be an inspiration to others. Their power was taken away, but they took their power back!!! At a certain point in time, they got an opportunity, although brain washed and victims of stockholm syndrome, knowing nothing else, to take their power back, and come free, come back to the world.
Anyone, who has been a victim of rape or any type of sexual abuse, in any way, or of any kind, has to heal from that. I cannot even imagine what these people go through after years of this, and it is not just girls, but boys too.
As we all know, the indigenous people of our country got a really unfair deal. Under Andrew Jackson, with the 'Indian Removal Act,' and the Trail of Tears, as a result, Native Americans having to leave North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Georgia, leading those who survived the perilous journey, to Oklahoma and Arkansas, mountains. 
