We need to stop bickering over labels like capitalism/socialism/communism and realize that a rational approach to resource management taking into account future generations, finite resources, renewable options, and mutual benefit can be worked out. Ultimately, this could result in greater personal freedom on other than financial dimensions.



The koolaid party of the current US administration would never have been able to wreak the havoc they have without the thoughtless cooperation of the US press and the US people. I know we 21st Century Americans have busy, hectic, stressed-out lives, but we do bother to voice our concerns all the time about all kinds of issues, petty and large. We just need to do it more strategically. That is, if we really want a more sanely managed union.



I find it very sad that politics so seriously gets in the way of doing the people's work.



What's important in a good fantasy is what's important in any story: intriguing plot that keeps you going; strongly delineated characters that you care about; tight, descriptive writing that doesn't get in the way. I hate that whole genre of cutesy fantasy or stilted language or self-indulgent adolescent revenge setting up one's alter-ego main character to be the oh so put upon oh so perfect.

Tell a story. Tell it well.



I was watching the oral arguments on C-SPAN last night. After hearing the stories of those imprisoned without access to justice (or what we use to pass for it), and the twisted interpretation of law used to allow for this, I was proud that our Supreme Court saw the error of these ways. But those dissenters, I have to question not only their humanity, but their loyalty to or even understanding of the significance of rule by law.



Ah commerce!
Put those quarters in the slot
paying for the privilege
of joining the social world.



The mind is a wonderful playmate



I recently watched a show about technology on PBS. A few decades back computers were huge mega-expensive instruments that did very little compared to today. People did the research, the engineering, the what-ifs and the try-this and how can we apply what we have found in more ingenious ways. Getting off the oil addiction is more a matter of attitude than anything. Doesn't mean we can't still use it where it works best, while freeing up limited nonrenewable resources using renewables wherever practical.



The big lie doesn't have to be so big. With the designer media, everyone going to the source of their side's talking points, truth is just another flavor in the mix, not even a favored one.



Let God be God. We don't have to condemn people out of misguided ideas of what God wants. God is perfectly capable of getting exactly what it wants. Apparently sexuality is more complicated than a means of reproduction. Seems like we are meant to learn lessons about being human with bodies and minds. Condemning those who seem different is not only a waste of time, but a waste of soul.



Astrology is not something to "believe" in. It is a system of knowledge, very complex, yet very simple. It can be a lifelong obsession. It can be a source of information to check out along with other information to make decisions or plans. Mostly, I like the insight it gives me into people's complex motivations and diverse ways of being.



It seems that the paradigm for discussion is to find the areas in which we disagree and then do our best to pummel, put down, vilify "you" for your stupid/unpatriotic/whiney/evil (Hitler-like?)/naive/name your insult ideas. You know what the obvious result is: divisive hateful war. If our true goal is to work toward policies of benefit to all of us, wouldn't the better paradigm be one of respect for the dignity of each and all, looking for the areas in which we agree, and building from there?



Basically, we are all bisexual, along a continuum. There is no big deal about trying out a kiss when there is a mutual attraction. Making a big deal about it is what can lead to emotional distress. The important points are in regard to how kids learn to be in relationship, that there is a great deal more to look for than attraction or sexual expression.



Why? Because the systems that were supposed to be in place to keep such an event from so easily occurring were obviously not appropriately in place. I'm not talking about surveillance (electronic or otherwise) of citizens or other people going about normal business, or about sending potent weapon messages to destroy designated enemies. I'm talking about simple everyday air traffic control, tracking airplanes to keep them from going off course without any corrective measures. I am talking about teaching aircraft personnel to handle unexpected, dangerous situations. I am talking about making sure there are appropriate exit strategies in case of fire or other disaster in high rise buildings. It's not about good or evil. The devil is in the details.



At the core of the economic crisis in the US are the funds being tracked to Iraq, but more fundamentally, the widespread unconscionable
culture of usury, eating at the backbone of the everyday workers who hold up society.




No one will give me a credible, intelligent answer. What does it mean to "win" in this Iraq invasion/occupation/destruction/disaster?



There is something to be said for sides coming in each with their entrenched position, and discussion/arguing/debating learning from each other and experts, moving each toward a more realistic position. I think they call this the job of the Congressional Houses in our democratic constitutional republic. The problem is, it's not even about entrenched positions that good people have come to in their quests to improve the lives of Americans. It is about being entrenched to be entrenched, to play to some constituency, when the constituency is supposed to be the American people, all of us.



Just think, after all the Clinton "vetting" and whatever the Republican hate machine does, all they can do is come up with specious sins of supporters or acquaintances, the old harangue about "no experience" and the general word-twisting we all know so well.



I have read that the most effective way to stop/prevent men from abusing women is to get them to understand that this behavior is in no way condoned or permitted. It amazes me that guys will stand around putting down some woman, implying or out right saying she deserves to be beaten or otherwise abused. These are not so-called "sick" weirdos, but normal guys having a few drinks (or not), letting off steam (or not). I see guys on the street beating on a woman or child and I go up and make an issue of it, while big strong men walk right by pretending not to see.



Get off the drug. Talk to the prescribing physician, or whatever dr. you are consulting and do what it takes, usually gradually decreasing the dosage. There are so many better treatments for depression than most of these drugs. Some drugs do work well for some particular individuals sometimes, but the argument has been you take the drug for a short term while working on the underlying issues manifesting as the symptoms you wish to lose. The drug is not a real cure, and it can bring on other effects that make life so much harder.



I keep wondering about the talking points everyone seems to want to get in on about Senator Obama's lack of experience. He may not have been President of the United States before, but looking over those who have many have not learned usefully. He has an incredible wealth of life experience? Have any of you done anywhere near what he has? Don't tell me we don't know anything about him. Read his autobiographies, listen to his speeches (on the web where they are archived), read his resume. Hey, pretend you are looking him over as a potential hire. Just exactly what "experience" are you expecting will give you a President who will work for us as we would wish?



The point of the American democratic system was to promote a continual stream of citizen activists who care enough about freedom to fight for it, not in war but in education and community involvement.

The point of the "change" in the Obama campaign is that we change our attitudes and get together to get done what is needed for all of us to benefit.



Learn to trust yourself as your one true spiritual teacher. It's all a journey. Of course, find fellow travelers along the way to share the moment. Learn what you can from each other, and each other as you meet.



I have been thinking that we as society are technologically at a point where we could seriously look at some underlying economic assumptions, how they have failed to benefit us and our ecosystems, and start the work of revamping. We have basically just let our economies, systems of goods/services creation and distribution, happen, based on political more than practical concerns. We need to move toward a system, or series of systems, or diversity of systems, directly addressing the well-being of people and planet. There is so much needless suffering, stupid destruction, and divisiveness to the points of war and genocide that could so easily be eradicated with appropriate thought and action.


His legacy was her destiny. It didn't matter that she never realized what he was about while he was alive.

The scent of lilacs would not let her think beyond the sweet times. She told herself it was a private journey, that this was just a rough patch. Walking memories of past action, resultant chaos, she was ready to contemplate a process of remapping, of moving the puzzle pieces into a new configuration. His ghost would not let her.

The root paradox of arousal and defeat that marked his life seemed to actively desire a continuation through her. Only by turning, facing who he had been, finding the beauty behind his agony, could she hope to move beyond his legacy, her destiny.



My experience is that so-called education (the formal kind) is about destroying native creativity in favor of teaching to standards and expectations. Yet, creativity is what we need to further both individual and societal problem-solving.



But there are so very many who do evil in the name of doing their God's will. People don't do good or bad because God/dad is watching. They do what they are given to believe by other people that they can get away with. Sometimes they do what they are given to believe will be applauded by their acknowledged peers or community, like torturing/murdering/destroying those deemed "not of us".



And we need to teach, not preach. We need to have real dialogs and listen to each others' concerns, questions, ideas and fears. We as adults need to understand that children are not a different species, but actual living human beings, right now, not just some pre-human preparing to join the race someday. We need to tell them the truth, and give them resources to find the truths we do not have ourselves.



Yes, turn on your black lights and groove
Tell those old blues to move on to the dance floor
What wonderful waste-lines to lose
For soft summer nights they made romance for
Eat, drink, make merry, rejoice
Never believe that you don't have that choice



blame the Lord, blame the children, blame the mad
find the fault that took away what we thought we had
yet this chaotic scrambling's not our fate
but the poisoned fruits we're fed as slaves of hate



It amazes me that so-called conservatives are so, well, profligate of our national resources. It is as if they are convinced that some major upheaval will turn all past to naught, perhaps Armageddon? In any case, we do need a new economic paradigm, outside the capitalist/socialist,communist box which actually addresses our needs as the human community dependent on the resources of our planet.




mirror neurons let you dance by watching others
motor neurons let you dance by moving to the music in whatever way you comfortably can
body/mind connection, ain't it wonderful!



We are not masses, though we may be mass. We are each individually educable, even in large groups. Mostly it's a matter of motivation, teaching from where we are using what we are already familiar with and then branching out making sure everyone is being carried along, eliciting any questions or confusions and addressing them appropriately, seeing what has been learned and what is still needed through appropriate applied knowledge projects.



Not to take these conditions of horror lightly, but women have been treated like excrement all over the world, including very much right here. We don't have domestic violence laws, shelters, counselors, and ptsd treatments because it is a rare occurrence. Women are killed every day right here in the USA by irate husbands, lovers, just plain stalkers. Women are raped by husbands, strangers, dates, bosses, family members, often seriously injured or killed in the process. Implying we have nothing more serious to protest about than "glass ceilings" is a macabre insult.



Hooray for you and your energy awareness. I know you will find a way to do it, starting with research and creating the best energy solutions for your situation. Perhaps you could even go on to spread the information you find, even make a business of it. You see how this information is valuable and not generally known. The way we, all of us, are going to get beyond the crises of the moment is to see them as opportunities are find our inner ingenuity.



Water is amazing. Like energy, food, and many other necessities it is becoming over-harvested and laid to waste. Purification and more rational systems of distribution need to be promoted. It's a lot more than a metaphor.



It is all about making money. Logically, we need to move toward an economic paradigm including costs to the environment, the populace such as health costs, and generally stewardship of resources in the costs of doing business.



Rather than tax as such, why not stop giving advantages to businesses selling these unclean energies and give incentives to clean energy alternatives?



I want the old 2000 straight-talking rebel McCain back. I want him back in 2000, as the Republican candidate, even the 43rd President. In fact, I was ready to vote for him back then. Then, evil demon Rove turned him into an also-ran, and apparently damaged his brain and integrity as well.



Is love a zero sum game?
Does anger over long division
diminish returns?
Is hope an emotion,
a mathematical possibility?
Will infinite sadness exponentiate
negativity?
Does it all add up
to experiential lessons
leading to a higher equation?



Have we ever had a conservative president? I guess that depends on who is doing the defining of "conservative" which seems to be up for grabs. We don't seem to want conservative values, just to force everyone to be virtuous according to selected principles involving sex and restricted speech. Oh, and it helps if they get us into totally stupid wars that drain our finances, kill our common-class kids, and let us look all macho.



Taking chemicals will not teach anyone to focus. I can see taking medication to combat infections, boost immune systems, dissolve obstructions, physical disorders with obvious cause/effect to indicate specific chemical aid. This explosion of ordering dangerous chemicals be taken by children for behavioral problems is just plain crazy. Cognitive/behavioral problems are best solved by education and exercises.



What if, indeed. What if we could actually have a marketplace, of goods/services/ideas that responded to each of our needs because we wouldn't have it any other way?



The God of the Jews, who later became the God of the Christians, Muslims, Mormons, and probably others, was a lesser Middle Eastern deity at the time that the Jews were slaves in Egypt. He was fully aware that there were other Gods, but exhorted his followers "thou shalt have no other gods before me." He was described as a jealous god who had his followers smite those who mocked him. Christians apparently worship both the Father and the Son, not seeing Jesus as a prophet, but as himself divine.

If you are speaking of the one pantheistic spirit that is manifested in all of creation, I am inclined to agree. However, note that these manifestations are sometimes of spiritual godheads, denizens of the spiritual world, which are worshipped by spiritual beings manifested in the physical world known as humans.



A lot of people don't seek professional help because they don't want to be in the system or coerced into taking dangerous pharmaceuticals. There are many treatments which are based more on respect for the dignity of those suffering. There are also other ways of framing what are otherwise seen as symptoms of depression. Sometimes people are so overwhelmed by lack of control in their lives that they in effect give in and die while still physically functioning. Sometimes people have energy fluctuations which they have not learned to understand and make room for in their lives. Sometimes people have chronic pain or illness which saps their energy. Often highly creative people will burn out on a project and need down time. Suicide is sometimes mistakenly seen as an appropriate transformation, when a spiritual transformation is taking place in a society that does not support that.



We so often jump to "it must be that ego; if I could be good and selfless I would reap the reward of virtue." We forget that virtue is very much its own reward, the virtue of actually accepting and living in the true joy always available to us. As you point out, we need our egos, and all our other parts. We are who we are to be who we are in the best sense, not to cripple ourselves by cutting out what we have come to mistakenly believe are unattractive parts.



Save the Economy; Save the Children

Create the 8th Grade Year Small Business Practicum to be available to all students in public schools. The first week will be one of general discussion of what is involved in starting and maintaining a business. Students will then brainstorm about what kind of business they want to start. Interspersed are exercises to get everyone to know one another's abilities, skills, strengths, weaknesses, interactive styles and personality characteristics.

The students are then assigned to research possible business options, which might best succeed in their environment, local needs that can be addressed, the resources needed to make their business a success. As the year goes on, the business is formed and maintained. Students are offered ways of locating resources to help them learn what they need to do along the way. A multi-disciplinary advisor group of teachers makes suggestions and are available for consultation and skills training. Local business people are recruited as consultants and to give guest lectures to the class.

The students decide how any profits are to be distributed. After the class year, any students who wish to may continue their businesses. They are also welcome to give guest lectures and act as advisors to subsequent classes.





Any graphic artists who would like to collaborate on my as yet graphic-less "graphic novel"? Without the graphics, it is merely a novelette.

http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977172809&nav=MyGather


Any poetry more performers who would like to perform my poem, "strangling heaven"? with great thanks to Divinity Rose and a virtual ovation!!

http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977282905&nav=MyGather


Any performance group who would like to perform my piece "Gaea"?

http://lunaramble.blogspot.com/2008/04/back-for-earth-week-gaea-ritual.html


Any visionary artists who would like to submit work to Emerging Visions visionary art ezine #12, theme title: "Jung @ Heart"?

Watch for the next call, expected shortly after the Solstice, for Emerging
Visions visionary art ezine #12, working theme title: Jung at Heart ~
hopefully emerging in deepest July (or the early light of August) ~

The working theme title for #12 is "Jung at
Heart". I find it easier to work the collage with a running theme.
They are usually associated with the astrological influence at the
time of "emergence" of the issue. #12 is due out during the
astrological month of Leo, around Jung's birthday. Leo rules youth
and heart. What I am hoping to get are works relating to fairytales,
youth archetypes, playfulness, creativity, childlike wonder, and
such. If you have something for the issue, please do send it.

http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com/2008/02/submission-guidelines.html

libramoon42@mindspring.com

Posted on Friday 18 of July, 2008 [21:22:11 UTC]

Save the Economy; Save the Children

Create the 8th Grade Year Small Business Practicum to be available to all students in public schools. The first week will be one of general discussion of what is involved in starting and maintaining a business. Students will then brainstorm about what kind of business they want to start. Interspersed are exercises to get everyone to know one another's abilities, skills, strengths, weaknesses, interactive styles and personality characteristics.

The students are then assigned to research possible business options, which might best succeed in their environment, local needs that can be addressed, the resources needed to make their business a success. As the year goes on, the business is formed and maintained. Students are offered ways of locating resources to help them learn what they need to do along the way. A multi-disciplinary advisor group of teachers makes suggestions and are available for consultation and skills training. Local business people are recruited as consultants and to give guest lectures to the class.

The students decide how any profits are to be distributed. After the class year, any students who wish to may continue their businesses. They are also welcome to give guest lectures and act as advisors to subsequent classes.

Posted on Wednesday 18 of June, 2008 [07:58:36 UTC]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sd8sirz99zo

Phil Ochs - Crucifixion



Easter

Gentle rosy raindrops of a mellow morning,

Children make the day — it's spring.

I thought of Jesus in Church this morning,

nailed to His cross in long ago Jerusalem,

arising to springtime, the earth's reawakening.

It's a time for children and games of childhood,

a time for playing with love,

secret smiles and daisy chains.

It's a time for the simple and natural

A time for anointing the soul in peace

after the ravages of winter.

A time for gentle things

like newborn kittens

and flowerbuds after the rain.

I am slowly relearning the healing strength of love,

Slowly relearning the simple pleasures of humanity.

Life is sweet, poignant,

a drifting melody.

Posted on Sunday 23 of March, 2008 [04:17:31 UTC]

A monster?
More like a reverse butterfly
-- a noble creature turning into a worm.
Samantha is not the power
that is corrupting brave Hillary.
I say this not in anger, but in sorrow.
Turning in principles for power
is selling your soul in bits and pieces.
Eventually you become something
that is called a monster in archetypal realms.
Being a monster does not show up in birth charts.
It can happen to anyone.
libramoon






Samantha Power:

"Here, it looks like desperation. I hope it looks like desperation there, too. "You just look at her and think, 'Ergh'. But if you are poor and she is telling you some story about how Obama is going to take your job away, maybe it will be more effective. The amount of deceit she has put forward is really unattractive."

http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/latestnews/Inside-US-poll-battle-as.3854371.jp

This was not hysterical invective. I don't see her saying: gather the villagers with the torches, Hillary Clinton is a monster. She used common hyperbole, as any of us might when describing someone we see going over the top.

We do indeed see the stories, over and over, despite the firm and cogent debunking from Senator Obama that he is not a fundamentalist Muslim, has very well thought out and articulated policies, is not pie in the sky kumbaya air-brained, has a whole lifetime of experience working on issues that are important to voters, etc.

I feel to some extent betrayed by Senator Clinton's turning to tactics of "the vast right-wing conspiracy," dare I say even "Rovian." I find these tactics not only offensive, but stupidly unnecessary. Senator Clinton's campaign would be much better served by engaging with the American people around issues we care about with a clear understanding of how we can all work together with the benefit of her leadership. This turning to the dark side only makes her less credible to me, and, I am sure, to may other voters. If you look at the breakdowns, it seems that Hillary's constituent base has shaken out to the less educated, more ignorant of self-identified Democrats. Such ignorance can be diminished with education, an area in which former professor Obama has plenty of experience. It is not only wrong for us, the American public, but bad for her image, I sincerely believe, to go viciously negative. After all, in the experience arena, John McCain is clearly ahead. What the Democratic candidate must offer is compassion, clear-headedness, and an ability to rise above the fray. Somebody really needs to tell Senator Clinton and her advisors this.

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2008/02/18/samantha_power/
Getting through these dark times
Foreign policy whiz Samantha Power sheds light on a legendary diplomat killed in Iraq, advising Barack Obama and how America can emerge from the Bush era.
By Leigh Flayton

Feb. 18, 2008 | In 2003, Samantha Power won a Pulitzer Prize for her book "A Problem From Hell: America and the Age of Genocide," in which she chronicled the United States' responses to the major genocides of the 20th century. But that's just one of her accomplishments. Power, 37, is a Harvard professor and founder of that university's Carr Center for Human Rights Policy. She is a prominent voice on stopping the genocide in Darfur, Sudan, and addressing numerous trouble spots around the world. She has shot hoops with fellow Darfur activist George Clooney, and once proclaimed herself the "genocide chick."

Beneath her sense of humor is a fierce idealism and dedication to improving world affairs. Now, Power is immersed in what she considers the toughest challenge yet in her action-packed career: serving as a senior foreign policy advisor to Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama.

The demands of that job have only risen since she first began working for Obama when he joined the U.S. Senate in 2005. But Power also found time to produce another book, published last week: "Chasing the Flame: Sergio Vieira de Mello and the Fight to Save the World." The new volume is a biography of the revered United Nations envoy — once described as a cross between Bobby Kennedy and James Bond — who was killed in the catastrophic bombing of U.N. headquarters in Baghdad by insurgents during the early stages of the U.S. occupation of Iraq. The book is also a treatise on why the world needs the U.N., and the lessons Vieira de Mello learned throughout his career, now more than ever.

"He is the man for dark times," Power says of Vieira de Mello, whom former U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan once called the U.N.'s "go-to guy." "He had a 35-year head start thinking about how to mend broken people and broken places, these questions that are consuming us now."

During Vieira de Mello's career with the U.N., as Power details, he met with members of the Khmer Rouge and Serbian genocidaires, his attempts to broker peace with the latter earning him the nickname "Serbio." Power says she sees a strong synergy between Vieira de Mello's principles and Obama's concept of foreign policy — with their emphasis on justice, human rights, security and, perhaps most controversially, direct diplomatic engagement with foreign adversaries.

Power sat down with Salon recently in New York for a wide-ranging conversation about Vieira de Mello's legacy, going to work for Obama and the colossal challenges facing whichever candidate becomes the next U.S. president.

Your new book is out and you've been on the road with Sen. Obama. Are you having fun?

I'm not having as much fun as you would expect because I don't know that I've ever taken anything so seriously. I think the campaign is the most important thing I've ever been associated with. So I'm really tense and actually quite miserable.

How did you end up working for Sen. Obama?

His office called me when he began serving in the U.S. Senate in early 2005. He had just read "A Problem From Hell" and wanted to meet to discuss fixing American foreign policy. I thought, "Well that's interesting — clearly he's in some other league." I mean, who spends Christmas reading a dark book on genocide? No other politician had ever contacted me to discuss it.

We were supposed to meet for only an hour but ended up meeting for three or four hours at a steakhouse. Suddenly it was almost midnight and I heard myself saying to him, "Why don't I just quit my job at Harvard and work in your office for a year or whatever?" I didn't even know what I was proposing, but he said, "Great."

How did you make the leap from journalist to going to work for a political candidate?

I got into journalism not to be a journalist but to try to change American foreign policy. I'm a corny person. I was a dreamer predating my journalistic life, so I got into journalism as a means to try to change the world. I didn't get into journalism by any means to win a Pulitzer Prize or do anything like that. Back then, I was obsessed with what was going on in Bosnia. I went over there because of that; I tried to get a job at NGOs ... But I didn't wait this long to work for a candidate because I was such a hardcore reporter. It was because I never met anybody worth doing it for before.

You were born in Dublin, Ireland, and grew up mainly in the United States. How did you come to write about genocide?

I read about the Holocaust in college at Yale University. Right around the time I graduated there were the concentration camps out of Bosnia with these emaciated men behind barbed wire. And I could tell a long story about why that moved me ... but it was so moving.

Genocide was the lens for me. And you can see genocide whether you go to Rwanda or you don't go to Rwanda, but you still have to figure out a way to inject concern for human beings into our foreign policy. This is what was so gratifying to me about the way Obama read "A Problem From Hell" — for him it was about fixing American foreign policy.

What is the biggest foreign policy challenge for the next president?

The next president is really going to have to walk and chew gum at the same time, because no long-term peace in the Middle East is possible until we get some kind of modus vivendi in the Arab-Israeli situation. And then the singular challenge is being handed two wars, two live battlefields — and one of them in the heart of the Middle East. It can't be an afterthought as it was in the Bush administration.

Afghanistan is a hugely important theater — and of course we neglected it by going to war in Iraq. We probably should not fall prey to this romantic idea that simply by getting out of Iraq and retraining our resources on Afghanistan that solves the problem. We have major deficiencies with what the international system is capable of in terms of reconstruction and development, and that's ultimately what will stabilize Afghanistan — stop the resurgence of the Taliban, temper the violence, stave off the outbreak of widespread civil war. But while you do that you have to get the other train running: building up infrastructure, roads and schools, the things that are going to actually stabilize the country long term.

And along with all that the next president will have to keep an eye on Lebanon, North Korea, Darfur, China as an economic and geopolitical dynamo, and Russia and its regional adventurism.

In light of all the questioning of Obama's "experience," you've said he has dirt under his fingernails, and that he would bring a new America to the world. How would he do that?

The idea that he doesn't have experience is nuts to me. He's a constitutional law professor. I happen to miss the Constitution; I thought it was a good document. That's a huge component of being a president when you're combating terrorism and you're trying to restore American values.

The fact that he used to work in the inner city, that's the dirt under his fingernails. If people are an abstraction to you, it's going to show. If you're living with people, if you're working in the inner city, you see the human stakes of it all. He's also lived abroad, so he's comfortable crossing boundaries.

You've said that the Bush administration has diminished the U.S. government's credibility among its own citizens. Can the next president fix that?

I don't think the next president can just show up and have it restored. Whoever wins is probably going to win by a narrow margin. One of the reasons Obama is so appealing to me is that he doesn't take the American people for granted; you don't stop having this conversation when you enter the White House. None of the major foreign policy challenges on the horizon can be tackled if we don't have a thick domestic base. We can't do foreign aid, we can't get out of Iraq, succeed in Afghanistan, close Guantánamo and end torture policy without actually talking to people about the costs of that.

Why did you choose Sergio Vieira de Mello as the subject of your new book?

I think to some degree our models are off. We still talk a lot about transnational stress, global demons and things crossing borders, and yet our instincts are to focus on statesmen or people who operate within boundaries. We don't have models or instruction from people whose lives are themselves commensurate to the challenges that we recognize as the major ones on the horizon.

You've talked about what a great teacher Vieira de Mello is. What has he taught you?

I think Sergio makes me see dignity. His great line, and actually my favorite line in the whole book, is, "Fear is a bad adviser." I love that. It's so simple. And then that humility and curiosity are very important — but also a sense of fallibility without paralysis.

I think Obama has all those things in spades. I like to think that as I get older I'm getting better at spending time with people who have qualities that make them worth spending time with. My decision to leave Harvard and go work on foreign policy, in the minority party in the U.S. Senate at that time, it was a terrible year. Obama was great, but on national security the Republican committee chairmen were so deferential to the president that it was hard to get anything done. It was the worst year of my professional life, but it was the education of Samantha Power. You spend time with Obama and you learn things. And hopefully I could bring a little bit of what I learned from Sergio to him as well.

In the book you cite Vieira de Mello as saying that countries will kick and scream at the United Nations, but that at the end of the day they get the U.N. they want and deserve. As a career U.N. diplomat, what kind of reforms was he advocating?

Nothing will happen at the U.N. as such, in that building, until and unless states change. The major reform, the first reform would have to come from this country deciding that it's in our interest to have a stronger body to deal with international threats. We haven't come to that conclusion. We have to believe in international law and binding ourselves to international standards in the interest of getting others bound to those same standards. We haven't made that decision yet.

We have to pay our dues on time. We really have to want the U.N. to be well-endowed, and then we can use our diplomacy to make others invest in it, too. The real potential for change that Ban Ki-moon, the secretary-general, has is minuscule compared to what specific countries within the U.N. have. But for the last 60 years the debate about U.N. reform has occurred at the U.N. instead of in world capitals.

The Bush administration has a long-standing policy that it doesn't engage with terrorists or dictators. Is there a time when the United States should?

Absolutely. I'm with Barack on this. But it's not indefinite. Barack's point is you don't treat meeting with America as if it's in and of itself some great reward. It doesn't buy the other side anything. In fact, today it hurts a lot of people to be in business with the United States. So what you do is you meet in order to achieve things. You meet in order to know your foe, if it's a foe. You meet in order to get international wind at your back so that America is not seen as the problem — Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is the problem. You meet because you want to stop lumping together the unlike — al-Qaida, Hamas, Iran, Iraq.

You recently wrote in Time magazine that the U.S. needs to "rethink Iran." What did you mean?

We lunge between two extremes, neither of which is helpful. One is the Bush-Cheney saber rattling — hyping of the threat, alienation of international stakeholders because of the sense that this is about ideology rather than about problem solving. In saber rattling we're ultimately strengthening Ahmadinejad's base, because the one thing that will unite Iranians — whether secular, moderate, Islamic or nationalist — is the idea that we're going to come and attack their country.

On the other hand, there are people who are so disgusted and disillusioned with the Bush years that they romanticize in some way this wily Iranian head of state instead of acknowledging that the Iranian government is by all accounts a supporter of terrorist acts, or that Ahmadinejad is a head of state who denies the occurrence of the Holocaust and has made no secret of his militant animosity toward Israel. My feeling is that we need something in between the extremes that acknowledges that this individual, this regime, is dangerous and unconstructive — but that also acknowledges we have strengthened its hand by saber rattling, invading Iraq, dislodging the Taliban and rendering Iran the regional heavyweight.

To neutralize the support Ahmadinejad has domestically, we need to stop threatening and to get in a room with him — if only to convey grave displeasure about his tactics regionally and internationally — and then try to build international support for measures to prevent him from supporting terrorism and pursuing a nuclear program. If we're ever going to actually put in place multilateral measures to contain Iran, the only way we're going to do that is if we do it in a more united way with our allies.

How do we get out of Iraq?

We have to put Iraqis at the center of our planning and our thinking, which is not something we've done naturally at all — from the '80s when we supported Saddam Hussein, when he was using chemical weapons against his own people, to the '90s, when we had sanctions against the regime and paid very little attention to the toll of those sanctions on Iraqi civilians. And then, in the decision to go to war and the way we went to war — which was so not about Iraqis, as shown by our refusal to protect civilians and our failure to do adequate postwar planning.

We need to be incredibly sensitive as we leave Iraq to the welfare of Iraqis who are going to be left in our wake. That potentially entails the idea of sectarian or ethnic relocation if people are in a mixed neighborhood and feel that they'd be safer in a more homogenous neighborhood. Also, it entails massive support for neighboring countries that have taken in 2 million refugees, and some very systematic effort between now and the time we begin leaving to build funding and resource streams to internally displaced people.

We have shown again and again that we care about Iraq only insofar as it serves our interests. But I think it's time to show not only Iraqis but the rest of the world that at least as we leave, we're leaving with a very vigilant eye on how to mitigate the consequences of our actions.



-- By Leigh Flayton

Copyright ©2008 Salon Media Group, Inc

Posted on Wednesday 12 of March, 2008 [05:41:25 UTC]

Welcome to our Imagine Nation!
Emerging Visions visionary art ezine #11

http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com



share and enjoy!!!

Posted on Friday 29 of February, 2008 [00:50:55 UTC]

I've been seeing it in a variety of media. Presidential Candidate Obama is not perfect. He is said to have had dealings with people whose interests are not in the best interest of the American people. He has espoused policies that many of us do not agree to be in line with our own.

There are no perfect people, no candidates for elected office who can pass any possible test of political correctness or be gloriously free of nits to be picked.

I am even quite willing to believe that our whole political process is controlled by some evil imperial cabal, and we have no real choice. That being the case, we may as well support the candidate we will most enjoy listening to over the next 4 years. I am an over fifty, working class, white woman who enthusiatically supported President Clinton through the '90s. I now enthusiastically support Senator Obama's candidacy for President, because his is the message I want to see spread throughout this land. I am not settling for any lesser anything. In my estimate (ymmv) he is the best candidate I've seen in my lifetime.

The way I am coming to view it, the dichotomy in this country over the candidates is not about gender or race. If you want a good manager who will keep things in line, under control, take care of us, you are probably supporting Senator Clinton. If you want an inspirational leader who will help us find our own voices and aspirations and become a movement of people working together for the common good, you are probably supporting Senator Obama. If you want the old American values of war and big business, you are probably supporting Senator McCain.

Face it, the only way we will have real choices, real control over how our common issues are worked out, without oppression from big government and monied interests, is to take back our power and take care of ourselves and each other on the local level. Of course, it's much easier to make the perfect the enemy of the good, spread rumors and malcontent, make ugly battle out of what could be uplifting debate, than to take on the real work of improving our common lot.

Peace,
libramoon

http://obsidianwings.blogs.com/obsidian_wings/2006/10/barack_obama.html

Posted on Wednesday 20 of February, 2008 [21:38:01 UTC]

on the threshold

before the eclipse
before the dawn
before we are given our missions,
sent forward in time
we must be ready
without map or guidebook to prepare
we must rise to the challenge
endure the patience to exercise
control over every capillary,
every synapse,
every fiber of our being

it's not in the believing, but
the seeing
a better world needs a new kind
of ware
be a ware
for peace, for change,
for consciousness
before the wake

(c) February 20, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon

Posted on Wednesday 20 of February, 2008 [21:36:32 UTC]

Come Ye! Come See!

bring your Eyes and Mind

to

our Expanding Metaverse

Emerging Visions visionary art ezine #10

http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com


Share & Enjoy!



May your future blaze bright
Brilliant visions across the sky
Coalescing into exquisite reality
.

Posted on Monday 26 of November, 2007 [01:02:01 UTC]

Acts of Desolation

continued http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977172809

1. 8

I am filled with joy for the amazing people we have, are, are becoming. It is important to take time for joy. That is why we are having a celebration. We may not have luxury items to pass around, but we can sing, dance, beat out rhythm on makeshift drums, share funny stories or sentimental ones, enjoy ourselves together, those of us who are here.

Quite a few are out on assignment, picking up the information that can be found, spreading the information that can be given. Those who are not at the compound will certainly be celebrating on other occasions. We like to have that shared enjoyment on any occasion we can. Right now rumors are rife that the mercs are sadly encumbered by our activities. They are losing troops to the extent that it is affecting their bottom line. We hear they are planning a special board meeting of the Central Command and their cronies to address this. The rumor is that it will take place at Carnival, so the high level mercs can enjoy their own partying after their strategy session.

We all need downtime, to kick out the jams. I have been through too many zones too quickly, making it on the fumes of fast-pacing circumstance. Finally, I am letting all that wound up energy unwind. I am finally free, here with my people, of the fear and misunderstanding, of the never being part, among strangers. Letting go, dancing, the music, simple percussion and voice, carrying me into a meditative peace. I am immersed in pleasure, in the fluid movement of my body, the fluid intermovement of beautiful bodies, beautiful mutual emotion, inter-connected in mind and music. Deeply exhaling, inhaling, lifeforce in chemical embrace with air.
Gray has the new recruits quite as at home as I feel.

Reag and Calinda are out doing debriefing of the newest recruits coming in. We have people in the field who have learned the art and craft of pulling lone soldiers away from merc command without getting caught. Pretty much the only ones of us here are those who take care of the infrastructure keeping the compound going, recruits still too new to send out on assignment, and Gray and me. We're all glad for the tension-breaking shared revelry. We have been feeling something big building. Best to be relaxed and limber going into unknown dangers. We are dancing, making music, feeling close, free, unafraid. So, in that sense we are ready.

It was all pieced together later. Janna and Kore were scoping out the Carnival city scene, working the crowds of locals and tourists for information that could give us leads on the upcoming Central Command meeting, spreading information about the mercs and their methods. Most civilians are not really aware of the mercs and their "crowd control" operations. We let them know, what to watch for, what dangers they could face, through local rumor mills with our mind insertion techniques. Janna and Kore are experienced agents. Still, they were found out by merc freak advance guard, working the crowd from their end to assure their masters' safety, comfort, control. Our well-trained agents were able to send out a relay alarm as they realized that they were captured. Full text was likely: "We will crack under interrogation. Get yourselves somewhere we don't know about!" We at the compound, in midst of mind-wide-open revelry, felt the alarm as hard-edged panic warning: "Move! Get out! Attack imminent!"

Gray and I take charge of getting everyone into the tunnels, as quickly a they can move, carrying what equipment can be salvaged easily. The tunnel system is fairly vast and complex to get us hidden, out of range, leaving as much uncertainty as possible of where and when we might emerge, in case of attack. There are stashes of essentials: food, water, blankets, first-aid supplies, light sticks, to pick up along the way.

We are scrambling through the tunnels, the others moving quickly ahead of us, quietly, efficiently, in the low light of our led torches. I do not feel any fear. My mind is clear, alert, hyper-aware. Gray holds my hand as we move, keeping together in pace and reassuring presence. We are soldiers, born and bred. We are rebels by choice, engaged in just another little adventure, all in a day's work. We have this covered.

The explosions are loud, jarring, sad testimony that what we had built as our home has been destroyed. We will build again. Right now, we move, keep ourselves safe to regroup and fight that destructive force intent on taking our lives, minds, free will. If we don't exist to serve them, they need us gone. To be truly free, we must defeat them.

I feel the shocks and after-shocks of the bombardment above. Rock and soil dislodge, obscuring vision, stinging bits of sand, coughing as they impinge on our airways, sliding forward on moving ground. I fall against Gray as we are knocked down by more percussive rippling, hit by rubble, finding ourselves blocked by debris as we attempt to arise and move on. I notice blood and internal screaming. Gray is injured. We are cut off from the rest, who continue their scrambling exit through the tunnels, ahead of us, ahead of the falling tunnel-way in which we are now trapped. We know we only need to wait, stay hidden. Our comrades will return for us, dig us out, once it is safe to do so.

Gray is bleeding dangerously. I have cuts and bruises, but he is seriously wounded, hit by something heavy and sharp. I can see that he must have internal injuries as well. Still, I must keep him from bleeding out. I fashion a tourniquet from my belt-sash, get us both into reasonably comfortable positioning. He is supine, head in my lap where I sit on smoothed over tunnel floor. We have blankets around us. I am encouraging him to drink sips of water, to stay hydrated.

"It's no good. I'm dying," he informs me, somewhat wryly.

What can I say? It is self-evident.

"Better you keep the supplies for yourself. You don't know how long it will be."

I show him my compassion, my open love and admiration. He is quietly in reverie, relaxing into the inevitable.

Then, he is excited, suddenly enthused. "This will work. Dorie, you have to hold on to my spirit, keep me a ghost, like Nerice. I will be able to infiltrate the Central Command Guard and give us the intel we need on the CC's plans. Do it. Make this stupid dying thing worthwhile. You know, rebels have to use whatever means we can to survive."

I see the wisdom in what he demands. I have never done this, but I can certainly make the effort. I go into that place where his soul is between life and death. I whisper the trance ritual into his ear, special sound reverberation techniques from our corps training. I feel his soul/body connection dissolving. His body is at peace. The working part of him, tethered to me by a psychic thread, is ready and waiting for his next assignment.

1. 9

The smell of death. Certainly, not one of my favorites, but it's true: you can get used to anything. Eventually I start to doze. There is nothing to be done.

Somewhere, out there, our people are moving, re-organizing, figuring out what to do next. They will know we are missing. Our rescue will be on their to do list. It won't be hard for them to figure out where we are. My mission is to stay alive and silent, until I feel them getting close. Then, we make short-range contact and get us out.

It takes forever. It takes very little time at all. I feel Calinda with relief and gratitude. Her team has us out in quick order. We carry Gray's corpse with us. There will be farewell rituals for others as well, once more pressing matters are handled.

We are not widely scattered, in makeshift camps secluded in mountain valley woods. Not easily noticed, in position to be alert to intruders, we can take a breath and plan.

The word is that Kore was able to escape in the confusion surrounding Janna's death by torture. The merc's soldiers were able, obviously, to get the compound's location quickly before she succumbed, but probably not much else. The disorganization she projected in loud agonized vocal and psychic screaming cut short their interrogation. Kore somehow accessed the discipline to race out, mind tightly shut, into the crowd outside the holding room. He and Janna had only been taken a short distance by the soldiers, to a secured room in the Imperial Hotel, which the soldiers had commandeered when they arrived in the Carnival city for their use while putting in place their pre-Carnival security operations.

They let him go, or he got away. We aren't sure yet. It is believed that he is hiding in a secured squat used by our agents as a sanctuary from the barrage of psychic impressions on the streets.

"A place much like your vacation hole," Calinda laughs to lighten our grimness. That's Calinda, always moving to ease the uncomfortable, while never flinching from harsh truths.

"We need more intel, what the mercs are planning, just how much they know about our operations. Yet, after all this ... They must be on high alert, watching for us."

I tell her Gray's plan, to infiltrate the Central Command Guard as a ghostly whisper in his bio-twin's ear, and mine — the one to unobtrusively suggest, the other to pass on intel from the inner sanctum.

But, how to get in there? As a flimsy ghost, he needs very close contact to even find his bio-twin. He is linked to me. I would need to get close enough to the Central Command Guard for Gray to make the connection. Yet, they are on alert, watching for us. I would be captured, possibly killed, certainly have my knowledge compromised, before I could even get close enough to do any good. Not to mention, if I am killed so is Gray, his one psychic link destroyed. A conundrum, perhaps a mental labyrinth. There must be a way.

Leave it to Reag, the consummate tactician, to take up the task.

"Dorie, my dear, it seems to me that if we must put you in the lion's den without them sussing your true identity, we need to send you in, as it were, deaf, dumb and blind. I seem to remember a schizophrenic bag lady of my acquaintance not too long ago. She walked the grimy streets in undetected elegance. Well, except for her old, dear friends who knew exactly whom to look for. And, believe me, it was not without great difficulty that you were found out, even with our advantages. Some random crazy in a crowd will be easily overlooked by the arrogant Command crew."

At this point I expect Calinda to break in with my defense. Instead, she turns to me, grasping my shoulder while penetrating with her beautiful loving gaze into my eyes, my mind.

"You know he's right, Dorie. We realize how hard, dangerous, this will be for you. We need to make this work. It's our best shot at survival. We all know what's at stake, why we are fighting this horrid, interminable war. Win or die."

I know Reag's views are somewhat different; more like win, then die. But it's Gray's death I am remembering. This is his shot. This is what I promised, his dying wish. How can I offer any less? We must strategize, get this right, make a foolproof plan, and execute it. It is not "win or die." There is no option but to win.

"I'm going to make this happen," I affirm to the ghost flitting about in a corner of my mind.

"No, we will," he assures me.

1. 10

"Lev, it's Gray, let me in! I was captured! I have vital information! Hurry! I'm fading! There's not much of me left..." Gray knows his lines. I have none.

Through a combination of post-hypnotic suggestion and Gray's real time promptings, I will know what to do when it is time. Meanwhile, I am to be given a series of memory suppressants and mind-altering, disorienting substances. By the time I'm left off in Carnival city, there won't be much of me left, if any.

I will be sent by well-stocked robocar to the squat where Kore is suspected of hiding. This is the tricky part of the plan, since we are not sure that the mercs are ignorant of the place. But I will need a secured hide-out from the street noise if there is to be any chance of keeping me from attention grabbing public freak-outs in my to be debilitated state. This is why I am being sent with supplies. We don't want me on the street any more than necessary to get Gray to his bio-twin, Lev. We need to avoid the chance of me being picked up in a general street sweep against derelicts and possible trouble makers by the local authorities, or being recognized somehow as a freak by any of ours or theirs, which would blow my cover. We are pretty confident that if the mercs did know about Kore's hide-out we would have seen evidence of that by now. Even if they are watching the place and did discover me there, though, the probability would be that I would just appear to be some crazy street person seeking shelter. It's a small risk that we have to take.

If Kore is there, Gray will give me the trigger for an encoded message in a nonsense song to let him know to escape in the robocar. In any case, my post-hypnotic orders will get me and the supplies into the squat, after which the car will take itself, on its own orders, far away and I will forget entirely its and my former existence.

Gray has his story mapped out to convince Lev of our dire condition, and the folly of letting Central Command know there's a ghost in their lair. Once safely linked, he will tell Lev that the hit on the compound killed our leaders and most of the technical crew. Gray, barely alive, was able to escape in the confusion as his captors realized they were on their own. Now the rebels are only the motley group and individual survivors who were away from the compound on assignment. They are lost without their planning elite to give them their orders. Of course, it would not be wise to let Central Command know this intel came from a quickly fading ghost. They might well torture Lev in pursuit of more information that he does not possess. No, much better to tell them that he picked this up from panicked empaths in the Carnival crowd during his security sweeps. There must be no more than a very few rebel disorganized rebel agents here, probably trapped after the capture of their cohorts not so long ago. Once Gray is assured of Lev's cooperation, he can fade out as if his ghostly presence is no more, leaving any questions Lev might have formed without focus to form around. Then, Gray can listen to the Central Command's plans and concerns through Lev's unknowingly compromised consciousness, and pass on the intel through me to Calinda.

"Calinda will link in with you, but she will maintain silence and be physically in a different location, out of range of the patrolling merc force. She will relay the messages you pick up from Gray, without involving your conscious participation." Reag emphasizes our security concerns as we are weaving out this plan, looking for holes to pick in the fabric, making sure we are all in sync. I am to be an idiot-conduit. Rather, I am not to be at all. The consciousness previously known as Dorie will be back in her ignorant bliss of non-existence. This time, though, there's more than my life riding on the outcome. In fact, my life, my sanity, are not even concerns. There's plenty of chance that I will not be coming back from this mission, whatever the overall success or failure, even if I physically survive.

We know the Central Command will be meeting at the Imperial Hotel, where they have been putting their security in place. The hotel is well placed in the center of the city's arts and entertainment complex, the heart of the Carnival celebrations. There will be plenty of crowd cover as I wander about, giving Gray the opportunity to discover Lev's location. The Guard will have several occasions to circulate among the crowd before and during the festivities.

Once I get Gray to his bio-twin, any damned thing can happen to me, as long as I stay alive to be a conduit for his intel. This mission is what matters, my people, my cause. That's who I am, not some trivial identity, so flimsy it can be erased with drugs.

We have decided to go in on the first night of Carnival. The robocar can enter the seedy, public service abandoned part of the city where I will be landing under cover of darkness. All the mercs' attention will be focused on the center of the crowds and entertainment. Their Central Command, ensconced in their secured hotel, will be feeling safe and ready to enjoy the early ceremonies and festivities, relaxing before their substantive meetings later in the week. This gives us just a couple of days to prepare. We are keeping this operation quiet; only the very few of us directly involved need to know. We have been making our plans in a secluded, secured location. Tonight I say my good-byes to these few friends, comrades, family. Tomorrow I, essentially, will be gone, with no assurance of return. As if there is any real assurance for any of us, day to day. It's not like I haven't been down this road before, and that by my own volition. Best that I concentrate my thinking on my will to success. Now, no more thinking, concentrate on enjoying this evening with loving companions while that option exists.

A robocar, stocked with everything we have thought to need, will soon be landing in a cleared space within our conspiratory camp. Tomorrow I will be tied down and injected with mind-killing drugs. I will be left with pre-programmed suggestions, my orders, waiting to be triggered by a ghost at the appropriate times. The next day, crazy and haunted, I will go to Carnival.

1. 11

I'm here, in the hole, alone, or almost. There was a demon here when I came in, but he didn't like my singing. And there's the ghost. He tells me my singing is fine, but too loud. Sing more softly. He can hear me just fine, if I sing, yes, softly, singing. Whirling and twirling around, here, in the hole, where I'm safe from the streets. I can hear loud noises, explosions, from the distance. Bright lights, flashing colors, twinkly shapes appeared and receded while I was outside. Outside the hole, in the dark with too much noise and light, no. Better here, safely, in the quiet almost dark candlelight, whirling and twirling, singing, softly. This ghost is okay. Not angry, not mean. He can stay here, in the hole, with me safe, warm. Way too warm. Hot, humid night and I'm wearing all these clothes. Unlayer! Unlayering. There is a story about nights being cold. The ghost says it doesn't matter, just keep some clothing on for protection; don't sweat the sweat. Yes, the fiber gives my running water a place to soak into. He tells me to drink bottled water, from the pack on the floor. What comes out must go in, for perfect balance. I have a good haul on the floor. Packaged food, water, pills and liquor too! And look! A lovely patchwork skirt to twirl in. A right proper party I've got me, eh Ghostie? Got ourself a party good as any out on the street. Drinking brandy from the bottle and twirling. More heat and sweat, but I'm relaxed into it, feeling so fine.

The ghost is impatient. He wants me to go out to the big party uptown, to see the Carnival. Can't you see we have a better party here? We don't have to share. No demons, no annoying people with all their chaos here. He is not dissuaded. He wants the lights and noise, cacophony, or at least the people parading through the streets to watch. I am warm and liquid. Watching pretty lights, pretty costumes, parading, maybe, could be, a pretty party favor. I blow out the candle, adjusting my eyes to the darkness of these back streets. I take my bottle along, twirling through the street in my pretty party skirt. Warm, humid night full of noise and lights, so dreamlike.

"One more drunken reveler," the ghost whispers. I have arrived, surrounded by lights, by crowds dancing and prancing to lively beating bands. Swirling, twirling colors and light and movement, a dream made real, created by mass imagination. I feel free in this crowd. Nobody's stopping to question to be involved in anything but the grand, sinuous movement. Even the ghost is caught up in the spell. He is caught up in another space, another mind, only so slightly attached to me at all. I am free, sinuously dancing, enmeshed in the beautiful crowd, the beautiful light, all fantasy, all play, no drama. Entranced in the music, palpably joining form and shadow, so high, floating, in a beautiful sea.

The ghost remembers me, whispering: "Go back to the hole; be safe." I am caught up in the floating sea. I feel fine here. The hole will wait, a safe refuge to be in the fullness, if that dawning ever comes.

"Hey, space lady, got a name?" I am being addressed, casually.

"No memory. No me," is my, to me, cleverly ironic reply to her. Everything is hazy, out of phase. I appear to be sitting in a kind of semi-circle around a blazing trash can. For light/ It's much too warm a morning to need a campfire.

"Well, hey, Nomi. This here's Charlie; and they call me Little Red. That disreputable mess passed out next to you calls herself Thistle. Couldn't tell you why; and it can be hard to get out in certain head states, if you know what I mean. That was might fine brandy you brought to the table. Welcome to hang, if you like. Less you have impending business or waylaid kin to attend to."

I have no reason to leave, or reason at all. "I'll hang for a bit. I'm not at all sure where I am anyway. Maybe once the cobwebs clear ..." What? Little Red doesn't seem to care. She passes me a home-rolled cigarette she's had a few tokes on.

"My special blend."

The haze intensifies, with added color and sparkle. "I haven't got any plans." I tell us. "I'm here at Carnival to party."

Little Red is satisfied I am a kindred spirit. I pass the cigarette to Charlie, a somewhat burly gentle looking taciturn guy. We seem to silently agree to enjoy our unplanned day.

Little Red is indeed little, yet tough-looking, all long frizzy red hair and gap-toothed grin, a variety of visible scars, with a warmly welcoming stand-offish manner. I feel welcomed, companioned, with no strings or expectations. The morning is warm, heavily humid. There are small groups here and there, but the street is abandoned compared to last night's gala. I'm still not sure where I am, who I am, what if anything I have meant to do, but it doesn't matter. I am here. I am me. I will do what comes naturally, or whatever. Hot, hazy, humid, no fit atmosphere for thinking or doing much at all. Just going along with the dream.

Thistle is stirring. Long brown arms and legs, a tousle of dark hair, a flash of dark eyes over a wide yawn, then an impish grin. There is talk of food and cleaning up. Apparently, the city provides way stations with public showers.

My mind fuzzily seeks access to knowledge of a hidey-hole complete with food and drugs, but I am distracted. Embracing strong arms, a wet whispering kiss on my cheek, accompanied by a warm contralto: "Hey, Nomi. I'm Thistle. Good morning." Then, out she pirouettes ahead of us as we move, packlike, toward the showers.

The Carnival city planners are no dummies, or perhaps they learned from experience. There's no need for smelly, hungry hordes of would-be partiers to dampen the scene. Enroute to the showers are complimentary booths giving out coffee and pastries along with literature from their various sponsors, colorful streetmaps highlighting attractions, and schedules of entertainment events. I get caught up in this and that, and lose track of my new friends.

Despite the food, I am feeling light-headed, disconnected, so tired almost somnambulant. It must be the heat. It occurs to me to find shelter. I conceptualize the hole, and realize that's where I am heading. I just need to sleep for a bit, until hopefully cooler evening hours.

I escape into the hole, waiting for me, or so it seems, into restless sleep of dreaming in a dark and quiet refuge. Dreams dark, but not quiet. Or am I dreaming?

I awaken to the darkness of the hole. It is quiet, but not quiet enough. Someone else is here.

"What do you want? What are you doing here?" I cry out.

"You looked to be needing help. I followed you. Let me help you." Thistle moves to me out of the darkness. She sits beside me, cradling, crooning, soothing.

"Nightmares in the day? Tell me. I know some things about unwanted dreams."

"I'm not certain they are dreams. There are words and moving images, ideas, actions. They seem to be impressions from some apocalyptic meeting, not surreal dream imagery. It seems more like a warning of what may occur, if right action isn't taken. But what am I to do with such a warning, if that's what it is? It could just be me dreaming in paranoid fantasy induced by recreational drugs. I don't know what to tell you." I try to explain, though I don't know why I trust her.

"I know a technique that might help," she whispers, clearly concerned. "Let me walk your dream. I can help to make it clearer for you. We can figure out this warning, what it wants you to know."

She seems so certain, in charge, like a wise care-giver.

"Sure. What do I have to do?"

"Just dream, and don't resist me. Let go. Let it all flow together, my presence and the imagery." She kisses my forehead, softly croons soothing, hypnotic phrases. We meet in the dream.

We are in a fancy hotel conference room, complete with conferees. There's a group on a raised platform, clearly in charge, in crisp, tailored uniforms. They are addressing others, in business suits, sitting at a semi-circular table slightly below their podium. A majestically erect member of the uniforms is speaking.

"We have made adjustments in the formula. Those science guys assure us the new crop will be much more subservient. We won't need to be concerned about future rebellions." I see from his inner panorama a large white laboratory filled with vats containing children in liquid solution.

"We'll be able to build up our troops in a few years well beyond the numbers we had before."

A business-type in the audience asks: "What about the ones we've got who haven't had the rebel bred out of them?"

The leader responds evenly: "Eventually we'll retire most of them. The ones that prove their worth can be kept as team leaders."

I see the mass cremation after the bodies have been harvested for saleable parts. The human ash, too, has its industrial customers. These mercenaries are proud of their efficient use of resources, leading to ever-expanding profit.

"Meanwhile, we keep our eye on them, and encourage them to keep their eyes on each other. We seem to have kept the most manipulable or loyal. I guess we can thank the rebels, now that they're no longer a threat, for weeding out the trouble-makers. We've learned through our experience, and know how to make our future enterprise so much better as a result."

They are congratulating themselves for some successful explosive battle, for destroying those who defied them.

"Right now we are working pretty much at capacity. Soon, though, we will be able to take on new clients. There are plenty of local despots, industrial and political, who are favorably disposed to our services in controlling their subject populations."

They are practically salivating, thinking about lock-step civilian workers, watched for any deviation, controlled by constant surveillance and fear.

Another of the uniforms speaks: "We are completing our prototype rehabilitation camp for any of those, soldier or civilian, that proves difficult to control."

I see there is no rehabilitation involved, but rather derisively contemplated sadistic experiments, torture techniques and data on the line between lethal and barely holding on.

"We can also use the camps for excess unskilled laborers, the undocumented, any source of potential unrest." Murmuring approval and self-congratulation ensues.

I get a flash from the obvious leader of the uniforms as he tells his business associates what they want to hear. He sees himself raising a jewel-encrusted goblet of sweet liquid fire in toast to his private God, shouting as in salute: "Today the world. Tomorrow the solar system!"

I jolt awake. I know this is not some drug-induced nightmare. Somewhere, not too distant in time or space, this is real.

Thistle is shaken. "We must stop them!" she cries out.

I feel her become overcome by calm. "I have an idea of where to start." She smiles briefly, without mirth.



- to be continued -

Posted on Sunday 25 of November, 2007 [05:59:49 UTC]