To Black Millennials: iProtesting Isn’t Enough

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Black Millennials

Howard Hands Up

I’m going to start this post with a little bit of honesty: until recently, I thought that organizations like the NAACP and the National Urban League and some of the other old Civil Rights infrastructure were outdated, irrelevant, and unhelpful in the conversation about race in America. I thought that the idea of sit-ins and protests were good tools for another time, that peace marches and locking arms were something for a time gone by. Quite frankly, I had an attitude of “what have ya’ll done for me lately?”

I never thought that these organizations should disappear… I considered them to be Professors Emeritus in the sphere of race and class conversations in this nation. We see them as an authority, representations of the “old school,” but I thought that it was time for a new vocabulary, because we live in a new world with new needs.

And then Trayvon…

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416: How I would free my daughter with Aspergers

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Also a good way to free oneself. I love the aspergersgirls blog!

Everyday Asperger's

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Sophia

How I would free my daughter with Aspergers

1. I would learn everything I could about the spectrum conditions through reputable, well-honored sources; and then readily forget everything I knew and recognize my daughter is a unique individual with exact perfection and a glorious light.

2. I would acknowledge each and every way my daughter’s actions reflect a behavior that in some way makes me believe that I am affected. What is it that she is doing that is causing discomfort to me, would be a question I would demolish, and whole-heartedly embrace the conclusion that I am the only one choosing to be in a state of discomfort based on someone else’s reactions and actions. And in truth my reactions have a direct effect on everyone about me. My ‘job’ as a parent, if I were to assign an exact ‘role’ and ‘duty,’ would be to reflect back…

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My favorite thing to eat currently

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Fresh rolls at Narai Thai Cuisine

The fresh rolls, or fresh spring rolls at Narai Thai in downtown Olympia are the best in town.  I have tried a dozen establishments fresh tolls and Narai is the only one that has my stamp of approval for this dish. They are consistently filled with the freshest leaf lettuces, carrots and tender chicken breast strips. The outer rice paper roll has a soft and firm substance that holds the roll beautifully. I really prefer every ingredient they use individually. The presentation with baby bock choy florette, shredded cabbage, carrots, and basil are always crisp and fresh. The two sauces, a warm peanut sauce and a sweet chilli sauce, come with chopped peanuts for that extra crunch. Sweet, spicy, warm, crunchy these taste like spring eaten in August or January.

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I love the wait staff!

The wait staff are friendly and prompt.  I’ve always been happy with my service. Which is rare. I was a waitress. I’m a fair tipper but I always leave more than 10-15% here because for around 4.50$ for two delicious, healthy hand made snacks and a smile I feel I’m getting a great deal an give an extra buck when I can.
I commend how they treat a regular who just comes in for a quick bite. I take in the ambiance. The beautiful art, listening to trickle of a fountain, dim lights, relaxing atmosphere.
Its a great place to stop for a bite.
My daughter orders the pad kee lew. When we eat together. I enjoy that as well. But I have occasionally skipped entree and had 3-4 fresh rolls. Because they are after all.
My favorite thing to eat out currently.

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One

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One

 

We do not need 10 commandments

Just this one truth

There are no divisions we are one

One mind one body one soul

One life one planet just one

 

So this is my plea this is my cry

If you do not understand I cannot tell you why

It is the ground under my feet

And my eye in the skies

 

I am one

 

When you see your brothers and sisters and say

Hey, how ya doing? Are you good?

Remember we are one

We all need something

 

Like the truth in the center

Of all the spokes in a wheel

Surrounded in hope and love

I honestly see we are one

 

Black white brown yellow and red

Gay straight queer square

We are all eating from the same plate

And sleeping in one bed

When we think of each other instead of fear

Accept each other as one

 

When you see a sick puppy

Or a wolf pack on the attack why stay back?

Can’t you see we are in one condition

And behave as one?

 

Look at us and yourself in the mirror

Because everything is one

 

Now who said let there be no divisions among us?

There are none here with one

There are no fences cells prisons or walls

They are all a dream an illusion we are one

 

I am one

 

You are one person with one perspective

Born with one will and one tongue

At one time from one mother

Just one

 

If you seek the truth then you are one

If we’d all love our enemies…

Well I’d guess there would be none!

Are you one?

 

There are no enemies in one

One mind body soul life planet just one

 

We are one the Christian Muslim Jew

Animist Humanist Atheist Hindu

Wiccan Pagan the Zen Buddhists too

The agnostics are ahead of me here

You all knew …. there might be one

 

And here it is because we are one

Seeking wisdom truth and honesty

Understanding acceptance and forgiveness

Praying meditating and debating

 

Who has the best answer?

How to attain nirvana?

Will I be accepted in heaven?

 

Are we really separated by love people?

What are we arguing about?

Whatever it is the answer is we are one

 

Like one truth in the center

Of all the spokes in a wheel

Surrounded in hope and love

I honestly believe that we are one

 

Preacher and sinner one

Cops robbers judges prisoners one

Dealers addicts Bloods Crips hoes and pimps

One

Soldiers generals president pope one

Kings queens and refugees

 

One life love hope dream and one fear

The past the present the future

Right here and now is one

 

The oppressors and the oppressed one

The rich and the homeless one

In the ghetto the mansion the igloo the shack

The tee pee the longhouse

Wherever ONE is at

 

I am my temple our temple is we

Let us be at home as one just like

 

One truth in the center

Of all the spokes in a wheel

Surrounded in hope and love

I honestly believe the truth is

We all are this

One

Through The Gate and Out The Rabbit Hole

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This is what the Queen of Hearts looks like. Arriving after traveling ages in darkness. Standing tall, safely in the light, after entering the west gate at Kensho. Crown flickering dimly in the glow of a full moon. The paths I followed leaning on my rosewood and amethyst staff was marked only by shooting stars. Here now full of the wisdom of many lives. Overflowing with fruit and gifts imaginable only to children. The journey was a mystic experience. A trial by fire spewed by the dragon of yesterday defeated by phoenix rising Ending with a high frequency an epiphany at the gate The vibrating physical manifestation of sound The energy of it was like electrocution without pain An amplified buzzing of millions of bees, or The largest bell in existence being rung inside your head.

No, it was more like an entire thunderstorm fully charged compressed into seconds.

Simultaneously filling and obliterating all of existence the only, albeit insufficient, example to give is using sound and ears as a metaphor. For it was too loud and not painful to have been made by my ears. It occupied the space within my head between my ears It is difficult to describe a sound

That ears do not produce with out self sacrifice. And somehow I hear clear as day now.

Painting the picture is like trying to describe a physical 6th sense combining feeling and sound controlled and interacted with by mind. Only a fleeting thought completely finished it The experience only lasted seconds. I can’t be sure how many A timeless sound you don’t hear with mortal ears But can only hear when you’re soul is completely listening It was the sound of the soul listening and the feeling of the soul receiving that sound. A fitting welcome from the source for a queen at the gate of eternal bliss.

I have reached the top of the mountain on foot. Walked through the gate head held high. And people are flying around pointing at the top in helicopters. Seeking only a view and taking pictures for show and tell. I know it is because they are lost. The landmarks for the paths have worn away with age. The maps are torn and outdated. Cool groves once gathering places are overgrown with weeds and thorns becoming a den of thieves. Signs, though carved in stone, are in ancient sacred unintelligible languages. Their meaning lost in the depths. The surround sound system on the peak announces every tune that has reached it yet, no one listens for their discord. The cacophony filled me with sorrow over the plight of the travelers. It put me in a place where I was like a baby trying to make sense of the world in a whole new way. I thought am I the only one? Is there no other breathing person who is here at this place just past seconds of emptiness? Just seconds after being filled with the sound of creation? How did I find this place of solitude with only an internal compass? Who else is present and willing here? Am I alone with my cup? Must I return to sit across from the chaos and destruction at the table of existence seated in the thrones of the Kings of Diamonds and Clubs? Nevertheless neither doubt nor evil occupy space in the shade under the solitary tree rooted in the top of the mountain. At the gate past which truth reigns over the noble soul.

This is where I am now. After a personal spiritual journey through the gate of bliss And the fall afterward of knowing That the only way back down for me is a new path. The apple has been eaten I feel now like the blackness of the Queen of Spades Toiling planting seeds in cold hard earthen vessels.

It may be lunacy of itself to know so surely

That I ever was at a place so confident.

That the place I am at now does not exist.

But it does.

And I am

It is

The

Rabbit

Hole

The Playground

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The Playground

Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Einstein, Lucifer, and Tesla

Are all bouncing on pogo sticks at the playground.

A queen approaches, exits her carriage and walks over.

All of them stop hopping because of her beauty.

She asks them “Who has the best pogo stick?”

Moses says “My pogo is made of wood grown in the last world. It clears any path I choose right before my eyes.”

Jesus says “My pogo was sent by God By it I can hop to the top of any mountain”

Buddha says “My pogo is made from the heart of a bodhi tree. By its own balance and power I never fall off.

Einstein says” My pogo is powered by the laws of physics.

It will take me anywhere and everywhere. Relative to where I am now of course.”

The Devil says “My pogo is made from the bones of sheep. It always follows my will.

Tesla says “My pogo is entirely energy. It is both always here now and there then.”

The queen replies “Those are amazing pogos. May I hold them? I promise to treat them well and do them no harm.”

Even the devil hands his pogo to the queen due to her grace and beauty.

The queen takes off her crown and stretches it to fit around every pogo like a wheel.

She then proclaims: “Whatever vehicle this wheel carries will clear any path, climb any mountain, the rider will never fall off,

it will carry them anywhere and everywhere their will desires here now and there then, never failing through all of eternity.”

The men do not believe the queen and ask for a demonstration. So she suggests the men place the wheel on the carriage so they can take a test drive.

They all get in travel around the world over every mountain and through time, safely returning to the playground.

Everyone gets out of the carriage except the queen.

And when they ask for their 6 pogos back the queen says

“I am truly sorry but I have only this one priceless wheel, I see no pogos. Would you not agree it is far too precious a wheel to destroy so that you all can go bouncing about like fools?”

The moral of the story?

The most powerful men in history are no match for an intelligent, beautiful woman who is going places.

For Pops

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For Pops

 

He tells me stories 

Tales from the deep south 

Bout how a raccoon 

Can whip a dog in the water 

I learn how to fell a tree 

So it lands just right 

 

I listen to his mama 

Cook 3 meals a day for 8 

May be that’s why he feels so special 

When you make him something little 

Like a sandwich 

 

I hear the sound of sitting on the porch 

With a rifle 

I hear his heartbeat 

And a drop of sweat trickle off his brow 

 

I hear a murder of Jim Crows 

Pass over the family home 

Sisters in the house 

Threshold blessed with his own 

Blood toil and prayers 

 

He leads me to a field of memories 

Plowing behind a mule at 8 

We go to cane mills 

Remove the slag of the top as 

Millstone rolls with the clop of a work horse 

Juicing sweetness 

I hear how to keep my fingers 

 

I listen to the weight of a 65 pound 

Basket of cotton on the back of a child 

Who counts pennies for  bullets and shot 

To hunt some rabbits or quail for supper 

Not a deer 

He never could bring himself to kill one 

 

I listen to these stories 

From the one person who gave me safety  

When I was with child 

And needed protection from the world 

A world whose cruelty he knows too well 

 

He was good at security with his 

Strong black 6 foot who knows what body 

That escaped the draft  

But has fought battles of his own 

 

I know where his boys raised  

Sent to college 

Seen on TV in athletics 

I know from whence they came 

Great grand children of 

Two preachers children 

Who raised a family 

On 40 acres and a mule 

In Mississippi 

 

For a few that tale is true 

Walnut and peach trees 

Cornbread and collard greens 

BBQ and fish fries 

Ham hocks and poke salad 

Runs in their veins 

Just like dominoes and spades 

 

He is the great migration 

From southern farm to northern factory 

I’ve learned a person passes out 

When their arm is mangled in a meat grinder 

Up to here 

 

I’ve heard the pain of living a long life 

Filled to the brim with dead loved ones 

He knows more hurt and dead people  

Than friends I could name 

He speaks to me of people he names 

 

HIs cousin at 80 stabbed 13 times 

By her grandson 

And how she’s still living 

People drowned in the Mississippi 

Killed in the war 

 

Nephews in and out of prison  

For no good reason 

People who died 

On his watch at work 

Died in his home 

His own brother 

 

He says ” I worked every day 

Before work there was work 

And after work there was work” 

 

Pops tells me stories 

Tales from the deep south 

Scenes of raccoons 

Whipping dogs in the water 

And trees felled just right