Tag Archive: Buddhism


The eleventh letter focuses upon the beauty of reflection. One day prior to New Year’s Eve, my love and I sipped Starbucks coffee and discussed the past year. In discussing self-reflection, I realized that one’s internal reflection process is extremely important. Rarely is it performed properly, for authenticity is quite difficult.

The reality is that all of us will face many different risks throughout our life, and the process of identifying them can sometimes be critical and yet complex.  Emerging risks are ever present, and much like my generation, the situations faced by parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles may not have even comprehended what we face today.

So, just as you see a changing world, the importance of reflection is critical. Yet, many of use are bogged in the quagmire between arrogance and confidence. I have learned more from times of failure versus success.  My hope for you is that you take time to learn the importance of reflection how this one skill will assist you in triumphing more than falling.  Recognize failure, however so slight, and learn from it.

Moments of self-reflection is both dynamic and powerful. Self-reflection is how we can transform society. Transforming society happens one person at a time, by our willingness to be kind to ourselves, and our willingness to be kind to one another. Please self-reflect. Learn to feel worthy and to connect with human goodness.


My Dear Friend:

Self-reflection, in and of itself, can be extremely difficult. Spending time self-reflecting can allow self-efficacy (belief in our abilities) to blossom. The point of self-reflection is to see progression in your thinking and understanding of what you’ve learned – either about yourself or something else. Make changes accordingly.

However, over time, you will grow to be your own best friend and your biggest enemy, but I know you will balance it out as you go. Your face will change and it won’t be as soft. I want you to know you’ll only get more beautiful as time passes, and I’ll need you to believe it, for every day, a new world awaits, filled with new people, waiting for just you.

Some days, it feels as if time passes. Comes and goes. As Heinrich Harrer wrote:

“… even in a world in which time stands still, everything moves.

I don’t know where I’m going nor if my bad deeds can be purified. There are so many things I have done that I regret. But when I come to a full stop I hope you understand that the distance between us is not as great as it seems.”

Some claim my best work is accomplished alone. As I move across the country to work with the best, I am seen by many as having a good amount of success. The importance is that being alone doesn’t stop the tasks at hand. And constant reflection is the compass by which I move. I am connected and interconnected with a higher truth of guidance.

Reflect. Crave change. Nothing is perfect and no timing is never right. So, act anyway. When crap hits the fan, remember reflection and compassion is the Kevlar that will ensure your life. Therefore, be fearless in your pursuit of your life, your love, your truth, and purpose. There’s no harm in not knowing it all. You never will. So, trust me, it’ll change anyway.

Reflect my love. Reflect – for the distance between is not that great.

This letter was about transcending people and events to live boldly – to transcend the common. While this letter was written years ago, it could have been addressed to anyone living boldly, without having known.

Tamara Ferguson is such a person. The LA Times byline is as follows: As deadly flames approached, a mother called her daughters to say goodbye. The story is a great read.

Dalai Lama described himself as a “simple Buddhist monk.” And it is in that simplicity that his lessons emerge. As a Buddhist, being kind and compassionate is at the core of all spiritual teachings and path. The commonality is compassion. It’s something that everyone can cultivate by choice. Instead of criticizing others, transcend the common. Remain compassionate.

We forget that life is beautiful. We overlook the joy of the ordinary, that little things can be worth celebrating. There’s always something beautiful worthy of discovery and you don’t need to go anywhere to find it. It’s not what we see that matters—it’s how we see that makes all the difference. We’re not even responsible for what we see. We are called to transcend the common, to be responsible for how we choose to perceive what’s seen.


My Dear Friend:

When telling complicated stories like yours and mine, one needs clarity. There is always the fundamental human need for beauty, and likewise, resisting through beauty. Our interactions must never become just another event among other common life events. As such, solving disparity and misunderstanding requires imprinting and living in anew.

In today’s world, everybody seems to have developed armor for the secondary self, the artificially constructed being that deals with the outer world. That’s what you and I often meet. That armor has never been exposed to living. It’s never participated in life.

When I ponder transcendence, I think of Ted Hughes:

“The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.”

My dear love, you’ve always given your best. You’ve strived quite well to rectify the wrong. Yes, we should strive for an ideal, ideally pure thoughts and actions, but is an ideal possible in real life? So, is a pound of gold really a ’pure’ pound of gold? Quite honestly, I say, is there not hundredths, thousandths of impurities inevitably present? There is no pure, there’s only us.

You’ve always believed that a commitment to the common good requires both benefits and burdens, that gains and sacrifices be shared equitably. But this call is not unto you alone. All are charged to safeguard the vitality of the common good, the protection of our poorest, the vulnerable, and our solidarity with each other. Our social and moral teaching requires we never turn our eyes from the hurting, those, as I would say, who live on the margins.

In your own way, you’ve always reached out. Scripture tells us in Matthew 25 that what matters in the end is our ability to answer the question “When did we see you Lord?”:

For I was hungry and you gave me food.
I was thirsty and you gave me drink.
A stranger and you welcomed me.
Naked and you clothed me.
Ill and you cared for me.
In prison and you visited me.

I was me hungry and gave me drink. You shed my armor and welcomed me. You clothed me in love. And when I was down, you visited me. I am so proud of you. You have lived boldly.

You have transcended the common. You live a beautiful life.

This letter was written during a moment of doubt.

Like many, my friend struggled with achievement on occasion. Or, as the question was often phrased, “Do I do enough?” The crux of the concern was ‘achievement‘ –  how one defines it and how hard it is for a female to achieve anything recognizable in the business world.

Throughout the years, I recall all of those key mentors who just happened to appear in my life, as required. Still, reflecting back through the years, one key mentor after another passed on, as had many other heroes in my life. Skiver, Vogel, Navarro, Huff, Robinson and so many others. Gone. From their eyes, each expected more of me than what was seen. Each gave their best, freely admitted to my worst, often put me in my place, then rehabilitated me, and forgave for things I either said, did or did not do.

Still, my lover was also a wonderful mentor. After all these years apart, she remains unforgotten.

If she had read this letter, she would have learned a little of smidgen of Buddhist philosophy. The chief lesson being that life has taught that there’s a significant difference between well-known and known well.  To say someone is well-known merely places an external label connoting some level of notoriety.  This could be attached to someone popular, maybe well-skilled at something, or just notable for something that draws the attention of many. Known well, however, is a whole other story.

Read on.


My Dear Friend:

Over the years, almost all look upon our mentors in awe. Yet, for many, achieving one’s pinnacle is filled with exhaustion and, at times, desperation. In truth, you’ve wondered whether you’ve made a difference, gave something back to the community you’ve long served.

In truth, you’ve delivered more than most ever expected.  And regardless of the darker days of self-doubt, you’ve pushed harder than others. Passion for those whom you’ve led flows through your veins.

Of course, times of momentary fear, the fear of losing control, the fear of losing commitment and the fear of rejection has crossed your path. As such, we too, have had our ups and downs. Still, I thank you for all the moments we’ve been together. Because of you I gathered the courage to open my soul, to find the strength to get involved for the community members, to join action for that which is important to the next generation. I learned to stand up, for to have stood up and get shouted down is far better than never having stood at all.

Your biggest achievement? Me. You have instructed well. You have brought the very presence of spirituality to my life. I know God has touched your soul in many special ways, in ways that you are able to deliver His presence to others. I know this to be true, because I have experienced every time we’ve talked.

As you taught, genuine relationships involve being well-known and known well.  Quality relationships with colleagues, friends, customers and business associates go beyond what just being well-known can bring. Yet, you taught me the spiritual – the desire to find common ground for personal, professional, and maybe even a deeper level of connection with others. Thus, the lesson? Seek to know others well and allow yourself to become known well.

Thank you for all of the important lessons you taught me. Thank you for loving me, even when I failed. Most of all, thank you for being the female mentor I always needed.

This is the second of two letters themed, ‘Because of You.’

I did not write these letters because for any special request. Nor were these letters intended as prayer. I wasn’t asking for her to intervene or restore peace, to end a crisis, to heal something, or make any specific dream come true. In fact, after reading the ‘Because of You‘ letters, I simply wrote these two letters for the biggest, most significant, and most important thing – affirmation for someone I deeply loved.

Buddha said, “All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become.” As such, my goal simple – affirming a partner’s life, goal and love is extremely vital. And unless you take time to affirm that love and self-worth, we can program ourselves with negative statements – thereby making the negative true.

While celebrating Thanksgiving, remember actions done by body, speech or mind should be done after careful reflection. As Buddhists would note, a spoon of salt in a lake goes virtually unnoticed. Yet a spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable.

Remember to affirm one another.


If I could share anything share anything, it would be that honesty, purity and selflessness are essential pillars of true love.

You and I have searched longingly for our true purpose. It appears we are different from most. Like you, I continue to work so that others may benefit. As such, if love is the footprint of Christ, then you are Christ’s representative. You are God’s love to others.

You worry about being acceptable – acceptable to others and to God. Fear not, for because of you, I have recorded your deeds in the annals of time. You are made perfect. And I will attest to your beauty, even to the sacrifice of mine. I promise to proclaim, to God, everything about you. Because of you, the world, and I, have been privileged. The look of satisfaction and accomplishment when assisting is your testament. I am forever proud. I know God is as well.

Our faith and love will be our journey. We will always love each other and will be forever intrinsically connected. You are an addictive force. Oh. Draw me near. Even the beat of your heart doesn’t squelch the yearn. I need to swim in the coals of your bosom. For only when bathing in the springs  of thy heart can this never ceasing thirst be quenched. Only of you and in you, do I experience a satisfaction nothing else provides. You are my water. In you doth my cup run full.

Because of you, I no longer do as I wish. I am free only when imprisoned to you. The love you sprinkle grows in the soil of brokenness. I am reborn. Alive. You are the light for my darkness. To live in the ‘spirit,’ with your ‘spirit’ is grace undeserved. You are my rock, my living stone. You perfect my imperfect.

Thank you for showing me agape love and radical forgiveness. Thank you for teaching that intimacy is the sacred that can be shared. Thank you for showing me grace, even as I was, and am, unworthy.

This letter was a blessing to reread. Originally written on a winter’s night at Mark Twain Lake, located in Ralls and Monroe County, Missouri. I was amazed at the level of interconnection – just how present I was in the moment.

In general, there are two different views of how we perceive the world. The first view is that all beings exist independently, that the world is a collection of independent beings. The second world view is that all beings exist in relation to other beings. From a wider view, we can see our connection to others.

Buddhism views that everything in the world is interconnected. We are not only connected to other people, but to the air through our breathing and to the universe through light. As such, I misunderstood how deeply ‘present‘ I was in the moment and how deeply connected I was to Mark Twain Lake, God, Christ, spirit, eternal love, spiritual lust, the body, sparrows, oak ledges, midnight, tolling bells, the wine, wind, my thoughts, her breath, her eyes and love.

It’s a shame we never see these connections in real life. Had we, how so much more beautiful could our world could be?

And now, this letter is connected to the world, for all to read.

Enjoy.


My Dear Friend:

I sit upon the shores of Mark Twain Lake as the bells toll midnight. The wine nips my lips and I etch out this letter, breathing life from my soul. And I extend this missive in place of my heart, hoping, that as I write, you are well.

I notice something simple, odd really. Tree Sparrows have taken amusement of my existence. Pecking and hobbling among the oak ledges adjacent to my room, the distant lights appear like decorating ornaments of life’s backdrop. Having the need to escape for at least a night, I find myself briefly playing our own home movie, the rumble of bygone days laid to rest. A newer love of life surges. No, my dear love, for my eyes gaze southwesterly toward you and align to thy heart.

You have often worked for the beauty and benefit of others. Our lives are not our own. I am bound to you, as you are bound to me. We are bound to others, bound to our past, our present, in kindness and in love. We are interconnected. The crux of our stories touches all we’ve met.

Yet, as I constantly travel, I wonder how to carry all the love you’ve given. More so, I wonder to thirst for you in life, in death, and in life evermore. I cannot think of a more powerful way to honor either Christ or God. Loving you us a fulfillment of heavenly vision, a divine interconnection. And it is in our connection, that the ‘spirit’ comes and rejoices.

Should the Tree Sparrow be willing to tarry a message, it would be simple. This pottery is kiln fired. I am stronger the marrow stands firm against the wind.  And my heart longs to inhale the inner fire and dance in the peace of your heavenly blue eyes.

The wind briefly rattles! What say ye wind? What? “Folly or fool?” Oh, dare ye foolish wind! I am overwhelmed with beauty, I am bewildered by spiritual sweetness, this weary mind turns for refreshment as a dusty traveler might sink onto a soft grassy bank. Wherever this refreshment goes, even if it is for only a moment, I am blessed to have known its caress. Your love is my gift; your love will be my treasure.

Maybe our time is a brief rest, but also, maybe these moments remind us of the power of eternal love – that we are loved – that we can be loved. Regardless, I am encircled by your breath and I entrust our spiritual lust will draw near, in whatever way possible and to the way that’s right.

Last year, astronomers fixed their eyes to a lump of rock from another planetary system that whizzed through ours. under most circumstances, this may have been noteworthy, but I quickly digested the article and moved on. In the months following, a pair of Harvard scientists claimed the massive, fast-moving ‘Oumuamua‘ may have been a probe sent by an advance alien civilization. Named ‘Oumuamua‘ (Hawaiian for “messenger” or “scout”) might be a probe sent by an advance alien civilization.

Researcher comments were posted alongside Oumuamua’s picture. So, I have to say, if Oumuamua’s picture is accurate, the probe’s craft looks liked my first car from high school – meaning that probe was beat to hell and back. I keep wondering if the probe passed Elon Musk’s Tesla Roadster and its dummy driver, Starman. Cruising by, the probe pouts, “He got a convertible. I got a rock.”

So what does Oumuamua have to do with anything?

Well, I linked Oumuamua to current events by coining the term the Oumuamua Factor. And, in all transparency, the Oumuamua Factor was inspired by American astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson when Tyson, in effect, said:

“When something moves at speeds never seen before,has a shape never seen before and if it’s something you cannot explain, the most extraordinary account is used to explain it. The account is probably not correct, yet people buy it.”

Global citizens having been buying into Oumuamua like conspiracies for ages. Take Rick Scott. Scott held a news conference calling for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement to investigate elections officials in Broward and Palm Beach counties, and announced he had filed a lawsuit against top election officials in each of them.

“I will not sit idly by while unethical liberals try to steal this election from the great people of Florida,” Scott said. “Their goal is to keep mysteriously finding votes until the election turns out the way they want … left-wing activists have been coming up with more and more ballots out of nowhere.”

Scott raised suspicion that vote counting delays were due to misconduct, but failed to present any evidence that it actually occurred. Within hours of Scott’s news conference, President Trump tweeted that he categorically characterized vote count process as “another big corruption scandal having to do with Election Fraud,” and asserted that “Florida voted for Rick Scott!

Trump pulled an additional Oumuamua yesterday when he claimed citizens committed voter fraud by casting a ballot, returning to their cars, changing clothes, and reentering the polling facility in disguise to cast additional ballots.

“The Republicans don’t win and that’s because of potentially illegal votes,” Trump told the Daily Caller. “When people get in line that have absolutely no right to vote and they go around in circles. Sometimes they go to their car, put on a different hat, put on a different shirt, come in and vote again. Nobody takes anything. It’s really a disgrace what’s going on.”

So what’s real? Well, there are two issues: The allegation of voter fraud and the Florida recount process.

Voter Fraud

Trump’s claim about illegal voting might be right. On Twitter, David Rich noted:

“Sometimes, I don’t know, they come dressed as Batman or Spider-Man. Then they leave, come back and vote again as Peter Parker or Bruce Wayne! I don’t know, people are saying…” https://t.co/67hy5tB3HN

However, I know for a fact that Superman is a Democrat and voted in 27,000 times last week. He flew as Superman, changed his clothes to Clark Kent, used his mind power jump the line to first and flew onto the next polling place. In southern Arizona, he flew across the border to Mexico, picked up a bus load of illegals, brought them back. The illegals voted and he returned everyone back to Mexico. And it worked. ‘Blue Wave.’ Thanks Superman.

Simply put, if I sound crazy, then you should find neither Scott’s nor Trump’s allegations fundamentally sound.

Florida’s Recount Process

Why does Palm Beach County, Florida have so many issues? Susan Bucher, the elections chief who ‘doesn’t suffer fools’, has repeatedly asked for additional funding to update antiquated voting machines and blasted state officials for not extending the deadline so the county can count every vote. There are only eight machines in Florida’s third-largest county to scan nearly 600,000 ballots cast.

In fact, voting technology deployed by most states around the country is now so antiquated and unreliable that it is in danger of breaking down at any time, experts say. Some states are having to go on eBay to buy spare parts for machines that are no longer manufactured. Despite the nationwide scope of the problem, little was being invested in finding a solution. “No one is expressing any interest in paying for new machines. Congress has shown absolutely no interest in doing so.”

In Closing

A customer at Simon’s Stingray Fishmongers marveled at the owner’s quick wit and intelligence.

“Tell me, Simon, what makes you so smart?”

“I wouldn’t share my secret with just anyone,” Simon replied. Lowering his voice, “But since you’re a good and faithful customer, I’ll let you in on it. Fish heads. You eat enough of them, you’ll be positively brilliant.”

“You sell them here?”

“Only $4 apiece,” says Simon.

The customer buys three. A week later, the customer returns and complains that the fish heads were disgusting and he isn’t any smarter.

“You didn’t eat enough,” says Simon. The customer goes home with 20 more fish heads.

Two weeks later, he’s back and really angry. “Hey, Simon,” he complains. “You’re selling fish heads for $4 a piece while I can buy the whole fish for $2.00. You’re just ripping me off!”

“See?” says Simon. “You’re smarter already.”

Scott and Trump continues to offer the Oumuamua Factor. It’s simply an appearance of a more viable story. However, what people continue to purchase are only fish heads.

Just as 12 people were shot and killed in a California nightclub, the National Rifle Association declared war against the medical profession via social media. Apparently, the war was triggered by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) having the gall to release new figures showing gun deaths on the rise, indicating latest data for large metro areas are reaching levels not seen since 2006-2007.

Among the 50 largest metro areas, 43 (86%) reported rate increases when compared to 2012-2013 total. The report states a likely factor in both homicide and suicide rates is access to a firearm. According to previous studies, the decision to harm yourself or another person take as little as 10 minutes or less. Persons who make such decisions tend not to substitute use of a firearm when one is unavailable or difficult to access.

“Someone should tell self-important anti-gun doctors to stay in their lane. Half of the articles in Annals of Internal Medicine are pushing for gun control. Most upsetting, however, the medical community seems to have consulted NO ONE but themselves. https://t.co/oCR3uiLtS7

— NRA (@NRA) November 7, 2018

The NRA is right. We need a consult.

In July 2017, the Emergency Management website ran a story indicating initial hospitalizations involving firearm injuries cost $734.6 million a year nationally. The story, written by reporters Jennifer Smith Richards, Annie Sweeney and Jason Meisner, Chicago Tribune followed two gunshot victims – Annette Johnson and Leo Leyva.

The bills for their initial treatment were staggering. In his first 35 minutes at the hospital, Leyva had racked up $21,521 in charges, and by the time he was released three weeks later the bill totaled more than $157,000. For Johnson, who spent barely 24 hours at Mount Sinai, the hospital charges approached $27,000.

Can anyone guess the average cost of branded and top grade shotguns? $500 to $800 dollars. Likewise, can anyone guess the average cost of a decent 9MM weapon? $250 to $400 dollars.

The Emergency Management article continued. An unprecedented analysis of state data by the Tribune revealed that the initial medical costs for treating Chicago gunshot victims like Johnson and Leyva add up to tens of millions of dollars annually.

Also in June 2017, NBC News published “Journey of a Bullet” followed six people endured the physical force, paid the emotional toll and found a path to recovery. the most interesting quote,

“… the gunshot wound may heal, but the bullet remains embedded in every facet of the survivor’s life.” For a fleeting moment, the thrust of the bullet bonds these survivors before their stories pull apart, diverging in directions where their futures are thrown into turmoil: Some are left paralyzed or must undergo years of reconstructive surgeries or are so shaken up, they can’t walk down a street without glancing over their shoulders.

What the NRA’s social media war fails to comprehend is that for clubgoers, rescue staff, police, heath care clinicians, and victims of the Borderline Bar and Grill shooting are forever bonded. That will never change. In the meantime, Trump ordered flags to half-staff, Democrats demand action, and relentless prayers. All those damned prayers. “Prayers and condolences” for all.

Having made a living in the medical profession, both as a former rescue man and paramedic, police officer and now consultant, I can attest that the physicians are right. However, maybe the NRA’s concern, that “… the medical community seems to have consulted NO ONE but themselves” is valid. As such, I sarcastically propose the following scenario during the next major trauma. It’s not very Buddhist, but it feels right.

Doctor: “Gunshot wound. Oh my God. I need a consult.” Picks up phone. Dials.

Voice: “National Rifle Association. How can I assist you?”

Doctor: “This is Anytown ER. Need a consult. We have a well-developed, well nourished, white male, 70 inches tall, weighing 138 lbs, and appearing the stated age of 39 years. Present in the right upper chest, 13 1/2 inches below the top pf the head, level with the jugular notch, just below the clavicle and 2 3/4 inches to the right of the midline, there is a gunshot wound of entrance. Initial examination of the wound reveals it to consist of an oval-shaped, seared and blackened wound, measuring 5/16 inch vertically x 1/4 inch horizontally. Partially burned grains of powder are present in this wound. Lying slightly above this wound and enclosing three-quarters of it, there is a circular contusion ring, approximately 1/2 inch in diameter. This ring measures slightly less than 1/16-inch-wide and has a reddish color. The bullet, after passing in between the clavicle and 1st rib, struck and perforated the right brachio-cophalic vein and the right internal thoracic artery. The bullet then went through the apex of the upper lobe of the right lung and struck the antero-lateral aspect of the 3rd thoracic vertebra. The bullet went through the body of this vertebra in a posterior path, creating a tangential wound of entrance into the spinal canal.”

So, ah, NRA? It’s your gun and your bullet. How should we proceed?”

How’s that for a consult?

Star Wars themes rolled through my head upon waking this morning. Would today be The Empire Strikes Back or The Force Awakens? I am not sure why these themes wandered through my mind, but even so many hours later, these themes seem appropriate.

The good news is that the U.S. House of Representatives will be controlled by the Democrats. The Trump administration will face a level of scrutiny from Congress that it has not yet faced. Obamacare will likely survive. And the voice from women has roared, with 100 or so women serving.

The Empire Strikes Back is a movie where the good guys just keep losing, outsmarted and outgunned. Likewise, Democrats cannot completely seem to get it together. Like the Old English epic Beowulf, the Democrats found that in slaying the monster Grendel meant wrestling Grendel’s mother. The epic is really about tackling something beyond one’s circle of experience. It’s the same lesson everyone learns.

Therein lay the hard lesson – the Republican Party is officially dead, but in its wake cometh Grendel’s mother – Trump. It’s mean. It’s ugly. It’s vicious. There’s a subtleness as well. Eddie S. Glaude Jr., chair of the Center for African-American Studies at Princeton noted how “appalling so many willingly voted for ‘vicious.'”

Like the Grendel, for nearly a decade, a similar political monster has been picking off the best Democrats, munching them like morning biscuits. They couldn’t muster much of a defense and were hopeless at exacting revenge. However, the midterm elections offer a couple Buddhist lessons.

Republican Lesson

  • All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think, we become. If you think greatness, you’ll become greatness. Embrace fear and hatred, you will be hated.

Democrat Lesson

  • Fret not about finding one single leader, for there is no secret ingredient to being a good leader. In time, a leader cometh.
  • Superheroes are not required. Great acts are comprised of small deeds. Look no further than the victorious from last night. The leader may not be a singular ‘him’ or ‘her.’ Maybe our leader is ‘we.’

As the character Poe Dameron (Star Wars: The Last Jedi) hinted, you’ve lit the spark that’ll light the fire.

 

 

Voted … Voted … Voted.

I voted.

My vote was neither a repudiation of Donald Trump nor referendum. My vote was to embrace.

  • My vote was for my niece, nephew and those who will live in 2040 and 2050;
  • My vote was for children who want to go to school without being shot;
  • My vote was a vote for those #MeToo victims screaming to be heard;
  • My vote was a small voice for health care – to all who are and will be impacted by dementia and Alzheimer’s in 2040. It doesn’t matter how we’ll have gotten there. Simply put, we’ll be there. It’s up to us to figure it out. If we don’t, we’re not going to like life in 2040 and 2050;
  • My vote was a voice for the oceans. If we care not for the environment, we’re likely to kill all;
  • My vote was for the Black, Hispanic, Asian, Muslim, Jew, and the outcast. You are not forgotten and welcome in my world;
  • My vote is birthed from a thirst for “Truth.” Whatever happened to that?;
  • Lastly, for Eric who commented, borrowing from Gregory Porter’s ‘Take Me to the Alley,’ my vote was for those in the alley:
    • For the afflicted ones;
    • For the lonely ones; and
    • For those who’ve lost their way.

Most importantly, I voted for you. I voted for us.

What did you vote for? Leave a comment if you care.

A contrast of Presidents smothered television today. Trump held a rally in Mississippi while Obama rallied in Florida. Both attempted to unify their respective base – one via hatred, the other via inspiration. And America watched its gunslingers duel it out. One proposing true opportunity for greatness. Of the other, brute strength.

Reality set in shortly after the speeches – we are an America that lives by the rule of brute strength. Its president vows all must be vanquished prior to becoming great. However, the warning comes in the form of a question (one which I’ve asked before). When was the last time America rebuilt something wonderful?

Writer Ed Pilkington accurately reflect America at the ‘crossroads.’

They [supporters] are the crucible of the Trump revolution, the laboratory where he turns his alternative reality into a potion to be sold to his followers. It is at his rallies that his radical reimagining of the US constitution takes shape: not “We the people”, but “We my people”.

A supporter wears a T-shirt that articulates what many people will say to me in the coming days. It bears the words: “Trump: he says what I think.”

Further in his writing, Pilkington wrote:

A retired building foreman and Harley guy, comes up to me in the press pen saying he wants to come face to face with “fake news”. He sounds intimidating, until he throws me a big just-kidding smile.

“What would happen to America were Trump not on the case?”

“People are going to get killed,” he says. “Gang wars. We are going to get gang wars between white and black, whites and Mexicans. We could have our own little Vietnam, right here.”

With Trump, we run from our problems. We have no education to solve anything. But it’s what we have always done. There’s no sugarcoating America’s current level of hate. When I watch some Trump supporters, I think of a scene from the film Stepmom (transposing ‘Trump’ and ‘Trump Supporter’ for context).

Ben Harrison (Trump Supporter): Mommy…

Jackie Harrison (Trump): What, sweetie?

Ben Harrison (Trump Supporter): If you want me to hate her, I will.

Unfortunately, Trump has accomplished little but vindicate our own truth. What we’ve failed to learn is that ‘strength overused becomes a liability.’ Such liabilities have never built anything good or anything wonderful. The following parable reflects American life.

“You listen,” said the Master, “not to discover, but to find something that confirms your own thoughts. You argue, not to find the truth, but to vindicate your thinking.”

——-

The Master told of a king who, passing through a small town, saw indications of amazing marksmanship everywhere. Trees and barns and fences had circles painted on them with a bullet hole in the exact center. He asked to see this unusual marksman. It turned out to be a ten-year-old child.

“This is incredible,” said the king in wonder. “How in the world do you do it?”

“Easy as pie,” was the answer. “I shoot first and draw the circles later.”

“So, you get your conclusions first and build your premises around them later?” asked the king.

“Isn’t that the way you manage to hold on to your religion and to your ideology?”

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