Feeling Stuck in Someone Else’s Nightmare: The Dangers of a Would-Be Leader at War with Himself, and Us

Lately, I often feel like I’m stuck in DT’s mind and can’t find a way out. It’s horrifyingly unpleasant, a daytime nightmare. Then I step back and breathe, momentarily at peace again.

 

We all create a world in our mind. Our world. Each person’s perception is slightly different from anyone else’s⎼ the depth of color, what we focus on and ignore, what we listen to and hear, what we respond to or bury. What a scene calls to in our memory.

 

We all, to varying degrees, shape the physical and social world around us to fit our way of perceiving it. In a way, whatever we see is us. We perceive and experience what our senses and brain make possible for us to sense.  We never see or hear exactly what another person sees or hears; or what a dog or a bat sees and hears.

 

And the moment-by-moment play-by-play that most of us hear in our minds is unique to us yet shares so much with the experience of others. But we can learn to step away from the recording. We can enjoy and be fascinated by, maybe even love, what eludes our play-by-play; we can welcome what is bigger or other than what we’ve ever perceived before.

 

But not DT. He seems to be one of the very few who feel they must control, manipulate, fabricate everyone and everything until other people only walk, talk, and appear as they would dress them. Only a very few feel they can’t feel secure, maybe can’t breathe unless there’s no one or nothing but themselves in their world shaping it. They’re just too ignorant about controlling themselves they try to make up for it by controlling others.

 

For example, look at DT’s response to the killing of Charlie Kirk. In a way, this murder was both awful and a perfect opportunity for him and his sycophants. It provided a chance to fertilize the delusion, hate, and division they’ve been growing for years, for lying about and demonizing “the left,” which in their definition is anyone who opposes their lust to turn this nation into a racist dictatorship they control.

 

Charlie Kirk was an outspoken conservative activist. Oliver Willis, writing for Daily Kos, said it seems many have been forgotten that he was also “a bigot, misogynist, and a racist who regularly excused the very sort of gun violence that ended his life.” Kirk said, in 2023, “It’s worth to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the second amendment.” Did he mean to excuse 47,000 killed by guns in 2023 alone? How about 27 killed in 2012 in Sandy Hook Elementary School or 19 killed in Robb Elementary School in 2022? What about 47 school shootings so far this year?

 

Kirk’s killer, Tyler Robinson, comes from a Republican, Mormon, church-going family. He has no criminal record. He turned himself in to police after being encouraged to do so by his parents and a retired police officer who knew his family through their church. He even took responsibility for the vile murder on his social media platform, saying “im sorry for all of this.” He was dating his roommate, a transgender person, and the revelation of this relationship set up a tsunami of speculations, lies, and distortions led by DT himself.

 

Instead of using this awful event to bring people together in the face of violent death, DT used it to manipulate a violent reaction against Democrats, LGBTQ+, immigrants, and his opponents. “The radicals on the right are radical because they don’t want to see crime…” he said. This ignores the fact that for the last 40 years especially, most politically motivated violence came from the right. “The radicals on the left are the problem – they want men in in women’s sports, they want transgender for everyone, they want open borders…”

 

He said…

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

When We Turn Reality into Myth: Supposed Mythical Beings Now Walk the Streets and Stop to Stare Us in the Face

In the past, it seemed that the mythical meanings of events were more subtle and hidden, but no more. They walk the streets with us and often stop to stare us in the face. Myth can mean a traditional, sacred, or universal story, a story of heroes and heroines, creator beings and destroyers⎼ a story revealing a more intuitive way of viewing life, an invisible realm that parallels our usual one. And it can also mean an untruth or false belief.

 

And today, our president illustrates both meanings. He has taken lies, corruption, a lust for power and vindictiveness against opponents to such historic levels he has created for himself an image of a being larger than human. Many recognize his behavior as that of a wannabe deity, a destroyer being walking the halls of our capital. But for too many others who follow him blindly, he’s an angel of vengeance.

 

But instead of this mythical being living only in story and legend, he’s very human and all too real. And what we, the rest of us, are called to do can feel like something only a hero could accomplish. But usually we don’t feel heroic; we feel like ordinary beings facing a reality that is extraordinarily unbelievable, frightening, and despicable.

 

For example, the DT administration is planning to destroy or abandon satellites that collect information about pollution and carbon build up in the atmosphere, as well as terminate the collection of weather data that collects vital information on hurricanes.

 

And why such enmity for something as basic as weather information? Why terminate the satellites unless the goal is to end scientific research into⎼ and proof of⎼ human-caused climate change? He’s blocking the availability of information that can be used to protect the environment and sustain human life on this planet. And instead, he’s empowering private entities and corporations to abuse the environment our lives depend on.

 

Politico reports that DT has stopped information from the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program from being distributed to users. This includes data on hurricanes that has been crucial in protecting people who live on the coast from dangerous weather conditions. Weather collection has greatly improved since Katrina, but DT’s actions can put that at risk, and put lives at risk. Will free weather reports and all regular weather satellites be destroyed next?

 

When I was teaching high school, students wanted me to not use the word ignorance. They disliked anything that sounded like bullying, abuse, being unfair; and calling someone ignorant can do just that. And I loved that concern by students. But ignorance can also serve a powerful descriptive purpose. The root ig means not, opposite of. And nore comes from the Latin gnarus, meaning aware or to know. Ignorance is not knowing, not-seeing what’s right there to see and know. It has a connotation of willful not-knowing.

 

In the past, ignorance was considered a detriment, even dangerous for a politician. Now, we have a president working to create a reign of ignorance, particularly about who he is. He’s pushing ignorance and greed over accurate knowledge and favoring the advancement of a few wealthy and politically powerful individuals over protecting the health and safety of all of us on this planet.

 

Unbelievably, instead of protecting our health, he’s directly undermining it….

 

*To read the whole piece, please go to The Good Men Project.

Schools of Education Should Become Academies of Listening: Finding A Magical Eloquence

I woke up at 1:15 am. I didn’t want to be awake. I wanted to rest and dream. To be unconscious. Then, in the background, I heard a wonderful mix of sounds that surprised me with its steady presence. And my attention shifted to it⎼ to the continuous song of crickets, harmonizing with the individually louder, more irregular song of cicadas.

 

And maybe it was some quality in the sound itself or maybe it was in the focusing of attention, but the sound became everything. Afterwards, I thought it a bit magical, because all inner dialogue, all talk about missing sleep or missing anything, had also disappeared. This was not something supernatural, but revealingly natural. Inner dialogue requires a sort of split in being, an idea of a me to talk and another to talk to. But the song of crickets was both the speaking and the hearing, the subject and object. For a moment, hearing the crickets and cicadas was hearing listening itself. Then I fell asleep.

 

Sometimes our lives can be so precarious, painful, and bleak. Or it can seem banal one minute, and alive, unexpected, instructive the next. The focus on crickets doesn’t always work; it’s not a sleeping pill. It’s not automatic. But, I think, we all want experiences that are engaging and interesting, or that make us interesting, to ourselves, as well as to others. That, as the poet David Hinton says in his book Orient: Two Walks at the Edge of the Human, awakens in us a good story, one that exposes our uniqueness. This simple magic does that. We need a quality of attention to get there, that allows us to hear the eloquence of crickets and cicadas. That allows us to find in that eloquence a universe larger than where we often imagine we reside.

 

I usually meditate and exercise in the morning. For years, I’ve been learning how to keep attention awake to whatever arises inside or around me, and to attention itself, so it doesn’t get lost in distractions. Or I’d do a standard practice of counting each breath. This entails counting each exhalation. Then being aware of each inhalation and the space between the two. As I exhaled, I’d silently say onnnneee to myself. Then I’d feel the pause⎼ and let the inhalation happen simply by itself. And with the next exhalation, I’d say twwwooo to myself. But on this day, each pause became clear, and not just something to get done or cross off a list. Every breath, every moment became important.

 

I realized how my “normal” awareness often skipped over moments. And I didn’t want to skip so much of life. I didn’t want to lose the moments when crickets speak, for example.

 

And there’s another reason why the sound is so important to me. It has a personal meaning. Crickets get so loud at the end of summer. And when I was still working, still teaching, and August came around, the crickets would remind me that my vacation was almost over. The  new school year was about to begin, and the sense of summer’s freedom was almost gone. I had to take advantage of this moment now, before it was lost to me. So, each night, I would sit on one of the steps of my deck, one of my cats on my lap, and I’d do nothing but listen.

 

And this pausing in my life helped me prepare for the school year….

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.