This morning I was singing a song in the shower.

As I read this question, I tried to think of that song, but because of the question, all I could think of was, "It's the last song I'll ever write for you.  It's the last time that I'll tell you, just how much I really care. . .."

I don't know who sang that song, but it's an ear-worm now.

AVP works!!

This is a question, despite its English-as-a-Second Language phrasing, or maybe because of it, that I could take weeks and volumes to answer. 

I think the short answer is: AVP works, although this simple declaration shortchanges MY being discharged from the Marine Corps as a 1-O Conscientious Objector and minimizes nearly fifty years of struggle, study, and practice.

"The Alternatives to Violence Project (AVP) is a multi-cultural", experiential, "volunteer organization that is dedicated to reducing violence in our society.  AVP workshops present conflict management skills that can enable individuals to build sucessful interpersonal interactions, gain insights into themselves and find new positive approaches to their lives." (AVP Basic Manual, p A-4)

This article is one of the best I've read on AVP.

Through three-day neighborhood and prison-based workshops, focused on exercises, games and discussions, AVP is designed to bring lasting internal changes and a continuing personal awareness of each individual's ability to actively transform violence into opportunities for growth, change and peaceful transformations to build shared community through consensus and cooperation.

Today, I am almost always able to be in the midst of conflict, stress and strife without experiencing too much internal change, or engagement, especially if the conflict is someone else's, and not strictly personal to me.

For me, being able to be still and centered in the middle of other people's conflict is largely because I have participated in many AVP workshops and because I have long ago dedicated myself to a progressively stronger commitment and practice of living without anger, violence, or struggle.  This apparent calm revolves around holding a view of others that accepts that we are all imperfect and living the same struggle -- no matter how extreme that struggle may seem at the moment.

Unfortunately, I am not always able to remain so sanguine in my own personal conflict, but I work hard at improving these skills every day.

The immediate picture that popped into my head was of nubile young serving girls in harem pants with fresh orange juice and English muffins.  I reckon they got tops on too, but I didn't get that far because the moment I thought of them harem pants, I started thinking about this little ol' gal back on Ninth Street when I was younger, and I totally, and I do mean to use totally here, lost track of the question.

Maybe that's a good way to be enlightened as well?

It's amazing that Joe Honeywell and I weren't officially Gaia friends after following HIM around this site for more than a year.  I rectified that this AM.  Also amazing that Joe used an H. L. Mencken quote before breakfast.  The man must be truly cynical.

More amazing than all of that is that I am even out of bed this morning. 

Didn't go to bed until four hours after my bedtime; slept restless, which I hardly ever do and had to pry MY eyes open with saline solution: Something I probably do  twice a year.  Ugghh!  I am a genuine morning person.  Love the dawn and its promise.  Is it karma that Sweet Siona asks this question on this day?  Or just coincidence.

Hand-made card for the reader who tells ME the best answer for what a scientist like MY-Self calls the reason that Siona asked this question on this particular day.

Finally, extraordinarily amazing that I actually ask people here: "Will you be MY friend?"  Every time I ask that of someone, I feel like a socially-backward junior high school student somehow partially-cloned to Mr. Rogers!  Is that stupid, or what?

Love to YOU ALL this fine, wonderful morning.  Dance on the clouds and make love to everyone YOU meet!!  And never pass a child without making HIM/HER laugh!

PS: I'm up because I have to change some equipment before lunch and add two more Mencken quotes that I personally cannot live without:

“The most dangerous man, to any government, is the man who Is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos. Almost invariably he comes to the conclusion that the government he lives under is dishonest, insane and intolerable, and so, if he is romantic, he tries to change it. And if he is not romantic personally, he is apt to spread discontent among those who are.”

“The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule.”

Be as much of your natural human self as you can be.  YOU don't need to join the Army to be all that you can be: Grief is a much better teacher.  JOY is still better, but joyous, loving, supportive community is the best teacher of all -- even for solitary misanthropes lke my-Self.  Love to you ALL and should you be grieving, or even just having those lonely, isolated feelings, please feel free to contact me:

peacemakersink@hotmail.com

(607) 434-0163

Thatnumber is for a cellphone: In my pocket, except during meetings and I'm thinking about reconsidering that condition.  O, yes, when I am at prison, I am completely out of contact, and out-of-context, THEY won't let me blog there.

Please do not hurt yourself, or Others. 

Love to you and MY deepest respect ALWAYs, RicHIe

Even knowing how stupid, and potentially dangerous, actions of this sort are, I am about to move my air conditioner, off the chair, where it has been living for the last three weeks, or so, and into the closet where it will spend the snowy part of the year.

I do so love them comma-splices: Think Early Russians growing up by the projects.

I'm not overly concerned about the air conditioner and definitely not concerned about being hurt; I'm much more likely to break something than be hurt and I strongly believe that I won't even break anything.  But here alone in the house, it does occur to me that I would caution any of MY workers "not to do what I have done."

I surely don't want to spend the next little portion of my "life in sheer (foot) misery," but I want to move the air conditioner because it is sitting there staring at me accusingly and it is either move it, shoot it, or throw it through the window.  Since I haven't owned a gun since MY divorce, many years ago, I cain't shoot it, although I'm pretty sure that any of MY neighbors would loan me a gun.

Throwing the little unit out the window, only means I will have a smashed air conditioner laying on MY front sidewalk, staring at me accusingly, and a broken window howling at MY early winter stupidity and wrongly-placed largesse.

The air conditioner, posting here, millions of chores here and at work, staring at me is the central essence of my problem.

On a personal level, I let the Viking-Samurai flow like the Irish-Buddha he genuinely believes hisself to be, even when I don't know what to do, or have no drive to do it. 

Just like "I don't know is an answer, too."  Doing nothing is an okay action as well.

Got to let my-Self BE.

In a group, I insist on consensus, or I pass . . .  AND consensus is not democracy.

Loving service: "Shower the people you love with love."  And then love MORE people!  Completely embrace the idea of: One family; one planet!  OUR family and planet.

So here's today's dilemma: 

And Die-lemma it is; I wish that I could crawl into a hole.  I don't crawl well, though.

I went down to the bottom of MY own profile page and clicked the link that said, "More" at the bottom of the Grapevine thing.  BIG mistake.

I got months and months of you nice people sending me best wishes that I haven't even seen; my guilt is redoubled; I'm gonna open a vein.

Sitting here thinking, Shit.  Now I got to answer ALL those loving supportive posts, or I got to go around and kill them ALL so no one will know my shame, I groaned out loud and started beating myself over the head for being double the fuck-up that I was yesterday.  On top of how lazy and useless I been feeling the last coupla weeks, it was like injury to insult.  I didn't have the energy to kill ALL ya'll.

Then I stared laughing.

Ya'll probably don't care whether, or not, I answer them little grapevine posts at this late date.  Most of ya'll probably forgot and forgave already.  Maybe some of ya'll thought I was ignoring you months ago when ya posted, but I'm thinking IF any of ya'll held onto some kind of resentment this long, you need serious help anyway.

Probably more help than I can give, or that my answer will provide.  You'll have to look for a professional.  Just as I have chosen this place for my confessional.

Can ya'll bear with me long enough for me to decide what to do about this?

A coupla weeks ago, I promised MY sponsee that I would go to Bill Wilson's house in East Podunk.  At the time of my promise, I was excited to go and happy that I was supporting MY sponsee's madcap plan: Maybe it'll keep him sober.

What do I know?

This morning though, when the alarm went off, I did not want to go, and I was very grumpy, about my agreement; I can be any one of the Seven Dwarfs at any moment.  But Grumpy, Doc, and Dopey are MY specialties.

Despite a continuing argument with myself, I got my ass out of bed and into the shower.  I drove twenty miles to the meet up, all the while reminding myself that I ought to have stood in bed and that I had a million, count 'em, a million things to do, beginning with cleaning the last of the summer stuff out of the garage, so we can park the slow-starting car inside during the winter.

 I wasn't in the foulest of moods when I got to where WE were loading the cars for the 2 and 1/2 hour drive to Vermont, but I wasn't my normal happy self either.  Nine of MY friends were there though, and MY sponsee was walking on air, having organized the whole shindig on his own and I quickly began to feel better.  A lot better.

WE took a non-smoking van and a smoking car and we headed off for OUR three-hour tour.  In the van, I read in between the several hundred stops for gas, coffee and donuts, while MY seat-mates slept, or argued about the GPS.  Most of US have known each othr for a while and we get along, so the ride was FUN.

Finally, WE got to Bill Wilson's house in East Dorset, but the smoking car had gone to Bill's gravesite first.  When WE finally caught up with THEM, WE all sort of milled around Bill's grave, and loudly celebrated being out of the cars.  Did I mention that ALL of this, the meet-up, the 1627 stops, and the milling around Bill's grave, had been taking place in the middle of an icy rain?  It's usually cold and wet in November in Vermont, or anywhere up here for that matter.

Some of US were standing around smoking, and others putting NA keychains into the bowl-full of AA medallions and coins already on the grave, and asking each other, "Are WE allowed to put NA coins on Bill's grave?" Then one of OUR number said that he wanted to burn a small piece of paper containing the chemical symbol for Dextromethorphan.  ALL the horseplay died out immediately and WE formed a circle around the grave.  WE all stood quietly while OUR friend burned his small piece of paper.  Then, as WE stood hugging in the freezing rain, another fella said a prayer of thanks and intreaty, which was very brief, but seemed to go on for several days; as I do not pray, but only stand quietly while Others pray, the prayer probably seemed longer than it was, even though it was quite moving.

To be continued . . .

"Love conquers all things."   -- Virgil

Despite being conscious in this body for more than fifty years, it still catches me flatfooted how some folks respond to me.

Some people think that THEY can walk up on ya and just say whatever-the-fuck comes into THEIR heads without getting a rap on the beak. 

I know THEY must not really be seeing "the real me" though, or THEY'd certain hold THEIR tongue cause I am a BIG, old, half-crazy motherfucker, keep yore Mama off the streets, Thank-you very much, who is heavily-armed and highly-skilled, AND who is  like to go off half-cocked at any given moment.

"I gotta shake my head and wonder . . ."  Thank God for John Prine and I do not use the G-word lightly.  I don't know "Why?" so many do.

Anyway, some knucklehead said that something I said, "Mocks God!"  My first response was, "What the fuck are you talking about?"  But I was thinking, You got to stop smoking that shit!  But I always think about possible addiction first.

He rolled off onto a long, complex description of a god about as big as a breadbox and wiggled around what I said until it seemed to mock his tiny god.  After ten, or twelve paragraphs of preamble, and forty minutes, of metaphysical explanation,  I could not honestly remember what it was that I had said and I was about ready to pick him up by his shirtfront and toss him into the nearby river. 

Luckily, you live in the Northeast, you always got a river nearby, or at least a crick.

Well, I didn't throw the so-and-so down a flight of stairs and then go by his house and kill all his pets and family, but I did get to thinking, and my first thought was, God cannot be mocked.  Certainly not by some old, fat, hillbilly-cracker with a BIG mouth like my-Self; I know for sure that God just look down lovingly upon me and consider the source, while She having a good laugh at MY expense, of course.

How anthropomorphic OUR understanding of everything is, and understandably so, because WE are humans: Kiinda stuck in that anthro-thing.  I know that I am doing my anthropomorphic best right here, and that I have possibly the narrowest vision of any human being of  Nature and of Nature's God, and rabidly project my skinny  understanding without conscious-thought, but even I know: God Cannot Be Mocked!

Thankx for listening.  Love to you all and make sure the next time ya wanna throw somebody in the river that it ain't me, Please.

Love yourself.  Love Others.  Accept everything in your life right now exactly as it is and help someone else.  Smile and laugh a lot.

Today, I would like to reaffirm that no one has the right to pick on me. 

I been affirming this viewpoint, since I was about six, or seven, sometimes at great cost to myself and Others.  I know it sound quite baby-like for a great BIG old man like myself to be still worried about folks pickiing on him: Got a certain, "Woe is me!" ring to it.  But I ain't really worried about ANY viewpoint that expects me not to have ANY of MY feelings at ANY given time.  THEM judgmental SOBs can go suck a sock, or better yet, go off in the corner and cry themselves to sleep, as THEY so often do, whenever there ain't nobody looking, of course!  The two-faced little sew-and-sews.

Many folks think THEY can say, or do anything THEY want without the slightest effect upon, or reaction from, Others: that's the God's honest Truth . . .

. . . and I do not use the T-word lightly.

Three times, yesterday, I used my best tools to restrain myself in conversations with devout and ornery knuckleheads; I felt like St. Pete denying OUR Lord Jesus.  I got to say, "I was right filled with some kind of Spirit."

I was actually kind of proud of my-Self, but frustrated none the less.  The, to me, amazing fact that the people bothering me the most, were those closest to me, only added depth to the wound, and deepened my confusion.  I mean these are people that I am ALWAYS just nice and cheery toward, right?  Tain't no wonder to me that WE kill those closest to US first: Knowing how crazy that sounds.

Why I been waking up with earworms every day?  How Brianna got to be so smart? Will synonym for light really go to jail?  Do I love Mila more than John Powers?    And why Miss Shuganah ain't bothering me every day like I planned for her to be?

Don't know how to start a group, or a seedpod, or whatever the farmer, it's called, but I have been thinking about making an earworm group.  Been waking up every morning with some kind of song in my head.  This is especially true when I got laid the night before.  Don't tell MY wife though.  She hates me blaming her for MY stuff!

This morning, it was Billy Joel's "Tell Her About It."  No, I ain't telling you whether, or not, I got laid: That is so fucking juvenile!

Also, I was thinking that it would be nice IF I could access ALL my past links because I mostly use the same links over and over; I'm boring like that sometimes and reusing MY previous links would make it so much easier to be stupefyly repetitive.

And some way to navigate past pages on my profile would be nice.

Just gonna put down ten words, or so, about today's earworm.  Today's sweet little wake-up jingle is an oldie-but-goodie: John Prine's Pretty Good.  And the phrase that kept repeating was, " . . . got raped by Dobbins dog . . . pretty good, not bad."

This is one of my favorite songs because I love John Prine and because the last part of Pretty Good says,  " . . . all them gods are just about the same."  This is such a wonderful song lyric, and so profound a thought, and fit so well into my brain, that I thought I coulda wrote it myself, or that I had somehow possessed Mr. Prine.  Worse, maybe Johnny-Boy was talking to my deepest paranoias.  Oh, JOY!!

Hearing Mr. Prine, literally as my eyes opened, set me to wondering, Are these just songs that I know well and keep repeating.  The quick answer for that quiz was, "No, cause that one the other day wasn't even a song I liked.  I'd of rather woke up to the 1910 Fruitgum Company." 

I'm not sure which song the old noodle was talking about, though I think it coulda been: "This is the last song, I'll ever write for you . . . by Edward Bear" that I couldn't get outta my head the other day.  How can it be strictly MY head, though, IF I got all these space invaders flogging around up there.  I use the phrase "all these" advisedly; I don't want ya'll to start thinking I got much room up there.

Now I'm thinking about whether, or not, this music has always been present when I was getting out of bed and into the shower?

I heard allah and buddha were singing at the saviors feast
And up the sky and arabian rabbi
Fed quaker oats to a priest.
Pretty good, not bad, they cant complain
Cause actually all them gods is just about the same
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Cause actually everything is just about the same

John Prine

MY Missus had a stack of photos of a coupla Calder sculptures that a friend of hers sent to her.  MY Wife loves Calder, and mobiles in general.

Along the lines of what many have written here: I stopped, momentarily captured, after plugging in the oil-heater, staring at the half-coiled-half-tangled elongated heap, of the orange electric cord seeming to float against the oak boards of the living room floor.

But I probably do crap like that four hundred times a day: No exaggeration.

And I know, "Why?!?" which in some ways makes it worse.

Sitting in my chair responding to this question.

Been doing the Spiritual Path thing for a very long time, but I agree with boogie that this moment is the only one: The First and the Last, so to speak.

Been SOBER for a long time, and I always get a kick out of those rockers and newbies, usually the three-to-fifteen set, who come to the rooms and tell people that "it's the quality of your sobriety that counts, not the quantity."  Once at a meeting in NYC, I heard some crusty, "old-timer" tell one of them fellas, "Well, come back when you get a little quantity and we'll talk about the quality." 

I mostly go to meetings for the humor these days.

My Grandpa used to say that a man could "get thirty years of experience, or he could get the same experiences for thirty years."  I don't even think that matters any more either.  When I stop to think about my sobriety, my humility, or my spiritual condition, I'm already out of the loop and not living my Spiritual principles in ALL my affairs.

I've never heard anyone, who I think has good long-term sobriety, actually talk about any of these things, except privately, of course, and then only for a very brief and specific reason.  I guess that's what I get for thinking. 

I try to do as little of it as possible, as you can tell by the writing here.

Blaming Other people, and I am really, really good at it!  Really . . .

1) What are you thankful for today?

That the day is almost over. 

I had a really long day: Satisfying and productive, but very, very long.  I drove a hundred and thirty miles to pick up some drug addict from a treatment center and then back home again-- mostly in the icy rain.

When we got to where he was supposed to be staying, his sister-in-law gave him the bad news: He couldn't stay there.  Period.  She was not very helpful.  Wouldn't even let him leave his bag there, while he talked to his brother about staying at some later time.  That was about noontime; then we spent the next six hours getting him into some warm, dry housing.  Where he is now, safely sleeping; I hope.

He told me I was his "Good Shepherd."  I told him that IF I was his good shepherd, he was in BIG trouble.  WE didn't work that out yet.

2) What do you appreciate about the Earth? 

Large bodies of water: Oceans, the Great Lakes, any BIG lake.  Hell, even cricks will do, IF I am in the mood.  Something about water always cools me out.

3) Who is the last person you said "thank you" to?

Sunday, MY Son and I ended a little tug-of-war that WE had going on about him not wearing his "favorite jeans" around me, since the fly was permanently torn open. 

He kindly conceded to pick out some new favorite jeans and I thanked him most sincerely, and felt quite proud that I didn't throttle him!

4) When was the last time someone thanked you?

MY Wife just thanked me, like fifteen minutes ago, for "not waiting until Christmas to give" her the extra memory that I bought for her computer. 

I also wanted to mention my sponsee who thanked me so innocently, beautifully, and sincerely when WE went to Bill Wilson's House in Vermont, last week.  I think I'm his hero too, which only means them boys just got to get to know me better.  I think.

5) What is your favorite way to say thank you?

Good eye contact, while I reach out and clasp their hand to pull them into a BIG warm BEAR HUG.  Failing that, I tie them to a chair and explain my gratitude in depth.

I promise I will tag five innocent victims, but not tonight.

Everything is inherently worthwhile. 

Thinking that some things are worthwhile, and some things are not worthwhile, is the  problem.  Seeing any lack of worth means that I am separated from God in the Judeo-Christian sense, holding onto my desires in a Buddhist sense, or holding MY-Self out from the Flow in the Taoist sense.  I am sure that pagans, atheists and Wiccans have some similar inclusive part of THEIR own philosophy.  Just as ALL Spiritual systems share some version of The Golden Rule. 

No humanist would argue this idea: *Humanism is inclusive, too.

Who am I to make such judgments?  Deciding what is worthwhile, or even what things are worthwhile, ALWAYS puts me in some better-than-less-than quandary. 

Thank God, I am a recovering drug-addict, literally back-from-the-dead because I know I am not fit to make such judgments. 

No human being has the ability, nor the right, to choose who goes left and who goes right when people get out of the boxcars.

And ALL judgments about worth eventually end with one group in an open grave.

* Humanism: "...critical intelligence, infused by a sense of human caring, is the best method that humanity has for resolving problems. Reason should be balanced with compassion and empathy and the whole person fulfilled."
                                                   Humanist Manifesto II; Ethics section.

For OUR whole Humyn family living in peace today and for ALL of OUR children to have shoes, a full stomach, and maybe a little piece of candy. 

Is that too much to ask?.

Okay.

IF anyone read my second grumbly ThankxGiving post this morning, you know that the "gratitude" questions bug me.  No end!

I mean, "Hell it's the same old thing every ThankxGiving, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!  Just cause some narrow-minded, intolerant, Injun-killing, stake-burning, religious fanatics took one day off from robbin' and murderin' to allegedly have one meal where THEY was supposedly grateful, or at least pretended to be, I got to answer the same gratitude question every November for the next three hundred years?" 

I don't think so.

So . . . this is what I want ALL of YA'LL to do: Write a ThankxGiving question here that does not have to do with being grateful for indoor plumbing. 

Can ya stand the challenge?  I know SOME of YA'LL don't understand the DI-rections, but take a shot at it.  I'll skol ya, IF'n ya ain't on track!

Love to you all and please, please, please, have the most bountiful and thrilling of Happy Thanksgivings that you have ever had. 

Best to ALL of YOUR Families!  Riotous RicHIe

Fpr once, I would be grateful not to have the "Gratitude Topic," every ThankxGiving because MY WorldView says, "IF I ain't grateful every moment, I ain't practicing being grateful at all."  I ain't talking lemonade from lemons here either, Folks.

I'm talking about being grateful for what hurts, for what is "wrong," for what is seemingly negative and intractable.  I don't do the gratitude thing very well, but there are some people here who do it real good.  I also got a few of THEM Folks in my meatspace constantly reminding me how lucky I really am.  From time to time.

There must be some other topic that would be a great ThankxGiving question like "What makes you feel like the world's biggest turkey?"  Or "What is one way you could help someone else with their gratitude today?"  Or screw gratitude all together, "What's your favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal?"  Stuffing: But is it called "stuffing," or "dressing," where you Hill-Williams come from?

I know I am not making much progress in the Alternative Thanksgiving Question thing here, but hell, I'm at least trying.

I know this sounds like sucking up, but I am grateful for Siona and these questions, even when they might not make my top ten questions list.

God bless ALL of YOU today -- and I do not use the G-word lightly.  R

One humyn family; one peaceful planet.