Sunday, January 11, 2009

2009 — PLANTING AMONG THE TREES


I find myself resonating between the amplitudes of "we are the ones we've been waiting for" aspect of the Hopi elder's prayer I posted a while back and the always levitating angel of depression, Unremitting Failure, who just posted this reply to such a proposition, if so, "What the fuck took us so long?" I guess it could be attributed to the post election doldrums and pre inaugural speculative crapola that seems to occupy the news I seem to have become more addicted to than is easy to admit. The closest to a justification I can come would be my new sense of engagement, involvement in a what I would love to believe is a national paradigm shift to a greener more symbiotic way of living with the environmental nature of this planet rather than as its exploitive owner. There is no arguing the fact that George Bush slipped into daddy's car and wrecked it because we thought it was on automatic child proof.

So what are my hopes for 2009?

First, I hope we ARE the ones we've been waiting for by educating our children with our own good examples of personal symbiosis with our environment instead of settling for and shipping them off to the Amerkin Extrusion & Molding Company our education system has become in hopes that subjecting them to new improved versions of the Christian-America exceptionality that warped our formative years will help them conform in a less painfully debilitating way than it turned out for most of us to be. As if. Each one of us is more moral than all of us.

Second, I'd like the Secretary of Education to recognize the valuable contribution to be had from the experience of retirees from the steeple chase of a career as mentors to lend perspective to instruction through all stages of education. I am thinking of the organic education system I read of on the island of Tikopi where one is considered a child at play, even while gardening and fishing for food, until one begins to reflect on their lives and become more sedentary and easier, more encouraging prey to the burgeoning curiosity of the children's attention soaking up the reflections and tales of the elders.

Third — after the immediate priorities of ceasing both our criminal wars of occupation and incarcerating the criminals that lied us into and perpetuated them have been satisfied — the problems of oil dependency, environmental pollution, corporate bailout and unemployment may be faced as one front under a Secretary of the Future which employs people in the research and development of alternative energy generation and distribution through established manufacturers now required to retool for non petroleum based energy sources and methods of transmission. I outlined a scenerio earlier about a vehicle powered pneumatically on city streets that converts to a hover craft driven by the electricity drawn from the surface of a solar cell interstate highway system which, since the revolutionary reworking of the nation's infrastructure during its much belated maintenance, supplies enough harmless electric power for the entire planet. No more power lines, the highway is the circuit board/power grid and we are Tron.

Fourth, I'd like to see food production be returned to local responsibility for the dual benefit of increased production and nutrition yielded by more personal, organic, less mechanized, chemically and genetically altered care and a more general concern for the welfare of our environment throughout the population as a guard against renewed abuse.

Then, I guess I'd have to break the habit of pinching myself because my normal environment of something to hope for would have been transformed into a realization of my pipe dreams and carving a piece of wood would be the mere happening it had formerly felt like a distraction from hoping for. Shoobedobedo.

I got myself a voice recorder. It leaves me strangely mute to begin with but doesn't distract me with the aesthetics of my hand writing and certainly is more handy for more explanatory jots than,

A note so pure it sucked the wind out of me

or

A slingshot has more range
Than spit pits of some orange


And they said it couldn't be done!

1 comment:

Pisces Iscariot said...

here! here! to all of the above.
Oh, and keep on jotting - especially enjoyed the spit orange pits.