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Cheers,

BuFoon Steve

That’t the question from Soul Pancake this Sunday Morning when the weatherman says our early taste of Spring here in the NW may be sidetracked for a day or two of “November-like” weather, including a few snowflakes. Maybe that would be just fine:

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Washington, DC Snow Storm from Es Video! on Vimeo.

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Or, maybe I’ll quit daydreaming and publish yet another gorgeous piece of imaginative writing from a BuFoon, this time BuFoon John.

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As you read John’s introduction to his haunting poem, “Angry Man,” I remind you that this gentle man gives hours and hours every month to serving his fellow veterans, volunteering at a healthcare clinic, helping in any way he can. He’s relentless in his caring.

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When you read ”Angry Man” it will become obvious to you that I am a Vietnam Veteran.

I am also one of those lucky Native Americans who hold a dual citizenship with Canada and the U.S.. My home Rez (aka “reservation”) is in upstate New York and crosses that line known as the Canadian/U.S. border. So why didn’t I go to Canada instead of going into the U.S. Navy/Marines? Native Americans’ pride in their country is perhaps stronger than any of all the nationalities in this grand nation. After all, they have been here the longest. They loved their country before the Europeans. They respected and cared for it and call it Mother. After the Europeans and after the broken treaties and creation of reservations, they still love their country: respect, love, and still call Her Mother.
    
My Grandfather, Father, Uncles, and Brothers, and all my male cousins and some of the female as well, served in the military: either the U.S. Navy, Marines or in the Canadian Military. My Grandfather served in both the Canadian and the U.S. Navies.  So it is that I too served out of respect for my relatives and for my country. 

It is out of respect for all Veterans that I have written this to hopefully shed some light into the ghosts we now carry. War creates so many ghosts for veterans that only another veteran can understand. This is my attempt to show non-veterans a glimpse of those ghosts.

War is never the answer. I think wars should be fought by the politicians that declare them. Hold a Super Bowl and bring in the Politicians, armed with paintball equipment, and have it out, while the rest of us cheer for one side or the other in the stands. Kind of like feeding Christians to the Lions in the Arena: that is without killing even the lions. Can’t you just see it? President Obama and Bin Laden having it out with a Paint Ball battle in the Super Bowl Dome? 

Not realistic you say? Better than killing innocent people, better than creating Ghosts to linger a lifetime and after. Better than a lifetime of weeping for all concerned.

John Joseph

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AN ANGRY MAN
John Joseph Feb 27-2010

The 1960’s
Flower Children,
Haight Ashbury,
Woodstock,
Timothy O’Leary,
Peter, Paul and Mary,
Iron Butterfly’s In A Gadda Da Vida,
Joan Baez,
Buffy St. Marie,
To mention a few.
Time of innocence,
Protest the War.

War In Vietnam;
Not a War,
Police Action,
Stop the Commies.

Where have all the Flowers Gone,
Kent State.
Stop the War in South East Asia,
Wage War on Universities,
Stop the Free Thinkers,
Might be Commies.

If I Had a Hammer,
Hammer out Justice.
Go To Canada,
Go to Norway, Sweden,
Escape Military Draft.

Grandfathers, Fathers, Uncles and Brothers,
Served our country
Proud to fallow their direction.

No Veterans No Free America.

Solders coming home,
Some wounded,
Some finish their tour.
Visions of war stamped deep
Into the psyche.

No Hero’s welcome,
Throw that garbage
At the baby killers,
And
War Mongers.
Throw the garbage
At the Traumatized,
Throw the garbage,
Increase their anger,
At the war machine,
Add to the psychological damage.
Cause more confusion.

Beware
Crazy, Veterans from Vietnam
Beware of those Angry Men.

Amnesty
For those who chose Canada,
Sweden, and other places.
Who will give amnesty
To the Veterans who chose Country First?

Desert Storm,
Afghanistan,
Iraq,
More Police Action?
Or War?
More Trauma
More Angry men.

They’re not Crazy,
Those Angry Men,
Aren’t
Yelling, screaming,
Or roaring,

They’re Weeping.

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Whatever your view of war in general and any war in particular, John’s introduction and poem speak volumes about FORGIVENESS. The native peoples, by serving in our military services with such honor and distinction, demonstrate love and forgiveness in the most dramatic and real way imaginable. They offer up their lives, as do all who serve in time of war. Many of us have not shown proper regard and respect and honor for this.

Cheers,

BuFoon Steve

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Music photographed by Jo Cavanagh

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The Fisher

Morning silence, kindled
By an eastern instant, hours past,
Pours through trees, through echoed
Stillnesses, and falls
A silent stream and long across the lake.

A boat appears; gently
Slaps the silence on its center course.

Then the quiet lifting
Of the oars; the rippling drip;
Flies waving weightless from the cornered rod—

While fisher, hooks in hat and all,
Slips, act on quiet act, down

Till, fathoms deep, drowsy melodies
Strike a one-string net
That sings of satisfaction
And of centuries of catch.

Gene Cavanagh

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A tip of the artist’s beret to the both of you!

Gratefully,

BuFoon Steve

Read this timely wisdom from two human beings with a world-class track record for being kind and truthful in ways that would make Niels smile:

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We received two emails in a certain week. The first was forwarded to and from a friend who spends her life dancing – in love with life, her husband and all her family:

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, ‘How about going to lunch in a half hour?’ She would gasp and stammer, ‘I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain.’ And my personal favorite: ‘It’s Monday.’ She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!

We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of ‘I’m going to,’ ‘I plan on,’ and ‘Someday, when things are settled down a bit.’

When anyone calls my ’seize the moment’ friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Roller Blades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

Now go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to — not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, whom would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask ‘ How are you?’ do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ And in your haste not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say ‘Hi?’

When you worry and hurry through your day it is like an unopened gift thrown away. Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.

Show your friends and family how much you care.

Life may not be the party we hoped for… but while we are here we might as well dance!

The second was from an old friend a few weeks after the death of his Mary:

I am surviving but the loss is an almost total change of life…I am like a kid in a new situation; I often fail to think straight and I grope for familiar landposts. Cherish each other and hold on to every minute you have together…it is so lonesome when you lose the physical presence of the love of your life. Her spirit is in my heart and will never leave.

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Thanks, you two. Well said.

BuFoon Steve

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In case your eyes are like mine and can’t possible read the fine print:

Robi Damelin lost her son David to a Palestinian sniper. Ali Abu Awwad lost his older brother Yousef to an Israeli soldier. But, instead of clinging to traditional ideologies and turning their pain into more violence, they’ve decided to understand the other side — Israeli and Palestinian — by sharing their pain and their humanity. They tell of a gathering network of survivors who share their grief, their stories of loved ones, and their ideas for lasting peace. They don’t want to be right; they want to be honest.

Click on the pic and read the whole story and/or listen to the actual Speaking of Faith public radio broadcast.

Cheers,

BuFoon Steve

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When you think of Carl Sagan you don’t ordinarily think “Romance.” Well, think again. This NPR bit had me blinking back the you-know-whats while I drove to work this morning (hoping my early morning appointmentee wouldn’t think I’d lost a kitty or something.) I you-know-what at the drop of a hanky, but even you more even-keeled types will be swallowing hard. Trust me.

Click on the NPR Logo, above, to go to the “print” version of the story, which includes the audio version and many “extra features,” or, LISTEN to the piece right away by clicking below. (Give the audio a few seconds to load and start.)

Get out your hanky and have a happy Valentine’s Weekend.

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Cheers and tears,

BuFoon Steve

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Until the day when I outvote myself on the Board of Directors, Niels’ original two precepts will be like the Ten Commandments: Etched in Stone, Standing Alone.

“Be Truthful” and “Be Kind” cover all the bases, as far as I can see. The Head and The Heart. The Head works best on a diet of Truth and The Heart thrives on Kindness.

(That’s not to say that The Head doesn’t need a balanced diet: Truth seasoned with Kindness is just what the doctor ordered. And so it goes for The Heart: Kindness without the salt of Truth can taste like treacle.)

I love the Dalai Lama wisdom on a wall hanging my thoughtful Spouse gave me:

This is my simple religion.
There is no need for temples
no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart
is our temple.
The philosophy is kindness.

All of that said, there’s no reason we can’t offer our own “11th Commandment” or “Third Precept” once in awhile, just for conversation.

Here’s mine:

“One of my main themes is joy in spite of everything. I don’t think that I am pollyannish; my characters suffer, they die. They experience pain, alienation, frustration–all the hardships of life that real people experience. But, my heroes and heroines, the characters with whom I most identify and who are most important to me, all insist on joy in spite of everything.”
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Essentially, “joy in spite of everything” amounts to a kind of defiant attitude, a refusal to be victimized by events over which one has no control. It reflects the belief that life is too short to be wasted in the anger or lamentation that easily could be generated by the era or area in which one, by circumstance, happens to reside. We must recognize the injustice and suffering that abounds in the world and do everything we can to alleviate it, yet in the same instant insist on having one hell of a good time.

Tom Robbins

That’s my Third Precept. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I can’t deal with the Truth and I can’t even Be Kind to myself, let alone all you scary strangers. In those times my fallback, my Plans B-thru-Z, are Tom’s “defiant attitude:”

Joy In Spite of Everything.

Cheers,

BuFoon Steve

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The word “Vodou” evokes images of sorcery and sticking pins into dolls. In fact, it’s a living tradition wherever Haitians are found based on ancestral religions in Africa. We walk through this mysterious tradition — one with dramatic rituals of trances and dreaming and of belief in spirits, who speak through human beings, with both good and evil potential.

In a synchronistic confluence of the news and the raison d’etre for the Church of BuVu, last week’s American Public Media radio show, Speaking of Faith, featured Haiti and Vodou. The program included a conversation between Buddhist Stephanie Keith and a Vodou priest, at an interfaith event in Brooklyn, New York.

Listen to the program and read and view other fascinating features HERE.

Author and futurist Jeremy Rifkin has written a book called The Empathic Civilization, in which he argues we are in the middle of a paradigm shift that is epochal.

The Emphatic Civilization is a fascinating book that boldly challenges the conventional view of human nature embedded in our educational systems, business practices, and political culture — a view that sees human nature as detached, rational, and objective, and sees individuals as autonomous agents in pursuit primarily of material self-interest. And it seeks to replace that view with a counter-narrative that allows humanity to see itself as an extended family living in a shared and interconnected world.

According to Rifkin, the progress of civilization has been a constant struggle between empathy — increased human connection — and entropy, the deterioration of the health of the planet. It is, quite literally, a race against time. “We are on the cusp of an epic shift,” he writes. “The Age of Reason is being eclipsed by the Age of Empathy.”

The Huffington Post Book of the Month Selection

Get the book, if you’re interested, and/or watch Jeremy talk about it:

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Gotta love the Internet and YouTube.

Cheers,

BuFoon Steve