Because we can’t have both.

The elections are over – mercifully, and millions of dollars later – and one side won most of everything. We have shown ourselves able to speak, after all, as a nation of diversity, and of some responsibility, some generosity, some compassion, and some good sense. And we voted by the millions, as the democracy we are, and were always intended to be.

And, although that is over, the fear mongering is likely not. It will continue – because it works. Democracy and fear are incompatible; they cannot coexist. The mongerers know this fact very well. Democracy functions only when citizens are reasonably fed, housed, educated, informed, productive, confident, and relatively unbowed by fear and want. Frightened people do not make wise decisions, even about their own welfare; often they can make no decisions whatsoever, and will do just what they are told to do, because they are terrified. When we are afraid, we feel powerless – whether we actually are, or not. This is just how most of us are: Human.

If you want to control people, do everything you can to keep them ignorant, poor, and deathly afraid, as much of the time as possible. THIS is the real reason the oligarchs want to gut government assistance for education, nutrition, welfare, job training, medical care, and other social programs. It has nothing to do with “fiscal responsibility”, or “reducing the deficit”, or “reducing the burden on our children and grandchildren”… And has everything to do with keeping as much of the populace as possible in a state of hungering malleability and civil impotence.

The chronically poor have real and legitimate fears: Legitimately afraid they won’t have enough to eat, because they so often don’t. Afraid they will have nowhere to live. Afraid of what will happen to them if they get sick or hurt. Afraid someone else will take what little they do have. Afraid their children will have no chance to live in conditions other than those in which they struggled to grow up. Afraid they are powerless. Afraid their lives mean nothing. (If this election did one thing, I think it did much to convince hundreds and hundreds of thousands of people that they have more power than they knew…)

But how to instill this kind of fear into the “average”, middle class, or even well off, members of our society…? The people who’ve pretty much been feeling they’re basically okay? That’s the ongoing challenge of the One Percent. They’ve got a few ideas, and they almost worked this time. At least almost half of us are apparently willing to give those ideas another try.

A natural disaster, or an incomprehensible act of terrorism, can be a bonanza here… 9-11. Katrina, Aurora, the BP Gulf oil spill, Sandy… In these situations, everyone is reduced to a state of near-equivalent deprivation and fear, at least temporarily. (Read Naomi Klein’s excellent 2008 book, The Shock Doctrine/The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, for an impressive summary of this kind of “opportunity.” She was on to something, even then.) Barring the availability of either of these kinds of events, the most common, and historically effective, tactic is to Invent An Enemy – an Other – and make it very clear that the Other is a real, imminent, and pernicious threat, about to destroy the very fabric of our society, starting by aggressively assaulting everything in which you believe. Nothing has to be rational or proven about the Other; it just has to be presented as an ominous danger, to you, personally. If that gay couple next door is allowed to marry, what’s to stop YOUR children from wanting to do the same, no matter how you feel about it? If that woman who was raped can get an abortion, what’s to stop the Other from making you have one, too? If that lay-about moocher on the other side of town, who probably wasn’t even born here, is given food stamps and a break on community college tuition, who knows what she’ll be asking for next – and how much of that will come out of your pocket? And – good lord – what if the Other insists that you’ll have to register that third AK-47 you’re planning to buy at the upcoming gun show? Keep the veiled innuendos great, and difficult to disprove. Provide plenty of “documentation,” even if you have to resort to recirculating six-year-old pieces of satire you found on the web, as new and factual. Just repost them, again and again, to as many people as possible, with the subject title, “IF YOU CARE ABOUT AMERICA, YOU MUST READ THIS!!!!!!!!!” Truth is for wimps. It’s the goal that matters. And that goal is to engender fear.

Make sure these dangers are kept continuously in the forefront of public consciousness. (It helps to have a good bundle of newspapers and other media outlets under your control for this – but all that takes is cash.) Intone ceaselessly that things are even worse than anyone can imagine, and that the threat has never been greater. Never allow the legitimacy of the danger to be questioned. Make sure that as many people as possible feel PERSONALLY threatened by the behavior of people they don’t even know, at all times, even if – and perhaps especially if – their personal lives are, in fact, not really threatened at all.

The threat of the Other flourishes in either a genuine, or simply perceived, culture of deprivation, oppression, and terror. Democracy, on the other hand, can thrive only in a society of confidence, adequacy, personal empowerment, and the assurance that there is truly “enough” for everyone – a society in which we are confident that we will be given help when we need it, and can give help to others when they do.

The truth is, there really IS – or could be – enough for all, but not as long as some of us insist that it is our “right” to live obscenely at the top, and others of us can be abandoned to live abjectly at the bottom, where we are deemed to deserve to be. It is highly unlikely that the One Percent will abdicate quietly, election or no election, and there is no reason to expect them to do so. Even they are well aware that their tool box is emptying rapidly… But the Fear Hammer is still in there, and I think we’ll still be seeing a lot of it. It’s about all they have left.

So… We have a choice: Democracy or Fear… But we can’t have both. Pick one. And pick wisely.

Carol

No picture this time, friends. Bear with me! I had vowed that I would avoid “politics” here, which was kind of crazy on my part, because that’s just what I’ve been obsessed with for as long as you may have been, and tomorrow we may start to get some idea of where we’re going. (Sandy left me, and much of the East Coast, with very few communication outlets for at least six days and, for many, more days to come. And many of our fellow citizens have lost much more than their ability to communicate…)

Our country is changing. The world is changing. We will either accommodate ourselves to these changes, and work with them, or we will become the newest “Third World Nation”… A nation whose laws are drawn to benefit multi-national companies, and their shareholders; whose land is raped for their profits, and not ours; run by a government who fears and loathes at least half of its citizens, and considers them (us) to be slackers and ne’er-do-wells; a country where a small minority of wealthy people live in walled compounds, surrounded by an angry, hungry, and uneducated populace, many of them armed and dangerous; a country whose government works to legally impose its “values” on the majority of its citizens. This is not the America I’ve ever had in mind, and certainly not the one I’d like to leave for my granddaughter.

These things are the absolute antithesis of what the founders of this great nation had in mind. The great premise of “America” has always been that we are a nation of citizens, not servants of some corporate entity. We are not here to create profits solely for others; we are here to benefit ourselves, and our fellow citizens, and our descendants, and we expect our government to reflect our wishes. Does anyone remember the British crown and its East India Company – the original “multi-national,” whose strangling grip our founders refused to endure? It strikes me as incredibly ironic that our current Tea Party, apparently so in support of letting Big Business escape the chains of “regulation,” is named after an event that was about exactly the opposite. THAT event was about our refusal to have our lives run by a corporation, its CEO, and its shareholders, to our own detriment.

So, IMHO, we don’t need a CEO for President. We need someone who understands that we are part of a global nation, as well as our own; someone who knows that we are one nation among many, and no more, and no less, exceptional than any other; who understands both our strengths and our weaknesses; who understands the strengths and weaknesses of other nations; and who is aware of our common humanity. In short, we need four more years of the President we have now – Barack Hussein Obama… Because he represents the nation we are, and the nation we were always meant to be.

Kaliento Behind A Short Tree

Two great friends, their laptops, and Splash, the Wonder Dog, in an RV (that’s us, above) parked in northern Idaho for more than a week… What could possibly happen? For the action/adventure crowd, there probably wasn’t much. But, if you’re someone who considers napping, writing, walking, talking, and eating, to be legitimate “things,” as I do, there was plenty going on. And that was the whole point.

Bets–my fine, refined, elegant, and all-around lovely and beloved friend–has been a “full-timer” in her rig for more than fourteen months, traveling around North America with her sweetie and her dog, staying as long as she wants, anywhere she likes, considering the weather, and barring medical emergencies and/or necessities, which have cropped up–and more of those than any of them had anticipated. Her decision to do this, her success in doing it, and her love of doing it, are a source of fascination and wonder to me, since my own current journey has been pretty much physically situated at home. But we are similar pilgrims, and it was wonderful to have time together as our voyages continue.

She drives a 2010 Ford 350 pickup truck, hauling a thirty-four-foot fifth wheel trailer. And that’s a BIG TRUCK. As it happens, she found her Big Truck while visiting me in western Connecticut. There we were, two seriously middle-aged women, walking into Colonial Ford, Truck Division. The sales people looked slightly bemused; finally, one of them, with an audible sigh, rose from behind his desk, and asked if he could help us. “Yes,” said Bets, in her most elegant and refined voice, “I’m looking for a truck–a really big truck.” That got their attention. And, thanks to Sal, a salesman who obviously takes both trucks and women very seriously, Bets got her truck. A few months later, she was on her way.

It was only eight days that I was a visiting “RVer,” almost three thousand miles from home, and, although we didn’t actually GO anywhere, I think I got a little taste of it. (No; it wasn’t the “Thelma and Louise” thing, and I knew it wouldn’t be. Those days are well behind both of us.) As an RV Tourist, I observed a number of interesting things:

First, it should be noted that all RVs are painted with grand swoopy designs, often including a “sunrise over the mountains” motif, sometimes with an added eagle or the occasional coyote head, in no more than three of four colors: black, grey, taupe, and beige–all on a white background. You will never see azure, or celadon, or burgundy, or–god forbid–coral. No political statements, not even this time of this year. No advertisements. No refrigerator art by the grandkids. Occasionally, you may see the names of the owners, and their pets, on the front doors. (“On the Road With Ralph and Anna, the Switzers, and Little Coco,” for example.) Many of the trailers themselves have names, such as “Adventurer,” or “Cimmaron,” or “Montana.” I saw nothing called “Key West,” or  “South Philadelphia.” Evidently, they are named for the dream, not the origin. My personal favorite was “Luxor”… As in the temple, I presume.

Somewhere out there I imagine a single graphic designer charged with trying to make large, horizontal, refrigerator-like objects look like they are NOT large, horizontal, refrigerator-like objects. In my personal opinion, that individual has been far from successful. The whole idea of “RV camouflage” I consider to be an exercise in futility. In comparison, the trailers of most eighteen-wheelers, commercial buses, and even rental U-Hauls, are an exhilarating symphony of graphic imagination and capitalist exhortation. Twelve-foot-high ice cream cones! Forty-foot-long, exquisitely rendered, fields of fresh produce and smiling children holding glasses of milk. Little Debbie, bigger than life. Peter Pan! A real missed opportunity for self-expression (or at least the making of a few bucks for travel expenses), it seemed to me.

The rigs arrive and depart very slowly, almost as if they’re trying to sneak in or out without being noticed–which seems silly, given than they are sized from large to enormous, and that the attempts at camouflage have been so unsuccessful. There is a lot of attaching and detaching involved in both arriving and departing. Anything detached upon arrival must be re-attached upon departure, and vice-versa. These things are too many, and the execution of them too complicated, for a first-time visitor to really comprehend.

Often a rig would pull in, and a couple of people would jump out to do all that detaching and attaching. Then they would disappear into their rig, and not be seen again for days. Lights would go on in the evenings, and off again in the mornings, but nary a living soul could be spotted. (I was assured that things are much more communal in warmer weather.) These people evidently do not have dogs. It fascinated me to think what they might be doing in there, hour after hour. But I was a visitor, and curious about all kinds of activities that are probably none of my business.

On the other hand, those who do have dogs are out at least twice a day, and are a very convivial lot. Sometimes four or five will clump up together for a pup-fest. All dogs are discussed according to their breeds (small white dogs are especially popular), their behaviors, and their barking frequency. The dog walkers are big on waving hello, and don’t mind being seen in the mornings, out unashamedly in their pajamas and slippers, carrying the obligatory plastic bags. My impression was that, as a group, RVers, in their fluid and ever-changing communities, are often more cordial and responsible neighbors to one another than are some in my absolutely stationary one.

There was much to learn: the difference between the “grey water” and “black water” tanks, and the requirements for the disposal of the contents of each. How to measure how much is left in your propane tanks by pouring hot water over a gauge on the exterior. The great advantage of a pull-through site–no backing up and maneuvering required. An entirely different meaning to the term “hook up” than the one currently in adolescent usage. The existence of “workcampers”–RVers who travel around and work temporarily, maintaining an RV park, in exchange for staying there. The fact that it’s perfectly reasonable to put your clean clothes next to the kitchen sink when you’re getting ready to take a shower. The fact that it’s possible to have a very full life with a daily infusion of mail, bills, and catalogs arriving at your door. And the amazing realization that exactly four plates, four cups, and four glasses, are all the dishware any two people ever really need.

Obviously, I was having a wonderful holiday with a dear friend, and so was only tangentially involved with some of the “real life” stuff that must inevitably be handled: haircuts, doctor’s appointments, dog grooming, truck repair, family responsibilities, itineraries, banking, and so on. But, with the ability to be clear about what you need (Bets has long been incredibly good at that), and with a cell phone, a laptop, and the absolute confidence that there are good and capable people everywhere, those things get handled.

I began to question the point of all the “stuff” we have at home in Connecticut. And, “coincidentally” enough, my husband had just ordered a dumpster (every woman’s secret desire, no matter what else you might hear), and had begun cleaning out the basement before I left. When I got home, I found he was also reading a book called “Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui.” (And this is a man who has been absolutely fact-driven, as long as I have known and loved him.) Evidently, the Universe will have Her way with all of us, in Her own good time…

So I came back to Connecticut, and Bets headed down to Reno, to work full-time until the election with OFA, helping get out the vote. Guess that makes her a “workcamper” for Obama. Yay!

We won’t all make exactly the same kind of journey she’s making, but we can sure as hell get ourselves in the move, each in our own way, to live our lives exactly as we believe they are meant to be lived. And, while were at it, let’s put the pedal to the metal, and move FORWARD!

The celestial clock ticks ever onward, and we’re all on some highway or another.

Carol

Sometimes the Elephant IS the Room

“Scared/Sacred… Just move a few letters, and it all makes sense…”

That came to me from somewhere. Is it really that simple? It might be. This is where I’m starting: Not really knowing, but doing, anyway. Moving around the A, the Alpha, the beginning. And, right now, that’s all I know.

This blog began its birthing at the Blackwell Island RV Resort in northern Idaho – a long way from my home base in Connecticut – in mid-October, 2012. But its gestation period has been a long one, borne along by the urging of loved ones, and by my finally getting tired of my own excuses for not doing it. Those excuses have been many; some of them I’m sure you’d recognize. I’m good at finding or creating excuses for not doing all kinds of things. All those excuses are still quite near, looking over my shoulder, hoping they still mean something. They no longer do, and that makes all the difference.

So far, so good.

This is the beginning of this blog, but it is far from the beginning of my lifelong journey from being “scared” to knowing the “sacred.” Now that journey has brought me to this vast internet of unknown and untried opportunities, skills, possibilities, challenges, and whatever else might be out here… Of course, I’ve dabbled around in it a bit for years, but this is different. And it’s a little scary.

It’s also very much sacred. It’s my belief that we humans are charged with experiencing and sharing with each other at least two very important things: Community, and communication. Celebration and concern. Our parties, and our souls. This is the path of Spirit… On the web, as everywhere else.

I’m taking what I like to think of as the “Star Trek Approach” to blogging: “…to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where [only several million other bloggers have] gone before…”

A few things you may expect to find here as time goes by: more drawings (mine); photographs (also mine); demons and little monsters (mine – and maybe yours); opinions about everything from politics to spirituality and morality to being a woman to growing older to loving oneself and others (not only my opinions here, but those of others who move me, as well); travel stories; some funny stuff; links and books and other blogs I like, and hope you will, too; and whatever else may crop up as this blog gets its own life going.

Let’s see what happens – that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Carol