With only a few days until the Presidential Election I couldn't be more excited! Not so much because there is a particular candidate that I'm on fire for, but just to see that it's over, will be such a relief. Even though there's no way I'd vote for McCain and Palin,  just as the election between Kerry and Bush, I'm not that excited about Obama. Oh, he says a lot of wonderful things. I'm just such a cynic. In such a backwards society where pasteurized cow's milk is held in higher esteem than a mother's breast milk, the belief that food is better the way nature made it is a crunchy "new-age" idea, where ideals and intolerance are put before love as priority, that babies being electively cut from their mother's womb is the way to go, I have a hard time believing that the change I want to see in the world will be brought about through any political machine or legislation. More difficult for me is the belief that in a society so backwards, we would choose a candidate that a majority of people seem to like, and he would be one to turn this nation in the proper direction.

I think people must be sick, fed up, and physically hurting to acknowledge that true change is necessary, at least that's been my personal experience and what I see reflected on a national level. People are irritated with the mess Bush has created, but let's face it...we still have it better than most other nations! A part of me would like to see the system crumble. I'm not sure what's to come. My soul aches for change, my heart screams for peace amongst all nations, but my mind reels back through history, through nature, and sees that very rarely has there been peace for humankind, even without religion, there will be intolerance of one sort or another. Look at the Jacobins of the French Revolution. This is only one incidence of intolerance without religion. I try not to delve too deep in conversation about these things, the things I know or "believe", because I feel it's just creating more friction and opens the door for arguments. When what I feel NOW needs to happen is that people put down their defenses and say "you know what? We disagree. But do we both agree that we should be clothed, fed, given a safe and warm place to sleep at the end of the day?"

I realize it's not the responsibility of one hard working human to care for another that refuses to lift a finger. How many people do you know who don't work hard? One thing I've noticed is that the people who aren't working hard seem to be the ones who know others who don't work hard. These people, those who are making it on one job and making it well, vacationing and with little debt,  they are the ones propagating the false belief that to give breaks to the poor or have a welfare system would be robbing them and, of course, YOU, of  your hard earned cash. Uh, HELLOOOOO??? Has anyone that says this looked at our war budget? Whose pockets does this war make fat? Hmm, the same people saying that we could all lose out due to "Marxist, Socialist" views.  But let's look at the complexity of the situation. What about the people who can't work due to physical disability? What of the people who work two jobs but still can't heat their homes and drive to work because living wages are a thing of the past? What of the people who were born into poverty and despite their best efforts have only done a bit better for themselves.What about those who've lost it all due to bad choices of large corporations? Last on my list but not even close to the vast amount of variables, what about the mother's and father's that bought college degrees, worked and slaved for the grade because they were told that this would open their oppurtunities in the land of the free? But in the end they are saddled with college loans and debts too tremendous to pay their way out? 

I was told by a friend that she could not support Obama because of his socialist views. Personally I think people like to say words that end in ist or ism, it makes them feel well read. Like they're really paying attention. Damnit!!!! If you're paying attention you will know that these are just words. We have come to believe that these words are the vocabulary that only ONE type of person ascribes to, words that the people we don't like or shouldn't like because they are different than us, use to describe their ideals, their personal politics and beliefs. It's a lie! A lie perpetuated by our media, our government, our parents, and ourselves! We are one nation, A UNIVERSE, ONE SONG. You are one note, your children the string section carefully being plucked and bowed, our ancestors, a haunting accompaniment from the wind section. Our struggles are the startling crescendo of the tympani that awaken us to the new melodies. I've been hearing this song my whole life and wondering how it is that I can make the song more beautiful. What is it that I can do to create a ballad that can be played eternally? What can I do to serenade the earth and its inhabitants? What will be our refrain?

We all have different musical preferences and this is where the turmoil begins. We are so quick to not like another genre, to look down our noses at the cultures and expressions of people different than ourselves.  But it stops for me when it comes down to depriving people of their health, their choices, their food, or their ability to just smile. 

I haven't written for a while. I'm sick of the conversations, the fighting, the snippets of fact and fiction offered on both sides. I'm tired. I'm melancholy. I cry...A LOT. I hide from the people I love and keep most of my thoughts to myself. I can't fight anymore. All around me I see the failed careers, marriages, and in myself, I see the inability to change the things I dislike most about myself...this sadness that threatens to swallow me whole. I see that the failure starts within and our nation suffers. I've struggled and continue to struggle to find the answers. This election always reminds me of the complexity of our lives, of each life. There is a history for the universe, for ourselves, and memories are only so capacious. Things become rewritten and reworked by life's new experiences so there's no way to trace things back to their origin. I keep telling myself, look to God, give it over to Him, It, Her, Whatever YOU call it. But it doesn't help. I search my Bible for clues. I read about Illuminati, Christianity, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhist, any sacred texts,  for something I'm missing, for something that will bring enlightenment and peace into my life so that I can ignore that lack of control I have on the brutal cadence at which the world's song has been playing out. So far, I've found nothing. The only conclusion I've come to is that we all have to give up. We give up the idea of making others think like us. We give up the idea that every personal need is worth a fight. We give up the idea that our I is more important than He, she, them, or it. We live our life in service to one another. I realize it sounds Biblical, because it is in many ways! People are afraid of that. Something sounding too biblical. But folks, any idea, any fundamental belief, any lifestyle, becomes a religion of its own.

So here I am back at the beginning. Not knowing how to let people know that I love them, and YES, I do have my own beliefs, but they are included. I believe we can make this work.  I can hope for it. I find extreme comfort and even happiness with my children. When I feel like a failure on all other fronts I listen to them and watch them for my cues. It's OK to feel like writhing on the floor one second and then the next, to find abundant hilarity in a word or feeling. So, when I don't write here, it's not because I've given up or don't love to write. It's because I can't possibly understand what's happening around me or within me. I can't articulate the amount of chaos and animosity in the world when the wave overtakes me. I have so many things to say, to write, to share, but by the end of the day I'm so exhausted, so anxious, so overwhelmed that I leave the thoughts to stew. Some bloggers tie everything up with a pretty bow. The most I can hope for here is to pull the string and not have it knot up into a labyrinthine mess on your screen. On a lighter note, I did make a costume for my son this year. He wanted to be a cheetah. You wouldn't believe the difficulty finding a true cheetah pattern. They all say cheetah, but NONE in the fabric store actually were. They were jaguar or leopard. So after a special order of fabric and four days of sporatic and poorly executed stitching the outcome was to his liking, which is all I can ask for. Ember wore the devil costume Nova wore when he was three. Ayda picked her teddy bear costume quite a while ago. Her favorite book is The Teddy Bear's Picnic  by, who else? Jerry Garcia! Now that's a girl after my own heart.