A very comforting state of being.
I am buffered by thousands of miles from violence; I am not near any major city.
I have all the connivances that any major city has;
although I must give or take on the quality of our food services.
Major interruptions of any kind are rare in this small community.
Unlike our communal days messages move rather quickly via the media
(TV, radio, the Internet, telephones) and word of mouth.
I may have picked all the tomatoes this year; a frost may come as soon as Sunday.
The watermelon vines are all dried up. The melons still out there seem fine.
I was thinking about the communes I was at and about how each person worked.
I was a poor person when I entered the communes and
gave up all my ties to earning any money out side of these communes.
I had left the capitalistic state of mind and only returned to it when I had few options left almost a year later.
I never thought of this before but the folks that owned the property at
Tolstoy and Morningstar had to live in the capitalistic state of mind all the time that I was there.
I had given every penny that I had to those communes.
I now understand that a lot of those folks had other income to fall back on.
It was easy for me to understand poverty and to
understand the sharing of goods since I was without a cent for most of that year.
Silently the day moves forward, I would rather write than work;
it seems that I should eventually learn a lot more about how to write and
understand this language that we think in.
But no, this mind does not work that way, there is no huge vault of information to dip into,
there is no gathering of remembered resources to fall back on.
The only thing that I have to work with is this daily reality that I see.
I sometimes wish I had Laurelís mind as I write.
She has the technical ability to put words into there proper place and
to correctly phrase our daily thoughts.
Silence, the machinery has stopped functioning.
The electricity that runs like blood through this home has stopped moving.
Tonight the liberals will hear what they want to here and the
conservative right side will here what they want to hear.
I bet I could place a red ball on the liberal side lectern and a blue ball on the conservative lectern and
have silence for ninety minutes, only silence.
Then after the 90 minutes are up the winds of speech would tell us what those balls meant
in our relationship with Iraq, Osama bin Laden and the growth of our nation.
Silence a breeze is blowing and the sky is blue,
I see orange leaves away off in the distance.
Our cat jumps up into the open window.
There is a smell of cooking tomatoes on the stove. A cool breeze a waves a flag in the wind.
If the violence in the world was not imbedded in the minds of human beings then
we could just pluck the violence out and bury it under our flower beds.
What will it take to move the violence out of their minds?
At present I know that we are trying to burn it down, kill it down,
buy it down, shit kick it down without a hint of progress.
Everyone has chosen sides and drawn their line in the sand.
No one has built a bridge that both sides can walk across.
Where have I compromised my position when it comes to other human beings that
think different or view the same thought in a different manner?
I know we try to see our colors by marking them so even though we see a different color by its mark
it means that we are talking about the same thing no matter what language we speak.
Our language marks some meanings but is rather vague in some other areas.
One, an inch, a meter and I assume that zero as being placed there at the end of our finger or at the end of a stick/pointer.
I have not learned to place our words in there proper places, that takes memory, a commodity that I really lack.
The silence is broken by the flow of electricity through this home.
So why does everyone mark god differently?
The winds of spin now say that Bush looked haggard and ill at ease at the debate because
he works so hard in defending our country
The capitalistic state of mind has not been on my mind
at since leaving Morningstar.
It is true that I was working to help our country and my soul/being.
Work is what removes the demons from the fractured mind.
Money has no value to me it is only used to barter by Laurel and all her pleasures.
The money that I earned is placed in deposit for her to spend.
I am lucky to share in her pleasures. I have always wished that her choice had been Morningstar.
Peace is always on my mind no matter the state of my wealth or poverty.
A very comforting state of being.
Words & Graphics by Tomas