Adventures of a Flower Child

Comics, Satire and the Decline of Western Civilization

2014-04-07T16:35:00.000-07:00

Before the days of single issue, one frame memes, there were comics! Comics, where the real questions
existence, the eternal struggle of the nature of duality and other awkward problems can be presented in a user friendly, safe (no one will judge you) format. You will be gently coaxed into understanding problems for which really smart* people have all the answers, so the rest of us need not trouble our pretty little heads. And how little trouble it is indeed for our pretty little heads. Thank goodness too, I am concerned with the preservation of my P.L.H.
Also don't forget Mad Magazine, and it's contribution to society-raising an entire generation who understands satire! In case you haven't noticed there are some folks who are painfully satire deficient. They can be recognized by their outraged responses to Onion and Borowitz report articles. Look out for them. If you meet one, immediately apply Mad Magazine to the face. You'll be doing us all a favor. It's not their fault that their parents were humorless comic-deniers. They deserve a shot at understanding humor, don't you think?
Another relevant tool that is available for anyone who is concerned about their lack of cultural knowledge, is the Classics Comics series. While these are lengthy, far more so than the 2-6 frame comic strip, the additional effort is worth your own personal development. If you can't get through the entire classic, fear not, there is a good chance that as long as the classic made it into movie or tv form, Mad Magazine will likely have parodied it at some point in time. Can't make it through Moby Dick? Mad offers Morbid Dick. You'll get the general gist of the story and you too can feel smart and cultured. Yay!

Some links:

http://www.madmagazine.com/
http://existentialcomics.com/comic/23
http://io9.com/all-of-shakespeares-plays-converted-to-3-panel-webcom-1559458973?fb_action_ids=693304114042166&fb_action_types=og.likes

Once you have completed this list, you may now safely refer to the Onion, Borowitz and other satirists secure in knowing that you will get the joke! Now get reading!

2014, Nanakoosa's Place/Adventures of a Flower Child

The Flower Child Legacy?

2014-02-20T00:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if at some not yet revealed time, a time with not yet established cultural rules and mores, if someone somewhere might encounter my journals, or my blogs posts or anything else I have written.
I wonder what they will think of it. What will they do with it? Will it arouse curiosity about the day to day life of a woman in the 20th and early 21st century? Will they toss it aside as useless clutter, or will they open a page, interact with a statement or paragraph and maybe they will slip it into a pocket of whatever futuristic gear they are wearing.
Beyond that the finder may forget about the book stashed n their pocket until while searching in frustration for a cigarette (or some other equivalent addiction) will grab the book, give it a puzzled or annoyed look before tossing it aside.
Or maybe they will scurry home and by the privacy of whatever light source illuminates the pages, she or he sits cross-legged on a bed, munching absentmindedly at a sandwich (or whatever manner of food source they eat in the future) and devouring my words.
"It's so retro" she'll say, bright eyes shining with persuasion and guile. Her listener will eventually, or quickly, relent and agree to read it as well.
Suddenly I'm an iconic voice from the past, an Anne Frank or Victor Frankl, only with much less severe tragedy.
How will my hardships, my 'tragedy', rate in their era? Will they be living in a militarily controlled world plagued by bloodthirsty gangs running wild in the streets? Will there be water shortages, power blackouts and curfews? Or will we finally learn to live together, to respect one another. If we cannot at least respect and accept each other will we have devised a way to maintain separate
living spaces, each with their own rules in effect so long as no one group encroaches upon or violates the safety and integrity of another group or tribe.
Either way, will anyone out there feel drawn in, and connected to, the personal story of a 20th century woman who was always just a little different than all the other kids.
artwork courtesy of Elly Hazard

Family Vacations in the Flower Child Era

2013-06-29T22:35:00.000-07:00

In the 1960's gas was cheap, although you'd never know it by listening to my Dad. Camping supplies could be purchased from the local Army Navy surplus for next to nothing and campsite fees were a few bucks a night. Dad was a teacher at University and in those days he rarely taught summer school which meant the entire family, even the grownups, shared in that giddy unfettered dizzying state of freedom that engulfed us as we spilled forth from the metal and tempered glass doors of the public school we attended that year. We were, all of us, the entire family, free as fireflies once that final bell signaled the end of the day.

For a couple of years Dad tended to relocate between spring and fall semesters, timed to take place in midsummer, allowing at least a month between vacating the old place and settling into the next. It wasn't until many years later that much in the same way you catch a punch line long after the joke has been delivered, years later I figured this out. "Oh now I get it" slapping myself in the forehead, "this gave a rent free period of time right smack in the middle of summer". Very clever I observed with the knowing perspective and wisdom of the parent I had now become. This happens when you become a parent, the little tricks, slight of hand and trade secrets are revealed once you have acquired the Parental spidey sense to decode the clues. Because I was a precocious and, more importantly, nosy child, I picked up on part of the scheme even back then.

When my grade school Harriet the Spy mind made this astute and relevant observation I initially thought maybe it was because the old man couldn't afford to pay rent that month due to having the summer off work. I deduced that our gypsy vagabond lifestyle was really a thinly disguised episode of homelessness. It wasn't until stage 2 adult revelation that I realized that even with the low cost of trailer trash style travel we probably weren't actually saving any money. I think Dad ditched the apartment so we could afford to pull up stakes and indulge in our wanderlust, not the other way around.

Sometimes I used to envy the younger kids, the kids from his subsequent (and last) marriage. They were the ones who got him when he was settled. I envied that they had a stable address, went to the same school district for all 12 years. They had the benefit of music lessons, consistent friendships and financial security. When they traveled it was to big cities like New York or New Orleans or even overseas to England. And they frequently made the journey by plane or train, not crammed into the cookie crumb covered cracked vinyl back seat of a car whose summer trip was bound to be its swan song. On top of all that, they had an intact family, both parents, together in the same house. wow.

But the grass is always just a little greener when we are peering trough the fence When we look through the fence, you see, it is likely we are squinting one eye through a small knot hole This offers a pretty limited view. And you can be sure that who ever is peering back at us from their side of the knot hole, is probably seeing the same kind of out-of-context sunlit perfect little patch of oh so green grass.

On our side of the fence we'd load up the car with blankets, camping equipment, a box of dry goods, a cooler of perishable food, two sets of clothes for each kid (you brought what you could fit in a pillowcase), towels suntan lotion, fishing gear, yard toys...you get the drift. I have no idea how we managed to fit it all in and on whatever vehicle we were using at the time. I do know that towels often doubled as pillows or blankets and that antennas and wing mirrors can be used as hooks for drying wet swim suits. I also know that trail mix, dried fruit and certain brands of chocolate chip cookies can withstand atmospheric and temperature changes remaining edible for weeks. You no longer argue over what radio station to listen to once you hit mid Pennsylvania, because there is only one station (if you're lucky) and after enough hours in the car line even country western becomes tolerable. I know how to pee while squatting in any environment and quickly too. The license plate game and the alphabet game cycle through being fun, to being ok to intolerable and back to ok again, and semis were the best target for the licence game cause in those days truckers would be required to have plates from any state they regularly traveled through. Speaking of trucks, truck stops are one of the most delightful and decadent roadside attraction and they are worth staying awake for because if you are awake Dad will let you come in there with him when he goes in to pee. Dad would drive though the night to get us to our next destination. Night time was quiet. All us kids were sleeping, slouched against one another in a coppertoned sticky sweaty heap in the backseat, the highway traffic was light and no one would argue about the radio station. Once we arrived at the destination the first order of business was to set up the tent so Dad could climb inside and crash for a few hours. The second order of business was that whatever the second order of business was it needed to be done quietly enough to Not Wake Dad. Whatever happened beyond that was in the hands of my Stepmom, whose hands like a sculptor bringing life to a lump of clay, managed to create an outdoor homestead from the contents of the boxes, pillowcases and coolers. I like to think that we were helpful, but in retrospect the task of collecting firewood was clearly designed to make us wander off and disappear in the woods. "Don't bother looking close to camp, that stuff has all been used up by the people who were here before...you have to go back a ways" And off into the woods the adventures began and carried on for the remainder of the summer like treasure hunt or a fairy tale that we crafted as we lived it, barefoot, happy and free.

Intuitive Activism

2013-03-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

When I share information on social media it is because I am expressing opinions and/or facts regarding something about which I feel passionate. I try to avoid falling into the left-right paradigm and I attempt to educate myself about matters that concern us all as human beings who, like it or not, share this space we call Earth. We all know that research and the results that follow can be manipulated to support an argument for either side of an issue. As such I prefer to read and hear the actual stories and experiences of people who have been affected directly by policies and business practices that come to our attention. For example I oppose Monsanto's policies and actions not because some organization told me to, not because of a study or two that I read, but because I know that by upsetting the balance of our planet we set in action a chain reaction of events whose outcome we cannot control or predict. The Earth is an interconnected web of life forms all which are interdependent on one another, and that includes us. We have already done so much damage to our ecosystem that we cannot afford to condone policies that will continue to destroy the fabric of life.

"The notion that non-human life forms are of lesser importance is part of the Judeo-Christian Capitalist paradigm and therefore deserves to be challenged."

This is a statement that I presented to a group of people that likes to address problems in terms of economic theories, class structure and numerous 'isms'. I phrased my comment in this way in an attempt to relate to individuals in their own language so to speak. I felt it was necessary to do so because I have witnessed the dismissive attitude that erupts when we start talking about the environment or about concepts like human emotion and spiritual well being; you know those things that are not scientifically quantifiable. I did it not because I am ashamed of being labeled as an environmentalist, or even an idealist but because I truly wanted to engage people in a dialog about our relationship with Earth and her non-human inhabitants. Two days later I have not received any response, nothing. Did I really venture that far outside the comfort zone of concrete conceptualization?

Funny isn't it that we all who are so fed up with a system that places money and political power before human need would be so obsessed with economics and politics. I mean if our goal is to truly break free from the invented reality that is so well maintained by the corporate owned media then why aren't we looking elsewhere for answers? If you were trapped in a well would you look up at the light to devise a way to escape or would you sit on the floor counting pebbles?

Meanwhile, in other circles there is a growing focus on spiritual understanding and expansion of consciousness. 2012 has come and gone and the world didn't end but the time for a new reality is here. There is wisdom and hope to be found in many of these circles and as someone who always followed my inner voice I am comfortable with exploring myriad possibilities of human potential and consciousness. However I sometimes wonder if some of these people are aware of what's going on here in 3-D reality. I can appreciate the notion of not pouring one's energy into negativity, but I also am not okay with ignoring societies problems.

Fortunately I have finally encountered a few sources who know as I do that the spiritual and the political are, like everything, ultimately interconnected. The words spiritual and political feel too limiting here, perhaps I could put it this way; the quest for enlightenment and esoteric understanding and the quest for social justice are not separate journeys. In fact they are perhaps mutually inter-dependent. Naturally we all chose the path we travel in our quest and we are all free to choose a different path at any time. I know I have taken some detours but recently I'm finding that my detours always seem to lead me back home to my truth, to my most fundamental understanding of this life's lesson plan. In my version of the truth, because we all have our own versions you know, there is no separation between the intuitive and the scientific. I have tried to apply myself effectively in the world of social activism without the accessing the spiritual, or intuitive, because I felt awkward. I felt that the people I was relating to wouldn't understand that part of me and therefore would dismiss anything I had to offer because of it. They would throw out the baby with the bathwater. I now realize that, as my Mother used to say "If they are your true friends, they will accept your values even if they don't completely agree". I decided quite some time ago that I was no longer going to sacrifice my personal values and beliefs for the sake of maintaining some kind of false harmony in my personal relationships; why would my social and civic relationships demand even more of me than that? I need to be fully present in my entire being with all that is true and dear to me in order to contribute authentically and effectively in these groups. If that means I may speak out on behalf of the rights of butterflies and nature spirits along with the rights of the two legged beings that live among them, then that's how it will be. If people decide not to work with me because of that, then they are free to choose another path. I'll be on the one with the rainbows and butterflies.

How Tommy Tippy Blew My Mind

2013-02-11T11:00:00.000-08:00

Hello Readers, I hope today finds you well. Due to my political burnout which I addressed in my last post I am going to spending more time recounting my Hippie Childhood Memoirs. I hope you enjoy them, and if not well. turn on , tune on and drop out....Peace.

How Tommy Tippee Blew My Mind

Most baby boomers will remember Tommy Tippee cups. They were a brand of training cup that were weighted on the bottom to avoid spillage, by tipping, and they came with a lid with a sippy spout. At age 2 or 3 I no longer needed a training cup but even as a child I was sentimental about favorite things and had a difficult time letting go. I continued to use my Tommy Tippee cup without the lid, for at least a year or two after becoming adept at drinking out of a regular cup (or as adept as I ever would be)

Tommy Tippee cups featured a picture of their name sake on the side of the cup. As long as you were right handed, as were all ‘normal’ children of the 1950’s and 60’s, the picture faced you as you lifted your cup to drink. The picture was of Tommy himself, a cute little bear, proficiently sipping with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Chin raised, eyes narrowed he seemed to beam proudly as if to say ‘good job with the big girl/boy cup!’ reinforcing our recovery from nipple dependency.

One day as I was sitting at the table drinking from my cup I stared at the smiling face of T.T. and realized that the cup he was holding was the same as mine. This meant his cup also had the same milk sipping Tommy Tippee picture. And in that picture was yet another picture and in that picture another and on and on…Tommy Tippees forever.

I called my Mom into the room to share my discovery.

"Mom” I asked, “how many of them are there?”

"Well there’s one cup and one picture”

“But no there’s a picture in the picture and a picture in that picture and how many more?”

“Well it’s probably infinite” my Mom replied casually

“What’s infinite?”

“It means there’s no end, it goes on forever, you know like space”. She said this as if it was something I already understood and for a moment I was wondering if I’d missed something somewhere.

“What do you mean? The stars have to end somewhere?” For some reason I imagined a large wall somewhere in space.

My Mother, being a clever teacher, replied with another question, “But what would come after that?”

“I dunno, more space?” I was reaching here, hoping for the right answer, for as good a teacher as she was I was prepared to match her skills by being a good student. Secretly in my imagination I pictured something like the Wizard of Oz dwelling behind that great space curtain.

“Exactly! More space on and on forever”

I would have preferred the Wizard of Oz answer. I began to cry. “But it can’t just go on forever there’s got to be something else”

“We really don’t know Jenny, that’s all we know” I could see my Mother starting to become slightly impatient. She had been baking bread in the other room and now seconds later she was trying to explain an uncomprehendable concept to a child who was barely into the concrete operations phase of development.

I don’t remember where the conversation went after that, I seem to recall helping my mom bake bread which meant I got to pull off a small piece of dough, mold it into whatever shape I chose and bake it in the oven. Baking bread is a great grounding method when one’s mind begins to spiral into the realm of fear and panic.

Regardless of whether that was indeed the outcome or if I was simply told to finish eating lunch and do whatever it was I did in those days, I do know that in the following weeks and months I spent many a night lying awake in bed staring out my window at the stars overhead wondering how far infinity is. And why no one seemed to have a reasonable answer.

Political Burnout

2013-01-11T21:19:00.001-08:00

My most recent facebook status: 'watching the news makes my head want to explode'. My only New Years resolution is to balance the information I take in with images of things that make me happy. Kittens, wildlife, tiny houses, cartoons, faeries, things like that. Images that can transport my mind to a kinder happier place than the world that is shown on television, online and in the news. I feel like if I see one more dead child as the result of a drone attack or a school shooting, or hear one more story about a woman being brutally raped or think about the daily mass destruction of our environment, the planet that sustains our life, I will simply fall into a spiral of despair and give up entirely. I don't know what that would look like, what form of behavior it would take, to give up entirely but I don't think I want to find out either.

A lot of activists I've come to know over the past year or two have become rather withdrawn in recent months. Many of them describe feeling burnt out and I don't blame them. It's a tough and often thankless task. There are rarely immediate results and there are no medals or awards, no pay no fringe benefits. For every victory a new issue seems to come along and settle itself comfortably in the space left behind by the last problem. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer and war is endless. And to make matters worse there is a huge segment of the population who has no clue as to what's going on and wonders why people like me bother to walk around chanting carrying signs and canvassing when there is no visible problem to their eyes. There is nothing like the despair one feels when you have spent an entire day in crummy weather walking the streets trying to raise some awareness only to come home turn on the tv and see the news briefly describe a 'handful of college students protesting' when you know damn well there were over 500 people representative of the full spectrum of the American demographic. That pit in your stomach grows even deeper when you realize the next news story is a good 5 minutes dedicated to a sausage recipe.

After as many decades as I have spent on this planet I am intimately familiar with the cycles of enthusiasm, despair and burnout and I have learned to recognize the signs of impending surrender. That is when it is time to let go of strict adherence to political correctness and symbolic sacrifice. There is no room for perfectionism in an imperfect world.

We don't have to have all the answers, we don't have to know intimate details of every horror that is being perpetrated around the world on any given day. Doing this only makes our task seem insurmountable and strips away any sense of power.

Some days you just need a break. You need to laugh. I would say these things are needed every day, in frequent doses. It does not mean you bury your head in the sand and turn your back on your values and ideals. Those will always be there when you are ready to face them. Adding a little fun, or humor or fantasy to life provides the strength and life force to be able to utilize your energy when and where it is needed.

Doomsday...again?

2012-12-18T20:30:00.000-08:00

December 21, 2012...doomsday? Or the Great Awakening? Or maybe just another day in the midst of an era of rapidly evolving spiritual and technological advancement.
After all my generation has already survived a few apocalyptic close calls. Heck we grew up in the Cold War, when every Friday felt like a close call as we practiced civil defense drills, hiding under our desks with hands over our heads in preparation for the big one.
I was 4 years old when President Kennedy was assassinated and for a four year old who sees the president as one of a Holy Trinity, along with Santa Claus and God, it certainly felt like a shadow of destruction was looming near.
When Ronald Reagan was elected president there were some of us who thought that signaled the beginning of nuclear war; he even joked about it saying 'we will begin bombing in five minutes'.
Then there was the Harmonic Convergence of 1987, which most New Agey folks felt would usher in an era of great Peace and enlightenment. Nice thought, but since then it seems we've been busy looking under rocks and bringing out all the creepy stuff in order to make way, perhaps, for a Great Awakening.
I really don't claim to know the answers although I am entertained my the numerous theories floating around out there, even if some of them border on the realm of 'disturbing'.
What I do know is this, our technology has evolved at a mind boggling pace over the last 100 years or so. I remember my sitting with my grandfather watching one of the several rocket launches of the 1960's (this was always a big event in those days, even in school we'd get to have the television wheeled into the classroom so we could all count down 10,9,8...to 'we have lift off') My grandfather told me the story of the first car he remembered seeing. He was a child at the time, living in a small town in New York. The car was owned by a wealthy and eccentric woman who was eager to parade about the town square in her new toy. Apparently she hadn't bothered to learn how to drive..who would there be to teach her? So she circled around and around the town center, probably at about 5 mph. screaming that she didn't know how to make it stop. The townspeople were rather amused at her pride gone awry, but not entirely unsympathetic and ran chasing after her in order to try to figure out how to stop the car. Finally some men ran to the hardware store, bought some sturdy rope and created a barrier across the street in hopes of trapping the rogue vehicle. It slowed things down substantially until the car finally ran out of gas where it sat, the object of combined wonder and mistrust, until someone rigged up a team of horses to pull it away. Horses they understood, horses were reliable and cooperative, not so much with the 'horseless carriage'. I loved that story for so many reason, not the least of which being that the heroes of the day were horses, but on that particular day it took on a whole new level of meaning as I realized that in my Grandpas life he had seen humankind evolve from horses to moon landings. I realized how overwhelming it must have felt for him and how it probably enhanced the humor of the first car story in his mind.
Now in my own lifetime, I am seeing and using, devices that are not unlike what we saw as children on Star Trek (the original with William Shatner) and other futuristic sci-fi films. Not only am I using them I have become pretty well attached to them, although I hesitate to say I am dependent on them, that's a word I use selectively. Nevertheless they have become an integral part of my daily life, something I would only have dreamed of as a child.
Technology has opened doors that never existed 30 or 40 years ago. I can have an instant conversation with someone halfway around the world. I always call it time travel when I do this..because it is usually the next day for the person I'm chatting with. The Arab spring would not have been possible without the communication we have available at our fingertips. On the other hand neither would the sterile, frightening reality of drone warfare. Any development is only as ethical as those who make use of it.
I can only imagine, and there is some historical reference to support this, that the Renaissance and the appearance of the Gutenberg printing press, may have evoked some similar doomsday predictions. With any sweeping cultural change, especially that which opens doors of communication and new knowledge, there will be certain people who react in fear. Change can be scary, anything that shakes up our preconceived notions with new information, even if it promises a better life, also brings uncertainty. Sometimes it's easier to be comfortable in ignorance that disrupted by enlightenment.
So are we headed for doomsday or the golden age? Probably neither, but it does feel a bit like the human race is chasing the car around the town square trying to figure out how to slow it down until we figure out exactly how it all works.

© 2010-2012, Jennifer Hazard

The Lovely Crazy Quilt of Life

2012-11-24T11:28:00.000-08:00

I've recently returned for a much needed 'news break'. Of course for me a news break isn't an absolute avoidance of all news, it's really more like a news diet. I still watch most of Democracy Now in the morning and I'll catch some clips on my social media newsfeeds. My break involves not responding to the feeds, not engaging in discussion or argument with other people and generally practicing an aware detachment from the information. It also involved spending more time on pages featuring animals, gardening and tiny houses. This diet is healthy for me personally in that it prompts me to focus on dreams, visions and solutions; the stuff that hope is made of. Without hope I can become incredibly frustrated...and snarkey.

Now that I have re-framed my thinking into a much more peaceful state of mind I'm finding it difficult to return to my habit of throwing my two cents in at every opportunity presented by the incessant barrage of opinion I find online. I'm sure this has made a few people happy. Rather than reacting from my boiling gut of self righteous opinion, I am more inclined to observe and evaluate the information that is laid out before me like a crazy quilt of mismatched fabrics, stunning in it's entirety but if examined piece by piece the eye is drawn to areas that individually might cause a very different reaction. The crazy quilt in this sense is the prevailing agenda and generally agreed upon ideals and desires of those I identify as my peers. The individual scraps are the more complex questions that either cause us to refocus on the whole, or take a closer look at that funny bit that stands out. When we call attention to the odd scrap that doesn't quite fit the big pattern we are taking a risk, we risk becoming the odd bit of fabric ourselves, don't we?

The more reactions I see to recent events, the more I value my distance from any one group or culture, because I see people who I otherwise respect beginning to unquestioningly follow the patterns laid out before them. And I see them applying labels and categories to other individuals who may dare to call attention to the odd scraps. They often do this anticipating that the individual will follow the preconceived agenda that accompanies the title. When someone dares to speak their own mind, to express an original well thought out analysis of a unique issue through the lens of a unique set of eyes there tends to be a moment of silence and confusion. How is it that in our rebelling we fall into expected patterns of rebellion. Are these patterns just as destructive as the prior patterns of conformity within the status quo? Hell yes, they are!

I recently told someone that I no longer adhere to any 'isms' because I refuse to be pigeonholed...and besides I haven't found any 'ism' that speaks to the complexity that I, as a unique human being, embody. Even within the 'isms' there are subdivisions. Take feminism for example, there has been a great deal of discussion about the varied manifestations of feminism in this country. At their worst they have all proven to be deviously divisive, at their best they have forced us to look beyond our own personal perceptions to welcome a new scope of interpretation of what it means to be a Woman.

Things just aren't that simple, life is complex and messy and constantly evolving. Stagnant values may have the appearance of dedication and endurance, but in practice they get stuck in the mud, wheels spinning while the the real work that needs to be done keeps on piling up. Yes, we all have values and expectations and ideals and that is the fuel that, combined with passion, keeps us focused. There is a difference between focus and tunnel vision, however, and there needs to be room for healthy discussion, disagreement and compromise. If we decide another activist is coming from a certain theoretical perspective we run the risk of mentally running through the list of attributes we ascribe to that label so that we apply that scenario as predictive of his or her future behavior or motivations. It's really so much easier than actively listening to someone isn't it? Well yeah, it is...but the easy way out has never proven to be the successful way out. If it was we probably would have evolved to the point that I didn't need to be writing this.

A news break or disengagement from the political conversation, can be used as an opportunity to reflect on our own values, We can explore information about the things that matter to us, the things that inspire us and bring us hope. We return from our retreat with souvenirs and keepsakes that can be woven into the bigger pattern. Hopefully our sewing circle will welcome these contributions with an open mind and a trusting heart.

So next time you meet someone who disagrees with one of those fine points, those mismatched patches in the crazy quilt of ideology, take a moment to examine how they stitched those bits together. Get to know a bit about their history, their thoughts and feelings, their personal life circumstances. See the beauty in each sample of fabric that contributes the the strength and durability of the whole.

A Year in Occupy and To The Future

2012-10-23T09:37:00.002-07:00

Anniversaries are like rest stops on life's journey. They create a moment in time that feels sheltered and safe, a place that is designed for quiet reflection and grounding. In this time-place we take stock of where we've been and how the past fits in with our plans for the future. In the past year of Occupy Everywhere all of us have cycled through many similar phases of progress, stagnation, questioning, brainstorming, reevaluating, renewal; on and forth and back again. It has been a year of experimentation and learning, all created by people who barely knew each other when this first came to be in the fall of 2011.

Contrary to what our critics would have you believe have accomplished more than a few things. We have established a presence in our communities and we have created new relationships and allies. We have brought issues of injustice and the need for change to a broader audience. We have sparked interest and involvement in people who previously felt powerless.

For my part, in my hometown, we have spent endless hours of planning in a tornado of brainstorm, circling madly around a center of Hope. When we have accomplished clear action it is often with the support and collaboration of another group or coalition and those bonds have strengthened the entire community. On the downside there have been times when committees, collaboration and alliance building has put us at risk of becoming as bureaucratic and political as the system that we are supposedly rebelling against.

There have been nothing but good intentions fueling this past year, but good intentions will only carry one so far; according to some they employ you as the road crew on the highway to hell.

Now when I hear people stating that echoing the cry that "Occupy is Dead", I disagree. I think that Occupy will continue in much the same formula that is has for the past year and that process includes continual evolution. Occupy is not dead, but as we move forward we take the actions of this past year and sift through the memories, the relationships we have formed, the conflicts and the moments of glory not all of us have shaken out the same results.

In all the retrospect and examination a few key gems come to light that prompt some of us to reexamine where it is we stand.

The election is probably the most obvious disruptive factor. Anyone who has been through more than a few campaign seasons was able to see that coming. Occupy, in original declaration of intent, pledged to steer clear of political involvement or endorsement. I guess the temptation was just too much for some and although most have managed to keep their political contributions separate from their involvement in Occupy there has been, inevitably, some bleed through. And like mismatched blood types there is some incompatibility.

Another subject that gets a little prickly is the level of involvement with other organizations and more importantly the kind of organizations with which we choose to align. There is hesitancy on one hand to collaborate with organizations that are entrenched in the current system and may receive funding from establishment sources. There are partners who would offer support and solidarity but will not fully agree with the principles of consensus decision making or with respect for diversity of tactics.

Finally there are some people who have either been at this activism stuff for many years or those who may not have been but have taken the time to learn from the past and their mentors. These people who are, frankly, weary of discussing the same cause and effect topics; we are the proverbial choir to which is preached. We are not abandoning education and public discussion, but we are ready to build upon the life choices we have made for years in an attempt to bring about real and tangible social and cultural change.For younger people Occupy has been a training ground of sorts, a place to get their feet wet and feel some empowerment, many for the first time in their lives. To us older folks it provided some focus and a reawakening of the spirit to move forward knowing that someone will follow. If other groups have formed, with varying levels of independence of or interaction with, the existing Occupy groups all the better. Those decisions are not a rejection of Occupy but an expansion and for some people they offer opportunities for participation on a deeper and more inclusive level. The beauty of diversity is in respect, not blind conformity. If we work in separate groups and continue to support and respect other we are are probably going to be more functional, more focused and therefore more successful in creating real and lasting change.

In order for us to allow the natural process of re-formation and branching out we must be self aware enough to recognize that we have for the most part, been raised in a culture that values competition above cooperation. No matter how passionately we feel about our cause, how much we truly believe in solidarity, we have a lifetime of learned behavior lurking within. It happens to the best of us. The key is honesty, with ourselves and others, to be able to face ourselves and admit when ego and competitiveness threatens to whisper the lie that 'we can do it better' or 'we thought of it first' or whatever nonsense it wants us to believe. It is after all that kind of thinking that is part of the mindset that got us into all this trouble to begin with. It is only by challenging that mind set that we can truly embrace our ideas and solutions and move forward to create a world that is more peaceful and sustainable.

Like all good recovery, it begins within.

Peace,

Jenny

Achilles Stiletto, Sex and Feminsim

2012-10-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

On a chilly damp afternoon a handful of activists huddled in a small park pavilion to discuss Important Issues of the Day. The group was mixed by gender and race (although predominately white and majority male) and among the topics was the role of women in activism. As we often do we digressed into the larger subject of Feminism as it is perceived through the lens of each participant. "Feminism" as a topic is pretty broad subject, if you will pardon the pun, and the conversation was initially intended to pose the question of how to get more women involved in activism. In the process of brainstorming the conversation turned to examining potential barriers that exist which may prevent women from participating.
Ultimately these conversations frequently boil down to the same stuff, the different and sometimes conflicting views of what it means to be a feminist. It is both amusing and frustrating that most women I know agree that we all share the same basic desire and goal, to be treated equally and respectfully as co-creators of culture and society. It's the definition of what it means to be a "productive member of society" and the means by which this is accomplished that gets the whole movement gummed up. I believe it is our dualistic all or nothing thinking that gets in the way. That, and the most favored target of that kind of thinking-sex.
How is it that some women insist it is their right to dress "slutty" (and it is) and yet these same women look down their noses at their sisters in the sex trade? How is it that women, often those who are powerful advocates for workers rights, fail to take seriously the formation of worker managed unions in the sex trade? Why is it that a Woman's right to chose doesn't address the way we give birth when we chose to do so?
Sex and sexuality (including reproduction) is probably our most vulnerable place, our Achilles heel, or Achilles stiletto if you will. Personally at age 54 I no longer have a desire to dress provocatively, but when I was younger yes, I enjoyed playing dress up. I think there is far too much emphasis on how we dress and with whom or how often we have sex than on who we are in the remaining hours and days of our lives.
But it makes perfect sense in our culture that this is the ring in which the fight gets dirty. It is the place we as women are the most competitive, jealous and insecure. All the images of sexuality that are used to sell products are a training ground on the lessons of "how to get a man" which translates to how to 'win out' over the competition.
We are affected by these images from the time we are old enough to notice advertising, or catch a glimpse of Cosmo in the grocery store checkout line as our little girl hands reach innocently for the candy that is placed right next to the magazine rack. Daytime television is packed with hour after hour of 'real life paternity testing' and women physically fighting over who gets the winner of said test, while the men who have been cleared of parental responsibility jump, dance and gloat as the audience chants "whore, whore, whore". The winner gets the babydaddy, the loser the bastard child and is therefore somehow less desirable a woman and mother.
What kind of a society does that? The producers of these shows claim they are only giving the viewers what they want, as if they are providing some kind of public service.
Ok so these examples represent the commercialized lowest common denominator of society and most of us activists like to think we are above and beyond all that (even though I'm sure it seeps in on a subliminal level especially in the early formative years). I'm even more disturbed by what I hear coming from the so called sophisticated echelons of society. The academic world has never been the pinnacle of objectivity it claims to be and this is especially evident in Social and Cultural studies. Based on my experiences over 20 years ago and what I'm hearing from current students, professors of womens' studies are not immune to their own personal bias and no matter how subtle the delivery, they pass those biases onto their students. And then there is always the Flavor of the Month, the favored theoretical perspective, of any given era.
Thankfully, I couldn't tell you what it is this year. But I can tell you I have some concerns that it hasn't yet risen above that elitist, entitled framework that has produced most theories for...well forever most likely.
By the end of our conversation yesterday there seemed to be one uniting belief that we need to talk to one another openly and respectfully within a safe environment. This would be an environment where all former beliefs and preconceptions are left at the door, from Jerry Springer to Womens' Issues in Contemporary Society. In order to be safe we need to walk through that door with open hearts and minds, and with the knowledge that we are in the same ring fighting the same battle...and we are not the enemy.
2012, Jennifer Hazard

The Flower Child Elders

2012-09-03T00:40:00.000-07:00

There are moments of realization when one feels that time has slipped by on silent feet drawing a curtain in its wake; a veil that separates Then from Now.The passing of time that seemed to flow seamlessly along the paths of our lives becomes an entity in itself...time invisible yet substantive, it is a force that calls attention to the raw fact that the world around us changes in ways we may never have predicted. And along with those changes the perception and interpretation of reality is also evolved, adapted and shaped.This process is slow and subtle we may not catch on until one day an event or topic of conversation draws us to a situation where we must decide if our own perceptions have failed to evolve with the rest of the world.

Suddenly we find ourselves perched cautiously at the precipice of the dreaded Generation Gap. Even that phrase is outmoded, but a hangover from my past. I'm sure there are other, more polite and politically correct terms for the phenomenon just as I am sure there are some that are less flattering. In any case regardless of what you call it there is an awkward moment when you find yourself clutching a belief with one hand while the other reaches out testing the feel of a different perspective. The fabric may seem familiar but the texture is not, something is amiss and unfamiliar. Then you search your heart and mind for the proper formula that will allow a transmutation of beliefs and values one that will create a blend of what we knew and what we have learned.

Or we could, if we choose, dismiss the unfamiliar, refusing to integrate the fruits of time and human experience desperately clinging to The Way It Always Has Been Back In My Day.

In other words, we can perpetuate the timeless classic stereotype of stubborn and cranky old people. (some things don't change!) To realize, and admit, that upon examination this new fabric has it's merits does not mean we must sacrifice out dearly held beliefs, unless of course, common sense and evidence tells us otherwise. Probably one of the most significant bits of wisdom that can develop with age is that many things can be true at once. In other words the world is a lot more grey than black and white.

If older folks long for a so called simpler time, it's not that the time itself was more simple or the problems less complex, it's that our place within the context was more easily navigated. We played by, or rebelled against, the rules of the time. We did this by using the skills and strategies we learned, within the context of the time. It wasn't always easy, but it was familiar. Now as we have gone from board games, to Pong, to myriad online role playing games the get out of jail free card isn't much help. But the lessons we learned about sharing, taking turns, trading properties (and maybe even stashing some bills under the board like my brother used to do) can translate to problem solving that can be used in other applications.

In this time of what the media loves to label a youth driven culture of activism, there may be moments where we feel out of step, but we need not fall behind. There are enduring characteristics and similarities between now and the 60's and any other era of social unrest and reform. Ideas and strategies that have proven to be universally effective have endured and others have fallen by the wayside...things change and things remain the same, both things are true at once. If we as elders can apply our understanding of that timeless truth, if we remain loyal to the values that endure while we integrate the unfamiliar, we will gracefully navigate the so called generation gap. Our footprints trace the journey from past to present and future. The path of the flower child didn't begin in the 1960's, nor will it end in the 21st century. The Flower Child is an archetype, the Young at Heart who will become elders, but never grow old.

Make Love, Not War,

Peace,

Jenny

A Declaration of levity

2012-08-11T14:37:00.000-07:00

I've had it with activism. Really? you ask.

Look, things are really fucked up right now and most of us know it. Most of have a lot of nice ideas mostly concepts, few actual concrete plans, to make the world a better, cleaner, safer, more equal opportunity kind of place. This is great I love reading and listening to ideas, they give me hope. We also do a lot of complaining about the way things are. This has it's purpose too, it's what motivates us and others to action. It's one way we can help educate and inform people who also really care and want a better world but barely even know how fucked up it is (much less how it got that way)

I've been having a lot of flashbacky memories from the 60's lately, probably because there's something about this time-place that feels similar. Discontent, government and military secrets exposed, assassinations (although they have learned to pick less dramatic attention drawing targets now) groups of people organizing and protesting, demanding change of some sort or another. People are flocking to counter-culture groups (do they use that word anymore?) seeking a sense of community and belonging. So yeah we are replaying many of the old tunes, to use a turn of phrase.

If you read this blog regularly you know I've been wrestling with my own demons as to how to most effectively create change, hope and all those happy sunny Obama-isms (please do not confuse my use of Obama-isms with an endorsement of said President). I am tired of demon-wrestling. I am tired of thinking, strategics, meeting, protesting and petitioning. Most of all I am tired of debating with other people, who ultimately desire the same goals and outcomes, but fail to catch any tread because they are too busy talking. I'm glad they're talking, it's a good thing, but those of us who have been at this for a while have had those conversations, we don't need to rehash the same socio-political theories...we've seen how well they translate into real life (spoiler alert college students and young ones-don't waste too much time beyond gaining a general grasp, ok?)

From now on I'm going with my gut, I'm letting my intuition guide me, and goddamn it, if we're all going down in a blaze of glory, or conversely in a slow sucking journey into the depths of poverty and government control, I'm going out in style...my style. I'm gonna have fun. I'm gonna laugh and sing and dance and play in spite and defiance of the "Man" and in celebration of Myself and my Loved ones.

Let the revolution be a party!

Ageism, Racism and Fear-The Blockades to Progress

2012-07-17T13:42:00.000-07:00

I'm gong to go on a little rant, there are some things I need to get out of my system. And there are some things that desperately need to be heard.
Here we are in the most exciting, frightening and emotionally charged social-political atmosphere since the 60's. There is so much potential right now at this moment in history for true empowerment and justice...you can feel it in the air. All over the world people are taking to the streets employing diverse strategies to send their message to the ruling elite that we are pissed and we are not going to take any more. Of all these groups there are many who also dare to take their message a step further and say we are hopeful, we are creating a new future for ourselves and the generations to come.
Now I'm not the most patient person in the world, never have been...but I've been around for a little over a half a century and that in itself forces one to accept the truth that change happens slowly. It probably should happen slowly. Decisions made in the heat of passion, anger or frustration are generally not well planned and are often doomed to fail, we all know that. But the changes we see happening now are not the result of some new trend...they've been simmering and brewing in the cauldron of discontent for decades. Now, before the whole thing boils over it's time to take a look at the recipe.
Anger, ok we've got plenty of that, along with discontent, these are after all essential ingredients for change given the nature of human beings. Let's stir it up a little more....I'm looking for some unity and hope....hmmm maybe a little floating around but that anger is so congealed it can't quite blend in. Stir with a whisk...frothy slimy mixture and damn that anger isn't dissolving. What is wrong with this potion? Let me look at the book...uh oh "anger, when not properly blended may congeal to a substance known as mistrust". Crap. Now what? and how did this happen? who was watching the kettle?
One can argue whether social change follows a distinct formula or not, but I do think I can say that there are some things we have learned from our past mistakes; things that I hope we do not repeat.
Number one is not learning from past mistakes. History repeats itself only because we, people, allow it to do so. We do this by failing to review the past. We refuse to listen to our Elders, thinking that our times are different and so are we.

We all have to take responsibility for educating ourselves, asking questions, listening and utilizing critical thinking to make our own informed choices....and I think we really need to encourage other people to do this. As we (people my age) become The Elders we have a responsibility and the honor to share our experience and wisdom, even if only to admit our mistakes and analyze what we may have done differently. The Youth have certain things to offer us Elders as well. Times have changed. This generation has been raised with a very different set of skills, both technological and interpersonal, than my generation. I don't see a lot of effort in our movement (locally) to bring people together in multi-generational forums where we can exchange our knowledge and talents.

To do this takes time and effort, yes, but taking the quick and easy way out has never produced real sustainable results.

I see a lot of young people around here jumping on bandwagons without really "looking under the hood" to see what's driving the engine. I see a lot of us older people holding back, keeping our heads down and hoping for the best. We're driving our old classic bandwagons doggedly along ignoring the check engine light that's flashing before our eyes. Once in a while we all get together and talk shop, but so far there hasn't been a lot of follow through, and the community remains unstable.

And then there's the racial/ethnic division. Milwaukee is one of the most segregated cites in the country, and there is a lot of mistrust between all races. This has got to stop. We need to get past our overly sensitive political correctness and really get to know one another. This means open, honest and trusting dialogue. We can respect the effects of past injustice...hell worse than injustice, outright ethnic cleansing...without keeping a scorecard of who owes who or who suffered the worst. What we need to be asking is how do we prevent those kinds of atrocities from ever happening again. I think taking a look at the global community and seeing instances where this is still going on, usually well funded by US tax dollars might just be a unifying concept.

My point is that our personal histories, biases, injuries and personalities will bleed through into our communal contribution. They will inevitably cause conflict. Someone might get offended, even if no offense was meant. We have to talk it though, look honestly at where those feelings of injury or insensitivity are rooted. Are we able to have conversations respectfully? I think we are.
What do we have to offer to our community if we ourselves are unwilling to stand by our own values..or if we think we know our values, but fail to implement them in everyday action. Collectivism is challenging because it respects individual voices while also minding the best interests of the community (and this includes the environment, the non human species, the voiceless and invisible members of society) and this is unfamiliar territory for Americans. We have been raised in a society that praises and rewards rugged individualism and self determination. I'm saying that respect for the individual and collectivism are not mutually exclusive...they can co-exist, it just takes work, commitment and very honest self examination. But on both the personal and collective levels there is a real need for education, including the tough task of self examination, soul searching and ego busting in order for us, collectively, to make well informed decisions and actions and implement them in a way that creates real and sustainable change.
Thoughts?

Wake Up! Wake Up! Time to Rise and Shine!

2012-06-28T12:55:00.001-07:00

It has been nearly a month since my last post, written while I was still energized from the NATO protest in Chicago. As I re-read that post I remember feeling so hopeful that Occupy was heading in a positive direction. I believed that we were beginning to see beyond our own territories and boundaries into the lives of people who live thousands of miles away; people whose daily struggle is so much more difficult than our own. I was hoping that we in america were beginning to understand that, for those people, the consequences of corporate greed and corrupt politics are much more devastating than those we feel here at home.

Of course everything is relative and our losses, although seemingly benign in comparison, are still devastating.
Only 3 days after my last post we held a rally and street march here in Milwaukee on the heels of a recall attempt that failed leaving the infamous Scott Walker still in office, only now bolstered with and even more smug self assurance than before. All that aside, the rally was one of the most powerful I have attended. We refused to be set back by the electoral process (in which many of us have little faith to begin with)
We did not obtain a permit for this march and as we took to the streets we were immediately challenged by the police. On horseback, in cars, on foot and with motorcycles they attempted again and again to drive us back onto the sidewalk. And each time we resisted, ducking, dodging, running and back into the street. I and a few others carried a banner as we led the march. The banner became a symbol of the struggle for power and control of the street. As the police tried time and time again to wrestle it from our hands we pulled back in an ongoing game of tug o war that carried on throughout the march. I'm happy to say we arrived at our destination with the banner in hand, a little ripped and ragged from the battle but ours nevertheless.
The energy that day was electric, the sense of rebellion and determination as we marched was exhilarating and empowering. There were some who shouted obscenities at the police but for the most part we held no grudge, we were simply determined to do our job, just as they were to do theirs. It wasn't about the police, it was about our voices being heard. It was about visibility and making the statement that we are not going away, and it was about Civil Disobedience.
Unfortunately, there were some people present who either don't understand the definition of civil disobedience or they don't expect consequences for their actions. It was clear from the beginning of the march that those who chose not to be "disobedient" or risk arrest, could remain on the sidewalk where they were free to march without risk of arrest. The rest of us agreed we were willing to take that risk.
There were 5 arrests that day, not bad considering the number of people who chose to take the street. Those who were arrested, with one exception, were released the following day with municipal tickets for disorderly conduct. Par for the course, right?
I was astonished the following day to see demands for legal assistance for those who were thought to be "wrongfully arrested". And the complaints made by many that they were pushed, shoved or had a horse step on their foot; while the one person who was actually unjustly injured (by taking a baton to the eye for photographing an arrest) maintained quiet dignity.
Heated discussion ensued for the next several days, until finally some of the complainers began to see (I hope) some perspective and reason. But it was a long trying several days and I have struggled to understand how to react. Did we as a group drop the ball somewhere while organizing? Or were people not paying attention? Or did some people take for granted that our police department would remain standoffish as they have been for much of the past year. We chose to escalate and they matched our move, tit for tat. Although I was a bit surprised to see the increased numbers and intensity delivered by the police, I wouldn't say I was shocked. They know what we are up to even before we set out. They follow us on facebook, they probably even have "moles". This is how the game works.
Since that event and the numerous discussions that followed, it feels as if there has been a veil of silence cast over our group. Some people have clearly chosen "sides" in the arguments, some have moved on putting their energies into productive, but safer, projects. Our meetings have dwindled and there has been little or no talk of getting back into the streets.

I have asked around and it seems like I am the only one puzzled by this sudden downturn on momentum. We have always had our ebb and flow of energy and commitment, and I suppose we will regroup again; but I have to ask what does it take? We need to be proactive rather than waiting for the next hot issue to present itself so we can jump on the bandwagon. We did this on June 6th, determined that no matter the outcome of the recall election, we would be in the streets reinforcing our statements. It was this active and unconditional spirit that infused that day with energy and passion. The issues haven't changed, the problems haven't gone away, so why do we fail to remain vigilant in our assertion that we know what is wrong with this country and that we will not be silenced until real change is made.

As I predicted the upcoming election has diverted the attention of some Occupy affiliates. Whether they are applying their efforts to the electoral process, advocating for or against a candidate (or party) or by focusing on specific issues within the political context. I have no issue with individuals personal choice to participate in the electoral process, but

from it's inception Occupy clearly stated it's unwillingness to align itself with any party or candidate. This was one of the key elements that first drew me (and many others) to Occupy. We saw an opportunity to speak out as Human Beings, as the 99% as disconnected as we truly are from the Corporate plutocracy that our government has become. We have been more of a Social/cultural movement than a "political" movement. We have worked harder than most of us have ever worked before to ensure that our communication and structure is egalitarian, dynamic and unlike anything that has come before. Of course there have been problems but let's think a moment...this movement is less than a year old in practice, if we count from the day we hit the streets in September.

The effects on our national conversation and challenges to our entrenched worldview are staggering given the infant stage of this movement. Now is not the time to rest on our laurels as backslide to the old way of doing things, hoping that our "representative" democracy will indeed represent us or our best interests.

Finally, are we doing our part to create change? Even if some of us do decide to appeal to the "system" ( I like the old school title "The Man"), we can demand until we are blue in the face; but in our hearts we know our "demands" fall on deaf ears. These are powers so big they think they can shake us off like fleas. That is until they are reminded that their profits come from the sweat of our labor, from our entrusting our retirement funds to their gambling schemes, and from our dependence on their system. If we are not willing to get out in the streets and get a little roughed up, then it is time to take away our support of their profit driven machine. It's time to take our money out of the banks, to do some serious boycotting, to grow our own food, make our own products, stop shopping in their stores. We can meet our own community needs by creating co-ops and time shares, barter and trade our own goods and services; and let them know we are doing it and why.
We have been waking up, but slowly, and we too readily hit the snooze button and settle back into comfort for just a little longer. We can't afford to snooze, time is running out.

Is Occupy Anti-War?

2012-06-02T16:52:00.002-07:00

My last post recounted my experience at the NATO protest in Chicago. For those of you who saw it I'm pretty sure it was evident that I am encouraged to see Occupy beginning to make the connection between the economic injustices that have always been at the forefront of our actions, and the War Machine, the never ending specter of Imperialism that is at it's very roots.
In the early days of Occupy most of our actions and talking points were directed at a few basic targets all falling under the category of economic justice. We were angry about the bank bailouts and failure of the governmental and judicial system to hold bankers accountable for their actions in nearly destroying our economy. We were appalled that not only were there no consequences for their actions, but instead they were bailed out and given tax breaks to boot. Then, rather than using that money to help out people with underwater mortgages or in other economic crises, they merely continued to live their champagne and caviar lifestyles giving their most wealthy executives huge bonuses. Why wouldn't they? If they face no consequences why change? Why give up the kind of lifestyle they are accustomed to living? I suppose we hoped in our own way to disrupt business enough, to educate enough people to share in our outrage that just maybe we would get their attention.
It seems we have gotten their attention, although to what degree or effect remains to be seen. What is certain is that Occupy is gaining momentum and shows no indication of surrendering. In fact as we gain momentum and numbers we become more focused on our mission. We educate one another and continue to build upon our strengths while weeding out that which has not been productive. As we continue to learn, to revisit history and follow the money trail to it's most corrupt roots we are increasingly aware of the role that war plays in the big game of money and power. War is essential to the system; violence and control are an inherent part of any criminal enterprise. This is not new information but maybe we initially felt was too big, too beyond our control...or maybe it just wasn't quite real enough.
That is beginning to change.Thanks to people like Bradley Manning, IVAW, journalists and survivors who have the courage and integrity to speak out and tell the true tales of the atrocities of war, we can no longer hide from that horrible reality. Now that it is embedded in our minds, the stories, the images and the horror, we can't go back. You can't push the toothpaste back into the tube, a wise woman once said, and it's true. We can't let out efforts be left behind in Chicago with the closing of the NATO summit. If we are to continue our struggle against injustice and economic inequality this has to be part of the package.
As Americans we have largely been shielded from the realities of war. Our media is very careful in it's reporting. Only well edited snippets are revealed and always in such a context that we are portrayed as "liberators" conducting helpful interventions and bringing democracy to oppressed areas. The biggest sales pitch of all was the notion that we have to save the women of Afghanistan and other Muslim countries from oppressive and sexist traditions. That one even got most liberals on board.
Nice thought, only it isn't happening. Our government is doing much to help women either home or abroad. And the documented number of rapes perpetrated by our own troops is staggering, and increasing. Imagine the number that go unreported.
We know too much to turn back now. We know things that we would rather not know, and that is distressing. Many people are in a state of cognitive dissonance, their minds reeling from the reality that is presented to them, so different from what we have been raised to believe. This state of mind is distressing, yes, but it can be a signal that now is the time to get serious about this anti-war stuff. I know there are a million issues closer to home that many of us feel better about. Probably because it's on a playing field where we feel that we actually have some influence. And that's okay, we need some sense of victory now and then to keep us motivated and moving forward. But I will encourage all Occupiers to also "think globally" to remember how fortunate we are to be able to sleep safely at night without the fear of home invasion by foreign troops. Without having to pass checkpoints to go to the grocery store. Without having to live in fear that are children may be randomly fired at from a helicopter while going to school. After all if we continue in our role as the bully of the playground, it's only a matter of time before we become the target of revenge. That happened to us 11 years ago, one single day that changed everything. And yet it was one day. Imagine living in fear of such an attack every single day. Is that what we want for our children and grandchildren? Is that what we want for anyone? It's time to act. It's time to say No More War.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Hazard
Image courtesy of photobucket http://s563.photobucket.com/profile/swingingsixties2

NATO Part 2

2012-05-26T00:18:00.000-07:00

I've had a few days to reflect on the events of Sunday and to take in the reactions of other observers. I've been browsing Facebook, you tube, newspapers and the mainstream media looking at pictures, videos and reading snippets of other peoples experiences at the NATO protest. I checked out the mainstream media interpretation not because I am a glutton for punishment, but because I tend to forget that large segments of the US population does not see the world through my Aquarian Flower Child eyes and that for many of those people the news is 'reality'. If I am to put myself in a position to challenge another persons beliefs about reality I have to understand the nature of that perception. Even if it pisses me off.
The most significant development of this event is that we have turned our focus on the the most heinous arm of the self perpetuating machine of economic injustice and false democracy that has been the target of our resistance since day one. We have finally taken on the Beast that is War.
The Occupy message has always targeted economic injustice including the misuse of money and power in destroying democracy. Our focus has been directed toward Wall street, banks, investment firms and the politicians who are beholden to them. But we have overlooked the connection between all these entities and the Military Industrial Complex, the machine of Imperialism.
In Chicago, we finally stood up to it, took it on, we called it out and (pardon the expression, bitch slapped it) We exposed it's most brutal and unthinkable atrocities, raw and uncensored in the light of day before an audience of thousands. I say we in a collective sense, but the real credit goes to the Soldiers, Marines, and other service men and women who courageously told their stories, opened their emotional wounds and apologized to the victims of the crimes committed in the name of "national security". I can't imagine the strength it took for these men and women to speak out and to reject the symbols of what was once, in their world, symbols of courage, honor and achievement. They now see those symbols for what they are; empty tokens meant to pacify those whose lives are being destroyed so that the ruling elite can maintain their false sense of security and superiority in the global community.
And then there were the Women. Afghan Women. Refugees, children of refugees, survivors of unimaginable acts of violence and terror. They stood on the same stage with the troops...and they forgave them. It was the most incredibly emotional, transcendent moment of restorative justice many of us will ever witness. It was living proof that the power of love and redemption is stronger than money, or weapons or hate.
And it was completely ignored by the majority of the media. Even the independent "liberal" media was more focused on the protesters and of course the clashes with the police. The sources that did cover this incredibly moving climax to the day long event recorded the troops, but the women were barely given mention.
Can you imagine having your home invaded in the middle of the night, your parents raped and beaten, children murdered and you surviving, carrying those memories with you for the rest of your life? Now imagine telling your story to thousands of strangers in the midst of the country that perpetrated those crimes, not ten feet away from men who had played a role in that kind of carnage...and forgiving them?
I beg you to please, step away from the computer a moment and picture this. Picture your family, yourself, if you can ( because how can we, really?) in these circumstances. Holding within you the horror that will never, ever leave you.
That is war. That is war every day. For over a decade that has been happening every day to people in Iraq and Afghanistan.
That is the real enemy. It is the sociopathic mentality that underlies every act of selfish greed that is perpetuated by everyone from lying bankers to cheating politicians. It is embedded in our culture.
So what is the solution? How can there be any hope for a Nation so steeped in greed and arrogance? I believe that what took place on that stage between the former oppressors and victims, contains the elements to a the solution, or at least the beginning. It is up to us to share these stories, second hand it's easier for us, but no less powerful. The Human Connection, the raw honesty of experience and emotion, even terror and rage, is the only chance we have for survival.
Please, watch the videos. Read the stories. Listen to the experiences of Veterans and Survivors. Their truth is our truth. Their blood is on our hands for all the years we have remained complacent.
We must no longer choose silence. We must no longer allow crimes against humanity to be inflicted upon innocent civilians in our name. We owe it to those who have lost everything to honor their memory by telling their stories.
Here are a couple of links to get started. As always feedback, stories and links are welcome!
Peace,
Jenny

http://www.greenleft.org.au/node/51108
http://www.democracynow.org/2012/5/21/us_army_vets_join_with_afghans

NATO Part One~The Next Generation

2012-05-21T00:00:00.002-07:00

It is 12:30 a.m., I am physically exhausted after a day of marching, chanting, and singing in the heat and sunshine surrounded by the intense energy of the NATO protest in Chicago. My mind, however, is alight with images and thoughts as I have poured through the reports I've seen on the news and social networking sites. I feel the need to recount my experience while its fresh in my minds eye.
There are so many things I feel I need to say. There are powerful emotions and moments that evoked them that I must share.
Before I indulge in a point-counter-point dialogue in response to some of the rumors I've been hearing (including the "news" reports) I have to share one of the personal highlights of Flower Child Grandma's day out with my 11 year old granddaughter, Alita.
Today was a rite of passage for Alita. Protests and rallies are familiar territory for her and her sister Jenna. In the early days of the war in Iraq Alita was with us as we protested. In a baby carrier or stroller , like most of our family, she made her debut into the community of activists.
Last year while I joined thousands in Madison Wisconsin in the dead of winter, the girls stayed behind; not quite old enough to tolerate long hours of nasty weather miles away from home. But now, after nearly of year of cutting her teeth on smaller local Occupy events, the time seemed right and she accepted my invitation with enthusiasm. A visit to Chicago, other than school field trips, was a new opportunity for Alita. For me Chicago holds many childhood memories, my first experiences with a Big City and a place where I was treated to special trips with my own Grandmother. I was as excited about this trip as Alita was and looking forward to another generation of bonding in the Windy City. My bonding with Grandma took place over treats at Woolworths, in and out of shops and long walks down noisy, dusty streets and the wonder of buildings so tall they made me dizzy. Alita's was similar yet, let's say, a bit more edgy.
Today it became evident that Alita really 'gets it'; the spirit and technique of non-violent resistance and freedom of expression. When we passed a particularly icy row of state troopers, clad in Robocop riot gear, batons in hand, she confidently raised her hand in a peace sign, shot a smile and chanted clearly "I don't see a riot here, why you wearing riot gear?". There was no contempt or defiance in her approach, only rational direct confrontation, with a touch of innocence. For a moment I tensed, ready to intervene. Was this bright and beautiful girl going to become the next poster child for callous authoritarian posturing? (like the screaming pepper spray victims of last fall). In the same way we we let go of that gentle support as a child finds their balance on their first two wheeler bike I stood by watching with pride as she balanced and coasted, testing her voice and finding her power. Another Flower Child blossoms.

I will be back with more of the NATO protest, but on that note I'm off to sweet dreams of a better world that may very well come to be.
Peace,
Jenny

Vote 18

2012-04-19T07:33:00.001-07:00

In the 1960's and before, a kid could be drafted into war and all its horrendous possibilities without even having a voice in the electoral process. I'll just put aside, for the purposes of my story, the issue of whether or not any of us who are not billionaires have a voice anyway.
It was in 1970, when the "vote 18" campaign was in full swing that I found my political voice. I had been peripherally involved in anti-war and civil rights actions in tow along with my parents for as long as I could remember. I saw Martin Luther King, Jr. sitting on my Fathers shoulders peering over a sea of heads in Chicago. My Mom and I went to Quaker meetings and sat in silence with Conscientious Objectors. But the issue of 18 year old's right to vote was a fire that was kindled in my own soul by a 5th grade teacher, Ms Solberg, whose words of encouragement and empowerment still live on to inspire me over 40 years later.
"Vote 18" was my first cause. It was the first action that was fueled by a passion I had seen in my parents and others but never quite grasped in my own heart. It was my activist coming of age. The spark that was ignited by Ms Solberg, caught flame and burned brightly when a schoolmates older brother, who was only 18, was killed in Vietnam. I had met this kid. He had hung out with my babysitter in my living room, laughing, joking being just an average teenager. I remember sitting with them feeling pretty cool to be hanging with the big kids, pretending to know what they were talking about when half the time I didn't. There were hippie kids, they listened to Zepplin and Hendrix and were exotic colorful clothing. They were what I wanted to be. And then his number came up he was ripped away from his carefree life of flowers and rock and roll and dropped into a strange country thousands of miles away and killed.
I was already anti-war but the additional insult that this young man could be used as fodder for this senseless war without even having an opportunity to vote was unconscionable.
I wore "Vote 18" buttons and responded with sassy defiance to adults who patronizingly asked me if I even "knew what that meant" (the story of my friends brother generally changed their tone) I wrote letters to politicians, I graffiti'd "vote 18" in parks and in public restrooms with all the flourish of Zorro embellishing his notorious mark. I attended rallies at the University of Illinois campus where my Mom was taking graduate classes and experienced the exhilaration of being part of the unified energy. I did everything an 11 year old could do.
The following year in 6th grade a male teacher scoffed at a bunch of us " once you kids turn 18 you probably won't even vote". As I recall I held my tongue on that one (not always the case when I was a kid) but I carried those words with me every time I went to the polls as an adult, an 18 year old 'adult'.
Every election I feel a commitment to my 11 year old self who, with trembling hands and a pounding heart stubbornly faced the derision of certain adults. I also take with me the memories of the women and minorities who fought for the right to vote, not only for themselves but for future generations, for us.
Corporate America, ALEC and greasy palmed politicians may have made a mockery of our electoral system and there are many people who feel that it is beyond repair. I have to believe that it is not. I have to fight for an 11 year old Flower Child.

The 26th amendment lowered the voting age for elections in the US. It was passed on March 23, 1971 and officially ratified on July 1, 1971.

Text of the Amendment
Section 1. Lowering the voting age
The right of citizens of the United States, who are 18 years of age or older, to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the united States or by any state on account of age.
Section 2. The Congress shall have the power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation
http://wiki.answers.com/

The Nineteenth Amendment (Amendment XIX) to the United States Constitution prohibits any United States citizen to be denied the right to vote based on sex. It was ratified on August 18, 1920.
http://en.wikipedia.org/

copyright Jennifer Hazard 2012

The Howl of the Activist

2012-02-25T13:32:00.000-08:00

Blogging from my phone with its tiny keypad and mini screen is not my preferred means of communication. My aging eyes squint in tenacious determination from behind the lenses of my Walgreens +250 readers. I am dedicated to communication, to telling the stories behind the cardboard signs and the public persona of the "Person of The Year", the Protester. I tell the tale because that is Activism and I am an Activist.
In telling the tales there is no one profile to describe "The Protester". We come from all walks of life; we are Women, Men, Transgender, young, old and in-between. We are diverse in skin color, ethnicity, socioeconomic status and personal history. And now, suddenly, the meme of "activist" is ubiquitous; not since the 60's has the Activist or Protester so thoroughly captured the public eye. Of course we've been here all along doing what we do, living our lives in concert with our values and ideals to the best of our abilities. Most of us have managed to work our activism seamlessly into our lives whether it be by career path, volunteering or lifestyle choices such as living "green" shopping and gardening in ways that are sustainable and healthy for ourselves and our earth. Many have chosen spiritual paths that are in alignment with their activist principles. And some of us are letter writers, following legislation and expressing our thoughts to whomever may listen. There are endless ways to incorporate our values into every aspect of our if we live mindfully and authentically Naturally most of us have veered from the path in one way or another, often not by choice or preference but as the result of necessity, external influences or, face it, sometimes we simply hit a rough patch in life that throws us off track. It's all part and parcel of the Human experience.
Although I think I can justifiably say that I have been an activist most of my life, and like most I too have been sidetracked no and then by events in my life. But I always return to the core values to which I was raised. No matter how crappy life gets I recycle, I do my best to shop consciously as well as my budget will allow and I have a reputation for taking in strays, both human and four legged.
In all my years, I have rarely affiliated myself with any particular activist group or movement. I have participated in actions that have been sponsored by one group or another. When I had a reasonable income I donated money to s few causes and I have attended meetings and teach ins that were sponsored by activist organizations. For the most part however, I haven't felt the need to belong to any one particular cause or community. When the notion has struck me that it might be fulfilling to be a part of something bigger, there just never seemed to be the "right" fit. I am wary of groups for a number of reasons. Mostly it's simply a matter of personal choice, there are people who always feel more at home within a community of some sort, and others who prefer a small group of friends and family as their primary social circle. There is also, however, the cumulative result of the observations that I have made over the years as I've watched groups and communities form, develop and either grow, morph into something different than originally intended or die out completely depending on circumstances. As I said in my last post, sometimes the magic is there and sometimes it isn't.
For some reason, when Occupy Wall street came along and began to gain traction throughout the nation I thought that maybe this was the 'thing' that was going to get me to break out of my shell and open myself to become a part of something much bigger. After all we Wisconsinites were all still fired up from the Madison protests and just a few months before that I had been active with local teachers organizations helping to save hundreds of jobs in our public schools. I felt a kinship with the teachers, some of them had taught at my son's school and had been instrumental in his academic success. And in Madison, with my very small group of friends and our families the excitement and hope was palpable, inducing a sort of 'natural high' as we stood in Solidarity with thousands in the snow and wind and ice.

So when Occupy came to town I went to the initial planning sessions, listened and participated. On the first day of Solidarity, October 15th I walked with thousands through the streets of downtown Milwaukee fueled by the energy that was sweeping the nation. Gradually I became involved in the maintenance and daily operations of the Occupation site, a spot where Occupy Milwaukee has maintained a presence since late October. I have sat through endless meetings, slept in the park in the rain, cold and mud. I have made friends and yea, even a couple of enemies. I have helped plan actions and mediated internal conflict. I have made mistakes and I have created solutions. I have made sacrifices and reaped rewards. It's been an exciting couple of seasons. I've seen the group grow, struggle, learn, backslide and bounce back. I've seen factions forming both official and unofficial, some strong and with great potential, others, well time will tell. I'm impressed with the momentum of this movement, I'm saddened at some of the divisiveness I see that threatens in the days ahead, but that will all come out in the wash as my Grandma used to say. One would hope that there is a Unifying force that connects us all; the desire for a more just and peaceful world and although differences may arise in the methodology rather than the ideology I think he ideology is strong enough to withstand the challenge. Occupy may be here to stay. Beyond our on local community I've seen the name "Occupy" attached to just about every ideal, action or concept one can imagine. Soon it will be products, in fact I think there already are some. But after 5 months I still don't feel the fit of it on myself. Maybe it's my contrary nature, my not wanting to have to ask 'permission' for group consensus to attach the name "Occupy" to any action or statement. It feels a bit like possessiveness to me even though I fully understand the desire to maintain the integrity of the name. Maybe it's my reluctance to belong to any group that is defined by a name. Maybe it's the internal conflicts that have plagued our own group and that never seem to give a moments rest. Somehow other people seem to be more resilient in their response to conflict and that may be a trait that separates "group people" from people like me. I can only speak for myself, and when I speak I say I am an Activist, I am a Feminist, I am an Advocate for Human Rights, I am an Environmentalist, I am Anti-War and I am a bit of an Anarchist, and although I support the Occupy Movement, I am not the occupy movement. I don't need to identify with a name brand, I can't identify with a name brand. I gave the group thing a try and although I respect that it works for others I suspect it's not my cup of tea. I am a Lone Wolf I suppose and that's okay by me... I will howl at the Moon and my call is, and always will be the call of Lifetime of Activism.

Keeping it Up in Milwaukee

2012-02-20T09:33:00.000-08:00

Image courtesy of
Cindy Maire P.

As we enter our 5th month of Occupation, well into our second season, we are in the midst of a time of transition and transformation. The Occupation has always been dynamic, evolving as it grows and recedes and grows again. Each day brings new challenges and we have experienced some phases that were defined by a particular theme or issue.
Of the activists whose work has been dedicated to Occupation of public space the past several months, many have hit the proverbial wall. Confrontations with critics and saboteurs, the police and even internal personality conflicts have taken their toll on emotions and psychic well being. Extended exposure to rough weather, inconsistent diet and interrupted sleep are wearing us down physically. Many Occupiers have disrupted their lifestyle to the point of straining relationships with family, friends and other obligations and some are feeling a financial strain as a result of missed days at work adding a social and economic strain as well. There have been many sacrifices made in all areas of the average Occupier's life in any part of the world, some have been arrested, beaten, fined; some have experienced serious injury the effects of which may last forever. Symbolic suffering has it's place, but few willingly volunteer for a lifetime of service.
I think most would agree that for the initial phase of the Occupy Movement the sacrifices have been worth the effort. The movement has gained global recognition and support. We have finally gotten the attention of even mainstream media, and many people are realizing that this is a dedicated and tenacious group of people who are not going to go away. Even the groups and individuals who disagree with the message of the movement are starting to take notice.
Now that we have the Nations attention, it's time for the next phase. I'm not the first person to ask "where do we go from here?" It's a question that has been at the forefront of many a General Assembly discussion from coast to coast for several weeks. And while many occupiers and non-occupiers alike believed that winter would bring a time of retraction and reflection while we all went home to plan for spring, it appears that we have a momentum that just won't quit. Rather than sitting back in our cozy homes sipping tea and carefully strategizing for transition, we are thinking on our feet as we look to the future for answers to the question that is on everyones mind.
Most Occupy groups are, to some degree, united by the movement itself. Relationships that have been forged in the heat of the first several months are beginning to solidify and strengthen and affinity groups have been attracted to the success they see within many of the groups. For these groups and individuals it would seem likely that the next steps will grow organically and naturally from the fertile ground that has been set in place.
Other groups are finding the transition to be a bit more challenging. One could speculate many possible reasons that some groups have the flow while others have struggled; doing this may serve a purpose somewhere down the road, refining the 'formulas' for grassroots organizing. In reality the bottom line is there are so many factors that contribute to the success or failure of a group one can almost conclude that sometimes it comes down to something intangible, like fate or luck. Sometimes people end up being in the right place at the right time, that magical moment where things just 'click', just like any other relationship.
Right now struggling groups can't afford the time to figure out what went wrong; we need to focus on what is right, what we have to offer and where to go from here. This may mean some groups split into smaller affinity groups each comprised of people with similar goals and theoretical orientation. This has already manifested in my city where there are several Occupy groups each representing a specific neighborhood or area. Milwaukee is a city of neighborhoods, a big small town with lots of ethnic diversity but sadly, clear and visible segregation. The neighborhood Occupy groups reflect the culture or sub-culture of their part of the city and often structure their actions to target issues of concern to that population. Personally, I think there is an upside to this phenomenon. It has strenthened and unified neighborhoods, bringing people together in a way that larger scale outreach cannot. And as each group becomes more cohesive and secure, they bring their strengths to the table within a larger coalition. The coalition, utilizing the combined power of the smaller groups, takes on the more universal issues while still maintaining a sense of community and accountability within their own distinct neighborhoods.
To break it down to a more micro level, we are experiencing some internal changes within our own neighborhood Occupation. We are located in the most diverse and integrated area of a very segregated city and I think that puts us in a unique position, one that creates myriad possibilities. We stand on the threshold of a new stage, maybe a bit behind the timetable of some of the other groups but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Our most recent meeting was conflict ridden and frustrating...and it was a catalyst for growth. We are now in a position to either shit or get off the pot as someone in my family used to say and I, for one, feel the time is right for a good dose reality.
On a personal level I have to listen to my heart, to examine what it is that feels right and what doesn't. There are several paths ahead that can be explored and I suspect as a group we will not all take the same road and that's okay. It's an exciting time to be an activist and one that is ripe with opportunity for each person to find their niche, to use their gifts and to be a part of creating something new as we approach Spring; our third season.
I do hope that as we approach Spring, with all it's hope and promise, we will all plant the seeds for growth that will carry us into an abundant Summer and a glorious Harvest.
Peace ,
Jenny Nanakoosa

The Flower Child is Back!

2012-01-26T22:57:00.000-08:00

As with most ventures in my life, my journey into the world of blogging has been a playful adventure, a free flowing experiment that is guided more by creative flow and intuition than by formula and instruction. I am bored by tradition instruction manuals and prefer to learn by trial and error. Sometimes I make up the rules as I go along. Sometimes I make mistakes and sometimes I am blessed by Divine Alchemy that transforms my blunders into blossoms of truth and beauty.
I know that my way of doing things drives some people crazy. Some people find it merely irritating and for others it is downright unsettling. And then there are my kindred souls, free spirits like myself who are completely comfortable living life "with the flow", sailing our ships by star patterns instead of maps or other guidance devices.
It's all good it's all valid, the world needs all kinds of people, the left brainers and the right brainers and even the no-brainers. We all work together to weave the pattern of this thing that is life on earth. We may not always understand each other, but we all need each other, whether we realize it or not.
One of my fondest hopes for the current trend in social and political disruption and reformation is that we will begin to realize just how important we are to each other. For my part, the most exciting potential that is offered in these times is the opportunity to restructure our communities and to forge cooperative systems of reciprocity where all talents, abilities and unique world views are valued. And yes, even the so called, nasty or objectionable behaviors and mindsets do have value, in my opinion. After all if it weren't for the grand escalation of greed and corruption that turned the financial and political domain on it's head we never would have reached a critical breaking point that brought people of all ages, races and socioeconomic backgrounds together in fierce unity.
And what does all this have to do with my erratic experimentation with the world of blogging you ask? Well I'll tell you. Obviously I started this blog at a time when I thought it might be fun to retell some of the stories from my unconventional childhood, kind of a series of mini memoirs. Later it turned out that was kind of a whim and I ended up putting most of my focus on my primary blog and playing around with other social networking formats and doing some additional writing on the side. As I became more involved in the current political and social movements, my experiences there and the insights they have produced began to spill over into my blog. One day I realized, as I was found myself crunching stories of activism into different shapes in a desperate effort to make them fit my blog, I had strayed from my original intention and purpose.
Of course, if I had read and followed the rules of blogging 101, I probably would have caught myself sooner, but it is what it is and here I am slightly off course but never lost. Another lesson learned by trial and error. As often happens to us stargazers it was a bit of that Divine intervention that led me to take a look at the odds and ends of my entire social networking adventure and decide to do some house cleaning. I was about to delete this blog thinking, "ach I never write about my childhood, I'm far too busy living in the now" but as I reviewed at the posts and the pictures I'd shared, recalling the memories of those years, i discovered that my unconventional childhood is alive and well in my adult self. It is the passionate idealism that drives my involvement in the current movement for social change. My commitment to Social Justice and Equality and my taste for rebellion were nurtured in that era of the "turbulent 60's". I was born for this kind of stuff! I can scarcely think of any other time in history where I felt more at home, or have had such a clear sense of purpose and actually believed that just maybe I have been in the right place at the right time after all.
Peace,
Jenny

ã 2012 Jennifer Hazard/Adventures of a Flower Child

Photo Flashbacks

2011-07-28T18:15:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone,

Teen angst

My Brother and Me

I haven't abandoned my Hippie Girl blog entirely, I've just been focused on other projects. as if a prompt from the Universe, a package arrived in the mail from my Mother last week. Inside the box were stacks of old photos and boxes slides from from my childhood years. Browsing through the pictures triggered memories I had kept stored away in the cobwebby corners of my mind for decades. I posted some of the pics on my facebook account and quite soon afterward friends and family began commenting and sharing their own memories of those days. what a perfect gift from my mother at this time in my life when I have experienced so many transitions, transformations and am now in the delightful process of rebuilding. Rebuilding becomes much more authentic when we bring pieces of our history along for the ride!

Peace,

My Mom in her artists studio

Jenny

Guest Post, something to think about....

2011-04-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

Hello Hippies, Activists and All who are ready to demand change!

I discovered this post on the Facebook group page, "Call For a General Strike". It is written by a group member, Bob Babcock who was kind enough to allow me to share. Bob's words illuminate the experiences of a generation, my generation. I hope they will serve as a rallying cry for those of us who were fortunate to have come of age at a time when Humanity itself seemed to be coming of age. We believed in so much possibility even as we watched our dreams shattered by senseless assassinations and a seemingly endless war. I hope Bob's word will help rekindle some fire in those who have become disillusioned and mired in the victimology of powerlessness. We are not powerless!

Peace and solidarity,

Jenny

Mommy and Daddy died . . .

I think the first time it happened in my life was back in 1963. My grandmother "Toots" died. It was the first time I thought about death. A few years later it happened again but much closer to home. My sister died. I was barely a teenager. She'd been sick a lot but the day she died she had actually gotten out of bed on her own. When I came home from school for lunch I overheard her telling Mom that she was dying, to which Mom responded "Nonsense honey, this is the first time you've been up and around for months. You're getting better!". Three hours later, she was gone. As we get older it happens to all of us, more and more. We see it on TV and read it in the papers. After my grandmother, JFK was killed and the nation mourned. After my sister, there was Martin and then Bobbie. We mourned more. Our friends die in accidents, immediate and extended family from disease, too. As we get older we see more family die while others are born. I was able to cut the umbilical cords on my two youngest sons and give them their first baths at birth. Years later I was able to hold the hand of my fiancée and tell I love her as she died from ovarian cancer. Years later I didn't have the same privilege of saying goodbye to my youngest son . . . It seems that the only thing that remains the same . . . is change. We're born. We live. We die. WE are responsible for what happens during the "living" part of life. I remember reading in Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-aid Acid Test a repetitive passage "either you're ON the bus, or OFF the bus". Life is like that. So here's the thing: somewhere along the line, Mommy and Daddy died too. There's kind of an "ultimate lesson" learned when that happens: one REALLY has only one's self to rely on. You can't go "home" anymore if things don't work out. They're not there to fix it anymore. Politics is like that . . . . . . except that there NEVER really was no Mommy or Daddy. Reality? "If it is to be, it is up to me." Yeah. We WANT our leaders to fix it. But the economy/wars/ social injustice/environment, etc. isn't going to require a simple diaper change. Democracy is dying. AMERICA as we know it is dying. Neither Daddy nor Mommy can fix it, and sometimes I think that our brothers and sisters are part of the problem. We, the people, have to do it. If ANY President, Congressperson or other politician is going to have a HAND in fixing it, WE THE PEOPLE have to give them permission by the sheer number of our voices. So far, we've FAILED. The powers that be have the money, the time and the think tanks to divide and conquer us. They're smart enough to ferment our discontent over the slow speed of change - a slow speed that they control with the lobbyist money and campaign contributions and Citizens United-like PAC's. They control the Main Stream Media through the advertising. They get us pitted against each other over who we support in the leadership. Don't let them. Get over it. Mommy and Daddy died. No President or legislature is going to be able to fix ANYTHING until we gain enough mass. We have to educate each other and not hate each other over ideology. Tea Party members are NOT the enemy. Republican voters are NOT the enemy. Democrats are NOT the enemy. The lack of information and ideology is the enemy. Again, it is the lack of information and education about the economy, the environment, energy, etc. WE THE PEOPLE must be the "rising tide that lifts all boats." If you expect Obama to do it you'll be left in some rather large dirty diapers. It's not his fault; it's OUR expectations. Talk to everyone about the issues. Have pot luck dinners together, coffees, barbeques, beer bashes, whatever . . . just like the teach-ins that helped stop the war in Viet Nam and the consciousness-raising groups that advanced women's rights. The wars must end. The economy must be for the common person. The world needs clean energy independence. We're all in this together.

By: Bob Babcock

CALL FOR GENERAL STRIKE FACEBOOK PAGE:

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_130148043725404

I am a Work in Progress

2011-04-22T00:36:00.000-07:00

Greetings,

Throughout the past year I have experimented with different blogs, formats and even adjusted the general theme of some of my sites. Most recently I have been consumed by the rapidly changing political and economic environment and the need for real social justice; and that has seeped into my other blogs.
I want to remain true to my purpose and intention for my writing and although there are indeed times when the personal intersects with the political I'd like to maintain the clarity of purpose on each blog. Therefore I am designating this blog as a forum for my political, social and cultural expression...this is what a Flower Child looks like as she blooms in adulthood.

As always I welcome any feedback and discussion!

Peace,

Jen

Flower Child at work

2011-04-15T23:49:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone!
It's been quite some time since I've posted here. I've been quite busy with two other blogs and a Facebook group. I've also been quite involved in political actions, networking, teaching and learning about the actions we citizens can take to confront Corporate/Political attempts to usurp out democracy and freedom. As I become increasingly involved, informed and passionate I frequently reflect on my wild, gypsy childhood and how it prepared me for an adulthood of passionate activism, critical thinking, problem solving and compassion. I'm working on a story, a 60's flower Child Adventure and promise to publish soon. In the meantime here are some pictures of me and brother enjoying free childhood and exploration. The cabin was my Paternal Grandparents, located in the Upper peninsula of Michigan, home to many childhood adventures spent living close to the Earth and learning her rhythms.