In the Shadows

A few years ago, I wrote this and an abbreviated version was used as a reading for a church service on the shadows of our lives as voiced by the poets and bards of our community. This week our pastor spoke about the intersection between sorrow/pain and growth/blessing. So I am sharing that piece as a response via blog today.

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The shadow of fear is faced fully, and into the darkness we step, not knowing where the journey will lead. If fortunate, the darkness is transcended and on the other side, the light of love and the self which is true. If well done, at the end of it all, a contentment in that realization itself. In one poem I wrote:

And then that day comes, quietly we scream.
We have seen the vision of coming death’s door
Life lived, with unfulfilled dreams
Dark day is here, we are no more.

And yet a blessing indeed for love and soul
Love living on, in mystery so sublime
And our memory becomes part of the whole
Even as finite body recycles into the Divine.

And if we see Earth as living and being
And if we accept we are all part of whole
In all of creation we are seeing
Nothing lost, and love rooted at heart of soul.

Within life itself though, within the life span itself, it seems we undergo many deaths, births, and resurrections, or so it has been for me. As if life were a continual re-imagining of the authentic self that lies within. As I speak here of the many tragedies and the passages that lead to the ME that is today, in my search for the ever elusive light that shines brightly, fades, hides behind the clouds of life, and then reappears again; within the shadows of existence reaching out and expanding exactly the way so much of nature does… as I speak of these things, I am ever mindful that within darkness came the source that enriches and accentuates the beauty of direct sunlight upon the authentic soul. And the mystery, the countless synchronistic moments that led to the next moments almost as if by design pulling me along to an ongoing, ever changing journey of self truth. All along the way are choices to be made, and each path represents a different outcome. In my alcoholism for example, that moment of clarity demanding a decision, sobriety being the choice for life in my case. Avoiding always avoiding labels and defining restrictions on that mystery, but nevertheless feeling a sense of awe at the non-definable presence along the way.

In such a lifespan are those moments, sometimes long moments that become days, weeks, months even years, that may require a journey beyond the normal limits we believe possible, and into darkness; where each step is an act of faith for which there are no guarantees, yet our realities demand the choices be made. And they are important choices. Choices made between life or death, joy or sorrow, love or the safety of acceptability. And as if that were not sufficient a challenge, society filled with those who want to make those choices for us without the consequence of living the decision. Today I am addressing such a time, a piece only of a life journey.

I wrote:

“The struggle is over, for the fish has
Surrendered to the bottom feeders;
Its breathless form a delight to those
Who feverishly rip it apart for its peace.
A piece of peace, for the strongest and most ruthless,
Swarming fury, then emptiness....
They have found what the fish has already known.
Bones sink to the ocean floor, some wash ashore
And peace silently waits
To be discovered once more.”

This is from a poem I wrote some years ago, during darkness like I had never known before. In still another writing, feeling the intense angst of separation from everything meaningful to me, and yet another analogy to the fish, I wrote the following:

“I offer love yet am I reviled..
My pain I offered to be met with more
My heart I presented, only to be devoured
In a swarming tumultuous feeding frenzy
For the sharks, left with nothing save a few bones
Completely devoured...the flesh of life.

So come to me Death! I welcome thee my friend!
COME TO ME...Waiting for thee
Come to this soul with passion spent
Come to me, my heart rent..
Let this end.”

People close to me were afraid that I was becoming suicidal perhaps. But it was not that after all. But, at that moment, in my darkness, I could not see my way to find the inspiration for life to continue, sensing that death was drawing ever more closely as a natural resolution to my desolation and devastation. No, it was not that I desired death, well maybe perhaps a little, but rather there was the sense of separation from the very light others take so for granted.

At what point was it that this immersion into the dark recesses of spirit occurred? I had always felt a great deal of separation as a gay and transgender person in the south. Growing up in the fifties and early sixties in East Texas, queer was no easy thing to be. Worse, I could not melt into the crowds so to speak. I was identifiable as somehow different and therefore an open target. Still I survived, and eventually even thrived. I found a person to share my life with, even as I lost virtually all of my family because of my transition from male to female. I had managed not to lose my job even if I faced a great deal of harassment on a regular basis in that workplace for my “difference”. But I had friends, and a lover who loved me selflessly and totally.

There's the proverbial final straw, the one that simply makes life too much to deal with. In dealing with crisis of this sort, working on one or two problems helps make life more manageable. Understanding this at an intellectual level is useful, up to a point. Many times before, this knowledge had helped me transcend difficult times, like when my friends were dying during the early days of HIV or coping with bar raids or police brutality or the deaths of my parents.

Then came my True Darkness, what Theresa of Avila or John of the Cross might have called the Dark Night of the Soul. Here it was that my encounter truly began, where no intervention was possible, my choices to be made and the mystery present in my search not just for light but survival. My one true love became ill suddenly and died soon after. I held my soul companion in my arms helpless to the ravages of viral encephalitis and then he was gone. Having already lost much of my family who rejected me for my queerness, I was so very alone. I was but a shell, functioning to live, but little more. Still, this sort of thing happens after all and it wouldn't be easy, but I could and would survive.

Less than a month later, I am preparing to walk patrol in our gay ghetto as part of a volunteer organization to prevent gay bashings. My friend Dee and I are laughing about something that happened to her a few days earlier. Suddenly without warning she lets out a gasp and collapses to the floor. A friend applies cpr, but even as I hold her in my arms, reaching for her pulse and telling her that I love her, they are the last words she will ever hear and the second person in a month near and dear to me dies in my arms.

Quietly I sit at the foot of the stairs, rocking back and forth, softly sobbing. The ambulance came and I rode with her to the hospital for the doctors to state the obvious. In the events of these days, I had met head on the full darkness of the human condition. I had stepped fully into the darkness, with no certainty of where my journey was leading, but inside somewhere a hope that I could not see but was there nonetheless. .
The dream was there; something I could not imagine nor define, hidden by the veil of the darkness of circumstance. This was a passage that was singularly mine, and yet I needed help for the journey had taken me to a place beyond any pain I ever thought I could endure. I stepped into darkness, powerless and vulnerable.
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And so it was, making quiet choices one at a time, placing one foot in front of the other even when I wanted to simply go away, and with countless people slipping into and out of my life weaving webs of support, webs of love to help me step beyond all of this, and slowly healing began. We hear so very often of the interconnected web of life. It's very real to this writer. Were it not for all the small gifts of loving kindness along the way, I would not have had the strength to prevail. Having known such love as I had known and then seeing it lost, left me more mature in terms of not only others, but for myself. Like the plant that grows in the fertile soil bathed in the loving light of the sun, I prospered from the exposure to light even more than ever for having known true darkness.

There will be more times of shadow in this life, but there is a certainty of light that cannot be taken away. My awe of the mystery remains always, and the journey amidst the shadows has become one of excitement and anticipation. At the age of 56, well 57 this week, I am on the slope towards that final transition to another unknown. But I have today, and it is that day, THIS day, I celebrate. Oh my differences are still there and they are significant, and no matter what I do or how I do it, some will find fault and even wish that I would disappear forever. Hate and fear does that to people. And so I would finish with this excerpt from another poem I wrote entitled trans-separations:

But life goes on and love goes on and hate and fear go on also.
To all who hope that my kind will disappear, and those who revel in my difference;
What we have not in common rather than what we do, I smile sweetly, and offer this simple reality:
I can only be me and you can only be you and we can be we or never
But my truth will remain, agree or complain, and from my truth you cannot sever
For in truth to self I have found truth in others and the same for love it is clear,
To leave behind that which is ME would leave ME with nothing but fear.

My soul lives, and will beyond death and it is a beautiful soul prepared to love, prepared to live, prepared to dance.
If you dance with me, then we dance together, but if you cannot, I shall dance alone.

July 3, 2004

Why marriage?

Today, Rev. Justin Schroeder, pastor at my congregation, First Universalist Church, wrote the following in his blog:

"I didn't get married for the rights that marriage brings (although the rights are important). I got married because love opened my heart in the deepest way I've ever known. I got married because I wanted to journey through life with someone who was a true partner, who helps me be the best person I can be (and who I help as well), through thick and thin. I got married because of love, not because of the rights.

I'm curious, if you're married: why did you get married? What caused you to take that leap of faith? Was it love? Was it because your partner felt like a soul mate? Why did you get married? Was it for the rights?"

It's a good question and I do have my own answer to his questions. First, an extremely shortened version of my life story to provide context to what I am saying. I began life with a "M" on my birth certificate. I was gay and transgender and yes that is very confusing. I lived much of the first half of my life on the guy side before transitioning. After transition for reasons I don't fully understand, I remained gay on the "F" side of the equation. That is, instead of men, I found myself attracted to women. It happens sometimes with those of us who make the gender journey, and it definitely did with me. Now perhaps what follows will at least be understood in context of the journey.

My first marriage was a legal heterosexual marriage. I as a gay guy married a lesbian woman. It was I realize now simply a symptom of the times and represented our last great effort at being straight. We cared about each other, but it was not really love, though we certainly did make an effort to conform to what the rest of the world expected. After 3.5 years and one child later, we amicably split up. I set aside for the time any thoughts of long term relationships and went about the job of helping raise our daughter as absentee dad.

Fast forward several years. My daughter is almost grown. I had participated in a program of sobriety, a program that required me to be honest with myself. I began to move away from the insanity of pretending to be one way with one group of people, another way with others. I had a gay life and a allegedly straight life going all at once. It was time to start simply being me and end the charade. The program also made me revisit seriously my gender issues as well. During this time I met Skip. From the moment we met, something magical happened. It was at a Dignity Service (outreach for gay and lesbian Catholics.) He was the greeter at the door. He greeted me, we talked, and never ended the conversation. Quite a sight we were, sitting in church whispering to each other like two excited teenage girls and it was not possible to get too much information about the other. This was a love I had never known before. Within a month people confused us with couples who had been together for years. I could not imagine a life without Skip being a part of it. Even more remarkable, he felt the same about me! He was the first person I talked to about my transgender nature. He still did not run away!

Our life together was amazing. He was brilliant, a teacher of Latin, Greek, English, Music, German, Philosophy, or Theology. He had health issues, living with Rheumatoid Arthritis that grew progressively worse over time. It was however an opportunity for love as I massaged his aching joints, holding him close during the more painful times. We lived in a small apartment in the Montrose neighborhood of Houston and were so happy. The romance never went away either over the years. The love grew only more profound. We had a quiet wedding ceremony at our place. It was blest by a gay priest we knew, and even if not recognized by the State of Texas, our vows were sacred and life long.

Justin mentioned in his blog how we do not marry for the rights, though they are important. Let me explain how important they really are. Skip was on a variety of medicines for his rheumatoid arthritis. One danger of those meds is a compromised immune system. Skip began having problems speaking out loud, and seemed to be getting weaker. It culminated with him collapsing in the bathroom where he was then rushed to the E.R. The diagnosis was viral encephalitis. For a few weeks he lay in a coma, me by his side, and it ultimately killed him. I cannot possibly using mere words describe the loss I felt at the time. I could not imagine a life without my beloved Skip. But here I need to talk about some of those basic marriage rights. Over the last couple of years, Skip's medical costs had risen, and he was no longer able to work. Money was tight for us, and we could not have afforded the expensive legal workarounds on our budget. Lying there in bed was my life partner, yet I could make no medical decisions for him. His sister had to do that. Had she not given permission for me to sit with him, I could have been excluded from his hospital room. We had bought many things together. After he passed away, had his sister wanted to, she could have come and taken much of what we had acquired in our life together and I would have been powerless.

I remember like it was yesterday the day he died. I told him I loved him, and that it was okay to go. I held him to the last moment and then his life departed. It is amazing how you can just know when that spark of life has moved on. I called the nurse. She asked me, "Do you have anyone here for you?"

"His family and the priest are sitting outside."

"No, I asked if there was anyone here for you?"

"No. Maybe later."

She put her arm around me and said, "I'm here for you right now. I'm giving you five minutes to say your goodbyes before I call the others in."

Did I mention she must surely be an angel? So I said my goodbyes, then walked out the door as the family walked in.

Later, his sister called and asked me if I would go with her to the funeral home to make the final arrangements. She didn't have to do that, and she could have banned me from the funeral and from his gravesite. More of those marriage rights and why they are also important. I did not marry him for the rights, because I could not. But each step in the process gave silent affirmation that our relationship was not quite as good as my heterosexual counterparts. Then came the newspaper obituary where I was listed as "close personal companion." Close personal companion? Is that like a lifestyle coach? Damnit he was my husband, and I his wife!

Time passed, and healing took place. I'd been transitioning when Skip passed away, and I met Robin as a woman. In some ways she is completely different from Skip. In another they are similar. Like with Skip, we just started talking and never stopped. After a couple of months she was moving in and our life as a couple began. I feel like the most blessed woman ever. I've found a deeply profound love twice in one lifetime, a love that is returned in kind. As with Skip, though we have many differences, they seem to compliment our relationship rather than detract from us. During one press interview, Robin offered the best metaphor I thought. She said we were like two old sneakers. A comfortable fit and though a bit old and ragged, we just belonged together. That is who we are. Two old sneakers.

So I hatched a plan how we could be legally married. A court case in Texas had ruled in the case of Christie Littleton that though she had her surgery, though she had a legal marriage that had been recognized for years, the marriage to her husband after he passed away was annulled. She was denied rights to insurance settlements, and the family banned her from the grave site of her husband. Yep, those pesky "rights" again. The decision was a lousy one, assuming her chromosomes from her original birth certificate and ruling that while she was legally female in every other sense, she was not female for purposes of marriage. Set aside the scientifically flawed logic of such a decision, I can imagine nothing crueler.

So, I reasoned, if she could not get married, then Robin and I could. Well Houston said no, furthermore stating I could marry no one, male or female. We went to San Antonio where they issued a certificate. Btw, we used the public nature of what was going on to allow Christie to share her story and the unfair treatment she had received. I am glad she was a guest at our wedding. I've written elsewhere on the wedding itself, but the story here is an allegory on the blatant unfairness of what we have today. Since ours is a marriage granted in such unusual circumstances, we still have to do all the expensive work-arounds, like medical directives, wills etc. True marriage equality could change all that. It would resolve a host of legal issues, while allowing people to affirm a relationship that will exist whether legal or not. Our vows were to each other, but also an affirmation to the community in which we live. By not allowing official sanction for some, we deny some full participation in the greater community. That is so very wrong.

Robin and I have been together now for more than 12 years. Our love is stronger than ever before, and we know what a blessing it is. During our fifteen minutes of fame, we repeated one line everywhere we went. "Love is love. Love is all there is." Turns out I found out later we were paraphrasing Emily Dickinson:

"That love is all there is
Is all we know of love."

One of two old sneakers;

Jessica

Privilege: A Story to Illustrate

Jimmy and Ollie Wicks

Today is Dr. King's day. I've been reading a wonderful book that shares some of the stories of millions of black Americans who beginning with WWI began migrating out of the South. I recall Jim Crow, having grown up in a world with separate facilities and a host of "rules" that enforced a caste system as rigid as anywhere on this planet. My grandpa lived in Northeast Texas back when. I remember him telling me how he encountered a group fo "Night Riders" one evening. He hid from them, because when they were riding, sometimes innocent white folk got hurt too. He rushed home and his daddy scolded him even though he had not done anything wrong. One story he shared was of a black man who had been accused locally. He had been locked up in jail. The mob told the sheriff to get out which he did. They then opened fire from all directions, sending bullets all through the jailhouse and killing the man inside.

But one story stands out from my grandpa that illustrates privilege as well as any. Grandpa had been kicked out on his on before he was grown, the act of a stepmom. Needing to survive, he became a sharecropper. His name was Jimmy. He met a woman named Ollie and they married. Now as sharecroppers, they were paid the same as the black workers. In other words, rarely paid at all as the books always seemed to balance for the owner. This one fellow Jimmy worked for told him to be out of his house in one month because he was planning on leveling the shack and planting on that ground. Grandpa had to leave to go find work elsewhere, another sharecropping gig which is all there was to do in those days in his part of the world.

After he left, grandma Ollie hears a knock on the door. It is the crew with their dozer and they are ready to tear down the shack. She tells them the owner said they had a month, but the guy is persistent and says he has his orders and she needs to get out. She tells him to wait while she gathers a few things, went back inside, and walked out with a shotgun leveled on the crew. She then says firmly they need to get off her land and come back at the end of the month as agreed. They could tell she meant business and left.

Imbedded in this story though an example of what the word privilege means. Had Grandma been black, they likely would not have left. Someone would shoot her dead, or set fire to the house with her in it. If she were black, no one would ask questions. But if you did that to a white lady, the rules were very different.

In Tyler, I remember too well the day Dr. King was assassinated. The police set up patrols outside the downtown businesses and set up checkpoints around the black section of town (yes there was a clearly defined section called Tiger Square.) Now when JFK was killed, nobody was restricted in that way. Or any of the other political assassinations. But the fear, a legacy of an oppressor who had held down an entire group of people for so long, ruled over common sense. I mean come on, riots in Tyler, Texas? Are they nuts? (rhetorical, I know the answer to that one.)

So slavery was knocked down and there was Jim Crow. Jim Crow was finally overruled though some are trying to bring it back today. In order to keep the low wage earners locals needed to turn their huge profits, society turned to a "prison" society. Ask anyone about "driving while black." Illegal searches occur regularly and often. Black men particularly are incarcerated at an alarming rate, and comparison after comparison shows their sentences are proportionately worse as well. Prisons now are big business. When they get out, the only jobs available are those low paying jobs. Whether we call it slavery, or Jim Crow, or incarceration, the net result is the same. The gap between the privileged and those who are not is as big as ever, and plugging our ears yelling "I can't hear you!" won't change that. Some people go on about what Black Americans need to fix this. This is not something Black Americans need to fix! This is something White Americans need to fix! We carry the privilege because it is convenient. That's got to change, and to change it, we must change ourselves. Not just our actions, but our hearts, our systems, our souls. Dr. King said that love illuminates the soul. That's a pretty good start I think.

In memory of Dr. Martin Luther King. May it be sooner rather than later.

My Reflections this Christmas Eve

Okay, set aside the advertisement driven shopping opportunity where folks are frantically buying beyond their means trying to fulfill expectations in others and themselves that can never quite be reached because who can recreate a childhood moment. We got out of that merry go round some years back and found unmatched serenity in the process.

Lying in bed this morning, my own answer came to me clearly. As if the Angel were visiting the wise men to the East, or perhaps whispering into the ear of Elizabeth, a thought crystallized in my mind and became manifest in my heart. Whether we are speaking of Isis who gave birth to Horus, or Mithras giving birth to her child, or the Mary in that stable in Bethlehem, on this darkest time of the year, we celebrate the joyous birth of a new baby.

In my repose I had to smile, as with my subconscious ear I could hear the screams of that little baby. Then I let out a quiet chuckle, realizing Momma even when she is a Goddess is facing some sleepless nights ahead. Oh my goodness though, how that baby changes anyone who comes near. Everyone who comes around wants to hold her or him. Love is given and returned without even thinking about it. Momma has a contented smile, nursing the baby who feeds freely upon that most special of gifts, the milk of her love. Daddy stands there too, watchful and proud. There are other gifts of course, as people pour in to meet this special new baby, bringing what they have to offer. Along with the Magi from the east with their frankincense, gold, and myrrh, others no doubt supplied baubles and perhaps extra swaddling clothes for the newborn. Boxes of pampers are readily welcomed.

It is our nature to love a baby unconditionally, and to have that love returned in kind. There’s something else that happens. In this baby, we place our hopes for the future. We’ve come face to face with our own imperfections, and that of others. Deep inside we know that this child will grow up imperfect as well, for that also is our human condition. But on this day, we give birth to hope, committing ourselves to nurture that dream of what can be. On this day, we offer not only our dreams, but also our better selves. Parents, extended family, and the community enter a covenant to create a world where this tiny baby can grow to be the fulfillment of our hope.

So what does this all mean to me? Normally around the time of the Solstice, I begin to look inward. In the long dark nights, when better to do such a thing. At Christmas (or Mithras or Hanukkah or whatever your holiday), what better time than now to give birth to hope, to create peace, to offer love, to be my better self. In this spirit of love, light, and a newborn hope, let me wish you all Happy Holidays, as well as peace on earth and good will towards all.

Jessica Wicks: Enemy of the State

Yes, today was the day I became an enemy of the state. Do not misunderstand. I’m not talking about the Constitutional Democracy we all grew up with called U.S.A. No, I am the enemy of the usurpers, who today in an act passed overwhelmingly in both houses of Congress will turn our back on the Constitution that has been the cornerstone of our system of law for over 200 years. It will give the president and his minions authority to declare someone a terrorist, arrest them and hold them without trial, judge, due process, for as long as they choose to hold them. Indeed some who might be found not guilty might still have to be held because of their nationality. In addition, such arrests can occur on U.S. soil and included as potential terrorists exempt from rule of law INCLUDES AMERICAN CITIZENS.

Now what are the characteristics we usually assign to a constitutional democracy? Dating all the way back to the Magna Carta, a cardinal tenant of any democracy is the right to habeas corpus, that is a right to a speedy trial in a court of law. This most fundamental rule by which a civilized democracy has now been abolished by this act, investing unlimited authority by the President to decide who the exceptions are without any court proceeding. Our 14th Amendment provides for due process. Abolished in this act. Right to an attorney? Forget it. The constitution provides for who can be considered treasonous. Our Congress and our president ignored that to establish their own criteria.

FACT: THIS CONSTITUTES A POWER GRAB, A MOVE TOWARDS AN EMPERIAL PRESIDENT, WHETHER INTENDED OR NOT. THIS ACT IS ILLEGAL, AND I WOULD SUGGEST, TREASONOUS.

Now folks who know me, know I’m not your average extremist type. I am however an American, one who believes that without our Constitution, we are NOT AMERICA. For a man who taught constitutional law at the University of Chicago, Emperor Obama has no excuse he can offer. He threatened to veto the law. It turns out the only reason was that he wanted to have the final say so as to who was a terrorist. Earlier that was left to the Defense Secretary.

Folks, for all our lives, the army did not make arrests inside the country. Today that changed. So much about this act that angers me, I can hardly begin. Our Democracy died today. Like the poem says, not with a bang but a whimper.

Here is how I am choosing to respond. Anyone who supported (or signed off) on this bill will never again get my vote. Increasingly until much more changes, it does not matter anyway. Big money calls the shots. The only candidates I will vote for are those who opposed this bill or are actively opposing this atrocity. I’ve been a life long democrat. But none of the Democrats in my liberal corner of the woods could bring themselves to support the very underpinnings of our democracy. My president who ran on a ticket of protecting our civil liberties has betrayed us. He will not get my vote. Furthermore I will support every effort out there to overthrow these pretenders to the crown. While I may be an enemy of the state, they are the true enemies of the nation I grew up in. These clowns stole our democracy from us. I pray every day for a hell they can rot away in. They deserve no less. I will not participate in any system that can deny its very constitutional underpinnings. I’m non-violent, but I am no longer a friend to this government. Today you have turned your backs on the forefathers and foremothers. The shame is yours for all to see.

The Day Democracy Died

Now don’t misunderstand. Our system of democracy with her liberties didn’t just collapse overnight. This was not sudden at all. It began decades ago. Let’s look at some examples.

Freedom to assemble: Slowly laws have been enacted below the radar to control that right of assembly. Permit laws were put in place. Yes you can protest this group or that law. But we are only going to allow it out of sight and sound of the people who need to know you are upset about it. Sometimes permits are just simply denied. Other times the crowd size is limited, or charges are attached, or a time limit imposed. You want to protest on public property? Well no megaphones please. Not without a permit. Some guy is sitting over there with powered up amps on his radio, but you can’t amplify your message.

Freedom of speech: Well okay, as long as you don’t offend anybody. If you speak up at a public forum and the candidate doesn’t like what you have to say, he simply has security evict you. Elected officials give tickets out for public forums to determine who can and cannot attend. Can’t have any opposition can we? Now Wisconsin wants to charge people for the right to assemble and protest. Any group over four can be deemed a protest and charged.

Freedom of the press: In wars media are required to be imbedded. Recently they’ve been trying the same thing for protests in our nation. Sometimes the abuse is blatant. Lately a number of reporters have been arrested, abused, or simply removed from covering stories. Of peaceful protests no less. At the same time over the last few decades, the corporate media has gained a stranglehold on the news we hear. Fewer and fewer corporations own all the mainstream media sources. The government allows them to restrict the news most will here. If you are not corporate media, all too often you are not allowed access at all. Meanwhile more and more information is classified, not because it’s a security matter, but because it might be embarrassing.

Freedom of religion: That of course also includes freedom from religion. Look around the country at places like Tennessee, where all out efforts to restrict the right of Muslims to practice their faith is occurring. Our politicians in several cases have sided with these hate mongers, trying to pass laws “against Sharia… hello the Constitution already does that” or to otherwise restrict our practice our spiritual path. Our politics are laden with religious tests in a land where the constitution says we can’t do that.

Freedom to vote: As we speak, states around the nation are setting up legal obstacles to a person’s right to vote. They require certain types of id, make the registration process more difficult for certain classes of people, all to control the types of people who are voting for political purposes. Meanwhile paperless computer systems are the rule in many states with no way to check for fraud by those who operate the machines. Part and parcel with the right to vote is the manner in which elections are carried out. Recent cases have declared corporations to be people, who can donate unlimited amounts of money to the candidate they choose. Combined with an interminably long election season, only a person with sufficient corporate support has a chance of winning an election. This effectively takes the power to elect out of the hands of the people and into the hands of corporate donors. Oh and corporations can donate anonymously while you or I cannot. To make it even worse, in the absence of proportional representation, it is extremely difficult for you or I to run without the sanction of one of the two main parties. This limits the voices that are even heard. Together they create a circumstance where both parties represent their donors rather than us. An issue 85% of Americans can support doesn’t have a chance because the money folks would cut off a candidate for voting against their interests.

This all brings us to the most basic freedom of all. One we inherited from the Magna Carta. The right to due process and a speedy trial is the very definition of a democracy. Without it, we are but one more tinhorn dictatorship, even if we have the illusion of a democracy to pacify our fears. Inherent in our constitution was a series of checks and balances that protect us from despotism. A person can be arrested, but they had a right to a speedy trial. No one can tap your phones without a court review to ensure there is probable cause. Each branch of government served as a check and balance against the other.

Then came the attacks on New York City on 9-11. Out of anger, a rash of laws were passed. Some circumvented civil liberties by a declaration of war, not on a set of people or a nation, but against an idea. It’s a war that never ends. For the world has always had terrorism, and likely always will. So war powers are perpetual. We began arresting terrorists from elsewhere and holding them for long periods without trial. We began to torture people. We’ve taken warlike actions against nations who were never involved in the attack. Then recently, the president ordered an attack on an American citizen deemed to be a part of Al Queda. No trial by jury. No clearance by the judicial branch. A solitary executive action ordered execution without due process.

Then the other day, the final straw, the death knell to our constitution was sounded. A bill was passed by the U.S. Senate and is expected to pass the House. This bill makes it legal for the defense department to identify a person as an enemy of the state, without any court proceeding. They can be determined so even if they have not directly worked against our interests, but were seen to cooperate with those that do. It does not matter if that person is a U.S. citizen or not. They can have the person arrested and HELD INDEFINITELY WITHOUT TRIAL OR A HEARING WITH ANY JUDGE FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIFE IF THE MILITARY SO CHOOSES. THAT INCLUDES ON AMERICAN SOIL WHICH IS NOW INCLUDED IN THE DEFINITION OF “BATTLEFIELD.” In this Senate vote, only seven Senators voted no. Three were Democrat, three were Republican, and one an Independent. In a bi-partisan action the very definition of what is a democracy was undermined. Freedom died that day. Yes Obama can veto it and he says he will. But with that sort of overpowering support, a veto can easily be overruled.

I’m a life long Democrat, or DFL as we call it here. Ever since my first vote at age 21 in 1968, the Dems have gotten my vote. It makes this act by so many of my party to be even that much more a betrayal. Until the political process is corrected in a radically different way, it no longer seems useful. The time has come for that peaceful revolution. I pray it is peaceful at least. My two Senators, Al Franken and Amy Klobuchar lost my vote with their support of this National Defense Appropriation Act. Unless they change their vote to uphold an Obama veto, which the veto is expected, I’ll never cast a ballot for them again. The same is true of any Democrat who votes to undermine that most precious of documents, our Constitution. I now will support all actions to effect a revolutionary change for our nation in a peaceful way. Without a constitution, laws have no meaning, and regulations are but dictates of a society that has lost credibility. It’s a sad day for me really. Still I have hope that we will fix it over time. Not our irrelevant government, but the people who must again demand a redress of our grievances and declare ourselves free. We have been betrayed. Now comes the beginning of retribution for our politicians who betrayed us, and the rebirth of a free people once again. We begin today.

99% of Us Awaken

Today, large crowds are gathering in Washington, D.C. and New York City and in cities across this nation. Our gathering in Minneapolis begins on Friday with an occupation of "Freedom Plaza", the plaza by the government buildings. This movement has struck a chord bigger than anything we've seen in recent times. The other day over 700 were arrested, yet still they show. Why? Years ago I studied the tenants of revolution. The lesson of history was this. Revolution succeeds when everything else has failed. Today we can vote for politicians, yet they continue to listen not to our interests, but those of big money. Our needs have become meaningless to the political folks, the system skewed to ensure power (and wealth) is focused in the hands of the upper 1 % of this nation. For the rest of us? Too bad. We've tried the normal processes, and none of them have worked. So now it is time to take to the streets.

Some people cringe when I use the word revolution, so an explanation is necessary here. Revolution does not have to be violent. Indeed in our recent history the most successful revolutions have been those that were non-violent. When the people share your goals, over time you will prevail. Think Gandhi or King. Or the Arab Spring. That does not mean there is no bloodshed either. We all recall the beatings and dog attacks against Dr. King. Power and those who would abuse it do not surrender easily. But given time and numbers, change comes despite the despots in Egypt or Wall Street.

Over the coming days, power will try to co-opt this movement. We must resist. Today I heard members of the media, after ignoring us for so long, actually claiming credit for our growth. I've received numerous fund raising letters from various political organizations trying to pretend to be behind the organization of these protests growing by the day. The truth is however, that the idea is larger than any of these johnny come lately's. Poor people and working middle class, democrats and republicans, old and young, there is a broader appeal to this call than anything we've seen in recent times. How many protests have I watched filled with a sea of the same old faces, mostly white. But I look at these crowds and I see the diversity of America. I have heard reporters insist there must be a manifesto, something concrete. Something perhaps they can rally around to control? No, the broader goals of removing money from politics and initiating a more fair society is sufficient. Then the trained politicos must earn their money or be bypassed forever, once again subject to the whim of the people, not a bunch of greedy, selfish, hedge fund operators and CEO's who are only concerned about their profit, not the good of the country.

So Friday, health willing, I plan to show up downtown. I'm just one person. One of the 99% of all of us who is fed up and wants my America back. Wall Street, you feel above it all right now. Perhaps the victim of hubris. Of course the inevitable outcome of hubris is the fall. Tragic but necessary. Let the revolution begin.