Luka

They only hit until you cry
After that, you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
You just don't argue anymore
          --Suzanne Vega, Luka

Sometimes he swore the wind had colors. Sometimes it did.

Sometimes he'd talk to a person looking lost on the street. Sometimes he passed.

Sometimes he felt like Lancelot, waiting to kneel to the first person who bested him. Sometimes he would never to bow to another.

And sometimes the world marched red with the enemy against him. Hand tightening sword, he would back against cold stone and beg for the assassins to creep in and pull their shadowed blades. He'd collect their heads. One by despicable one.

He pushed the coffee dispenser and bubbled his cup full.

"Good morning!"

"Morning," he said.

"Thank God it's Friday!"

"Yeah," he said.

"How are you?"

Red, red world. Squirming with slinking shadows.

"Fine.... And you?"

Devonian

I collected
your sea spray
on my tongue
warm inland
trilobyte waters
teeming with
fossils
gulping
air-traded air
to gasp
an exquisite
extinction

Rhododendron

"How's your signal, Captain?"

"Some interference. Radiation levels are green."

"How's the weather out there?"

"Sunny day at the beach, Control. I should've brought my sunscreen."

"Remember. Binary star system. Two applications."

"Ha! I'll keep that in mind."

"Are you making good headway?"

"Fair. The surface is less rocky here. Sand-like."

"Any concerns?"

"No. I don't think so. I'm deflecting the material maybe two centimeters. It's not even up to my toes. Just a little tiring."

"Don't take chances. If you get in trouble, nobody can get to you very quickly."

"Roger that. Too bad we haven't explored this quadrangle. The rock formations are beautiful."

"No mountain climbing, Captain."

"I'll try to restrain myself."

"Are you reading static, Captain?"

"Affirmative. I'll tap my helmet to clear it."

"Better?"

"Maybe. I'm passing through a channel in the rock. The surface here has formed long, low dunes. Kind of pretty. Oxide layers are exposed. It looks like yellow and reddish rainbows."

"Very nice."

"I'm through the formation. Entering some kind of circular plain. Ahead, I...."

"I'm losing your signal. Did not copy that. Please repeat."

"...seeing...."

"Captain?"

"...stand by...."

"What's you're status, Captain?"

"...approaching...."

"Captain?"

"...wait...not right...."

"Captain, I'm losing you. Are your biometrics elevated?"

"...intermittent radio in this formation...object...in the middle of the...."

"Captain?"

"...no...need to get out...not right...."

"Captain, do you need assistance?"

"...no life here...."

"You heart rate appears to be--"

"...not right...I'm...."

"Captain, recommend you abort the survey. Abort the survey."

"...rhododendron...."

"What?"

"...a rhododendron...just like on Earth...."

What Do These Things Have in Common?

1. The Taliban imposing strict Islamic law, then Taliban leaders privately indulging in many of the same activities Islamic law forbids and/or enjoying shockingly superior living conditions.

2. A U.S. legislator creating laws while taking bribes and misusing taxpayer dollars for personal gain.

3. A business owner asking employees to put the good of the company first, then surfing pornography for hours on the internet in violation of his own policy and internet controls.

4. A parent becoming increasingly annoyed by a child who doesn't turn out how the parent wished, then criticizing or withholding approval of the child.


Do you see a connection? Although widely differing in degree, there is a single human trait rearing its ugly head in these examples. A universal desire having roots in every one of us.

Control.

People love the power to control. And once they have it, they wield it to force the world around them to suit or benefit themselves.

And the more power of control a person has, the greater the danger he or she will use it to satisfy the person's every little whim.

How do we control others? We can do it with raw force--physical or mental intimidation. But raw force requires one-on-one contact, so it's not terribly efficient. Even if you're a dictator, your soldiers need to have face-to-face contact with the controlled population to be effective.

But raw force is easy to spot. I'm more concerned about the delicate tools of control. Control that is clothed in false morality. Cultural mores fit into this category. Whenever a culture imposes rules and expectations which limit one group's freedom, there will always be another side to the equation. There will always be those who benefit from someone else's loss.

Take, for example, cultures where women are treated as inferiors. What do men gain? Control over where women go or not go. Who they can interact with. How they can dress. The power is capped by taking away the means for women to break away. Forbid the ownership of property. Forbid education. The bottom line--men enjoy the knowledge that their whims will be satisfied without the limiting and frustrating work of respecting another's autonomy.

Organized religion can be another delicate tool of control. Even things that on their face look innocuous can have questionable motives, like dietary restrictions. Can't eat meat on Friday? Can't eat pork? Why? Perhaps one group is asserting influence over another group's most basic life functions. Even when you eat, you are reminded of the message and created influence of the clergy. If you step back and look objectively, can you find things taken with this power? In the history of the world, religions have demanded attention, time, labor, money, bloodshed, and special treatment for its clergy. How many times has one group destroyed another under the guise of religious righteousness?

Maybe on some level, humans as a species want to be controlled. It provides comfort. It provides order. But maybe there are better, more lofty goals than comfort and order. Don't be fooled into sacrificing yourself for another's gain. Look for control and those who attempt to wield it. Although it can be a tantalizing prospect, one person never has the right to thrive at the expense of another. Fight it when you see it. Stand up and say no!

Don't let yourself get hosed.

Cemetery Reflections ~ Touch

Inscription

MARY
Wife of Samuel Harris
Died
Jan. 23, 1863.
In the 73d year
of her age.

CEMETERY REFLECTIONS: What would the sleeping generations tell us about living? What would we go back and tell ourselves?

~Don't be afraid to touch, physically and figuratively. The distance bridged will be far more vast than the space your fingers reached.

Thirteen

Orange sun poured through the trees where the robins sang their evening songs.

"My dad's waiting for me," she said.

"Yeah," he said, spinning the bike pedals backwards and catching them again with his foot.

"You wanna meet here again?"

"Like tomorrow?" he said.

"Sure." The wind sprayed hair in her face. "If you want."

He nodded at the ground. His face turned, and he stopped twisting his toe in the dirt.

"Any time?" she said. "Or should I--"

"I'll watch for you."

She cocked her head. Shadows laid across his green eyes. "Well, alright then. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Night."

She turned to the long dirt road down to the farm. Young summer corn flapped by her ankles.

When she reached her room, rose light glowed across the entire sweep of horizon. His silhouette perched dark up along the road. She sat, invisible behind the glass, and saw him lean over his bike and surge away.

Under the stars, she checked for his black shape where all of the distance lines joined. In her dreams, a boy with grass-stained jeans watched over her.

Fun Friday - Breakfast Club

It's Friday...it's the day before Valentine's Day...and it's time to mix it up!!

I'm thinking we could all use some Breakfast Club time. Up for it?

Here's the deal. I'm going to ask a question. The first person who jumps into comments is invited to answer it. Then, ask your own burning question, which will be picked up by the next person who comes along.

THE FIRST QUESTION: What song means the most to you in this precise moment in your life? If there's a video for it, feel free to include a YouTube link with your answer.

Let's lounge in a loose circle and rap.

(And Happy Valentine's Day!!)

Abdomen Shine

vivisection sky
unstuff the tenderloin clouds
scrub my organs clean

Why Don't You Come Over?

"Don't open your eyes," she said.

"Okay, okay. Geez," he said. "What are you going to do?"

"You'll see."

"I don't know about this."

"Trust me," she said.

He flinched at each little sound. "I don't think I've told you yet how much I don't like surprises."

"No, you didn't."

"Well...I don't like--"

"Shhhh!" she said. "Now, breathe. Nice and slow."

He drew in, and a scent tickled in his nose.

"Wow," he said. "That's really nice."

"Don't talk. Just see."

See?

Okay.

He concentrated on the blackness. Dipped into it. Like charcoal bathwater.

"Do you see it?" she said.

He squeezed at the dark harder. Clutched it. When he felt the tension pinch in his forehead, he spread-eagled onto it and surrendered.

"Here," she said. "Try this one."

Another world pushed at the edge of his vision.

The emptiness tinged with a color. Soft purples. Points of scent poked beneath a gossamer curtain.

"Mmmmm. I like that one," he said.

"Zinnia," she said.

"I can see it."

"Okay," she said. "Breathe again."

The scent fluttered away. The blackness thickened.

"Are you ready?" she said.

"Mmmm hmmm."

"Now," she said.

Dusty age and intimacy blossomed. Secret places. An attic blanket of summertime.

His mind tasted the word. Rose.

The barest touch of her lips brushed his.

His skin shivered from his neck to the backs of his legs.

"Don't open your eyes," she whispered.

No.

Not for all the world.

Window on a February Train

He sat on the train and watched the white and gray-brown world unroll.

The wheels on the rails clicked. Steam smoked from houses, and somewhere deer bedded in the patches of forest between.

He thought of himself. And people in his life. He let the threads flutter, not knotted down. That was something he learned.

And as dark water trickled by the highway near the station, headphones surrounded him with music like memories. He walked on the rising notes. Lifted. And lived far, far beyond the season passing by.

Two Skies

I traced
the horizon
on a day
with two skies
ribboning
the Earth
between music fingers
hummed
with no path behind

The Tale of Meow de la Meow

Sometime in 2007, an emaciated black cat showed up at our neighbor's house.

They are animal lovers with several dogs, so they provided a place for the cat to sleep in their shed and began feeding her. She thanked them by having a litter of kittens!

Here she is prowling around in the summer. After kittens. Looking pretty strong and healthy.



On Christmas Eve 2007, late, a black cat jumped onto our kitchen window sill. It was our neighborhood friend.

We put out a little dog food, which she ate, and dared a quick pet through the open window.



Over the course of 2008, she warmed up to us bit by bit. She approached me in the yard and let me pet her. She was a little more apprehensive around the kids.

Then, this winter, she visited our window more and more (including on Christmas Day!). One faction in our house (Aine and our younger daughter) started calling her Holly. Another faction (me and our older daughter) named her Meow Meow. One fateful day, we actually brought her into the house. Pretty soon, we were feeding her every day and letting her nap in the warmth for the evening. Then, heartbreakingly, we would put her out into the cold.

You know where this is leading, right??

Anyway, Aine talked to our neighbor and learned that she wasn't bringing any of the cats in the house because of the dogs. In fact, she was taking them to the Cat Angel Network and was trying to get them adopted. However, as of yet, no luck.

Well, that did it.

Meow Meow (aka Holly) is the newest member of our household. Neither of us ever owned a cat, so it was new territory. Happily, she was already litter trained and has really been a treat. I think it's in no small part that she chose us rather than the other way around.

Welcome, Meow Meow. Enjoy your stay. :)