If I wrote, “Recent political activity, such as the debt ceiling debacle doesn’t bother me at all,” that would be a lie.
From President Obama’s poor chess playing, to Speaker of the House John Boehner’s acquiescence to extreme agendas, to Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid’s whoosh-schwoosy demeanor, all compounded with 24/7 news pundits and radio blabber-heads, I felt like a soul aimlessly wandering in a jungle of madness.
Fortunately I’m pretty good at identifying wild herbs and plants. So when the fragrance of a wild ginger flower spiced the jungle air around me, I dug into the dirt, extracted the root, mashed it with a club (instead of mashing my pricey television screen), tossed the mash into a pot of hot water, steeped the mix until ginger infused the steam, and then drank the tea. My tummy’s nausea ceased and the ache in my heart subsided.
I savored the brew. Maybe I could make sense of the outside noise. “What we’re trying to do is save the world…We’re trying to save life on this planet as we know it today,” Nancy Pelosi; “I’ve got a better idea! Let’s pass a bill to cover the moon in yogurt. That will cost $5 trillion today,” Paul Ryan; “The idea seems to be that if the House GOP refuses to raise the debt ceiling…the public will turn en masse against Barack Obama…. Then Democrats would have no choice but to pass a balanced-budget amendment and reform entitlements, and the tea party hobbits could return to Middle-earth having defeated Mordor,” John McCain; “I’ve been left at the altar now a couple of times,” Barack Obama…”blah, blah, blah.”
None of it made a lick of sense. To me, it’s as clear as a day without pollution: When one promises to pay x-amount in bills, pay it. But I’d guess that we’re so use to polluted air and deforested jungles, that it made sense to complicate a simple issue.
I sipped more ginger tea. I thought about the Tea Party demands; I thought about the progressive demands; I thought about my own budget (or lack thereof); I thought about religious demands; I thought about corporate demands, and I started to gasp for lack of oxygen.
Two cups of ginger tea later a spicy idea landed. Start my own party, the Ginger Tea Party. We have a Tea Party of which I’m unsure exactly what tea they might consume, and there is a Green Tea Party which is the exact antithesis of the other tea drinkers.
I don’t like the Tea Party’s demeanor and I suspect by the nature of the party’s backers, it’s duped a bunch of well-meaning Americans into a steeper brew than they expected to find in their cup.
The Green Tea Party has a delightful platform, and I do love listening to Paul Hawken. But, in the volatile political world, sipping green tea lattes and hoping for meaningful conversation is about as likely as me dropping back down to a size 6.
Enter another kind of tea—something spicy, yet anti-inflammatory, calms nausea, relieves headaches, treats diarrhea, and is considered safe by the FDA—Ginger or zingiber officinale.
This is my kind of party, the Ginger Tea Party.
The Ginger Tea Party Rules:
Members must have the capacity to independently make rational decisions.
Members can never link questionable websites to prove their point or what they heard.
Members may never interject their religious dogma into a debate, nor quote from any biblical, Koran, or other such resources to prove their point or what they heard.
Use of original art, poetry, script, or music is an acceptable form of defining debate.
Name calling is forbidden.
Finger pointing and blaming is forbidden.
Agendas must come from the heart, not from the ass.
Members must understand that Planet Earth is one small dot in a huge universe that is as divergent, alive and relevant as is Planet Earth.
And finally, members must understand the meaning of interconnectedness.