John Bolton has never been one of my favorite characters. We are at philosophical odds. That said, upon reading his new book, I’ve developed a sense of respect for the man’s knowledge and better understand why he wears the feathers of a hawk as opposed to a dove.
My country has truly let me down in its response to this pandemic. At this moment I see the United State of America dead in the water. The engines that keep it running are drained to the point where the status quo is something we’ll remember, not relive.
I understand how corporations are mandated by law to bring profit to shareholders. Fair enough. But at the well-being of humanity? This, in my opinion is where our leadership shows no sign of moral judgement unless it is for profit.
The world changes of 2019 are no better than in 1967. There are leaders without compassion, ethics or foundational morality. Power and greed are the key words affiliated with a growing handful of leaders around the planet. Followers cheer these leaders on, while others cry foul. How does this happen? I suppose the answer lies somewhere within the same reasons for a 1967 power grab and the people who asked for nothing more than a warm home in the winter, a full pantry, and reasons to give gratitude each morning.
…affected clients at the center are families whose children have cancer, cystic fibrosis, HIV, cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy and epilepsy,” must be out of the United States within 33 days upon receiving a recent letter..
And life’s serendipitous imp flew with me from the California coast to our landing in the Sonoran Desert last October. The objective was to physically heal. I’ve spent the last four months among saguaros, palo verde trees, wild coreopsis blooming next to chaparral and creosote shrubs. The massive structure of the Mayo Clinic outlines the horizon to the east. Westerly is the opened desert where coyotes and rabbits play hide and seek, and concludes my days in neon orange and purple sunsets.
But what nature insists on showing us, just like the flowers I captured during my January walk through the desert, is how nature keeps giving sensual delights despite the constant assault that you and I place upon it. These are simple things that unite us. These a pleasures that we can easily have in common. These are treats that come for free. These leave permanent moments while the effort to divide us is impermanent on every level.
A few years back, a man of Filipino heritage, a licensed pharmacist, purchased a local drug store. An elderly woman, clearly of Caucasian heritage, approached this pharmacist with a rant about how she was sick and tired of “all you Chinamen taking our jobs.”
This time last year I wanted to gather my own tribe around my dining room table. I craved their ways of thinking, experiences, wisdom, crafts and talents. But the problem with “my tribe” is we are not very tribal and gathering these folks at one time is akin to herding feral cats — which is why I love this weakly defined tribe.So, instead, I hiked the desert, wandered through the forests, listened to the rivers and ocean, bought mounds of books to read and ponder, and took to what I’ve always done at challenged life moments — threw words on paper in hopes of sorting it all out.