american dream

I wrote this song last summer on my $37 thrift store guitar.  I’m not an average guitar player in any way, shape, or form, but I get the ins of me, out.  I was reading a post by a recent follower of my blog, talking about the American Dream.  If you want to read his post, its called, Hollywood Bullsh-t.  And its really worth your time…

The serendipitous part is that I had been contemplating whether to post my lyrics or not.  Now after reading his post, I kind of feel like I have to as an encore to his words.

American Dream

This kiss was meant for love
Commodity is what they thought of
A strangulation of life
Into prostitution and strife
You held on to me and the American Dream

But there’s no place for fantasies
Among the greedy corporate fiends
There really is no American Dream
All the lies aren’t what they seem

But it must’ve seemed a fair price for souls
We sold out to a sucking black hole

Why can’t you see, this country
Was made by you and me?
Why can’t you see, this country
Was made by complacency?

This kiss was meant for love
But commodity is all we thought of
There really is no American Dream
Cos we all sit by in complacency.

Copyright © 2012 Soul Our Power

Today’s Disintegration

As a person with Asperger’s, I am told, by way of internet research and social reactions from others, that I “suffer” from an inability to read social cues and understand unwritten social rules.  However, as I contemplate my inability to “get along” in society, I question who made up these rules?  The short answer is that majority always rules.  So we have a contrast between what is ethical communication and what the larger populace deems worthy of social communication.

For instance, I have had several conversations with people about proper etiquette when communicating with others in a social situation.  With today’s technology, specifically cell phones, it is now very common for people to communicate with each other face to face, while texting on their phones.  This is common place in modern day America.  When I ask someone for undivided attention, and to not text (have another conversation) while I am talking to them, I get the sense they are looking at me like a four eyed monster.  I am called “rigid” in my ways.

Before I knew I had Asperger’s, for the sake of getting along with people, I researched how to have good communication.  They specifically stated that eye contact and being present in a conversation is ethical and shows the person you care about what they are saying.

I find that having Asperger’s draws special attention to this since we are the ones who some how are clinically classified as having poor communication/social skills.  At least for me, I beg to differ and will even go as far to say that maybe Asperger’s is a cry in our communities to develop better communication between all people.  Less judging ‘books by their covers’ and more engagement and curiosity about who you are speaking to.  What is life without other people?  Lonely.

Below is an excerpt from a book I am reading in my Ethics class.  Copyright 1951.  It seems from a philosophical stand point, communication has been the disconnect in human interaction for quite some time.  And there are many of us begging for a different sort of majority to rule on better communication between people.

I have a long road ahead of me as I realize the word Asperger’s strikes everybody differently.  It is difficult to understand, and from what I have heard from others, there is little understanding about it, and many choose not to even try for the sake of humanity, community, and peace.  Now days they have a good excuse.  We are all burdened by our trials and the fast pace of life.  However, if we do not start trying to know each other more deeply, we are only going to be faced with more disconnect, more strife, more isolation, ever burying ourselves in our computers, TVs and text messages.  I hope those of us that really see this, start becoming more efficient leaders.

However, the reality is, “with great knowledge comes great responsibility.”  Many have the great knowledge, but few want to understand their responsibility with that knowledge.  Hopefully we can become more supportive with one another making it easier as we bear this great burden together.

Here is the excerpt from Karl Jasper’s Way to Wisdom, An Introduction to Philosophy, pg. 25-27:

“In all past history there was a self-evident bond between man and man, in stable communities, in institutions, and in universal ideas.  Even the isolated individual was in a sense sustained in his isolation.  The most visible sign of today’s disintegration is that more and more men do not understand one another, that they meet and scatter, that they are indifferent to one another, that there is no longer any reliable community or loyalty.

Today a universal situation that has always existed in fact assumes crucial importance:  That I can, and cannot, become one with the Other in truth; that my faith, precisely when I am certain, clashes with other men’s faith; that there is always somewhere a limit beyond which there appears to be nothing but battle without hope of unity, ending inevitably in subjugation or annihilation; that softness and complaisance [sic] cause men without faith either to band blindly together or stubbornly to attack one another.

All this is not incidental or unimportant.  It might be, if there were a truth that might satisfy me in my isolation.  I should not suffer so deeply from lack of communication or find such unique pleasure in authentic communication if I for myself, in absolute solitude, could be certain of the truth.  But I am only in conjunction with the Other, alone I am nothing.

Communication from understanding to understanding, from mind to mind, and also from existence to existence, is only a medium for impersonal meanings and values.  Defence [sic] and attack then become means not by which men gain power but by which they approach one another.  The contest is a loving contest in which each man surrenders his weapons to the other.  The certainty of authentic being resides only in unreserved communication between men who live together and vie with one another in a free community, who regard their association with one another as but a preliminary stage, who take nothing for granted and question everything. Only in communication is all other truth fulfilled, only in communication am I myself not merely living but fulfilling life.  God manifests Himself only indirectly, and only through man’s love of man; compelling certainty is particular and relative, subordinated to the Whole. The Stoical attitude is in face empty and rigid.

The basic philosophical attitude of which I am speaking is rooted in distress at the absence of communication, and in the possibility of the loving contest which profoundly unites self and self.

And this philosophical endeavour [sic] is at the same time rooted in the three philosophical experiences we have mentioned, which must all be considered in the light of their meaning, whether favourable [sic] or hostile, for communication from man to man.

And so we may say that wonder, doubt, the experience of ultimate situations, are indeed sources of philosophy, but the ultimate source is the will to authentic communication, which embraces all the rest.  This becomes apparent at the very outset, for does not all philosophy strive for communication, express itself, demand a hearing?  And is not its very essence communicability, which is in turn inseparable from truth?

Communication then is the aim of philosophy, and in communication all its other aims are ultimately rooted: awareness of being, illumination through love, attainment of peace.”

You are different

Some don’t know the cost of being different.  People don’t know how to categorize you in their life, so often you just get stuck to the side in the miscellaneous pile like a random receipt that might be of some value to them someday.  Its because when you are different people struggle with understanding how to identify you.  Like an Indigenous tribe seeing an airplane for the first time.  They might call you a bird even though you are giant hunk of metal.

Being different is not something I can control or turn off, but now that I’ve learned I have Asperger’s, somehow that has caused me to embrace it more.  I guess it made me realize I can go my whole life fighting who I am trying to blend in like a giraffe at a mouse parade, or I can turn ‘about face’ and rest in myself and figure out how to be different and okay with that.

I wear a wrist band made out of my daughter’s sock top to remind me of her strength and inner beauty, and to remember that I have my own.  I have to own my own, especially in the place that causes me the most pain and anxiety; public.

In a life I used to live, my desire issue was to be like others, so much so, that I tried to please everyone in every way.  Making them smile made me smile.  Not rocking their boat meant peace on mine.  And if I could earn even a morsel of praise or approval of my efforts, I could live on, knowing I am now worthy as though they somehow had that authority to tell me so.  And it meant the world to me, at least for a nano second over a insignificant particle of life.  Vanity and shallowness will do this to you and keep you ever searching in an infinite sea of possibilities of what will *hopefully* make others happy.  Yes.  Hope can torture you if your agenda is misaligned with the proper pole.

Now days, I am caring less of what anybody thinks of me, good or bad.

But don’t mistake that for complete lack of care.  I care more for humanity than anybody could know.  Many of us do.  I just don’t care to get an emotional high off of people anymore.  Peace feels much better.  Knowing I am always at home inside, feels much better.  Knowing I can’t please everybody or even one person all the time is a relief that has set me free from an endless effort I will never be able to master.  A waste of my time.

Now I can focus on doing what I am meant to do and what I love to do, which will reveal itself in time and need, maybe in the next moment when my daughter asks me for something.  Or maybe someday I will write some sort of book, or finish a degree in Psychology.

Now I ask myself, “What can I give that others need” instead of subconsciously running an old program of, “how can I please you this time?”  There is a difference between a servant and a slave.

desire

I live in the gray areas everyone hates,
I live in the twilights the light and dark create.
I sit-in connecting all the dots of the universe,
I walk the path between, in song and verse.

I can’t sit still, in the light or dark,
Plagued by the devil’s curse
Worn and wary of my own aching heart,
And the world’s chosen silence.

I live in the gray areas everyone avoids,
Watching everyone on spiritual steroids.
You won’t say a word, to wreck your illusion
Your pride still greater than the pain of your confusion.
But I see.
I see.
I see straight through
I see, straight through,
…..you.

The light and dark everyone loves,
The light and dark that woo you
Everyone thinks they’re right
Everyone that knows you’re wrong.

The ever, never, ending romance
The serenading call of desire
Draws you out of your soul
Nothing left inside but a void, a hole.

But I live in the gray areas everyone hates,
The places they run from the things they create.
Can’t sit still must hide from pain.
Couldn’t see their tears as rain.

Copyright © 2012 Soul Our Power

Prairie Dog Abuse

I watched the city workers shovel dirt over their holes.  Mostly likely, they’d already poisoned them and were just burying them in their own homes.  It startled me to watch something from the city bus as we entered the highway, I’d heard so much about but never witnessed.  I can’t figure out why they needed to kill these prairie dogs.

On the way home, on the other side of the highway across from the prairie dog home I saw that morning, the same thing was happening.  Only there were no workers to be angry at.  Just small grey cages over the holes incase any tried to escape?  It was all I could do to not cry on the bus knowing they were all dead beneath the ground.

And I remembered a story a long time ago about a man who buried his Rottweiler’s puppies alive.  They charged him with animal abuse.

So I am just curious, if the Rottie owner had poisoned them first, would that have justified the situation?  And if not,…

Why does the city get to kill so many prairie dogs every year?  Is relocation to open space a little too humane for some to stomach?

I am heartbroken.  I watched these prairie dogs from the bus every other day last semester as I came and went to college.  Now there are just small brown mounds of dirt.  Empty and without their cute, fat little fuzzy bodies, squeaking their cute little barks to one another.

I grieve in this society.  Its so heartless…