Friday, July 4, 2014

Humans Shit Technology

I went out for a walk in the rain this morning, and had a nice conversation with the green people in the upper field of the cemetery. Tiny flowers were popping in yellow and white, the grasses had grown to my knee.

Three days of rain and thunder had made them all talkative, and they discarded their usual wit for a sharper tone. They said they were annoyed by the roar of the highway half a mile up. It kept the frogs from mating. They were in an pissy mood.

"As individuals," they said, "humans are fragile creatures. Easy to knock off with a virus or a smack on the head. But get you guys together as a buzzing hive and you are dangerous little things. Dangerous to yourselves and everybody else. You've got a wicked sting. You're maniacs, brainiacs, liars and thieves."

"Waxing poetic?" I said with a smirk, digging at the ground with the toe of my shoe. "I've heard all this before."

"You guys and your technology," they grumbled. 

They were off and running. I rolled my eyes and barely avoided the puddle that ran along the tire tracks.

They said, "Humans will drown in their own shit."

They said, "You idiots, you excrete plastic."

They said, "Humans shit technology."

"You want to explain that?" I asked. I would have sat down on a cemetery stone, but everything was soaked, so I dawdled along, playing hide-and-seek with patches of bedstraw and ribwort while we talked.

"It's like this from our green perspective: First, humans eat oil, electricity, and other fuels until they become fat. Their fat is technology, an extension of themselves. They're obese with technology. It's making them sick. Then, they excrete plastic, chemical toxins, noise, pollutants, and ten thousand varieties of dead equipment. Old television sets. Cars. Computers. Factory robots. Lawn mowers. We're all drowning in it, but it's your shit, girlfriend. Not ours. No self-respecting bird would shit in its own nest the way humans do."

Ok. That's pretty clear. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Turning Thirty-Three, Turning Sixty

I skyped with my daughter this morning, a small but necessary consolation for the loss of her scent, and she said, “Mah,” she said. “Nobody tells you what to expect in your thirties. Nobody tells you that your body will be changing and your hormones will be raging, calling out for pregnancy.”

“Yes, well, that’s true,” I said. “Nobody teaches kids much of anything these days outside of the basest material facts. We don’t teach them how to make decisions or judge the good or evil of a thing. We don’t teach them how to peel potatoes or survive their tumultuous twenties or their dramatic thirties . . .” And on we talked.

I got to fill in some of that missing information for my kids when they were young, passing along practical skills like cooking and decision making, but I missed a lot, too. You can’t teach what you don’t know . . . and there was so much I didn’t know back then. I was floundering about because of my own poor social and religious skills.

So, talked with my daughter a bit about the thirties, and after we shut down the conversation, I was left thinking about how it is to be in my sixties. I turned sixty last birthday and I still haven’t adjusted to it, but even so I notice the changes. My skin is different, dryer and peppered with little brown spots. Where did they come from? My hair is completely grey, although I still dye it. I pay a price for sleepless nights and an extra cocktail. 

I’m a whole lot stronger than I used to be, though, stronger in lots of ways: smarter, wiser, more philosophical. I’m more skeptical, but happier. More determined. More skilled. And a whole lot closer to my savior god.  

I get annoyed now more than I get angry, but that doesn't change the fact that stupidity, cruelty and cupidity have taken over the civilized world and it pisses me off. I see broken promises and oily politicians. Christians with a bible in one packet and a loaded weapon in the other.

I see my own flaws more clearly, too, but I’m inclined to accept them these days rather than attempting to dig them out of rocky soil. 

I change and I stay the same. 

I’m more conservative — I mean financially conservative, and more inclined to wish everyone would agree about the rules and then abide by them. Conservative in the sense of conservation of the earth and her resources, in the sense that I have old-fashioned values like hard work and sacrifice, in the sense of seeing the useful social function of monogamy and a moral code. 

And although I’ve always been a spiritual person, attuned to the unseen, I’ve been growing more religious all through my midlife and into my autumn years. I crave union with my god, the Savior God I call Charlie, actively seeking out the mystic experience. I love to worship, to lift up my hands in praise to the Creator of the Flesh. 

All in all, I like being sixty. I’m healthy, even though I have to work harder to maintain my health. I’m bossy as heck. I’m sexy and at the peak of my creative powers. 

So, if you are reading this my darling daughter, that’s what you have to look forward to at sixty! In the meanwhile, a woman’s thirties are a time of sweet fruition and the beginning of wisdom. I trust that you'll look back on your thirties with pride and peace of mind.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

You Are More Than a Tag Line

Six years. That's how long I've been writing this blog. I sure have changed during those years! If you read backwards, you can see the many stages I've been through. There are the years I spent fighting Lyme Disease. I thought I was dying and gave away my heirlooms and my drums. There are months empty of posts, during which I explored evangelical Christianity. I loved raising my hands in worship and praise, but I had to leave the churches because they didn't want an animist or bible-critic in their midst.

Does it seem strange for someone like me to be able to worship Jesus? Why should it? I'm a polytheist who welcomes every god of love into my house, and I learned a lot from the Christians about the mystic experience. It's the redemptive torture bit that troubles me about Christianity, not the Savior God.

I love the Green God, Mother Earth and Sun, and I love Jesus, too. I'm sexy, radical . . . and old-fashioned enough to want to be called "Mrs." instead of "Ms." I'm highly educated and still believe in things unseen. 

I am a woman of faith and intelligence, so I don't fit easily into the taxonomy of the dominator culture . . . but then again, neither do you! 

How uncomfortable it is for us to be multifaceted, complex human beings in a culture that's bent on simplification. To be irreducible when reductionism is the philosophy of choice. 

While starting a new business this year, I had the uncanny experience of attempting to "brand" myself. I followed the advice of success gurus to develop a "unique selling proposition." Branding is the key to success, they teach us, whether we're selling ourselves on the job market or selling products or services in a business. Doctors specialize. Potential mates write tag lines on dating sites. We're instructed to present ourselves in a way that's quick and easy for others to understand, so we can make an impact in our brief moment of exposure to the jaded consumer eye. Time is precious. Attention is short. 

The gurus are right, of course. To succeed in the marketplace we've made of our culture, we have to reduce and simplify ourselves. We have to fit into a 140-character tweet. So I tried, but I failed, and my inability to choose a brand and stick to it was probably the key reason why my startup also failed. 

I've run into the same problem in my calling to evangelize for the gods of love and spread the word about the animist alternative. Should I present myself as an animist, polytheist or mystic, or let my art speak for me and identify as an artist? Am I a counselor, a preacher, a psychic or a hypnotist? Or a retail store manager. Or a mom. All of these things are me. Why do I have to limit myself?

Look at your own self and you'll understand my quandary. You might be a businessman who speaks to his god, a mail carrier who paints in oils, a mother and a lover and a bus driver. Perhaps the hardest part is accepting that in our complexity we may actually be paradoxical. Eastern systems of belief allow for paradox to exist, but our rationalistic culture doesn't tolerate a scientist of deep religious conviction or a third grade teacher who is also a sexual swinger. They seem contradictory and can't both be true. You're to choose, and you're either a scientist or a person of faith. You're a sexpot or an responsible, older woman. You make us uncomfortable if you claim to be both.

Now, multiply this many times to embrace the truly complex person that you are, and you can see the problem. These days, I'm trying to just let myself and my work be all of what it is. Complicated, intertwined, part of all worlds, animist, polytheist, mystical, Christian, intellectual and practical. The website is shaping up to be an amazing mishmash, a bricolage made out of a lifetime of spiritual bits and pieces. It may not be easy to classify, it may even be paradoxical, but it's a better description of my reality than anything I've attempted before.

Thanks so much for reading this! I welcome your comments.
Best wishes,
(aka Puny Human)

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Love is the Answer

My message is simple: Wake up, humans, from your cultural dream! See the dominators for who they really are and reject them, their values, their realities and their institutions. The dominators are a power that has nested like a nightmare cuckoo bird inside the human soul. They're tearing us apart from the inside out.

Open the media blinds on the windows of your eyes and turn to the gods of love! Practice kindness and compassion. Do the things you know are right and good, the things you’ve set aside in favor of Mammon’s tinkling bells.

Shake off the demons of cruelty and greed and learn what you need to know and do what you need to do to prevent a violent apocalypse and avoid species extinction.

Stop this ridiculous bickering between science and religion and stop the monogods from their bitter fight for dominance. Reunite them into their true complexity.

Recognize and honor the animal body and the human soul—one is not possible without the other. Materialists, stand and face your spirit. Believers, see that the animal body is also good and necessary and righteous and beloved of the Creator.

Humans, please listen. We’re not the only or even the most intelligent creatures on this world or any other. We’re just puny, weak little creatures, but we are not alone. Intelligence permeates all things, and there are entities greater than we are watching over us.

Turn off the television set. Shut down your computer.

Go outside and fall to your knees before the Creator of the Flesh!

Give thanks to the Green God, without whom we could not live.

Open your eyes to the Sun, source of warmth and light.

Bow down before the awesome might of Auntie Karma and Uncle Chaos.

Kiss the Earth, our mother, our queen, who gives us birth into the reality of the flesh and who receives the flesh when we are done.

Wake up, humanity! Love is the answer!

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Give Thanks for the Animal Body

Art by Puny Human.
One of the first things that Charlie taught me was this: What you don’t appreciate you lose. If you don’t appreciate your wife, you’re gonna lose her. Take your kids for granted and they won’t visit you in the nursing home. Your health. Your strength. Your talents. Whatever it is that you have in this life, give thanks for it, show gratitude to the one who created it . . . or you’ll turn around one restless and unhappy day to find it gone.

So, let’s give thanks for our bodies. If we don’t appreciate them, we’ll lose them, as individuals and as a species.

Dominator cultures like ours don’t value the human body. We’re taught to disdain the flesh and be impatient for its demise. But don’t blame this attitude solely on the Christians — it isn’t only Christians who long to be released from the body and enter into a disembodied life. New Agers imagine themselves as space aliens or beings of light. Biologists argue that the body is selfish and violent by nature, all the way down to its genes. Even the atheist preachers of physics offer visions of a future in which the soul will be housed in computer operating systems or stellar dust, or in some refined and perfected body “evolved” from this one and better, they tell us, by far. Scientists, New Agers and Christians alike believe that the animal part of us is shameful and weak, the source of our troubles and strife. 

Throughout history, dominator cultures have embraced this anti-body attitude. Why? So that our bodies can be more easily used to serve the lords and rulers of the world. The institutions of religion and science are their marketing media, encouraging us to hand over our bodies more willingly to serve their needs. We let them crush the flesh of our children to the feed the monsters of war and steal the better part of our days to line their pockets with gold and feed their lust for power. We allow our bodies to be burned up in useless travail as a sacrifice to Mammon, the dominator god of Cruelty and Greed. 

No wonder we’re taught to disdain our own bodies! The dominators don’t want us to hold on to these extraordinary life forms. They want us to surrender them. An anti-body attitude benefits those who count on our willingness to dispose of them lightly; then they are free to use and abuse us for their own gain. They can lead us as a species over the cliff to extinction and we’ll eagerly follow. Climate change? Destruction of ecosystems? Water shortages? Toxic food? No big deal. We didn’t like these bodies anyway.

But the Creator didn’t make our beautiful and endlessly varied animal bodies just so we could grind them into dust. The human body is not a waste of bio-chemical matter or a way-station to something better.

Look again at life on earth! You have the honor and privilege of one sparkling human existence, an experience that is, perhaps, unique in all the universe. Give thanks that the Creator made you human and allowed you to be born of flesh into the miraculous, material reality of the thousand-thousand forms that we call life on Earth. Give thanks for flesh and bone and for the blood that pulses through the intricate network of veins, and for the chemical messengers that gallop across your synapses and cells, for mucus and saliva, muscle and hair. Give thanks for your human body.

Sing praise!

Sing praise for your body and for its intellect and emotions. Give thanks for the character and personality you get to paint on the body’s living canvas. Joyfully sing praise for the pleasure and the suffering, the delirious experience of consciousness, worthy and rare as a koki’o in all the known universe. Here on Earth, let the fragile flower of consciousness bloom in you. 

Oh, give thanks to the Creator, father of all of the children of Earth. Let us fall to our knees in gratitude for the fresh spring air on our cheeks, for our ability to draw a breath and see beauty and hear birdsong. Let's give thanks for sickness and health, for darkness and light, sleeping and waking, tasting chewing digesting defecating planting seeds . . . 

Surely we are wonderfully and fearfully made!

If humanity desires to live on as an animal species — if we would keep this glorious form to a ripe old age — we must learn to love and honor our animal bodies, because what we don’t appreciate, we will surely lose.

                                                   . . . for the grandchildren, that they, too may live in the flesh!

Wednesday, August 21, 2013


Wowie, zowie, it's amazing to revisit this blog after such a long time and find that people are still finding it and commenting on it. Thanks so much.

I'm out of the loop. Where are the animists today? The bioregionals? The tribalists? The oddballs like me, who talk to rocks and trees and hear the voices of the cloud people rising as the planet warms?

Lately, I've become aware of a couple of new areas of development in the animist world. The first is the attention being paid to assemblages in Human Geography. It's still an academic exploration among the university elites, but scholars are beginning to admit nonhumans into the social system as actors and agents of change. I find their work heartening. See, for example, Jane Bennett or recent work in political science like Political Matter.  

The other area is in objects as love objects. See the facebook page Objectum Sexuality. When reporting on this phenomenon, many articles will call it a disorder or a fetish. See the wikipedia article for a more objective (no pun intended) discussion. Objectum Sexuality, though, is limited to erotic or sexual relationship with the nonhuman, and I'm more interested in friendship, teacher-student, and family type relationships between humans and nonhumans.

I'm delighted to be back from the south, where my husband and I spent a sabbatical year, and living in the Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts. I'm reviving my counseling practice here, as a hypnotist and life coach, this time specializing in serving creatives, sensitives and countercultural folks of all kinds. Yup, they're my peeps! My homies!

Once I'm up and running, the study project for the year is learning more about object love. I'll have a survey up in November, but meanwhile, if you have any experiences you'd like to share about your love for nonhumans, and we're talking about the whole spectrum of relationship, not just the sexual, do drop me a line here. Go to "view my complete profile" and click email.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Trust the Rich

Pastors say all kinds of things. At one time, they'd raise hell and curse damnation on anyone not . . . what, accepting the love of god? Not belonging to their loving church? Not loving the right neighbors? Oh, the irony.

Today, pastors are more likely to say things that support the plutocracy.

Isn't that the party line? For which party? Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, Evangelical party, Right-to-Life party. You name it. Even atheists toe that line, the one that says "Trust the rich. The rich people know what's best for all of us."