Dec. 5th: Josi Azhderian 2003-2008 Rest In Peace...

my family and i have been adopting this beautiful little girl for more than the past year from Guatemala. and though i've never met her, i loved her as my little sister because she was and is, just as much as my other sisters and brothers. we were waiting for her to come home in three weeks. she was going to be the best Christmas present ever. in three weeks i was going to hold her. it was going so smoothly in the adopting, to the point where it was just unreal, as if G-d was setting things into place so easily. we just received her birth certificate, she was no longer an orphan, she was my sister, my mother's daughter, and my siblings new sister.

two nights ago though, Dec. 5th, i found out the most horrible news i have ever heard in my life. i was getting ready to eat some rice at nick's house after he just finished making himself and jehiah pasta. we were playing a show that night. i decided i need to call my mother to let her know i was spending the night at nicks that night, yes i live with my family still. i called her. it at first sounded like she wasn't there. she asked where i was,
"i'm at nicks house."
"okay"
"mom, is everything okay?"
"robby, something really bad happened"
"what?"
"josi was murdered"
"what?!"
i don't really remember anything, other than me rushing outside, dropping jehiah's cellphone, me falling into holding me knees. first came confusion. then disbelief. then realization. then the tears. it was unreal. it still is.
i wanted to destroy something. punch my fist into a wall until i couldn't feel it anymore. bash my head into concrete. jump off a cliff. anything painful. i wanted the physical pain to eliminate my emotional pain, my longing for her to be alive.
i told nick and jehiah what happened. they were in shock and disbelief as well. jehiah and nick kept telling me that if i didn't want to play the show, we didn't have to. i insisted that we play the show, for me to let out my rage. i've never felt so much anger inside me.
anger towards civilization. towards the Guatemalan government for being so ridiculous as to having such a stupid police force, and for how they treat their orphans. anger towards the person who did this for refusing to listen to his heart, refusing to listen to G-d telling him to stop. anger towards the evil one, may G-d murder and torture the one who influenced this person to do this, the one named Satan.
after talking with my amazing friends, and receiving early Xmas gifts which helped. we left for the show.

we arrived. we set up. we played. we were the second band to play.
i gave a speech about Josi, dedicating our set to her, and reminding everyone that no matter what, violence is never the answer.
the set started when i hammered my floor tom and snare into the ground with the repetitive slam 3 times, enter in nick, enter in jehiah, 4 more times, with air between each smash. the song began. my heart was beating as ferocious as ever. beating with sorrow turning into anger and back into sorrow in a circle. Rage into Love. Love into Rage. i've never played like this. i couldn't control what i was doing. i wasn't thinking. i was destroying whatever beats or notes i possibly could. i ended up bleeding, i was content with that. i wished i bled more. i wished i cried more.

My beautiful little sister Josi, whom i was never able to hold. Was three years old when she was murdered.
She is now up with Christ, dancing with the angels, she was never an orphan, she had a family, but more importantly she had G-d, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. YHWH, Christ, and Spirit.
Josi is now gone from this dying world, living now in a world of Love.


please give your prayers to my family, to Josi's birth-mother, to Josi's now-deceased Foster Family.

Thanksgiving.

I was just lectured on about how America was founded as a Christian Nation, with Christian Principles, for the People, by the People. How America was founded on Free Speech and Freedom of Religion.
I've honestly never had so many thoughts through my head about politics and history in random ten-minute hoot of words.
I stood, more-so leaning on a counter, sipping my coffee while this man talked. I could tell he was a good man, with a good heart. He was from Africa. He had quite a lot to say about America, good things, and a lot to say about other countries of the world, bad things. He also talked about 'racist' against Caucasians America is. He talked about certain horrible leaders of certain horrible nations. He talked of how wonderful the American economy is and that the reason why so many nations hate America is because of Jealousy.
They kept trying to drag me in, saying things that they know arouses my thought, makes my blood-boil, and if i think about it long enough it has potential to bring tears to my eyes. My mother obviously knows my political stand-point on subjects, and that if i even mention at all about what i believe in I'd be laughed and ridiculed in a second, so she is silent as well.
The man continued to talk.
Telling me, it's good i have a point of view, but i need to think outside the box and realize that America is the best and the most generously giving country out of the whole world, and all other countries hate us because of that, including the place he was born in.
I stood there, quiet.
I can hear them now...laughing in the back.

-With a confused look at the moth-

hello there Cedar-Ant blog-thingy, i haven't posted on here in awhile.

I'm honestly curious if anyone reads this or not?
But then at the same time, I sort of don't care, because this sort of place has become a nice little 'rant' section in my life where no one can demand of me to shut-up. its sad, isn't it? how the public of the world has reduced to such fear of each other's neighbor, the fear of having true honesty of how one feels towards politics, the world, love, society, religion, so on and so forth to where we go on blogging about. sort of hoping people will read, and understand, and at the same time for certain posts, hoping they don't understand. in the end we just want to be heard, we just want to be loved. it seems like that is the only purpose to being here: to be loved.

i've been having quite a whirlwind of emotions lately, oh lust and the desire of love is such a curse isn't it? i've ended up a Joseph with the intention of succeeding as he did, but i failed, unlike he who just got his tunic torn, i received that tear and worse, when i knew beforehand that would happen as well! hope can be a beautiful angel at times, when the hope is for love and life, yet it can also be a ferocious demon promising love with you getting fooled and falling into a hole. The hope this time, was one of lust, i admit, and like most adventures with lust you end up bruised with the feeling of being taken advantage of. confused with the intense feeling of loneliness i slowly stopped the infatuation of her, though it rises from time to time, i can ease it off allow myself to know "this is only an emotion, it will pass".

which helps, though now, again, im stuck in such a silly debate with myself continually, and for how young and immature i am, all about the pros and cons of celibacy and relationship. And this happens all the while i am having infatuation with certain womyn, womyn which i know would never be interested in me. I'm not artsy, i'm not intelligent, i like walking everywhere, i'm not really crazy about getting my license(19yrs old, sad huh?), i'm usually confused, i stare at the ground a lot, i have a beard, talking about politics infuriates me, and talking about G-d makes me happy and i feel movement, and i like to write stuff in my notebook a lot which i don't want anyone looking at. <- who wants that? and at the same time, feeling extreme wanderlust. i really REALLY want to be back on a Greyhound bus going somewhere I've never been before, meeting folks i've never met before, and seeing and trusting G-d in ways that i never thought possible. i really miss being overjoyed at the sight of a quarter. nowadays i spend my time reading, drinking coffee, being on the damn internet, and jobhunting. i feel horrid. i miss the Mystery of whether or not you'll eat. i feel as if i've become such a different person than how i was when i stepped off that bus back into a place where i grew up, though i received it as a new and unknown territory. i was truly happy with that Mystery combined with a carefree attitude and with ultimate trust in the Provider. i haven't written a poem in awhile...which worries me. steal me.
"Come quick, you Light that knows no evening"

This title is called: Are you Kidding ME?!

A couple days ago I saw this in the L.A. Times::

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-usafghan10-2008oct10,1,3401113.story

Apparently the US is now going to start training Afghan militias to bring order to the crippled country (well who on Earth caused this crippling?). Because when I think "order" I immediately think "militias", not government (congratulations an Anarchist just stated that there is more order in government than militia control, minus 5000 Anarchy points), not democracy.

And take a look at this!
not only did I GOL out loud, but I actually LOLed out loud (am i hip yet internet?):


"Taliban spokesman Zabiullah Mujahid leads the way in Afghanistan. Defense chief Robert Gates said the U.S. would consider reconciling with the group as part of an exit strategy."

Okay, okay, maybe I'm overreacting a bit, I just thought that it was the Taliban we were fighting, because it was them who bombed the towers right? And I thought we were liberating Afghan from the Taliban insurgents that put womyn through horrible laws, not allowing them to talk, show their face, etc etc, and that the Taliban were those radical Islamic folk that hated everyone except Allah? So, i mean there's nothing wrong with working with people that some folks considered as worse as the Nazis...right?

Just know, in 30 years from now, if something else gets blown up by folks from Afghanistan or somewhere else in the Middle East that were trained to "defeat terrorism" or "communism" or whatever the hell the scare is now, you'll know why.

Remember when those commie-tree hugging-pinkos brought up the idea some years ago that maybe we should try diplomacy and talking with the Taliban and Saddam? And our glorious leader stated, without a pause, "i don't talk to terrorists". But now we know, he'd rather work with them, than talk with them, what a humble fellow...(I wonder if they converse using sign language? Well no, because i guess sign language is still a form of talk).


So dear dead souls of Afghanistan, I wish to apologize. While I didn't give the command, I stood idly by, confused, not acting out of love. I didn't act. I was too young to know that those bright light images shown on the television were bombs that were tearing apart your houses, bombs that killed your friends, your loves, your lives. The bombs were dropped for the sake of revenge without intellect, revenge without a heart, I now know, revenge is a curse. Never a blessing. Revenge hurts. Forgiveness heals. I know it will be a long time until you will be able to rest peacefully in the arms of G-d or Allah, whatever Loves name be, just know I'm so so sorry. Words cannot express how I feel I should have died, not you. Not your children, not your parents, not your wife, not your husband. The air strikes may have killed you physically, but your life, and your poetry continue.
















Your tears break dams around the West's heart.

If Aristophanes Could Kill...

"It could be dangerous Art as a real threat" - Refused 'Protest Song '68'

"Art is Individualism, and Individualism is a disturbing and disintegrating force. Therein lies its immense value. For what it seeks to disturb is monotony of type, slavery of custom, tyranny of habit, and the reduction of man to the level of machine" - 'Soul Of A Man Under Socialism' Oscar Wilde.

Imagine a world, with authority on its knees, pleading for survival. Not those in control, but control itself, not those who feed the machines, like you and like me, but the machines themselves. Our war is against Power. The Power that denies a soul to humanity. The Power that enslaves the oppressed to "lack of" and the oppressors to an "addiction of". The Power that continues its war against its ultimate enemies; Thought and Art.

Through Art we find the world. We find the downtrodden, the poor, the weak, the hungry, the screamer, and the fields. We find the factories, the banks, the wealth. Through Art we find the aesthetics of life, along the confusion, hurt, and surprises.

In Art, i mean, sincerely, Thought put into action. Either by pencil, song, film, brush, spoken-word, stencils, those cans that go 'ding-ding' when shaken, and with every motion of life, every thought, every action, every word, we create our own poetry.

With Art we have the ability to destroy the world, in order to create it yet again, though this time the light at the end of the tunnel will become our sun, our light, our guide towards progress; no longer will the light be a "hope" for "change" as some politicians with excellent status and a knack for manipulation say.

We will never reach Utopia, Progress is Utopia!
Real Progress, not some farce saying by some rich fellow willing to sell you chains and proclaim them "ballot!".

Art breeds Progress.
Through the thought-provoking images of Van Gogh, the politico-satirical comedies of Aristophanes, the stories, plays, and essays by Wilde, the Cabaret musicians that laughed at hierarchy and jabbed at the heart of Mammon, the Jesters that were martyred for the sake of comedic-truth by using jest to tear down the gold in the crown to show the dried blood forming around the rubies, the brave women that didn't care about the laws and continued to draw, to paint, to breathe, to live.

Through Art we were able to understand the Nihilists in Russia, the pathetic apathy of the rich, the absurdity of war, the beauty of nature undisturbed by Man and concrete, the longing for freedom and autonomy, the stupidity of power and capitalism alike.

Now, today, where is that Art? All Art is being choked to death by scenes and clubs creating rules, regulations, when all Art is is individualistic means to express, to ask, and to change.
Art is supposed to break the chains, not adhere to them.

Politicians are not the leaders of the world, those continually engaged in absolute Art are the leaders.
Artists like Mother Teresa, Gandhi, George Orwell, Marcos, Aldous Huxley, Arundhati Roy, Oscar Wilde, Joe Strummer, Cesar Chavez, Ammon Hennacy, Peter Kropotkin, Dorothy Day, Emma Goldman, and millions more, today, yesterday, tomorrow. The Knowns and the Unknowns.

You don't have to know how to sing or draw or write or paint to be an artist.
Putting Thought into Action is Art.

Embrace Art, and unleash it upon those in Power, upon those in fear, upon those you love, upon the haves and have-nots, upon the world.

The World is a canvas, your thoughts are the paint, and your actions are the brush.

Honestly? No one reads this thing, so why worry...right?

I hate the punk scene.
I, robby.

I hate scenes, they do nothing but cause division.

"Up the punks" is the exact same rhetoric as "up the skins", "up the squatters", "up the crust", "up the indie", etc etc.
It
Is
the
same.
I'm sick of hearing punks talking shit on crusts, and druggies talking shit on straight-edge kids, and straight-edge kids talking shit on druggies, and indie kids talking shit on metal, etc etc.

When the scene is more important than a message, there is surely a problem.
When a kid who spouts peace, love, and brotherhood among humyns owns a gun, there is surely a problem.
When one complains of this or that band "selling out" simply because of little tiny things, because they didn't live up to that certain person's standards, there is a problem.
When someone spouts about how one is inferior to another based on sex, scene, religion, non-religion, musical taste, substance-taking, non-substance taking, there is surely a problem.

People who are talking against fascism are spouting consistent fascistic-like stand points.
People are complaining about a speck in one's eye, whilst a plank is in their own. (myself included, no need for me to spout ego-centrism, considering it is false, ego is false, ego is false and brings nothing but hurt.)
People point the finger and judge, but sometimes that finger belongs in front of a mirror (myself definitely included, especially at the moment)

I want to crawl onto some mountain and never leave.


Punk isn't a religion, seriously, it is music nothing else.

Why is this bothering me so much??

DIY is cool, though it becomes to focused on one's self.
Humyns are meant to be co-dependent, working together in community.
Individualist hymns do some good if you want a spirit booster, but too much and it becomes a cult where you worship that floating brown piece in your bowl with a hole to the sewers, conveniently located next to sink, or sometimes in some other place.

I'm done with individualism.
I'm done with violence.
I'm done with slogans.
I'm done with scenes.

Music is supposed to set us free, so why on earth are we trying to box it up? Give it rules? We act as though it's some sort of vampire, and if it does wrong, that we must get that darn stake.

Bands are not heroes.
Bandmembers are not gods.
Musicians search for the answers, consistently ask questions, and we do NOT have the answers.
Bands are regular people.
Bands have mistakes, loves, and pains.
Look up to certain aspects of this band or that, but if you just wish to be in total and complete awe of them, listen to every word they say as if it is from G-d's lips, then, my friend, you will be disappointed.

I love you.
I love my friends.
I love my enemies.
I love my family.
I want nothing bad to happen to anyone.

I only want to simply point my finger at the mirror, instead of just pointing it at someone else.
Take me away, someone.

The midwest calls for me.
That mountain is still begging for me to lay upon its rocks.
Southern Ireland's whispers are still ringing in my ears.
Repetition is creeping.
Apathy just walked right through my doorway and waved.
Melancholy has simply become engraved upon me as some tattoo.
I judge way too much, it's a damn curse.
I need to stop being Adam, and quit blaming Eve, it is MY fault.
I'm a failure, wrapped in my own confusion, and alas! I've caused another confusion i believe, risking something dear to me, causing one other to wrapped in confusion, because i just can't keep it to myself.
I'm too loudmouthed.
I'm too prideful.
I want to give nothing but love, but i do nothing but give despair, anger, absurdity, and grief.
It's time i shutup.

Spit on me when you see me next.
if not,
then please
steal me.

whilst i scratch thy face...

And i still want to start a funk/rock/buzzcocks-like punk band. With influences ranging from The (International) Noise Conspiracy, Buzzcocks, Poppy/techno Chumbawamba, the Clash and some good ole funk.

We already have a drummer, a singer, and a bassist, though no guitar.
you should assist?

...and i still need to get a tambourine...hmm

RambleShambles

It's sort of silly how folks turn on you.
Or maybe its just my paranoia? <-- most likely that.

Eh i don't know.

My life is sort of in "waiting" stage right now. I feel very apathetic and lazy. I'm looking for a job. Though if/once i get one, I'm gonna hate it...very much. Unless its a coffee shop, constant caffeine helps boredom and repetition. i don't know though, i found a good dumpster to eat out of, but the constant fact that the band im in is supposed to be going on tour in January/February, and i have to pay my dues continually beat my head in. Don't get me wrong, i love touring and playing music....but i fucking hate working.
^^^
See lazy, horrible person i know.

So I'm basically in the waiting stage, as in wondering if this band, Subvert, will actually go anywhere, or if this is just some local band that will dissolve into a "hey, are we still together?" break-up. I'm really enjoying the new direction we're taking, getting more and more into individualistic sounds than trying to rip off Leftover Crack/Choking Victim, honestly i can't stand anything "Crack Rock" it's just too.....i don't know...lame.
I guess my parents were right, I grew out of punk.

All i really listen to now is mewithoutYou, the Psalters, Against Me!, Refused, Snapcase, Sinead O Connor's 'Theology' cd, the Clash, and some occasional folk bands i've heard lately. But I have really gotten into this new hardcore band Defeater. The lyrics are actually heart-wrenching, 'Blessed Burden' strikes a nerve every time i hear it.

It's sort of nice not hearing angry Cockney accents screaming in my ear with buzzsaw like guitars, and fumbling snare sounds. Though I still enjoy hearing Flux of Pink Indians and Dirt once in awhile.


If Subvert gets anywhere, or even if we are given a chance, then that'd be awesome! Living the dream, etc etc.
but if not, then I can probably see myself just roaming for a bit, probably try to stay at Simple Way, Reba Place, or Bruderhoff, or maybe go help out with the MCC or a Catholic Workers place. That or start up a new Plowshare Movement, if you don't know about them, go look it up, seriously, they rule. Direct Action...for peace....with nuns and priests...its pretty epic.

So I'm still in the "waiting" phase as i've already stated.
I need to find a job. Hopefully Subvert gets somewhere. I really do enjoy playing music with my best friends, it's basically that or wander.

And i think me having a beard is halting this whole getting a job thing.
But i do love it.

So I need to make money, and considering the American economy, jobs are going down the toilet, so, do you need anything to be done around your house? backyard? or anything? any help whatsoever?

I hope you have a good day, and that G-d warms your heart better than coffee does

How to make music with your hearts; Step 1-

The more and more I sit and ponder about life. Life being love, anger, joy, fear, rage, oppression, revolution, coffee (damn you!), and ultimate Shalom(no, I'm not Jewish, though all praise be to YHWH); I wonder why are we here? Are we here to live and die? Or to work, make money, buy a house, have kids, and then die? To consume what is put in front of us?

Over and over in my head is that beloved quote from Leo Tolstoy.
Over and over in my head are the sayings and acts of Mahatma Gandhi.
Over and over in my head is the life of Yeshua, the Christ, how He came to save by servant-hood.

Right now my hands shake because of coffee and the light-headedness of a cigarette. Being in front of a coffee-shop (aren't I just the American leftist?), watching a bird and longing to engage in such a life, in such a beauty, in such humility and meekness, in such wonder. I feel the same when I look at a small child, a longing to live in such wonder and amazement, such innocence; oh to live a life of such living , but forever! Dealing not with genocide, war, the WTO, rape, pain, environmental disasters, but only with my heart jumping at the mere sight of an earthworm wiggling around, or watching a snail in such awe, the slime, the eyes, and let us never forget the shell!

To me, that is more life than what I've been taught.

One may even say that ultimate life is being back in the garden; no pain, no taxes, no serpents, only tilling nature and walking with Love.
But how can we get back to that garden?
Back to the time before Great Abraham?
Before beds, baths, and beyonds? Before porn, hate, and fear?
Before X-boxes, dams, and lattes?

Honestly, the only answer that makes sense to me is by being a servant.

A servant to humanity
A servant to the garden
A servant to G-d
In the end, a servant to love.

To helping and loving others, no matter the cost, even if it means death, being viewed as crazy and completely irrational, or even taking a walk of thoughts (this could probably be harder to some though).
To see beauty in dirt.
To fall in love with a leper.

Being a servant, though, is more than just physical and on human-scales, it surpasses humanity by a Holy and wonderful contradiction. It's a contradiction wrapped in revolution, love, and rage. By believing that the least is best, and by continually trying to humble ourselves, we sense a sort of spirituality going on inside of us...though we can't really explain it, can we?
A sort of spiritual-fulfilling sense brought on by a physical and emotional act of going on a one-on-one battle with our pride, and if we stand true and strong, the victor will always come out strong: with Love being the victor.
Was it not said by the prophets of old that, "G-d is love"? So, if we spread love by helping others, defeating the absurdity of charity by producing definite change, restricting ourselves at times so that others near us may eat, by demanding and fighting for social justice, equality, and food for all, is this not spreading G-d?
In ancient Christian teaching (where I like to reside), they believed that they were G-d's hands and feet (body of Christ), so the well-being of the Earth was in their hands. They believed that it was their G-d-given duty (forget buying a WWJD bracelet) to clothe, feed, and house any and all; no matter what the circumstances may be. An old priest once stated that, "when they come looking for the bodies of the dead innocents, and they do not see our bodies first, then we have failed as a religion", what he meant was that the followers of Pax Christi are, if it comes down to it supposed to lay down their life in defense of the poor, of the lepers, of the orphans and widows...no matter what. No matter the race, creed, nationality, religion, lineage, sexuality, gender...no matter WHAT.
-are you hearing me mega-churches, Mr. Robertson, and Ann Coulter???-
-
And please, I beg of your forgiveness if this seems like some sermon on G-d, or Allah, or YHWH, whatever Love's name be; this isn't meant to preach of G-d, but of life, love, and servant-hood.
-
The more and more I think of starvation across the globe, poverty, suicides, wars, and the whispering genocides along with the shouting genocides banging on your doors, I continually think of pride and crowns: the crowns we all wear.
Some of us keep our crowns polished bright and shiny, dousing it in cologne and perfume, looking as wretched and vomit-inspiring as a skyscraper in a village. We try to make it smell of beauty and wonder, but all that perfume and cologne just ends up getting imprisoned by the reeking odor of blood, pride, selfishness, of thirst for more, of fingers and toes, and at the end of your life you finally realize that you can't really spell 'crown' without 'crow' now can you?

Then there are some crowns that are dirty, unpolished, rusty, with its gems torn out. These crowns are bruised, dented; they are defeated. But instead of reeking odor, they reek beauty. The more rustic it appears the more absolutely, jaw-dropping lovely it is; where sparrow sing songs in wonder for it, where wolves bow in honor of this crown, where the blind see a light, where the imprisoned experience a jump in their heart that they haven't had for years. Those with these crowns hate their crowns. Begging continually, pounding their chest with their fists until it pains them to even breath, for this crown, this curse, this evil metal thing to be lifted from their head, for their chains to their pride be cut, forever!
They wish to no longer be slaves to themselves, but instead be free men and womyn slaves to each other!
(if you read this properly, you would know that this is in no way shape or form a justification of slavery by oppression, nor promotion of this cursed evil by any means)
These are the true kings and queens of the world, the ones that dismantle their own throne for the good of all. It's as if a legion of kings and queens decided to become a community working together, and thus revolted against none other than themselves.
It is one of those true love stories that we rarely hear about.
A love story about the love of all by the defeat of the great evil, pride.

Now let's also remember confidence and pride are very different, though one can happen to lead to another. One who is actively engaged in humility and confidence can change the world for good, without a doubt, especially in acts of servant-hood (Jesus Christ, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, MLK Jr, Dorothy Day, Cesar Chavez, etc.), while at the same time one who is actively engaged in his/her own pride and wishes to change the world can end up doing a far great evil (Hitler, Columbus, etc), even those who have pride and wish to change the world through servant-hood can end up doing a great evil as well (Lenin, Stalin, Castro, Chairman Mao, etc).

Pride is just the nasty little termite that eats at the base of the foundation of our wooden heart isn't it?
Even when someone wants to do good things in the world, pride can just annihilate that, because "me" keeps getting in the way. Maybe when Yeshua was talking about doing good and how we shouldn't, "announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men" was because in-the-end our pride will just get the best of us making a new problem in the hole of another.
If you think about it too, pride is the reason, root, and cause of most, if not all, problems in the world: murder, poverty, theft, sexism, racism, nationalism, classism, war, adultery, materialism, so on and so forth.
So in the end, what is our battle against?
Is it against poverty? Yes.
War? Of course.
But, the root of the matter is pride. It's our pride.

My pride. My crown.
Your pride. Your crown.

So what is this battle we wage against?
It is ultimately against pride.
It is my personal battle against me.
It is your personal battle against you.
We're all in this together.
-
Who has the right to get together and decide the decisions of the world? The World Trade Organization? The US Government? The British Government? The IMF? The Indian Government? The Israeli Government?
How could anyone associated with them truly know what is going on in Darfur? What went on in Gujarat? What happened in the Battle of Seattle? Why farmers are killing themselves? What happened in Chiapas? What happened in the house of an Iraqi family that was bombed? What happened to the fatherless son in Afghanistan? Why terrorists continue popping up in Palestine? What happens in those sweat and slave shops?
How on earth do they know how to deal with it? You tell me.
How do you know how to deal with it?
How do I?
I can honestly tell you I have no idea.
We have to figure out what has caused these horrible things, among the hundreds of others, and if we want to change things we have to get in the mud and in the blood of the matter, not stay in our nice offices, doodling on paper, thinking that we know how to change the world for good.
No.
We must humble ourselves.

Francis of Assisi gave up everything, and the only thing he owned was his cloak; because he wished to engage in poverty and humility, in solidarity with the poor and lepers of his region and the world. Knights, Kings, and Sultans saw this act, and began to take notice of the poor. Francis then began his own little group that helped the poor called, The Friars Minor.
The well-educated Gandhi left his well laid out life to do almost the same thing as Francis, though this time he took on one of the most powerful empires of the world. And this humble old man succeeded, non-violently!

Now am I saying go out, quit your job, live homeless, be poor? No...unless your life may call you to it. Who am I to tell you how to live your life? We've all been called to be servants to each other, though some in different ways. Some may be called to build organizations, build houses for the needy, write books/essays addressing certain matters, talk to those who haven't had anyone to talk to in years, hold those who haven't had anyone to hold in years. Some may have been blessed with large amounts of money, money that can help many needy people, and even save lives.

At the same time, am I telling you to hate yourself, and think lowly of yourself? Of course not! I'm telling you that you are the same beautiful, breathing, funny, charming, loving, and courageous person as one afflicted with poverty or disease. And at the same exact time, you are absolutely different than anyone around you. It's a beautiful irony that I have happened to fall in love with. Humanity relies on interdependence with each other, that's why community is such a powerful force to be dealt with! I'm not asking you to hate yourself, I'm asking you to embrace yourself, as you are. To love your being, and to show your love to your being by loving others just as much if not more.

Tear away the built borders inside your heart against those whom you don't like. Am I saying tolerate? No, I'm saying love. Tolerance is sort of just, "I'll deal with you because I have to, but that doesn't mean I'll invite you over for Scrabble-night". It's as if you're painting over cracked walls, trying to hide that the house is still in pretty bad shape. So we need to love. Forgive me if this sounds like some hippie chant, but in the end it's true.
And deep down you know it is.

Humility is a damn hard thing to accomplish (I always struggle with it, every hour, every minute), and it is possibly the bravest thing one can do in their life. Once you humble yourself, and you look at everyone and every little thing as a beautiful bless; your life will be something Caesar only dreamed of having. With the splendor, glory, fame, and power one may want in life, pride will make you gasp and make you bleed for more; but if you consistently engage yourself in humility your life will be truly rich.

So I'm asking you to do only a couple things, and if you don't want to do them, then don't and I wish you luck in your life, but I'd love it if you gave it at least a mere thought...

I'm asking you to hold the leper.
I'm asking you stop blaming others, and start figuring out ways to help.
I'm asking you to love and cherish every single moment of your life, every beautiful, hurtful, disgusting, and amazing second.
I'm asking you to treat everything as a blessing, and give thanks.
I'm asking you to never stop giving love to those around you, even your enemies.
I'm asking you to pardon those who wish to hurt you; and if a situation is on the rise of you getting hurt, start singing and dancing (believe me, it works).
I'm asking you to destroy pain and hurt with love and joy.
I'm asking you to be irrational, crazy, and out of touch with this world with love.
I'm asking you to consistently intertwine wisdom, courage, and love with every trial and tribulation.
I'm asking you to build community.
I'm asking you to be homeless for a day.
I'm asking you to destroy an instrument of war.
I'm asking you to make music with your life, to write a song, and sing it at the top of your lungs.
I'm asking you to destroy the walls and fences within your life.
I'm asking you to love those in poverty, but not poverty.
I'm asking you to love those in power, but not power.
I'm asking you to fight against power and poverty.
I'm asking you to lay down your life for those you love and hate.
I'm asking you to forgive the ones who have hurt you.
I'm asking you to wage war against your ego, against your pride.
I'm asking you to put down a book once in awhile, and write your own, forget about all the rules in writing, you are the author, life and imagination is your book.
I'm asking you to defend the poor, the orphans, the widows, the outcasts, defend the little snail on your porch, defend the garden.
I'm asking you to "give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed".
I'm asking you to sell all you don't need, and give it to the poor.
I'm asking you to think and sing.
I'm asking you to till the garden.
I'm asking you to humble yourself.
I'm asking you to worship Love, not money.
I'm asking you to hold.
I'm asking you to be in awe.
I'm asking you to live.
I'm asking you to be a servant.
I'm asking you to take off your crown.

I've lost the hip alternative of the summer gang, sorry AP

So for those i know/don't know who have happened to pop in on this here blog-site, i say 'hello!' to you, and i hope you're having a wonderful day. Honestly, i have to admit, i do feel pretty gosh-darn lame i have a blog-site-thingy, it appears it's one of the new stereotypes to Americans, and alas i am fueling it, by:

A. Living within the realm of America,
B. My politics happen to mainly be considered 'leftist' though i personally would have to disagree with that assumption...well...nevermind, just know I'm not a liberal and in-fact i dare say nObama.

And again I say, alas, to the blogg'o'sphere of the new "radical" interweb, because "the Man" took back the streets...the jerk, so now we resort to computers to share, debate, protest, inspire, help, love, redeem, and degenerate those we don't like or do like; depending on their certain stance on politics (maybe this is a reason why America has yet to change??...and im talking about REAL change, not Obama 'change').

At the moment, I've lost my notebook i write on, and this is all i have...sad isn't it? So dear friends, you now have the ability to read whatever i post, isn't that exciting?

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Currently, I'm in a room, bored...out of my mind, and not tired, and my throat is hurting..probably because i should stop smoking before i get really addicted..
certain things keep coming into my mind...G-d, friends, a certain fellow who i miss that wishes bad things of me, politics, Alive With the Glory of Love - Say Anything, the RNC protest and that Amy Goodman was arrested, and Sojourners magazine.
And for an odd reason, I'm very depressed, unless i think about G-d. I'm beginning to think that YHWH is the only thing that's keeping me alive. To certain people, this love I'm...pretty much obsessing over is ticking them off i think, which...is sort of sad, yet understandable. But, I honestly feel a reason to live now. Before, i hated myself, my being, my every breath i take...I mean i still do, yet I'm sort of forcing myself to live, because I've actually found a purpose, though i still don't exactly know what road I'm supposed to take towards this purpose.
Though, this doesn't mean I'm all happy and go-lucky on the inside at the moment. Honestly I still hate myself, I'm easily angered at everything I do because I think its worthless, I hate my damn pride, my damn crown needs to get off. And I always find myself asking, "why the fuck was i born?", I begin to take sides with Job,

"why did i not perish at birth,
and die as i came from the womb?" (Job 2:11)

Yet, whenever i think of Him, or whenever I see a tree, or even a pebble...i get really happy, giddy, and i feel comfort.

" If there was no way into God, I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long."

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Without G-d, i can't really even say where i'd be...probably debating suicide. And with this day-in-age seems like a sane solution to insanity.
Why wouldn't it be? Humans still have yet to learn anything from the past, governments, rape, genocide, imperialism, slavery, when will it end? Honestly? Isn't the sole purpose of learning History in classes is so we won't be condemned to repeat the past? Or is to re-live the 'glory days' of WW2 when America so 'valiantly' rescued the world from Nazism (which history shows, Mr. Wilson was sort-of the reason why Hitler rose to power). Squirrels are more intelligent than humans that's for sure. Just because we're the highest in the food chain, doesn't necessarily mean we're the most logical. Fake elections, presidents in replace of kings, Oval Office instead of the Royal Court, flag-pin instead of a crown, we still live in serfdom in many parts of the world, Attila the Hun is still in power, but this time he's a corporation.
I mean, what the hell guys?
If i didn't find G-d again, I'd be long-gone.

The After-math of the de-civilization...

Imagine a world where...

Walls would be a foreign word to all languages.
Love will be fluent among all.
No longer would there be separation through nations, but instead harmony with various cultures, in various places.
Third-word would only be something out of a science-fiction movie that you and I will see together munching on popcorn.
Women will walk alone in dark alley-ways with fear being absolutely absent, and when men see a woman they will look at a human being with desires, joys, angers, loves, ideas, unreadable imaginations, and beauty; not an object. Workers will love what they do, and do what they love, while they are in control of what they create.
Old billboards used for political ad campaigns, soda, and the latest reality show are now covered with loving hearts, beautiful poems of words and pictures by anonymous poets, and silly cartoons.
Flags from across the world are brought down to be made into clothes for the naked and blankets for the cold.
Football fields are filled with an uncountable amount of people for a free potluck feast, provided by the cops who go dumpster diving for doing part in serving the needy, instead of locking them up.
Mega-Churches across the world become centers for communal living for the homeless, because they finally got to the part of that humble and homeless Rabbi who loved so much that He died.
That we will no longer be told where and where not to go, where we can and can't swim, where we are and aren't allowed to hike or camp, and where we are and aren't able to roam freely.
That we will care less about being loved ourselves, but care more about loving others.
Where we will give thanks to the creatures that live near us, in our midst, and realize, too, that just because they don't wear crosses or stars around their necks doesn't mean that they aren't filled with spirituality.
That we will treat nature as a necessity, not as a resource.
Where confidence replaces doubt, encouragement replaces put-downs and insults, and where humility replaces pride.
Where death is something out of a distant, far-off, fairy-tale novel.