Saturday, March 21, 2009

The Most Ignorant Pope || A Monkey's Ass

This new beady-eyed Pope is one of the most intolerant and uneducated leaders the Catholic Church has yet to produce.

Every time he opens his mouth only the garbage of intolerance gushes out. As he parades around in his gay clothing, he has managed so far to insult everybody. When I see photos of him, his smile is like that of a badger and his eyes are dead little stones with no light, only rage and judgement. Of all the people in the world who need to shut the fuck up, this is the number one guy.

His latest tirade of racists supremacy and Nazi ideals is directed at the tribal spiritual practices of Africa. He tells the world that these people who believe in and practice their traditional tribal religions are bad people who need to be converted to the faith of this enshrined Nazi bigot parading around as a religious leader.

Many indigenous people had hoped we had long ago passed the point where traditional tribal spiritual practices were being condemned and judged by a Christian majority. However, since he crawled out from under the dark rock the old Pope kept him under, this new Pope has renewed the war against traditional tribal belief systems.

This is a retrograde philosophy at its most dangerous. His smug finger pointing should be taken as a personal insult to every person of reason and intelligence.

The world has so many ineffective world leaders. Clowns and punks who disguise an agenda of intolerance and hatred in educated words and phony appeals to unity. So far, the career of this mousy little man has managed to insult everybody. It is perhaps the strangest ascension in my lifetime, this rise of this ugly and hateful man.

Tribal people have their own religions. After many lifetimes of trying to get the language used to talk about indigenous religions cleaned up, we have this new international voice which has dragged the discussion back into the gutter.

This Pope is a sorry, sorry human being. I am 100 per cent against him. How much damage will he do in the free world before real justice catches up with him? The Church appointed a Nazi to head the Church. And he is moving right along with the supremacist views and racial hatred promoted so destructively by the Nazi culture.

He is a dangerously out of touch clown in red slippers. I ask no forgiveness for speaking in a harsh way. Sometimes polite language has no urgency or emotion sufficient to express the outrage society should feel to have this monkey's ass on the world stage. I am 60 years old. I can count the decent and effective world leaders we have had in my lifetime on one foot.

I have had, for the last several years, an experience of living within a Catholic culture. What i have learned here in Italy is that nearly every sensible adult working man and woman could care less what the Pope and his talking ass have to say about anything. On Pantelleria the head priest thinks his job is to tell people what to do. He thinks he is some sort of godfather or boss on this tiny island. He is so out of touch and closed in his mind that some of us wonder if he even has an asshole. He sticks his stinky assless face into every detail of daily life where the answer is almost always no. As in the rest of the world, sensible people pay him zero attention. The problem is the children and the innocent. There are so many kind and innocent people who just know no better and should not be blamed for looking to the church and its leadership. these are the one who are being betrayed. I could care less what Pope and his talking ass have to say, but I see the harm that it does to people unable to muster up a judgment against an office they consider sacred. It is the hope and hard work of the most innocent among us, perhaps, that holds the daily work together. the cynical truth is the Pope and his talking ass know this very well. they know to a certainty, a cynical, drug-dealers certainty, to whom they speak. Didn't they use to drive wooden stakes into the hearts of vampires? Now they make them Pope.

I have looked now at many photos of this Pope. Examine his eyes and hands in particular. His hands always look like claws, like they are trying to grip your throat and choke you. His hands are never open, they are always claw-like, threatening and filled with anger and tension. His eyes are the same. He has beady, unsmiling eyes, regardless of what the rest of his face is doing. Those are not the eyes of a man at peace, or of a man who believes in peace.

The innocent are being betrayed.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Shadows Breaking Into the Light

For American Indians the news seems mostly to be bad news. Today we read a report which tells us that while most American people are living longer lives, American Indians are not living as long as a generation ago. American Indian suicide is the highest in the country, elevated way above the suicide rate of all other Americans. This portfolio of darkness is carried throughout tribal communities. Understanding problems like this seems to be the best work we could make in these days. The problem with shadows is that no one wants to turn around and look at them. The people who count these numbers are just number counters, they offer no help. In my lifetime, what has been lost is astonishing. Looking back I am stunned. Many reservations of the American Indian have no news. They don't even know what you and I know. The vast majority of reservation residents probably receive little or no news about what is going the world, or 20 miles away. You and I are informed. Today you and I know American Indian babies die at a rate 44% higher than just ten years ago.

Next week we arrive in Milano to make ceremonies around the Equinox. We will go inside the sweat lodge and make the dream singing in several places. I have appointments with several of my doctors. Possibly I will have some days in the hospital in my continuing struggle against a relentless virus that is in my body. At the moment my ability to walk is about 300 feet. Something is wrong with my legs and they have stopped working in general. I go, but I go low, as the old timers used to tell me. Go Low. I can't drum as long as I used to be able to. My arms have problems of their own. My body was pretty well trashed about 10 years ago in a crash with a big truck on the Hopi reservation. I don't feel like an old Indian ready for the drop anytime soon, yet my health situation has slowed down and limited the opportunities which could be present for more ceremonies, more songs, more prayers and more sweat lodges. This is my work and I will make it up to the end, doing that work. I can't shake the strong feeling I have that the work makes a difference. No matter how bad things may seem, perhaps they would be much worse if not for these prayers and ceremonies that our people make as often as they can.

Inside that sweat lodge we talk about life and death. Inside that sweat lodge we are seeking life. We are seeking the knowledge of the universe, which is different than the knowledge of the family, of the job, of the statistics which say we are all dead or dying. Many of my old Indian teachers were in their nineties, a few over 100. One of my dearest teachers passed way recently and he was only 63. His father was almost 100 when he passed.

If I could show you a single image of what is going on all around the homes of the American Indian people right now it would look like hell itself, it would stun you and reflexively you would look away, change the channel, blink. Yes, there is and are some great beauty, some gathered space, some shining moments. These two possibilities are both true at the same moment.

You cannot change another person. You can change yourself. If you do that, if you wake up, you will know what you can do. There is something there you can use. It is the same for the people, these sacred relations of my mystery life...there is something there they can use. They can find their way. We awaken one by one. Into a life. It is right there.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Change The World

What if the world changed? If you, yourself, stay the same, you would not notice.

Change begins within. Today I took the little bus that goes along the winding sea road from Rekhale to Pantelleria Village. Down the line an elder, a man got on the bus. he seemed 75 or so, could have been 95. He seemed ancient. He was wobbly. He was dressed in an impeccable Italian wool suit, perfect for the weather today. he had a little beret hat and good Italian shoes. he was so impeccable, and so old school. i was impressed by his spirit, by his impeccable sense of being correct. I just turned 60. I feel the burn. getting old is not for sissies. While I have burned, I have grown.

In the last Blog I talked about the murdering gangster leonard peltier. Some people told me my account of his worthless life and the liars and fools who support him was not accurate. Looking at the sun and pretending it is the moon is a common sickness in society. If the truth is the truth, but liars and clowns and bullies can't see it, is it still the truth? Short answers, yes.

The American Indian community in particular has an enormous assortment of clowns and monkey's asses, with names like "freedom warrior" or "big canupa" parading around using testosterone instead of brains, using noise instead of respect or silence, using the shaking fist rather than the eagle feather. At times it seems like being and American Indian means you have to walk hip deep through mud and darkness just to see the light far away in the distance.

I recently reviewed a report which shows that American Indian young men kill themselves at the highest rate of any minority, and at a rate far higher than seems real. the innocent and tender American Indians, worn down at last, take this escape while the blowhards and rifle pointers and fake warriors find reasons why you should give them money and believe in their warrior wisdom. My old tribal teachers called the sacred tribal life the shrinking path. They called it this because those who should stand up and be counted in the sacred light are lost in the shadows of their own rage and denial.

Even if the world changes, people like this will not in their dark homes everything remains the same. And the world appears to have not changed at all. That seems to be the message for this week.

I learned something watching the old Sicilian. Something about silence and something about style. Life is sweet, and I keep dreaming. Maybe one day, the warriors will shut the fuck up and let the children speak, let the women breathe and let the elders bring the light around.

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