Street Observatory

I dreamed I was put in charge of a street observatory. It was my job to ensure star seekers were given the opportunity to see stars. Visitors would bring stars they had birthed with which to light up the sky. We each reveled in the beauty of the others’ stars. A star seeker would toss a star into the space above the street and we each added our own to fill in the sky. We lit up the street with our own creations. And I felt at peace – grateful for the opportunity to see all of these wonderful stars and grateful to be able to show my own. On occasion, a visitor would bring a sun. These suns out-shown any other stars in the sky. As it was my job to ensure star seekers were able to see the stars, I often found myself redirecting these sun holders, asking them to keep their suns under cover and, when these redirections failed, asking them to leave the street observatory. This was not in my nature, as I appreciated all stars, even those that were way too close and burned. But, with the support of other star seekers, we made it work. Then a sun holder by the name of Ehs began frequenting the observatory. Ehs’ solar flares made it difficult for star seekers to see the stars. As Ehs’ solar flares burned anytime I attempted to shield them, I quickly became weary of engaging. What was once a most enjoyable experience for me, became a chore.  And, although it had been fun for me, I knew it was my duty to block my new friends’ eyes from Ehs’ sun. If I failed to do so, the street observatory would die. So there I was, renewing my promise to my fellow star seekers to help let their stars shine and asking for them to help me to do so. They knew it wasn’t in my nature to block the light of any star, even one close enough to be called a sun. But time will tell if I have the strength to keep my promise.

Pepper-Shaped Hole

I stand and blood leaves my head. I brace myself against the wall in front of me, my arms crossed above my head. I close my eyes. Today will be a good day. I open my eyes to see the hole in my heart on the wall in front of me. It is larger than I expected and an unusual shape, sort of the outline of a pepper with flesh missing from left side. Now I can see my entire heart – different shades of different passions color it’s surface. Each passion blends with the next so that it would be impossible to cut one love out. But here it is all the same, a hole, a void. And I know it’s name. Still, it is not hard to smile in this moment, to smile at this pain. Even this hole is a part of me. It is beautiful because it is a part of me. And, in this moment, it could not be any other way.





the advocacy of women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes.

Equality among humans is a noble goal. As a result of discrimination, many people with different demographically related identities may experience different levels of favor. The problem is not that women, or people of African dissent, or homosexuals are viewed as different. Many of our differences are apparent to those of us who attempt to see the world for what it is. The problem is that those in positions to provide favor would seem to give more credence to these differentiations than they are due. A scientific approach tends to result in an understanding that these arbitrary differentiations are fairly useless when it comes to determining the value of a person. So what effect does highlighting these differences have on those with the power? The natural response when one is attacked is to be defensive.  As long as the attitude is one of us and them, those who are in power, will keep their guards up. Perhaps the goal is righteous, but the approach is twisting the message. Perhaps the approach should be equality for all. When we advocate for women’s rights, men may see this as a threat. When we advocate for equality of the sexes, most of us will recognize that this issue affects us. So, no, I’m probably not what one would call a feminist. I do, however, support efforts toward equality of the sexes. In many cases, this means supporting women’s rights. In few cases, this may mean supporting men’s rights. But this division is means to our enslavement. If we fight amongst each other, we cannot unite.

“Divide and rule (or divide and conquer, from Latin dīvide et imperā) in politics and sociology is gaining and maintaining power by breaking up larger concentrations of power into pieces that individually have less power than the one implementing the strategy.”

Dinner with Nivek

Nivek was a beast of short stature. He was just shy of 4 feet when he stood up straight, which was something he did often in an attempt to compensate. His thin, hairless body was a pale, grey color. His long ears often curled under his chin, except, of course, for when he was with me. Nivek knew from years of experience that I was a safe human. He knew I would not yell at or hit him. It was my aspirations of peace that made me such an easy target for him. Nivek took pleasure in pestering me. Initially, his apparent goal was to get a rise out of me. When he didn’t, he seemed to get a kick out of the fact that I took his abuse passively. He spent entire meals together poking me in the arm with his finger, making groaning noises as he poked. When this got no response, he began slamming his head against the table as he continued to poke and groan. No one in the diner paid any mind to his tantrums. When this yielded no response, he attempted to attack me as a person. On one occasion, he continuously attempted to dip his sandwich in my soup. When I refused, he suggested I was being a hypocrite, “Peace is sharing.”, he said. He enjoyed discussing the most vomit-inducing things he had encountered in the week past as I ate. Again, when I broached the topic, he accused me of hypocrisy. One evening, in the middle of a poking session, as Nivek pounded his head against the table, I looked him in the eye. He froze. I said, “Stop!”. The waitress, who happened to be passing by, said to me, “Honey, who are you talking to?”