Make Space for Beauty, Love, & Peace

Away from the Realm of the Ransackers

RUMI

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Recently, I received a message from the place where I have a storage locker: just a small one, five by five feet where I store memorabilia from my life since Casey was killed almost 20-years ago, now.

In my storage locker, I have thousands of letters and cards, beginning the day after he died, until I last looked in my locker before Covid. I also have some photos and awards I have been given for my work for peace. Odds and ends of a busy life which I didn’t have room for in my living space, but I also did not want to toss them, sell, or give away (yet).

PS: I also have three bags stuffed with various protest/campaign shirts. I am hoping one day soon to have small quilts made out of them, one for each grandchild—if anyone knows anyone who does such things.

When I got the message from the storage business, with my finances, (or lack thereof) being in the pitiful state they are these days, I was sure the card I had given them was canceled, over the limit, or whatever, but that was NOT the case. I was informed that the night before, the lock was cut off my unit and it was one of three that was broken in to that night! They assured me that they had secured it with their own lock, so everything was okay for the time being.

I was able to go down there a few days after the breaking and entering.

I have no idea if anything was stolen, but the culprits ransacked the shit out of it: they made it a perfect rat’s nest of chaos, and probably for nothing, since I can’t imagine there is much of a market for condolence cards, or letters of support. At first, I had thought they stole Casey’s military medals, but I recently discovered that Casey’s dad has them—which was a bit of a relief. Even though I am not very into these advanced Boy Scout merit badges, they mean something to others in my family.

Napoleon once said,

"All men are enamored of decorations . . . they positively hunger for them."

So by developing the Napoleonic system -- the medal business -- the government learned it could get soldiers for less money, because the boys liked to be decorated. Until the Civil War there were no medals. Then the Congressional Medal of Honor was handed out. It made enlistments easier. After the Civil War no new medals were issued until the Spanish-American War. From” War is a Racket” by Major General Smedley D. Butler

I have been reflecting that the “three'“ young men who committed these petty-crimes were a metaphor for the ransacking my life has taken over the past few years.

Along with most of you, my life looks very little like the life I was living pre-“Covid.” I was traveling to mostly interesting places to network with others and try to do the most I was able to do to make the world a better place. Besides this work, I was also working with interesting people who were supporting me with a monthly stipend, as I have mentioned here several times. When The Magic Needle Juice™ scam was foisted upon the world and I refused to inject the experimental mRNA toxin into my body, my former “professional” life ceased, and I wandered into this new chaos: personally, locally, and globally.

I have finally come to the conclusion that there is very little I can do to change the world, so I am working this year to change myself in to someone who is as impervious as possible to the greedy, psychotic, chaotic whims of others by doing what Thoreau encouraged us to do; “Simplify, simplify, simplify.”

“Simplify” my physical-space. Keep only what brings me closer to beauty, love, and peace.

“Simplify” my personal-space: realize that I am only the main character in my own life, and, at best, a co-star in the lives of others, or a bit-player, or merely an “extra.” Nothing is about me, unless I choose to make shit about me.

“Simplify” my inner-space by realizing that some people, or ideas, or pressures just need to be let go while retaining and sticking with what makes me, me: my commitment to truth, my sarcastic sense of humor (coping strategy), AND my dedication to the occupied/oppressed people of the world.

I don’t need any of that extraneous baggage in my storage locker and I don’t need any of the extraneous angst that being alive, aware, and conscious, in this Satanic Empire brings to people who do care.

I still profoundly care, and I still will advocate for peace, truth, and sanity, but I am lowering my expectations for the outcome.

If I could, I would wrap every oppressed person on this planet in a warm, protective, and safe hug, and lead them to beauty, love, and peace.

No one can ransack your life, unless you have something there to toss around and mess up. So for now, I’ll make more space for love, healing, and magic in my micro-life, and hope this spreads horizontally to you, and, you, and you, and…

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If you do, how do you make space for beauty, love, peace, and healing in your own life?

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