Have never been a big fan of 7/4 and all the patriotic gluttony
Yesterday’s teisho on the poison of anger was well-timed
As a first-generation American — whose Latvian Mother escaped Stalin’s gulags by fleeing to Germany during WWII — I grew up a true believer in Life — Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness for everyone — And just like my conversion to atheism on the day of my confirmation — I don’t take kindly to being lied to — repeatedly and with weaponized intent
I couldn’t remember why my father wasn’t drafted — by I did remember my mother’s panic attack — laying on the grassy hill on blankets — accompanied by a full dinner picnic — as the fireworks exploded overhead
Now — I tend to remember how all the homeless vets from the US’s imperial-corporate wars — would cower when the Penatgon’s marketing campaign — the Blue Angels — would roar just above their cardboard homes
The birds fleeing celebrations of violence
Even out on the water — The Machine watches
When I let go — of my feelings of betrayal — my anger at being lied to — all of the silly patriotic superstitions — I remembered my disappointment at the final fireworks flurry — the barrage at the finale — how when I was a child it took me out of myself — becoming the lights and the earsplitting bangs
I wanted it to go on forever — and for a moment — I was back in the car — my mother was still shaking — and I knew how I could distract her — waxing insistent on the glory of an hour-long finale — how it could make us one with the universe — bring us past memories into something — I had glimpsed — for just one moment
I didn’t understand yet — although I would — how a lifetime of surface — keeps us blind — to the world resting — beneath the waves
Astute.