Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press: Civil Rights

October 20, 2022

American Democracy (1965-2022)

I dislike long artistic vision statement. In my mind they all should be less than a page long, but this bit of writing is longer than I like. However I have a lot to say.

Fun fact: This piece is named after a catastrophe that occurred in my Step Zero novels. I love looking at it in my backyard. If you want to buy it, let me know.

Here's my vision statement regarding my American Democracy (1965-2022) series.

The Vision Statement for the series,
American Democracy (1965-2022)
August 20th, 2022

    Since the rise of Trump, many people have shied away from using words like ‘Fascist’, ‘Autocracy’ and ‘Theocracy’, myself included.
    Not anymore.
    We’ve only had a true democracy since 1965, with the passing of the Civil Right Act.
    We lost our democracy for good, with the overturning of Roe in June of 2022.
    American Democracy (1965-2022).
    Rest in peace, buckaroo.
    We only have two political parties now. The Democrats, made up of liberal and moderate Democrats, Independents and wayward Republicans, and The Republican Party. inhabited by grifters, bullies, racists, fascists, theocrats and wannabe dictators. That’s it. The Republican Party of my father is no more.
    It’s not only because of Trump and his minions. Trump was just the most recent permission slip to behave badly in public. For the entire history of The United States, a good 1/3 of the men have been anti-democratic assholes. They want what they want when they want it. They see women at best as necessary objects in their lives and at worse, property that they can do with as they wish. They don’t care about majority rule and rights and privileges of a working democracy. They just want to make as much money as they can, acquire as much power as they can, and have as few people get in their way as possible. They believe in a God, but it’s an Old Testament God, spiteful, hurtful, down right mean. They are not true Christians who believe God is Love. They are weird cherry-pickers from the Old Testament, to justify their greed, their hurtful righteousness, and their power over others.
    They are assholes, a neglected diagnosis in the DSM-5, if you ask me. Most are men, but there are some women in their ranks.
    So what can I do?
    Not much. Continue to vote Democrat in every election, even for candidates that we barely agree with on policies. Some Democrats are hypocrites, just wanting power and position too, but at least they aren’t fascists. At least they aren’t theocrats. We will hold our noses and vote D.
    And we can talk about what’s happening. Make art about it. Make songs about it. Shake my fists at it.
    But that’s about it.
    Making these sculptures, these fractured pieces of wood, symbolizing the brokenness of my country, helps me a little. Just a little. I enjoy the process of finding, molding, sanding and oiling this wood. I love the smooth feel of their surfaces, as I stroke those that hang from my studio walls. I love sharing them with others, selling some, giving many away.
    But does it change politics, policies and the majorly-fucked-up-country I live in?
    Nope. Nada. No.
    But will all do what we can, don’t we? I try to be kind to all, but frankly, I’ve had enough. If a stranger comes up to me and starts talking some ridiculous mendacious fascist bullshit, he or she is going to get an earful. I’ll be civil in my tone but I done being quiet.
    Sorry I didn’t bring the funny today. My sense of humor is still here. It’s just under a profound fear that the American Dream that I was born into is quickly slipping away, and I’m pissed off and scared about it all.
    But don’t worry. Self-deprecating humor will return. I promise.
    However.
    American Democracy (1965-2022)
    Life in wartime, baby.

Posted at 10:41 AM in Air & Gravity, Art, Civil Rights, Emotions, Ethics, Grief and Loss, Hope, Inequality, Love, North Carolina, Novels, Politics, Social Justice, Step Zero Series, Step Zero: A Sober Love Story in 2076, Wall Pieces, Wood | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 13, 2021

A free epub of Dementia Blues for y'all (and a hidden Leviticus track too)

A writer friend today suggested I submit one of my self-pub books to this book contest thingy. Win between $1000 to $5000 if they pick your book. It's a bit of a scam, our $65 submission costs supporting whoever the hell Winning Writers are, but I had that much cash in my Paypal and thought what the hell.

The tricky part was which book. Initially I thought Step Zero, but that's too long. Then I thought Victor Mothershead, but that's Book 4 in the Step Zero series.

Then I thought Dementia Blues, my best selling book of the 15 books I've produced. I glanced through the epub before I submitted it and thought, "This is actually pretty good. It holds up."

So I uploaded it to the contest.

But you know I ain't going to win.

But you all can.

Download Dementia Blues

Above (and at the end of this post) is the epub edition of Dementia Blues by me, Stu Jenks. Designed by Gail Cross with the photographs and everything. It's a sad but sweet book. I think you'll like it.

And even though the chances of me winning this book contest are slim to none, you can win a free book right now. Pretty sweet, eh?

Love you guys.

Keep your lamp trimmed and burning,

Stu.

Download Dementia Blues

P.S. Hidden track: I'll give away my last book Cherry Picking Leviticus too. What the heck. I'm in a generous mood. (If you feel like donating to the cause, my Paypal is [email protected]). Be safe out there.

Download Cherry Picking Leviticus by Stu Jenks

Posted at 09:44 AM in Ancestors, Arizona, Art, Black & White Photography, Books, Civil Rights, Current Affairs, Death, Dementia, eBooks, Hopi, Love, Mary Jenks, Memoirs, Photographs Of My Mother, Stu Jenks, The Moon, Tucson | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 13, 2021

“Governor Roy Copper, Red Oak, North Carolina” © Stu Jenks 2020 [Extended Family Series: & a rant]

Price: $150, shipping included. Simply contact me via my email address at [email protected] or Facebook message me, if you would like to purchase one of my pieces. Payments can be made with Paypal, Venmo or credit card with Square. All pieces are signed with its title, and can be hung from the wall. Love y'all, Stu.

North Carolina Governor Roy Copper has done a marvelous job dealing with COVID these past months. And it appears my father-in-law Norman and my mother-in-law Carolyn know him personally. I think that’s pretty cool.

Roy, you get a walking stick from me. I'll probably mail it to you as a gift, if it doesn't sell. Thanks for doing a great job for all the people of North Carolina. From what Norman and Carolyn say, you are a very good man.

And now a rant: 6/12/21

From what I’ve been told, Tucson did not receive much winter rain last season, and now they are in a deep drought. The saguaro cactus are all shrunk up and pruney. It’s always dry in Tucson but now it’s really bad.

There’s also a big fire, an hour and a half north of town, near a place called El Capitan, a ridge that I love so much and that I’ve hiked for years. The small towns of Miami and Globe are threatened by the fire too. It’s bad. I read yesterday that they are getting it under control. Thank God.

I wish I could send some rain from North Carolina to them but that’s not how it works. I pray the monsoon rains start like they’re supposed to in July, but who knows.

Global warming is real. Here in North Carolina we’re getting more rain than ever. Out west, they are getting much less.

Pray for Arizona, and for the states of California, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. They really need the rain.

And pray that we Americans continue to fight for voter rights, for equality and for a healthy Earth.

There are a number of bad Republicans out there, not giving a shit about global warming, only about their own lust for more money and more power. They're trying to eliminate the democracy we have worked so hard to create, passing Jim Crow 2.0 laws in many states.

We progressives need to be nasty now, fight fire with fire. Reminding Middle Americans that your wages suck because most of the wealthy get huge tax breaks, that your bosses want you to be scared perpetually of losing your job, that Trump really did, by his own incompetence and purposeful actions, kill a few 100,000 people by ignoring COVID and spreading his lies along with the virus.

Tell the people in the middle that most Republican politicians do not give a flying fuck about you, your kids, your parents, your life. They only care about money they have and the hope to have more of it in their future. And they care about the power they hold and they don't want to share it with anyone who isn't like them, which means you. You may be white but you ain't rich or powerful. You ain't them.

You are better than the people you voted for, good folk on the other side.

It's time to fight and tell the truth about the overlords, my progressive friends. Past time.

And be nice when you do talk with the other voters. They aren't bad people. They've just been serious hoodwinked and fearmongered.

For over 30 years.

#flamespirals, #stujenks, #tucson, #spirals, #nightphotography, #timetofight, #theydonotgiveaflyingfuck.

Posted at 01:50 AM in Art, Civil Rights, Current Affairs, Good Folk, North Carolina, Politics, The South, Walking Sticks, Wall Pieces, Wood | Permalink | Comments (0)

April 24, 2021

“Harriet Tubman, Desert Agave, Arizona” © Stu Jenks 2020 [Extended Family Series]

“Harriet Tubman, Desert Agave, Arizona” © Stu Jenks 2020, 55 inches tall.

Price: $125, shipping included. Simply contact me via my email address at [email protected] or Facebook message me, if you would like to purchase one of my pieces. Payments can be made with Paypal, Venmo or credit card with Square. All pieces are signed with its title, and can be hung from the wall. Love y'all, Stu.

We all known that Harriet Tubman was a fierce abolitionist who helped free many slaves. What I didn't know until I did some research was that Ms. Tubman was one of the military leaders in the famous Combahee River Raid in South Carolina, that freed more than 750 slaves during The Civil War. Wow.

Also, The Biden Administration has recently lifted the hold that the Orange Julius Caesar put on releasing the new $20 bill that would feature Harriet Tubman's face on the front. Time for Andrew Jackson, perhaps the third worst president in American history, behind Trump and Andrew Johnson, to go bye-bye from the bill. And if Jackson goes to the back of the 20, that'll be OK with me. Andrew, see how you like riding in the back of the bus.

We will keep fighting the good fight, Harriet. We have come a good ways but we still have far to go.

#harriettubman, #stujenks, #extendedfamilyseries

Posted at 06:11 AM in Art, Civil Rights, Extended Family Series, Good Folk, Walking Sticks, Wall Pieces, Women | Permalink | Comments (0)

March 11, 2019

Cherry Picking Leviticus, as a pdf and as an ebook for only $2.00

My new book Cherry Picking Leviticus is available for only $2.00, at the Fezziwig Press store, both as an pdf and as an epub file. You can also buy other Stu stuff there as well.

And below are some recent images from me. Hope you like. Have a wonderful day, and keep the faith baby, however you do that.

Love and light, Stu.

"Nannie's Mirror: Town Creek Indian Mound, Mt. Gilead, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [This structure is a re-creation of the religious building that stood here centuries ago, so I wasn't damaging anything by placing my grandmother's mirror within its ropes. Quite a spiritual place to visit, with the creek over there, the temple up there on that mound and the woods all around. Check it out if you are in the area.]

"Deer Skull along the Ararat River, Virginia" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [I found this white-tailed deer skull on the other side of the river from where I took these photos, not far from the grave of J.E.B. Stuart's great-great-grandfather who was murdered (not killed in battle but murdered in his home by a Torie), during the Revolutionary War.

This pristine skull sat atop a tall bluff, near a rusty old Model A Ford car door, both I'm guessing washed down stream during hurricane flooding. It was just sitting, on some grass, like it had been placed there. A lovely and welcome surprise.

"House on Rt. 831, Virginia" (c) Stu Jenks 2019

"The grave of the poet Randall Jarrell, a Quaker Cemetery near Guilford College, Greensboro, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [Randall Jarrell's poetry inspired me to be a writer when I was in high school. And yes, I place those flowers there. RIP Randall.]

"Confederate Water Skiers, Mt. Airy, North Carolina" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks [A clandestine image capture of a postcard in a consignment store. Was I going to pay $10 for this creepy postcard? No freaking way.]

"Nannie's Mirror at Turn Four, looking down the front straightaway, Martinsville Motor Speedway, Martinsville, Virginia" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks. [Holy ground to you gear heads out there. And when they aren't racing, you can drive right up to the fence. I kid you not.)

"A Fatal Figure on the wall, after 40 years, Art Lab Building, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill" (c) 2019 Stu Jenks [After all these years, it's still there. Then again, I did spray paint this onto a porous brick wall in 1978, but still.]

Posted at 11:31 AM in Ancestors, Art, Black & White Photography, Books, Business, Civil Rights, Clouds, Current Affairs, eBooks, Emotions, Faith, Fezziwig Press, Good Folk, Greensboro, NC, Highways, History, Hope, Humor, Love, Memoirs, My Grandmother Nannie's Mirror, Nannie's Mirror, Native People, Nature, Night Photography, North Carolina, On The Rez, Other Writers, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Performance Art, Photography, Politics, Prayer, Rivers, Rocks, Sculpture, Spirituality, Stu Jenks, The Road, The Sky, The South, Trees, Trouble With The Law, Virginia, Weather, Wildlife | Permalink | Comments (0)

January 02, 2019

Two things I resolve to do in 2019...

Two things I resolve to do in 2019.

Stay sober. Stay alive.

Other things are of course important in my life: gainful employment, producing more income so I can support myself and my family; gradually getting out of the hole of debt; being sweet and loving to my beautiful wife; continue to make art, music and books; being kind and compassionate to my friends and family and even to those I do not like; being of service to my community and to the world; bringing social justice to my country, in my own small ways.

But without breath in my lungs, a heartbeat in my chest, and a head clear of mood-altering chemicals, none of the above is possible.

Stay sober. Stay alive.

It's really that simple sometimes.

"The Rev. Dr. William Barber II of the Poor People's Campaign, during the Watch Night Revival, Dec. 31st, 2018, at Pullen Baptist Church, in Raleigh, North Carolina" (c) 2018, 2019 Stu Jenks and The Poor People's Campaign.

Posted at 11:04 PM in Ancestors, Angel/Ghosts, Arizona, Art, Birds, Black & White Photography, Books, Canyons, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Churches, Civil Rights, Death, Earth Spirals, Emotions, Faith, Fezziwig Press, Fiction, Flora & Fauna, Forgiveness, Fun Facts, Good Folk, History, Love, Memoirs, Metaphysics, Money, Mountains, Nature, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Photography, Politics, Raleigh, Religion, Science, Sepia, Sickness & Health, Snow, Spirituality, Stones, The Moon, The Poor, The Sky, The South, Travel, Trees, University Of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Virginia, Water, Women | Permalink | Comments (0)

January 11, 2017

Digital, Physical and Psychological Walls.

Images from top to bottom: "The Wall, West Of Naco, Montezuma Pass, Coronado National Monument, Arizona", "The Digital Wall, Montezuma Pass, Arizona" & "Trump Pinata, Tucson, Arizona" (c) 2017 Stu Jenks.

DIGITAL, PHYSICAL, AND PSYCHOLOGICAL WALLS by Stu Jenks.

There are already physical walls on the border. Lots of them. Also, The U.S. Border Patrol has very advanced digital monitoring systems all up and down the Arizona border. They have for years. I talked briefly with a couple of the officers yesterday and thanked them. I'm a progressive Democrat but I greatly appreciate the work these men and women do.

But I can only imagine what some of them must feel when they hear what Trump, their future boss, said in his press conference today, that the border is wide open, a complete mess, a disaster.

It is not wide open. Hasn't been for a long time. It is not a disaster.

You will be seeing more politic posts from me on Facebook, and on my website in the future. I really don't care if it affects the sale of my work. Fuck it. (By the way, I've closed my Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr accounts. Can't stand those platforms.)

I'm going back to Virginia and North Carolina next week to visit with friends and to see an ailing family member. (Say a prayer for Victoria and the Hardy family.) I'll also be in Washington, D.C. either on Inauguration Day or the day after. Plan is the visit the new African American Museum. Not sure yet which day I'll be there. Depends on a number of things. I'll keep you posted.

Lastly for today, I watched both Trump press conference and Obama farewell address this morning. I wonder what my British and Canadian friends must think, seeing the stark contrast between those two presentations. How could we go so wrong in our election, they must think?

Well, I can only speculate. And coulda, woulda, shoulda, we are long past that now. Donald Trump will be our President a week from Friday. I did predict Trump winning the nomination back on the Summer of 2015, but I didn't see him winning the general.

And I have another prediction today.

Trump will either be impeached or removed from office, probably in two years time if not sooner. It will take time to build a case against him either for mental instability or for corruption, using his influence with foreign governments to line his own pockets and that of his children. If things go south economically, and the Republicans get creamed in the midterms, look for President Pence in 2019.

But I could be dead wrong. Worse things could happen.

Trump will start a war, perhaps using small or large nuclear weapons, and what I write on my blog or on Facebook won't really matter very much.

Or there is this.

The percentage of the American people who support Trump and the Republicans (It's really only about 30% of all adults in America.) will continue to be misinformed at best or blatantly incurious and dumb at worse, blaming whatever bad things that happen on Obama or Clinton or whatever paper tiger they come up with. And about 10-20% of Americans are perfectly happy with a bully, a narcissist, a crazy man as President. (I heard people laughing in the room at the Trump press conference today when he was rude, obnoxious and insulting to reporters. He actually brought in Trump supporters to a press conference to mock the journalists.) Some Americans love this guy. He truly represents them. That is a fact. So things will get worse and the conservative media will gas-lighting the living shit out of it. And many people will believe the sky is blue when it is really black.

Enjoy my factual photos of how the Arizona/Mexico border is actually quite secured.

And pray for all of us.

And for Peter's sake, people, vote in the mid-terms in 2018. We can roll back this shit.

Unless Trump kills us all.

Posted at 02:49 PM in Arizona, Civil Rights, Current Affairs, Elections, Emotions, Immigrants, Politics, The Border, The West | Permalink | Comments (0)

April 19, 2012

The State of Hate and Extremism in American

Photographs from "The State of Hate and Extremism in American" on Monday, April 16th, 2012 at the Scottsdale Center For The Performing Arts, sponsored by the Southern Poverty Law Center. (c) 2012 Stu Jenks

(From top to bottom: Richard Cohen, President, Southern Poverty Law Center; Don Logan, Diversity Activist; Gerda Klein, 2010 Recipient of Presidential Medal of Freedom, and subject of "One Survivor Remembers".; and Morris Dees, Founder, Southern Poverty Law Center.)

Google any and all of the names above, or click on the links to the film or to the Center.

I need to rewrite my will to make it simpler to administer. (I've learned a few things about wills in the past year. My will is a bit of a nightmare right now. I'm OK, my health's fine, but I don't want to leave a mess for my executor.) In the new will, I'm going to bequeath 5% of my assets to the Center. You might want to, as well. Just a thought.

Fun fact from the night: I saw a photo of a Klan leader that the Center successfully sued. (The KKK and other hate and 'patriot' groups despise the SPLC because they take their money, their land and their stuff and then give the assets to the victim's families.) On the side of the Klansman's head were tattooed two words: Fuck SPLC. Donate as you can.

Posted at 07:17 PM in Alabama, Arizona, Civil Rights | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

December 08, 2011

Now available, on the Apple IPad: The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010) and Bozo In Love

Been a long time coming for The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010).

Three editors, two proofreaders, two designers, four printers, and hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, (I know I'm overstating), of writing, traveling, shooting, editing, remembering, hiking, and more writing, shooting, and editing, but I'm not complaining. No, no, no.

And apologies for not having the dough right now, to print The Transpersonal Papers as a coffee-table book as I had originally planned. ($10,000, it would have cost. Maybe someday.) But you now can buy it, for $14.95, as an Ebook on the Apple IPad, and I expect it to be available within a couple days on the Nook and the Kindle as well.

I just looked at it on my new IPad. The photos, text and design look grand.

And as an extra surprise, Bozo In Love is now up on IBooks too, ($9.95), as well as the rest of my catalog: Flame Spirals, Hoop Dancing, and Dementia Blues, on IBooks, Nook and Kindle.

Just in time for Christmas.

And don't worry. All but The Transpersonal Papers can still be bought as a book book through Fezziwig Press. I have plenty. Just go to www.fezziwigpressonline.com, for the hardbounds and paperbacks, but go to ITunes, today, (and Kindle and Nook, soon) for the ebooks.

Heavy sigh from my third story apartment balcony. I look out onto the Tucson city lights in the valley below. Cold, dry air embraces me. I inhale deeply. Exhale.

A very good night in the desert.

Think I'll make a cup of coffee with egg nog and play some Angry Birds on my new IPad.

Time to celebrate.

Posted at 12:10 AM in Ancestors, Astronomy, Birds, Black & White Photography, Buddhism, Buildings, Cactus, Cattle, Civil Rights, Death, Deserts, Eastern Religions, Family, Film, Flame Spirals, Flora & Fauna, Forgiveness, Georgia, Grand Canyon, Immigrants, Infrared Photography, Louisiana, Megaliths, Metaphysics, Mississippi, Money, National Parks, Nevada, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Other Writers, Paintings, Photography, Poetry, Rainbows, Science, Scotland, Sex, Sickness & Health, Stones, Surfing, Tennessee, The American Civil War, The Four Directions, The Indian Wars, The West, Trees, United Kingdom, Utah, Women | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

September 19, 2010

"Emmett Till & Medgar Evers"

I am an old woman named after my mother.
My old man is another child that's grown old.
If dreams were lightning and thunder was desire,
This old house would have burnt down a long time ago.

Make me an angel that flies from Montgomery.
Make me a poster of an old rodeo.
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to.
To believe in this living is just a hard way to go.
- John Prine.

    John Prine plays in my head as I find a place to park. Grab the Canon and look for the entrance. On the way to the Center, I pass the Memorial: an inverted cone of black marble with the names of forty people who died in the struggle for racial equality between 1954 and 1968. I touch the water as it flows across the smooth surface. I see the names of Martin Luther King, Jr., Emmitt Till and Medgar Evers. I think of taking some pictures, but decide to shoot them on my way back to the car.
    I enter the Center and pay my two dollar admission. My long lens catches the guard’s eye.
    “That’s some camera you got there,” he says with a big grin on his face.
    “Yes, it is,” I reply, smiling back.
    The guard and I hit it off and we talk about my camera, about football, and about the weather for a while. I then walk through the metal detector at the entrance of the museum. Metal detector?
    “I guess some of my white brethren don’t take too kindly to this memorial,” I say, trying to be witty.
    The smile falls from the guard’s face.
    “Some folk fire-bombed the first Center,” he says.
    I stop smiling too. I say my goodbyes, grab my camera from the x-ray tray, and walk inside.
    The Center’s main display chronicles the history of the Civil Rights Movement from Brown v. Board of Education to when King was assassinated. I see many names I recognize from my childhood: Thurgood Marshall, Rosa Parks, George Wallace, The Freedom Riders, and many bronze plaques for those who were killed: Emmett Till, Medgar Evers, Martin and others.
    I think of my family: a father who would often accuse me of spending money ‘like a nigger on a Saturday night”; a mother who tended to treat everyone she knew as her slave and servant, for her family had both, and a sister who has developed a great distaste for The Brown People who live near her, who have immigrated from South Of The Border. How in God’s name did I escape becoming a bigot, being a white middle-class boy born in Richmond, Virginia and primarily growing up in Raleigh, North Carolina?
    Then I remember that one summer afternoon.
    We were visiting Dad’s parents in Richmond. We had recently moved to Upstate New York. I think I was seven. It was 1961. They were repaving Monument Avenue which was just up the street from my grandparents’ house. I was bored and I went to investigate. Back then, asphalt machines moved very slowly as they applied the new pavement, with a dump truck that would refill the hopper of the giant paver, every so often. I was fascinated by the whole process. And I made friends with the four men who ran the paving machine. They showed me how it worked. They protected me from the hot asphalt. They told me jokes and I laughed. They really listened to what I had to say. In all the many visits to my grandparents in Richmond over the years, that one afternoon with those four men was my happiest time, hands down. And all four of the men were black.
    I leave the display room at the Center and enter a large darkened room. A floor-to-ceiling video wall glows with multi-colored names of people I do not know. Their names float in a black background for a while and then disappear, replaced by other names. I wonder what this is? I read a small display. Seems this is “The Wall of Tolerance.” Says I can add my name to the many, if I feel committed to working for justice, equality and human rights in my daily life. I cry as I type in my name. Then suddenly, the name ‘Stu Jenks’ appears large and bright on the black wall. I quickly photograph my name. I bring down my camera from my eye. I then see my name shrink to a smaller size, change color, and mix with the other names on the wall. Names fade out. Others fade in. Finally, my name disappears altogether, replaced by the name of a woman I do not know.
    We are never truly alone as we struggle, but we often think so. Even if we can’t feel them, we still invisibly hold the hands of those who are also fighting The Good Fight and who also know that the only God is Love. And it isn’t hard to feel some of that connection, once we begin to throw away the egotistical fears and prejudices that block us from each other. I firmly believe our souls and brains are hard-wired to feel love, faith, equality and compassion. We don’t have to build these abilities. They are already there. They are universal, intrinsic, God-given. We just have to bring down the walls that block us from the Light and get out of our own way. And that’s where the real work begins. It’s a daily practice for me, to not judge, for example, the powerful in my country who only pretend to care for their fellows. It’s no easy task to find the common divine thread with everybody, loved ones and jerks alike. I guess if it were easy, there would be no need for a Civil Rights Memorial Center, would there?
    Seeing these dozen of strangers’ names glowing on this video wall makes it clear to me, once again, that we are one people, one race, one planet. Always have been. Always will be. And anything else they tell us, or I tell myself, that contradicts this? Well, it’s a lie, either yelled by others or whispered to myself.