How to Keep Wannabe Autocrats from Walling Your Weird (in 5 not-so-easy steps)

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love” [for life, for self, for those we share our weird with]. ~ Robert Fulghum (and moi)
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1. Resist common ideality.

2. If the fist of orthodoxy threatens to meek your Nature given wild, scream, “I love strange!” and dance for a spell.

3. If anyone suggests your differences make you less, remember that normal is a con (more apparent than real).

4. Worship critical thinking, and sense.

5. Trust your strange.

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the blackout poem bits behind the how-to


for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55.

Vacant Skulls and Hollow Hearts

“Learning how not to do things is as hard as learning how to do them. Harder, maybe. There’d be a sight more frogs in this world if I didn’t know how not to turn people into them.” ~ A Hat Full of Sky, by Terry Pratchett

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“You hate me because I despise sin,” she tells me. “Because I shan’t share my table with a man who beds another man.”

I look into the rapture burning her sight, and say, “I hate no one. But I’m disgusted by vacant skulls and hollow hearts.”

I have seen
hatred break a soul,
unlearn it

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the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Play It Again Toads! (Flash 55), to Rereading My Pratchett, and to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 352.
– If you have a minute or three check out Rosemary Nissen-Wade’s “Thought Provokers: Some Little-Known Short Forms”, which include three of my poems with Thinner Tanka in them.

 

When Minds and Hearts Bare Teeth Together… Freedom Speaks

I chose to write about Leonard Cohen’s “Democracy”, narrated by Neil Gaiman, on a desperate whim. I saw that my friend Debra, She Who Seeks, had joined Speakeasy and Silver Screenings in their O Canada! Blogathon, and I decided to jump in too. North America is being torn apart from the inside… connecting with my Canadian neighbors, in any sort of celebration, felt right.

My first pick was Lullabies for Little Criminals, by Heather O’Neill, then I realized that the event celebrates films… not books. Bursting with embarrassment—I’m always complaining about how people never truly read on the web—I rushed to choose something else before anyone could get blinded by the horror flashing out of my blush.

I said to me, “Well, Magaly Love (yes, I call myself Love), you adore Neil Gaiman’s narration, Amanda Palmer is a piano goddess, your bones believe in democracy, and since you know very little about Leonard Cohen (shame on me) here is your opportunity to learn.”

I felt so clever, so proud of myself for having chosen “Democracy”. But right now, when I’m in tears and brokenhearted (after having watched a Mexican-born American reporter being told “Get out of my country” by another American, after learning that one of my friends might not be able to get back into the only home he has left, after listening to Leonard Cohen sing:

Sail on, sail on
O mighty Ship of State
To the Shores of Need
Past the Reefs of Greed
Through the Squalls of Hate

I don’t feel very clever, just hurt and upset. Then I watched the short-animated film again, and welcomed the words of a Canadian soul—through the voice, music, painting, animation… of men and women from around the world. I let the bleeding cracks be soothed by Cohen’s words:

Democracy is coming to the USA
It’s coming from the sorrow in the street
The holy places where the races meet
From the homicidal bitchin’

It’s coming through a crack in the wall

I can’t really tell you if (or how) Cohen’s words, his song turned film… shaped (or will shape) cinema and TV. But… today, the promise in his vision kept one soul from losing its shape. It reminded me that when minds and hearts bare teeth together… freedom speaks. It even sings.

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a wee note…

– This post is part of the O Canada! Blogathon 2017 hosted by Ruth of Silver Screenings and Kristina of Speakeasy. Follow the link to see what everyone else is viewing. And speak freely.

borrowed from Neil Gaiman’s Journal