Why do I Keep Writing About This? Politics I Mean.

 

I'm just a little writer, a five-foot nine writer, sitting behind my computer punching keys. I didn’t come over on the boat, but my ancestors did.

I write, not because a ton of people read me, but with writing perhaps I will gain some understanding. For as Isaac Asimov said “Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.”

After the Republican nominee was selected in 2024, I went into mourning for a month. My daughter and I were railing against the possibility that that nominee could be elected.

Then, when Kamala Harris spoke at the Democratic Convention, I leaped for joy. For a moment the heaviness lifted. I believed in possibilities. Joy could again ring throughout our land.

I was wrong.

I thought women would rise up in mass, "No way." They would say. "You are not disrespecting us again. You are not taking away our rights to medical help in times of need. You are not allowing our little girls to be impregnated and then allow them no choice. How many of those pro-lifers have had teenage sex? How many single mothers raised their children alone? How many old farts have gone to sex parties where they were served underage girls?"

I was wrong. Not enough women said that.

After the election, I figured I wouldn't read about what was happening or write about it.

I was wrong about that, too.

But the rattling sounds came to me from the Midwest to the West Coast—it was of democracy being attacked, of freedoms being dismantled, of people being frightened and shipped off. Like a train wreck, it was impossible to ignore.

And then a lady Bishop, like David standing up to Goliath, spoke out to the giant to be merciful to vulnerable people.

That took courage.

Now she is being attacked for disrespect, for speaking from the pulpit, her turf, the church.

If she had called out the President in private, it would not have caused a ripple.

Yes, we have separation of Church and state, but this was a person-to-person comment and having an assemblage of governmental people waltz into a church under the guise of tradition certainly brings the image of the state into the church.

And the complainers probably don't know that in 2022, this Bishop, while ministering to a group of protestors—bringing masks and such, were dispersed, (security brought Billy clubs and tear gas), so that the nominee could walk safely to the front of the church, the very church where Bishop Budde officiates, and hype his Bible for sale.

Didn't the Christ of the Christian Bible throw the money changers out of the synagogue?

I understand that many thought politics was corrupt, money was running the government, our administration was funding the wars, that the rich were getting richer and the poor poorer. They saw that the middle class was melting away.

We were told we were living in garbage cans, our cities were insulted, lies were flying, data couldn't be believed, people were being demonized, science couldn't be trusted, and there were differences of opinion regarding Earth Warming. Yet, probably lurking in the backs of many minds was the probability that the earth would not survive, and thus, neither would they.

We Homo sapiens can handle fear and stress in small doses, but when it is continual, it wears down the spirit.

Without HOPE, the spirit dies.

Our still small voice, our intuition, our spirituality was drowned out by the blooming of rhetoric.

Time was ripe for a despot to step in and tell us he could "Make America Great Again.”

Americas didn't see that America was great already.

Our country is like a living individual; it makes us ashamed sometimes, does wonders other times, it grows, evolves, and sometimes takes one step back while taking two ahead. But underneath it all, we know it beats with a proud heart, and that it is step by step, inch by inch, moving forward.

But Americans wanted a quick fix.

We, the people, were peddling as fast as possible to keep our family together, raise our kids properly, keep them safe, manage our finances, make ends meet, and worry about the media's effect on us personally and the country in general. It was bombarding us at every turn.

When a pandemic hit, it brought on an entirely new set of problems—deaths in our family, fear for our lives, our elders at risk, and when inoculations came, many railed against them saying they were not safe that they would damage us, they weren't tested sufficiently. We were sick because of additives in our food, we didn't eat properly, and we needed someone to save us.

We lost jobs. We lost businesses. We lost our support systems. There was a rift between friends, spouses, and lovers. All the while, the media kept fear in front of us.

We knew that Russia had influenced the earlier election, but I guess not many believed that they would do it again. Keep those Americans off-kilter, and they are easily manipulated.

One side said we were being lied to. The other side said the same. We knew we were being lied to. One man was clear with it. We could see lies coming directly from his mouth. At least we knew what he was about.

Was it an entropy (a gradual decline into disorder) that happened? Was our system wearing down? Did we allow our morals, truth-telling, and respect for our fellow man to be eroded? Didn't we hear the bashers coming and didn't stop them? Did we feel powerless and, therefore, needed someone to save us? Couldn't we tell the difference between a despot and a Messiah? Did our belief systems totally blind us to other ways of thinking?

Did we not see that opposing forces were beating on our doors while we were allowing the media to tell us what to think?

Looking at it, it's no wonder we are in a mess.

It's time to put on our big girl panties and get to work.

Will we let a group of big-money people tell us what to do? We are Americans. We built this country with our bare hands. We tilled the soil, moved west, championed women's rights, and put Unions in place so people would be paid a living wage, and be treated properly. We freed the slaves, brought about Civil Rights, and had our lives saved by the black, white, red, and yellow physicians, chemists, and researchers.

We've been inspired by all races and sexual persuasions —writers, songwriters, entertainers, motivational speakers, ministers. We gave women the right of choice with their bodies, we saved cancer patients, we eradicated Polio, and we gave new body parts to people who had faulty ones. We have seen children born with defects live their lives through science, research, and innovation. I once held a little baby with leukemia. They knew he would soon die, and he did. Now, children with leukemia are being saved, living out their lives through the advances in medicine. My sister-in-law died of breast cancer in her 40s, and now women are living beyond it. I lost my mother to cancer when she was 48. Now, although not eradicated, there are many cancer survivors—my husband being one. The present administration is attacking cancer research, too.

Don't tell me America isn't great. We brought water to people who needed it. We brought food to those who were starving. We are Americans. It's time we looked at what's good instead of what we don't like. We have the power to change and to advance; we've done it before. We will do it again.

Remember Grassroots?

They changed our culture, our medical field, and our nutrition.

We were all immigrants at one time. We came here to be FREE.

We ought War Bonds, we gave pots and pans to help defeat Hitler. We protested wars we felt were wrong. We won't be brought down by someone who does not understand all this—a man who has no empathy and has never walked in our shoes. We have mercy. We care for our neighbors. What in the heck are we doing folks? We forgot for a moment, but now we remember.

We're Americans.

And we were once smart enough to chase the fox out of the hen house and to fortify that structure, so he never got in again.

It's Tuesday, Monday Remembered and Chapter 55

 I wrote this post last night on Word and forgot that I didn’t post it until this morning. —See how out of it I am?

So, back to Monday: By the time I posted twice on Substack today, SubstackJoyceDavis, it was 4 o’clock. I was starving, as I had only coffee, toast with peanut butter and apricot jam for breakfast.

I planned to go to Fred Meyer grocery, a distance from our house, however it is close by Mami’s Burrito who sells super burritos. A match made in heaven. I had a burrito the size of my lower arm--pork meat, rice, beans, veggies plus guacamole and chips, and their super-duper green salsa to spice it up. The open-faced, friendly young Mexican fellow who served me and I joked a bit about the pouring rain. I had an affinity with him, of course not knowing if he was legal, not legal, had a green card or was born here. I didn’t care. He seemed sweet. I thanked him, and as I was leaving, he said I had “good energy” which surprised me considering before that encounter I felt lower than a snake’s belly.

With Sweetpea sleeping beside me and the heater jacked up to womb temperature, I ate my burritos with a fork, huge as they are, left the holder tortilla, was stuffed, warm and sat dumb for the next hour about what I had read today. 

Trump confirms plan to declare national emergency, use military for mass deportations.

Deport “millions,” he said.

“In the early hours of Monday morning “reports” on Truth Social suggested Trump’s administration was “prepared to declare a national emergency and will use military assets to reverse the Biden invasion.”

“TRUE!!!” Trump wrote in response.

Doesn’t that scare you?

I didn’t know we had a “National Emergency” with Immigrants.

I thought about the kid who just served me. Was he at risk?

I thought of all the Immigrant workers who tend our farms, pick our fruit, tend our lawns, start business and restaurants, raise their families, get jobs. We had a young man in San Diego who mowed our lawn every Tuesday. He would be sent back to Mexico on occasion, but every week someone of his family showed up and mowed the lawn. Then he would be back mowing again. I could depend on him.

That was 40 years ago. I fear what would happen to him now.

What is it with the deportation of Immigrants? Am I focusing on the innocents, and there are rapists and insane people Immigrants out there as T says?

Is this ethnic cleansing? No wonder the Statue of Liberty is hanging her head. Did you know there are broken shackles as part of the statue carved at her feet?

Are we a nation of bigoted prejudiced people?  I thought we were over that.

Dumb me.

And RFK Jr. wants to defund infectious disease control and research.

No wonder I couldn’t remember what I wanted to write today.

It appears that people are running on emotions and dropped their brains on the sidewalk. They want T to fix everything. They want a Messiah.

Be careful as you walk down the sidewalk, folks, or you’ll slip on a brain.

Before this present time, I was never very political. Elections were like an athletic event. You won or lost. You felt bad if you lost, but it wasn’t so serious. Now I feel that we ought to speak up. Like leave Transgender people alone. They are 1% of the population. Focus on Global Warming—that affects all of us.

(Oh, I forgot, Global Warming doesn’t have the emotional impact that transgender does. Sure, “Send your boy to school in the morning and he comes home a girl,” To quote someone when he was running for office.)

Many don’t believe in Global Warming anyway. Boy howdy, we had severe winters when I was a kid. Now they are like spring. Species are dying because the ocean is warming.

I don’t know if Global Warming is a naturally occurring event or how much we are contributing to it, but I know we are affecting the environment and we ought to give it huge attention.

The epic poem Gilgamesh is the oldest poem known to man. It is the story of a selfish king trying to achieve immortality, and his “Noble savage,” Enkidu. Gilgamesh angers the gods because he cuts down the ceder trees. Enkidu shows more respect for the gods for he knows that The Land of Cedars is not only a place representing nature and the wild, but also a place holy to a god. (Small g’s on purpose.)

T. claims to be a Christian—I wonder if he has ever read the verse in the Christian Bible that says: “And the King shall answer and say unto them, ‘Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.’” (“The King,” so say Christian scholars, is Jesus.)

Tonight, an acquaintance told me not to worry. It wasn’t worth getting upset about.

Really?!!

End of rant.

Thanks for sticking with me.

 

 

Are you still reading "Your Story Matters" to go there click HERE.

Chapters are also linked to the menu at the top of this page. It’s just a separate page on this blog.

It’s Tuesday-Late in the Day Already…

Dear Characters in the Drama of Life,

I heard one novelist say she likes to throw her characters into hot water and see how they get out of it. I think some of us are suffering from burns, but we’re still here. And some of us still believe in the goodness of people.

Yesterday, on our night walk with the dogs, I commented to my daughter that we’re all immigrants unless we’re Native American, and then it dawned on me that they are, too. Scientists/historians believe they crossed the Bering Strait (between Alaska and Russia) into North America before the ocean invaded the land bridge. My daughter said some Native American DNA shows that they came from the South.

We all came from somewhere, although it appears that the Africans were created on the spot.  

It’s been a mine-cart/roller coaster ride, hasn’t it?

I am launching a new website this week.

Just what the world needs, right? 

Another website.

Yes, we need magic, fun, and laughter back in our lives.

And after all my years of writing, I need one that pays for its keep. Not that I’m charging you guys, but I am offering some mind stuff, and physical stuff for sale—all optional.

Think of this: your mind can create the fragrance of freshly made sourdough bread that runs through my site. I know bread has been maligned, but sourdough is the very best for you, and the scent and taste are subline, so when I read a novel that kept describing the fragrance of sourdough and gave a recipe for making your own sourdough starter, I had to include the recipe.

I’m way into the day with this blog because I have spent so much time on the other site, and it is not complete, but I know how engineers work, (although I’m not one) they are still dinking with their product as it is being pushed onto the display floor. Yesterday, I got immersed in my story, Where Tigers Belch, by rewriting it, cleaning it up, and feeling a respite from the cares of the world by reading it. I wanted to include it on my new site.

Today, I put in a Table of Contents, it got screwed up, so I took it out. It only has 10 short chapters, so it doesn't need one. I posted Where Tigers Belch, some time ago on this site, you may have read it, but for those who haven’t, here is the new Introduction: 

Where Tigers Belch

by 

Jo Davis

 INTRODUCTION:

You might have read Paulo Coelho's book, The Alchemist, where a shepherd boy begins a quest to find a treasure and something he calls his "Personal legend."

Where Tigers Belch is another quest as a young college student sets off into the jungle to find her purpose and reason for being. The spot will be, she says, “where tigers belch.”

Have you ever had one of those days where you felt off? You were out of sorts, irritable, thinking nothing was going right? You were mad at the world and mad that things weren't going according to plan. You were angry that you aren't further along on your enlightenment trail, and wondering what enlightenment is anyway.

You could search for years and never find that spot where the tiger belches, where you are calm and believe all's right with the world. It is the place where you feel invincible. 

I understand the gap. Best to back off. Go into your hut, nap, pet that baby cheetah on your bed, and listen to it purr. (I've heard that they have a purr like a lawnmower, and if they lick you, your skin will feel like it has been sanded.) Decide at that moment that you will be fresh tomorrow, and you are not going to push it today.

I've decided that tomorrow I will take my backpack. I will add a few bottles of water and a couple of sandwiches and set off to find my destiny.

This is the purpose of Where the Tigers Belch. It is an investigation into finding one’s purpose and learning that we are magnificent beings on the road to greatness.

We're not on safari here, although I wish we were. We're here to find the spot that lights our fire. That's where the tiger belches. I could say sleep, lies down, or roars, but I like Abby's lyrical poem, so I'm saying, "Where it belches."

While in Africa, Martha Beck found herself in an awkward and dangerous place. She was between a Momma rhinoceros and her baby. Standing there looking at an animal the size of a Volkswagen bus, she experienced a strange phenomenon. She was frightened, yes, but she was also elated. She was at a place she had dreamed of since childhood, and at that moment, that rhinoceros represented her one true nature. She felt that, somehow, she had come face to face with her destiny. (Between a rhino and a hard place?)

Perhaps that rhino was a talisman for her, a representation of what she could become: big, strong, able to overcome obstacles, that thing that both scares us and elates us. We hope we live to tell of it when we find ourselves in that place.

Being at a spot where a tiger belch has a gentler ring than coming face-to-face with a rhino. The purpose is the same. However, which would you rather face, a wild tiger or a wild rhino?

I don't think we can take credit for all we have produced, for I believe in muses and divine intervention.  However, we can take credit for searching. I search for my figurative or literal spot where the tiger belches.

Come along for the hike. This will be available as a Pdf to download on Travels with Jo--coming up this week. 

And now dear ones, for those who are reading my book, Your Story Matters, here is the next Chapter: (Are you still with me? Daughter dear says that people don't read, however, I figure you do.)

Chapter 51

 

Badass Training 101

 

Have you ever read a well-written story, but you felt miserable after reading it?

 

I won't tell you where I found the story I’m talking about, I read it by accident. The Title lured me. That shows the value of a good title, doesn’t it?

 

If I tell you what it was, you will read it. The author will get ten thousand hits, and publishers will think that's what people want and publish more depressing stuff. And I will be home sucking my thumb, and you will be depressed because you read about another miserable life. 

 

While I found that miserable story, I also found this:

 

It was a three-line blog by Seth Godin:

 

"How much of what we want, really want, is due to the ideas that culture has given us, and how much do we need?

 

"If a memetic desire isn't making us happy, perhaps we can find some new ideas."—Seth Godin.

 

My response? What’s a memetic?

 

I looked it up. 

 

 

“Memetics are ideas that become a kind of virus, sometimes propagating despite truth and logic."

 

A memetic belief isn't necessarily true, as rules that survive aren't necessarily fair, nor are rituals that survive necessarily necessary. 

 

These beliefs are good at surviving.

 

Isn't that odd?

Some liken a memetic belief to a virus, while others say they are more like genes, replicating themselves. Robert Aunger says, "A memetic is more like a benign parasite incapable of or reproducing without a host, and the mimetic’s host is the human brain."

 

The word was new to me, while the concept was not.

 

It was one of those facts we know to exist. It lurks in the back of your mind, irritating us without our knowing why. You know something is wrong. Our internal knowingness recognizes it as absolute nonsense, but our conscious mind is muddled.

 

We know that rules grow and reproduce until we have dogmas, governmental ones, religious ones, and metaphysical ones. Ideas get passed around, repeated, and disseminated until people speak the same jargon and spout the same opinions. That belief has taken on a life of its own. 

 

It takes a Badass not to do it.

 

Today I watched and listened to Oprah Winfrey's commencement speech at Tennessee State University, her alma mater. What a woman. She can put it out there like no one else; I was motivated, inspired, and deeply moved. 

 

When she said she had never felt out of place, not enough, or an impostor, I saw how this woman had achieved heights few women ever have, and she continues to be out there to inspire. “Start by being good to one single person every day. You can be a lifesaver to the one who receives it. Be someone's hope.”