The Offense of Winning: Can We Just be Kind?

I am all for winning! I support those that celebrate at the end of a game. I am all for keeping score, competing to your best ability, this highlights the best in the human spirit. Ive watched a youth from the losing team celebrate after a touchdown. He was kicked out of the game in an attempt to make sure no one was offended, political correctness misses the point again.

We are desperate not to offend these days and yet we are more nasty to each other than ever, just read the social media posts. Instead of honest dialogue that can be addressed and corrected, it is kept under wraps, it seeps to the surface, and it's more vicious than ever.

When kids are very young, that's when they need to be taught, not only not to say hurtful things but why they shouldn't. Instead of political correctness, we need to teach humility, empathy and compassion.

An expectation of nice and an intolerance to the unkind is not working. The bully is a bully because of something that is not being addressed. We need to open dialogue, we need to pull the bully out of the shadows and address the unkind instead of ignoring and suppressing them.

Even those being bullied are suppressed because defending yourself has become somehow just as unacceptable as bullying. Instead of ignorance of the fact, punishment and intolerance, maybe knowledge, compassion and common sense would be more effective to address the issue of a society that seems it's becoming less kind.

Who can we trust? Too many news options and each with their own agenda!

Where do you get your news? Some insist the mainstream media is left bias while others are sure Fox News is a right wing propaganda machine. Both sides are sure they are being duped.

What I’ve learned while trying to find out the actual popular vote; you can find whatever answer you need to support your theory. There are fact checker sites that debunk false stories, but who’s debunking them?

It’s frightening to me that with all of the news options we have, it’s hard to find one undisputable truth. Everyone has an opinion and if you listen to the same people assuming they are the truth tellers-you will always be at the mercy of innate bias.

I don’t consider myself very trusting, I don’t trust any news or media outlet because these days it’s about opinion and proving a point. The media finds it their responsibility to educate the foolish masses, so the end justifies the means.

You only get a snapshot of a conversation, a specific photo that proves a point. Much like our system of law, prosecution and defense are based on a theory and you show a jury only that which supports that theory.

We can show the state of affairs in any way we see fit. If we want society to seem hateful and bias, only show the rioting and hide any sense of harmony. Just like the defendant is dressed up in court to show an appearance of innocence, suddenly that rough exterior is changed to a clean-cut persona.

Unless we are there, we really can’t take anything as truth or fact and yet each side talks down to the other as if the other is uninformed. The blur between pure journalism and propaganda has become indiscernible even though, or maybe because, we have so many options to get news.

No one calls their news propaganda, only the people that receive the news and question it’s authenticity use this term and it’s usually after the fact. In 1939, Germany could not justify war for its true intention of expansion but if you stage incidents and call it self defense than the people are behind you. It’s all language, showing just what you want the public to see, if there is no violence and you need it to be violent, you bus people in to show there is violence-the end justifying the means.

I believe that doubt is actually a great thing. It keeps us discussing politics and world events with question versus bias and certainty. I only wish we could have a bit more civility between us as it is supposed to be a country of many ideas and just because someone doesn’t agree with yours, it doesn’t mean they are stupid or uninformed.

So where do you get your news and how do you know it’s true? Let’s start a conversation and maybe in the end we will find a glimmer of truth.

Sunday Morning: So many stories so much commentary, so little time

I watch Sunday Morning every Sunday. It is a special show to me because it doesn't concentrate on just the good or only the bad, it doesn’t linger on theatrics, fears or politics. It speaks of truths and it connects us to the human condition and leaves us inspired.

I love to see stories about people who do incredible things from the simplest backgrounds and beginnings. To me, it speaks not only of the human condition but often the American ideal.

You get to make your own decision and most often the person I didn’t think I liked shows me something beautiful about their spirit, about who they truly are behind the headlines and bias.

I enjoy the collectors, writers and dreamers. I’m inspired by those that build planes, building and businesses because they thought they could. It shows the immigrant, both sides and from different perspectives.

It peals away the outside of people, places and things and describes them without judgment. It is a news show that tells the story the way it should be, allowing the viewer the privilege to share just a glimpse into another’s life and see from another perspective.

Americans can learn a lot fromSouth Africa: Trevor Noah

I’ve never watched the late show with John Stewart but I think I’m going to start watching Trevor Noah, his replacement. He talks about true racism, Apartheid rule, where you can be arrested for marrying the wrong race and even worse for daring to have a child.

He’s from a black mother and Swiss father and his humor has the depth and truth of his experience. He speaks about being pitied for his past and what he’s come from, instead he sees it as triumphant. His mother is shot twice, once in the head and her humor allows a young child to get through a terrible situation.

His mother offers him two things that she can make sure he had, knowledge and food and she delivered against all odds. They are heroes in my book and instead of complaining and fretting about fair and unfair, they have lived extraordinary lives.

I have spoken with people who have lived in Africa and the one common thing they’ve said is that America takes a lot of what they have for granted. Instead of realizing how lucky we are, many look for lawyers to get us what we deserve, demand the government give us what we need and cry about fair and unfair.

The life of a victim is not a great life and if the people in other countries who have lived through the trials and tribulations of true racism and oppression can see themselves as fortunate and triumphant maybe Americans can find a positive place to live in this great, not perfect but still great country.

The People that Make America Great

Two other stories I was impressed with was a man that cleans the tombstone for veterans and a group that resurrected a B29 aircraft. It’s people in this country doing small things that bigger and more important than what makes the news.

You see into people’s lives and you realize there is good in this country. Regardless of religion, race, creed, there is more that connects us than divides us. There is great in this country, there are great people who love this country and love each other and do great things. We just don’t often hear about them because they are not sensational, they don’t know the Kardashians and they aren’t tabloid fodder.

The Late Hours: Loneliness Finds the Hopeful

The Late Hours

When the clocks seem like they’ve stopped and a figure in the room

Is no one

A loneliness that holds on your arm in an icy embrace

And the shadows are long

And the daylight is absent

Nothing moves

But time is always

Slipping by

And you open your eyes

In Octobers surprise

And feel more cold and empty

Than seasonal

As the autumn leaves all

Seem colorless

And you sit pending

As the very state of being

Seems so abstract

Hanging in the balance of a liquid

That keeps the mind suppressed

And allows those moments, deeply depressed

Passing by

Like water under a bridge

What the self in a mirror

Changing by the hour

Light color flowers the happiness in a day

The dark blue violets scream the late hours….

 My Crooked Spine

My crooked spine

leads me through a forest of doubt

biding my time

dark faced birds wrestle with words

sing a song you won't forget

waiting for the sunrise to open my eyes

it hasn't happened yet

My crooked way, a path we all walk

we all question the light ahead

I walk alone in the darkness

instead

a smile to the strangers with kind eyes

a silence, an absence

no on realized

my crooked spine

it's been a few years wrestling age

disgusted with time

walk on the path, the darkest forest

God smiles, everything's  fine...

Evening

So happy to be here with you

But I can’t

I suspend in hours

A ghost, holding, no ones hand

A fiend with teeth that glitter from beneath grey bone

Sits on the edge of the couch

Across the room and reminds me, I’m alone.

Call it a skeleton of the self,

The sripped down reflection in a mirror

The wireframe image of laughter

On white walls where the sunlight

Lost its way long ago

All I have is the shadows of hours

Shadows of a day passing by

I should be thankful if not for the space

Between us

Even myself keeps its distance

The grays in this house

The disarray

Even my son stays away

All acceptable, I understand

But loneliness gives me so much

With a heavy hand

I lay in a bed in an empty room

And the morning figure

Coming soon

Wake with that panic

Or the insatiable feeling of life

Through my lungs

Where have you gone through the dark

Bends and twists of evening dreams

Its lonelier than it seemed the day before

And I can’t stand this feeling much more

Just for a moment to bask in your glory

But there is nothing you need to do

The absence of the this weight, this cumbersome self

such a pleasure to be with you.

The Absence

You tell them, you’ve lost your job

But some of them seem surprised

As if you’re barely awake

And barely alive

Did I fool myself into thinking this was a weight I could bare

It’s the absence that’s killing me

But I'm always absent

And you’re never there

The absence of that space

I should be joining spheres

Leaving here

But the empty rooms

The shadows of a day

Keep me here

So comfortably we make our beds

We sleep alone

Remember what you said

I like to be alone

but when everyone turns away, the solitary insists dismay

Assume your okay

It’s what you’ve always said

And they’ve heard it for so long

But what if loneliness is a cruel friend

and you were always wrong…

Silence Inside

The weight of the self, you lie there awake

A blade of grass in a field

Where you seek the end of summer

To feel

That hopelessness come fall

My father laid down

This time of the year

When I was ten

That feeling of the cold evenings

And beautiful days, remind me again

We lose our place in the text

Forget what we need to protect

I wait in this shadowed hall

Hoping no one will see

And yet the sign on the wall

My badge is lonely

And it sits on my shoulder

A petulant blackbird

Singing it song

Fills in the gaps of life

When the hours seem too long

All photos and words copyright artbygordon 2016

A Soul Exposed: Across Colorado

I saw the mountains

And they stared back with indifference

And yet a comfort like no human being

Could ever convey

That feeling of being overwhelmed by beauty

As all the outer stresses melt away

And they stand so tall

Above me

And they seem to dwarf all questions I could ever ask

Their beauty makes me feel

Like the water in a stream

It rushes through every limb

And every point a flame

I don’t remember yesterday

I’m just glad I came

And they comfort my dying form

As the autumn trees lay down their own

In the silence, a victim of such distance

But I don’t feel alone

Instead, God seems closer

Colors are brighter

And with that passion

Sweeps across my troubled mind

No words to write

No questions to ask

A captured moment in time

When the mountains spoke with out a word

The most beautiful sound of silence

The most hopeful voice I’ve ever heard

God is a painter

And I’m ashamed

Of ever attempting to say

One word or stroke of hue

That could make you feel

The same

It’s no mistake we all stand quiet

All in our own space

We watch as the light and the colors

By the seconds change

And the lesson begins

As a stranger says and I agree

God is an artist

Describing it beautifully

I never offered up any of my words

Or even dare call myself an artist

Instead I spoke of my son

The only work to even compare

Across a vast autumn valley

both of us in silence stare

All the majesty of a Tuesday afternoon,

Set free across the great divide like a wind

Landscapes waiting to uncover

Secrets I never sought to find

Flaming aspens

Rich yellows and golds, crimson and wine,

Time seems kinder

Leaves me to my space

As every corner another amazing landscape

That draws itself like a painting

Slowly giving up all its colors

And all its pain

The dark and violent storm, the peaceful rain

Sleet upon mountains high

Every word and every color explained

Across the long hills beneath the shadows of giants

They say nothing

And I comply

I could barely describe this sense of being

I hesitate to even try…