American Individualism

What if you didn't have to buy a lawnmower, instead you shared one with several of your neighbors?
Same goes for the rake, drill, wheelbarrow, shovel, and trowel.


What if you lived with your parents, brothers, sisters? Maybe you could take turns minding the children, instead of leaving them with strangers.

What if you shared a house? Think of all the savings! One TV, one microwave, one of all the things we call necessities which fill our homes.

If the individual, or the household, is the economic unit
and a household is only you and me,

We must consume more.

We don't share.

"That is mine"
Mine is customized in my personal color combination.

American individualism is now about consumption, not independence.

If you're suffering alone, just go to the store.
You'll find lots of other Americans shopping for items to personalize themselves.

* Author's note: I am not this cynical all the time! America has a rich history of strong social capital--from social clubs to sewing circles and much more. At times American culture these days can feel very isolating and superficial. And for decades the dominant message has been that each nuclear family can have it all. But I believe people are starting to wake up and realize the strength of community--research is proving that it's directly related to happiness--and that more people are becoming disillusioned with a mass-produced consumer culture where the individual is the greatest good. I refuse to buy into the idea that I have to go it alone, and that what I buy is who I am. I am so thankful for our writing and meditation groups, where peaceful community and space for thoughtful sharing are thriving.

"I Know You Can Read My Mind"

You can cry on my shoulder anytime, no questions asked

You can use me to train for the Guinness Book of World Records for Lingering

You can take me for a Lou Reed ride in your badass White Lightning truck

You can leave inscrutably soft messages on my voice mail anytime you catch yourself feeling lonely, bereft, existentially woebegone

You can be a beautiful mess around me anytime between the hours of 10 a.m. and 10 p.m.

You can shriek, stomp, and stammer, but there you’ve got some competition

You can do yourself a favor and watch Kuch Kuch Hota Hoi three times within two weeks

You can keep sending notes, letters, scribbles, post-its, lists, a jewel jam of genres

You can be incomplete, strangely stuck, untogether, a fumbling work-in-progress, just like about 5 billion others of our species

You can seek refuge amid my persiflage, crème brûlée, and recitations of Paul Éluard

You can throw away that mask that flashes: “I’ve Got It All Figured Out”

You can relax when you arrive back home: In the precious present moment


-- Our Heroic and Ceaseless 24/7 Struggle against Tsuris

NOT written by me - though I should wish to be this universal in thought -

"Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four,
and each moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God
and in my own face in the glass,
I find letters dropped in the street, and everyone is
signed by God's name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that
wheresoe'er I go
Others will punctually come forever and forever."

                                                   Walt Whitman



speaking to my love of glass

the glass and the water are one
and with the light and sun they are one
and I love the glass uncut and the water undammed singing over
the rocks and pebbles of the stream
the deep flow of the river and force of the ocean surge
and I put the glass away,
loathe to cut it, to destroy its elemental beauty for the sake of some poor
design some haggling client ( or even myself) craves.

glorious reflections of the sun
the glass and water flowing with the rising and falling light

carol