For some time now, people have been asking me to put down some of my political ideas into something readable. This will be my first step towards satisfying them.

To adress the issues our society faces, we must make some real attempt to remedy the nation as it is before we shoot the horse to feed the colt. The principle differance between any two systems of government is not, in fact, which platforms are taken, but where the coin falls on a single platform: the distribution of power. Who has it, how do they get, keep it, lose it, and why? America is governed by two parties: the liberals and the conservatives. The names Democrat and Republican, while tidier, are little more than arbitrary. (Aside: if a member of the Green Party ever makes it to a position of real power, it will surely herald in a new political age, by the newspapers' counting; but he will still be conservative or liberal.) The fundamental purpose of a government is the security of its citizens; socially, physically and financially. As the currents of culture, crime and economy change, so must the government in order to best serve its citizens. Change is a painful operation and must be done very delicately. While the argument for change keeping up with currents is valid, a well-thought-out change is better late than a brash change earlier on. The wrong move is a greater evil than the late move.

In order for a two-party system to work properly, they must represent two poles in equal opposition. A conservative must resist change, while a liberal must push for it. Both must work beyond conviction. If the amount of work done by one party was only ever equal to its conviction, our government would be dominated by the empassioned, not the wise. All conservatives must acknowledge the need for change, and all liberals must acknowledge the superiority of stability over instability. Imagine that a new legislation is a chunk of wall being pushed up a hill. It's purpose is the security of the citizens. The liberal must push even beyond his conviction to get the wall up the hill and in place with the other securities. The conservative must present an opposing force; not to maintain the breach in the common security, but to test the strength of the legislation. Where holes and weaknesses are found, they must be mortared. The opposing work of these two parties cannot be seen as competition; there can be no exclusive victory for either. They are mutual partners in the security of their mutual citizenry.

To merely having warring factions within a government is neither useful nor desirable. Indeed, when two groups within a government find themselves at animosities with each other, if unchecked, will come to blows with each other and will do the government more damage than they can prevent. When opposing political parties compete with one another for political power, it is like a man's lungs attempting to puncture one another. Even if one of them wins, the damage to the rest of the body is more costly than the victory can repay. To coin the phrase: their egos are writing checks the body can't cash.

It's been a mind-blowing summer. Yeah, people say that a lot, but if I wrote exactly all the stuff that happened to me just in the past two weeks, you wouldn't believe me. No, seriously, you wouldn't. (Turns out that at least I have a soulmate; though "spiritual twin" was the term Daniel used. Though, it's more like a nemesis than a spouse.) The summer is over now, though, just a few pick-up jobs and then it's visiting the family and back to school. There's an ant trapped in my keyboard.

Something that has happened in a big way this summer was a strengthening of my sense of myself as an artist; which battles do I pick, what am I trying to achieve, etc. Something that really hit me today was the neccesary degree of separation that comes with the territory. In 'Kubla Khan', Coleridge talks about the glorious poet, divinely inspired and everyone knows it. And smeg he makes it sound good!

"Weave a circle round him thrice,
and cover thy eyes in holy dread,
for he on honeydew hath fed
and drank the milk of paradise."

I love Coleridge. The thing is, he was right; only it isn't quite as glorious as he makes out. The poet must exist somewhat outside the world in order to see it more clearly, but we must love the world. We'll never beauty if we do not love something in the world (nature, people, etc.) and if we see no beauty, we create no beauty and what is the point of art that isn't beautiful? (Beauty = attributes of God) I've spent an entire summer with 17 people. None of them knew me in the slightest before this summer. The vast majority of what they know is from what they've seen this summer. I'm no one's best friend here, no illusions about that. My job was to watch, theirs was to do. I may never lose the ability to surprise them. I'm socially insecure and everyone knows it, I've been told as much. The things that concern me about a situation and what concern others do not often mesh. They all like me, I like them; we've become a family. Thing is, they're all brothers and sisters, maybe one or two were adopted. Me, I'm a cousin who visits all the time.

We're watching some of my high-light videos from the summer. There's three counselors, me, and one councelor's Mom. There's a sequence of aged film shots:

Dash's Mom: How did they make it look all old like that?
Dash: It's an effect...
Whitty: And it's Za'chary. He's just... wow with video stuff.

God's given me a gift, I know that in a more tangible and pragmatic way than ever before. He's said that his gifts are for his ends and he's proven that his ends will win against my will. (That one's a really long story; believable, but long.) But there's something about that gift, something it has done to me, something that might be scary if it wasn't so stinking cool. To anyone who has a strong spiritual gift, one others can readily recognize, there is an inhuman quality. For the Moseses and the Davids it is a capacity for joy or peace or long-suffering, etc. beyond the human norm; for the Jobs and the Enochs it is a motionless momentum, a focus and/or dedication that defies the human norm; for the Elijahs and the Jean Baptistes, it is a piece of their self that has forgotten that there is a human norm. A part that disowns surprise. Where their brothers and sisters in Christ believe that God can do anything, they believe that he will do anything. People are often intimidated by passion, a firey resolve and desire for something of the beautiful spirit; but there is something terrifying about eyes that watch the sky, waiting for the impossible, longing for the supernatural, expecting the miraculous. I know because I have called for miracles and I'm terrified everytime I do it. I'm not scared that God won't show, I fear what will happen when he does. I still believe that when the time is right, God will send fire to consume the altar.

A woman that has been a teacher, a confidant, and a mentor once told me that I was fearless, that I did things confidantly that others were too afraid to consider doing. Maybe I'm just the forerunner. Maybe the time is coming when denominations will fall and prophets will rise. Miracles in the city square marking the coming of God's chosen leaders, not a best-selling Christian bookstore self-help title. Maybe I'm here to terrify you by showing you today what only happens "back then". Maybe I'm just here to make you believe. God will reveal all when the time is right.

A re-post, but I expanded it significantly. Hope you guys like it.

"Infants like to be constricted"
Said John Locke
"It reminds us of the womb.
We don't appreciate freedom until we're older."
That's what's written on the wall
As I sit on the John, wishing it locked.

Outside, in the Holy Disco Trinity
of the mirrorball, the vinyl disc, and the technicolor angel
embellished strangers swaddle themselves in frenzy
that reminds me why I left the womb
and into the unsweating night
where I wonder if they've forgotten
how to be older than infants

The last turning phrase of a love affair
follows me through whisperingshadows night
on pumping wings of bass
The consuming paradise is still an empty Avalon
and I some grail that has been drained into its gullet
I quest over pavement to be re-filled with the wine of silence

There are no two-wheeled dragons to slay tonight
no technicolor chimera springs into my distracted eyes
I only meet a knight rusted red
with his head under his arm
and no challenge on his lips
Out of the timeless I've wandered
past the snearing clock-maker with his bone encrusted hat
past the top-knotted watchmen staring into mirrors to keep themselves honest
to the coast where the sea offers up stones
a sacrifice to the moon, an attempt to mend their quarrel

Here the blind fishermen marvel at my glass eye
and the words I read out of their hands
scratching with sticks at the beach, racing the waves
desperate to hear read the words I've written in the sand