A Declaration of Dependence

The US war on Drugs has cost our country a trillion dollars and hundreds of thousands of lives, north and south of the border. California Governor Schwarzneggers' decision last Thursday to decriminalize possession of up to an ounce of pot is a deliberate step toward a truce in that war. It lightens the burden on the criminal justice system that gets constipated with these petty battles, drains the economy and wastes law enforcement time that cold be spent dealing with serious crime. Interesting timing. Isn't it? Proposition 19, the regulation and taxation of Cannabis for adults, is on the electoral horizon and Schwarznegger opposes it. This brings up an interesting dilemma.

If one can legally possess cannabis in California, don't we have to legalize and regulate the growing of it? Where are people supposed to get their marijuana? From Mexico? Ah, there's the rub.

The turf war we are witnessing now on the border with Mexico has very much to do with the illegal trafficking of Marijuana. It's time to realize that continued prohibition is a national security threat and it is foolish to think we are not complicit in the violence there. Pot comes this way, weapons go that way. (Check out the grassroots action of Justsaynow.com founder Daniel Pacheco interrupting a speech of US Drug Czar Gil Kerlikowske and delivering a petition of 52,000 signatures in favor of legalizing Marijuana). We really have to get smarter about our relationship with Mexico whether it concerns Marijuana or the hot button issue of immigration, especially when it comes to electing someone new to the office of Governor in California.

Billionaire Meg Whitman is adamant about secure borders, deportation and outright rejects the Dream Act which would provide a path for legalization and higher education for the children of undocumented workers who have lived in America for most of their lives. She forbids them to realize their dreams while she is free to live hers by any means necessary. Her pre-Ebay roots, as far as I could trace them, go back to the wealthy enclaves of Boston, maybe she's related to the original tea party gang. The original immigrants.

We discovered last week that Ms. Whitman employed an undocumented worker named Nicky Diaz Santallan for nine years. While Meg ruled her empire, Nicky cleaned up after her and her children. Whitman claimed ignorance about her employees legal status. These politics are increasingly familiar. When someone is outspoken and or obsessed about illegal immigrants they've usually have one in their own backyard. Same deal if some congressman or evangelical is outraged about the Gay agenda, they are soon caught with their pants down in the men's room, Why not confess, tell it like it is and refresh our legislature with laws that reflect our real world? Come out of the closet and get real about our relationships, especially with Mexico.

Less than two hundred years ago, California, Texas, Arizona, Nevada and New Mexico all belonged to Mexico. President John Tyler wanted to annex Texas and Mexico said "no". So, the next President, James Polk, offered to buy New Mexico for five million and California for 40 million dollars. Mexico said, "No gracias". They had just freed themselves from Spanish colonialization and then these gringos wanted their land. So they fought for it and lost. By signing the treaty of Guadlupe de Hidalgo Mexico surrendered the lands and those who remained in the relinquished territories were guaranteed safety and protection of existing property rights. But alas, as was the fate of treaties with indigenous people in North America, this was not honored. And now we have this hysterical border mania.

You know the difference between European immigration to North America and Central American immigration to the US is that the Europeans used relentless force and violence to overthrow and murder the native population while the immigrants from the south risk their lives to come here, work for us, make our lives easier, and have become the backbone of our economy. The truth is; borders are made up. They are lines in the sand, and laws are simply words on a page. Either can be erased and replaced with something that serves us all, the higher good.

Let's make peace with drugs. Let's make peace with Mexico. Let's Open and regulate borders, engage in rational realistic drug policies. Let's let a little sunlight in. Think of the productivity and rich cultural diversity if we join forces with Mexico and evolve into Americo! Then we can all smoke a big fatty and celebrate our mutual dependence on each other. Yeah, a new paradigm that would end the war on drugs. But this time, instead of a a treaty, we'll sign a declaration of dependence.

The Court Jester Testifies

The idealistic and good people of Mendocino County were out in droves this past weekend. Friday was the benefit for KMEC in Ukiah and the fundraiser for the candidate for 5th district Supervisor, Dan Hamburg in Mendocino. Saturday and Sunday we had Caspar Fest and the 8th Annual coast cleanup where over 600 people, picked up over 8,000 pounds, that's four tons of trash spread out over the distance of 44 miles of beach, river and creek. Thanks to all the Volunteers far and wide. I don't know what we would do without you. Not only were these events environmentally sensitive, educational, inspirational and economical, raising money for very worthy causes, they were fun and thoroughly entertaining.

The struggles and stresses that mount up every day are only subdued by the imagination, joy and laughter that we can find here at home and over the TV, cyber and radio waves. While I deeply value The War and Peace report delivered daily by Amy Goodman, I love MSNBC's Rachel Maddow, whose astonishment and genuine bewilderment at the abominal behavior of politicians in our nation is truly refreshing.

I'm also a big fan of Comedy Centrals' news department, the Daily show with John Stewart and The Colbert Report. This past Friday, Mr. Colbert crossed the ever more permeable wall between fiction and reality with stealth force testifying in Character, before congress, on the rights of immigrants and reflecting on his stint as migrant worker for a day. So funny. It was priceless because he presented himself as seriously, yet more intelligently than any of the members of the august body that he was in front, even offering to submit his colonoscopy results as evidence he needs more fiber in his diet. Talk about a tough audience, the subcommittee didn't crack a smile. This man has huevos rancheros.

His earnest demeanor and hilarious yet relevant material was reminiscent of the 2006 White House Correspondence dinner where he skewered and fillet George Bush, the Republicans, and the media. This time Stephen was invited to testify about his day in the fields, picking beans and boxing corn, by the Chair of House subcommittee on immigration, Zoe Lofgren. Colbert, who is the modern incarnation of the Court Jester, unflinchingly mocked, satirized masterfully demonstrated the need for immigration reform at the same time highlighted, the rampant hypocrisy and inefficiency that infects our governing body.

Nightly, Colbert and Jon Stewart show us the politicians and pundits running this country are imbeciles, homophobes, perverts, adulterers, and criminals concerned only with reelection and their own political power positions.

Mr. Colbert and his colleague/faux nemesis John Stewart (who is actually the executive producer of the Colbert report) have called for a rally on the National Mall October 30th. They anticipate 100,000 based on the duo's uncanny ability to capture the attention of the 18 to 30 year old demographics considered at best allusive by the mass media, a block which if harnessed could bring about real change.

While the theme of Mr. Colbert's Rally is Keep fear alive, Mr. Stewart is inviting us to a rally to restore sanity. Yes, Sanity. John will even provide premade protest signs, for those of us too busy to make our own with rational sentiments like, "I disagree with you, but I'm pretty sure you're not Hitler" Now I don't know about you but a restoration of sanity seems like a good idea because the best summation of what is going on in this country feels like insanity to me. Like this weekends headline, that, Atlanta's megachurch Pastor, Eddie long has been accused of soliciting sexual favors from his handsome flock but, gay people still can't married, hell I'd say that is just one of the current events in the news that would certify insanity.

I know I myself have felt on the verge or crazy. Since Obama took office with all his promises of change, my soul is restless, clinging to the hope that any day now, he's really going to stop sending our kids off to war. You may say I'm a dreamer, yes but I'm feeling a bit dazed confused so attending this rally is my attempt at a mental health plan. Now, people might think we are crazy in an effort to restore sanity, but we've tried everything else and with the midterm elections on the horizon we all need some comic relief, Like Emma Goldman says, "Idealists are foolish enough to throw caution to the winds. They have advanced mankind and have enriched the world." It seems like the perfect reason to reactivate breasts not bombs and makes some sense for a change.

Give Peace a Glance

Peace can get pretty lonely you know. Nobody hardly mentions it's name. Sure there's the occasionally march and festival but generally it's a world of war and corruption. At least that's what we hear about every day. Peace had a really good time this past weekend. There were earthdance festivals all over the world that dedicated themselves to this. The theme: Give Peace a Dance. From Laytonville, to South Africa, to Greece, to Brazil to, Tanzania. This weekend Peace had some good company. The Q'reo Indians, direct descendants of the Inkas, came from all the way from the Andes in Peru to Laytonville for Earthdance this weekend to sit in ceremony, meditating on our heart connection with each other and for the Pachamama, mother earth. That's a peace movement in itself.

The sky was so moved by all of this, that it had to cry about it all Saturday night. The wet weather was actually beneficial, its the first Earthdance that I recall, where everyone wasn't choking on the dust and collecting boogers in their bandanas the the color of shade grown coffee.The sky was overjoyed yesterday. with cumulous nimbus clouds spectaculary splashed across the quintessential blue canvas. It was cool and breezy. We didn't go for the whole weekend, because as time has passed the entertainment has become, for me, more geared towards the youth. The generation that still has energy to burn in the name of peace.

We attended Sunday evening and danced to the Brazilian beats of Sam Ba Da, The Indian Celtic mix of Dehli to Dublin and Michael Franti who closed the festival with his usual flair, inviting children and elders over 60 to join him on stage for his number #1 hit single, I Love You. That joint was jumping' for peace.

Sunday was enough for us, because Saturday we were so happy to take our our granddaughter Sophia and our extended family of 7 other children to the County Fair in Boonville. Thousands of you attended the fair and it was a classic down home , apple crunching' cow pooping,good time. I like it too because it's also one of our most integrated events (besides the when the circus comes to town). Where North meets south and we all get along just fine. don't we ?

There's always so much to do 'round here. It's an electrifying field of energy, concerts in the vineyards, the benefits at the botanical gardens, festivals, transition town meetings, farmers markets, etc. etc. And we manage to enjoy ourselves in these here parts without violence. Yes, I know there are the occasional murders, home invasions, pot raids. But I have to say this is really one of the most peaceful places in the world, I hesitated to say in the world, but after I thought about it for a second, yes, I think it's true. What can we attribute that pleasant statistic to? Perhaps because we have access to the organic, herb, food, nature and music, sweet music especially via these airwaves of KZYX, We are also exposed to the dazzling coastline on a daily basis and inland some of the most beautiful topography on earth. Every time I drive down Highway One on the way to anywhere I can, if I choose,experience, looking at the ocean, a sense of infinite peace and calm. Can you? Then twisting turning over the hill whether it's Highway 253, Orr Springs road, or Highway 20, It's a mystical magical tour through redwoods and oak and hillsides that never fade. This place offers us sanctuary, it's a sensual oasis in the urban desserts that are spreading like epidemics across our earth. Here, in this bio-region of Northern California, we have an invitation to rest our weary eyes on such magnificence that peace finds it's way into our lives naturally. I think it 's peaceful disposition also has something to do with the medicinal Marijuana movement that mellows the masses and makes a lot of merry around here. I imagine a day when this plant has a safe harbor and the farmers who tend the fields can do so with pride and a feeling of security that they are making right livelihood and contributing to the peaceful quality of life.

That's really the goal here on mama earth isn't it. Peace. It is waiting, peace is patient. Peace is always there, just around the next bend. Yes, there are some that make fun of the peacenik hippies, the love children who still believe that peace is cool and something to strive for. Some say we are Naive at best or more often - stupid. I find the folks who are still hankering for peace are the happy people of the world. The ones that dance, laugh, eat spicy, yummy, fatty food, smoke a little pot, watch old movies. Make love and play with children. Peace is really fun. I'm glad we gave it a dance. I think we should shower it with gifts. Yes, lets give peace something everyday. Give it some thought, Give it some Cash. Give it kiss. Give Peace a room for the night. Give peace a call. Give peace a ride. Give peace a present. Give peace a song. And at the very least Give it a chance.

New Yorker for a Day

I am a New Yorker. True, I've lived in California for the last 30 years. But, I am still a New Yorker. It's like being Jewish. It's my roots. I'm a New York Jew. New York Made me what I am. Everyone who Immigrated to NY from anywhere in the world, which most of our great-grandparents did, who grew up there, lived there, worked and died there has this intensity, loyalty, indisputable character, attitude, humor, and definitely without a doubt, an opinion. We're tough, built to last. My 82 year old uncle Ted still lives in Manhattan and will never leave. Maybe it's something in the water. The water that makes the absolute best tasting pizza and bagels in the world. Then there's the architecture from its brownstones to It's gleaming skyscrapers, It's undying devotion to art, music, dance and the theater. There's the international ethnic smorgasbord on every block. Each culture recreated in small enclaves, leaving it's definitive flavor, aromatic distinctions wafting up the avenues and the alleyways. Just walk down the street and you will here 50 different languages. And deeper than that of course are the subways (ha) and the people of New York. Characters, everyone of um. The sidewalks brimming over with them, loud, chaotic, and constant.

I never witnessed violence living in NY. My apartment was robbed once, but I wasn't there, so it made me mad more than scared. I was never afraid to ride the subway, walk the streets at 2 Am, yes, there's crime ( mostly from police corruption) like any big city, but it never interfered with the thrill of it all. Rockefeller Center, The Empire State Building, St. Patricks Cathedral, Carnegie Hall, The Carnegie Deli, Central Park, China Town, Radio City Music Hall, Village, Harlem, The UN, Madison Square Garden, Grand Central Station, Broadway and yes, of course, the former Twin Towers, now known as ground zero. I had dinner at Windows on the world on the 107th floor, with my family when I was 16 years old. I remember the potatoes were odd, shaved and crunchy like hay. I got up from the table to look out over Manhattan. It was magnificent, I looked down and felt dizzy.

Saturday, President Obama said that "every year on September 11th we are all New Yorkers". That's odd because he stood at the Pentagon to tell us that, which tells me that he is a Pentagonian. If he felt so New Yorky he should have been at Battery Park, the twin ghost lasers beaming up behind his podium and him gazing into the harbor at the Statue of Liberty, but he's not really into her these days. No, He is one that stands with the Pentagon, not the people, on this terrible anniversary and that is reflected in his foreign and domestic policies.

Mr. Obama went on to say. "We pause to remember the victims, to grieve with the families and friends of those who died, and to honor the heroes of that day and each day since who have sacrificed to save lives and serve their country. Lovely, poetic words, but what about the reality of those "heroes?" because at this moment there is a bill stalled in the house of representatives. The James Zadroga bill HR 847 that amends the Public Health Service Act to extend and improve protections and services to individuals directly impacted by the terrorist attack in New York City on September 11, 2001. James Zadroga was a NYC police detective who participated in rescue and clean-up at the WTC. He was the first to die at 34 years old of a respiratory disease related to the toxicity at ground zero. (though that was disputed by the city's medical examiner who said his death had nothing to do with WTC fallout)

Just before this August recess Republicans in the house blocked HR847. Yes, that's sad and seems truly unpatriotic, but what's idiotic is that it's nine years later and these American heroes are suffering and dying from the WTC cough and other respiratory illnesses and there has been no legislation to address this. At the point that H.R. 847 was formulated in February of 2009 it was reported that more than 13,000 WTC responders had died or are sick and receiving treatment. It has also been reported that over 40,000 responders are currently being medically monitored. HR 847 provides less than 10 billion dollars for the ongoing care of these brave individuals. And yet the President with all his flowery, patriotic, memorial rhetoric, opposes funding for this legislation. He's certainly managed to fill the Pentagons pockets but those New Yorkers, the ones risked their lives that very day and the weeks following will have to rely on each other, for now, just like they did nine years ago. Mr. President if you want to be a New Yorker for a day you should actually go there and sit on a stoop for the afternoon. Have a cup a coffee and a long talk.

Coming Home

Coming Home

Last Friday I went to the airport to pick up our middle daughter Dana and her Best Friend Larissa coming home from a tour halfway around the world.They left on Winter solstice and came back in time for Fall equinox. That's a long time and distance to have my umbilical cord stretched. Last night the girls slept under our roof and ahh that feeling, knowing our children are sleeping soundly downstairs pacifies the soul like nothing else. I had to have a lot of faith that while on they're journey they would be safe, in right place at the right time in a world that can instantly go very wrong, where violence can explode while thousands of innocent people are doing their daily coming and going or just sleeping in their beds. I know it was an awesome privilege for these two young women to wander blithely round the world, driving up the coast of Australia swimming with Manta rays off the great barrier reef, getting cozy with with Kangaroos and Koalas, Partying all night in the bars of Koh Smet in Thailand while the red shirts rioted in Bangkok, riding camels through the desert descending into the tombs of the pyramids, flying in a hot air balloon over the nile river in Egypt. scuba diving in the red sea. Walking through Cairo and all they could say was,This is old, this is really old, wow that's old. They Made mock confession at the Vatican in rome, rode on water busses through Venice, laughed the night away at the Edinburgh theater Festival in Scotland. learned drinking songs in English Pubs, Watched the World cup in Spain and countless other historical and hysterical hyjinks had by two brave, and beautiful young women whose soul purpose was to discover everything and wearing their trademark gorilla and banana suits, bring joy to the world. These two have gone beyond the confines of google and Facebook and sailed off into the wild blue yonder with faith and good humor and were rewarded with real time friends, family, cultural education and follies that I believe have only just begun. To them the world is a magnificent place. Upon their return I think of the thousands of Iraq war vets who are also coming home, gone not for months, but for years, enduring unimaginable circumstances always on the edge or in the midst of horrifying danger. To them the world is a terrible place. How did their parents endure their wives, husbands, kids? Soldiers came home for awkward interludes only to be redeployed back to the hell on earth that was their destination. It was hard enough to say goodbye to our kids leaving on holiday. How does a mother say goodbye to her son or daughter going off to kill an or be killed? And who are they when they come home? The majority of the soldiers returning from Iraq are the same age as my daughter, 22, so young and vulnerable. What's the damage? Our daughters have a bit of culture shock on returning to the states, Larissa dislocated her finger and Dana her knee overseas, luckily they were in England where they would and could get healthcare for free , but no post traumatic stress, brain injuries or nightmares of missions gone bad and babies gone blewy. Our girls suffered minor inconveniences and injuries unlike our soldiers whose life altering disabilities causing them unbearable pain and costing them thousands and thousands of dollars because the VA budget is so sadly depleted and mismanaged. I am relieved the war for them is "over" and they are coming home and yet many of us are deeply concerned about the lack of services, the intensity of injuries, both mental and physical. We see the statistics rising for veterans going off the deep end, committing suicide and at times bringing somebody we know with them as was the case last year when Jacob Gregory Swanson, 26, a former Army paratrooper who served in Iraq and Afghanistan, killed himself and his girlfriend in Fort Bragg

I've heard the argument that we send our kids off to war so we can maintain our national security, I've heard that freedom isn't free, that we have to root out the terrorists and destroy their networks, I can't help but think that sending our kids off in banana suits is a much better strategy for homeland security than flak jackets and kevlar vests. Backpacks full of music, ukeleles, books, and trail mix in lieu of ammunition, MREs. mortar rounds, flex cuffs, hand grenades. Our kids were diplomats, envoys who truly won the hearts and minds of people because they are funny and curious, filled with pleasantries and tales of the beauty and lifestyle of Mendocino county. They offered friendship and adventure instead of suspicion, racism, and orders to stand down, to surrender. So many of our youth join the military because there are no jobs available, there's plenty of money to send them to fight in wars, but none to send them on an cultural exchange mission, where the US does not dictate and occupy, but rather behaves as guests in someone's home. How much we have to learn from these ancient cultures, and yet our mission is to destroy and conquer. Oh when will we ever learn, when will we ever learn. Our kids are coming home now and unlike Dana and Larissa who's dreams are full of castles and trains and joyous bells ringing our veterans have haunting nightmares of sirens, night raids, IED's and blood, lots of blood. That must be addressed. How can we best help them recover their lives, their connection to community and a future that is peaceful, hopeful, healthy and prosperous. We can Call your local Veteran's administration at volunteer, make a donation. see if we can be of service to our veteran's or the family's they've come home to so we can all get a good night's sleep.

Fowl Play

I love eggs. We all come from an egg. Women are born with all the eggs that our bodies will release in a lifetime and in those eggs are our children and if they are girls they have their lifetime supply as well. All our eggs in one future generational and ancestral basket. Eggs, the source of life and my favorite breakfast ingredient. There's the morning omelette, the benedict, over easy, scrambled, or in a lunch salad with celery, red onion, pickles, mustard and mayonnaise also reliant on egg for it's silky delight. Any delectable dessert insists on the ultimate fat.. Where would the cake, cookie or challah be without its radiant presence. the simple addition of eggs to a recipe gives us the delightful meringue. the hollandaise, the soufflé. It would take all day to list the recipes that rely on their steady beat, their robust protein. We all remember Sly Stallone as Rocky and his raw egg ritual preparing him to fight and triumph over apollo Creed. According to regenerative nutrition.com raw eggs contain essential nutrients for the brain, nerves, glands and hormones, they are nutritionally balanced,The sulphur amino acids help to keep you young, raw eggs also contain an abundance of other vital substances including protein, essential fatty acids along with niacin, riboflavin, biotin, choline, vitamins A, D and E, magnesium, potassium, phosphorous, manganese, iron, iodine, copper, zinc and sulphur. I am in awe and deep gratitude for the chickens who daily provide this precious gift.

I thank the Goddess, and our daughter and son in law who raised them, that we have chickens in our own backyard. It's food security to share and eat the eggs of ones so near and dear and not a product of Mr. Auston De Coster's unfortunate Brood. He is one rotten egg and the head honcho of Wright county and Quality egg distributors. the quintessential oxymoron. How sick these dear old biddies must be to have laid 450 million poison eggs. What on earth is this man doing to these harmless Henny penny's. This guy, De Coster has already been cited and fined for oodles of health, safety and human rights violations, and yet there are little if any consequences for this felonious farmer. He joins the ranks of the Agrithugs who are killing off our food sources to increase their already obscene profits, whether we go back to the outbreak of mad cow disease, the spinach plague and now the egg recall and dozens of other incidents where mechanical farming and toxic fertilizer is used with reckless abandon. The Industrial Agricultural Complex from Monsanto to Archer Midland Daniels have taken the sacraments of the earth, the foundation of our existence and pooped all over it. The epidemic of Salmonella is a result of these animals and vegetables being overexposed to feces. Now we all know that chicken manure, composted properly, is one of the very best amendments to our garden, very high in nitrogen and also contains a good amount of potassium and phosphorus. It's not good if the chickens themselves are standing in it up to their ankles. That's just a bunch of crap. Any one who has seen Food Inc. or read the classic expose, Diet For a New America, by John Robbins, is aware of the tragic abuse and inhumane conditions our chickens are subjected to on factory farms. These delicacies of la tierra firma, that which everything tastes like, are nothing more than egg machines to the Industrial Farmer.

Chickens are the most generous birds in the world and in this country we daily consume billions of their legs, breasts, thighs, and livers and unborn children. approximately 23 million chickens are slaughtered daily in this country. Let's give them the respect, stature and safety regulations they deserve. That notwithstanding, if you live on a half acre or so, consider throwing up a coop. 6 chickens will provide 1/2 dozen eggs a day. Or instead of a chicken in every pot as FDR suggested, we could have a chicken coop on every block. Let's bring the chickens home to roost in a good way and start a campaign to change the national bird of America to the Chicken instead of the eagle. Really what's more American than chicken? Yes, let's salute the chicken. Adorn our General's shoulders with their wings, engrave their profiles on our coins and impress their faces on our dollar bills. It would change our very nature of our republic because in fact though very beautiful Eagles are scary looking raptors, Chickens are wholesome, friendly, cooperative, productive, and as far as I am concerned everyone of them, under the right circumstances. lays golden eggs.

Our summer vacation at the Michigan Women's Music Festival

Wow, while we were away in Michigan, on our summer vacation, the oil from the BP spillage magically disappeared. Oil eating microbes arose out of the muck like some crazy munch monsters and yum, yum they ate it up. For real? I'm a little suspicious about the reality of that claim and so are the fisherfolk who make their livelihood off the fruits of the sea having no palate for the taste for chemical dispersant. It feels like a grand scheme by the oily boys who would like us continue swallowing their fossils fuels without missing a gulp, without fear of consequences for our insatiable appetites. It's time to get real. I think a healthy skepticism is beneficial here and an urgency in creating a real infrastructure for alternative energy and conservation. We drove our bio-diesel Sprinter on Interstate 80 half way cross this very lengthy nation, a first time experience for me,and the outstanding landmarks on this horizontal highway where the boarded up small towns connected by miles of power, oil, electric, and water lines extracting what's left of the dwindling resources from this ravaged earth. Besides that, lot's adult bookstores and corn, lots of corn.

The fact is, It was exciting to see bio-diesel and ethanol fuel pumps sprouting up along our nations highways and took advantage of them . We had also committed to replenishing our glass water containers along the way, filling up at truck stops and restaurants which resulted in the purchasing of only one plastic bottle on our entire journey. It's not easy being green but it's possible. and it is certainly incumbent upon our leaders locally and nationally to take a giant step in that direction, they can just follow us. Rolling through Laramine Wyoming we heard news that The Gay marriage ban was overturned by US District Court Judge Vaughn Walker. If you recall, Laramie was where a 21 year old, gay man named Matthew Shepherd was viscously beaten and killed and strung up on one of the thousands of snow fences that cut the hillsides. Just because he was gay. It was a solemn sacred moment of justice, to know that the court understood that the homosexual heart is equal to the heterosexual. that decision provides us with a certain measure of security and whittles away at the hate that is the root of that kind of tragedy. I know a lot of us have been praying for diversity and tolerance, and we took that as a really good sign even if it is stalled in the. 9th circuit court of appeals. It's the small omens and that sustain us through the madness and confusion of this life. We're all just looking for relief. It was a relief to spend time on women's only land in the hardwood forest of Hart Michigan.The Michigan Women's Music festival takes place in a self sufficient village built by women every spring for the last 35 years in preparation for the August arrival of about 9000 of us looking to escape the never ending struggle to function happily in a man's world. The Festival, 5 days long, spanning over 593 acres was started in 1976 by a woman named Lisa Vogel who at 19 had the tenacity and focus to provide a safe space for women that would be filled with every imaginable kind of artistic expression, music, theater, comedy, dance, and workshops like Amazon knife and tomahawk throwing, Stilt walking, creative croning, to the Lesbian Tent revival. We were treated to the music of Laura Love, The Indigo Girls, Toshi Regan, Holly Near, Ferron, Mary Gauthier,The Butchies and the list goes on and on. We have hot showers, three delicious meals a day. If you need first aid, you are sent to the womb, if you are upset you go to the oasis, if you want to see women wrestling in chocolate pudding you go to the twilight zone. Children, roam freely because there are infinite mothers' eyes watching over them. We attended the festival with another lesbian couple and four of our teenage daughter's. Here in the "mainstream" we are constantly nagging them about their minuscule fashion choices exposing more of their booties than they cover. We try to explain to them that it's not their clothing that's the problem, it's the fact is that there were over 95.000 reported rapes in the US last year alone. There, Our girls were safe and free to dress appropriately for their pleasure, wicked crazy style and for the weather and considering the humidity, Half naked was all good. It's a simple matter of real security. One that requires no government departments, no police, no surveillance, no weapons. It has something to do with a man free environment. Now this may offend some of you out there, but the fact is that every women and girl on that land for those five days lived fear free that someone would even think of violating her body, let alone do it. Just contemplate that for a moment. Michigan Festival is a microcosm of a better world that actually exists, the difference being that women run it. Women build it, women make the decisions for the benefit of the collective experience. Imagine being able to walk out of your house naked and all the neighbor next door does is smile and wave and say good morning. Imagine losing all your body judgements, comparison with others because you are no longer competing with them you are co-existing with them all contributing in your own special way choosing your right lively hood in voluntary bliss while all your needs are taking care of. It's the kind of place that you might read about in a Ursula Leguin, Or Sally Gearheart novel, but It's for real. I've seen it with my very own eyes and fortunately so have our daughters.