Category: essays

Muse

We write; and it is not with a blind eye that we see ourselves, nor with deaf ears that we hear the cries of our hearts and souls – and those of others whom we love: mother, father, sister, brother, cousins, aunts and uncles, friends and strangers. We write; and we catch a glimpse into the emotions we already know, the pains and sorrows, the joys and fathomless depths of those around us whose lives swirl like dervishes that only barely brush our cheeks, that only briefly caress and embrace us. We write; and a moment lasts forever, every microsecond of emotion held within our bellies to nourish our lives forever, to nourish others who might read – or to upset the stomachs of the guilty who might recognize, in this, their wrongdoing.

We write; and the world exists.

For, there may be billions, trillions of truths – one for every moment that exists with prismatic possibilities; but all are lost to the depths of darkness unless we capture, for a moment, this.

And so, I write, am spurred to write; and understand, in this fuzzy state of emotion brought on by salty beer and sadness at the loss of one so great as The Great Gatsby’s Fitzgerald, why it is that he drank and felt this to be the only state in which greatness might be achieved:  For, it is hard, so often, to swallow the same truths that linger in our minds and memories as we recount for the world what it is we see.  They are painful truths, even the most beautiful.

For, if we were living, now, we would not write; and if we did not write, we would, somehow, cease to be.

Might Makes Wrong

Sociological systems are intriguing to explore, especially if one can fully immerse oneself in them. The danger, of course, is the pain and heartache one can experience, the trauma due to social behavior – which, if one has to actually physically immerse oneself, can result in physical trauma and possibly death.

Nonetheless, social experimentation can still be effective in closed groups within relatively-safe environments – such as the various MU*s available on the internet. Text-based, as they are, means that communication and interaction is slowed – which, for me, meant there was time to process more. And, if one is looking into a glass box with a bunch of ants – even if one has decided to join that little ant-farm – a slower pace means the mind can pick up more information.

I didn’t truly intend to make a social experiment out of this latest game that I recently left. It may have hurt less, been easier to leave if I had – but I likely wouldn’t have learned so much, as the focus of one’s mind, when one has firm agendas, tends to eliminate what information one has deemed unnecessary. However, when one is fighting for one’s life – real or imaginary, the mind picks up on so much more.

This one, like so many, had a monarchical political setting. Hierarchical in nature, there were high lords, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, marches, counties, baronies and peasants – as well as other countries with their own levels of hierarchy.

The result was, looking back on it, inevitable: A strong struggle for power between the levels of hierarchy led to infighting, lies, manipulation, back-stabbing, sexual exploits and tensions created to weaken the political or social standing – and influence – of others. Many players, even OOC (out-of-character), devolved into bullies as their need to keep their characters high in the social standing of the game (and with staff members) became more important even than the loosely-maintained rules NOT to bully other players outside of the game environment. Promises and delivery of TS / ERP (Tiny Sex / Erotic Role Play) earned favors from staff members and other players, alike; and withdrawing such attention and affection could be extremely socially-damaging, no matter what the reasons – again, both IC (in-character) and OOC.

To be fair to staff: Having created a sandbox that – by its very nature – condones, supports and breeds social tensions and hostilities, it is extremely difficult to curb player tendencies to carry their hostilities to other players when not actively playing. Cliques and bands of players both consciously and, perhaps, accidentally would gang up on others both IC and OOC as the lines between reality and play blurred. Some are careful to actively express that IC was IC during hostile RP. Others most certainly derived enjoyment from destroying or hurting other characters – and players – in their search to be the top, best, most-feared, talented and/or perceived to be beloved.

Eventually, I had enough of being the kicking-dog of a certain portion of the group. I had, with my character, moved faster and farther with her “secret” than most; and players were complaining to staff. There was no malicious intent on my part; there was no cheating. I simply shared information – and was shared with, in kind. I simply trusted and was trusted, in kind.

This, of course, was contrary to the hostile nature of the game. I was breaking an unspoken rule (or rather, an accepted and oft-spoken OOC habit): I shared EVERYTHING. I was inclusive of everyone. I meant no harm to anyone; and my character was – while anxious because of her secret – never angry. It was more than an OOC choice; as a writer – and one who intensely values psychological consistency and logic even in illogical emotional behaviors, the fear my character had for those she loved – including the society she lived in – was greater than her need to hide herself. So, she shared. She invested in others and in protecting them through giving truth about what ill might come to her or because of her recently-remembered past associations.

I broke the code, you see; and this was threatening to those who had played for years longer than I. This became not only an issue for players jealous over this attention and hasty rise in one of the coveted spheres of influence (knowledge and secrets); but, because no one – not staff nor players nor characters – could actually stop this continued increase in my character’s depth of knowledge and influence because of it, my character became a threat to other PCs (player-characters). She simply became known to be a vital link, and the PC who had been known, previously, to be that vital link felt her hold on it slipping.

Not that this was true, necessarily; but people act in very strange ways when they feel their influence is being lost; when they feel they’re not the most important person.

I write stories. Bear this in mind; and I write stories of logical psychological and emotional responses. Yes, there were other responses possible – but I did not consider them, at the time; and there was no going back, once I had set upon a path. Some things cannot be mended without the help and consent of others.

The need of the PC – and perhaps the player – to be the top, single most needed and beloved heroine led her to corner and threaten my character in the presence of someone who would back her up, who would lie for her and belittle my character. One may wish to belittle this occurrence or say it’s “just a game” – but, whether it was a sandbox social environment or a real-life need to be the most important, it is a social environment with very real humans playing it from their very-real psychological perspectives. These aren’t psychologists toying with ideals or ideas; they’re common people who choose the motives of their characters. As such, the responses are very real, in many cases.

Someone told me, after I left the game, that leaving only gave strength to the other side; that, by leaving a situation I no longer wished to participate in, I had “lost the argument,” by default. In effect, what they were saying is: Might makes right.

Of course, we know this isn’t true.

What is true, though, is the overarching understanding that American forefathers, Aristotle and other philosophers have come to understand about the nature of political and social systems over thousands of years:

What is condoned and cultivated by a social and political structure – of any kind – breeds the mentality, the psychology and the behaviors of the people within it; and goodness is defined by effectiveness – so, if one wishes to create a harmonious whole, goodness is only yielded when that harmony is upheld, valued and defended.

Might doesn’t make right – unless the right are mighty. Social acceptance of a principle doesn’t make something right. It only makes it socially-accepted. And, in that world in which I played? There was no wish for balance or goodness. Even the staff, in the end, defended the hostilities – which says a lot for what is intended, the social structure being upheld and condoned.

There is a lot that can be understood about the effectiveness of a society to uphold, condone and cultivate peace, liberty, justice – simply by by looking at smaller fragments of that society. If the society as a whole is healthy, the fragments will be, by necessity and of a whole, healthy. If it is unhealthy – as we see in these recent riots throughout the United States, the evidence of that lack of health will be glaring – no matter how much it is accepted, dismissed or condoned.

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.

John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton, first Baron Acton (1834-1902)

The Treason of Humanity

No one wants to know how much it matters to talk, how vital it is to express oneself.

But no one tells the birds to be quiet, or the crickets to be silent.

Nothing but fear and instinct shuts them down, causes them pause – and it is only a pause, to better assess the situation, to gauge their safety and the safety of their community. A pause…

And then, back to what they were saying, doing. Singing to who-knows-what in the middle of the day; chirping to the stars all night long.

But we humans?

We learn to speak, and are silenced immediately.

We never have a chance to sing to our hearts’ desires, to speak to our minds’ content. We cannot ask the millions of questions, cannot share the billions of things we’ve learned.

We are shut down by mother, father, sister, brother, grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers… by everyone. Not engaged. Not even distracted. We are bound to listen, to obey…

To relinquish our freedom of speech before we ever know what that means.

And we wonder at the lack of intelligence in our day.

We are confounded at the dissolution of marriages, of families, of relationships.

We wish for peace…

And yet, we cannot, will not speak, will not allow hearts to speak…

Though we cannot help but love those few who break through the silence, the rules of self-oppression.

I would give anything to listen, and to speak.

To be me, Meri, for all eternity.

And so…

I shall.

Politeness is treason of our own humanity.

Taking Responsibility for 21st Century Politics

(Originally published on Medium.com)

It is said that we are given the world we live in and we give this world to the next generations.

This is true.

We earn the right to be, to live however we wish by the very fact of our existence — regardless of the impacts on others, on our environment, on our future, on the futures of others.

We may follow in our predecessors’ footsteps and do as they did, making the same mistakes along the way.

We may observe our predecessors’ actions and choose to do nothing; or we may choose merely to complain, to live enmeshed in apathy.

We may fight our predecessors openly, demanding that they correct all that we see and believe is wrong in what they did and continue to do.

Or…

We may learn. Learn from our predecessors. Learn from our contemporaries. Learn from our own lives, from our own mistakes, from our own ideas and intuitions and feelings.

We may choose the lives we wish.

We may take responsibility wherever we wish and shirk it whenever we wish.

But consequences exist, and we cannot easily shirk consequences.

So I ask, in this day and age of politics, when we dislike our government, when we dislike the media, when we disapprove of so many parts of those directing and affecting our lives:

Will we sit back and do nothing but complain?

Will we sit back and do nothing but observe?

Will we sit back and wait for someone else to do something?

Will we sit back and demand that someone correct themselves?

Or will we listen actively?

Observe openly, with an aim to find an answer, a solution — and to act upon that answer, share that answer, share that solution and act on that solution?

For: What is an answer if kept to oneself? What is a solution never implemented? What is an action never made?

It is dead. It is death. It is continuation of the same.

It is sheer and utter irresponsibility, by the very definition of that word — for there is no response.

We who see must act. Not as our predecessors have acted, except for those whom we revere, whom we deem wise and who were effective in their aims.

We must act as our hearts and minds deem true — and in no lesser fashion.

There is no other way; and we cannot demand that someone else take responsibility for what we refuse.

So: Let us, who would take responsibility for the world as it exists, who despise the current modes of behavior of modern politicians, let us learn from them and act differently, according to our beliefs, according to our knowledge. Let us be the difference. Let us stand up and try and try and try to manage and find a better way.

Who all will take responsibility, and take accountability for the mistakes we make along the way? Who will let go of our pride and accept the burden of the past?

For it will not change unless we do.

Photo ©2017 MLM

Do What You Like

Or:  Self-Indulgence on a Summer Morn

(Originally published on Medium.com)

It is this bizarre trembling that I wake to, this sensation of needing to get up, to do something — and, instead, I sit; I write.

This is what you crave, what people crave to do, what they are tempted, lured to indulge in. This is the drug, the addiction; this is the overindulgence that we call “intelligent” — when it is really just indulgence, really just a cure for those who overindulge in something else more physical, just the drug for those who are addicted to reading, to sinking into someone else’s mind.

Here. Here is my mind; here are my thoughts, poured into my fingers pressing upon small buttons on a mechanical device to appear on a page and rest here, to be read by you, to be read by someone, to be read by no one and forgotten for who-knows-how-long (maybe forever?).

Here is the flow of my mind; the depths of my soul lurk somewhere underneath, deep within my mind in ways only I can feel, sitting in my lap like a child waiting for the time when I will indulge him, her in a game of hide-and-seek or some coloring, or a walk in that ridiculously-high heat of the Arizona summer.

Here is my life, or the culmination of my life, anyway; and you do not know (or do you care to know?) that I am surrounded by piles of books, a scattering of pencils to the right of me, and pens; a cup of lukewarm coffee made too sweet to drink, mixed with almond milk and raw sugar, molasses instead of cream-and-white-sugar, since I don’t really want the sinking feeling in my gut and instant-sugar-rush from traditional coffee condiments. My roommate and I are too lazy, too carefree, too care-less to bother with even bringing dirty dishes to the sink, washing them regularly, clearing the table of the stifling mess; he plays his games when he gets home from work, and I sit here all day, mulling, writing (when I feel the urge or give into the demand), playing writing games or reading to sink into another world away from the reality-of-me.

I’m heavier than I like to be; and I don’t give a damn that anyone thinks I’m sexy as I am. I put on at least 30 pounds that I’ve managed to keep, while traveling to England last year; and, though I lost some of it while working at the country club most recently (six months ago?! How time flies when you’re doing nothing but brooding!), I’ve put it all on again.

I could lose it, if I walked daily — especially in this Arizona heat. It was 115 degrees Fahrenheit at 4:30pm yesterday, when my roommate and I walked from the grocery store, laden with veggies, apples, pasta, things for me to make for us to eat. One-hundred-and-fifteen degrees, which I may have experienced once or twice as a youth in the suburbs of Atlanta, but it’s a dry heat here, and for a natural blonde like me, even one who tans, but who has not been acclimatized to this kind of heat, I found it stifling, draining the energy out of me until I felt dizzy.

He put away the groceries when we got home; I advised him as to what went where as I sucked down one, two litres of refrigerator-chilled water dosed with a raspberry-flavored electrolyte-powder so I might start to feel normal; then munched steadily on organic sea-salt-and-lime-flavored tortilla chips with peach salsa: sugars to increase my blood sugar; salt to replace what I had lost to my skin whilst sweating.

My roommate, a very-dark Hatian-American, was still dripping sweat; large drops formed on his forehead and streamed down his face, the dry comment that followed from the kitchen proving his own loss of salt: “Don’t you love it when you get sweat in your eyes??!”

We discussed the natures of black-people-versus-white-people in this heat with a leisureliness evident of our true friendship: he joked about and explained with such casual acceptance the biological whys of negro slaves kept by white slave-owners that I felt like the weaker side of the human race. I was dizzy for well over an hour while he kept moving, sweating; his more-efficient body cooling himself with the puddles streaming down his face, pouring off of his body proving that only he, of the two of us, could handle the heat that we both love.

I could burden myself with guilt about the condition of our shared living space, the fact that I haven’t done the laundry this week — though I keep telling myself, nearly every day, that I should get up, brave the embrace of that hot hallway outside the door of this well-cooled apartment, walk down those stairs and just put the laundry into one of those machines beyond the swimming pool. For that matter, why not dress in a bathing suit and cover-up, take a bottle or two of ice water, slather myself with coconut oil, and bake in the morning sun for a bit while the laundry washes and dries?

It’s 99 degrees, and it’s only five-to-ten in the morning. If I go now, I can get a suntan and have the laundry washed-and-dried before the temperature raises the additional twenty-one degrees that it’s anticipated to be by five-o’clock this evening.

It’s 99 degrees, and it’s only four-to-ten in the morning. The thought is mind-boggling.

I’m going to do it. Leave the clutter of this apartment, leave the unwashed dishes, and go do the impossible, the ridiculous: I’m going to slip into a bikini, gather the laundry and go downstairs, beyond the pool; and then lie there by the pool, soaking up the sun. How else will I acclimate to this heat? How else will I get the bronzed skin I love so much? How else will I have the clean clothes I want???

You think it’s simple, don’t you? Doing something that you want to do, but don’t want to do.

But you do the same, don’t you? All the time; every day, you avoid things you want to do:

You don’t love when you want to.

You don’t call when you want to.

You don’t write when you want to.

You don’t paint.

You don’t cry.

You don’t draw.

You don’t play.

You don’t listen.

You think my cluttered house is despicable, my lazy lifestyle is deplorable, offensive. And I tell you: it’s just the same. We’re just the same.

My life, like yours, is spent doing what I feel is most important. I sit inside my mind, listening, meditating to the sound of the air conditioner, awaiting the song of the mockingbird in the tree just outside, watching the leaves blow.

I’ve learned to know my feelings, to follow my heart’s and my mind’s flow. I know myself so well that I can put these words so clearly that you can taste them, feel them, know them as your own. That you can see my life. That you can sit here, almost, and deplore with me the empty Pizza Hut boxes, the empty Noosa yogurt container, the mostly-empty bag of granola, the scattered books and pens and receipts — all of which would take but a few minutes to clear up, to clean up, to usher away into the big, blue, metal garbage bin just down the hall, the other way, and down the other stairs.

Maybe I’ll clear that out, too, after all.

Maybe I’ll do all kinds of things.

But here’s the thing I know, that maybe you know, too, but that I have to learn day after day, and that my oh-so-black Hatian-American roommate whom I love dearly and who loves me dearly has me learn, day after day, week after week, while I live with him, on his penny, on his nickel, on his dime, on his quarter, on his dollar, on his life-blood:

I do what I like. There is nothing greater, nothing else, and nothing more important than respect of oneself, respect of one’s own life and love and time and values.

Indulge in all you love.

You’re indulging anyway.

To Thine Own Self, Be True

(Originally published on Medium.com)

Every single rule we set for ourselves in response to a negative situation is arbitrary. Every single rule we set for ourselves in response to a negative situation is suspect — due to the reactive nature of it, due to the circumstantial nature of it, due to the speculative nature of it.

Every single rule we set for ourselves without consideration for our heart’s path, our mind’s instincts, our gut’s reason, our whole nature is worthless and will lead us astray — and not into the life we want, need, love.

Every single rule we set for ourselves without full knowledge of our whole being, without our full set of values is going to hurt us, in the end.

And, since it is so very difficult to fully know ourselves, since it is a daily task of self-examination to know our thoughts, feelings, motives, ways, desires, needs —

Rules are, in the end, abominable.

This is not to say that there are no rules, that there is anarchy.

This is to say:

We hardly know the rules that govern ourselves, so setting rules for ourselves, when we do hardly know the truth of our self-governance, will necessarily lead us to self-destructive ends.

Find yourself.

And, as the Oracle at Delphi advised so long ago:

Know thyself, and to thine own self be true.

Photo ©2017 MLM

Responsible Progressivism

(Originally published on Medium.com)

I have lived the entirety of my life in the shadow of hate, and in the warm embrace of love.

As have most people — I daresay all people who are yet alive, for I don’t think there is a person alive who can live without at least some love, and who has not experienced at least some hate.

I have seen that hate attempt to overshadow love out of fear for a present situation, out of fear of the unknown, out of a desire to impart knowledge, out of sheer frustration at not knowing what to do or how to respond —

As we have likely all seen, and even done, at times.

And we all know the pain that such acts bring, whether we wish to agree or disagree on the far-reaching ramifications of such pain; and whether we wish to agree or disagree on the ultimate verdict in judging such actions.

But what seems undeniable to me is this:

We humans have been trying to manage our societies, communities and cultures with a heavy hand, with the sword, with hatred and violence for a very long time, with what quiet exceptions we barely know, as those quiet exceptions often fade away in the annuals of history and become as myths and legends, with very little left from which to learn.

And yet, we are — every day — faced with the choice to hate or to love; to respond with hatred or with love; to disregard and dismiss or to pause and understand.

Doubtless, it is a difficult path to tread: to love and to understand; for it may take an extreme amount of effort, patience, information, trust to continue loving, and to reach even the slightest understanding; and consequences may be hoped for, but not guaranteed.

Yet it is just as difficult a path to walk in hatred, and to let violence take our hand, our heart, our mind firstly and rashly — for the consequences of this path are not seen and may not be understood for moments, days, years, centuries, millennia, eons — if ever.

So, with two equally-difficult paths in which consequences cannot be known or guaranteed before-the-fact, how does one choose which path to take?

We have discovered at least some things, in our paths as humans:

We have organized our societies, predominantly and increasingly, towards non-violence — presumably because we have learned that this keeps our species alive.

We have increasingly removed and restricted violent acts from the realm of permissible behavior, even to the point of disapproving of and attempting to disallow psychological and emotional trauma towards each other (although we admit proving such trauma is both simple and complex).

So, why do we permit our political organizations, affiliations and interactions to remain predominantly violent — physically, psychologically and emotionally — and to rely upon violent ends — physically, psychologically and emotionally — in so many ways within the realm of politics?

Why is it that we cannot have a truly rational conversation regarding political organizations, political perspectives, political actions, political machinations?

Is it the nature of politics; or is it merely the habit we have adopted, unthinkingly, from such violent ancestors as those who would violently take power over other humans, who would use violent psychological and emotional means and methods to take and hold such power over other humans, to captivate people in fearful ways in order to assert a dominant will through violent methods — instead of guiding a people towards a rational predilection through intelligent persuasion?

It seems clear to me that we are upholding a violent tradition — without realizing what we are doing.

And actions are always stronger than mere words, unless those words are our predominant action.

Photo ©2017 MLM

The Rights of a Conscious, Constitutional Citizen

There are times when I tell myself in frustration, when I ask myself gravely if I no longer want to be an American.

There are times throughout my life when I have so questioned the dissimilarity from many of my countrymen of my political, economic and intellectual understanding regarding the basis of my native country, having studied deeply and rationally for years its political and philosophical history, having learned the fundaments of economics, having lived in other countries and having learned at least a basic appreciation for their democratically-elected political structures; when I feel myself so distant and removed from others of similarly rational passion and disposition that I have wondered if I might be better off abandoning my country to live a solitary life somewhere… much as an unwanted wife might leave an unhappy marriage in which promises were broken and core responsibilities neglected, ignored and dismissed as her misunderstanding of the relationship, in which injustices have mounted and continue to mount without apology or defense of her agreed-upon rights, in which the abandonment of a beloved home seems the only, if regrettable, resolution and possibility for an independent life – hard as it may be – and the unrestrained pursuit of happiness.

These questions assail me when I am faced with the current political spectrum in America; when I am faced with the current Presidential would-be’s; and when I am faced with the multitudinously reflex-like, ignorant, uneducated and misguided responses by my countrymen to such events as Great Britain’s vote to exit the European Union in an act of re-establishing their independence as the wealthiest nation in Europe from an unelected organization of bureaucrats and regulators who have, for the entirety of the existence of the EU, dictated to the citizens of every participating nation how they must run their businesses, engage in trade and immigration, and more.

I cannot stand to see such flagrant dismissal by my fellow Americans of the value of independence, whether in our country or in another.  Still, the connection seems too clear; the reason comes to light as I observe from afar my country’s constant response to the limited “choice” of those presently vying for leadership of our country: people whom we constantly cry out that we do not trust, do not want, in whom we do not believe… and yet, amongst whom the bulk of the United States and the world is accepting will determine the next leader of the United States!

I cannot stand by and remain silent any longer.

I cannot bear to watch the so-called ‘Presidential Debates,’ in which the media and whatever powers have sway over the topics discussed divert attention from the true responsibilities of P.O.T.U.S.:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.

I wonder, as the debates rage on, as each candidate makes raging promises to the populous for all sorts of changes, by what right they feel they have to make such changes, whether elected or not — particularly when so very many of their proposals and promises break so many tenants of the Constitution.

Have we Americans forgotten that this little, old document is the basis for our life and livelihoods?  Have we forgotten that it has been repeatedly ignored, trampled upon, undermined, bit-by-bit and then more and more flagrantly by the leaders of our nation — whom we elect?

I cannot help but wonder:  How many of our elected officials have read the Constitution end-to-end?  How many comprehend the meaning of the language therein?

And:  How many of those conducting debates of political candidates have read and understood the Constitution; and why, if they understand it and the gravity of responsibility any elected politician might hold, would they direct discussion away from projected upholding of the key job descriptions of any Federal politician, when they have those job descriptions laid out in black-and-white, as agreed upon, and as yet unaltered except by ratified Amendments, two-hundred-and-twenty-eight years ago?

I wonder:  How many American citizens have read and comprehend the archaic-yet-articulate legalese of our Constitution?

That there will be debates over the meanings of our core political document is without question; there were debates even when the document was written, over clauses included and excluded, over wording and placement of wording; and there have been debates ever since.  But, why not voice those debates that may exist now — if any such do — unless we no longer respect, love, cherish and uphold the Constitution?  And, if we do not… should we not be open, as citizens of the United States, to expressing, as potential political leader or as ordinary citizens, if we find the document dismissible, no longer valid; and then allow for discussion of what comes next, instead of maintaining the farce of our current political sphere, instead of avoiding the discussion altogether by forcing sub-intelligent banter between power-hungry individuals to take the fore of our consciousness; as if such chatter had some validity; as if we were without other subjects to fill our mind and attention, without other persons to protect and uphold our fundamental values; as if we must accept this half-witted conversation as the only one to be had?

I, for one, have had enough; and I want my questions answered.

I, as a citizen of the United States, get to choose what person, amongst all people who are legitimate options – as outlined by the Constitution – I believe will perform the duties of the President of the United States of America in the upcoming election.  It is a hefty job to uphold a Constitution that I cherish dearly, and I would like to know in detail what each and every one of the wishful leaders thinks about every sentence, clause and paragraph of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, and how he or she plans to fulfill the responsibilities of preserving, protecting and defending the Constitution of the United States.

As citizens of most countries, unless we are being mistreated, we take for granted our citizenship; we take for granted that our countrymen – including and particularly our country’s political leaders – will protect and care for us in whatever ways the nation’s fundamental principles outline.  Some countries may not have a written document stating how citizens are to be protected and what rights they have, and what rights and ways the leaders may and may not take in their duties as protectors.

We, in America, have such a document.  It is called The Constitution of The United States of America, and it was first ratified on June 21, 1788; and has been amended, in small fragments and with extreme occasion, in the years since – as was provided for within the original Constitution, itself.

This Constitution, by way of ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment, is the only reason why I am, by law, bound to the land that is considered “The United States of America” — yet, if the entirety of that Constitution is not preserved, if it is not protected, if it is not defended in the true spirit in which it was written, then I am no longer an American, because that document is no longer valid, because America’s founding laws no longer hold weight, and because America, as it was created, no longer exists.

I may be a citizen of the country of my birth or of no country whatsoever, as circumstances and truth may have it; but I am not and will never be a slave to a brand.

~ Libertas