Where is Home?

Man, where's the bus?
I gotta get home.
Les called last night and we're gonna meet at seven o'clock down at Rupsis Bar.

Home is a place to pass through on the way somewhere else that I need to be.

Nurse, nurse, Oh, Hi.
Thanks for coming in.
Is the paper work done?
The Doctor said I could go home today and the social worker said she's got the paperwork underway. Do you know if it's done? I really want to go home. You guys have been great. You know that. I wanna go home now though, soon .

Home is a place to rest, to meditate, to feel safe after traumatic surgery - a healing place.

At 745 a.m. I'm at St. Mary's in Fishkill, NY. I go into The Church building to use the facilities.
I also sit quietly in The Sanctuary. It is beautiful. It is silent. The sun streams in and shines softly on the stone walls, illumining the Crucifix, edifying The Divine Mother and the flowers around her. I like the silence, the stillness, the space, the Light of Life. It feels like a home.

Jesus said there will come a time when mankind worships God outside the buildings.

Edeleny, Hungary is 84 km from Mesokovesd, Hungary. They are in the Northeastern portion of Hungary, near Slovakia and the Ukraine. My Mom was born in Mesokovesd in 1920. Her Dad was a tailor. He'd also been a Huzsar, a cavalry soldier, in the Austro Hungarian Army in WWI. My Mom's great grandfather was caretaker of an estate in Edelny. She loved her home town and her schoolmates. She loved going to the mountains.

The family had two dogs in Mesokovesd. They lived in town and there was a tall wooden fence around the house. She said it was eight feet tall. I don't know about that. Seems kinda tall for what happened.

Which is, they went up to the mountains and left the dogs home in the care of a neighbor.
The story goes that the dogs jumped the fence and ran all the way to Edeleny and found Tillie, and Apa and Anna and Mommy. Can you imagine?

How did the dogs know where home was?
All they knew was they wanted to be with the people they loved.
And they risked their lives to get there, without any thought.

Where is my home?

Pay Attention to the Vertical

In Albuquerque NM visiting SW Acupuncture College, I had planned to stop in Taos for awhile. Something changed my mind. Instead I went to Los Alamos.

This painting is leaving Los Alamos, heading west into the Jemez Mountains where I went for a long hike by myself up into a Juniper forest. I stopped just past a stream for to meditate and rest a bit. I fell asleep and when I awoke the sky had changed. The air had changed. It was pregnant. Oh my it is going to snow. I better book.

When I reached the car, my glasses fell apart and one lens fell into my hand. Mind you this wasn't out in the woods. It was in the car. Somehow I put the lens into the frame and was able to drive down into Jemez Springs where there is an incredible spa with hot, healing water. I got a massage and a meal and when I started back, the rain started.

Now I had done some research in NYC and gotten a contact person ahead of time in Los Alamos to attend a meeting if I wanted. I had called the night before and been told where the meeting was in town. As I was driving down Route 4 the rain intensified. By one of the big mesas, the sky opened for a moment and ethereal light poured through and then shut off and the rain was immense. I got to Los Alamos and realized I had no real idea where I was. The directions, as they do, had no meaning in the heavy rain and the dark.

I was lost. I pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex and drove through a couple of sections of the lot and pulled into a spot and got out of the car to get oriented. Another car pulled up next to me. A man got out. He said "You're Jon Tupper aren't you." I said, "Well, yes, I am." He said "Follow me."

We went into a comfortable modest apartment and talked about truth and consequences.

Years later, in Orange County NY, because of meeting my friend and brother Dennis B., I had begun to do volunteer work at Mid Orange Correctional Facility.

I thought I'd bring them some wisdom. Ha! What arrogance.
They were allowing me to participate in their healing.
One night a man came in with a really silly grin; he was singing and dancing, yeah, just like Mr. Bojangles. Jimmy Do said "meet Carmine."

Every week, same deal.
At first I just thought he was nuts.
We began to talk though and he listened to me talk about what I thought was going on in the world.

He said "You pay too much attention to the horizontal. The world has always been, is now and always will be corrupt and filled with betrayal and deceit. Pay attention to the vertical, to the Divine, to the Light Of Christ."

That my friends is a daily walk.
I still sometimes pay too much attention to the vertical.
Not tonight though.
Not tonight.

Four inches of snow fell in Los Alamos that night.
Next day I went for a hike in Bayo Canyon to take some photos.
The lady at the B&B said "Just follow the wagon tracks from the last century and you won't get lost." I got lost; there was a series of intersecting loops and I couldn't tell where I was.

So, I did what the guys at the meetings told me to do: I asked for help.
Within ten seconds, two people with a beautiful golden retriever appeared up ahead.
I walked toward them and said I'm lost. Where do you want to go? On the loop or back to the cars? I walked back with them to the cars.

To top all of this off, these folks had been major league anti nuclear folk in Berkeley in the late 60's and had lived in a big commune in the desert in southern NM.

Now, they were both working at the Los Alamos Lab in Nuclear Non-Proliferation.
Grace.
All these God-Instances, formerly known as coincidences are simply Grace.
No thing else.
It behooves me to be grateful.
This is only the start of the story.

Reclamation Project

In the midst of my version of adolescent angst in my hometown, Niskayuna, NY, I somehow served others on the Student Council, and enjoyed it. During my senior year, while I was Student Council President, John Kennedy was killed. The school was completely silent as we left, no one spoke a word on the bus. Somehow, I was able to speak to the student body about it, what he meant, what he left, how we were left and what we could do.

Then Martin and Malcolm were killed.
That was harder.
I didn't do so well.
By that time I had seen a movie called "The War Game" which troubled me terribly.
Then Bobby got shot.
I remember distinctly we were at McIntyre's house across the Genessee River from campus.
We were listening to Blood, Sweat and Tears and somehow someone had a radio or TV on and the news came through.
I remember distinctly I said, "I quit".
And I did.
My heart was broken.
So much loss.
I may have been weak.
I don't care.
That's my truth.

I went far, far away.
Where and how and who I met there is perhaps another story.

It has taken a long time to come back from all the rage, grief and loss, personal as well as public.

Now something is reborn, I am reborn, I am born again.
My heart is being softened.
The antagonism and animosity I bore is being dissolved.
The anxiety lessens daily.

I am seeing anew.
I am grateful.
I have a choice, moment by moment, despite what others may think, say or do.
Yes.

You Can't Say That

It's indeed a transitional time we live in.
Maybe the most dynamic in the history of mankind.
Although, it may be presumptuous to say that as we don't have a record from Atlantis.

Language is fluid now, more changeable than I ever remember it having been.

It is fluid because of e-dialogues: as - online Facebook chatting, internet connections available in hand held devices, satellite connections that span the globe, tweets from Benghazi being monitored by former Special Forces personnel to establish decisions and policy, blogs being created by Christian ministers on the road while participating in teaching seminars and revival prayer meetings.

That is all quite startling, quite beautiful and perhaps alarming.

Alarming like this:
I am a very good driver.
Actually I am a driver by profession.
I drive an International 66 passenger school bus.
Operating that safely at 300 pm with 50 elementary students who've just been released from school is an amazing experience.
However, just because I'm a good and professional driver doesn't mean that if you put me behind the wheel of a Porsche 911 at Limerock that I'm going to ace the course.
On the contrary. A sit down with Tommy, my mechanic who sells and drives Porsches, at least a once through on all the controls and a little bit of time to feel the suspension, the steering, the clutch, the brakes, the gear ratios, the power - that's all a good idea.

Just because I'm a good driver in a school bus doesn't mean I can handle a Porsche 911 at speed.

In a similar fashion, just because we all can dial 999-999-9999, the number for the Indian Point Test Alarm Alert System doesn't mean handling the power of unlimited access to all images, total instant communication, and all information at all due speed at any time from most places on the globe is an easy adaptation.

There are some things you can't say:
Do not say "I talk with God" while at the psychiatrist.
That's something to say while witnessing or sharing with a trusted friend or a fellow choir member.
Do not say "I have chest pain" while at one's yearly physical.
Without, that is, being prepared for a four hour stay in at least the emergency room.
Do not say "Hezbollah" anywhere.
Do not say "Nuclear energy" at a party.
Do not swear on the school bus, unless of course, you are a student,
in which case there will be some warnings given about appropriate language on the bus.
Do not say "I am a member of ZZ, the twelve step recovery group" on the radio.
Do not say pejorative ethnic slangz unless one is of the ethnicity.

Here's what I can say:
Unplug the TV;
Talk with each other;
Listen to each other;

Have a garden, everyone, a victory garden - for heaven's sake we're in a war on terror - everyone's involved in that - so grow a garden - grow your own food. Yes, everyone can do that. Take some lawn and rent a Roto Tiller and get some cruciferous seeds and plant them and water them and eat the food you've grown yourself.

Buy stuff from locally owned shops, on purpose - go there on purpose - make it a point to choose the small pharmacy guy - CVS won't disappear - they've got plenty of customers.
Go to that new cafe and have a smoothie with some espresso and run home.
Write a song
Sing
Read
Slow down on the highway
Get a Bicycle
Start your own business
And by all means, text your daughters and sons and tell them you love them.
Get an amen?
Om Shantih?
Servusz?
A tout a l'heures?

Boundaries

We're on a bridge.
Between Manchuria and Russia.
It's cold outside and snowing.
Too many people are texting.
They're missing something: we can't figure out which language to use.
Russian or Manchurian.
There's a Tibetan monk here, Tzochen Rimpoche.
He's laughing.
The one culture espouses one set of beliefs and the other another set.
It's confusing.
There's a Green Beret ODA here too.
They're on horseback.
"Hey, you guys, what's up? How do you know?"
"You have to inquire within yourself. Then you can stand still in the earthquake
and radioactivity."
Odd, that is virtually what Tzochen Rimpoche just said.
It's not exactly self reliance.
It's knowing one's own heart that expands one's soul to include others.
Then the language is facile and people get it even if the words don't quite fit.
The sense comes through the tone, not the particulars.
They can be worked out in the relationship.
No one has to be left on the bridge, or caught in the cultural intersections
that are occurring everywhere at once.
Staying with the e-devices and texting, messaging, gaming, linking, googling
all lend to being stuck on the bridge and hurt at the intersection.
Holy Cow, I didn't see the light change and that truck just nailed my Lexus.
Easy Does It.
Singing works when the power is out.
We can get along without email and the net.
Just observe.

First Chakra Blockages

A small and talented third grader was often egregiously taunted and hurt at recess. She passed her limit and went to a nearby playground to search her older cousin. She asked for stearoids and karate lessons and training in multiple languages and skills in subterfuge. After some time away from her playground she returned and vanquished her aggressors. However, something happened to her and she herself became a bully. Neither her cousin nor her cousins friends asked her to stop nor did they appeal to the school administration. They, after all, had set her up and she in turn has them set up.

In 1948, David Ben Gurion began an insurgency to secure what he and his followers call his rightful land. They had been persecuted for thousands of years and were bound to return to the prophetically promised land. Palestine had been under the aegis of the British Empire for many years and in the Balfour Declaration a less than equitable arrangement was made.

Since then there have been numerous conflicts, persistent, brutal, egregious wrongs against humanity. They largely, imo, are a third graders war: my Daddy sings to God better than your Daddy, I was here first, no you weren't this is my land, you started it, no you started it.

Whether there is some sort of arm-twisting based in high American industrialists banking deals with certain German manufacturers during the 30's, e.g. I.G. Farben and Bayer, America is currently hostage to Israel. We cannot even publicly utter that Israel is the only country in the Middle East to have nuclear weapons. We cannot question Ariel Sharon's invasion of refuge camps or whether the IDF went over the top in Gaza just prior to the innauguration of Mr. Obama. We have supplied weapons beyond belief and hoards of money to various and sundry Israeli governments. We have never said no.

Melody Beattie, Marianne Williamson, Pia Mellody, Nelson Mandela, and many other people now currently alive have stated, and live in a fashion which upholds their beliefs and faith, that there is a way to live which moves beyond the incessant conflict that is inherent in the world of the first chakra - in the world where I alone am right, where my family will be protected no matter what may befall me or them or anyone else, where my country is always right without fail, where my ideology is the only ideology and if you aren't on board then you are a reprobate.

Saudi Arabia has proposed a two state solution, including the idea that Jerusalem would be honored as the Holy City that it is, as a City of Peace where all could worship under the protection of an international governing body and peace keeping force.

it looks to me that it is too late. And that the only recourse I have is to mind my own business and accept what comes as I am powerless over others and their bondage. I can only address my own fear of family dissolution and conflict, my own aggression and self absorption.

However, as a step into and out of uncertainty I propose a musical peace mission, where somehow some people will find a location or locations and the means of invitation and protection whereby musicians of different cultures and nations can play before audiences of 'their enemies' before we proceed with the slaughter. Robert McNamara, of all people, in the first chapter of his phenomenal book Argument without End: In Search of Answers to the Vietnam Tragedy says in the 20th Century 120 million people perished in war and we must find a better way to resolve conflict.

Bring Iranian and Iraqi and Afghanistani musicians to Saratoga Performing Arts Center, or Oakland Coliseum, or somewhere(s) - figure it out. Bring Bruce Springsteen, Pat Metheny, the Blind Boys of Alabama, Shakira, Beyonce, Jennifer Hudson to Teheran, Kabul, Baghdad.

You say I'm a dreamer. That overpopulation is the real problem. Unchecked and unbridled lust and greed and pride. Maybe so.

Sharing music would be a good start at change.
As would acknowledging that Israel has nukes, including in subs.
As would acknowledging that the USA is the only nation to have used nuclear weapons, and that we as a nation regret having killed so many people at one time. It would be healing for our culture and maybe slow down the rampant speed and greed that is choking us.

There are other chakras past self identity. Freedom awaits. Farms first.

Photos: Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem; Al-Aqsa Martyr's Brigade.

Reality Check

In a world where there is no sadness and little thought, where do addiction and mental illness lie? There are a host of teachers now who offer me bliss, and of my choosing. I choose to commit to chaos or joy. My choice. How does that work out in the playing? We have the game prep and then we have the super bowl itself. Of what role is biochemistry? I ask no questions and have few answers? I merely observe the daily walk. Sounds good. Now where?
Are addictions and diagnoses of mental illness imaginings of our time? Pia Mellody, Kay Redfield Jamison, Patrick Carnes, Melody Beattie are good people to read to start with.

Thomas Szasz says mental illness is a myth. Pharmaceutical companies in consort with insurance companies and the medical industry in America, and the world, have a controlling input into the formation of our culture, in the fundament of our thinking and believing. Where are we? Doesn't matter. Mind your own business. Tend to my own. Really?

The Master commanded the host of demons - mental illness? addictions? - to leave the young man and they went into the swine and off the edge. The Master said "He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone." And they left her alone. The Master sat next to the Samaritan woman, both not done in that culture, and read her life to her and forgave her, saying "Go your way and sin no more." Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.