Who Needs A Second Life?

ok, Makropoulos is back,

and she is pissed.

( pantherfile.uwm )

Makropoulos, for those of you who don't know,

is the personality I channel

when I have time to channel.

Makropoulos is a woman who has been alive for 420 years,

or some ungodly period of time like that,

doomed to wander the earth

in a body that's say, roughly

24 years old

Though, I should tell you,

after this period of time

it's starting to show some age.

Anyway,

I'm back,

and I have to comment on this

phenomenon

called

Second Life

I went onto Second Life the other night--

I thought it would be a cool place to be

Makropoulos,

and perhaps it could be a cool place to be

Makropoulos,

but they wouldn't let me take that name!

So that was my first problem in Second Life --

I really dug the body I got to choose,

but I couldn't figure out how to change

my clothes.  My Second Life Self somehow got dressed in

this stupid flippy little teenaged dress

that I just wouldn't be caught dead in.

And I couldn't figure out how to change it,

but I did determine:

the options they offered me were,

well, not exactly the styles I would like to wear.

 

That was my Second Problem with Second Life --

and then I got stuck wandering through all these 

precontrived places, precontrived

in someone else's brain,

and not even half as interesting

as the rest of the real world really is.

I mean, honestly, gang,

I've lived in the rest of the world:

I've lived in London,

France,

Germany,

Greece,

Turkey, 

Thailand,

Canada,

India,

and most recently,

the United States of America,

and when you put the effect of living

in those places,

as well as travelling to many other places,

multiple times,

alongside the world of 

Second Life,

well, one of them pales,

and it isn't the planet we live on.

That's the truth.

So, that was my Third Problem with Second Life

But that also takes me to the thing

I really liked

about Second Life:

the first person I met was French.

I was being so lazy, using English - I mean,

that's been my primary language for 

over 100 years,

and when her first sentence was French,

I was at first quite surprised,

and then I realized,

that Second Life is a place

that requires

Second Languages,

not to mention

Third of Fourth

Languages.

Because

people in Second Life could be from

anywhere.

Second Life gets rid of those

geographical boundaries, and puts us

all together, in one

space without time and space.

Well, to say the least,

I struggled with my French.

I mean, I haven't used it for nearly

100 years.

And then I began thinking:

I'd better brush up on my German,

And my Spanish,

and my Turkish,

if I really want to get around

in Second Life.

(or even in blog life)

That is the First Good Thing,

and perhaps

THE BEST THING

about Second Life.

I was struggling with flying,

since I have a Mac,

and loving the idea of flying,

 but getting more and more frustrated

by a very essential feature of Second Life-

the avatar itself.

After I excused myself from the French

woman, who I must applaud

for struggling with English,

while I struggled with French,

(her parting statement to me 

was "kiss")

anyway, after that rather

sweet encounter, I found

myself catapulted from one

mediocre Second Life 

location to the next,

until I seemed to get stuck 

in one, where I finally

found other players who

spoke English, and one

dashing male avatar walked

up to me and said: did you see 

anyone around here?

There's some people

behind me, I said,

and he said: yeah,

I know them. But is

there anyone else?

(as if to say: I know 

them; they bore me;

I'm looking for the 

cool folks, and I said

"I don't know; I'm a stranger here myself."

And he said "yeah,

me too," then went

dashing away,

looking for someone

else, not me.

And I thought: 

crap, I could do that in my First Life.

This gets me to the Fourth Problem With Second Life,

and the Reason I Won't Do It Again, for awhile:

You see, I feel that I'm already

in an avatar. 

This body,

I live in,

is my earthly

avatar,

it's the form I chose

to use for 

this stretch of time

on this earthly domain.

I have enough trouble,

and enough fun,

negotiating this earthly

avatar,

why the hell would I need another?

Sure:

some people may act out

their wildest fantasies,

their real self,

in the Second

World, and 

(and perhaps because)

they actually believe

this Earth

is the First World,

when in actual

fact

Earth is the Second Life.

Second Life for me

is a Third Life

that I really don't need.

After all my time

on this Earthly Plane,

I've come to realize

that when you're damned

to eternal life on this Second Life Planet,

which I am,

you would be in torment,

if you did not always live it

as your true self.

So for me,

I am true to my fantasy self

-my real, Other self-

in this life,

 all the time,

knowing that THIS

is the Second Life.

THIS is the place

where we've been required

to get it right.

the first time,

the only time,

so when we head back

to the First Life,

the only life,

the eternal life,

we know the following things:

what it is to be good,

what it is to be bad,

and what it is to know the difference,

and what it is to say: "that's too bad" or

"that's too good."  The eternal life

that knows all these things,

is the perfect life,

and that's what I am 

striving for.

World Without End. 

(  freakingnews  )

Roll Over Benjamin

Yeah,

it's been awhile since I've written one of my lengthy

thoughtful entries,

mostly because I'm writing other stuff right now,

in other places,

that demands a terrific amount of

brain energy.

*

I seem to have taken blogging perhaps

a little too seriously.

In the meantime,

folks get tons of hits,

and make, like, lots of money

for producing blogs that feature stuff like this:

see more Celeb Look-A-Likes

(Nancy Pelosi looks like E.T.)

see more Celeb Look-A-Likes

(Helen Thomas looks like Yubaba from Spirited Away)

This all comes from a website rather artistically titled:

totallylookslike.com

A couple weeks ago, I mused about how the day upon which

I entered my current life

was the anniversary of Walter Benjamin's death.

Walter Benjamin is the author of 

"The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,"

a work that challenges us to contemplate how technology 

has altered the way we look at reproductions 

(because so many reproductions are available)

and, likewise, originals.

I've been thinking for awhile that we in the U.S.A. in particular

live in a world of reproductions gone amuck.

I really do want to write a longer entry on that.

But for now, I offer 

totallylookslike.com

as an example and a sample of how

we are intrigued by the likeness

and not by the original,

and furthermore,

we in the USA love likenesses

that belittle the original.

Reproduction gone amuck

We've moved far too far from our source

don't worry, be happy

Not much more to say about this:

Binary Stars . . .

It's a day when suddenly I feel I can give myself permission

to loiter,

to let my mind go where it will,

and here is where it went:

(NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day)

This particular picture, taken by the Hubble Space Camera,

took my breath away,

and when I read what it was, 

I had to include it here:

Explanation: How was the unusual Red Rectangle nebula created? At the nebula's center is an aging binary star system that surely powers the nebula but does not, as yet, explain its colors. The unusual shape of the Red Rectangle is likely due to a thick dust torus which pinches the otherwise spherical outflow into tip-touching cone shapes. Because we view the torus edge-on, the boundary edges of the cone shapes seem to form an X. The distinct rungs suggest the outflow occurs in fits and starts. The unusual colors of the nebula are less well understood, however, and current speculation holds that they are partly provided by hydrocarbon molecules that may actually be building blocks for organic life. The Red Rectangle nebula lies about 2,300 light years away towards the constellation of the Unicorn (Monoceros). The nebula is shown above in unprecedented detail as captured recently by the Hubble Space Telescope. In a few million years, as one of the central stars becomes further depleted of nuclear fuel, the Red Rectangle nebula will likely bloom into a planetary nebula.

  

I've taken this language directly from the NASA site.

There is something about it that makes me think

of the mirror images I've contemplated here in the past--

If you follow NASA's link on the idea of a binary star system:

stars tend to move in couples, with a greater and a lesser;

we are unique in that the sun is a lone star; 

or is the sun truly alone?  NASA goes on to explain:

" In a binary system, the higher mass star will evolve faster and will eventually become a compact object - either a white dwarf star, a neutron star, or black hole." 

This makes me wonder if perhaps the sun's "higher mass companion"

has perhaps already become its Other Self.

You know what?

I'm no astronomer,

can't even spell it,

but the image and the explanation

captured my attention,

especially the part about this

extraordinary display being both

an aging system, but also one that could

"bloom into a planetary nebulae"

that could possibly

hold life.

on 2012 and related ramblings. . . .

The past few weeks,

I have been so unfocused.

(So pardon me if this entry is unstable, too.)

This past Sunday

I felt like the 

cosmic world was torn

asunder.

 

The result: I got sick.

***

I have this funny theory, and 

it's related to the whole idea

of a polar shift.

Polar shift:

Now, the whole idea of this gives me

a few chills.

If it's true,

I feel terrifically cheated.

Here I am;

I've been living so very long,

robbed of the privilege of 

a private death

for hundreds of years;

instead, I may be transported into the ether

en masse--

with you

all.

All of us, together,

no special ceremonies

or embalmings

or monuments

or pictures in the paper;

just a sudden,

unexpected

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

******

and what will be left of us?

This:

these very words;

these internet images and

our radio impressions;

that amazing chatter of the multitudes

that my own small voice is but one part of.

This is what will be left;

this is what assures some level of

immortality.

( geology.com )

For some reason, though, this thought doesn't disturb me at all.

If we could all just sort of do what I've been talking about in some of my entries,

then it might not be all that bad.  My two central rules are::

 

Just live each moment as if

it's the last.

and 

Just love.

 

 

What is love?

It's that stupid feeling of bliss that you feel

when you sit out under the stars by a fire

with a beer

and a cigarette.

It's that extraordinary

wordless awe

of holding a baby's hand

in your own;

 

it's the moment of loss

of control of self

when the body wrenches

orgasmically

with someone who

helps you be

your better self

even as you

help them be

their better self;

 

it's the satisfaction

of showing your son

how to change a head gasket

and seeing him do it just right;

it's the satisfaction gained

when you stop thinking about

what you need to do by tomorrow

and instead 

listen

to the story your mother wants to tell,

or that funny old man down the road, or

that kid in your class who wears a helmet

and sits in a wheelchair.

it's every act we give

to another

without thinking

about what we will

gain in return.

******

OK, all right already.

What does that have to do with 2012?

absolutely nothing

and

absolutely everything.

But back to the way I started this.

I have this funny theory, and 

it's related to the whole idea

of a polar shift:

 

the popular belief is that

this shift is going to happen

very quickly.

Well, I say:

it's started already.

How else can you explain

all the strange natural phenomena

we've been experiencing lately?

The earth is shifting,

already, perhaps even

anticipating 

the frolicsome dance

soon to begin

between her

and the sun

and this massive

black hole

in the middle

of our galaxy.

We are but bit players in this larger planetary rendezvous:

the sun and the earth,

well,

they've done this before.

Makes me wonder

what that third party, that black hole 

is 

anyway?

Perhaps it is nothing but 

a mirror

in which all of creation -

each human individually,

and humanities as an entity -

will suddenly,

unexpectedly

encounter

itself

and have to

answer

for

itself.

 

Are you ready?

 

 

 

 

Ordinary Time

(kaleidoscope)

Green

is the color

of ordinary time,

the color of pastures

and trees

and long lush lawns,

the color of comfort

and peace

fullness.

Red marks the

extraordinary

the shock of the passage

of time; the monumental

disruptions;

the preparedness 

for change, for birth, for death.

Purple,k too, and white--

that pure

absence of color

anticipating 

pastel--

the return of green.

We live in the cycle of color;

we live in the cycle of time

of pause

of waiting

anticipating

the whirl

of the 

kaleidoscope

wheel.

people will be people

Tonight, for a reason I won't go into right now, I found myself looking at the online police blotter
in a community near where I live,
and I was amazed and delighted by the stories it told.  This is really just a randomly chosen sample:


A Broadway resident called to say her dog had locked
her out of her running car while Police responded to a call 
from a Walden Avenue hotel
that a man who was not staying at the hotel had been
wandering around and smoking a cigar all day. The man
stated “Mr. Millenium” told him he could stay there
anytime. Police escorted him off the premises.

Police stopped a 23-year-old Park Place resident who
was running in the middle of Main Street. When police
approached the man, he reportedly turned around, ran
backward and said vulgar statements to the officer while
punching the air in front of him.  

Officers responded to a West Seneca home due to an
intoxicated man who attempted to use a plow truck to
push other vehicles out of his driveway. 

Police responded to Clinton Street for the report of a
highly intoxicated female who was walking in the middle
of traffic and attempting to get into stopped vehicles. She
told police she had been drinking in Arizona earlier that
day.

An elderly Cheektowaga woman called police, stating
that someone was in her closet and wouldn’t come out.

A Union Road woman called 911 because she didn’t
know how to use her phone.

A noise complaint was reported on Pin Oak Drive. Police
responded and found a 50th anniversary
party. The seniors were advised to turn down the Frank
Sinatra music.

Police located a man, 19, walking on Interstate 290. He
told police he was walking from Buffalo to
Syracuse to see his girlfriend. He was transported home.

A Harlem Road woman reported that an acquaintance
stole her 2008 Pontiac. The culprit had driven her home in
her car the night before because she was drunk. The
complainant did not know the suspect’s name.

A Harrison Avenue resident reported a man walking
through several gardens and back yards. When questioned
by police, the man claimed to be heading home, walking
through the lawns because God wanted him to clean up
the Earth.







A house on Dellwood Road was egged overnight and
three slices of bologna found on the windows.

 Officers received a complaint of suspicious activity on
Fourth Avenue. The complainant reported seeing a man
hugging several trees.

A Delaware Avenue resident reported that her neighbor
might be harboring a rooster.




A woman complained that she went into a facility on Alberta
Drive for blood work and when she left she realized her car had
been stolen. The misplaced vehicle was located on the other side
of the building.

Someone broke into an apartment on Pacecrest Court and stole
a multicolored disco ball light from a dresser drawer. Owner
needed the ball for a dance that night.

A man called from Maple Road to report an encounter he had with a raccoon the
previous night. He said the raccoon challenged him.




A Lancaster woman reported she suspected her husband, with whom she is in the
middle of a divorce, put bird droppings on top of the coffee grounds in her coffee
maker.

Police were called to Paradise Road where a man was on
the roadside cutting up a deer with a chainsaw. When
police responded they discovered a man working on a
fallen tree, not an animal.

A Mapleton Drive woman told police she could hear
voices through her smoke detector.

A dispute was reported on Grandview Drive because a
mother wouldn’t give her 16-year-old daughter the cell
phone charger.

A patrol observed a vehicle pull onto Seneca Street
without yielding to traffic and nearly causing an accident.
When asked how much he had been drinking, the driver
said, “Too much to be driving.” When asked to perform
field sobriety tests, the man replied,” Why bother? I won’t
pass them.”

A one-legged turkey was reportedly in the middle of
Willow Ridge Drive. The complainant said the bird was
unable to move to the side, but it chased the patrol car
that responded.

A patrol stopped a vehicle on Seneca Street because it
had a missing brake light. The driver could not produce
her license, but told the officer her date of birth was
March 3, 1982. However, the driver appeared to be about
50 years old. Investigation revealed she was
impersonating her daughter, who was also in the vehicle.
The suspect was lying because her driver’s license had
expired in June 1996.

Deputies responded to a home on Billington Road after
receiving a report from a resident that a ground hog was
attacking her cat.

and. . . . .

A jogger found what he thought might be a bag of marijuana. Police determined it was actually oregano.

A group of kids were playing hockey in the street on California Road.

A dog was howling on Abbott Road.

A man was charged with criminal trespass after he fell asleep on a sump pump in an apartment complex storage shed.

  

   
     

fever state

1.

I really wanted to write something here

today,

but I woke up with

a fever.

Aching, coughing, miserable,

the whole nine yards.

I felt really crappy

about the fact

I could barely move without 

crying,

until I heard a story about this man

on  National Public Radio's  "This American Life." 

Here's a link to the whole story:

Held Hostage

There are at least four stories in this radio program,

but the one that made me think I'd better get my ass out of bed

is called "I've Fallen In Love and I Can't Get Up."

This is a story about Chris Higgins,

who has something called 

Narcolepsy with Cataplexy.

I would not like what Chris has.

Narcolepsy, as you probably know, is a neurological disorder

wherein you fall asleep while you're going through your daily life.

Add cataplexy to it, and you lose muscle tone when you receive certain emotional stimuli.

Generally good emotional stimuli.  

So if Chris is gazing at his grandchildren, happy that they're 

beautiful and happy and healthy, he has an attack - ie: he loses all muscle tone and falls

asleep.  In the radio show, he talks about how he goes to his brother's wedding, and instructs people to just lean him against the wall so he looks attentive.  And that's what he did.  There are pictures of him,

propped up against the wall, I guess.  Looking at the pictures, or even just talking

about them will also give him an attack.

The result of this disorder is that the sufferer has to make every attempt

to avoid happy situations.  

This, as you might imagine, makes life very difficult

for his wife.

Love, itself, is debilitating for him.

2.

Now I'm a blogger who sings 

the praises and power of love,

so I felt a deep sadness for Chris Higgins,

and it really kind of woke me up,

and made me think of a thought that I've had

several times over the past six to nine months:

Love, itself, for living creatures,

can be absolutely debilitating. 

Love sickness causes us to

lose our minds,

and the conditions that can occur when you lose the thing you love

can be even worse,

especially if you are a sensitive person.

Having the person or object you love begin to treat you badly

can actually lower your resistance to a number of other illnesses,

and absolutely losing the beloved sometimes changes a person's health

and happiness forever.  It can be incurable.

Despite the fact that I continually

conclude my channelings and ramblings with

the concept that love is the only answer to all our woes,

I also often wonder if,

as long as we live in our earthly avatars,

we might be better off without love.

3.

Consider, for instance,

the psychopath.  I have encountered the idea recently that the 

psychopath might actually be the next stage in

human evolution:

"The goal of evolution is to maximize a specie's chance of survival, and there is evidence to show that the basis of psychopathy is an heritable predisposition to the disorder, a disorder which enhances the psychopathic individual's chance of survival. Therefore, is psychopathy indeed the result of human evolution?"  ( Psychopathy:an Evolutionary Perspective )

(kari'sblog)

After all, it is love, and emotional connections, that will cause a human to go back into a burning building to retrieve a baby, or a dog, or a bird.  Love causes women and men

to stay in destructive relationships; love also produces martyrs.  Consider, for instance,

the case of Jesus Christ and Noor-un-nisa Vilayet Kahn (I've written a bit about her earlier in this blog.)

Love is the primary motive of their martyrdom.  Love and the willing loss of selfhood 

for the sake of the collective human race.

Now, in this day and age,

many people may think that's just plain crazy.

If a species intends to survive, 

it's best off just leaving its emotions at the door.

If this is the case, perhaps Mr. Higgins' Narcolepsy/Cataplexy

actually marks an advancement of the species

which happened in his brain 

during this lifetime.

4.

Now I'm the first to admit that this is a troubling concept,

and that I find the human capacity to love to be

 the thing that makes us divine;

otherwise, we're little more than animals.

But after all, we are only animals - right? 

And as I've argued elsewhere, we were born into our animalistic avatars 

(these bodies)

in order to live on this earth.

I've also contemplated elsewhere the concepts of

creation,

the Fall,

evolution,

the soul

and a bunch of other really heady stuff like that.

In fact, much of this blog is about heady stuff like that

and I'm absolutely stunned and thrilled to see

there are a couple people out there in the world

who have actually returned to this blog and read

more than one of my rambling, channeled entries.

I thank you.

In a few of my entries, I contemplate what happened

when Adam ate that apple.

And here I would like to add another thought to that

theme:

when Adam ate that apple

(of course because Eve made him do it)

he became, as the Book of Genesis tells us

more like God.

Being more like God 

is being able to look at the creation

and love it.

Before Adam ate the apple,

I'd venture to suggest,

he and Eve were really nothing but

animals.

Happy animals, at that, 

and animals who were given the 

ability to use words,

but animals, nonetheless.

So it is possible that one of the effects of eating

the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge

was the man suddenly had the capacity to look at his mate,

and fall in love.

Love is an emotion that is God-like;

love requires an all-encompassing gaze

and absolute forgiveness, 

which man, in his earthly avatar

and its limited function,

is incapable of doing.

Following this line of thinking,

love is what makes us God-like,

but it is also the thing

that can kill us,

as individuals

and as a species.

5.

In the realm of the undead and undying,

which is where Makropoulos lives,

most human entities 

have something akin to Narcolepsy with Cataplexy.

They can't be happy; they can't love;

they have to maintain a certain level of misery and pain and predatorial lust

in order to survive.

The problem with Makropoulos

me

is that I was damned by a selfish man

to live forever young,

but I was not wired to not love.

I can love;

I do love;

it is essential to me.

A prerequisite of love is the capacity to be selfless.

I will love you

if I let myself,

like I can read your mind

if I let myself;

I've simply learned how to not let myself do either,

because if I permit myself to do 

one or the other or both,

if I open the barriers I've learned to put up,

the pain and horror of what I encounter

is so horrible and heartbreaking,

I know I will surely go insane.

I won't go on with that; 

read other parts of the blog

if you want to know who Makropoulos is.

6.

Sometimes I look at the young people today.

Either from being in a family where love didn't exist,

or from being subject to loveless media stimuli,

they have learned that loving 

is fatal, and so they don't do it.

Some are just born with the incapacity to love.

Perhaps, as a new generation,

they mark the evolution of humankind,

as well as the guarantee that we will survive as a species.

But if that is true, what of love,

and what of God?

This line of thinking marks the essence of the historical juncture at which we currently live:

we can either work, as a species,

to find a way to maintain the place of love on this earthly realm,

or we can make it a myth, an old magical tale long past its currency

and let the new generations of the loveless assure

the ongoing existence of our species.

The Hopefulness of the Chain Letter

1.

I got this e-mail the other day from an old friend.

It went like this:

Dear XXXX,  
You are my 8 women, who if we were in a room together, 
could accomplish anything we set our minds to. 
So read the directions below and send this to 7 more women. 
I count as the eighth woman. 
 
I am supposed to pick 7 women who have touched my life and who 
I think might participate. 
I think that if this group of women were ever to be in a room together, 
there is nothing that would be impossible. 
I hope I chose the right six... Please send this back to me.

Remember to make a wish before you read the quotation.. 
That's all you have to do. 
There is nothing attached. 
Just send this to six women and let me know what happens on the fourth day. 
Sorry you have to forward the message, 
but try not to break this, please. Did you make a wish yet? 
If you don't make a wish, it won't come true. This is your last chance to make a wish!
 
 

My room of 8

May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

Now, I really hate this kind of e-mail.

I hate this kind of e-mail for a couple reasons:

1.  I'm usually about the fourth in the chain, and by

the time it gets to me, the formatting of the actual

special little message is so messed up, I can't even read

the thing.  In the case of this message, it ran way off 

the page, and I had to scroll scroll scroll to read the

entire sentence.

2.  I often get them from people I haven't heard from in 

awhile, but they're people I care about.  So I want to let 

them know that I really value being one of the eight women

in her room of eight women, and the most efficient way to do that

is to send this message to eight women (one being her)

so she knows she's in my room of eight women, too.

3.  But then I leave six of my friends in the same quandary.

4. There's this question of something special, perhaps even magical

that will happen after four days.  Now, I happen to believe

in magic.

Or at least I'm hopeful.

So there's this tantalizing possibility

that in four days,

I'll discover something very 

mysterious and magical.

And part of me wants to believe

that that is possible.  When in 

actual fact, what I'll discover is

which of my friends is sucker enough

to send this on.

Probably one.

In fact, she did it already, because

I fell for it.

In a moment of weakness, I chose

that lucky seven.

(or should it be six?--

if I'm one and the friend

who sent me the message

is two, then it should be 

six.  Yes, it should be six.)

Whatever.

I did it.

And one of my friends

did it too

already.

3.

Well,

the morning after I sent this poorly formatted message

to seven lucky people, six of whom probably hit

"delete" without even bothering to read the thing,

I started thinking about it, 

and thinking about

why the heck I sent that

to my sister-in-law.

I actually really do like her.

And then, I started thinking,

as I am prone to do,

I started thinking about earlier versions of these

messages:

the chain letter.

(chainletterevolution an interesting article!)

I remember the first one I ever got,

when I was about eight years old.

I think it was from my cousin, S, and 

she sent this tightly folded sheet of 

notebook paper, scrawled in pencil, telling me to 

copy it and send it

to twelve other people.  The bulk of the letter

was a list of fifteen names, with my cousin's

at the bottom.  The letter told me to copy the letter, with all the names except the first one,

and make sure my name was

at the bottom of the list.

I was then supposed to take that name that I deleted from the top of the list

and send that person at the top of the list

one dollar.

The hope is that,

if I sent this letter to the right people,

they would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would send it to the right people,

who would

ultimately

all send me a dollar

and I'd be able to retire at the age of 

sixteen.

My mother

saw the letter, and said:

"don't you dare send that letter to twelve people,

and don't you dare send her a dollar.  I'm 

going to tell S's mother (my mother's sister)

that she's sending those awful things out."

Awful things.

"The only person who is going to make money off of that

will be your cousin, and she'll make a dollar,

off of you!"

That's what my mother said.

And I sure as hell wasn't going

to be a fool

and send my stinking cousin

a dollar.

So I threw the thing out,

with my mother watching,

before she marched to the phone

and called her sister.

From that point on,

I considered

chain letters to be

vile,

a thing of the devil,

designed to deceive

pathetic people

like me.

~

Moms seem to be central figures in Chain Letters, and they tend to be

the voices of reason:

I'm not sure when this happened,

but mom has been replaced:

the Federal Government has 

acknowledged that people who trust

are fools, and that people who start

chain letters are scam artists.

They made it illegal;

here's a message about that

from the 

Federal Trade Commission.

4.

Clearly,

there is an evil side to chain letters,

if chain letters

threaten

death to your mother

death to you

death to your dog

traffic accidents

bad dreams

whatever. . . .

It appears that the internet has caused 

the proliferation

of this genre

and no one is ever

asked to send

a dollar

to anyone anymore,

you just have to send the thing on

or be scared shitless.

That particularly type of chain letter

tends to target young people

who are easily scared shitless.

Now, why isn't there a law about that?

5.

The thing about Chain Letters

and our distrust of them

is that in our society,

there is the belief

that there are, essentially,

two different kind of people:

the scammers

and

the scammed;

aka

the wise

and 

the stupid;

aka

the deceitful

and

the trusting;

aka

the evil

and 

the good

and the two twains shall never meet,

and people never change.

This is a fundamental premise in our society.

And people are, either by choice or by nature,

one or the other,

and

if you send a dollar to the first name on the chain letter,

you will surely 

never receive a dollar.

You're better off

not sending the dollar and therefore not receiving the dollar,

rather than sending the dollar and being made to look like

a fool.

6.

Still, I look back

at the message I sent

to seven of my most forgiving friends,

and I am struck by the hope in it

a hope not too different

from my youthful hope

as I contemplating sending a dollar to someone I didn't know.

That message promised me something

magical,

something special.

And I think:

what is the most magical thing that could happen?

I won't get a penny,

nor will any of my friends,

but perhaps,

if I could throw aside my distrust --

indeed, if distrust was not the norm --

in four days,

my inbox will have six or seven messages in it

from six or seven women who would put me 

in their room of eight,

and each of those messages would have

the names of seven other women;

and each of those women would get e-mails

in four days

with seven more friends of friends.

And all these women let themselves think, for a little while at least:

May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

We would create an endless chain of women

all living in a virtual place called

our collective brains,

and if we all worked together,

we might actually accomplish

something peaceful 

and good.

We'd be wise, too,

to invite men, as well.

Men who won't break the chain.

Inherent in this type of chain letter

is a belief 

that there is a potential magic

in collective action

when that action involves

positive thought,

or thought that is grounded

unselfishly, 

in love.

Now that's worth more than a dollar.

~

At the heart of the chain letter,

even the evil chain letter,

are some essential human

emotions:

hope and fear, and

they are two sides

of the same coin

that we tender as we

plan for the future.

We hope for more money;

we fear someone will 

kill us

before we get more money,

and we fret over that

and then

we do nothing;

and nothing happens to us.

Society has a job

to keep us from

deceiving and destroying one another,

but that job would be easier

if people took the risk

to trust, 

to show love,

to love 

and 

be loved.

Generally,

for most people, 

the concept of doing those things

is pretty geeky, stupid, weak

gullible, naive,

when in actual fact,

to do those things

takes the most superhuman strength 

one can imagine.

And that could

have the power

to make magic.

Naive,

young, even,

but look at me,

after 424 years

of watching people

deceive,

lie,

kill,

rape,

abuse,

tease,

torment,

etcetcetcetc,

this is the only thing that makes sense.