Michael Sortomme's Blog
September 13, 2013
Yom Kippur, September 13, 2013
Yom Kippur, September 13, 2013
Michael Sortomme © 2013
www.michaelsortomme.com
Wherever you live on this planet, tonight at sunset, begins the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, Yom Kippur. During this 25-hour worship, one is transported through fasting, meditation, retrospection and prayer to an inner place so sacred that she/he feels the presence of G-d, knowable, communicative and real to the touch. For some pious believers, slates are wiped clean, sins are forgiven and life begins afresh for another turn of the wheel.
Today, we face the realities of war with yet another country, Syria. War is a human constant, a way to control populations, fortify power-bases and frontier borders—the roar of lions heard and reverberated. Yet, there exists innocents in every corner of our world, those too small, weak or confused to stand and fight for a place of comfort. What do those of us who possess the inner power to fight for another day of food and drink do for those who do not have power, skills and connections? Do we turn a blind eye to their suffering and call it Karma, do we finance an air war filled with the potential of many more innocent lives lost, do we give to the Red Cross or Crescent and call it good? These questions are plentiful, more than the kernels of corn that fill baskets meant for the hungry, not one has an easy answer. Regardless, the reality of what to do still lingers hauntingly in the deep night.
During times of war, we are barraged by the statement that our volunteer military, paid to fight for our government’s priorities and financial interests, are “fighting for our freedom.” We as a nation today, 68% of the voting populace of the United States, according to CNN, are against a military strike on Syria, in order to save its populace from chemical warfare from within. So, what shall we do for those small and helpless gassed people living in the hills and valleys of the Levant? The very hills Abraham grazed his sheep, sacrificed and eaten during times of holiness and plenty; this is the place I speak of, ruined by a constant barrage of bullets and bombs. Aleppo, one of the oldest cities on Earth, a UNESCO heritage site, is leveled and almost unrecognizable, only fodder left for generations of archeologists to come. It is the birthplace of my maternal Ancestors, my true genetic home, helpless, hopeless, sitting in rubble. Think of our collective history in ruins! Is our reluctance to help a fairly poor country led by a maniacal dictator, without the luxury of many natural resources to fuel our glutinous cities, because military action would not be for “our” freedom, or is it because of our collective greed, not wanting to risk our resources for unknown innocents?
Peace is difficult to define, but can be looked on in Shamanic terms. In order to achieve it, great holes must be made, excising poison where only near-death existed. This is the first step in healing, cutting the damage away, filling the empty spaces with medicine, stitching the wounds closed in order to heal. Then, peace can have a foothold, a clean place to grow. The peacemaker is a surgeon with finely honed skills. Achieving peace is dangerous and has a high price, now and always—bargain hunters need not apply.
When you light the Shabbas candles tonight and drink your last glass of wine before the great Yom Kippur fast begins, pour a bit of that precious glass of libation onto the ground and watch it absorb into “our” Mother Earth. Then, ask what price is freedom. We are not alone on this planet, borders, boundaries and realities are blurred constantly. What constitutes your place of peace, your home, and does it belong only to you or to the planet at large? Aleppo belongs to the entire world; it constitutes our collective Judeo-Christian history for the last 6,000 years. Is she worth saving, as a home, a place of worship, and a desert garden of peace? Do the children of Syria, fair skinned and green-eyed, no different from the moral majority of the United States of America in looks and desire, have the right to wake up tomorrow for prayers of thanksgiving for another day of life? We must all ask our inner Godhead what constitutes peace and how to achieve it on this Holy Night and coming day of sacrifice and prayer. How can you be a constructive peacemaker, in your world for your family and others? What does “your freedom” mean and are you willing to create and fight for it? Are you willing to fight for others weaker than you?
Shalom, today and always!
Michael Sortomme © 2013
www.michaelsortomme.com
Wherever you live on this planet, tonight at sunset, begins the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, Yom Kippur. During this 25-hour worship, one is transported through fasting, meditation, retrospection and prayer to an inner place so sacred that she/he feels the presence of G-d, knowable, communicative and real to the touch. For some pious believers, slates are wiped clean, sins are forgiven and life begins afresh for another turn of the wheel.
Today, we face the realities of war with yet another country, Syria. War is a human constant, a way to control populations, fortify power-bases and frontier borders—the roar of lions heard and reverberated. Yet, there exists innocents in every corner of our world, those too small, weak or confused to stand and fight for a place of comfort. What do those of us who possess the inner power to fight for another day of food and drink do for those who do not have power, skills and connections? Do we turn a blind eye to their suffering and call it Karma, do we finance an air war filled with the potential of many more innocent lives lost, do we give to the Red Cross or Crescent and call it good? These questions are plentiful, more than the kernels of corn that fill baskets meant for the hungry, not one has an easy answer. Regardless, the reality of what to do still lingers hauntingly in the deep night.
During times of war, we are barraged by the statement that our volunteer military, paid to fight for our government’s priorities and financial interests, are “fighting for our freedom.” We as a nation today, 68% of the voting populace of the United States, according to CNN, are against a military strike on Syria, in order to save its populace from chemical warfare from within. So, what shall we do for those small and helpless gassed people living in the hills and valleys of the Levant? The very hills Abraham grazed his sheep, sacrificed and eaten during times of holiness and plenty; this is the place I speak of, ruined by a constant barrage of bullets and bombs. Aleppo, one of the oldest cities on Earth, a UNESCO heritage site, is leveled and almost unrecognizable, only fodder left for generations of archeologists to come. It is the birthplace of my maternal Ancestors, my true genetic home, helpless, hopeless, sitting in rubble. Think of our collective history in ruins! Is our reluctance to help a fairly poor country led by a maniacal dictator, without the luxury of many natural resources to fuel our glutinous cities, because military action would not be for “our” freedom, or is it because of our collective greed, not wanting to risk our resources for unknown innocents?
Peace is difficult to define, but can be looked on in Shamanic terms. In order to achieve it, great holes must be made, excising poison where only near-death existed. This is the first step in healing, cutting the damage away, filling the empty spaces with medicine, stitching the wounds closed in order to heal. Then, peace can have a foothold, a clean place to grow. The peacemaker is a surgeon with finely honed skills. Achieving peace is dangerous and has a high price, now and always—bargain hunters need not apply.
When you light the Shabbas candles tonight and drink your last glass of wine before the great Yom Kippur fast begins, pour a bit of that precious glass of libation onto the ground and watch it absorb into “our” Mother Earth. Then, ask what price is freedom. We are not alone on this planet, borders, boundaries and realities are blurred constantly. What constitutes your place of peace, your home, and does it belong only to you or to the planet at large? Aleppo belongs to the entire world; it constitutes our collective Judeo-Christian history for the last 6,000 years. Is she worth saving, as a home, a place of worship, and a desert garden of peace? Do the children of Syria, fair skinned and green-eyed, no different from the moral majority of the United States of America in looks and desire, have the right to wake up tomorrow for prayers of thanksgiving for another day of life? We must all ask our inner Godhead what constitutes peace and how to achieve it on this Holy Night and coming day of sacrifice and prayer. How can you be a constructive peacemaker, in your world for your family and others? What does “your freedom” mean and are you willing to create and fight for it? Are you willing to fight for others weaker than you?
Shalom, today and always!
July 3, 2013
Life Experiences
When you write down your life experiences, they appear as random puzzle pieces at first. Then, near the end of the goal you set, a wondrous thing happens: all the pieces fit together and all of a sudden, there is sense and patterns made—all for you to learn from!
Michael Sortomme © 2013
Michael Sortomme © 2013
May 24, 2013
Memorial Day Weekend
Memorial Day Weekend
Michael Sortomme © 2013
www.michaelsortomme.com
I am a genetic world traveler, a Sámi/Jewish/Rromany/Traveller, who remembers my intrepid Ancestors fondly on a daily basis. As we all gather to celebrate Memorial Day this year, despite climate change catastrophes, fighting several wars, some covert, some acknowledged, I remind us all to look deeply within and remember our people, regardless where our roots lie.
Today, May 24th, is a Holy Day for Rromany people, the Feast Day for our collective ruling Mother, Saint Sarah, known to us as Sara e Kali. Hundreds and sometimes thousands from all over the world gather in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, France, on this day, each year. The ancient Occitan Capital where many believe Mary Magdalene landed with her daughter Sarah, fleeing extermination of the 1st Century Levant, fills with psychedelic colors and loud voices all our own that are fearsome for some. In an ancient church that still stands complete, a statue of Saint Sarah stands to greet her guests with a faint smile, Her shining black face full of serene expectation.
The first time I heard an old recording from post-World War II of Zingari Elders singing laments and prayers for protection and calls of praise, I wept with the knowledge of my genetic past. Today I do the same, remembering tribulations of the Shoah and worldwide prejudice that forces many of us to stay in hiding, generation after generation. I also cry with joy, hearing the beautiful dulcet tones of Gitano guitars, the beat of Flamenco feet and the elevated notes of the giant golden harps of the Polska Roma. Few of our people still travel the roads of the Campania, but we travel in our hearts and minds, like the Chovihani mystics of the Sinti did and continue to do so, over time and space, through despair and longing, to find our heart-home, always welcoming, always there.
Blessed Be our collective Ancestors on these few days dedicated to remembering.
Shalom, today and always….
Michael Sortomme © 2013
www.michaelsortomme.com
I am a genetic world traveler, a Sámi/Jewish/Rromany/Traveller, who remembers my intrepid Ancestors fondly on a daily basis. As we all gather to celebrate Memorial Day this year, despite climate change catastrophes, fighting several wars, some covert, some acknowledged, I remind us all to look deeply within and remember our people, regardless where our roots lie.
Today, May 24th, is a Holy Day for Rromany people, the Feast Day for our collective ruling Mother, Saint Sarah, known to us as Sara e Kali. Hundreds and sometimes thousands from all over the world gather in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, France, on this day, each year. The ancient Occitan Capital where many believe Mary Magdalene landed with her daughter Sarah, fleeing extermination of the 1st Century Levant, fills with psychedelic colors and loud voices all our own that are fearsome for some. In an ancient church that still stands complete, a statue of Saint Sarah stands to greet her guests with a faint smile, Her shining black face full of serene expectation.
The first time I heard an old recording from post-World War II of Zingari Elders singing laments and prayers for protection and calls of praise, I wept with the knowledge of my genetic past. Today I do the same, remembering tribulations of the Shoah and worldwide prejudice that forces many of us to stay in hiding, generation after generation. I also cry with joy, hearing the beautiful dulcet tones of Gitano guitars, the beat of Flamenco feet and the elevated notes of the giant golden harps of the Polska Roma. Few of our people still travel the roads of the Campania, but we travel in our hearts and minds, like the Chovihani mystics of the Sinti did and continue to do so, over time and space, through despair and longing, to find our heart-home, always welcoming, always there.
Blessed Be our collective Ancestors on these few days dedicated to remembering.
Shalom, today and always….
Heaven, Hell and the “University”
Heaven, Hell and the “University”
Michael Sortomme © 2013
Over the last five decades, many have asked if I have seen heaven or hell. True, most who have asked this question had ulterior motives, desiring to proselytize their particular faiths to anyone who would listen—reassuring me that there were, indeed, such places of paradise and torture. Others were sincere queries for those searching for themselves in the answers of others. It is for these special questioners that I answer this over-asked and sometimes, contentious inquiry.
I have experienced many altered states and near death experiences in this life, as a Rememberer (one who remembers numerous past-lifetimes, including names, dates and places), Shamanic Practitioner and Reiki Master. NOT once have I experienced or remember heaven or hell, though I have lived through gruesome memories and elated states, both with equal measure. I believe heaven and hell are archetypes, developed by our Ancestors to make life and its tumult easier to deal with. A promise at the end of life is sometimes the only thing that keeps one going. We make our reality and G-d is located in the human heart and brain; there is little need to look outside of the Self for comfort, though praying out-loud is helpful and soothing, from time to time.
The state in between lives, if one is NOT a rapid-reincarnator, I call the “University”. I have seen it and have had many “meetings” there through the years. It’s a HUGE campus, with rolling lawns and pastoral overlooks that is always springtime, without the pollen, mind you. It would NOT be overstepping bounds to equate this state of consciousness as the Summerland that Witches universally speak of, well, at least the endlessness of warm, flowering days and balmy nights.
There, one takes classes, talks with brilliant minds, understands one’s limitations and restrictions put on one’s self in the last life and prepares to be a better human in the next. I have also met several of my personal Ancestors there, including my mother, Sarah, who passed away in 1982. It’s NOT a place one can just go to in the here and now, it just is, a stable place of learning and introspection, sharing and comparing of notes. Sometimes living humans are transported there by their Higher Minds, when one is close to death, has an important message from a dead Ancestor or when a demanding teacher needs immediate attention, or when one is actually dead. This is NOT a place of fantasy, it is made for hard work, it’s exciting, exhilarating and refreshing, because only TRUTH is spoken there, far different than our world. There is no need for an up to date wardrobe—it is timeless—and the glass elevators are AWESOME!!! Perhaps you will see it one special day when the restrictions of the physical body are no longer needed. In the meantime, don’t rush the need for the experience—there is so much to learn in this place called Earth.
Michael Sortomme © 2013
Over the last five decades, many have asked if I have seen heaven or hell. True, most who have asked this question had ulterior motives, desiring to proselytize their particular faiths to anyone who would listen—reassuring me that there were, indeed, such places of paradise and torture. Others were sincere queries for those searching for themselves in the answers of others. It is for these special questioners that I answer this over-asked and sometimes, contentious inquiry.
I have experienced many altered states and near death experiences in this life, as a Rememberer (one who remembers numerous past-lifetimes, including names, dates and places), Shamanic Practitioner and Reiki Master. NOT once have I experienced or remember heaven or hell, though I have lived through gruesome memories and elated states, both with equal measure. I believe heaven and hell are archetypes, developed by our Ancestors to make life and its tumult easier to deal with. A promise at the end of life is sometimes the only thing that keeps one going. We make our reality and G-d is located in the human heart and brain; there is little need to look outside of the Self for comfort, though praying out-loud is helpful and soothing, from time to time.
The state in between lives, if one is NOT a rapid-reincarnator, I call the “University”. I have seen it and have had many “meetings” there through the years. It’s a HUGE campus, with rolling lawns and pastoral overlooks that is always springtime, without the pollen, mind you. It would NOT be overstepping bounds to equate this state of consciousness as the Summerland that Witches universally speak of, well, at least the endlessness of warm, flowering days and balmy nights.
There, one takes classes, talks with brilliant minds, understands one’s limitations and restrictions put on one’s self in the last life and prepares to be a better human in the next. I have also met several of my personal Ancestors there, including my mother, Sarah, who passed away in 1982. It’s NOT a place one can just go to in the here and now, it just is, a stable place of learning and introspection, sharing and comparing of notes. Sometimes living humans are transported there by their Higher Minds, when one is close to death, has an important message from a dead Ancestor or when a demanding teacher needs immediate attention, or when one is actually dead. This is NOT a place of fantasy, it is made for hard work, it’s exciting, exhilarating and refreshing, because only TRUTH is spoken there, far different than our world. There is no need for an up to date wardrobe—it is timeless—and the glass elevators are AWESOME!!! Perhaps you will see it one special day when the restrictions of the physical body are no longer needed. In the meantime, don’t rush the need for the experience—there is so much to learn in this place called Earth.
March 27, 2013
PASSOVER 2013 CE
Embrace your real nature—dare yourself to evolve fully, bravely, severely. Be the Light—start afresh!
Make truth your reality, not a diminished thought.
Eat well, drink your fill, leave the door open—the past will great you in order to create the future.
Next year in JeruSalem!
Blessed Be!
Michael Sortomme, Passover 2013 CE
Make truth your reality, not a diminished thought.
Eat well, drink your fill, leave the door open—the past will great you in order to create the future.
Next year in JeruSalem!
Blessed Be!
Michael Sortomme, Passover 2013 CE
December 20, 2012
12-21-2012
STAND AND BE HEARD!
BE THE LIGHT!
CREATE PEACE!
PREPARE TO EVOLVE: 12-21-12!
BE THE LIGHT!
CREATE PEACE!
PREPARE TO EVOLVE: 12-21-12!
November 20, 2012
Not a time for politics?
Not a time for politics?
Michael Sortomme © 11-20-2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Regardless of your sway, life is political. Every social act, whether positive or negative, is political. That is the way of our world today, yesterday and always—we all take sides! We can hope for improvement in the future, but, for now, politics is our shared reality.
Not to anyone’s surprise, the Middle East is living up to its reputation; it is on fire and screaming for revenge. Who is screaming? Who are the victims? Who are the bullies? EVERYONE is the answer—no one nation’s people purer or more evil than the next, all victimized by violence, whether precipitated by on “outside” force, or cultivated from an inside passion.
How can we change this reality? We can’t, not on a worldwide scale—if one is determined to cause pain there is NOTHING another can do to stop it because it is the source’s choice to embrace negative control. If both parties, in any dispute, are resolute on destruction, both parties will fail—no one wins, all lose, all fall, perhaps never to rise again.
What can thinking, feeling people do, from the outside, to improve our universal drive to use violence? Education: know subjects from more than one perspective, know history, do not run away from truth, even if it hurts! Share your constructive solutions widely, regardless if they appear to be heeded. Rise above mediocrity. Do not accept any media as truth, including news that is conjured from “an unbiased agenda”, which simply does not exist, regardless if one is liberal or conservative. This action will lead to incorrect information, regardless of one’s motivation to search for “truth”.
Trust people, question government, and, as always, be the best person you can be! If one embraces the concept of Mitzvah, of holy giving from the heart, there would be far less pain in the world for us all to deal with. Embrace generosity before judging other’s motivations; you just might be surprised at what you find—you might NOT be as alone as you had previously thought…
Michael Sortomme © 11-20-2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Regardless of your sway, life is political. Every social act, whether positive or negative, is political. That is the way of our world today, yesterday and always—we all take sides! We can hope for improvement in the future, but, for now, politics is our shared reality.
Not to anyone’s surprise, the Middle East is living up to its reputation; it is on fire and screaming for revenge. Who is screaming? Who are the victims? Who are the bullies? EVERYONE is the answer—no one nation’s people purer or more evil than the next, all victimized by violence, whether precipitated by on “outside” force, or cultivated from an inside passion.
How can we change this reality? We can’t, not on a worldwide scale—if one is determined to cause pain there is NOTHING another can do to stop it because it is the source’s choice to embrace negative control. If both parties, in any dispute, are resolute on destruction, both parties will fail—no one wins, all lose, all fall, perhaps never to rise again.
What can thinking, feeling people do, from the outside, to improve our universal drive to use violence? Education: know subjects from more than one perspective, know history, do not run away from truth, even if it hurts! Share your constructive solutions widely, regardless if they appear to be heeded. Rise above mediocrity. Do not accept any media as truth, including news that is conjured from “an unbiased agenda”, which simply does not exist, regardless if one is liberal or conservative. This action will lead to incorrect information, regardless of one’s motivation to search for “truth”.
Trust people, question government, and, as always, be the best person you can be! If one embraces the concept of Mitzvah, of holy giving from the heart, there would be far less pain in the world for us all to deal with. Embrace generosity before judging other’s motivations; you just might be surprised at what you find—you might NOT be as alone as you had previously thought…
November 7, 2012
Election Day, 2012
Election Day, 2012
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Contention was promised and delivered pre and post Hurricane Sandy. The country’s core divisions based on race and religion did not bode well, pre-election, especially for a pro-labor liberal democrat, one who had never bowed to religious convention. Romney’s reality had spun in my head for months and escalated to dizziness when Paul Ryan signed his allegiance with Romney, becoming the radically pro-life Vice-Presidential candidate. I was freshly out of college when Row VS Wade was voted into law; I knew the horrors of abortions gone wrong and the guilt of bringing children into a world that did not expect or want them; my friends suffered in the 1960’s and 70’s, when men rarely took responsibility for their mishaps. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood was becoming a looming reality. The thought of these men, who had such cavalier attitudes toward women, minorities, the poor, dictating our Nation’s laws was frightening. The race was 50-50, anyone’s game…
I stood in front of our house, early on Election Day, surveying the property, relishing the newly finished yard work. The Pole, what would its future be? Mark and I planted the twenty foot tall lavender Peace Pole with the word PEACE painted in green in thirteen languages. It took days painting letter by letter, using words I could not pronounce. When the US invaded Afghanistan, we felt there was need to stand for a political goal, wanting to take our thoughts out of our heads and manifest them in a new form, one that could be seen and heard. Ten years later, the Pole is developing cracks, its bent slightly to the East, crooked. The words have faded slightly, but its copper top still shone and people take precious time to watch and feel it, as part of their walking routines. The Pole clashed with the garden, the house, the neighborhood; the small town inhabitants viewed us as entertaining, vestiges of a lost age. But, it expressed who we were then, and still are—a decade later—holding space for PEACE, all day, every day.
If a political team, hell-bent to stop all “entitlement” payments to the poor, desiring to eliminate public education and abortion, curb the ways in which women obtain birth control, stop national healthcare from manifesting, how far would they take their perceived power? Who would they imprison, what would they illegalize, what Supreme Court Justices would they put in place for life? The questions were endless: a Mormon and a Catholic dictating family values for 360,000,000 people. Would we be persecuted for having rainbow stickers on the front window? For having reincarnation bumper stickers: Born Again & Again & Again….? And, our favorite: “The last time religion and politics mixed, people were burned at the stake.” Okay, in this country in 1692, the Puritans lynched their non-believers, but you get the point… How would we fair with militant conservatives in power? Would we be forced from our own country, from our home? It had happened a million times before, on almost every continent, people forced from their comfort, from everything they knew and loved, driven to unknown ports of exile. Just how bad would it get?
I had not missed a federal election in 38 years, casting my first ballot for Jimmy Carter in the 1970’s. Weathered the Reagan years by leaving the country, survived the Bushes and even grew to respect Old Man Bush, especially since he had hung with good old Bill Clinton, from time to time. All those experiences seemed to blur, becoming less important than the NOW, as I stood sighing in front of our yellow house.
A fervent voter, dedicated to make my mark, regardless of the possibility of fraud or worst yet, bad choices, I had never been a fan of the Electoral College, not until November 6, 2012, yesterday. We expected a long night, listening to endless pundits pontificating bullshit. But, by about 10 PM, PST, the networks called the election, called Obama the winner, the intellectual democrats were reelected for a second term. In a state of disbelief, I sat in my mini-throne, warm in my turquoise blanket until 4 AM, waiting for a snafu, any blunder to surface. None came, but security was still illusive, as was sleep. By 9 AM, the election was secured; both public and electoral votes were in Obama and Biden’s favor.
Still sighing, smiling widely, some eight hours later, I gaze out my studio window and catch the last rays of gentle Fall light bounce off the copper-topped Peace Pole. Nope, no need to move to another country, or hide our politics or faith—we are free to be ourselves, for the time being, standing for PEACE, the best way we know how.
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Contention was promised and delivered pre and post Hurricane Sandy. The country’s core divisions based on race and religion did not bode well, pre-election, especially for a pro-labor liberal democrat, one who had never bowed to religious convention. Romney’s reality had spun in my head for months and escalated to dizziness when Paul Ryan signed his allegiance with Romney, becoming the radically pro-life Vice-Presidential candidate. I was freshly out of college when Row VS Wade was voted into law; I knew the horrors of abortions gone wrong and the guilt of bringing children into a world that did not expect or want them; my friends suffered in the 1960’s and 70’s, when men rarely took responsibility for their mishaps. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood was becoming a looming reality. The thought of these men, who had such cavalier attitudes toward women, minorities, the poor, dictating our Nation’s laws was frightening. The race was 50-50, anyone’s game…
I stood in front of our house, early on Election Day, surveying the property, relishing the newly finished yard work. The Pole, what would its future be? Mark and I planted the twenty foot tall lavender Peace Pole with the word PEACE painted in green in thirteen languages. It took days painting letter by letter, using words I could not pronounce. When the US invaded Afghanistan, we felt there was need to stand for a political goal, wanting to take our thoughts out of our heads and manifest them in a new form, one that could be seen and heard. Ten years later, the Pole is developing cracks, its bent slightly to the East, crooked. The words have faded slightly, but its copper top still shone and people take precious time to watch and feel it, as part of their walking routines. The Pole clashed with the garden, the house, the neighborhood; the small town inhabitants viewed us as entertaining, vestiges of a lost age. But, it expressed who we were then, and still are—a decade later—holding space for PEACE, all day, every day.
If a political team, hell-bent to stop all “entitlement” payments to the poor, desiring to eliminate public education and abortion, curb the ways in which women obtain birth control, stop national healthcare from manifesting, how far would they take their perceived power? Who would they imprison, what would they illegalize, what Supreme Court Justices would they put in place for life? The questions were endless: a Mormon and a Catholic dictating family values for 360,000,000 people. Would we be persecuted for having rainbow stickers on the front window? For having reincarnation bumper stickers: Born Again & Again & Again….? And, our favorite: “The last time religion and politics mixed, people were burned at the stake.” Okay, in this country in 1692, the Puritans lynched their non-believers, but you get the point… How would we fair with militant conservatives in power? Would we be forced from our own country, from our home? It had happened a million times before, on almost every continent, people forced from their comfort, from everything they knew and loved, driven to unknown ports of exile. Just how bad would it get?
I had not missed a federal election in 38 years, casting my first ballot for Jimmy Carter in the 1970’s. Weathered the Reagan years by leaving the country, survived the Bushes and even grew to respect Old Man Bush, especially since he had hung with good old Bill Clinton, from time to time. All those experiences seemed to blur, becoming less important than the NOW, as I stood sighing in front of our yellow house.
A fervent voter, dedicated to make my mark, regardless of the possibility of fraud or worst yet, bad choices, I had never been a fan of the Electoral College, not until November 6, 2012, yesterday. We expected a long night, listening to endless pundits pontificating bullshit. But, by about 10 PM, PST, the networks called the election, called Obama the winner, the intellectual democrats were reelected for a second term. In a state of disbelief, I sat in my mini-throne, warm in my turquoise blanket until 4 AM, waiting for a snafu, any blunder to surface. None came, but security was still illusive, as was sleep. By 9 AM, the election was secured; both public and electoral votes were in Obama and Biden’s favor.
Still sighing, smiling widely, some eight hours later, I gaze out my studio window and catch the last rays of gentle Fall light bounce off the copper-topped Peace Pole. Nope, no need to move to another country, or hide our politics or faith—we are free to be ourselves, for the time being, standing for PEACE, the best way we know how.
September 21, 2012
September 22, 2007: Salem Massachusetts
September 22, 2007
Salem Massachusetts
Excerpt from The Emancipation of Giles Corey
Michael Sortomme (c) 2010
"Sophie jumped from the car with determination in her step. She had
felt another stride would finish her off after Gallows Hill. Now she felt
renewed, under her own spell of closure. She was driven to complete the
Honoring with a sense of dignity and history at her heels. The twenty-second
of September would be remembered for all time in American history;
there was no way around it. People would forget October third, the official
end to the Court of Oyer and Terminer. Many Essex County residents
had wanted the court reinstated after October: they had not had their
fill of blood lust. Eventually public efforts to continue orders of execution
had been successful, although no more court-appointed killings were
actually carried out. The Puritan mind-set would not learn from its mistakes;
for that reason the movement died a quick death, morphing from
Puritan back to their original roots in Congregationalism. Still other dates
would fade, but the twenty-second of September never would, especially
for people who wore the modern self-given title of Witch. If Sophie had
her way, there would be a national moment of silence on the date. Her
activist mentality was charging her energy, and the others were filling up
on her passionate excess."
http://www.amazon.com/Emancipation-Gi... Emancipation, Amazon
Salem Massachusetts
Excerpt from The Emancipation of Giles Corey
Michael Sortomme (c) 2010
"Sophie jumped from the car with determination in her step. She had
felt another stride would finish her off after Gallows Hill. Now she felt
renewed, under her own spell of closure. She was driven to complete the
Honoring with a sense of dignity and history at her heels. The twenty-second
of September would be remembered for all time in American history;
there was no way around it. People would forget October third, the official
end to the Court of Oyer and Terminer. Many Essex County residents
had wanted the court reinstated after October: they had not had their
fill of blood lust. Eventually public efforts to continue orders of execution
had been successful, although no more court-appointed killings were
actually carried out. The Puritan mind-set would not learn from its mistakes;
for that reason the movement died a quick death, morphing from
Puritan back to their original roots in Congregationalism. Still other dates
would fade, but the twenty-second of September never would, especially
for people who wore the modern self-given title of Witch. If Sophie had
her way, there would be a national moment of silence on the date. Her
activist mentality was charging her energy, and the others were filling up
on her passionate excess."
http://www.amazon.com/Emancipation-Gi... Emancipation, Amazon
The Flu Vaccine—separating fact from fiction….
The Flu Vaccine—separating fact from fiction….
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
The modern flu vaccine fools the body to think it has the flu, the reason one gets queasy and tired for a few days after being injected. The normal bodily response is the flooding of the system with antibodies, a future protectorate from the very specific engines that cause the full-blown flu. The vaccine does NOT give you the flu however—this is an important designation that few understand.
There is a dangerous ingredient that is actually a preservative in the widely used vaccine one usually finds in a doctor’s office, called THYMEROSOL. This element, many feel, causes autism, seizures and down-right no-fun-no-win illnesses of many kinds, mainly neurological. The way around THYMEROSOL is to go to a pharmacist instead of a doctor (Walgreens, CVS, Payless, Safeway, etc.). Before paying for the vaccine, ask the pharmacist if they have the “natural, preservative-free” variety, without THYMEROSOL. If they don’t carry it, walk on by and don’t look back. If they have the good stuff, fork over the $28 price tag. Insurance/Medicaid DOES NOT pay for the good stuff, btw. Now, that’s a medical set-up, seriously!
There’s lots of controversy over vaccines in general; this time of the year, we are all bombarded by the fight, pro or con. A FRIENDLY REMINDER ABOUT VACCINES: if brave colonists, right here in this country, would not have risked and tried-out the theory of vaccination, many thousands more would have perished in the 1700’s of the largest smallpox plague to hit our shores before or since. Now, in this generation and the one that came before, after 300 years of successful vaccination programs in the US, parents have opted out of vaccines for their wee ones because of the spectral promise of autism—understandable on more than one level. But, because of this “new” attitude against general vaccination (really OLD thinking, pre-17th Century, in fact), whooping cough is now epidemic in the Pacific NW and new reported cases of smallpox, a once ridden curse on the world, is surfacing here too.
People who suffer from compromised immune systems (auto-immune disease, diabetes, cancer, heart disease, etc.) should NOT be without a flu vaccine—regardless of reason. This is further complicated by those who have health-care workers in their immediate families. Germs are germs, viruses are viruses; when brought to one’s doorstep, every member of the household stands to risk much, including their lives! That is the reason that I do not entertain others that have NOT been immunized for the flu, from late September to early May. The holidays can be lonely, but, I am alive and the flu vaccine is one reason for my longevity.
Bottom line: BUYER BEWARE, BUYER BE SMART!
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
The modern flu vaccine fools the body to think it has the flu, the reason one gets queasy and tired for a few days after being injected. The normal bodily response is the flooding of the system with antibodies, a future protectorate from the very specific engines that cause the full-blown flu. The vaccine does NOT give you the flu however—this is an important designation that few understand.
There is a dangerous ingredient that is actually a preservative in the widely used vaccine one usually finds in a doctor’s office, called THYMEROSOL. This element, many feel, causes autism, seizures and down-right no-fun-no-win illnesses of many kinds, mainly neurological. The way around THYMEROSOL is to go to a pharmacist instead of a doctor (Walgreens, CVS, Payless, Safeway, etc.). Before paying for the vaccine, ask the pharmacist if they have the “natural, preservative-free” variety, without THYMEROSOL. If they don’t carry it, walk on by and don’t look back. If they have the good stuff, fork over the $28 price tag. Insurance/Medicaid DOES NOT pay for the good stuff, btw. Now, that’s a medical set-up, seriously!
There’s lots of controversy over vaccines in general; this time of the year, we are all bombarded by the fight, pro or con. A FRIENDLY REMINDER ABOUT VACCINES: if brave colonists, right here in this country, would not have risked and tried-out the theory of vaccination, many thousands more would have perished in the 1700’s of the largest smallpox plague to hit our shores before or since. Now, in this generation and the one that came before, after 300 years of successful vaccination programs in the US, parents have opted out of vaccines for their wee ones because of the spectral promise of autism—understandable on more than one level. But, because of this “new” attitude against general vaccination (really OLD thinking, pre-17th Century, in fact), whooping cough is now epidemic in the Pacific NW and new reported cases of smallpox, a once ridden curse on the world, is surfacing here too.
People who suffer from compromised immune systems (auto-immune disease, diabetes, cancer, heart disease, etc.) should NOT be without a flu vaccine—regardless of reason. This is further complicated by those who have health-care workers in their immediate families. Germs are germs, viruses are viruses; when brought to one’s doorstep, every member of the household stands to risk much, including their lives! That is the reason that I do not entertain others that have NOT been immunized for the flu, from late September to early May. The holidays can be lonely, but, I am alive and the flu vaccine is one reason for my longevity.
Bottom line: BUYER BEWARE, BUYER BE SMART!
