our system’s sun

Native American activists in the Dakotas seeking to defend their lifeblood waters are being met by a militarized police force whose goal is to defend the short-term financial gains of a multinational corporate entity. This should not surprise anyone - since its inception, the American republic has abused, marginalized, and stolen from the indigenous tribespeople who originally inhabited Turtle Island (the North American continent). Previously, the Sioux tribe was forced violently from its ancestral lands by the U.S. military so that Americans of European Descent (i.e. white people) could take over the fields and valleys the tribe had for millennia groomed, tamed, and settled. Now, in the previously unwanted territories to which it was sent, the Sioux tribe is again under assault, this time so that an oil pipeline can be dug into its sacred soils and under its treasured rivers. Using technologies to capture and utilize solar power, America could run entirely on the nearly endless supply of fresh energy that arrives each morning from Sol, our system’s sun. Instead, America runs on old sunlight trapped by plants long ago in formations now buried deep below the earth - black, viscous old sunlight that must be pumped from deep underground before being moved often thousands of miles to refineries and storage dumps by pipeline, train, or truck. If each Ynki home or business were to collect its own solar electricity and use that self-generated power to cook food, make heat, or run electric automobiles, each Ynki home or business would become independent of (and by necessity take profits away from) the corporations that control this nation’s energy economy. These corporations want to make sure that American homes and businesses run on old and dirty rather than new and clean sunlight, since, this way, they get paid for each watt of energy used. Therefore, they spend untold millions of dollars lobbying against investment and research in solar-energy technologies; such technologies could upend their market dominance and disrupt their profit margins, and they will do nearly anything to maintain their stranglehold on consumer freedom. It bothers them not that the fluids containing old sunlight, if allowed to flow freely, tend to poison the land and pollute the waters - the only thing that matters to these corporations is that the Ynki simply can’t do without what they are selling and that he will pay a high price to maintain his addiction. If a person is concerned about the sad state of affairs in the Dakotas but cannot join the Standing Rock Sioux at their water protection sites, he ought consider reducing the amount of old sunlight he uses by heating less and driving fewer miles. Additionally, he ought contact his elected representatives and demand they work toward the adoption of solar energy initiatives instead of acquiescing to the demands of petroleum (old sunlight) producers. Stand strong, brave Sioux brothers and sisters rallying at Oceti Sakowin - this American author recognizes your sacrifice, and thanks you for it. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

yoga – its power

Self-healing, discipline, inner peace, awakening the animal spirit – all these things yoga brings, and more, so many more that I struggle to find words simple enough to describe its endless benefits. An ancient method for keeping the body limber by stretching out its limbs, yoga is practiced by millions of people around the world, every day. A boon to all aspects of this clumsy and poorly-executed stab at being human, since doing yoga daily my life has improved considerably.

First, my digestive system is functioning regularly and with little discomfort, and I can feel layers of muscle in the area of my core that I have not felt since childhood. Second, my injured shoulders are moving in ways that allow me to perform hours of hard labor every day, activities such as taking down trees and sawing and splitting wood that, without yoga, would be difficult and painful; with yoga, however, the arm-joints are loose and ready for work, popping and creaking nicely as I wind them through my sun salutations. Third, I am bringing my left leg back into such alignment with hip and spine it had before I crashed while snowboarding with improperly-adjusted bindings, tearing its Achilles-tendon. Fourth, yoga gives me something to do that I myself must do, and to which I must give my full concentration, something that must be done correctly and that cannot be cheated, short-cut, or jury-rigged, something that is honest, simple, and pure. And, finally, for the first time since my mother died a dozen years ago, I am building positive connections with that mysterious inner power that some people call god, others the soul, and others the voice of the ancestors, but, lacking a more appropriate term, that I style Tao, that tiny inner voice that is all too easily lost in the avalanche of sensory input coming from tablet, cellphone, listening device, billboard, bus-ad, HD television, and satellite radio.

The individual seeking to lay aside the artificial concerns and demands of this fascinating modern age in which we live clears herself and her mind of self-interested materialism and the need to be speaking constantly by doing yoga. This peaceful martial art reveals within her heaving bosom the very secrets of the universe itself, helping her to live a virtuous life replete with non-acts of selfless honor and enduring goodness, giving her the tools she needs to delve into her hidden deeps and to clear her mind of torment and woe. So broad is its reach, so uncomplicated are its moves, that one can do yoga anywhere and at any time; so great are its benefits that I can hardly imagine how I managed to lead a decent life before I doing yoga daily. (I realize in retrospect that I was living a less than decent life.) As with any activity, avoid charlatans merely seeking financial gain, and learn either from an instructional video or from a teacher whose stated goal is the student's personal betterment, not her own, personal wealth. With yoga, dear friend, life's little torments lose their sting, life's little joys are magnified tenfold, and the secrets of eternity blossom from deep within the glittering folds of mankind's everlasting and indomitable spirit. So quit your bitching, get to stretching, and, as always, keep a song in your heart and your head on a fucking swivel. Mahalo.

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