THE STORYTELLER'S MUSINGS

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A WORD ABOUT ME A small Bio first…although it is hard to write a view of the machinations of a long life. I've always wondered how anyone can write the one dimensional drivel that is, somehow, always required, so that another will have a favorable opinion of you. Life is too complex to say this is it; this is me in a neat and tidy package- By it's very creation it is nonsense. Every decision, every move, word, thought, interaction, vision, failure, success, lie, dream, curse, prayer, regret, joy, sadness, pain, injury, slight, ignorance, arrogance, judgment, love, hate, and all-and all, make up who we are and will be. As a writer, I see it as if we are born a great empty book in which we must write every word upon its page, whether we are villains or heroes. It is our choice and our burden. Or perhaps God writes the words and they are revealed to us as we travel this time line of our lives. For all of the thoughts of man; I believe we are more than we know.   As for me (here goes) I am hated by some and I am loved by more. I have thrown away the good too often and sometimes held on to the bad for too long. My friendships are long and dear, even if for a reason I have put them aside. (To those, forgive me!) I am often misunderstood and some times gotten. For the greater part of three decades I was a builder, skilled and proud of the work of my hands, inept at any ability to make or keep money, that skill has ever alluded me. I owned and ran businesses and several charities with some ability and I was always much too busy. Vocations are, often, no more than accidents we find ourselves in because the world demands us to give our due. A game we all join that demand our every attention and one we will not, in the end, win. The spirit, however, does not punch a time clock or fret over a date on which a sum must be paid to another. Nor does it care for the house you live or the car you drive or the rating of your credit; no care for how fat we are, or how skinny. No concern for how hale or how broken or in anyway that we would judge ourselves. I have many avocations and they have been the joy of my life. I am an artist, sculptor and teacher (Some may know me from the artist doll world.), a speaker, a singer- poet- composer-musician, writer-playwright (You decide how well I do that.), advisor, consultant, thinker, God intoxicated-monk, father, husband, jester and storyteller. In each of these endeavors I have, both, failed miserably and succeeded wonderfully. In the last few years I have endured a dreadful and painful disease that crippled me, leaving me mostly house bound and in a wheel chair. I am not, however, my pain or my infirmity. The door to the world I once lived was closed, but windows have flown open. In those last few years I have made myself proficient in the use of the computer. Twenty years ago, I opined on the darkness that technological road would lead. Life allows the flexibility to change ones mind and I have exercised that option. That darkness was, after all, a light cast full on my creativity. Last year, hooked on morphine, in agony and dying, I nearly slipped out of this mortal coil. Through the prayers of others the kindness and mercy of providence, I am miraculously recovered from the unrecoverable. The pain is subsiding and I can walk. I have dropped nearly a hundred pounds and find a new dawn in front of me- a clear celebration. So how do we determine our worth when a darkening world attaches our value to position, power, money, stuff, stress, and consumption.( All of this a part of a working world- and it does work.) I can't rue the efforts I made, the gains, loses and skills I garnered and the fun of being in the game. I loved it. My daughter once called, from college, in a terrible dour mood, and I heard myself say to her, that how we know ourselves is not in listening to the yammering of our minds but rather in finding something external to you that will reveal who you are. Listen or play music that moves you. Stare at a painting that rocks you. See a great movie or read a book. Laugh at a comedian that reveals your foibles. Do somersaults on the grass till your are dizzy. Hug someone and tell them you love them or tickle a child and be washed by that joyous laughter, move and dance, serve another, pet a happy dog, be calm in the purr of a satisfied feline, anything that in the doing has you look back on yourself. That person you see, at that moment, is who you are. The world has given me a time out, a breath, to find out a bit of truth about myself. I guess I don't know enough, about me, to write a Bio. Ken FEB.27 2006 Pitching for a President long live the King I felt the need to spout off about the time in which we find ourselves.  Maybe I'll shed a little hope on the nay Sayers - As well as splashing a little cold water on the childishly optimistic, Here it is!  The world is a mess and it has always been a mess, The reason for that is there are people in it. Marxism and Socialism fail because  people, even the best intended, are ass holes. Any one out there selling you the 'We are all the same.' agenda wants you to have the same as everyone else-that is, except for the ones trying to sell you. They want much more than us. Why? Because they fancy themselves smarter and more worthy than you.  You see, they are the only ones who take the time to figure out what is wrong with us and their decisions  are based on superior intellect and a truer understanding of the frailty of mankind.   It as their duty to fix you and me. So any social experiment that tries to homogenize people is doomed because a bigger asshole than us must be the boss. America works because the founders understood the nature of man. The system was built not because we are lofty creatures but because we are not. Money isn't the greatest corrupter, power is. Does that mean we are hopeless? No. God made us (Yes I believe that!) and has been doing his best to work out the kinks every since, Now having written this -your choice of an old cranky, self-righteous, gotta-be-right, Republican who will take the safety concerns of our Great Experiment to heart- is knowledgeable enough to do a reasonably good job at the most difficult job on the planet and will probably not bring us down to dreadful ruin, is a pretty good one. Or if your choice is  for a tall good-looking, intelligent, charismatic black man who is a complete novice at anything resembling executive skills (Motivational speaker aside) with a gift of gab and a knack for convincing us he is any thing  other than a dyed -in- the- wool socialist, closer to Lenin than to Jefferson, that's good too. Now, before you get your panties in an uproar at my politically incorrect descriptions. I need to tell you to take a look at your self-righteousness and see it as something you need to work on-the truth is the truth, And here is a surprise , truth should hurt-it should shake your self -important ass up. We are bombarded with 3000 ads a day, everyone an outright lie. Is it any wonder that we expect platitudes and niceties. We want to be lied to-we don't want to be uncomfortable. How else can you explain some of our greatest outrage is for the declining population of polar bears when we have so little concern for the hungry and homeless in our own towns. How else can you explain that we are more outraged by  a misspoken word relating to the behaviors of teachers, policemen,  and border patrol agents, toward criminals than the fact that we are in real danger from a radicalized Islam, who we have been at war with since 1776. (Look it up!) We seem to be incapable of looking at facts without tying in emotional responses. Again, why does that surprise you?  In the last sixty years we have been trained that way. What makes us feel good is good. That which makes us feel bad is very bad. Bush didn't hire and Ad Man to sell us on feeling good. George Bush made you Bush hatters feel bad so he is bad. Don't get too cozy Republicans- Ronald Reagan made me feel good so he is good. Most of the talking heads out there were naive youngsters when an actor was President. I don't forget that when the man was Governor he closed down all the State owned mental facilities and threw the disturbed onto the street. When I was a boy a Hobo was a choice-a  person of the road. A Homeless person is a creation of our society's unwillingness to face a real and growing problem, but then so is the Immigration problem, foreclosures, healthcare, inflation, recession, lost jobs, rising fuel costs, rising food costs, and on and on. Again don't start debating on what I said about Ronnie- the hospitals were overwhelmed and the State was broke and balancing the budget was something needed for the people of California to feel good. Homeless people make us feel bad. A great deal has gone wrong on both sides of the political spectrum and we still keep on going. We have forgotten that honest debate between people of integrity, with different views of the same problem, can accomplish a great deal. Let me say that whoever  is elected  will probably do a pretty good job. Why? Because no matter who we choose as the President- he or she- (For you 'hope float' types) is an asshole and every voter (Including me- is an asshole. The country is built  on the premise that we are all assholes and because of that, it doesn't matter, in the long run, what agenda based, self serving, egomaniacal (A prerequisite for running for office) right wing or left wing do gooder you want sitting in whatever seat is needed to be filled. I will clarify one aspect of this rant. For you non-religious 'asshole' is translated into faithese as 'sinner'. So, you hate this one and you love this one. This one says this, which I like or this one says that, which I hate. He or she is too short ,too fat, not pretty enough, not young enough, not smart enough, doesn't seem friendly enough, doesn't believe what I believe. (Here's a wake up call. Almost no one believes what you believe. They believe a little bit of what you believe and that validates you.) Just for the record one of the nicest do-gooder folks on the planet was Jimmy Carter and he did not do the job  well- he is still doing good- and we are still here. I have have suggested in a politically incorrect way, that I am sure has offended just about every reader I have. Don't be. I am an asshole/sinner and I am a do-gooder . Whatever small thing I can do to make this life a little better I will do but I do it with as clear and truthful eye as I am able. I have read that the worst fear any person has is the fear of being conned- folks there is a lot of conning going on. It's all  three card Monty- guess where the king is!.

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THE QUESTION I'm awake at night and it's an odd place, the night. Most of you are asleep and I am left with talkative Angels who ask only one kind of question. "Why do you all do this or that?" I'm not smart enough to deliver a cognizant answer -so I sit in silence for awhile. " Why do you ask? I eventually ask, if sleep won't come. " Because you are up and quiet in a silent world and you hear our voices." They say. I thought, "How often do we find ourselves in that certain seat where we are asked as if we knew the answer?" I answered the Angels as I have often done to others in my life, "I have no idea, but I will do my best to find out."   　 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED KEN LEHNIG (C)2008

Archived Writings:

'Secrets erode and destroy and  the truth frees.'

 I don't profess any great understanding of what that statement means, however when I look at the statement I'm compelled to wonder at my life and the things I know and have seen. I guess all of us have some of that in our lives ,whether, in our families or in our work life. Revealing a lie, that has imbedded itself in our lives, is a tough cookie to be rid of. Clearing away the chaff is painful and uncomfortable. When the truth is uncovered we are left with no way to play the role that the lie or secret created. What if our relationships only work in the context of the lie and secrets?  How then would our life look without them? Who would stay in our lives; who would go away?  We lose quite a lot with the truth. It is an uncertain path filled with the fear of what is possible. Fearing what we don't know is the most human of traits. What we lose, in the truth, is our self loathing and the fear that we are weaker than we supposed. It may be a challenge to look at ourselves as fully capable, strong, clear, and flexible. I'm sure some of those qualities escape me. I'm locked too often in creed and prejudice. I'm not even writing about grand -terrible beliefs and intolerances, but little nagging petty ones that tear at me and make me (and others) miserable. I'm played by the media like a wanton violin, agreeing and disagreeing with thoughts that are not even my own. Is that done to turn me away from the matters of my own life? ( Of course!) Should I not be more concerned  with how I play in the greater story? I fear sometimes that the erosion is a natural process and we are made for secrets and lies. We use them to protect us from the inevitable, whatever that is. Storms do come in the natural world and storms come in the internal world of the human psyche. Its the drama of our life that does make life interesting. ( What would I write about, without it?) I'm left with a syrupy thought, but a good one. What if the result of fully disclosed lives is an opening for love, understanding and maybe a miracle or two hundred. I'll leave this with those of you who are smarter than I am.

Ken

Feb.28, 2004

I was thinking tonight the idea of cause and effect. The reason the thought was even between my ears was caused by a guest on Coast to Coast (Radio Show for those blessed with abnormal sleep cycles.) The guest was presenting a reasonable scenario for why oil addiction was going to be our ruin. As I was listening his argument became specious and caused in me a myriad of alternatives to his conclusions. It came to me that cause and effect wasn't a sufficient way of thinking. The truer order as I see it is Reality>cause>event>action>effect>reality2>cause>event>action>effect and so on. In the truest sense reality is managed chaos. 

Rather than blathering on incoherently I offer this little parable. What happens in Reality2 I'll let you ponder.

The Hare and the Hawk                                            ken lehnig

The Hawk circled high in the hot summer air. Rising and falling on upward winds caused by the sheer cliff faces. It's keen eyes sweeping the brown and green carpet below. Searching for that thing to fill and quench that empty fire in its belly. Purpose, unthinking but acutely aware of an ancient need to find hot blood and flesh to fill it's empty center. And there next to that shrub. Wings folded the Hawk cut the heated air and dropped on the hare. It's deadly talons fixed.

Hare: You have fell from the sky like lightening. Unaware was I, asleep in my feeding, asleep to your danger from above. Now here I am…wounded and dying.

Hawk: What is this? You speak? I have to finish you and feed. Please, do not speak.

Hare: Why? Can't you see something different in this that I would speak to you through my pain and fear?

Hawk: That's the point. I strike from the sky bringing pain and fear. There is no room for talk. There is evil in it. Don't you see? This isn't right, no indeed. Not the way the Maker would have it. It's the Hares place to die to feed the Hawk. It is the Hawks place to deliver death. It is the system…it is what works.

Hare: Yes, I see the system too clearly now. Being the victim has a different perspective. As I near death I see clearly. I look up and I see the line of Hares that came before me back to the first Hare. Even beyond to the Makers first idea of Hare, the vision before the word. I see it's purpose and it's lack of hope. And as I turn and give up my fear I look as if I was not the Hare…look as I am free from form. I can see all the Hawks before you. Back even to the first idea of Hawk. The Hawk, with it’s mastery of the air and it's power to take life.

Hawk: You see the truth of things, reason no more and resign yourself to death. It is you who must act out your part of this sacred act.

Hare: Sacred you say? When I said I saw the first idea , that became vision, that became word. I see a mechanism set into play, hardly a law and hardly sacred.

Hawk: You looked upon the face of the Maker and say it isn't the law? Isn't it law, if it comes from the Maker? Speak rabbit or I'll have your life now.

Hare: Yes, I said I saw the vision, but not the face of the Maker. I saw the possibility of Hare and Hawk, and the play that has followed. We opted for the repetition of the first act. It was easier, we carried no responsibility for creation. We made the mechanism sacred, not the Maker. We play out an endless shadow play. But it is a profane one. Each action along an endless line is profane. Only the first act was sacred. In that act there was none before and there will never be a first act again. You and I, Hawk…we unthinkingly perform this act in a succession of acts past to the future. Unless we see that we justify, rationalize and defend these acts. We speak the way we think it to be, unknowing, unthinking, acting out a pointless play.

Hawk: Have you spoken blasphemy at the moment of your death? Soon you will be stupid and dead without a Maker.

Hare: I just said that. When I look up I do not see the face of the Maker only where the Maker was and what was left by It's passing. I have lived my life stupid, as you have said. I have lived it as "hare". I was born into what it was to be a hare. I thought that "Being" Hare was what I had done all my life and even now I die as a hare in the talons of a hawk.

Hawk: Foolish hare, how else could you have lived? Could you live as a Hawk or as a Wolf?

Hare: No indeed for in that is the sameness that I speak. Wishing that I be what I am not? It would seem that we are born to be what we are…or are we a possibility? I have now seen where the Maker has been. Though a Hare, I am more a Hare.

Hawk: How is that?

Hare: Don't you see that I see the mechanism that the Maker has made. Could I live now as the Hare or would I live as the first Hare? For in this moment I live outside the line. I am sacred in my perception, I am the first Hare and the last. In our dance of life and death, beloved hawk, the light has shone. And the Maker's face is upon us.

On the death of the Hare the hawk did what Hawks have always done in an unthinking stance. The Hawk ate the first/last Hare. It was a mundane act and did not fill or satisfy. Then with a beat of powerful wings it lifted into the air it's last thought as it left that sacred spot was:

Hawk: Hares are a pain in the tail feathers. I'll not eat another as long as I live. As a matter of healthful digestion to all Hawks, I will scream a warning on the very air against eating them. These Hares talk too much and as anyone knows that is bad for the digestion, especially if the talk is of a religious nature. I will warn other Hawks. Let Hares speak to Hares, of such matters, and not to Hawks. The Maker has given us enough to do.

KEN

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