I honor the grotesque world that would be D.T. TrumpenCruz, President of the U.S. of A. I don’t seek it, but I honor it. I do so for the same reason I honor every other way that we, souls awakening, are abusing ourselves, one another, and our planetary home. The blood of unkindness colors the road to a healthy life. What spills that blood is ignorance, the mother of all suffering––and a sacred teacher.
If life’s purpose is to grow our capacity to love (as I feel it is), and every moment, every situation, serves that purpose (as I feel it does), then the specter of D.T. TrumpenCruz is a ripe reminder that our tenacity to make loving choices usually takes hold only after the consequences of unlove become excruciating. Who would bet the farm, or even a nickel, we’re at that point today? If D.T. TrumpenCruz were abducted by aliens and never heard from again, what problem would really be solved?
