I'm not quite sure when I first realized I had this trait. The trait of which I speak is honesty, or to put it in a veranacular phtase, "no *******." Bullshitting is a sin against yourself;  it will rot your soul. For as long as I can remember, I have been unabashed, outspoken, unafraid to reveal my true self. For me, it is
exhilirating, reaffirming. For so many others, it is at best annoying, at worst anger-provoking. Most people are afraid to be themselves. Indeed, they go to great lenghts to disquise who they truly are, how they really feel--a kind of psychological make-up to conceal their real selves. Doing that puts them into their own prison. Bars have a dual function:  it keeps a person locked in, un-
consciously self-protected and "safe." And it keeps all others locked out, thereby ensuring no threat of scrutiny by others. But this duality keeps
the person who will go at great lenghts to create and maintain this illusory safety frozen forever. To be open, to be forthcoming, to be always my real
self, is for me liberating. It matters not to me what anyone thinks about what I say or do or am. What does matter, and will always matter most to me, is what
I think of myself. For if first i cannot be true to myself, I then cannot be true to the infinite Cosmos and everything in it. I am willing to die than become an apostate. I would rather be dead than be a liar. Before the firing squad pulls its triggers, the head might say to me "Stand a little to the left." And I would oblige him.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

STANDING ALONE

Standing alone is the only way
to gain a gathering. That’s the
paradox no one seems to under-
stand. If one wishes to be true to
all others, one must first be able
to stand alone. All great leaders
know this instinctively. One must
embrace one’s truth, then those
who are keen enough will sense
it ineluctably, and the many will
become one. Earth urgently needs
one to come forward with truth
so that billions of others can join
and all can become one. The courage
one needs is first to be able to stand
alone, not an easy thing to do, but
necessary. Be brave, be intransigent,
be yourself.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Life is like ocean waves lapping on the beach. Humanity is the ocean, waves are you and I. This is the flow and ebb of life. We are born and then we die. Often there are storms in the interim, hurricanes, even a tsunami. Each wave brings upon the shores seaweeds of sorrow, starfish of hope. Castles of dreams we build. Some we realize, others are washed away. The blue sky may turn dark at times, but always does the yellow sun exist, even if at times we cannot see it. At night, the moon casts its spell upon glistening waves making their inexorable way to shores around the world. Soon night will become day as new waves roll in.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Statues are not the problem. The problem is that we make statues
out of living people. We glorify then. We deify them. We worship
them. That they may inspire us is not the problem;  that we let them
turn us into little statues of themselves is perverse. If these living
people were truly worthy of adoration, or more, the would tell us
to look inside ourselves and find our own sacredness that we share
with all other creations in the Cosmos. "Join hands," the living
statues would tell us. "Love yourselves and thereby love all others."
All of us are divine. None of us warrant being cast into uncaring
bronze if ever we had turned a human being into a slave or murdered
millions in a genocidal wave westward. Embrace your innate di-
vinity and let your life be a monument to love.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Buddha was not the only one who understood the relationship between suffering and nirvana. Jorge Luis Borges once said the most important task of a human being's life was to learn how to transmute pain into compassion. Perhaps every human being, even if unconsciously, spends her/his life doing what Buddha did with his. As everyone knows, it is not an easy journey, but it is vital humanity takes it successfully. For millennia, however, humanity has, for the vast majority of time, failed to make spiritual progress. For example, for the past 3,400 years of recored history, most scholars have found that only 200 of those years could be deemed peaceful;  the rest were fraught with wars after wars after wars. Buddha, Borges, and most of the rest of us wish there were continual Peace on Earth, but sadly we see that sanguine phrase only a couple of weeks a year on Christmas cards.  

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Sunshine is mine. It covers me
in warmth, soothes my spirits, wakes
me up. It signals a new day, a
bright, new day full of promise,
full of hope. I shall elope with my
good fortunes:  no Sisyphean tasks,
no Stygian gloom. Sunshine pours
on me the propitious;  this day will
be full of love and happiness. I
shall sing with the birds. I shall lie in
thick, green grass. I shall dance
with flowers, red and gold. I shall
bathe in a shower of sunshine. Bless
the heavens for this miraculous gift.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Sweet dreams, my dear Patsy,
why'd you have to die? I cried
when you sang CRAZY 'cause
that's the way I am. I would have
been a singer, but cannot sing
a note; the ring of your sweet
voice made me feel so warm.
The way they swarmed you after
every song you sang made my
heart swell and swell. I longed to be
with them, but understand, you see,
I live in North Dakota, not in Tennessee.
Heaven is your home now. I hope
I'll meet you there. But 'til I die,
I'll keep on playing records,
only ones you always sang.
So sweet dreams, my dear Patsy,
so gentle and so kind. I'll hear
you singing in everyone in
everyone of mine.

TOD HOWAD HAWKS

If we could gather all the kisses we ever kissed, if we could conjure up the memories once shared, if we could answer all the questions we have now forgotten, then sitting on this sofa we could feel our distant lives.

If we had photogtaphs of happiness never taken, if we could play recordings of moans and murmurs we did not tape, if we could laugh again and cry our cries of long ago, we could live again our years of tears and joy as we hold each other on this sofa evermore.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Tell me truly who you are,
not from afar, but to my ear.
Do not fear:  I shall not castigate,
excoriate. Dissemble not: No
equivocation, prevarication.
Tell me truly what's in your heart.
Is terror there, or guilt? Rage ablaze
from needs unmet? Do unhealed hurts
leave you reeling in a maelstrom of
doubt? Open up your heart
and let your agonies fly out.
In gentle ways let us discuss dark
places and shame, give name to
those moments when mistreated,
wanton cruelty misconstrued
with worth of self. Let light
penetrate hate, mollify madness,
assuage pain. Let your forthcoming,
my love for your realness,
heal us both.

Slights amighty, awful, dreadful deeds, winter
blizzards in the heart, that's what life's about.

Slaves of old, slaves of new, all of them knew
of endless toil then death, that's what life's about.

Billions poor, few are billionaires, children
starving round the world, that's what life's about.

Torture, ******, killings all, wars that never cease,
air and oceans now foul and fetid, that what life's about.

Crusades and inquisitions, all in name of God,
hangings, crucifixions, that's what life's about.

Money, megalomania, titles, medals, prizes,
self-indulgence plenty, that's what life's about.

Did someone mention love and loving, or was
I hearing things? Those should be what life's about.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

How many of you belong to the AMERICAN FASCIST PARTY (formerly the Republican Party)?

**** Trump is the first (Lincoln was a Republican) to be elected president of the United States of America. During **** Trump's tenure, there were 1,716 mass shootings in America and close to 2,000 human beings killed.

The AR-15, a weapon of war. Heard of it? Have one? It's legal. Buy as many as you like. If you tried to shoot a pheasant with one and you hit it, you'd have only feathers.

It does the same to a child's body. A grieving mother in Uvalde, Texas had to identify her dead son by a sock he had worn to school.  The AR-15 had torn up the body so badly, the mother could not recognize her dead child.

The 2nd Amendment guaranteed a citizen's right to own a MUSKET, not a de facto machine gun. The right to own as many AR-15s as you wish, even one, is insanity, pure and simple.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

THE AMERICAN FASCIST PARTY

There are two, maybe three, members
of the American Fascist Party (formerly
the Republican Party) who still believe
in democracy, who are not racists, who
believe that all Citizens of the United States
of America still have the sacred right to vote,
who still have compassion for those who
sadly gaze at the Statue of Liberty while
searching through heaps of garbage hoping
to find enough to eat to live another day,
who huddle on frozen concrete in groups
of five or six to survive Febrary's -15 degree
nights. Those I've described are called human
beings. Those I haven't are called hateful bigots,
Neo-Nazis, crazed members of the American
Fascist Party.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

The angry bangs upon my door in the middle of the night are but cries for help. I am sorry for their hurt.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Hell is not below us when our bodies die.
Hell is on Earth, in our lives. Only our bodies die;  
our spirits are infinite. So why does our spirit
join another body and return to Earth? To learn
that Hell is an illusion of the finite, that Hell can
become a Hello to Heaven on Earth through Love.
All creations of the Cosmos must first be nurtured
by Love to effloresce their own innate Love. That
full Love is the antidote for Hell on Earth. We must
be Loved so that our full Love can be shared
with those who hurt and hate, thus transforming
Hell into a Hello to Heaven on Earth, changing
hopelessness into hopefulness. But we can give only
what we have received. So if we fail to be Loved
at conception, through our earliest of years, and
then through the rest of our lives, at any point
someone who has been fully Loved can intervene
by Loving the one who is in Hell on Earth.
There is no such thing as a surfeit of Love.
As one is nurtured by another's Love, the deprived
one will feel and find the efflorescence of Love,
and what was before Hell on Earth will become a
Hello to Heaven on Earth. Hell will be understood
for what it truly is:  A call for help. And Love
will be known by all creations as the magic
and truth of the Cosmos.

Snow falls. It is cold.  The poet writes
of a century ago, a life so long he
remembers how he had walked through
and played in forests, but cannot recall
his friends's names, though he remembers
exactly the kind of tree they climbed
and where it was and the color of its
bark. The tree was oak, outside Warsaw,
and its bark was dark brown. Almost a
century he had lived. The bark was
dark brown.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

3 November 2020, the evening thereof, could miror the Battle of Actium when Mark Anthony and Cleopatra were defeated on the sea by Octavian, thus ending the Roman Republic and creating the Roman Empire in 31 BC with Augustus becoming its first Emperor. Criminal Trump would never have this premonition, but I do. That's what he wants badly, isn't it, to become America's first Emperor? He has already been as cruel as Caligula, and if through cheating and other forms of illicit help, Criminal Trump "wins" another four year, we Americans will become his serfs. Would we not want to remain citizens instead of becoming serfs? To restore our democracy, we must fight and win our battle on the land of the free, if that is what we wish still to be. Lies lie at the feet of would-be Emperor Trump. Let us defeat him with truth and intransigence at the polls.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

THE BEGINNING AND THE END

How do we know the beginning
from the end?  How do we de-
marcate one from the other? Are
they not, in fact, a continuum?
Is it possible there is no beginning
and there is no end? Is it not true
that the end is often also the begin-
ning? Is not the differentiation we
make between the two often arbitrary,
capricious? When do we begin and
and when do we end? What is the
most propitious moment and mark
to do one or the other, or both? Is
it better to ascertain what we deem
to be the middle ground and hold
that position, or are all points illusory?
How do we ever know for sure
where the beginning begins and
the end ends? Maybe it is simply
better, in the beginning and in the
end, just to be.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

We sense it because it comes inexorably,
this is the beginning  of good-bye.
Her eyes avert his, a touch with no
feeling, a caress more cautious than
caring, a kiss when lips do not meet,
this the beginning of good-bye.
A perfunctory placement of the hand,
a conversation moribund, sipping
scotch and sodas in silence, a call that
never comes, memories that have grown opaque,
this is the beginning of good-bye.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

The best friend you can ever have is yourself, but allowing yourself to become the best friend you will ever have is the most difficult, as well as the most important, task you will ever undertake. It will be hard to do, but it is worth trying. Most people unconsciously wish to avoid for a lifetime--meeting, let alone becoming best friends with--their real selves. It is simply unconsciously too daunting to try, not to mention so unimaginably hard to accomplish. The Zeitgeist of the world is no friend to you if you consciously make an attempt, for the world has been turned inside-side out for millennia, fighting wars on top of more wars, on top of even more wars, killing millions and millions and millions of those who otherwise most probably would have become your friends, polluting increasingly the air we breathe and the water we drink all along the way.  But you, as is everyone else, a microcosm of the world. Your troubles and worries are also the world's. If ever you wish to make friends with yourself, if ever the world finally wishes to realize Peace on Earth as you make peace within yourself, both of you will need the most compassionate, insightful, intuitive help possible. At this moment, the world is going in the absolutely diametrically wrong direction, which all of you already know too well. But you, one of almost 8 billion human beings presently on Earth, can, if you have the courage, begin to turn yourself right-side in. You and the world both need to become your own best friend.

Tod Howard Hawks

I am taking a wide interpretation of what is poetry here, but after all, what singers sing is poetry. I am 76, so I have listened to a vast number of singers, individually and in groups. But like you, I am particular. So here it goes:  SIMON AND GARFUNKEL, JOHNNY MATHIS, BING CROSBY, ANNE MURRAY, THE PLATTERS, WILLIE NELSON, LOUIS ARMSTRONG, TONY BENNETT, JOHNNY CASH, PATSY CLINE, B.B. KING, BRENDA LEE, ROY ORBISON, ARETHA FRANKLIN, BEE GEES, THE CARPENTERS, CAT STEVENS, JANIS IAN, THE MAMAS & THE PAPAS, ROBERTA FLACK, ELTON JOHN, BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN; CROSBY, STILLS, NASH & YOUNG; DON MCLEAN,  FLEETWOOD MAC, JAMES TAYLOR, k. d. lang, COLDPLAY, and ALICIA KEYS.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Do not speak to me of numbers,
though they seem many,
there is only one.
Do not speak to me of glories,
though they seem many,
there is only truth.
Do not speak to me of galaxies,
though they seem many,
there is only infinity.
And do not speak to me of religions,
though they seem many,
there is only love.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS.

We begin our journey helpless. We cry. We crawl. We slowly begin to walk and talk. Then we play and try to say to others what we see, what we feel. We spend too many years placating others, our parents, our teachers, our significant others. We then choose a job, perhaps a profession. Was it what we wanted or what we thought others wanted for us? Often, we get married, but for how long? And children? Are we wise enough to have them? The years, the decades, go by. Our life's path is tortuous. So many decisions to be made. Did we make the right ones? In most cases, we have done our best. A short while ago, we were young. Now we are old. Were we true to ourselves and to others, or did we sell out to be accepted? Before we can ascertain the answer, we die, but we do go to our funeral, albeit in a casket or as ashes in an urn.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Nannie and I would grab our empty “TV”  milk
cartons and run to the bus stop up the hill.
Soon the bus would get there and we would
get on. We would sit up front. Not many were
on the bus Saturday morning. We were on
our way downtown to see a Tom Mix movie.
If you had an empty “TV” milk carton, you
could get in free. Often, but not always, we
had the same bus driver. He was an old man
who, for some reason, knew that Nannie and
I were the children of Rae Antoinette Tod, the
granddaughter of W. J. Tod, the rich and fa-
mous founder of the Tod Ranch, the famous
cattle ranch just outside Maple Hill, Kansas,
about 18 miles west of Topeka where Nannie
and I grew up. Maple Hill essentially was where
the lush, rolling Flint Hills began, some, if not
the best, cattle-raising country in the world.
Nannie and I would chat with this old bus
driver as we made our way downtown. This
old man would tell us of the days when he
had worked as a young cattle hand on the
Tod Ranch. He would always talk about W. J.,
our great-grandfather. He would always tell
us what a great, kind man he was to everybody
who worked for him on his ranch. But never
once did the old bus driver mention how rich
and famous W. J. had been. He never men-
tioned that W. J. had become president of
The National Livestock Association, for ex-
ample. The old bus driver talked only about
how W. J. treated all who worked on the Tod
Ranch, even the cowhands, who the old bus
driver was once one of, with respect. I have
never forgotten what the old bus driver repeatedly
had told us about our great-grandfather, and
even as a boy, I realized then that I wanted
to be like my great-grandfather had been,
not rich and famous, but much, much more
importantly, kind and respectful to all.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

THE BUS TO SATURDAY MORNINGS

Nannie and I would grab our empty “TV”  milk
cartons and run to the bus stop up the hill.
Soon the bus would get there and we would
get on. We would sit up front. Not many were
on the bus Saturday morning. We were on
our way downtown to see a Tom Mix movie.
If you had an empty “TV” milk carton, you
could get in free. Often, but not always, we
had the same bus driver. He was an old man
who, for some reason, knew that Nannie and
I were the children of Rae Antoinette Tod, the
granddaughter of W. J. Tod, the rich and fa-
mous founder of the Tod Ranch, the famous
cattle ranch just outside Maple Hill, Kansas,
about 18 miles west of Topeka where Nannie
and I grew up. Maple Hill essentially was where
the lush, rolling Flint Hills began, some, if not
the best, cattle-raising country in the world.
Nannie and I would chat with this old bus
driver as we made our way downtown. This
old man would tell us of the days when he
had worked as a young cattle hand on the
Tod Ranch. He would always talk about W. J.,
our great-grandfather. He would always tell
us what a great, kind man he was to everybody
who worked for him on his ranch. But never
once did the old bus driver mention how rich
and famous W. J. had been. He never men-
tioned that W. J. had become president of
The National Livestock Association, for ex-
ample. The old bus driver talked only about
how W. J. treated all who worked on the Tod
Ranch, even the cowhands, who the old bus
driver was once one of. I have never forgot-
ten what the old bus driver repeatedly had
told us about our great-grandfather, and
even as a boy, I realized then that I wanted
to be like my great-grandfather had been,
not rich and famous, but much, much more
importantly, kind and respectful to all.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Tell me why, oh butterfly,
do you fly so high?
Tell me why, oh butterfly,
high up in blue sky.

Tell me, pretty butterfly,
with your wings of gold,
are you as kind and gentle
as I'm always told?

Tell me, golden butterfly,
will you come to me
and light upon my shoulder
to keep me company?

And when night falls, my butterfly,
please let your golden wings
illuminate the darkness
until the bluebird sings.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

You weren't sure when you knew it. You weren't sure where it came from. But sooner than later it enveloped you. It was your calling. No words, nothing written. Just a sense, a feeling that permeated your being. And finally you knew. No ambiguities, no uncertainties, no ambivalences. Just truth. It was intuition. No manuals, no table of contents. No advanced degrees required. It was your life, the rest of your life. It was the reason you were born. It was the reason you were on Earth. It was your destiny. There is nothing more to say except to follow it, your calling.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

The United States of America has never been a democracy. Our Constitution, drafted and ratified in 1787, legalized slavery in all 13 nascent States. Eight of our presidents were slaveholders, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who owned more the 600 slaves. Though the 13th Amendment legally abolished slavery in 1865, the KKK , founded also in 1865, began to flourish in the Deep South when U. S. troops were recalled in 1877. White Supremacists used a vicious range of deterrents to keep Blacks from voting:  Deep South State constitutions and laws;  poll taxes;  literacy tests;  the "grandfather clause";  and outright intimidation, including lynchings that occurred at their peak from 1890 to 1920. Today, Trump supporters have swept through almost all State legislatures "legalizing" myriad ways to keep minorities from voting, as well as other ways to invalidate their votes. In addition to brutalizing Blacks throughout our nation's history, we must not forget the genocide perpetrated by our government against indigenous peoples who had populated the continent for millennia, culminating between 1860 and 1890 with the coup de grace of Wounded Knee. "Manifest Destiny" was not democracy. It was manifest inhumanity.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

There is a difference between personhood and behavior. Everyone's personhood is divine, inviolate, whereas so many people's behavior is often uncaring or hurtful or even much worse. It is not unusual to react to one's untoward behavior with at least displeasure if not outright hate, even ******. But this latter response is unknowing. When one encounters bad behaviour to any degree and wishes it were not so, do not exacerbate what is already deleterious by making it even worse through punishment. Instead, constrain this negativity, but love this forsaken person. Love is the cure for all who suffer pain. It may take a lot of love to heal a hurting soul, even a lifetime, perhaps even longer. But love is the antidode for all emotional maladies. But for one to be able to love others, one must first be loved, preferably by one's parents, but if not by them, then by someone else who was loved and thus has love to give those who desperately need it. This dilemma is what our world most suffers from. Wealth, fame, power--all are illusory and therefore feckless. They are but unconscious efforts to compensate for lack of love, and that is why our world has been turned inside-out for millennia. Only being loved, and then being able to love, will we be able to turn our world right-side in. Then and only then will we have Peace on Earth forever, and for the first time.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

There is a difference between personhood and behavior that the vast majority of humanity still does not realize.

Personhood is sacred, inviolate. Every human being who has ever been, is, and will ever be, is sacred at her/his core.

Behavior, on the other hand, which is too often hurtful, if not much worse, is the consequence of the pernicious lack of both awareness of her/his sacredness, and concomitantly, her/his failure to assimilate it into their being.

Only love can nurture the realization of personhood. And because so many human beings are never loved enough, if at all, they are left only with their behavior that, all too often, manifests itself in myriad nefarious ways:  slavery, bigotry, racism, torture, killing, war, and, in its own way, the worst:  global inequality, which should be called iniquity.

To achieve Peace on Earth forever, all must come first to the realization of the difference between personhood and behavior, then find ways to ensure all human beings are loved and loved and loved.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I sat across from my friend, Bruce, in 4th grade.
When Ms. Perrin raised the card that had on it
7 x 6, Bruce and I raised our hands at the same
time. But when we began reading the same book,
Bruce turned to the second page before I was half-
way down the first. That was the first time I became
conscious that something was wrong, but I didn't
know what. Every year I went for my eye exam,
and every year the doctor said to me, "Tell me
when the dot and the line meet." And ever
year I told him "The dot and the line are not
meeting." And every year, the doctor said nothing
back to me. I was basically a straight-A student
through school, but when my dad had me
apply to Andover, I had to take the PSAT.
I remember that every time I got to the read-
ing section, I could finish only about a third
of the questions. Even though I continued
to get straight-As, even though i was elected
president of my class of over 800, I got re-
jected twice in a row from Andover, because
of my unbelievably low scores on the reading
section of the PSAT. Each summer after being
rejected, my dad sent me to Andover for sum-
mer school that was academically as rigorous
as the regular school year. I realized during
those summers that It took me twice as long
to read a page, let alone a book, as it took my
classmates. But that's what i did:  I read twice
as long as my classmates because i had to, and
I did well academically because of my tenacity.
At the end of the second summer school, my
dad and I visited the Director of Admissions.
The first thing he said to me as we entered his
office was "Tod, you've already been admitted
to the Class of 1962. You don't even have to
apply." I was stunned. My dad was overjoyed.
I did well at Andover during the regular school
years. I chose to matriculate to Columbia be-
cause of its Core Curriculum and its being in
New York City. I excelled there, but I contin-
ued to have to read twice as long as my class-
mates. Nine years after I graduated from Co-
lumbia (I was 27 then), I sat in a booth at a
restaurant in Topeka across from Michelle,
a psychologist at the Menninger Foundation,
who was sharing with me details about the
workshop she had attended the prior weekend
in Tulsa. Michelle had been fascinated with
what she had learned at the workshop from
a renown ophthalmologist whose specialty
was monocular vision, The more Michelle
shared with me, the more I felt she was descri-
bing the condition I had battled from 4th grade
through college, so at an appropriate point,
I interrupted her and told my story. She sat
there transfixed as she listened to my long
and painful ordeal. When I had finished,
Michelle sat there in silence for more than
a few moments, then said to me, "Tod, you
need to call the doctor, make an appointment,
then drive down to Tulsa and have him exam-
ine you." And that's what I did. The doctor
examined me for three hours, putting me
through all sorts of tests. I remember to this
day verbatim the last thing he said to me:
"Tod, I'm surprised you can even read a
book, let alone get through college." Well,
I did get through Columbia,  let alone Andover
as well. But as I tried to assimilate what I had
just found out, I thought that eye doctor in Topeka
who ever year I told "The dot and the line are not
meeting." Why had he not not said to me:
"Tod, you have a problem." Why had he not
done his job? I had long forgotten his name,
but I shall never forget his gross negligence.
And to be honest, though I had managed to
endure the pain and stress of all those years,
I am so proud of what I overcame and ac-
complished.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Our world is inside-out. Our world is as healthy as its sickest citizen, as educated as its most ignorant, as prosperous as its poorest. Who will light the first match that starts the fire of worldwide change from inside-out to right-side in? Perhaps it will be you. Perhaps it will be I. Once the match is lit, in seconds it can become a firestorm of unimaginable change for the better. Most still want wars, not peace. Most want control, not sharing. Most want it all, but what they want is all worthless to the value of a human life. Our world does not wish to be owned, but to be cared for.  Our air will tell you this. Our water the same. The inequities of the world, its iniquities, scream at us that these injustices will **** our world and every living creation upon it. But we remain delusional, blind and deaf and uncaring to these ongoing and immoral behaviors. Only the fire of rectitude will burn away these destructive ways. Perhaps soon one will strike one match.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

The Gold Rushes, then and now, rush past true treasures:  that what is yours is mine is all. We need not mine, but only share.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Criminal Trump has done what no other U.S. president has ever done. He has created a gulag in the United States of America. It is a metaphorical, and evil, gulug:  an archipelago of lies, cheats, racism, misogyny, illegalities, and rampant corruption, among many other offences. His Oval Office has become a black box, spiritually so dark that truth cannot enter. His friends, his associates, his heads of the most important governmental departments are, or have been, in prison. His Republican cohorts, most notoriously in the Senate, have been craven for four years. McConnell has shamed himself innumerable times in the political arena. Starr is no star at all, but a moral Black Hole. Stalin got away with his gulag in tact. Trump will try to cheat his way to four more years and not only keep, but also enlarge, his.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

I see ibicies on alpine slopes,
large curved horns coming almost
full circle. I descry mountain
hawks on the wing that descry
more than I. Bears I do not
see, for they are lost in their
own sleep, not on slopes, but
in slumber;  the number of deer
is in actuality many, but I
have not earned the right to
discern more than few.
Vision is a funny thing:  we
tend to infer from the many
we can see reality, but this
is illusory. Our sight we feel
can be enhanced by glasses
microscopic or telescopic,
but sight is not insight;  seeing
is not knowing. The intellect
sees that all are different,
wisdom that all are one. The
ibex knows the mountain is
deeper than it is high.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

I see ibicies on alpine slopes,
large curved horns coming almost
full circle. I descry mountain
hawks on the wing that descry
more than I. Bears I do not
see, for they are lost in their
own sleep, not on slopes, but
in slumber;  the number of deer
is in actuality many, but I
have not earned the right to
discern more than few.
Vision is a funny thing:  we
tend to infer from the many
we can see reality, but this
is illusory. Our sight we feel
can be enhanced by glasses
microscopic or telescopic,
but sight is not insight;  seeing
is not knowing. The intellect
sees that all are different,
wisdom that all are one. The
ibex knows the mountain is
deeper than it is high.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

The Internet is now our new party line. Soon, all 7.5 billion of us can join in this global conversation. And this is how it should be, a new world technological democracy. We shall have smartphones enough. We shall have multiple technological ways of of hooking up each to all others. We shall realize, truly, that we are one community, that we are all one, all members of one big and growing family of humankind. Realizing our oneness, we will defeat all efforts of any sort--ethnic, economic, political, and all others--to divide us, to separate us. We all shall be Citizens of Earth. Dictators, tyrannts, despots will no longer exist, because we all are one. Citizens of Earth will govern Earth. And at last, there will be Peace on Earth, forever.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Life, as we all know, is not easy.
Every day we we must make countless
decisions. Our goal is to make the
right decision in order to live our life
to its fullest potential. But how do we
know that each decision we make is
the best decision for us? We often seek
wise counsel from parents, teachers,
ministers, and others whom we admire
and respect. We are sometimes influenced
by our peers as we grow up. Ultimately,
though it is important to listen to others,
after we assimilate and synthesize all these
variegated ideas and suggestions, our best
bet is to turn inward and ask ourselves what
we feel is best for ourselves. Some call this
intuition. Others may call it following your
heart. I call it being true to yourself, or, to wax
poetic:  The Majority of One. None of us is
infallible, but notwithstanding, every nano-
second of our existence is a moment of our
life, and no one else's. So my recommendation
is to be intuitive, follow your heart, remain true
to yourself, and always be The Majority
of One.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

I was in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, doing human-rights work. I made several Malawi friends. We decided we would go out in the countryside to camp. The African terrain was beautiful. We pitched a large tent and enjoyed chatting after roasting chicken over the campfire. We spoke Chichewa, the main indigenous language in Malawi. Before sunset, I saw, at a distance, an animal slowly approaching us. It was long and slender, about a-foot-and-a-half in length. It was a mongoose. When I stood up, the mongoose stopped coming toward us. We stood there looking at each other. After several minutes, I began to walk in measured steps toward it carrying with me some crispy cooked chicken skin. The mongoose didn't move. In due course, I got within 10 feet of the mongoose and sat down in the tall grass. The mongoose still hadn't moved, which surprised me. I tossed a piece of chicken skin at it. It landed within a couple of feet of it, but still the mongoose didn't move, only lying in the tall grass looking at (and smelling, no doubt) me. The sun continued to set. Finally, the mongoose moved toward the piece of chicken, smelled it, then picked it up and ate it, then lay down again in the grass. After a few more minutes, I tossed another piece toward the mongoose, again landing about two feet from it. And again, after a few minutes, it moved toward the chicken and repeated this ritual. I continued to do the same thing until the mongoose was within, I'd say, about four feet from me. The sun had set, but the two of us sat close to each other in the tall grass for about another half-hour, neither of us moving. I felt we were, each of us in or own way, getting to know each other. This was most surprising and satifying to me. Finally, I slowly arose and began making my way back to what was left of the campfire. When I turned around, I saw the mongoose then get up and amble into the darkness. I had made another friend in Malawi.

I have always dated beautiful, and bright, women. I never married,
probably because of the trauma of growing up with a father and
mother who were so desperarately unhappy, but never divorced.
When I was a freshman at Columbia, I dated a Barnard freshman
named Stephani Cook. When Stephani was a senior, she entered a
nationwide contest sponsored by Glamour Magazine for the best
dressed coed in America. In effect, it was a contest for the most
beautiful coed in America. Stephani won, a win that launched her
on a  multi-year career with the most prominent modeling agency
in the world, the Ford Agency in New York City. Thus, she graced
the covers of the most famous women's magazines such as Seventeen
and others. In the early 1980s, she authored the book "Second Life,"
which was an incredibly well crafted account of her years growing
up and her excruciatingly painful early years of adulthood. And
though I dated beautiful and bright women throughout my life,
really one of the happiest facets of my life, the most beautiful
woman I ever encountered I saw in the film "Casablanca" made
in the early 1940s starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman.
Ingrid Bergman, simply put, is the most mesmerizing, transcendently
beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I really cannot put into
words why she is, by far, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
When she came to Hollywood in the late 1930s, the studio moguls
said she needed to change her name, that she was too tall, and
that her nose was too big. Ingrid's riposte, an important part of her
exquisite beauty, I believe, was she was not going to change her
name, that her height did not bother her, and that she would not
undergo any plastic surgery. In "Casablanca," Ingrid first appears
as she enters Rick's Cafe Americain with her husband. I click at
that moment to freeze that frame so I can gaze, for as long as I
wish, at Ingrid's face (she never wore make-up), even from a
distance. It is iridescent, and every time I do this, I am transfixed
for minutes. That scene, that one scene, is the most extraordinary
moment of all the scenes of all the great movies I have ever watched.
I wish Ingrid were still alive so I could tell her what I've just shared
with you.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

every time I do this,    
her h

I was very young, about 5, nearly 6. My dad was an attorney and
also a business man. One of the businesses he owned was a moving
and storage business located in what I was to learn when I got older
the very poor part of town, the Hispanic part of town. I used to go
with my dad from time to town to his moving and storage business
that was called Merchants Moving and Storage. All this occurred in
the late 1940s. While dad was conducting business in his company's
small office, I would wander outside across a dirt alley adjacent to
the moving company. There were rocks in the dirt alley that I would
pick up and throw into the air. One day as I was doing this, a kid
showed up at the end of the alley. His name, I found out, was Jesus,
a nice kid, but he didn't speak English. He spoke, as I later learned
in life, Spanish, and lived in what I later learned in life, was a shack.
That Jesus and I couldn't talk to each other did not deter our
burgeoning friendship. We both could throw rocks and pal around.
I liked Jesus a lot. He was a nice kid. One afternoon Jesus motioned
to me to come into his house, which I did. The floor of his house
was dirt, just like the alley. I, of course, had never been in any house
that had a dirt floor. Seeing dirt on the floor instead of a rug was
different, but really didn't bother me at all then. But as I grew up,
as I got a lot older, that's when it began to bother me. A dirt floor
in any house--even in a shack--was poverty at its worst. I slowly,
but inexorably, was becoming what I would be throughout my life:
a human-rights advocate. Sadly, I slowly lost touch with Jesus,
but I never forgot him. And I never forgot the dirt floor in the only
home he ever knew as a child. Jesus was not only my friend, but
also my mentor, my moral mentor. I think of him often and wish I
had had a chance to thank him for being my friend, my dear friend
forever. Todo el tiempo. Que le vaya bien, amigo mio.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

**** Trump has embodied, for four years, the worst  behaviors ever endured by our citizens. He is a liar, a cheat, a racist, a misogynist, and a criminal. He is, in short, the most despicable human being I have ever encountered during my lifetime. The worst thing he has ever done--this is a tough choice--was his ordering the Border Patrol to rip children, even babies, from the arms of their mothers who had both the U.S. and international legal right to come to any of our borders, literally place one of their feet on U.S. soil and say they were here to seek political asylum (check out the laws). Instead, the traumatized children were put into cages and, in so many instances, never to see their mothers again. On November 3rd, we should be voting on whether **** Trump should be put into a prison cell for 40 years or for three lifetimes.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I will be the next William Blake. In two hundres years, someone
will enter Oliver Wendell Holmes Library of Phillips Academy
and happen upon my self-pulished book of poems. aphorisms, and
essays titled I WRITE WHEN THE RIVER'S DOWN, which four
years ago the Head of School had told the acquisitions librarian
to order from me, because I had sent him a copy of it several months
before. And that person will sit down and start reading my poems,
aphorisms, and essays and say to herself, "This guy is a genius! I
have to show this book to my English professor. She'll love it." And
word will spread until my somewhat belated genius reputation will
have spread worldwide. I, of course, will not be nominated for the
Nobel Prize in Literature, because if you're dead, you're out of luck.
But Faber and Faber of London will nevertheless publish I WRITE
WHEN THE RIVER'S DOWN and several of my poems eventually
will be studied by students at Andover, among other places.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

The only way for Earth to survive is for all Citizens of Earth to realize they are one family, that they must collectively take a quantum leap in the history of mankind and eliminate false notions that they are separate, one from the other, that their national and ethnic pride is ultimately divisive, and if clung to in error, will inevitably end in the destruction of Earth.

If, however, they have an epiphany and thus realize their many diferences are not reasons to wage war, but just the contrary:  They are the very reasons to celebrate, to appreciate those many surface differences that will only enhance their quality of life, and, most importantly, will avoid their deaths and the destruction of their home, Earth.

TOO HOWARD HAWKS

The origin of prejudice has nothing to do with the other. It is about the unconscious self-hate of the bigot. If ever we wish to eradicate racism, we must come to that realization;  moreover, we must have the fortitude, the courage, to put our contempt for the racist's pernicious attitudes aside and love that racist to the point when the racist begins, for the first time, to feel loved to be able to love, not hate--a virulent form of prejudice--anyone else. This arguably is one of the most difficult tasks of even an enlightened individual, but is essential if ever we wish to have Peace on Earth forever, rather than total self-destruction.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I am at the other end of life. It happens to
coincide with the coronavirus pandemic,
not an especially friendly companion. I am
isolated from my friends, from grocery
store isles, from the simple pleasures of
strolling in the park and chatting with passer-
bys. It is no fun existing like this. Telephone
calls are not hugs. Emails are not conversations.
Life is moribund. I will die sooner than later,
but before I do, I was hoping to reminisce
with dear friends, go out to eat, have a few
drinks. This is like living on the moon. I
have watched and re-watched all my favorite
movies. I wish I could join Bogart and
Bergman in Rick's Cafe Americain. So what
would it matter if I lost at the roulette wheel.
Sam would play "As Time Goes By." There
would be others with whom I could mingle.
I would not be alone. Perhaps I would have
shot the Gestapo chief. Something, anything,
but boredom bordering on depresssion. If
only I could commiserate with the billions
of other human beings who have not yet
lost their lives to this invidious disease. I
will die soon, more likely from isolation
than from illness.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Too many of us prize the place over the person.

When I dream, I dream of hobos--6 to 8 of them--huddled around a make-shift fire next to the railroad tracks eating warmed cans of pork and beans. We chat, tell stories and jokes, and sometimes break into laughter.  Maybe Woody Guthrie is among us.

Other times, I dream of the **** death camps, not an easy, not an enjoyable, thing to do. But that did happen, and not by economic circumstance. And even if fleetingly, they were together. I think that's what draws me to them.

Sometimes I dream of the Lakota Ogala Sioux before Wounded Knee put an end to them and their way of life. I see Crazy Horse, one of my few heroes, always self-effacing, and as true as the arrow he just shot as he was to his word.

And when Martin Lither King, Jr was murdered on a balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee by a single rifle bullet to his head, 4 April 1968, I dream of standing over him with others, crying.

The ugliest place I've ever seen is Versailles. Opulence on top of opulence on top of even more opulemce. Made me want to throw up.

Often, maybe too often, we prize the place over the person.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

THE POEM IS ALWAYS THE PRIZE

Beware of winning prizes, because
prizes can pull you away from your  
center, the locus of worth. Poetry is
the countervailing force to falsehood.
Poetry is the path to truth and away
from pretension and fabrication. Notice
I did not write perfection, for truth is
never perfect, but it is always honest,
and honesty, not perfection, is what
humanity always needs. Sappho, Whitman,
Dickinson, and Blake--none ever won a
prize, but their poetry will always offer
readers eternal beauty. Poets are more
precious than politicians and profiteers,
because the poem is always the prize.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

The poem is not for a contest. It is for sharing.

The poem is the prize.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I'm thinking of Gandhi.
As far as I know,
he never wrote a poem.
But his life was one
of the greatest poems ever.
His poem's theme
was nonviolence.
I would say its theme
was LOVE, love of self
and of everyone else.
He defied despots
not with guns, but with
the steel of love. He walked
to the sea with thousands.
He never fought with hate,
but by fasting 'til death,
if need be. His net worth
was $1 when he was shot
dead. He was the richest
man on Earth, and one of
the greatest poets ever.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I do not underestimate mysellf. More importantly, I do not underestimate the poor of Earth. They have been enslaved, abused, scorned, starved, left homeless and uneducated to this very day. Yet they persevere. Notwithstanding, they bring new life into this world, their babies, their children. Each is sacred. Their divine worth is inviolate. But those who currently rule the world are impervious to their suffering and are unaware of the great, fatal, inevitable result they will encounter because of their moral blindness. There will be, sooner than later, an uprising of the poor of Earth. There will be no guns, no bombs, no killings, no wars, because this ascendancy is spiritually preordained. And the poor will no longer be poor. They will share equally with all others the good of Earth. And this horror of millennia will come to an end. It is already beginning to happen as I write. Rejoice!

TOD HOWARD HAWKS