CNN: Southern Poverty Law Center Claims 1/2 Of White America Hates Black People, Due To A Black President Voted In 2x By A Lot Of White Voters (does this make sense??)

~What an uplifting post! ;-) Wait a second...the truth is that statistics can be spun to support just about any narrative. A glaring example would be with what recently played out on ACC regarding the so-called 'Holohoax'. A small tribe of Holocaust deniers (weren't you in that group Malcolm?) using this Spiritual site to promote overtly racist ideas, by dragging out incendiary data to effectively whitewash some of Humanities darkest chapters. & for what? From my perspective, it's more than clear (whether the authors of these 'discussions' choose to acknowledge it consciously): To amplify 'fear & division'... & so it is with this current low-grade CNN post. What purpose does it serve? When viewed through a wider lens, the more interesting question becomes: What is the real intent behind Malcolm posting it in the first place?... To stir the pot? To suggest that 'white' Americans have the same experience with racism as 'black' Americans (like he's suggested throughout this thread)? For what it's worth Malcolm... using Obamas election as a way to simplify our countries deep racial issues (many of then institutionalized) is a tired argument... with only 60% or so of Americans even bothering to vote, it's not rocket science to see how the 'Southern Poverty Law Center' found a way to support their troubling thesis... but I digress. It goes without saying that the lower energies that promote racism are rampant throughout our world. The seemingly unending need for Human-beings to 'other' their fellows has kept us shackled to duality for far too long. Nonetheless, there are huge strides being made by those willing to raise the conversation & their actions to higher levels. When all is said & done, the vibration of this transparent CNN interview (& countless others like it) is old paradigm. It simply no longer serves the profound clarion call for us to reconnect with who we truly are, & will be rightsized by our inevitable return to Unity-Consciousness. Thankfully, the youth simply can't be bothered with this kind of thing... it is the older generations that continue to wrestle with it. We will not evolve Spiritually by attempting to rewrite our troubled history in an effort to make the shadows of the present more palatable... yet at the same time, knowing when to let go of the narratives that perpetuate division is a matter of choice. Such is the nature of the Earth-School... of the Gaian Matrix. ~TemetNosce247

Alice Walker Reflects on Working Toward Peace

My activism-cultural, political, spiritual-is rooted in my love of nature and my delight in human beings. It is when people are at peace, content, full, that they are most likely to meet my expectations, selfish, no doubt, that they be a generous, joyous, even entertaining experience for me. I believe people exist to be enjoyed, much as a restful or engaging view might be. As the ocean or drifting clouds might be. Or as if they were the human equivalent of melons, mangoes, or any other kind of attractive, seductive fruit. When I am in the presence of other human beings I want to revel in their creative and intellectual fullness, their uninhibited social warmth. I want their precious human radiance to wrap me in light. I do not want fear of war or starvation or bodily mutilation to steal both my pleasure in them and their own birthright. Everything I would like other people to be for me, I want to be for them.

I have been an activist all my adult life, though I have sometimes felt embarrassed to call myself one. In the sixties, many of us were plagued by the notion that, given the magnitude of the task before us-the dismantling of American apartheid-our individual tasks were puny. There was also the apparent reality that the most committed, most directly confrontational people suffered more. The most "revolutionary" often ended up severely beaten, in prison, or dead. Shot down in front of their children, blown up in cars or in church, run over by racist drunks, raped, and thrown in the river.

In Mississippi, where I lived from 1967 to 1974, people who challenged the system anticipated menace, battery, even murder, every day. In this context, I sometimes felt ashamed that my contributions at the time were not more radical. I taught in two local black colleges, I wrote about the Movement, and I created tiny history booklets which were used to teach the teachers of children enrolled in Head Start. And, of course, I was interracially married, which was illegal. It was perhaps in Mississippi during those years that I understood how the daily news of disaster can become, for the spirit, a numbing assault, and that one's own activism, however modest, fighting against this tide of death, provides at least the possibility of generating a different kind of "news." A "news" that empowers rather than defeats.

There is always a moment in any kind of struggle when one feels in full bloom. Vivid. Alive. One might be blown to bits in such a moment and still be at peace. Martin Luther King Jr. at the mountaintop. Gandhi dying with the name of God on his lips. Sojourner Truth baring her breasts at a women's rights convention in 1851. Harriet Tubman exposing her revolver to some of the slaves she had freed, who, fearing an unknown freedom, looked longingly backward to their captivity, thereby endangering the freedom of all. To be such a person or to witness anyone at this moment of transcendent presence is to know that what is human is linked, by a daring comparison, to what is divine. During my years of being close to people engaged in changing the world, I have seen fear turn into courage. Sorrow into joy. Funerals into celebrations. Because whatever the consequences, people, standing side by side, have expressed who they really are, and that ultimately they believe in the love of the world and each other enough to be that-which is the foundation of activism.

It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world.

For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.

In this regard, I have a story to tell. In the mid-sixties during a voter registration campaign in south Georgia, my canvassing partner, Beverly, a local black teenager, was arrested on a bogus moving-violation charge. This was meant to intimidate her, "show her her place," and terrify her family. Those of us who feared for her safety during the night held a vigil outside the jail. I remember the raw vulnerability I felt as the swaggering state troopers-each of them three times Beverly's size, and mine-stomped in and out of the building, scowling at us. The feeling of solidarity with Beverly and our friends was strong, but also the feeling of being alone, as it occurred to me that not even my parents knew where I was. We were black and very young; we knew no one in white America paid the slightest attention to the deaths of such as us. It was partly because of this that we sometimes resented the presence of the white people who came to stand, and take their chances, with us. I was one of those to whom such resentment came easily.

I especially resented blond Paul from Minnesota, whose Aryan appearance meant, when he was not with us, freedom and almost worship in the race-obsessed South. I had treated him with coolness since the day we met. We certainly did not invite him to our vigil. And yet, at just the moment I felt most downhearted, I heard someone coming along the street in our direction, whistling. A moment later, Paul appeared. Still whistling a Movement spiritual that sounded strange, even comical, on his lips, he calmly took his place beside us. Knowing his Nordic presence meant a measure of safety for us, and without being asked, he offered it. This remains a moment bright as any I recall from that time.

As a poet and writer, I used to think being an activist and writing about it "demoted" me to the level of "mere journalist." Now I know that, as with the best journalists, activism is often my muse. And that it is organic. Grounded in my mother's love of beauty, the well-tended garden and the carefully swept yard, her satisfaction in knowing everyone in her environment was sheltered and fed; and in my father's insistence, even as a poor black man, easily "disappeared" for any political activity, that black people deserved the vote, black children deserved decent schools.

All we own, at least for the short time we have it, is our life. With it we write what we come to know of the world. I believe the Earth is good. That people, untortured by circumstance or fate, are also good. I do not believe the people of the world are naturally my enemies, or that animals, including snakes, are, or that Nature is. Whenever I experience evil, and it is not, unfortunately, uncommon to experience it in these times, my deepest feeling is disappointment. I have learned to accept the fact that we risk disappointment, disillusionment, even despair, every time we act. Every time we decide to believe the world can be better. Every time we decide to trust others to be as noble as we think they are. And that there might be years during which our grief is equal to, or even greater than, our hope. The alternative, however, not to act, and therefore to miss experiencing other people at their best, reaching toward their fullness, has never appealed to me.

I have learned other things: One is the futility of expecting anyone, including oneself, to be perfect. People who go about seeking to change the world, to diminish suffering, to demonstrate any kind of enlightenment, are often as flawed as anybody else. Sometimes more so. But it is the awareness of having faults, I think, and the knowledge that this links us to everyone on Earth, that opens us to courage and compassion. It occurs to me often that many of those I deeply love are flawed. They might actually have said or done some of the mean things I've felt, heard, read about, or feared. But it is their struggle with the flaw, surprisingly endearing, and the going on anyhow, that is part of what I cherish in them.

Sometimes our stones are, to us, misshapen, odd. Their color seems off. Their singing, like Paul's whistling, comical and strange. Presenting them, we perceive our own imperfect nakedness. But also, paradoxically, the wholeness, the rightness, of it. In the collective vulnerability of presence, we learn not to be afraid.

~Don't get your panties all in a bunch Malcolm... simmer down. & how exactly does asking: "weren't you in that group Malcolm?" make me a liar? It's more than a valid question given the huge amount of energy you've put into supporting the notion of the 'Holohoax' on this site; which remains the most horrific type of lie, because it rallies misguided people around racist propaganda meant to rewrite history... & ultimately, incite more conflict. So saying the Holocaust existed... just not in the way most know to be true (despite the mountains of data that prove it), is ultimately sinister... & yes, equally as disturbing as suggesting it didn't happen at all. & angrily claiming I'm "a supporter of Israel" is just off the charts bizarre. What we're talking about here transcends 'the Zionist agenda, Israel & Palestine'! Don't you see that? It's really about Humanity raising it's 'Collective-Consciousness' beyond the fray of these dualistic forces. Forces that are fading shadows of the old paradigm. Your singleness of purpose regarding Zionism & race on ACC keep you shackled to the mental chains of fear & division. Why? How's that working for ya Malcolm? Does it add fuel to your self righteous indignation to believe you're someone 'in the know'... while the rest of us are: sheeple, following the dictates of the "mainstream academia and the dinosaur media"? It's all a matter of perspective isn't it? So if committing to continually stirring the 3D pot on ACC is helping you work through something, I'll continue to throw my two cents into the mix ;-)

NewDayDawning247

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Replies

Stick February 27, 2014 at 5:15am

;-)
Stick February 26, 2014 at 4:47am

:-)
- Malcolm > Stick February 26, 2014 at 8:49am
Stick February 25, 2014 at 11:22am

~What an uplifting post! ;-) Wait a second...the truth is that statistics can be spun to support just about any narrative. A glaring example would be with what recently played out on ACC regarding the so-called 'Holohoax'. A small tribe of Holocaust deniers (weren't you in that group Malcolm?) using this Spiritual site to promote overtly racist ideas, by dragging out incendiary data to effectively whitewash some of Humanities darkest chapters. & for what? From my perspective, it's more than clear (whether the authors of these 'discussions' choose to acknowledge it consciously): To amplify 'fear & division'... & so it is with this current low-grade CNN post. What purpose does it serve? When viewed through a wider lens, the more interesting question becomes: What is the real intent behind Malcolm posting it in the first place?... To stir the pot? To suggest that 'white' Americans have the same experience with racism as 'black' Americans (like he's suggested throughout this thread)? For what it's worth Malcolm... using Obamas election as a way to simplify our countries deep racial issues (many of then institutionalized) is a tired argument... with only 60% or so of Americans even bothering to vote, it's not rocket science to see how the 'Southern Poverty Law Center' found a way to support their troubling thesis... but I digress. It goes without saying that the lower energies that promote racism are rampant throughout our world. The seemingly unending need for Human-beings to 'other' their fellows has kept us shackled to duality for far too long. Nonetheless, there are huge strides being made by those willing to raise the conversation & their actions to higher levels. When all is said & done, the vibration of this transparent CNN interview (& countless others like it) is old paradigm. It simply no longer serves the profound clarion call for us to reconnect with who we truly are, & will be rightsized by our inevitable return to Unity-Consciousness. Thankfully, the youth simply can't be bothered with this kind of thing... it is the older generations that continue to wrestle with it. We will not evolve Spiritually by attempting to rewrite our troubled history in an effort to make the shadows of the present more palatable... yet at the same time, knowing when to let go of the narratives that perpetuate division is a matter of choice. Such is the nature of the Earth-School... of the Gaian Matrix. ~TemetNosce247

Alice Walker Reflects on Working Toward Peace

My activism-cultural, political, spiritual-is rooted in my love of nature and my delight in human beings. It is when people are at peace, content, full, that they are most likely to meet my expectations, selfish, no doubt, that they be a generous, joyous, even entertaining experience for me. I believe people exist to be enjoyed, much as a restful or engaging view might be. As the ocean or drifting clouds might be. Or as if they were the human equivalent of melons, mangoes, or any other kind of attractive, seductive fruit. When I am in the presence of other human beings I want to revel in their creative and intellectual fullness, their uninhibited social warmth. I want their precious human radiance to wrap me in light. I do not want fear of war or starvation or bodily mutilation to steal both my pleasure in them and their own birthright. Everything I would like other people to be for me, I want to be for them.

I have been an activist all my adult life, though I have sometimes felt embarrassed to call myself one. In the sixties, many of us were plagued by the notion that, given the magnitude of the task before us-the dismantling of American apartheid-our individual tasks were puny. There was also the apparent reality that the most committed, most directly confrontational people suffered more. The most "revolutionary" often ended up severely beaten, in prison, or dead. Shot down in front of their children, blown up in cars or in church, run over by racist drunks, raped, and thrown in the river.

In Mississippi, where I lived from 1967 to 1974, people who challenged the system anticipated menace, battery, even murder, every day. In this context, I sometimes felt ashamed that my contributions at the time were not more radical. I taught in two local black colleges, I wrote about the Movement, and I created tiny history booklets which were used to teach the teachers of children enrolled in Head Start. And, of course, I was interracially married, which was illegal. It was perhaps in Mississippi during those years that I understood how the daily news of disaster can become, for the spirit, a numbing assault, and that one's own activism, however modest, fighting against this tide of death, provides at least the possibility of generating a different kind of "news." A "news" that empowers rather than defeats.

There is always a moment in any kind of struggle when one feels in full bloom. Vivid. Alive. One might be blown to bits in such a moment and still be at peace. Martin Luther King Jr. at the mountaintop. Gandhi dying with the name of God on his lips. Sojourner Truth baring her breasts at a women's rights convention in 1851. Harriet Tubman exposing her revolver to some of the slaves she had freed, who, fearing an unknown freedom, looked longingly backward to their captivity, thereby endangering the freedom of all. To be such a person or to witness anyone at this moment of transcendent presence is to know that what is human is linked, by a daring comparison, to what is divine. During my years of being close to people engaged in changing the world, I have seen fear turn into courage. Sorrow into joy. Funerals into celebrations. Because whatever the consequences, people, standing side by side, have expressed who they really are, and that ultimately they believe in the love of the world and each other enough to be that-which is the foundation of activism.

It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world.

For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.

In this regard, I have a story to tell. In the mid-sixties during a voter registration campaign in south Georgia, my canvassing partner, Beverly, a local black teenager, was arrested on a bogus moving-violation charge. This was meant to intimidate her, "show her her place," and terrify her family. Those of us who feared for her safety during the night held a vigil outside the jail. I remember the raw vulnerability I felt as the swaggering state troopers-each of them three times Beverly's size, and mine-stomped in and out of the building, scowling at us. The feeling of solidarity with Beverly and our friends was strong, but also the feeling of being alone, as it occurred to me that not even my parents knew where I was. We were black and very young; we knew no one in white America paid the slightest attention to the deaths of such as us. It was partly because of this that we sometimes resented the presence of the white people who came to stand, and take their chances, with us. I was one of those to whom such resentment came easily.

I especially resented blond Paul from Minnesota, whose Aryan appearance meant, when he was not with us, freedom and almost worship in the race-obsessed South. I had treated him with coolness since the day we met. We certainly did not invite him to our vigil. And yet, at just the moment I felt most downhearted, I heard someone coming along the street in our direction, whistling. A moment later, Paul appeared. Still whistling a Movement spiritual that sounded strange, even comical, on his lips, he calmly took his place beside us. Knowing his Nordic presence meant a measure of safety for us, and without being asked, he offered it. This remains a moment bright as any I recall from that time.

As a poet and writer, I used to think being an activist and writing about it "demoted" me to the level of "mere journalist." Now I know that, as with the best journalists, activism is often my muse. And that it is organic. Grounded in my mother's love of beauty, the well-tended garden and the carefully swept yard, her satisfaction in knowing everyone in her environment was sheltered and fed; and in my father's insistence, even as a poor black man, easily "disappeared" for any political activity, that black people deserved the vote, black children deserved decent schools.

All we own, at least for the short time we have it, is our life. With it we write what we come to know of the world. I believe the Earth is good. That people, untortured by circumstance or fate, are also good. I do not believe the people of the world are naturally my enemies, or that animals, including snakes, are, or that Nature is. Whenever I experience evil, and it is not, unfortunately, uncommon to experience it in these times, my deepest feeling is disappointment. I have learned to accept the fact that we risk disappointment, disillusionment, even despair, every time we act. Every time we decide to believe the world can be better. Every time we decide to trust others to be as noble as we think they are. And that there might be years during which our grief is equal to, or even greater than, our hope. The alternative, however, not to act, and therefore to miss experiencing other people at their best, reaching toward their fullness, has never appealed to me.

I have learned other things: One is the futility of expecting anyone, including oneself, to be perfect. People who go about seeking to change the world, to diminish suffering, to demonstrate any kind of enlightenment, are often as flawed as anybody else. Sometimes more so. But it is the awareness of having faults, I think, and the knowledge that this links us to everyone on Earth, that opens us to courage and compassion. It occurs to me often that many of those I deeply love are flawed. They might actually have said or done some of the mean things I've felt, heard, read about, or feared. But it is their struggle with the flaw, surprisingly endearing, and the going on anyhow, that is part of what I cherish in them.

Sometimes our stones are, to us, misshapen, odd. Their color seems off. Their singing, like Paul's whistling, comical and strange. Presenting them, we perceive our own imperfect nakedness. But also, paradoxically, the wholeness, the rightness, of it. In the collective vulnerability of presence, we learn not to be afraid.
- Malcolm > Stick February 25, 2014 at 9:15pm
  
  STICK, YOU ARE A LIAR. I NEVER SAID THE HOLOCAUST DIDN'T EXIST!! NOT ONCE!!
  
  In terms of the forces behind the Holocaust, you do not know what you're talking about because you avoid discussion on British Intelligence cracking the Nazi Enigma code (and the data involving Jewish prisoners) and the Zionist forces behind the formation of the state of Israel. Also note that your Holocaust references that you support come from sources that support Israel (i.e. mainstream academia and the dinosaur media), which makes you an indirect supporter of Israel due to your blind support of such rubbish.
  
  Here is a taped question asked by me to a former Israeli IDF soldier who openly admits that certain Jews were involved with working with the Nazis during the Holocaust; I ask the question at 5:30:
  
  Click https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th3QPLFDkJs for a discussion of Zionism and its role in the Holocaust and Israeli society (and why the Zionists believe all Palestinians must be eliminated). These are the same Zionists who played a role in the Holocaust that has been so lied about in the name of the protection of the state of Israel that you are indirectly supporting.
  - Stick > Malcolm February 26, 2014 at 1:27am
    
    ~Don't get your panties all in a bunch Malcolm... simmer down. & how exactly does asking: "weren't you in that group Malcolm?" make me a liar? It's more than a valid question given the huge amount of energy you've put into supporting the notion of the 'Holohoax' on this site; which remains the most horrific type of lie, because it rallies misguided people around racist propaganda meant to rewrite history... & ultimately, incite more conflict. So saying the Holocaust existed... just not in the way most know to be true (despite the mountains of data that prove it), is ultimately sinister... & yes, equally as disturbing as suggesting it didn't happen at all. & angrily claiming I'm "a supporter of Israel" is just off the charts bizarre. What we're talking about here transcends 'the Zionist agenda, Israel & Palestine'! Don't you see that? It's really about Humanity raising it's 'Collective-Consciousness' beyond the fray of these dualistic forces. Forces that are fading shadows of the old paradigm. Your singleness of purpose regarding Zionism & race on ACC keep you shackled to the mental chains of fear & division. Why? How's that working for ya Malcolm? Does it add fuel to your self righteous indignation to believe you're someone 'in the know'... while the rest of us are: sheeple, following the dictates of the "mainstream academia and the dinosaur media"? It's all a matter of perspective isn't it? So if committing to continually stirring the 3D pot on ACC is helping you work through something, I'll continue to throw my two cents into the mix ;-)
    
    NewDayDawning247
    - Malcolm > Stick February 26, 2014 at 8:58am
      
      Two cents isn't worth your art of words that have no proof or backing, as well as the racecard you constantly play. You're in the negative column.
      - Stick > Malcolm February 27, 2014 at 11:15am
        
        ~I'm in the negative column Malcolm?... Too funny. One only need look at the tenor of your words throughout your low-grade post to easily prove otherwise. That's the root of your problem, always trying to fit everyone in your one-dimensional columns & categories. You're stuck on stupid in the shallow end of the pool, still obsessed with playing sticks & stones. It's boring & predictable brother. Widen the scope of your viewfinder... you're missing the bigger picture. It's okay to venture out to deeper waters Malcolm... & if you unshackle yourself from the weight of fear & division, you'll find it's much easier to swim. It can even be fun! ~InLight555
        
        ( ( ( OneLoveEvolution247 ) ) )
Malcolm February 25, 2014 at 10:21am

Mark 11:15

And they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves.

John 2:15

And making a whip of cords, he drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and oxen. And he poured out the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables.
Malcolm February 25, 2014 at 4:22am

John 8:32

The Truth will Set You Free
31 So Jesus was saying to those Jews who had believed Him, "If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."

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