The Dangers of Socialism are ignored Because of Promised Perks

“Victims of War” are usually women and children. Here “History repeats itself!” 24 x 18 mixed media on canvas

In America, the Land of Plenty, we’ve grown soft. Many of us have experienced affluence, opportunity, security, a good education and a clear path to success.

According to a recent article by Cal Thomas “51% of young people between the ages of 18-29 do not support capitalism; yet even the poorest American lives better and has more opportunity for advancement than most of the rest of the world.

“Why does socialism receive such strong support among the young?” Thomas writes. “Could it be that socialism A.K.A communism is being peddled in our schools, and that newspapers and demagogues in the higher echelons of government are pushing socialism because it makes them richer and more powerful (votes)? After all, who wouldn’t rather get a check than earn one?

Thomas uses quotes to point out the fallacies of Socialism “both its false promise and its danger:”

“Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery.” – Winston Churchill

“The problem with socialism is that eventually you run out of other people’s money.” – Margaret Thatcher

“The goal of socialism is communism,” Vladimir Lenin (No matter how many times Bernie and Hillary deny it!).

“Capitalism and its political sister, democracy, offer opportunity, not guaranteed outcome. Socialism is mutually shared poverty.” Cal Thomas

“Prayer Circles” 24 x 18 acrylic on canvas

My previous blog was also politically motivated. We are in a critical juncture in America. We are leaving behind the principles that guided us in the past, and we are treating with disdain those Constitutional precepts that have made our country great for more than two hundred years. We are allowing our emotions and our lusts to determine our choices rather than history’s lessons of the past, truth or common sense.

Young people who embrace the promises and slogans of socialism should travel more to gain a perspective on what this lifestyle means. When I was last in Germany the wall was still up splitting the city of Berlin right down the middle. We were able to compare modern Berlin to its poverty-stricken sister in the East.

We cowered as we showed our passports and boarded the train. Eerie quiet confronted us on the east side as we walked into the first plaza. Red Soviet flags hung from many of the buildings. I was about to take a photo and was told by an uniformed guard that photographs were not allowed.

We used a lavatory in the visitor’s building. Coarse paper was in some cases provided as was a half-used bar of soap. We discovered later that toilet paper in East Berlin was in short supply.

People spoke softly or very little. We stumbled into a small café at lunchtime and discovered it filled with workers on their break. All eyes were upon us as we sat down. Then their private conversations continued. We were able to order something to eat and chose what the locals were having: a bowl of soup and a slice of bread.

We were able to bring a few souvenirs across the border upon our return. I chose some ordinary shops; a hardware store and a small department store. I wanted to see what the residents normally purchased and how they lived. I came home with a small shelf that was nailed with wooden pegs, and two planters that were made without any nails. We also bought our children a Russian set of nesting dolls made in the Ukraine.

It became obvious by the end of the day that the people lived simply and in constant fear. They, and us, were being watched and monitored. If the citizens received any goods or services from “The State” it was not obvious. When people are entrapped and they can’t travel or purchase fine things for themselves, they are nothing more than prisoners and slaves in their own land.

“Prince of Thieves” 20 x 16  canvas — Oil on acrylic under painting

In socialism and communism the only people who eat well and spend luxuriously are the ruling class. Everyone else is a ward of the state. What happens is the ambitious and powerful rise to the top while the regular folks, the workers fall into poverty and stagnation.

Is shared poverty what you want? Will you trade your freedoms for dependency and submission? In the beginning having free healthcare, free education and food sounds fantastic. But all that glitters is not gold. Someone has to pay the piper and it just might be you.

 

Control – Oh, the Power it Wields!

Two paintings from my “With These Hands” series: “Hope” on the left, and “Wonder” on the right. Oil on acrylic underpainting (mixed media)

Human nature is embarrassingly obvious. Whoever possesses the power is in control. Politicians seize it in the guise of helping the electorate; but instead, they vote themselves better health care, bigger raises, and huge pensions for retirement income.

They change the laws to suit their contributors. They vote out term limits so they can keep getting re-elected using the same lies they did when they first got elected. If the people in the states they represent feel like they’re getting the benefits, they grant them power for another term.

Today the establishment elite are afraid of losing that power. In their efforts to gain control, they are using lies and corruption to create a climate for take-over. Will the people allow it? In this “government of the people” are the elites once again trying to deceive in order to regain what for them is almost lost?

The whole affair makes me sick to my stomach. Because I support Trump, I’m tired of being told I’m not smart, I’m stupid, I’m a “far right loon” or worse. And this does not come from the democrats, but from the party I have supported not only with my votes, but with my money.

Many are backing off because they shun the labels the media and the establishment sling at them. So rather than be called an ignoramus for following Trump “the clown,” they fall in line behind the establishment candidates. Cowards! If we cease to stand for what we believe and blindly follow behind the demagogues who are beholden to their lobbyists and donors and not to “we the people,” America is lost.

If Donald Trump wins the delegate votes, isn’t it unconstitutional to try to take them away from him after the people have spoken? Romney thinks he has the power to take them away. If he is the shadow candidate, he not only won’t win, Hillary will get the nomination.

The “Rhinos” don’t care who wins as long as they can keep feeding at the trough courtesy of John Q. Public. But surprise! The more they sling mud at the Trump campaign, the more followers he obtains and this has the establishment in an angry frenzy of desperation. Poor little Marco thinks he has a shot at being President, but he’s only a pawn in the game to push Romney to the head of the pack.

The same power struggle happens in marriage. The one who has financial control, usually holds the winning hand. Sometimes money is withheld in order to manipulate or hurt. At other times the power may be used in the bedroom to withhold sex or affection. Power is often used to intimidate, embarrass, or belittle. Weak people are more likely to use this power to hurt others. The perpetrators may be male or female.

The third in the “With These Hands” series: “Love” all available at http://carol-allen-anfinsen.pixels.com

Greed and selfishness are at the center of all power disputes. Facts are distorted. Reputations are sullied. Self-respect and self-esteem are both destroyed. There are no winners. But in this election year, it is not a game. It’s a matter of life and death. Our country is so saddled by debt it is already on the verge of collapse. Our Constitution is in shreds. Our precious rights and liberties are being eroded to the point of no return and both parties are guilty of their destruction.

You can’t afford to be ignorant when you vote. Study the issues. Read both sides of an argument and determine the facts. If you don’t really care then please don’t vote. The right to vote was earned by someone else’s blood and tears. Some even lost their lives in preserving freedom. At this critical juncture in American history you can’t afford to sit this one out. Remember the saying: “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” We must keep the power with the people.

“First Daffodil” the hope of Spring.

The Bare Bones of Courage, Compassion and Hope Define Us

“Queen of Diamonds” mixed-media 20×20

I’m finishing another book “The girl from Krakow” about hatred and war. These dire circumstances often bring out the depraved character of desperate people.

When basic needs are not met, there is little else to occupy the mind. The gnawing in your stomach. The loneliness and fear. The lack of creature comforts. Separation from family and friends. The loss of loved ones.

In that scenario, the brutal, the corrupt and the vicious crawl out from their slimy hiding places along with the courageous, the stalwart and the survivors. The skeletal structure of a country is laid bare. The degeneration of basic values such as honesty, morality, and tolerance are exposed. Some acquiesce to get along or because of fear. Others become enmeshed in their own greed for power and succumb to evil.

As the English poet, Alexander Pope (1688-1744) penned:

“Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

Will you be one of those people who get lost in the evil around you and wallow in depravity? Will you become a survivor willing to do anything to stay alive? How will you carve out a life for yourself that will stand you in good stead when the crisis is over?

Character is formed in the heated fire of decision. There are those who manage to summon courage not only for themselves, but for others. When the battle rages, there are those who lift spirits, shelter strangers and comfort the lost.

Those who prey on the needy are the neediest of all. They bully and threaten their way to the top, scrambling over the arms and legs of their victims. When the battle is over, they slink back to their dark corners waiting for the next opportunity to take what isn’t theirs, even if it’s only a man or woman’s dignity.

Evil is cowardly. Evil attacks us from behind. Prowess disguised as strength uses criticism and character assassination to bring others down to their puny size. Unrelenting in their pursuit of domination, the attacker wields authority, power, and rage to destroy and denigrate. Some are able to withstand the assault and pressure others are not.

I read about these horrible times in history with a great deal of empathy and understanding. Will I be able to endure should the fight be brought to our shores?

My grandson serving in the Navy and then working with the Coast Guard.

We all wonder “What is my mettle? Will I end up a hero, a coward, or a chameleon blending in with evil and doing nothing to change it? In preparing for disaster, we must calculate our strengths and build a reserve of courage, compassion and faith. It is only in the present that we may work to change the future.

There are Times when Nothing Else Will Do But a Good and True Friend

“Beach Buddies” mixed media on canvas

As long as men are stronger than women, there will never be true equality between the sexes. Strength and muscle alone dictate that it cannot be so. Since time began, power has always gone to the “leader of the pack with his prowess as hunter and conqueror” while women bore the children and handled domestic chores at home. Of course, you can also find the opposite within different ethnic and tribal groups; but they are the exception rather than the rule.

Even today there are cultures and religions in the world who subjugate the weakest members in favor of the loud, the strong, and the violent. Ruling by fear and brute force, they overpower rather than lead. They dominate rather than seduce. They withhold affection and communication in their efforts to control. This can be done by both men and women; but in the majority of instances, it is done by the male of the species.

“Broken” mixed media on canvas; SOLD, but prints available.

You may argue that times have changed. Today women can rise above the so-called “glass ceiling;” and with divorce as an option, they can always leave threatening circumstances. True, but not without many, many hurdles children being only one of them.

When it comes to “division of property” and closing bank accounts, it is easier said than done. Did you know that a man may close a “joint” checking account, but a woman must have her husband’s consent and signature, even though she may have been the only contributor? If there is wealth involved, a costly battle may ensue.

My first husband thought I should receive a pittance since I was a stay at home wife. He told my attorney that I had not contributed to the purchase of the house nor its maintenance nor to family expenses. My attorney pointed out that I’d given him six children, took care of them, cleaned the house, shopped for groceries and school clothes, and prepared all of their meals for 30 years. Was it not reasonable to be paid for my efforts?

I walked away from that marriage feeling worthless, empty, unloved and abandoned; even though it was I who had filed for divorce. Sadly, three words were all it would have taken for me to come back: “I love you.” Words I had heard only a few times during our lifetime together.

If you doubt what I’m saying, gather together a few women who have experienced physical abuse, emotional and verbal abuse, financial deprivation or divorce, and they will drown you out with their truth: equality is something they never knew, only fear; but I’ll save that for another time.

Now that I have your attention, this article is not about male versus female. It is about the importance of having friends to share your frustrations and your dreams (women friends for women, and male friends for men, or a mix of both). True friends can give your life meaning. They can provide the hugs, the support and the encouragement that somehow went missing in your marriage.

Friends can bring laughter into your life and a safe place to just be yourself. Even when you’ve lost the very notion of who you are, friends can provide a safe haven to “let your hair down.” Friends may give you an outlet to express how you really feel. Fear and feelings of failure can oppress you to the point of suicide if it is not allowed to surface.

“Kindred Spirits” Lge. acrylic on canvas

Friends can hold you together when you feel that you’re falling apart from the inside out. They provide tangible evidence that you really exist and that you have value. It is difficult to get in touch with a “higher power” or to have any spiritual connection when you’re battling in the trenches for survival.

I remember a time in my life when I thought: “God is a man (or so the Bible says).” If I can’t put my trust in my husband, who is a man, how will I ever be able to trust God? If a woman has also been abused by her father or a spiritual leader, this makes it even more impossible that she will ever trust in God.

Think about that men? How you treat your young daughters, and their mothers — your wives, is in direct relationship to the way they will eventually feel about God; not only today, but forever. That is a great burden on you to treat them as God would, with love and patience.

Lead instead of pushing from behind. Let your good example do the teaching. If that doesn’t seem to work, pray together. Tell your children and your spouse that you love them. This advice can be reversed if the woman is the nagger and abuser.

Life is too short to beat on or threaten the people you hold dear. Cherish them. Tell them often that you love them. Live your life with hope for the future not with regrets.

The Food we eat — The Risks we take

A valley between crests of the Wasatch Mountains

We were on vacation. A family camping trip with cousins and relatives we hadn’t seen in years. The children were ecstatic. The majestic Wasatch Mountains overshadowed our camp and sheltered us from harm. Stalwart pines kept watch and whispered windswept secrets in our ears. Their natural scent recalled holidays past and surrounded us with rustic earthy pleasure.

The morning before we broke camp, we dined on scrambled eggs and bacon, topped off with fresh squeezed orange juice. We were bloated with pioneer spirit. Our family, eastern city dwellers, had weathered the ruggedness as well as our western “rellies,” or so we thought. In less than 24 hours, all five of us had plunged into the depths of despair.

Our family was laid flat by what we thought was influenza. We were barfing and “trotting” and there was blood showing up in both. Eventually we discovered that we had been poisoned by Salmonella. The orange juice had encouraged the bacteria’s swift growth and surge through our bodies.

Apparently the farm families were used to eating cracked eggs that were not well refrigerated. Not one of them had gotten sick. It was we “city folk” who had fallen prey. That experience has made me an even greater waster than I was before. Now if something looks dry, has an odd color or smell – out it goes! No ifs, ands, or buts.

Watercolor on silk; my version of that Wasatch Mountain valley

Food is a basic necessity. We should not only work to keep it clean and safe, but we should ensure that it is always under our control.

What happens when governments gain too much power? They obtain a strangle hold over goods and natural resources. When governments control the food supply, they can choke off rebellion and use the people as puppets and slaves to do their bidding. On the pretext that they’re here to protect the consumer, the citizenry, they take over more and more industries and services in their grab for dominance

Some third world countries and old regimes have already done this increasing the turmoil and unrest that already existed. Citizens are forced into bread lines with other desperate people fighting for their basic necessities only to find that the food is gone by the time they get to the head of the queue.

Once, they could have stopped this savagery, but they didn’t. When they still had the power as citizens and voters, they shrugged their shoulders and let it happen. Helplessness set in. Compliance became submission. Now instead of the government serving the people, the people are property of the state. Their privacy rights were swallowed up first by the greedy and powerful. Next came freedom of expression followed by freedom of choice.

“Broken” mixed media on canvas; SOLD, but prints available.

Even in our own country the government is trying to enforce guidelines for eating because Americans are too fat and can’t do it themselves. The government, already the largest landowner, is now buying up businesses that compete with their own purposes and agendas. Regulations are responsible for spiking food prices and sending the cost of other commodities soaring.

We don’t need the government to be our “Big Brother,” or father or mother. The job of politicians is to govern not parent. We still hear our own parents whispering in our ears: “Did you brush your teeth? Have you said your prayers? What did you eat for breakfast?”  Why would we want a powerful group of strangers in the White House to repeat these same old refrains?

Of course, none of us want salmonella or E. coli. With our tax dollars, governments do a pretty good job of keeping our foods clean and safe. But when they start dictating what foods we should eat and forcing us to conform to unlegislated regulations, we have the makings of a tyranny.

Every responsibility we forsake as a family, community or state ends up under government control. So next time you sink your teeth into that luscious hamburger, ask yourself: “Do I want to allow the government to choose whether I have a pickle on my hamburger or ketchup or mayonnaise? Do I want the government to tell me how much food I’m allowed to buy at the grocery store and then define for me what I can purchase?”

“Fish Market” acrylic on canvas

A Person’s Life should be a Living Song

“Tickles from God” 24 x 18 acrylic on canvas

My mother’s joyful heart was evident in our home, in her well cared for garden, and in her twinkling blue eyes. She whistled bird song while she worked, and she sang to us from morning to night. I in turn sang to my children as I cradled them in my arms and rocked them to sleep. When they were older I tucked them into bed with a song. Sometimes I made up my own words and music using silly rhymes that made them laugh.

We are born to music. Our lives follow the rhythms of nature. Our blood flows through our veins like a silent river keeping us alive with every heartbeat. Our attitudes and choices build a bridge to the powers of the universe. Eternal wisdom passes between heaven and earth and whispers in our ears if we stay in tune with its melodic harmony. It is within our grasp to be happy. Sadly, some of us leave this earth without ever having sung the songs we were meant to sing.

“Mother and Child” 11 x 14 brush drawing

Joan Baez was a gifted singer and writer of amazing songs during the 60s. Some found her words too truthful and abrasive, but I wasn’t one of them. Her velvet voice allowed her to say things that others couldn’t say. She cut to the core of truth and wrapped it in savory chords of melody that we sang for days and weeks after we heard them for the first time. Her ballad “Honest Lullaby” came to me as I remembered my own lullabies to my children.

HONEST LULLABY
(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

Early early in the game
I taught myself to sing and play
And use a little trickery
On kids who never favored me
Those were years of crinoline slips
And cotton skirts and swinging hips
And dangerously painted lips
And stars of stage and screen
Pedal pushers, ankle socks
Padded bras and campus jocks
Who hid their vernal equinox
In pairs of faded jeans
And slept at home resentfully
Coveting their dreams

And often have I wondered
How the years and I survived
I had a mother who sang to me
An honest lullaby

Yellow, brown, and black and white
Our Father bless us all tonight
I bowed my head at the football games
And closed the prayer in Jesus’ name
Lusting after football heroes
tough Pachuco, little Neroes
Forfeiting my A’s for zeroes
Futures unforeseen

Spending all my energy
In keeping my virginity
And living in a fantasy
In love with Jimmy Dean
If you will be my king, Jimmy, Jimmy,
I will be your queen

And often have I wondered
How the years and I survived
I had a mother who sang to me
An honest lullaby

I travelled all around the world
And knew more than the other girls
Of foreign languages and schools
Paris, Rome and Istanbul
But those things never worked for me
The town was much too small you see
And people have a way of being
Even smaller yet

But all the same though life is hard
And no one promised me a garden
Of roses, so I did okay
I took what I could get
And did the things that I might do
For those less fortunate

And often have I wondered
How the years and I survived
I had a mother who sang to me
An honest lullaby

Now look at you, you must be growing
A quarter of an inch a day
You’ve already lived near half the years
You’ll be when you go away
With your teddy bears and alligators
Enterprise communicators
All the tiny aviators head into the sky

And while the others play with you
I hope to find a way with you
And sometimes spend a day with you
I’ll catch you as you fly
Or if I’m worth a mother’s salt
I’ll wave as you go by

And if you should ever wonder
How the years and you’ll survive
Honey, you’ve got a mother who sings to you
Dances on the strings for you
Opens her heart and brings to you
An honest lullaby
© 1977, 1979 Gabriel Earl Music (ASCAP)

Healthy ways to vent your Anger and Avoid Hurting Others

A Joyful Heart, 11 x 14 pastel

Have you ever been used as a scapegoat? Have you felt the brunt of anger lobbed at you for someone else’s mistake?

When I was in 6th grade, a nasty letter was written that caused someone else much grief. My name was signed as the sender. Although I denied it, the label stuck. My friends peeled off as quickly as an overripe banana. I stood alone defending my lost honor. I was the fall guy; the whipping boy (or girl) for the whole class. I was singled out as a bully.

By the time the actual writer of the letter was discovered, it was too late. I remained forever tainted by the incident like yesterday’s chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe.

When bad things happen, people look for someone to blame. Sometimes it’s the person nearest to the scene. At other times, as in this instance, someone forges your name and incriminates you damaging both your reputation and self-esteem. Once people have someone they can rant on or whip, they feel better, even though it may be the wrong person.

I have been reading several books on slavery. The last two especially had an impact on me: “The Invention of Wings” by Sue Monk Kidd, and “The Kitchen House” by Kathleen Grissom. What did I learn from reading these books? Above all, that slavery is an abomination. Anytime weak human beings can own other human beings they’re going to abuse them. Even though some slave owners may have treated their slaves civilly, most did not.

Evil, cowardly owners took out their own frustrations and anger on the most helpless and defenseless. If you dared to speak up, a hammer might be used to slam out your front teeth, or a whip used to gouge bloody stripes on your back. You may have been starved, beaten, maimed, forced to work with little food all in the name of control and obedience.

I believe this practice will forever scar America or any country where it is practiced. Today, young alien girls are forced into sexual slavery. Their illegal entry into this country makes them vulnerable and alone. They become easy prey to the low-lives that creep out of the depths of hell to use and abuse them. While horrifying and ugly, these personal assaults are not the only way to cause pain.

Gossip and untruths can hurt the innocent and scar them for life. Because of my childhood experience, I still don’t make friends easily, even though I love people. I’ve been accused of being “aloof” as I test the waters about who I can trust. My heart goes out to young people who are betrayed by their so-called friends or manipulated by an adult or a leader with ulterior motives. The anger from this kind of trauma has to go somewhere.

I once received a gift. It was a yellow calico doll with a label that read: “Damn it Doll.” A tag with instructions said: “When you feel angry, grab a hold of doll’s legs and whack it against a wall or a table. Repeat action until you feel better.”

I’ve used my “Damn it Doll” more than a few times. I must admit I felt better afterward. A few solid whacks and the pent up anger inside of me was released. The Doll became my whipping boy. Instead of unleashing my anger on the perpetrator, I vented my inner demons, with the help of the doll, on inanimate objects.

We all need a way to release our anger. If we don’t, anger may turn inward and become depression. Leave the rough stuff to the demons. Find your own “whipping boy” preferably a non-living object and whack your way to freedom. Save your own dignity and that of someone else.