By
Every act of love is a change in the universe.
Recently, on a beautiful, serene afternoon, I was strolling along the
crowded Venice boardwalk, playing my part in God's ant farm. A common
spirit seemed to transcend age, gender, appearance, vocation, ethnicity,
language, religion. It was like a mobile oasis; as if a truce had been
declared, where inhumanity was replaced by empathy. Despite my awareness of
unspeakable anguish
The first time it happened, I was seven years old. A fellow student
stood in front of the class, unzipped his fly, and exposed his penis. He
was sent to reform school. Without having the vocabulary
I never knew when I would experience these flashes of optimism. In
December 1960, when I traveled to Cuba, the State Department was financing
counterrevolutionary broadcasts from a radio station on Swan Island in
Honduras. Program content ranged from telling Cubans that their children
would be taken away, to warning them that a Russian drug was being added to
their food and milk which would automatically turn them into Communists. In
the Sierra Maestra, where battles once raged, there were now under
construction schools and dormitories for 20,000 children--to match the
20,000 Cubans who lost their lives, many after torture, under the
U.S.-spported Batista regime At one of these educational communities, some
young students removed the string that been set up by a landscaping crew to
mark off a cement foundtion. Next morning, the school director lectured
them about such immorality. Even a little thing like that, he explained,
does harm to the revolution. The children of Cuba were being programmed
for cooperation rather than competition, and it made me quiver with
hopefulness.
A recent study concluded that human beings are mentally wired to
cooperate, and I witnessed that concept in action at the shadow conventions
in Philadelphia and Los Angeles during the 2000 presidential campaign.
Once, at a benefit, I met songwriter/troubadour Harry Chapin backstage, and
I'll never forget his words: If you don't act like there's hope, there is
no hope. Placebos do work, after all. And yet, I in retrospect, I realize
that I often acted as if there were no hope. During the 60s, when abortion
was illegal, I served as an underground referral service, but I never
dreamed that it would become legal in my lifetime. I didn't like to eat in
restaurants or fly in planes because of cigarette smoking, but I never
thought it would become illegal in my lifetime. I joined protest
demonstrations against the Vietnam War and for civil rights, against
circumcision and for an end to nuclear testing, never speculating as to how
effective we were, but always knowing that the option was to do nothing.
I became obsessed with investigating a government plot to neutralize the
countercultural threat to control-freaks and economic-forecasters--the FBI
had a special Hippie Squad where they were taught how to roll joints, the
better to infiltrate--and I eventually freaked out from information
overload. A turning point in this psychotic episode came late one night
while talking with an old friend. As we spoke, we were rolling billiard
balls back and forth across a pool table in the living room, pushing and
catching them with our hands rather than hitting them with a cue-stick and
waking up our hosts.
How long is it gonna go on? I asked -
Maybe never.
Suddenly I felt a wave of relief. So it *wasn't* all my responsibility.
Such a heavy burden had been lifted from my soul. I understood that I could
participate in the process of change without becoming attached to it. That
I could maintain sanity in the midst of insanity by developing the ability
to be a passionate activist and an objective observer simultaneously. That
I needn't take myself as seriously as my causes.
Recently, I asked High Times editor Steve Hager, who is deep into
conspiracy research, how he remains optimistic. He replied, My rule is:
Forget about tearing down the establishment (it'll never happen, the Octopus
is too powerful). Instead, concentrate on building an alternative culture
and passing it down to anyone who cares. Real ceremonies create positive
energy, but when you focus solely on exposing Nazis, you are living in their
twisted world.
Or, as Ram Dass said at the Oregon Country Fair in July, The greatest
social action is the individual heart...heart to heart resuscitation.
Hanging around with him renewed my sense of optimism, but of course that may
merely be a result of my damaged chromosomes from taking too many acid
trips.
(C) 2003 - Paul Krassner
Paul Krassner
--Aleister Crowley
occurring around the world, a feeling of hope surged
through my body. That kind of epiphany had
occurred many times before.
to express it,I thought that the punishment didn't fit the crime. The next morning,
I walked to school with a mission. I stood in front of the class, unzipped my
fly, and exposed a portrait of my penis that I had drawn the previous
evening. While carrying out that self-assigned art homework, I had become
engulfed by a blast of pure optimism--I was totally confident that I would
not get in trouble for what I planned to do. My parents were called to
school and were advised to take me to a psychiatrist, but they knew better.
In retrospect, though, I still have to wonder, What the fuck ever made me
do that!
If it were to happen now, I would undoubtedly be force-fed
Ritalin through a Pez dispenser.
How long is *what* gonna go on?
You know, the battle between good and evil, when is it gonna *end*?
his stand-up satire album is Irony Lives! (Artemis Records);
Paul's web site is paulkrassner.com