George W. Bush—Avatar?

A P. S. Upfront: This post was rejected by my Huff Post editors as being "too out there!" Here you go!

The quote on my Google home page was from Saki, the Burman-born British poet who was killed during the First World War: He is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death.

I don’t know to whom Saki referred, but I know people who feel this way about G.W.B. and, to be honest, I was tempted to go there for a nanosecond, but I know too much about how the universe works to spend any time there. The most recent issue of Utne Reader had an article about his legacy as, believe it or not, the AIDS president. Legacy, schmegacy. I think his legacy is far greater than anyone yet realizes. Even him.

I’d better cop to it up front: I am a Democrat, and I am also committed to living a consciously spiritual life, the discipline of which asks me to seek and find meaning in the events of my time.

What kind of consciousness in the United States of America chose a president like George W. Bush? I mean it. I’m really asking. Because, to my way of thinking, he reflects something in that famous mass the pols call “the American people.” What is G.W.B. showing us about ourselves?

Let’s see . . . our apathy . . . our thoughtlessness . . . our short-sightedness . . . our hubris . . . our own Teflonned hearts . . . our inconsideration . . . our denial . . . our lack of care for ourselves, others and the planet. I could go on but you catch my drift.

Relationships, dear one, are mirrors. There really is no them, as in them and us; there’s only us. George Walker Bush is showing us something. It’s our task to determine what. Why would a benevolent universe ask us to look at these things?

Because. Because it’s time. Because it’s now. Because it’s now or never. The American people need to see who George W. Bush really is so that we’ll wake up. That’s what I think his true legacy is.

Try this on: George Walker Bush, preincarnate soul, appears in Heaven to meet with his guidance counselor before he arrives in his mother’s arms.

GC: “George, for that will be your name, are you sure?”
GW: “I am, GC. I’ll do it. They need it.”
GC: “It won’t be easy. People will think ill of you.”
GW: “I know, and it’s okay. I’ll be indifferent in order to make a difference.”
GC: “You got it, GW. Now . . . birth!”

What if it’s true? What if George Bush made a soul agreement, one he knows nothing of on a conscious level, to act as cruelly as he has to fulfill the function of an avatar—a human incarnation of an aspect of Divinity—so that we, the American people, would wake up into caring about ourselves, others and our planet.

And isn’t that exactly what has happened during the 2006 midterm elections, the primaries this year, and, hopefully, the 2008 presidential election?

So although Saki’s sentiment tempts me, my spiritual practice asks for something else: gratitude. Thanks, G.W.B., for doing your soul duty!

Who’s Your {Super}hero?

As a rule, magazine articles don’t make me cry, but reading Utne this morning, I teared up and spilled over. The article is called “Geek Squads: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! “It’s a superhero—in your neighborhood!” In my original flip through the magazine, I was pretty sure this article was about those wonderful white socked, skinny-tied computer wizards who make housecalls, but no . . .

Author Kristen Mueller cites a magazine called Punk Planet, “An entire community of real-life superheroes patrols the streets from Los Angeles to Boise, Chicago to Phoenix.” Who knew? A New York City superhero named Dark Guardian said,

“It’s all about standing up for what’s right.”

The President of the United States commuted Scooter Libby’s prison sentence the day before yesterday, and I am dismayed. This action is so far from standing up for what’s right that it makes me feel ill. That’s why I cried over the superheroes. Because they exist.

The thing it made me wonder about is this: does a superhero/ine exist in each one of us? Let’s say it does. You have a superhero inside you. Who is he? Who is she? Would you let him/her out if you could? When? Under what circumstances? Why? Why not? What’s her name? How is he costumed? What’s the mission?

A New York metro area superhero named Tothian says, “I’m pretty much fighting the bad guys, saving the world, that kind of stuff.” Superheroes also pick up trash, stop older kids from bullying younger ones, and provide hope—hope that there is within ourselves and our race a genuine, natural desire to stand up for what’s right.

Another superhero in Flagstaff, Arizona, Kevlex runs the World Superhero Registry. He says that real-life superheroes are trying to prove that . . .

anyone can provoke change

by “taking a stand for your version of the world, and doing it in a very public way.” I suppose it could be argued that this is just what George W. Bush and his cronies are doing, but the superhero designation adds a twist to the equation.

In ancient mythology, a hero/ine was a human who mediated between humanity and the divinity, a human plus and/or a deity minus. On this Independence Day, consider spending a little of your holiday daydreaming your own inner superhero/ine into reality. We need the hope your existence inspires.