from here to peace

The right have an advantage at the moment. It's not at all tough for them to embody their values. Among their confreres, they can support big business, war, anti abortion laws, lie, cheat, and commit all kinds of crimes against justice for profit and the sake of all that makes money for them. The left has to represent all that is humanitarian and positive. In the world of modern politics such virtues seem laughable, the naive liberal environmentalist geek, no head for business, no heart for the real issues or stamina for the tough challenges of our nasty world. The core of the left is non agressive. Love may not force but is inevitably irresistable in the relief and limitless power it restores. I often say, we don't even know what we can do

There are people attracted to the right for very noble reasons. My oil man for instance I look up to for deeply good human values. Recently he admitted to me that he supports the Bush adminstration whole heartedly. This man supplies heavy duty oil to a cross section of my community, gets knee deep in this very unhealthy substance for us probably often 7 days a week , took over for his dad I bet twenty years ago or more. Is used to making big compromises, endangering his health for the sake of his family and community. He and I used to chat happily til this recent revelation; I'm betting he's been duking it out over the past eight years with those much tougher than me, God forbid including (I'm only imagining) close family members. Anyway, he doesn't want to engage anymore, and I'm heart broken, such is the climate now vis a vis adherance to one or another political train of thought. But soon it will come down to very basic human survival , and my friendly oilman will not be able to be fooled any longer. Soon the veil of rhetoric will lift, the fog of war blow out to sea and all will stand or fall on the side of their effectiveness. Are they life affirming? Do they promote health and happiness? Security? Unity? Wellbeing? Confidence? Go from there. If some key inventions of the last hundred years had been allowed to flourish, my oilman would have been involving himself in nontoxic energy solutions.

The left could be alot more confident. For instance when the right claims the left has no ideas, the correct response is, the left has all the ideas. The right only parrots the ideas of the left to seem to care about the same things, health care, children's rights and education, economic growth and stability, the environment, world stability and cultural harmony, global synergy, a game in which the left would do well to stop playing stooge. We need to brazenly publicize all the things those who wave the banner of the fool do: all the strange technology, networks of crazy operatives, undercover beaurocracies, just to name a few ill represented possibilities purveyed by those who need to mask their campaign to subourne all human intuition and instinct to maintain an exclusive, callous, brutal value system that empowers and pays them lavishly. The left needs to show up at the threshholds of their borders and bear witness openly to the entire scope of the shinanigans, the whole truth, nothing omitted, expose the skeleton and fingernails, platform shoes, tupees and dentures, micro chips and steroids, the entirety, the bulk of the matter, so the extravagantly enormous effort they're bringing to bear to sustain so much unecessary pain can be fully appreciated.

Finally, the very best and only way to bring around those caught up in the whirl of false magesty is to embody constructive values, the continuous revelation of the power of life, that illdefined requisite, love, and it's companions compassion and forgiveness, humility and truth. They are so essential, the rewards so great, no challenge will ever meet or overshadow them. They are the basis for all illusions, all addictions, they are our ultimate goal. Unselfishness, simplicity, innocence, purity, honesty are our natural impulses, the thwarting of which is at the root of all madness. They live in the sigh of relief at the return to loved ones, those who think highly of us, understand us, forgive us, want to be kind to us, encourage, heal and teach us. Those we trust. These returns can be world wide. I pray often that those of us in goverment and other positions of power be touched by the spirit of the creator so that none can ever again think of another without empathy, never look at a wilderness and think, I can make so much money off this valley or mountain top, or riverbed regardless of the expense to all natural life there. Never choose dollars over sense. Never make a move without consulting the heart. Include the creator in all policies and actions, not in a religious way but a deeply personal way. The result I am confident will be astonishingly, envigoratingly beautiful and abundant beyond our wildest dreams.

on being homeless and homelessness

It's a funny dynamic that my own experiences of homelessness and the subject of homelessness separate, as they must for so many or things would be so much better for those going through such celebrated challenges. There has been a homelessness problem in our midst for oh just thousands of years. Someone to kick and look down on, the straights of survival having obscured our natural inclinations of compassion and made us petty and bitter. With notable exceptions. When Sitting Bull went to Washington he was impressed with the buildings and number of people but was horrified by the number of ill clad, starving homeless, the Souix would never let one of theirs go unsheltered or hungry. The Amish take care of their own. But we consider ourselves superior to such unsophisticated or primitive societies, find them impossible to emulate. Eventually, I know we will find a way to honor all our people, realize that some are truly buried alive in trauma or responsibilty or circumstances and deserve our confidence and help. Meanwhile, there's big trouble in paradise.

The reason for the separation of the two sides for me is not that I forget my own experiences when dealing with the needs of those going through homelesness, but that my empathy and understanding create an intensity of devotion and feeling that is it seems very hard to deal with for others who have never been through such unpleasant preassures and conditions. I don't deal well with dilettantes and do-gooders, which is extremely unfortunate because they make up most of the helpout community. Precious few of the exhomeless want to go back and serve those who are currently at risk so horrendous are the terrors of this predicament, so daunting the threat of return, they can't spare a moment of new won selfsufficiency to look back, don't want to go back.

New Haven spends more than all the rest of Connecticut put together, but in the last several years, since 2002, there has been a wavering, a testing of the limits of the system that has served so many for some decades now. A young woman of color but not much experience took over the Department of Social Services and things began to grow dark for our most desperate. A limited stay policy was installed when she found out that some shelter residents had incomes. But the 90 day policy they passed doesn't target just those who have money coming in, it targets everybody. I went to a meeting by the Homeless Advisory Board, a committee of beaurocrats, politicians, students and one handpicked homeless person who decide on policy for the city, where a shelter administrator proundly described throwing out over twenty men for their inability to find adequate housing in three months or have the necessary requirements needed for extentions. I spoke up forthrightly saying that it was wicked, so much for my future application to join the board. Often social workers, the frontline interface for all programs of rescue, are not emotionally cut out for the work; so burdensome is the case load, difficult the strategies, and unstable the clients it becomes a nightmare for many, intensifying the already intolerable stresses for their clients already undergoing extreme trauma more often than not. Kids from impossible family situations, vets, battered husbands and wives, life sends us reeling and then provides little in the way of restoration institutionally. That there is a success rate is miraculous and bespeaks the tremendous ingenuity of our species. It seems we are going through a time of image over substance. Our town fathers don't appear to want to be the city who takes care of the bedraggled indigent anymore. The shelters have become impossible or closed, and once outside, the evicted many get rounded up in the Spring and Fall, pushed out of sight of the parents of the incoming classes of Yale, Albertus Magnus, Quinnapiac, and Southern Connecticut University, are vulnerable to all kinds of vagrancy laws, no public bathrooms, on and on. Local hospitals the ER waiting rooms of which were refuges of long standing in bad weather have become hostile over the last several years and chase people out now during freezing and wet days and nights. If all could see that such bad treatment only exacerbates the problems in every way. Give people your best and they will respond in kind. How can it be good to further brutalize our most damaged lives?

When I cooked for the Edge of the Woods soup kitchen and later a soup kitchen some of us organized to cover a two week summer vacation of a church organization usually providing lunch five days a week, I used all my expertise of diet and culinary nuance and the tiny budgets, donated food, my foodstamps and small allowance, or from Edge some of a $45 wk salary to serve up the most sumptuous of soups, salads, main dishes and deserts. In 2000 I was introduced to an activist who was selfless beyond all reason, but he left for Providence and from there Chicago leaving behind a very shakey deteriorating group of illfitting locals in search of a leader. Three groups initiated by him, Respectline, that two week soup kitchen and Inside at Night: non exsistent, non exsistent and just barely alive, respectively; all so embedded with Yale and the student version of activism, they drove me out. Inside at Night which attempts to raise the $240,000 6 month budget for The Overflow Shelter, housing 100 men, only functions within the timelimits of the very busy lives of the two men who remain.

I can't figure out how it is intelligent people arrange things so badly. There just can't be a personal perspective operating. I spoke to a woman who was living in a family shelter with her son. She worked and had to be at her job early, had to feed and deliver her son to school early enough to get to work, but shelter policy required her to follow rules that made her life impossible. She wasn't allowed to miss daily meetings during the day, not allowed to leave the building early enought to make her bus, was being threatened with expulsion. Huh?

Often at meetings for Respect Line, a group organized to air grievances and support the causes of shelter residents, people said they prefered jail to shelters as they couldn't be expelled from jail. Just a few years ago, a woman with a heart condition was asked to leave because she had to go out to obtain heart medication which literally kept her alive, after some heated discussion, she was permitted to stay, then the next day was thrown out. She died of exposure while sleeping in a cemetary that night. Staff are not known for their compassion, or accepting the obvious seriousness of their responsibility. Shelters are the bottom line, everything should be considered before throwing someone into the out of doors, especially an older woman in very poor health. But the attitudes are oppressive, often insulting.

I avoided shelters at all costs. As it happens, the New Haven shelters don't take pets, I always had animals so they weren't really an option anyway. Though I remember peoople advising me to "get rid" of my dogs and cats so to be more accomodatable, I couldn't go there, losing my home was bad enough, but to destroy my family too was unthinkable. I would do what ever I needed to do to keep us together and alive. Not always so possible. Once after a violent eviction, I had many cats and dogs and finally bought a dilapidated 12' trailer and lived in it for almost 6 months, leaving a trail of cats as we were asked to leave precipitously from here and there. That ended very badly with a lovely intervention by the police and courts for no real reason. Staying with friends or family can be extremely hairy especially with animals. The only advantage is the incipient attitude; shelters put you in an extremely low category, your friends won't place you quite that low, low none the less. No matter who takes you in the seismic register is always high, the possibility of eviction always prevalent. The shelter, however, must take you back after a short time, your friends or family usually won't. During the 6 month seige, I begged the New Haven Zen Center for help. We had 6 puppies with us by then. Even though I had given my life's blood to that group for years, they allowed me only 2 days and 2 nights sanctuary, and they had lots of very protected space to park, but lots! They loved the little ones, but decided for some reason to punish me. Though most of the people I know are what you might call "liberal", they aren't as a rule generous with their homes or property.

There is a campaign these days to build 10,000 units of public housing in the state, I think it's 1,000,000 units country wide, the Bush administration's version of ending homelessness. But they are locating the housing outside of cities, suburbians being so not into people in dire economic straights, didn't they move away from such unpleasant reminders of want and need? Of course housing is key, but it must meet the needs of the people it hopes to serve. If these 1,000,000 units of public housing are created with real living human beings in mind, it will work; if it is a project to build enough units to get unwanted people of the streets, out of sight, it won't. It needs to be understood that the homeless are us, valuable individuals, our relatives and friends, so much can be accomplished with this one adjustment. Homelessness is a circumstance, the cure for which is a change of heart, a redirection of attitude. The old phrase, "There but for the grace of God go I" needs to be widely resurrected. We are so distracted by our needs to succeed, efforts to ward off all avenues of disaster. Why is it not clear that the only way to ensure true security is to provide a beautiful, failsafe net for states of need, real help in times of loss and injury. Then what could frighten us?

poetry, 2007

3 new ones


Outside the coffee shop my friend's face contorted in
agony of anticipation, hearing funeral instead of a few new,
and immediately I strove to write a funeral poem
that might cheer him up.
So I thought

what about the funeral for hate?
The death of fear and loss, deception and ambition,
what about the funeral for pain and vanity and want,
need and humiliation; the deaths of disease and loneliness
and worry, trauma and torture and rape.
I thought it might be good and nice to imagine the deaths of
confusion and dispair and jealousy and isolation.
The end ceremonies for ignorance and dicotomy and pride.
I was guided to think of a funeral for darkness and destruction,
treachery and conceit. Funerals for extortion and waste and murder

Here lies our old friend
murder
Good by Good by Good by
farewell and thanks for all
the great thrillers and episodes
legends and poetry

Death, you old phoney
by by and thanks for the threats and nightmares
and panic, now I can look forward to the funeral for war,
your child and colleague, cause and result.


But those things will never have funerals, to be gone,
they must needs have been forgotten.


*******************


I am sitting here at my alter in the woods trying to
prepare myself for the arrivals of those who never have
nor can really know or appreciate me and wish I could take
this air and wind and light forever with me. Wish the love of
my buried friends could follow and comfort me into
my frightening ceremonials, my lonely night.

At least I know the feeling of kind acceptance, can come back
to love.


*********************

Long ago, when I loved a man and he left me for a younger woman,
I called after him and a man who chose to help with my humiliation
cautioned me that I should not lose my dignity. I was wretched and
hot and lost and threatened, choking in my unwanted solitude. He
burned me with the word. But now I marvel at my courage and bold
emotional array as I spewed and rankled and gasped in the hideous
wake of their sexual desperation. I was explicitly wounded. I hurled
the essence of my torture and sought refuge in actual spirits. I found
an honest pain. How is this not dignified?

Seth

The following is my account of recent events in the life of my friend of seventeen years, Seth Lerner. I must begin with some background. Seth was born and lived most of his life in Woodbridge, CT, a suburb of New Haven and one of a few enclaves of the Yale elite. Both his father and mother worked at Yale New Haven Hospital as doctor of dermatology and nurse respectively. Two of his three brothers became doctors, Peter, his oldest sibling is a lawyer. The familial scene for Seth as the youngest of the four redoubtable brothers was extremely rough, lots of insults and abuse, including according to Seth, secret, reliable rape by his next oldest brother every day after school for years. Whatever happened, it was extremely traumatic. His mother was his refuge, Seth adored her, she was his great protector, but according to a friend from those years she was only less mean to him. Seth was always an excellent student, straight A's were his yearly achievement. Finally, at Penn, he initiated an award winning radio program called Youth Point mentored by Robert Shayon who ran CBS radio news for ten years before he was black listed during the McCarthy years. [He liked Seth so much that several years ago when Seth was campaigning to be released from his brother's too rough conservatorship, though by then he was in his nineties, he came to New Haven with his wife and granddaughter and delivered a three paragraph speech to the court on Seth's behalf, took him to breakfast and lunch. It was extremely impressive.] Seth was mentioned on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, was a guest panelist on Firing Line, a Rhodes Scholarship finalist.

In 1981, weary of his reputation as a scholastically stringent, scornful kind of guy, Seth couldn't endure the hatred such emblems ensure and underwent a personal makeover, as he puts it, he deconstructed himself, decreated himself, afterwhich he became apparently somewhat disorganized. The currents of positive feeling were maybe too unfamiliar to his psyche, the patterns of positive outreach confusing. The original cast of brutal ambitious infighters were hardly the gentle, devoted caregivers and guides Seth needed. It was his father who insisted he see a psychiatrist. Seth thought a psychologist would have been more helpful, broadminded, appropriate. He saw a few doctors, most of whom he didn't like; when I asked him for names, one doctor he saw for 3 years was so hateful he wouldn't utter it. He was first prescribed psychiatric medication in '81, was on them til '83. He began seeing Dr. Steven Bunney, chairman of psychiatry at Yale, in 1985 who prescribed drugs for Seth and then took him off immediately, one can only imagine he was horrified at the disabling effects. When I met Seth, he had just come off meds, maybe half his erraticism was due to withdrawal effects, but they don't have anything to counter these other than more drugs, of course. It has been my observation over the years, that having eschewed the harsh tactics of the prominant, Seth has been drawn to those in high positions to fend for him and I believe to counter the weight of his father's prestige, to his ultimate down fall; at least til now, his projected protectors flourishing in the heart of convention have yet to be able to cope with much less enjoy or in any way apreciate the anomalies of his behavior. If Seth would choose to inhabit those groups which are inclined to accept at least his spiritual orientation he might be freer to express himself. However, those who don't shouldn't have the right to penalize someone like Seth so comprehensively. He really isn't so far out, or invasive.

When I met Seth in a very nice used bookstore here in New Haven in some warm weather months of 1991, he was aggitated and very eager to find people who would think well of him, had alot of sort of startled allies around town. Anyway, he stuck like glue immediately. Luckily, I had had experience with people with exagerrated behaviors and though I was often freaked out at Seth's implications about us, I liked him enough to want to brave through the initial onslaught and see what was on the other side. He was as it turns out a very good and generous friend, especially during two emergencies; one involving the tow of my car with my dogs still inside, he bailed us out (I was flat broke at the time) saying the whole time," I'm with you all the way!" in a strong voice; and the other, the repair of a broken molar, we went instantly to his terrific dentist, who removed the broken half expertly after several shots of novacain. Seth was always attentive in certain basic ways and always ready with a joke and knew alot about current events and local events; we went to see Robert McNeil at Yale Bookstore and Tim(?) Schriver at one of the churches on the Green. I returned favors too, I hasten to add, at his request I sewed a long tear in his winter jacket, cooked a Thanksgiving feast he paid for($40!). Seth escourted me to various restaurants as often as he was able persuade me to go. Really, Seth does extremely well, then and now.

Around the end of '91 or the beginning of '92, Seth had a very unfortunate interchange with the head archivist at the Sterling Memorial Library at Yale. Seth had gotten a degree in library science in the late 80s and had been hanging out at Sterling and engaging Richard Szarey, the archivist, for some weeks, had approached him for a job about which Mr. Szarey had been at least not discouraging, maybe encouraging at first...at any rate, Seth felt that for some time he had a chance to work for him. Suddenly, after Seth put it to him one more time about this up in the air job, Szarey told him his application was on file, ie. lost in red tape, no longer on his desk, rejected. Seth lost it, he had been being strung along, infantilized, humored, badly handled, and swore at this important Yale employee. The upshot of which was that Seth was arrested and sent to psychiatric jail, where upon he virtually fell apart, could hardly place one word in front of another much less explain or defend himself. It appeared he had no confidence he couldn't find any way to represent his creative, spiritual side of reality without digging a deep dark diagnostic grave for himself, all his nascent motivations became invitations to certain extremely derrogatory judgements. Seth felt the jaws of cold, stark order penetrating him. After a 6 year relationship, Dr. Bunney simply evaporated, Seth now calls him a fraud. Seth was totally at the mercy of his new captives: Dr. Malcolm Bowers, a pschiatric pharmicologist by specialty, Dr. Robert Millstein, Dr. Gary Plotke, and Dr. Glen Courrier.

There were sanity hearings. Many of his friends went, I went to all but one of them, I think there were four or five spaced over a period of I thought it was three months, but was possibly two. Finally, the judge admitted, "I'm not going to keep a guy just because he had a messy room or ran up a bill on his credit card." The swearing never did become a prominent issue. His family had arrived, swooped down, smearing and cackling, rumaging around, brought up the issues they wanted addressed, his finances, books bought with his credit card, which had been pinned to his confidence about the Szarey job, and the messy apartment, which I had visited so can testify to its inimitable order. His two local brothers and father with his new wife, Millie, his former nurse, all so willing to feed him utterly to the shrinks who couldn't have been more eager to accept such a tasty morsel, my friend playing so unfortunately and perfectly right into their hands, his fear driving him into shear incoherence. I should have, wish I had had the presence to say the reason is he's refering to himself in the third person is he has to objectify himself to deal with the extreme horror of the position he's in. And why should the sanctuary for people going through anomolous behavioral times be so scarey? That Seth didn't normally behave so incongruously, was usually up beat and humorous, but clearly the circumstances didn't warrant jokes and compliments. He wasn't gravely disabled, he had a busy, fun life, took good care of himself, maybe he wasn't abjectly, asiduously "normal", but was without a doubt functional, in no way gravely disabled. But I was cowed by the young resident doctors, frightened of them: Drs. Gary Plotke and Glen Courrier, two young residents: Malcolm Bowers and Robert Millstein remained out of sight. It was very tough to watch. They had him for breakfast. And talk about no habeas corpus. It kept occurring to me that there is a statute isn't there about the punishment fitting the crime; to my mind, forced drugging and three or even two as Seth now wants to attest, months in a psych ward against one's will isn't a just exchange for a quiet swearing over a clear however commonplace betrayal. But it took that long for certain key observers to figure out the genius of Seth's personality. That he in fact functioned well. Circulating around this, I sensed so much typical academic messing around, they did what they wanted. Seth was a wonderful subject for study, who cared how they affected him, who cared how humiliated and frustrated he was, they could do what they wanted with him, his behavior and beliefs were unconventional. Their attitudes and treatment inflamed his insecurities and negative input, making him more facinating. No experiments were done in the way of discovering ways to restore Seth's confidence, take a look at his accomplishments, encourage him, for it has been my experience that that relaxes him, bringing out his personhood, awakening his awareness of others, and so their trust of him and so on. But the psychiatric world it has been my misfortune to observe is still overwhelmingly foccussed on the problems rather than their cures, which would involve entering the profound areas of the "mind" and heart.

Winter '92 saw the first of many arrests for non crimes with similar consequences, and sometimes hideous abuses as the removal and destruction of all Seth's belongings; his family were given conservatorship of his life, thus could remove his stuff for whatever reason they deemed reasonable - landlord's request, okay! That happened a few times. At Seth's father's behest Seth was banned from Yale property, never an indulgent father, Aaron Lerner found Seth to be an overwhelming embarrassment and as head of dermatology, he could wield the needed authority. After a long commitment during which I visited Seth, but he was so drugged he didn't remember our hours long meeting, [His doctor Robert Stern was attempting to drug the voices out of him.] his family put him in an institution in the middle of town, the Parents Foundation, a group home for unwanted grown psychiatric casualties, very conservative, run by a suited lady and attended by many serious and strict men and women of all colors, ages, shapes, and sizes, but only one mindset - you're crazy and I'm not, so endlessly oppressive, where Seth was sent to the ER for looking for his keys in the road at 3 am [as he explained it to me, he had been asleep for 8 hours, wasn't in the least tired, had lost his keys the previous afternoon on Chapel Street, a very busy street in New Haven. So he dressed warmly and went out to search the slushy road while the eventuality of cars would be scanty. I was outraged for him. Honestly, such crap. Had he been a Yale student or just outside psychiatric purview they probably would have congratulated him for resourcefulness. Of course, the key ingredient was that he had been off meds.]. Seth got himself out of their clutches by courting the ladies who run his present public housing building and organizing hearings with the judge, and so now lives in a welfare apartment in a fairly good section of the city. He pays his bills, has worked out a patchwork income, keeps himself well dressed, very well fed, is busy writing books and letters, communicating with his many friends and people of interest. It also needs to be said, he is, almost to a fault, punctual. His most grave flaw is a constant drive to get off the debilitating medications "they" insist are doing him good.

Things had been quite uneventful for him for some years, then.....around the end of last July, he decided to renew our long friendship, called me up and I invited him for lunch, to which he came and we had a great time. There he told me 2 things, one, he was off meds and two, he was seeking to be involved with a deputy provost at Yale, Dr. Stefanie Spangler, at which I expressed congratulations, to which he demured and blushed alittle. He had been inviting her for lunch, first to one restaurant, then another. I cautioned him, I think, about too much attention. Something like that, I might only have made a mental note, but the off meds sign was blinking and I was nervous.

Anyway, sure enough, the following week he was arrested for eight phone messages to Dr. Spangler's office, 8 invitations for lunch made to her office phone to which her only and first response was a call from the police. They called after #7 and he said in obeyance to a channel from Stefanie he should try one last time, whence the police showed up at his apartment door and took him to the Yale New Haven Hospital ER and from there YPH, the former YPI. Alright, Seth channels now. I blame myself for having told Seth of my spiritual voice which has been my personal refuge and source of guidance for many years. I can't be %100 sure Seth isn't channeling who he says he is, but I know my guide would never jeopardize me in the slightest, and the advice would be perfect. But I'm willing to go with that his purpose is different from mine. At any rate, he, over time, rather than make himself less intriguing has made himself virtually irresistable to the Yale doctors. Voices! So cool, and so basic to the metaphisical world. So, hearings go by, his brother gets called in and like all the other times, Seth gets more shots of Haldol and Depakote, so he's jittery and trembly and dopey and mad. Now go ahead and deal. Oh, yes, and his things were once again thrown out, EVERYTHING gone. I ask you, for 8 invitations for lunch, this guy got drugged to the gills, locked up for two weeks and suffered the loss of all his stuff, I mean a clean sweep; the brother hired a company that specializes in that kind of cheap, unconditional and complete clean out of a place, apartment or garage, what have you; and only visited the apartment as the last vestiges were being removed, unaware of the $500 in cash, three typewriters, all kinds of stuff, not to mention boxes and boxes and piles and piles of books up for grabs. Seth, the librarian, has amassed at least three libraries that I know of. And is going for #4 as I write.

At any rate, the hospital was going to keep Seth for expressing anger over this abrupt and total loss. I was at the meeting where the outburst took place, argued with the doctor there and his brother Peter who was also present about the appropriateness of his treatment. The doctor, after only three challenges left the room in a huff, but Seth was not permitted any "temperment" over his recent brutalization. So when Seth asked me to defend him, I did, told the nurse who answered my call to the ward that I witnessed Seth's outburst, felt it to be completely appropriate and that I intended to make Seth's case as public as I could. The nurse gasped and asked me what I meant, to which I reiterated that I would make his story public.

Before my call, Seth's projected stay was to have been weeks if not months, but after the threat of publicity, they let him out the day after his original release date, the second legal day of releasetwo weeks after his initial arrest. The threat of publicity would never have reversed a serious medical judgement. Why should public scrutiny be a problem? Are you making responsible decisions or not, if not why not? Are you doing him any good, or not? If not why not?

Three weeks later Seth was arrested again for writing his old friend Rabbi James Ponet three letters to ask for his approval so that he could attend high holy day ceremonies at Battel Chapel its being on Yale property. He got nervous after sending the third letter and thought he should let the police know he was contacting Ponet, though he wrote to him at his residence. Thought that was part of his contract. The police came over immediately, put Seth in a headlock and took him out of the building in handcuffs. Ponet never said a word, though I wrote to him at his office at the Slifka Center on my way to see Seth in the ER. The ban on calls apparently included letters to, who knew? I guess it could have been obvious, that he hasd to avoid everythiing Yale, but Seth has lived in New Haven all his life, Yale was his favorite place from an early age, to be bereft for the reasons that he was just doesn't sit at all well. The high holy services at Battel Chapel were a favorite and though Ponet wasn't his favorite person, he seemed a possible way back in, possibly generous enough to see the injustices, but they never connected. More hearings and his brother was once again called. This time I was ready, went to these hearings and spoke first to a wary, then confident Dr. Robert Millstein, finally making an appearance. They, Judge Keyes and Dr. Millstein, had become inured to all posibility of equanimity, they were humiliating and domineering, two ingredients garranteed to produce alot of resistance, dispair, and aggitation. Proceeding cruelly, though the charge didn't warrant it, about the dillusional infatuation with Dr. Spangler, nothing about the requests to attend Battel Chapel for Roshashana and Yom Kippur, nothing about the fact that Rabbi Ponet hadn't complained at all, the small number of letters, their profunctory and nonpersonal nature, or that Seth had turned himself in. At the drug hearing I said that not everybody was going to be a good little nobody for them, that Seth's behavior wasn't improved by the drugs, then pleaded with them to lower their usual clobbering, that I would like to meet Seth someday; but Millstein was smiling by then and out of reach, though the dosage may have been alittle lower. I'm an artist-mystic-activist..organic gardener, I will do my best to defend my friends and those in dire need but to this icon of academic accomplishment I am so not the person he would trust to inform him of the error of his ways.

The staff this time was unpleasant, Seth was called crude names and treated derisively. I, too, was, as in August, treated as though I was somehow dillusional for believing my friend deserved better, my respect for Seth as evidence of my own psychosis or what have you.

The place itself has gone through an overhaul it needs to be said here. In 1992, the hospital allowed long visiting hours during the day during the week, had carpeting on the floor and nice pictures on the walls; the patients were calmer, there was atleast an expectation of nurturing and gentle treatment. But no more. In 15 years, the place has developed a prison like quality, gray or neutral colors dominate, as in the linoleum, formica and paint; only one tv exsists now under the gaze of the nurses station per ward; patient telphones are turned off until after group therapy at noon, patients themselves wandering guardedly some with evidence of violent physical intervention.

Once again as in August, I had to threaten them to get him out. I enlisted the help of a group I was made aware of through a friend, CCHR, Citizens Commission for Human Rights, an organization originated by scientologists, excellent allies by the way, tough, devoted and smart . They are, it appears going full tilt against the psychiatric drug stasis version of therapy most doctors like to apply now. No more paying attention to emotional signals, no more sensitivity to why people might be troubled, how they might alleviate some stress for those under their care, not really, just take your meds and report to the office for further scrutinization. It appears that at least among the psychiatrists I observed they don't really like their patients, are bored by their annoying behavior, impatient with their lack of insight and odd needs. And the drugs are extremely unhealthy, can kill in a number of unpleasant ways.

For further balast, I called the New York Times and a local paper, who didn't want to cover us, but it was all enough to stop the drive to have Seth put away for an extended stay, from 20 years to life was the intended term, but with my continued threats of exposure, Seth was released only three and a half weeks after admission. Once again a very suspicious about- face.

Lately another strange series of events happened. Seth discovered a letter from Martha Highsmith, deputy secretary of Yale, sent in August saying that Seth may not call anyone at Yale, omitting the possibility of letters, and listing her number for him to call with questions. So from my phone, on a day he was at my house for lunch, he called her office to discuss the matter, which replied that she was away and would get back to him, at which he hung up to await a response. A few minutes later, the phone rang, I answered a policeman on the line to whom I complained bitterly. I don't like being called by the police; I had a copy of the letter in my hand encouraging Seth to call and read the phone number from the page. This officer sounded amused and reiterated about unwanted phone calls, so I gave up, signed off and called Highsmith's office myself whereupon a secretary said that she only followed protocal. We were nonplussed. Several weeks later, we had a meeting with the judge to try and see if he couldn't have the drug dosages lessened, as CMHC, Connecticut Mental Health Center, where Seth receives his usual treatment, had doubled his drugs for no apparent reason some weeks before. Judge John Keyes, now peaked after the series of appearances for non crimes over the years, pointed his finger at Seth and then me and said that we shouldn't bother Yale, that neither he nor Seth nor I could change anyone at Yale. Now, why was I included in that tirade? It felt like he knew I had contacted Highsmith. It might have been due to my threats of publicity and continued defense of my friend, but I sensed something else, that I too should watch out for customized legal strategies for unwanted pests.

More recently we had a hearing where Seth requested I become his conservator. There I listed the terrible side effects of the drugs Seth takes: confused and unwanted thoughts, jitteriness, restlessness, frequent urination, kidney and liver damage, about which his brother announced that he was aware. I said in the hearing that psychiatry is the study of the mind, such an amorphous area, that it was easy to mess around; that if Seth was suffering from a more physical ailment he would be in dire trouble if not dead, and hesitated at the thought that a law suit might be in order if it weren't for his family's utter lack of concern. The determination from that hearing has yet to be delivered, a good sign if I thought the judge had any real moral courage left at this point, but I believe these doctors and Yale officers are threatening to him also.***

I have lived in New Haven since 1984 and have had a fair amount of dealings with Yale. My brother went there, graduated in 1966. I loved it then, had alot of deep respect for the great universities. But over the years, I've watched Yale become a brutal place. My initial statement to defend him during his August arrest but never used as I missed the hearings for that hospitalization described Dr. Spangler as spoiled and callous and that she had enlisted the police and psychiatrists to fend off someone she found unpleasant. I haven't done the research, but wonder if there is evidence of a longterm collaboration between the officers at Yale, the police, and the psychiatrists showing the emergence of the humorless, cold tactics that are wracking my town. Yale University is the incubator for many of our presidents, senators, statesmen, reporters, experts in many so fields, shouldn't its officers be the most adept at handling delicate situations, shouldn't they have the wit or grace to deal with someone so harmless and well meaning as my friend? Seth may be unconventional, but he is eminently manageable, tell him to give you space and he will. Did he not call and turn himself in for writing to Rabbi Ponet? It seems these powerful people want to set the example for the world to approve the involvement of armed men to deal with such innocent acts as invitations for lunch and requests for approval to attend holy services. Personally, I see this as more evidence of what is most seriously wrong with our species.

Where are the benefits of the observations of Dr. R. D. Liang? Where is the progress toward real healing for those in emotional turmoil? No, the doctors at Yale are being used and willingly so to subdue and contain those the Yale community doesn't have the imagination to cope with. Their casualties are everywhere.

***The judge once again found in favor of the doctors and the brother who has never once sought treament other than that provided byYale which does nothing but drug and insult Seth and dismiss those who want him treated with respect and consideration. This judge whom I like as a person but not as a reflector or observer of the world he oversees is just not considering the picture from the point of view of the most vulnerable people he represents, not protecting those he is chosen to protect, not taking the steps he needs to to improve the care of those he is there to defend. In other words, this nice guy is doing nothing but letting the beaurocrats have their way. This nice man will not put his finger in the dike. It's up to you and me to come to their aid now. Yale really didn't have to involve the "men with guns" to deal with Seth. If you don't agree, then let me play you one of my phone messages from him; get ready for a very sweet voice saying something so complimentary. Scared?

I am hopeful that this blog will begin the transitional process away from this kind of brutalization, turn around this trend of dominance and control to treat our emotionally troubled. Please help persuade Yale to deal more fairly with such as my friend Seth Lerner, they both need and deserve it.

At the start

Today starts the beginning of a long portrait, the protrait of the world as I see and know it. I hope I can maintain the intuitive and honest point of view I intend.