Branches of the Same Tree

“Wit lies in recognizing the resemblance among things which differ and the difference between things which are alike.” Madame de Stael

When I was fourteen years old my parents had the idea that I might feel more connected to my Jewish heritage if they scraped together their hard earned cash and sent me to live on a kibbutz in Israel for a summer. My parents were concerned because I didn’t seem to be identifying with Judaism in any meaningful way. It was just a fact to me, like being White or Black or Indian or Asian.

I was thrilled by the idea of going to live on a kibbutz for a summer. Not having anything to do with getting in touch with Judaism; I just liked the whole idea of the communal thing. I imagined myself waking in the morning to coffee, with cream freshly milked from a cow, and food stuff, (figs and nuts and apples and olives), grown and raised on the kibbutz; all lovingly served on rustic wooden tables, in tiled floor kitchens, with holy land sunlight streaming through the window, over looking a beautiful orchard.

Going to live on a kibbutz for the summer required an interview with the head of the Zionist organization that sponsored the program; this is the question that barred me entrance, “How do you feel about inter-religious marriage?”

I was stunned.  I was fourteen. Who has a definitive opinion about something like that at the age of fourteen? I couldn’t figure out how that was any of his business. What’s that got to do with figs, and nuts, and communally living in harmony with nature? I found myself racking my brain for the “right” answer all the while knowing, somewhere deep down inside that the “right” answer, was the truth (whatever that truth may be).

As you might have surmised at this juncture, I wasn’t the most sophisticated thinker at the age of fourteen. So, I told him, “If two people love each other, I don’t see why it should matter what religion they are”. Bong! Wrong Answer!

So it would seem, the chosen people would not be choosing me to “represent”. I’m pretty sure this was the first time in my life that I began to identify and ponder the notion that I was a blood descendant of Jesus, who (like me), was Jewish and (like me) was not inclined to provide the “right” answers just to gain the favor and privilege of the powerful rabbi’s and Romans of his day.

My first experience with antisemitism was when I was 8 years old. We had these neighbors who would generously invite me to join them and their children on some summer afternoons; and they would take us to The Yacht Club. I loved the Yacht Club. It was like heaven to me. The water from the Long Island sound was filtered (unlike the public beach my family belonged to) so there was no yucky seaweed or jellyfish. And you never had to bring towels, or beach chairs or anything. It was all there and best of all, they had Magic Waiters!

These magic waiters would come to you, as you sat on a chaise lounge, dripping on your clean, white towel and you could order a soda and when he/she arrived back with your ice cold beverage all you had to do was sign this little slip of paper and magically it was yours. There was no asking your Mom for money, or waiting in lines, jumping up and down on the hot concrete  because you forgot to wear your flip-flops.

I begged my parents relentless to join the Yacht Club and they would always reply, “We can’t join the Yacht Club we’re Jewish”. I always thought it was some kind of excuse. And then one day, it happened. I was playing with my friends in the water there and another friend, that I went to school with, slid down the slide, jump up out of the water and [without an ounce of malice] said, “Stefanie! What are you doing here? I thought you were Jewish?”

I was mortified.  When something like that happens you feel really stupid. Did I really think I, and my family, would be privy to that kind of opulence? To suddenly realize what my parents had been saying; that there were places we weren’t welcome and didn’t belong. I had never really understood there was any major difference between us (Christians, Jews, Black or White) because I didn’t make those kinds of distinction. Apparently, the world did and I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

There was a box I belonged in. My parents kept telling me about this box but I didn’t understand. I can honestly say, when that happened it was my first realization that no matter  how I defined myself, no matter what I did, or who I became, there was a box that other people would put me in. The box was mine whether I claimed it or not.

For most of my life I just ignored the box, mostly because the whole notion of the box just pissed me off. I wasn’t concerned with heritage, or religion, or history, or anything that had the power to define me. I simply didn’t want to be tied to anything or anyone that could tell me who I was without my consent.

Then again, there’s that history,  millions of Jews, going back thousands of years. My blood, my relatives, my ancestors, who when faced with slavery, pogroms, oppression, discrimination, antisemitism, and ultimately the horror of systematic extermination; (all of whom, no matter how they defined themselves), were met with the same gruesome fate; simply by the truth of their blood.

When it comes to shit like that, no one cares how you define yourself. Myself, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Ann Frank, Albert Einstein, Emma Goldman, Eli Wiesel, Jerry Jeff Walker, Kinky Friedman, Natalie Portman, Mother Mary and Jesus [himself] would have all be on the same train, headed to the same place; and nothing we had ever done, would have distinguished us or saved us; which makes the question of how one defines oneself almost ludicrous in that context.

Nevertheless, as the years went on and I did define myself, I didn’t think much anymore about organized religion one way or the other. It was just another fact about the world that I didn’t have much interest in. On some levels I began to believe that all these distinction, [religion, ethnicity, and nationality] are just divisive and serve to tear humanity apart rather than bring us together. But now I’m not sure I believe that anymore.

This past month for the first time ever, I decided to host a Passover Seder. I’m not really sure what inspired me. Since I haven’t been to a Passover Seder in years; and the only thing I had to go on were my memories of doing them as a child every year with my family. My friends were thrill. Of those invited only three had ever attended a Passover Seder before. The only Jew in attendance was me.

My parents were overjoyed and to help with the festivities; my father put together a “Passover care package” which arrived via UPS bless his heart! I made copies of the Seder book he sent me, and lit the Shabbat candles, and served the special Passover wine. We dipped the parsley and ate the haroset-matzo sandwiches. I struggled through the prayers in Hebrew and then repeating them in English, as I had been taught. And, as in my family, we went around the table and all my friends read the story of the exodus of the Jews from Israel.

But it was my friend’s children who intrigued me the most because they asked questions Jewish kids would never ask. Like, “Why did the Pharaoh want to kill the Jews if they were already slaves?” Jewish kids don’t ever ask why people want to kill them. Jewish kids just know that occasionally folks just take to doing it. Christian kids want a reason.

After the Seder I brought out all the traditional foods I remembered eating on Passover; Matzo ball soup, potato latkes, my friends even tried the gefilte fish with my fathers homemade horseradish (an a acquired taste at best). What moved me was how open my friends were to all of it  For the first time in my life I experienced being Jewish not as something that separated me, and alienated me, and made me different, but as something ancient I was connected to. And now I was taking that connection and connecting all these people I love, not just to this ancient ritual, but to me and to one another. I credit my friends for this realization because it was them, not I that were so embracing, accepting, and genuinely curious.

What my family doesn’t know is that whenever they would make me go to synagogue (and to this day), when I witness the unveiling of the Torah, I well up inside and it takes everything in me not to cry. I am viscerally moved and I never understood before now, why.

It’s the ancientness, the ceremony, the blood; this ritual that goes back thousands of years which perhaps is not just intended to connect us to God, or our history, or our heritage but to one another; and it doesn’t really matter if who we’re connecting to is Jewish, or Christian, or Muslim, or Hindu or Buddhist, or Naturalist, or Atheist or Agnostic. What matters is we’re connecting.

We are given a choice, we can use these things to connect and share with one another, or we can use them to divide and fracture us; but either way it’s up to us.

Next year I plan to host another Passover Seder and as  is the tradition of Passover, all will be welcome at my table.

If We Could Talk to the Animals

 “Being asked what animal you’d like to be is a trick question; you’re already an animal.” ~Doug Coupland

Behind the house I grew up in stood an enormous crabapple tree. The entire trunk of the tree was covered with woodpecker holes. It was an old, and beautiful tree, and one I remember with warm affection. I don’t know if you’ve ever eaten a crabapple but they’re not really the tastiest variety. Nevertheless, my father loved those crabapples. He relished in the fact that he could provide a home for us, with something as ‘salt of the earth’ as a fruit baring tree in our midst. To this day I can still see the joyous and humored express on his face whenever he’d eat one of those bitter little apples.

Growing up my father had a firm sense of discipline but he was never a violent man. In fact, he found violence an appalling human trait. He was a proud member of Veterans against the Vietnam War after having served as a Sergeant in the Korean War; and he was never prone to romanticized, war hero stories. When I asked him, as a child, what he remembered about fighting in Korea all he would say is, “I remember being really cold, and really scared, and as soon as they told us we could run. I’d run as fast as I could”. When my brother, (at a very young age), asked him if he had ever killed anyone in Korea his answer was, “I don’t know but I hope not”.

At the same time he seemed to possess the [often male] human trait of territory; in particular he possessed this trait over our crab-apple tree. For some reason it just unnerved him that the squirrels would run through that tree and eat those apples. Never mind that no one was really interested in eating them besides him. That wasn’t the point, the point (as far as I could tell), was they were his apples and squirrels had no business infringing on his ‘property’.

I was always confounded by this, since I could never understand what the problem was with sharing the apples. It just seemed senseless, and it was obvious he had no intention of killing them, (it wasn’t even a real gun); he just wanted to scare them.

I myself, relished in the squirrels revenge because often times, when my father lounged in the chaise lounge underneath the crab-apple tree, he’d get hit (usually in the head), with half eaten crabapples tossed on him by the squirrels. I had visions of them, ‘cartoon-chipmunks style’, laughing and high fiving one another up in that tree, upon a direct hit.

My father’s frustration over the squirrels was something of a comedy for the entire family.  When we’d chide him about it he’d proclaim, “They’re just rats with bushy tales”. But my father’s frustration, as harmless as it may have been, also revealed something to me about human nature; sometime we assert power over things simply because we can; and the more powerless we feel the more careless we may become in asserting that power.

Recently, I was invited to a songwriters gathering in a place called Regency, TX. Regency, TX is a place I imagine most Austinites don’t venture to too often. It’s that part of Texas where legends are made and I’m not talking about musical legends. I’m talking take care of my own, mind your own business, shoot first and ask questions later, sorry sheriff we didn’t mean to kill him, kind of legends. It is also home to the last, working, wooden suspension bridge in the country. You’ll find that bridge at the end of a gravel road. If you do venture there, when you drive over the bridges’ one lane, and feel the wooden planks accosting your shocks, you will fear that yours will be the car that finally breaks it.

The songwriter’s gathering I went to was classic Texas, beers flowing, bon fire burning, and a great song circle going till the wee hours. I spent the night and the next morning I was sitting with one of my fellow gathers.

The bonfire was still smoldering from the night before, the birds were singing and we were enjoying the genuine peace of the place. Suddenly, we heard gun shots; gun shots that rang out through the hills, and the forests, and the ranches. Every ten to fifteen minutes there’d be two or three more shots; too many for it to be hunters and not frequent enough to be target practice. It was unnerving and both of us were jolted each time by the sound.

I’ve got no problem with real hunters. I’ve never known a real hunter that didn’t respect the power of his/her weapon and I’ve never seen one shoot recklessly. Real hunting is a skill and (dare I say), an honorable pursuit. But shooting up your gun on a Sunday morning for no reason what so ever, is just plain stupid.That kind of behavior makes me embarrassed for my species. I want to turn to all the animals and say, “Really, I’m sorry.”

Something I’ve never fully understood about human beings is how; we as a species elevate ourselves over other living creatures. I’ve always taken the “different but equal” approach; mostly because I don’t presume to know the purpose of all these things.

The other thing, (which I view as a cautionary tale), is that every time we look at human history and recognize where, and when, any human beings, have believed the assertion of superiority over other human beings, there are devastating consequences. Which begs the question, of some day looking back at our contemporary belief of superiority over other animals (and our resulting practices) with chilling shame?

I’m not referring to meat eating verses vegetarian or the politics of fur. I see no problem with human beings asserting dominance, for survival purposes; and I believe within nature there is a thing called the food chain. No one ever said life was fair but dominance, from a survival perspective is different from the assertion of superiority.

Perhaps, what distinguishes us from other creatures in not our cognitive abilities, nor our ‘personalities’ but the possession of an ego. According to the first testament of the bible, God gave us dominion over other creatures.  Maybe we’re over looking how we might have integrated this religious notion of, “humans as the center of the universe, ordained by God” with our empirical process.

Ego is at the root of the human story we tell ourselves; that we are superior rather than what we really are, which is more powerful. To my mind dominion equals responsibility; which is a somewhat taller order than mere elevation. Conceivably, it’s our ego that makes us such dangerous animals.

What I also start to wonder is what are all those other creatures thinking? Our assumption that they don’t think, feel, nor have clear and definitive ‘personalities’ seems short sighted; especially, when you start looking at dolphins, whales, and elephants. All of them display our self-proclaimed superior trait of personality, (familial recognition, grief, loneliness, loyalty, attachment and affection) and self-awareness.

What if the real problem (above all else) is language? We understand our own languages and we even can recognize when other human beings are speaking a language (regardless of whether or not we can understand it) but we dismiss other species possession of language for no other reason than “we can’t understand it”. Which begs the question, how superior are we, when plausible denial is our best defense? It’s like the opposite of empiricism.

I’ve come to believe that whales and dolphins are probably more evolved than us. I realize this isn’t my most original thought. But most of the time, I think many of us may consider this notion for a moment, and then quietly dismiss it; because to actually contemplate it as a reality would unearth a torrent of real world, philosophical and moral conundrums of Herculean proportion. It would call into question literally, everything we think we know or understand.

Yet, dolphins and whales possess all the traits, (including language), we herald as distinguishing us from the natural world except one; the possession of an ego. They are also among the only wild animals on earth that go out of their way to interact with us. Which makes me wonder if that’s because they know how unrefined and dangerous we are but they also know we’re just plain ignorant. It’s as if they have a glimmer of hope, if they keep approaching us, we might begin to shut up and try to learn from them.

I wonder, if as a species, we really need to begin to think about every act of brutality, (big or small) as acts of our ego, rather than an outgrowth of human nature or our survival instincts. My wish is that one day we take a moment and  stop trying to tell our own story and just listen to the story we are being told; which, we didn’t write. I imagine if we are ever able to this it will change everything about what we do and just as importantly, what we don’t do

I’ve heard it said that a wish can only come true if you’re willing to believe in it. So, for now, I’m going to go out back to my balcony with a cup of coffee, and just listen, and see if I can figure out what story the squirrels might have to tell, if only I could understand it. 

What We Leave Behind

“Sometimes,’ said Pooh, ‘the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” ― A.A. Milne

I’ve spent the last two or three years attempting to face everything in my life that I fear. I came to the conclusion that fear is an outmoded emotion. It was very useful to us once as a species, for example when we were living in caves and encountered lions and tigers and bears. However, in contemporary terms I find fear to be an extraordinarily destructive response. It’s the thing that makes us hurt one another. It’s the thing that sometimes causes us to be hurt. It’s a voice that almost always says, “No” when in fact, we could just as easily respond, “Why the hell not?”

It’s true, that anything we fear is possible but I also believe that the majority of what we fear is unlikely. I attest this to the fact that when things do go wrong, rather than just accept the fact, point blank; and try a different way; we start projecting that failure into the future and amassing the vast quantities of future failures we might have to endure.

Never the less, we all have different responses to fear. Some folks try to control situations or people, others try to placate, some try to run away, and some try to fight and conquer.  It’s our histories and experiences that determine which one of these things we do in response to fear but none of it’s really going to work in the long run. No matter how far or fast we run, no matter who or what we control, no matter how successfully we placate, no matter how brutally we fight or conquer. In the end fear reins supreme, because if we’re doing any of those things, than we’re still answering to it.

My response to fear has always been to run. It’s one of the few things I can honestly say I’m good at. In fact, I’m so good at it, that I tend to do it even when I’m just a little uncertain; people, places, questions, if I don’t know, then I gotta go.

I grew up in the suburbs of  New York City and spent my youth hanging out in both my suburban town and the city. I was fifteen years old the first time I ever walked into a bar and ordered a whiskey sour. I drank my first beer and smoked my first joint, when I was twelve, (sorry Mom). My teenage years were littered with messed up people who had no business hanging out with a bunch of teenagers.  I’m grateful now, in retrospect, that  no one ever wound up really hurting me.

New York is an amazing place in a million ways, especially to people who come there from more restrictive environments and communities. It’s also a place I have never felt completely comfortable. It’s fast paced and gruff, everyone is always going somewhere; and there’s always money to be made; and if there’s no money to be made than you’d better explain your point, fast. It’s survival of fittest. It’s all things are permissible so long as you don’t mess with me or my shit.

There’s nothing wrong with any of that it’s just not an energy I could ever really find a place in. When you grow up in a place that doesn’t offer any tangible refuge for safety; then you either create an impenetrable fortress to protect yourself or you go looking for a place that doesn’t demand so much protection. Which is why New York is a place I’ve spent most of my adult life running from.

In the seven years since I moved to Texas I have never gone back to the Northeast to perform my music. I visited friends and family but never once played a gig there. I knew deep down inside I was afraid of something but I wasn’t sure what it was. I also wasn’t sure how much of my perception [of that area of the country] was real and how much of it was just something in me, having nothing to do with the place itself.  In light of all of that I decided to face my fear and book a gig there. I also decided I would take a visit to the area of New York I had lived in just before I moved to Texas which was the New Paltz/Woodstock area.

After I moved to Texas I had never once been back there, not even for a drive by. So, it seemed like ground zero for my fears. I made some lame attempts at booking a gig in the Woodstock area but, truth be told, I didn’t try very hard. The important thing, [I told myself] is, I’ve committed to playing there. I just tried to think of it as a paid vacation to see my family.

I arrived and spent the first night with my family and the next day I was off to ground zero [the Woodstock area]. Most of the people I had kept in touch with from that area, like me, had moved away. But I did have one friend who still had a house in the area, so I got in touch with him and we made plans to have dinner.

As I got off the New York State Thruway and approached the New Paltz exit my anxiety was palpable. I began to drive down the Main Street of New Paltz and it was as if nothing had changed. I could identify only one new building, that was for lease and a restaurant that had relocated. Otherwise, it was exactly how I had left it almost a decade ago. The anxiety in me began to transmute into something else.

I began to get that creepy feeling, like when you’re watching a movie and the main character is walking through a town where everything is in place, and appears normal, but you know something underlying is really wrong.  What was I doing there? What was I looking for? Why had I transported myself back in time, to a place I didn’t want to be and no longer belonged? I decided to stop at a liquor store for two reasons. I really needed to pee and I began to think I might really want a drink once I got to my friends house.

While everything looked exactly the same, my memory of manning the dark, windy Shawangunk Mountain roads to get to my friends house were not so keen. My GPS decided to take me on the darkest and windiest road possible. Driving on the road that leads to the Mohonk Mountain House in the pitch black felt eerie, like I was invading something that was better left alone.

Honestly, that place always gave me the creeps. I remember once going there for a Christmas dinner and having visions of Jack Nicholson, from the “The Shining”, breaking through the bathroom door with an axe, while I was struggling to get my panty-hose up.

I started asking myself strange questions, like “Why didn’t I learn how to rock climb when I lived here?”  “Why didn’t I ever want to go snow shoeing?” “Why do I hate winter sports?” “Why do I hate all sports?” Most of all, the same question kept plaguing me, “What am I doing here?”

I got to my friends house and we had dinner in place I used to go to often when I lived there; re-connecting with old friends is always such a joy that you forget, at least for a little while, whatever it is you’re looking for and just enjoy the company.

I then retired to an over-priced, cheap upstate motel. The kind of cheap motel that still has a real key lock and you’re told is “non-smoking” but has the stench of fifty years of cigarette smoke embedding in the carpet. You can feel the solitude of decades of truck drivers, and the desperation of white trash, extra-marital affairs, soaked into the 1970’s wood paneling. Alone in that skanky room the question loomed even larger, “What am I doing here?”

The next morning I woke, got dressed and headed into town to get a cup of coffee at the Starbucks before heading to my gig. I had memories of bringing my knitting, or a book, to that Starbucks when I lived there. It felt like I was walking into the living room of an old house I used to live in. The furniture’s the same but you don’t know the people who live there and somehow you feel clumpy and out of place no matter what you can recollect or how familiar the setting.  It was a busy Saturday morning. I approached the counter and the barrister said, “What do you want?”

One thing I’ve learned about that area of that country is, conversational pleasantries, (particularly with people in the service industries), are usually received as confrontations. Ordinarily, I’d ask how the barrister was doing or at lease say “Hi”. I decided this was probably a bad idea. So I order my coffee and sat down, deciding to make a set list for the evenings gig.

I rarely create strict set lists anymore but I was informed that my audience was not overly receptive to original material. In fact, they were especially fond of “sing-a-long’s” [which I don’t do] and it was to be, [on no uncertain terms], a “family friendly” show; which obviously ruled out my song “Holy Shit Ma”. I was fine with that but I draw the line at sing-a-long’s.

The only person I’ve ever seen pull off a sing-a-long without it seeming like some cheap appeal is Pete Seeger, mostly because I’m pretty sure the guy genuinely loves getting people involved (even if, just for a song). The man’s a master, but I’ve never had much interest in rallying folks and even less interest in being rallied; so it’s not something I can do without feeling like a kindergarten teacher.

I got to my gig and much to my surprise, it was a wonderful night. The audience was warm, and receptive, and friendly. The folks from the Art’s Center I performed at told me, there were a bunch of new people, (they had never seen before), who came to see the show. I imagine the novelty of some obscure, singer-songwriter from Austin, Texas coming to a small Upstate New York town, (for no apparent reason), was enough, just for a look-see.  I had, had some trepidation about how I would be received but everyone I encountered (with the exception of the barrister at Starbucks) was really nice. Which made the question loom even larger; what was I doing there? What was I afraid of?

I got back to Austin and had that familiar feeling of relief. I was home. It took me a little time but I think I figured it out. I needed to know if I had run from that place, or if I had run from myself, and my life; and that was just the place I happened to be when I decided to cross the starting line. I’m pretty sure it was a little of both. I realize now, I needed to go back there because I never said goodbye.

I’m a runner. Saying goodbye does not come naturally to me. But now, I’m beginning to understand that running is not an answer; it only alleviates a symptom and you’re really no less afraid once you’ve done it. Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things we sometimes have to do; which may be why it’s also one of the most important. I’m not sorry I left that area of the country. It’s not really where I belong. I think I just needed to go back there, own[ing] myself and my choices and finally say, Goodbye.

Free Download! Happy Holidays!

Happy First Day of Winter!

I just wanted to take a moment to wish you all a Happy Holiday!

Here’s a free mp3 download of a song that’s never been released called “Merry Christmas Darling”.

It’s my way of thanking you for all the support and encouragement you’ve given me throughout the year! This is a solo/acoustic demo version, since this songs never been officially released and I only wrote it in the past year.

Here’s the link to go get your free download http://stefaniefix.com/#/happy-holidays/4558626308

Don’t worry, you don’t have to enter anything, just go to my site, click it and grab it! Of course, If you like the song, add yourself to my mailing list!

By the way, don’t let the title of the song fool you…think, more Joni Mitchell’s “River” rather than James Pierpont’s “Jingle Bells”

As we approach the new year, imagine if you could get ALL my music this way ALL the time! That dream could be a reality.

All you have to do is become a patron because that’s how patronism.com works.

It will enable me to give you ALL of my music ALL the time. Just as beautifully it would give me more time to focus on and ultimately make more music for you!

I do hope you’ll consider becoming a patron this year. It would mean the world to me. Find more info at www.patronism.com/StefanieFix

Looking forward to seeing, sharing and connecting with you in the coming year!

Have a Safe, Wonderful, Healthy, Happy, Holiday!

All the Best,

~Stefanie Fix

Official Launch and Invitation to Patronism.com

I’m so honored and excited to share with you that I have just officially launched on patronism.com!

What is Patronism? It is a fabulous Pay-What-You-Like Subscription site where you get access to my entire catalog of music, plus unreleased material, demos, videos, and all kinds of fabulous stuff. I will constantly be adding things to my Patronism profile.

If you become a patron between now and Christmas Day  I’ll autograph any 2 CD’s of your choice and send them to you (just e-mail me your address)…they make great stocking stuffers or Hanukkah gifts and you’ll still have access to my entire catalog! It’s like the gift that just keeps on giving, nothing says LOVE like music!

Go to: www.Patronism.com/StefanieFix and become a patron. I would LOVE for you to get involved, and it helps me to be able to continue to create music and tour, as well as so many other things!

THANK YOU!

Stefanie Fix

Invitation to Join Me on Patronism.com

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because it is both a time to contemplate what we have to be grateful for and to think about how we might all contribute to making the world a better place.

In my last blog I told you I was going to introduce you to a website called www.patronism.com  it’s a new economic model for the music business. This “new” model is actually just a modern take on the oldest form of arts funding – Patronage.  But instead of being an emperor or pope, you simply pay what you feel, and the miracle of modern subscription technology will make it easier for me to make more music for you to enjoy. It’s more of a gift exchange than a merchandise sale – chip in what you can, and I’ll give you all I’ve got.

This isn’t a call for you to “donate” to a worthy cause or order a subscription.  This is an invitation for you to participate and become part of something that will not only move things immediately to a more equitable plane between us, but eventually will change everything about how our children are going to be able to thrive as artists, musicians, painters, poets and novelists in future generations.

I’ve said before I believe we have the power to change the world by restructuring communities one little model at a time. Arts and music shape our culture and reflect our values and our beliefs. You have the power to support artists and musicians who you believe serve a valuable contribution to the world. I constantly strive to be one of them for you.

I’m going to officially launch my site on www.patronism.com/StefanieFix  on Thursday, December 8, 2011 and I’d like you to be a part of it. You also have the exclusive option of becoming a patron right now before the official launch date. All you have to do is click on the link www.patronism.com/StefanieFix  and sign up. My wish is that we be the change in the world we’d like to see.  Here’s our chance!  Let’s do this thing!

 

Thank you for all your support, your encouragement and for being a part of my life. Thank you most of all for letting me be a part of yours!

 

Have a happy, healthy holiday!

 

All the Best to you and yours,

 

Stefanie Fix

This Land is Your Land

“Greed is the inventor of injustice as well as the current enforcer”. -Julian Casablancas

 The other day a friend of mine was telling me about the Rainbow Children.  At any other time in my life I would have dismissed this Pollyanna, feel good theory as nothing short of ridiculous. Who on earth doesn’t want to believe that the children they are bringing into this world, will be enlightened enough to overcome the shit pile we’ve handed them? I’ve never been overly fond of, nor particularly persuaded by New Age anecdotes that proclaim someone, or something outside of us is going to [somehow] save us or humanity from itself. And yet, I do believe in the notion of fate or destiny. So, I found it interesting that I was hearing about these ‘Rainbow Children’ for the first time just as the Occupy Wall Street movement is taking hold.

This was coupled with another interesting coincidence; which is that I’m about to launch on a new web site [so new in fact, it’s still in Beta] called www.Patronism.com . It is my belief that Patronism.com is the economic model of the future, not only for music but for all the arts. It is a model that redefines how capitalism can work.

As I write this the Occupy Wall Street demonstrations have been taking place since September. This movement is asking, (albeit, demanding), something that is complex, and difficult to define in precise terms; and yet what they want is crystal clear to all of us; not only here in the United States but on every Continent in the world. They are acknowledging a deeper truth than “who is right” or “who is wrong” or even “what you tell us is possible”, they are asking us to demand that our leaders and governments not just be right, but act in a morally correct manner; asking politicians and our government to create policies that speak to our humanity rather than our global economic dominance.

To all the older generations out there, demonstrating and supporting this movement, more power to you! Movements like this need to be supported by all of us if change is possible; and they are going to need our help. But it is our young people, who ultimately, will have to grab the mantel and propel us forward, shaping and creating a new future for all of us.  When I look at this new, younger generation I am so proud and heartened by their confidence, their courage, their insight, and their deep intelligence.

I keep reading stories in mainstream media about how the demonstrators want a chance at the ‘American Dream’. Maybe, but I don’t see it that way. I think they want the myth of the ‘American Dream’ to finally be dissolved and a new American Dream erected. I don’t think they’re interested in houses, or cars, or front lawns, or pensions. I think they’re interested in shifting the paradigm and creating a world where all of us feel safe, and at the same time have the opportunity to pursue our dreams. Most importantly, I think they want the ‘American Dream’ to include our responsibility to take care of one another and the planet. It’s clear our country is wealthy enough to afford all of this but our leaders, lack the courage, vision and imagination to address these goals and the current structure of the economy isn’t constructed to foster these goals.

Right now (and for my entire life) the goals of all U.S. policy, (domestic and international) has been about profit and power.  Profit at the cost of decent, affordable education; profit at the cost of our physical and mental health; profit at the cost of destroying our environment; profit at the cost of independent farmers not being allowed to farm what they want; profit at the cost of feeding our families healthful foods; profit at the cost of incarcerating [domestically] an unprecedented number of young people, rather than offer them genuine opportunities; profit at the cost of violence upon innocent people in other nations; profit at the cost of thousands of our solders dying on the front lines; profit at the cost of thousands of other [of our] solders chronically wounded, both mentally and physically; profit at the cost of simple, human decency. The worst part of it is, almost none of that profit is landing in the hands of most Americans. That’s the 99%. (Though, I don’t believe any of us are interested in profiting from that kind of blood money). I think they are demanding we re-examine and re-define what success, profit, and responsibility mean.

I believe this is why there are “no demands” from the demonstrators. To make policy demands would only serve to re-engage and acknowledge legitimacy to a system that is, at its core, disconnected from our best interest; both as human beings and as a nation. The problems of our current political process, and the structure of our economy are systemic; they have evolved to a place where leaders can no longer, or are no longer willing, to answer to a higher good. Our political leaders and mass media take pains to control the dialogue and define the parameters of every discussion; least we ask a question that can’t be answered in 2 sentences; or we have to consider and think about the complexities of a given issue for more than 10 seconds before drawing a conclusion.

The majority of mainstream media doesn’t even know how to begin to articulate what is churning down at these demonstrations. They want clear, definable strictures that can easily be conveyed in the context of a political landscape [the architecture of which] they are inexplicably linked to; and perhaps,  just a little too comfortable with. More importantly, they don’t seem to know how, or are unwilling to approach a political geography that they may not understand yet.  Mass media has never really known what to do with abstract, conceptual ideas that speak to tangible realities.

This is why when we start to talk about Universal Health Care for example, we are instantly redirected to a discussion about socialism, or freedom, or obligation verses our rights; which have nothing to do with the question we are really asking. The real question, is, “What can we do to make sure every American feels safe? “What can we do to ensure that when we, or our loved ones, get sick they can see a doctor and be treated for an illness?” We don’t hesitate to ask that type of question when we talk about spending billions of dollars on homeland security. Then again, Homeland Security is a new, burgeoning, profitable industry unto itself. Too many corporate interests have too much to lose, to let us have a more honest and humane discussion about health care in this country. And make no mistake, our policies on health care are nothing short of inhumane.

Of course, those who allow themselves to be led away from the real or deeper questions (for example Tea Partiers) do so because they themselves are terrified. They’ve been taught to believe that we’re all on our own out here. Their survival mechanism kicks in, and they fear if they give up what little they have worked hard for, and earned, they’ll be left with nothing. Given how corrupt and ineffectual our current policies have been for the past fifty years they’re probably right (we are on our own); which is why the paradigm needs to be shifted. No one in this country should be so terrified of poverty, homelessness and catastrophic illness that they forgo they’re own humanity to gain a false sense of security by denying it to others.

Ultimately, what’s so enraging about the Wall Street Bailouts is that all that money, our money, is going toward [sustaining] an economic system that holds us and our well being in contempt. It’s as if our political leaders, bankers, investors and corporations, brought us to the brink of collapse and in the midst of panicked, damage control, took all our money to help keep us, just a little further at bay.

There is much to be discussed, debated, agreed and disagreed upon in the coming years. I believe with every core of my being we have the capacity, strength, courage and imagination to reclaim the wealth and dignity of our country and redirect it; so that all of us feel safe, have the opportunity to enjoy freedom and pursue our dreams. I also think it’s important we don’t expect massive, sweeping, overhauled, national legislation to do this for us. The kinds of changes needed are going to have to begin at the roots of our communities (since all things grow from the roots up); and it’s going to take long term commitment on all our parts to ensure those foundations are solid and not corruptible.

Change will come one new model at a time which is why I also found it an interesting coincidence that a new music business model like www.Patronism.com is emerging right now. It’s a perfect example of how we all can begin to look at the current models, within our own fields of expertise, and see how they might be structured differently.  We need to abandon wholesale whatever we have been told about what is, or is not, possible. We need to think outside the box and build new boxes; one community at time. In the next few weeks I’m going to introduce you to a new model in my community (the community of artists and musicians) and I hope you’ll want to support it, become a part of it, and join us.

Since I started with a New Age premise, I’ll close with one because 2012 is just around the corner. Is it so Pollyanna a notion to hope, that perhaps, this new generation of outspoken, hopeful, idealistic, little warriors, are the Indigo Children [predicted to come before the Rainbow Children] and bring the dawn of a new age? Helping us to pave the way for a new paradigm and create a nation where we take care of one another; where we are no longer afraid to entrust our government to facilitate that care; and where we re-evaluate and redefine [one more time] who we are as Americans and who we intend to be; both to one another and to our neighbors, both near and far.

References:

http://occupywallst.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occupy_Wall_Street

http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/organizations/o/occupy_wall_street/index.html?scp=1-spot&sq=occupy%20wall%20street&st=cse

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204479504576637082965745362.html

http://www.childrenlights.com/Articles/the_children.htm

http://www.starchildren.info/rainbow.html