Leaving the Wilderness of Politics for the Hearth of Community
Citizenship has its uses, but it becomes hollow without a purpose guided by life and relationship
Instead of resigning ourselves to cliches like, ‘It is what it is,’ let us explore the reverse: ‘It isn’t what it isn’t.” — Zeus Yiamouyiannis, thoughts in early morning
I apologize for wandering in the wilderness for these past few months. For those who support me on Citizen Zeus, I am deeply grateful, and I will make sure that the insights I have gathered on my sojourn in the wilderness will bear fruit for you abundantly now and into the future. As a human race we are emerging into a summer of discontent, change, and transformed vision, and it behooves us to remove ourselves for a time to allow this zeitgeist (“spirit of the age”) to work on us and issue new sprouts and fruits. That is what I have done, and I intend to share those sprouts and fruits far more frequently going forward. Again, thanks for bearing with me. For those who miss my insights and are spiritually inclined, I have also done significant writing on another Substack called Spiritually Confident, so check that out if you are curious.
Am I done with politics? Not entirely. I believe I am simply done with my illusions that politics ultimately accomplish anything other than treading water while the worst in human nature fights it out. I have seen Bernie Sanders, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, and Robert F Kennedy, Jr. go in with an idealism and energy for populist, progressive change and simply get ground up by the system through fateful compromises that make it impossible for them to be taken seriously as agents of the people. (I am purposely leaving off the Madison Avenue created and cynical faker Barack Obama; he never had any genuine idealism to begin with.)
So I return to community. It was the focus of my book, Transforming Economy: From Corrupted Capitalism to Connected Communities. I am glad to be home. I moved back a year and a half ago to my childhood growing-up area of central Ohio, in the good ole U.S. of A. Ohio’s midwestern pragmatism, moderation, and optimism has provide a nice grounding to go along with a wonderful, loving, and down-to-earth aging mom. I am now fortunate to visit her almost daily on my long circuit through the paths of the Whetstone Park, where I also stop along the way to give a few eager dogs a quick back scratch and massage. Columbus, Ohio has become a truly international city, with an influx of Africans, Asians, and Hispanics that have transformed the white-dominated, “cowtown” of my youth to a bustling and far more vibrant United Nations of mixed cultures.
I departed from California, where the politics had gotten so thick with trivial, abstract ideological nonsense (woke-this, gender-that, and no money for people who are really struggling). I arrived almost as a kind of emigrant myself, a single dad of a enterprising 16-year old son, soon to be divorced, and needing to re-establish communal bonds as well as reconstitute an educational counseling and tutoring business from the ground up… that and healing, LOTS of healing. But the results have been profound. I have been honed, and my focus is where it needs to be— as a father, a son, a community and church member, a small business owner, and a spirit that is freed to do my higher purposes. I am grateful yet again.
I am led to remember my past that brought me into populist politics, democratic education, and a commitment to vital citizenship. It’s not the form and “intention” but the substance and results that count. My manifold, proven active concern and advocacy for marginalized and poor people will NOT been coopted into stage props and symbols to support the abstract and artificial political correctness of a professional managerial class (PCM) that is neither professional nor effectively managerial nor able to conduct itself with any class. I dream of perhaps starting an un-school that teaches truly, positive, inclusive, critically-minded, creative, and communal social change, instead of the privileged out-of-touch garbage that stands in for social justice these days.
It was here that I campaigned door-to-door for my father’s state senate campaign (“Yiamouyiannis is honest”) when I was 9 years old. He did relatively well against an entrenched incumbent, but lost nonetheless. It was worth the effort. Many lights of the consumer health movement visited our organic farm, just north of Columbus, to share activist strategies and hopes. We were members of a local food co-op right next to Ohio State University. This must have made an impression on my sister, Portia, who now owns and operates a vegan, gluten-free cafe called Portia’s Cafe, as well as a natural foods store.
It was also in Columbus where I decided to pursue my love of learning and my commitment to “learn to transform” and to critically challenge ideological nonsense on both the left and the right. Publicly declaring on social media that “my body, my choice” extends to Covid injections (i.e. no medical mandates) AND calling out the Palestinian genocide has apparently cast me out of the professional managerial Left AND Right. After an enthusiastic interview to teach a low-paying class on ethics in a local nursing college (in which they expressed they were interested in a long-term relationship, because people kept leaving), I was oddly no longer needed. I just see it as spirit holding a space for me to be unapologetically and ethically “me” without needing to gild or prune my integrity and my authenticity.
I still remain an advocate for the poor and disadvantaged, even as a call out the “astroturf” (fake grass roots) efforts of coopted idealism (i.e. the patriarchy 2.0 inclusion of biological men in women’s sports under the rubric of “trans rights” and the medical disfigurement and exploitation of children under the same alleged concern). In a world driven by identity, I am willing to suffer the “slings and arrows” of authenticity. You will see the lineage if you go back through the original articles I have posted on this Substack, Citizen Zeus.
Yet, hope springs. The world is changing. The “global South” is successfully resisting the bullying of the imperial global North (read global oligarchs) in Palestine and around the world. People here in America are beginning to to develop bonds across ideological lines as Marxist and a Make America Great Again audience members embrace on a live Jimmy Dore Show. REAL grass roots is beginning to triumph over fake grass roots as farmers protest draconian crackdowns on their livelihood in Europe. Truckers non-violently disobeyed in the Canadian capital of Ottawa to challenge unwarranted vaccine mandates and anti-democratic, oppressive “emergency measure” powers. People are broadly waking up to the astroturf cooptation of environmentalism, health, and economy to benefit billionaires at the expense of families, farms, and communities and REAL disadvantaged people (vs. six-figure salaried managers pretending to care for suffering people).
I am beginning to find the “little girl lost” that William Blake speaks in his Songs of Innocence and Experience— that vulnerable, spiritual part of myself lost in the forests of politics, worldly accomplishment, and economic power. NOW that vulnerable, youthful, sensitive, and receptive essence has ripened with wisdom and confidence through the trials and mistakes of my life and the challenges and injustices of the world. May she be blessed in me and grow to her full bloom, providing the fruits of a faith. May she call me back to the roots of my soul with branches reaching to the skies, laden with gratitude. May she bow with respect for this journey.
Blake issues a fitting benediction and theme from “Little Girl Found.”
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.
Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,
Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.
They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.
On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.
'Follow me,' he said;
'Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.'
Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion's growl.
Blessings to you all on your journeys. May you find the fearsome lion of life and change to be a creative provider and loving protector.
Best, Zeus
It's good to have you back!! Going back home is a wonderful thing! Your substack is a blessing to me. We are of like minds, and your intelligence and compassion is refreshing! Take care of yourself!!