A fun variation on a theme, of particular interest to poetry-readers:
Using only POEM titles from ONE POET, ONE BOOK, answer these questions. Pass it on to 12 people you like. You can't use the poet I used. Do not repeat a title. Repost as "My Life According to _____________." (fill in the poet's name) **Don't forget to send it back to me!!
From Shel Silverstein's FALLING UP:
Are you a male or female?
The Voice
Describe yourself:
Writer Waiting
How do you feel:
Tell Me
Describe where you currently live:
Headless Town
If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
No Grown-Ups
Your favorite form of transportation:
Alphabalance
What's the weather like:
Red Flowers For You
Favorite time of day:
Somethin' New
Your relationships:
Poison-Tester
Your fear:
Mummy
What is the best advice you have to give:
Falling up
If you could change your name, you would change it to:
Tongue Sticker-Outer
My soul's present condition:
Folks Inside
Friday, August 28, 2009
Last updated 35 weeks ago.
Doubles, Triples, Infinities.
I envy Whitman's ability to not lose rhythm when within states of contradiction.
With time to garden but the ground too wet, with time being 12:21 pm
it's too early for any poison. So contradiction it is. Have at me. I will try to keep up.
I've noticed my reflexes have improved since I've begun playing viloin again. Not just my body, but my thoughts too. Oh, like I need those to ricochet around my head any quicker.
I think it may have something to do with being required to anticipate every next note. You have to be a mere mental step ahead of your body, but not so much so that it's noticed when the sound you produce is interpreted by the listener. Same with writing. Both, playing music and writing unite your past and present to create a future. Now there's a trinity I can live with. Such a state of one.
I envy Whitman's ability to not lose rhythm when within states of contradiction.
With time to garden but the ground too wet, with time being 12:21 pm
it's too early for any poison. So contradiction it is. Have at me. I will try to keep up.
I've noticed my reflexes have improved since I've begun playing viloin again. Not just my body, but my thoughts too. Oh, like I need those to ricochet around my head any quicker.
I think it may have something to do with being required to anticipate every next note. You have to be a mere mental step ahead of your body, but not so much so that it's noticed when the sound you produce is interpreted by the listener. Same with writing. Both, playing music and writing unite your past and present to create a future. Now there's a trinity I can live with. Such a state of one.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Keep Warm
12-25-08
Keep Warm
Let's all look at the big picture. Because I started this with one particular person in mind but suddenly my list of who I hoped would read this looked like those pictures you see of Santa with his long list of names on paper unrolling, and I realized it's meant for every one of us.
Please though, be forgiving. It's 3:49 am and although I'm mighty tired, me believing that we are here for one another's benefit is the only real hope I have -- so although this isn't as fleshed out as I'd like, I'm posting. And although I may sound preachy -- yes, no, maybe, I don't know -- believing we are here for one another's benefit is the only real faith I have.
***
Maybe it's like an addiction in that you don't give it up based on others' suggestions that you do so. "It" being a negative perception of yourself that you can't shake. "It" being that you see rejection as failure. Rejection is not failure; rejection has as much to do with the "editor" as it does with the writer. This goes for all relationships.
You don't give up the negative perception, you don't quit the self-loathing -- not because you don't want to, of course you want to believe you are beautiful/handsome AND smart AND good -- but because YOU are the only one who can make you believe it for certain. Like giving up cigarettes, or any other "substance" we know is not good for us or has control of us, we can only quit when WE decide we've had enough, and we really have to want to quit more than we want the comfort of what is killing us. We have to want to choose life, but we have to first realize that we are dying -- and that we are fully responsible for that act.
Loving yourself is like that. Once you realize that NOT loving yourself is killing you, you can learn to survive by loving yourself, but to love yourself you have to respect yourself and to respect yourself you have to demand that others respect you as well as do things that others (whom you, yourself respect) find respectable. Gah. That's an incredible amount of expectation.
If you abuse someone, that is not loving, and doing so allows them to retalitate, to disrespect you in return, with, in their mind, good reason, because you've disrespected them.
If someone abuses you and you allow it, that, too causes them to lose respect for you. So even if you are not the type of person to retaliate, if you are, instead the type of person who tolerates abuse from others, you still lose because you'll continue to be mistreated no matter how tolerant or forgiving you are. No one respects someone who doesn't respect themselves enough to command respect, at all times, from others. Even if it means being unpopular. Even if it means going "unloved" because really it does not. It means you are loving yourself by accepting no less than any other human being deserves.
If you are abused or are in an abusive relationship, whether it be with yourself or with someone else, stop it. If you can't stop it, get out. You may not have the life you thought you were going to have. That doesn't matter. You'll have a life that you cherish. You'll have a life you're happy to open your eyes for in the morning (okay, you'll have bad days too, but you get the gist). If you don't stop others from mistreating you, and believe me, mistreatment can be as subtle as snide, condescending remarks or as in-your-face as a fist, if YOU don't decide that you want happiness, you won't have it. And unhappiness will become a habit. It will begin to feel like an old familiar coat you don't want to throw out because it conforms to your body so well. You are so used to it.
Everyone will see how worn out you are, like the coat, but you won't notice until you are no longer warm.
I know, loving yourself is not as easy as buying a new coat. You've found that out by now, I'm sure. You've tried all the consolation prizes. There are none. You've discovered where the real love begins. With your own action.
Keep Warm
Let's all look at the big picture. Because I started this with one particular person in mind but suddenly my list of who I hoped would read this looked like those pictures you see of Santa with his long list of names on paper unrolling, and I realized it's meant for every one of us.
Please though, be forgiving. It's 3:49 am and although I'm mighty tired, me believing that we are here for one another's benefit is the only real hope I have -- so although this isn't as fleshed out as I'd like, I'm posting. And although I may sound preachy -- yes, no, maybe, I don't know -- believing we are here for one another's benefit is the only real faith I have.
***
Maybe it's like an addiction in that you don't give it up based on others' suggestions that you do so. "It" being a negative perception of yourself that you can't shake. "It" being that you see rejection as failure. Rejection is not failure; rejection has as much to do with the "editor" as it does with the writer. This goes for all relationships.
You don't give up the negative perception, you don't quit the self-loathing -- not because you don't want to, of course you want to believe you are beautiful/handsome AND smart AND good -- but because YOU are the only one who can make you believe it for certain. Like giving up cigarettes, or any other "substance" we know is not good for us or has control of us, we can only quit when WE decide we've had enough, and we really have to want to quit more than we want the comfort of what is killing us. We have to want to choose life, but we have to first realize that we are dying -- and that we are fully responsible for that act.
Loving yourself is like that. Once you realize that NOT loving yourself is killing you, you can learn to survive by loving yourself, but to love yourself you have to respect yourself and to respect yourself you have to demand that others respect you as well as do things that others (whom you, yourself respect) find respectable. Gah. That's an incredible amount of expectation.
If you abuse someone, that is not loving, and doing so allows them to retalitate, to disrespect you in return, with, in their mind, good reason, because you've disrespected them.
If someone abuses you and you allow it, that, too causes them to lose respect for you. So even if you are not the type of person to retaliate, if you are, instead the type of person who tolerates abuse from others, you still lose because you'll continue to be mistreated no matter how tolerant or forgiving you are. No one respects someone who doesn't respect themselves enough to command respect, at all times, from others. Even if it means being unpopular. Even if it means going "unloved" because really it does not. It means you are loving yourself by accepting no less than any other human being deserves.
If you are abused or are in an abusive relationship, whether it be with yourself or with someone else, stop it. If you can't stop it, get out. You may not have the life you thought you were going to have. That doesn't matter. You'll have a life that you cherish. You'll have a life you're happy to open your eyes for in the morning (okay, you'll have bad days too, but you get the gist). If you don't stop others from mistreating you, and believe me, mistreatment can be as subtle as snide, condescending remarks or as in-your-face as a fist, if YOU don't decide that you want happiness, you won't have it. And unhappiness will become a habit. It will begin to feel like an old familiar coat you don't want to throw out because it conforms to your body so well. You are so used to it.
Everyone will see how worn out you are, like the coat, but you won't notice until you are no longer warm.
I know, loving yourself is not as easy as buying a new coat. You've found that out by now, I'm sure. You've tried all the consolation prizes. There are none. You've discovered where the real love begins. With your own action.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Pretty Cozy
I feel lucky that for me poetry releases the demons (where will they go now?). Writing what eats at me. Demons. Well, this particular one, anyway.
Oh, and I know. I'm asking questions again. I can't escape myself.
On second thought, me and me, we're pretty cozy. I think I'll stay.
Christmas Tree in the Background, 2008
I think there is no you for me.
And if there is no you for me
to praise, I'll revere, instead, the land,
water, weather and every human hand
that worked to move this food to our table.
But if there is no you for me to pray to –
no force or lack of force to hold
accountable for misfortune’s consequence --
who will be my God? And what
should I replace you with?
Who should my intent be aimed toward
if there is no you?
What can I appease? How shall I
entice goodwill to bestow itself
on lowly me and my neighbors
who ask that I pray them into wellness
when they are ill.
If you aren’t there to hear?
Here to hear?
And if there is no you then
there is no him
either. So who is starving babies there
wherever I am not
while we're here filming baby's first
birthday cake?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Room at the Inn.
Room at the Inn. 12-16-08
Even though I am no longer a practicing Christian, even though terminology would classify me as an agnostic-atheist, every December I unwrap my nativity scene and display it where anyone who enters my home can see it.
What does this mean? And likewise, what does it mean that I've left my Virgin Mary, mother-of-God statue on the lawn where I placed it when it was given to me twelve years ago when we moved in? Hypocrite.
What does it mean that I thought I could let the wild rose bramble and honeysuckle vine and Rose of Sharon obscure it from view as a rebellious act -- but that after a little while, I couldn't carry my rebellious act through. Or wouldn't.
Wouldn't obscure that image, that portrayal, that representation of a woman who for all intents and purposes had absolutely no choice but to accept her fate and be forever painted as the "Madonna of the Streets." A pregnant virgin. An oxymoron. A prostitute? Raped? Abused? Just a silly horny girl with no form of birth control to resort to? Who WAS this Mary?
And who was this Joseph hero, this man who came to her aid, who saved her honor, maybe even more possibly, her very life and the life of her unborn child? What was in it for him? He certainly couldn't have predicted the love that would reign down on him in exchange for his devotion and belief in Mary.
To symbolically defy all the Casey Anthony's and Susan Smiths' and Andrea Yates' of the world, all those who do not cherish their children, all those who do not cherish women simply because they are women, to symbolically refuse the ideology of all the sexist men who think women are disposable little earworms, for all the young children whose brains aren't developed enough to recognize the sacrifices their parents make for their sakes, for me -- so that I can continue to speak my mind openly without fear of retribution (manners help) and so that I can remember to honor my own mother, and hers, and hers, I leave that statue.
And every year I display the trumpet-blowing angel, the wise men, the camel, the donkey, the lamb, the boy, the shepherd, the mother, the father, the newborn. For what reason? To honor humanity. To honor our humanity in an always difficult world. To show honor to those, especially, who do not fit into our subjective social ideals. To honor our ability to seek out, to surround ourselves with and to live peacefully among trumpet-blowing angels, wise men, and all the creatures of the earth. To honor our sensibility to aid others and to accept aid; to let others in, and to honor the humility that comes with knowing that others will love us and help us, despite our differences.
Even though I am no longer a practicing Christian, even though terminology would classify me as an agnostic-atheist, every December I unwrap my nativity scene and display it where anyone who enters my home can see it.
What does this mean? And likewise, what does it mean that I've left my Virgin Mary, mother-of-God statue on the lawn where I placed it when it was given to me twelve years ago when we moved in? Hypocrite.
What does it mean that I thought I could let the wild rose bramble and honeysuckle vine and Rose of Sharon obscure it from view as a rebellious act -- but that after a little while, I couldn't carry my rebellious act through. Or wouldn't.
Wouldn't obscure that image, that portrayal, that representation of a woman who for all intents and purposes had absolutely no choice but to accept her fate and be forever painted as the "Madonna of the Streets." A pregnant virgin. An oxymoron. A prostitute? Raped? Abused? Just a silly horny girl with no form of birth control to resort to? Who WAS this Mary?
And who was this Joseph hero, this man who came to her aid, who saved her honor, maybe even more possibly, her very life and the life of her unborn child? What was in it for him? He certainly couldn't have predicted the love that would reign down on him in exchange for his devotion and belief in Mary.
To symbolically defy all the Casey Anthony's and Susan Smiths' and Andrea Yates' of the world, all those who do not cherish their children, all those who do not cherish women simply because they are women, to symbolically refuse the ideology of all the sexist men who think women are disposable little earworms, for all the young children whose brains aren't developed enough to recognize the sacrifices their parents make for their sakes, for me -- so that I can continue to speak my mind openly without fear of retribution (manners help) and so that I can remember to honor my own mother, and hers, and hers, I leave that statue.
And every year I display the trumpet-blowing angel, the wise men, the camel, the donkey, the lamb, the boy, the shepherd, the mother, the father, the newborn. For what reason? To honor humanity. To honor our humanity in an always difficult world. To show honor to those, especially, who do not fit into our subjective social ideals. To honor our ability to seek out, to surround ourselves with and to live peacefully among trumpet-blowing angels, wise men, and all the creatures of the earth. To honor our sensibility to aid others and to accept aid; to let others in, and to honor the humility that comes with knowing that others will love us and help us, despite our differences.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Five Sexist Trends the Advertising World Just Can't Shake
The thing is, not everyone thinks as you or I or even the next person does. While some people have shy and modest personalities, other people are exhibitionists at heart. It's not as if these women have no other means to pay their mortgages or rent, right? Millions of women do it every month, and they are not models. So not only are these women earning great sums of money, those who enjoy attention or exhibitionism are having that need filled, as well.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
Five Sexist Trends the Advertising World Just Can't Shake
I agree with this and many of the other more liberal posts regarding this issue. I am not "into bondage" but it doesn't mean I can't understand it, in theory. I have never been inside a strip club but the existence of these establishments doesn't bother me. I don't know why sexual expression has such negative connotations to some people, or why it frightens and/or disgusts them to the extent it does. I would rather my son see a hot sex scene in a movie than someone getting his face torn off.
I remember finding my dad's Playboy and Hustler magazines under the hamper in the bathroom. I was probably only nine or so, but thrilled, enthralled. I had never seen such female beauty. I'm a female, not gay, but there was a beauty in those women much like that found in the works of great sculptors.
All this fuss over cleavage and skin. All these people who crave homogeneity, as long as what we are homogenized into is what they decide we should be.
But they don't think that.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Bad to be good.
The book is always better than the movie, right? Well, let's hope the movie does the novel justice. But I do kind of doubt it will. So would you be bad to be good?
Monday, December 8, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Consequence, not Karma. Core and not condition.
Consequence, not Karma. Core and not condition.
Minding my own business.
Then I'm not.
And sometimes (this is where it gets tricky) it's better that way.
Standing in line at Sam's Club. We're all waiting our turn. Everyone is always in a hurry, me included. Someone almost always waiting for me to show. Always something expected. It's okay. I must like it. Cliche, I know, but giving does feel good.
The woman in front of me is almost finished. I'm pre-writing a check while I wait. I don't even notice who's behind me until a girl with a double-sized stocked-to-the-hilt flat-bed comes up and asks a man, who reaches his cart (parked behind me and a little to the right) at the same time she pulls hers into line, if he is, in fact, in line. She wasn't mean, just not sure. He obviously got to the line and forgot to get laundry detergent and maybe something else, because he's rushing back with two items in each hand. He moved his cart to the side, probably because he wasn't sure if he would make it back in time to not hold up the line. So they both get to the spot at the same time. His cart-load is much smaller than hers, and she doesn't seem to mind if he IS in front of her, but before he even gets a chance to answer, the almighty commander of who gets-to-go, the cashier, says to him, in a very loud and condescending voice "THERE'S NO HOLDING YOUR PLACE IN LINE!"
The man responds very calmly, "I wasn't holding my place. If I was holding my place I would have had someone stand here for me."
So I turn around, and say to him (because the cashier so obviously tried to embarrass him) "...Plus, you got back before your turn came up. Look, I haven't even gone yet. I would have watched your cart for you. And I turned to the cashier and said, "I've done that a few times: forgotten something. My cart was too heavy to take all the way back to the aisle, so I just leave the cart and run back." (Most people really don't mind because if you're not back in time, they'll just go ahead of you, no harm done.) So she says to both of us, "Well, you should see the fights that break out over this." And we say "Really? What a shame, over something so small..." and the guy finishes with, "and especially considering the music playing, how can anyone want to fight?" And I laugh, because it's Christmas music. Haha. Right, how can anyone fight over a place in line while Christmas music is playing.? (He WAS being ironic, but also sarcastic. Not sure she got that).
So then he asks what I'm baking. And I say I have a restaurant. And he says, "Oh, here, let me give you my card" and he adds, "but you have to sign it in front of me." And I suspiciously ask "I have to sign it? What kind of card is it?" and he says, its a PBA card. And the cashier says "What kind of card IS it? And he says it's a PBA card. And he turns to me and he says, "If you ever get into trouble, just pull out this card."
I told you, I don't believe in Karma. But I do believe in consequence.
Sometimes, I guess it pays to look out for one another. And not because some kind of reward will ensue, but because it feels good to not let other people get bullied. In this case, though, I have to admit, it felt good twice.
Minding my own business.
Then I'm not.
And sometimes (this is where it gets tricky) it's better that way.
Standing in line at Sam's Club. We're all waiting our turn. Everyone is always in a hurry, me included. Someone almost always waiting for me to show. Always something expected. It's okay. I must like it. Cliche, I know, but giving does feel good.
The woman in front of me is almost finished. I'm pre-writing a check while I wait. I don't even notice who's behind me until a girl with a double-sized stocked-to-the-hilt flat-bed comes up and asks a man, who reaches his cart (parked behind me and a little to the right) at the same time she pulls hers into line, if he is, in fact, in line. She wasn't mean, just not sure. He obviously got to the line and forgot to get laundry detergent and maybe something else, because he's rushing back with two items in each hand. He moved his cart to the side, probably because he wasn't sure if he would make it back in time to not hold up the line. So they both get to the spot at the same time. His cart-load is much smaller than hers, and she doesn't seem to mind if he IS in front of her, but before he even gets a chance to answer, the almighty commander of who gets-to-go, the cashier, says to him, in a very loud and condescending voice "THERE'S NO HOLDING YOUR PLACE IN LINE!"
The man responds very calmly, "I wasn't holding my place. If I was holding my place I would have had someone stand here for me."
So I turn around, and say to him (because the cashier so obviously tried to embarrass him) "...Plus, you got back before your turn came up. Look, I haven't even gone yet. I would have watched your cart for you. And I turned to the cashier and said, "I've done that a few times: forgotten something. My cart was too heavy to take all the way back to the aisle, so I just leave the cart and run back." (Most people really don't mind because if you're not back in time, they'll just go ahead of you, no harm done.) So she says to both of us, "Well, you should see the fights that break out over this." And we say "Really? What a shame, over something so small..." and the guy finishes with, "and especially considering the music playing, how can anyone want to fight?" And I laugh, because it's Christmas music. Haha. Right, how can anyone fight over a place in line while Christmas music is playing.? (He WAS being ironic, but also sarcastic. Not sure she got that).
So then he asks what I'm baking. And I say I have a restaurant. And he says, "Oh, here, let me give you my card" and he adds, "but you have to sign it in front of me." And I suspiciously ask "I have to sign it? What kind of card is it?" and he says, its a PBA card. And the cashier says "What kind of card IS it? And he says it's a PBA card. And he turns to me and he says, "If you ever get into trouble, just pull out this card."
I told you, I don't believe in Karma. But I do believe in consequence.
Sometimes, I guess it pays to look out for one another. And not because some kind of reward will ensue, but because it feels good to not let other people get bullied. In this case, though, I have to admit, it felt good twice.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Phonies and other such sort of fancy hats
"What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff -- I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."
-- J.D. Salinger's Holden Caulfield
"This fall I think you're riding for -- it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started."
-- J.D. Salinger's Mr. Antolini, to Holden
"...you're going to start getting closer and closer -- that is, if you want to, and if you look for it and wait for it -- to the kind of information that will be very, very dear to your heart. Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them -- if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry."
-- J.D. Salinger's Mr. Antolini, to Holden
I am going to admit that I'm not as well-read in fiction as I am in fact or in poetry. I haven't always had the time to read large chunks of fiction on a regular basis, though I did read large amounts of literature for college as well as huge amounts of other materials. After taking care of Austin, going to school, working up to three jobs at a time, having then recovering from brain surgery, and finally opening the restaurant with Joe -- well it didn't leave me much time to do more than get a book in edgewise here and there. I've read a lot of the classics and a lot of philosophers, though not nearly as many as I should have by my age.
Lately I've been catching up and I can't believe how exciting it is, although at the same time I can remember that before Austin was born and I had only me to look out for, I'd stay up all night just to finish a book.
I finally read Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice, the annotated version. I wish I'd read it a long time ago. No, don't bother with the movie. It skips too much. You have to read the book. You must, especially if you're female, read the book. Oh, please do.
I'd like also to recommend J.D. Salinger's "The Catcher In The Rye" if you haven't read it already. It's been on my stack of "books to read next" for the past year, but here's the thing: I don't know if I loved it for it's own sake, or if I loved it because of how well it tied in with the movie I watched Wednesday night: Chapter 27, "A film about Mark David Chapman in the days leading up to the infamous murder of Beatle John Lennon" (1) starring a pimply-faced, plumper-than-I'm-used-to-seeing Jared Ledo as David Chapman. After the movie I knew I had to read the book immediately. After which I said to myself, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." And I felt kind of sick for a minute, thinking about John Lennon's death. Outside the context of the book, the movie isn't much more than a documentary. But within the context of the book, the movie is utterly creepy.
The book, published in 1951, "remains widely read; as of 2004, the novel was selling about 250,000 copies per year, with total worldwide sales over 65 million." (1) I wonder if it would have seemed as creepy a read had I not seen the movie before reading it. I'm certain I still would have loved the way Salinger handled the character's contradictory, digressive and progressively more and more depressing nature.
I'm not crazy, but mood swings, I know.
So I wondered, given his nature, how many people self-professed "yellow" Holden would have really kept from running off that cliff. Being the catcher in the rye, and ALL. And was he really in the shower during the incident? And what were the other 19 times? I love when a book makes me wonder about a character as if it were a person. And I love that great books, in general, remind me that I'm on the very end of time line -- the very end -- the next segment of which has yet to happen and so does not exist. And that we are all children, never knowing where the edge of the cliff is, where, the window.
(1) Wikipedia
Friday, October 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Ironically, I should be studying Earth Science, not writing this...
Ironically, I should be studying Earth Science, not writing this...
Someone offers an opinion or states their belief in a thing, out loud.
Then, it is open.
Then it is an open thought. It is, in a sense, a palpable thing that is now in my presence. And I choose my reaction. How do I respond? Often I'll ask what led to the belief or why the opinion is held.
This is nothing new. And yet, it is. Being "entitled" to hold and express our opinions is an American ideal we were born into in a way that Americans one hundred years ago or more were not. In a way that Americans only eighty years ago, were not.
Sometimes it's difficult to maneuver through all the different conversations that take place every day without realizing, at some point during the dialogue, that it is impossible to continue because the person you are speaking to isn't living in the same reality you are living in.
Not only is the person living a different story in a different book, it's an entirely different set of encyclopedias and dictionaries.
Two things. Two things I hadn't thought about in a long time because they no longer exist in my reality. Blessing myself in order to protect myself, and believing that actions are sins.
Last week after some satirical (but not mean-spirited) remarks between co-workers about a customer, one of them said "quick, bless yourself." And I said "Oh, blessing yourself for protection. I had forgotten about that."
I had forgotten that gesture being performed, and I'd especially forgotten it being performed as a gesture to ward off punishment.
That simple command made me realize that the reality I live in is not the same reality that the other person lives in.
Likewise, today, discussing gender preference and marriage with someone, I realized that we did not share the same reality and that there was no point in continuing the conversation.
Although she opened. She opened enough to tell but not enough to listen.
She opened long enough to say but not to hear. She closed back up.
She closed up when she said, in all sincerity, with all the heart she thought she was disclosing as being open, that she couldn't judge "their sin" (speaking of same-gender relationships) as being any worse than anyone else's. Her exact words were "Who's to say that their sin is any worse than mine when I call someone a bitch? It's not for me to judge." She really believed she was taking the high and righteous road. She really believed she was being "forgiving of sin."
It stopped me in my tracks.
It stopped me because not only do I believe that "being gay" is not a sin -- it reminded me that I haven't thought about the word sin in a long time. And I wondered: why? How did I forget that word and how did I forget that people still believe in it as if it is something that exists, but exists separate from them? As if it exists like a parasite (which scientists kind of believe, but they call it insanity, not sin -- and that's another topic, let's stay here for now). As if actions were parasites that have somehow attached themselves to us and if we just pray hard enough, long enough, strong enough, loud enough, often enough, if we just pray to our god the "sin" will be washed away, we'll be cleansed of the parasite.
I realized today that sin hasn't existed in my world for quite some time now.
It is not a sin to call someone a bitch.
It is not a sin to murder someone, it is murder. It is mean and heartless and savage, maybe, but it is an action. It is enacted. It is not a sin -- a something from beyond that can be removed by some greater power not us.
And it is certainly not a "sin" to "be gay."
The fact that this person could even equate someone's choice of whom to love/hang out with/sleep with etc. with the notion of sin -- stealing, for instance -- makes me sick.
And it is, in a way, a little frightening: So many people, so many people pointing toward an open pit of fire that I just don't see. Not a metaphorical fire. It's like standing next to someone who swears there's an ocean in front of you when all you can see are mountains or miles of desert.
When I heard the word "sin" it felt ancient.
Here where I am, there are only humans, doing. There aren't any angels guiding. There are people with consciences who are willing to sacrifice their own needs for the needs of others. There aren't any spirits listening to me and I am not going to be punished in some life after this life. My choices are mine, limited by my universe and what it contains.
But there is another universe. It is contained in my universe, or mine is contained in that one but they are not one in the same. I hope they are not one in the same. How can it be that our world is one, but our ideals divide it? How can it be that it is one but our words undo that reality?
In her universe there will be another world after she is finished with this one.
In her world there is sin and there is forgiveness and she is told what to believe sin is.
When someone asks something she's never considered you can see fear enter her eyes as they widen but just as quickly they narrow and you know the thought only entered half-way. You see it was dismissed. You see her dismiss it and you hear her close the entire conversation because in her world there is a god who intends that we abide by certain rules. In her world there is a god who intends.
In mine, I and others have intentions and actions and reactions and emotions and rationalizations.
In my world there is only this world. It has a past and a present. It may have a future, I don't propose to know. I have now. The next instant might not even happen. My heart or head could burst. My lungs could decide to stop. I will, one day, fail. Without doubt.
Until then I intend to maneuver through. If I'm tactful I may survive the conversations. If I'm very very quiet I might avoid them, all together. But if I'm very very quiet I might also undo the work of those who made it possible for me to take part in open dialogue.
She may not mind not having one. She may even continue to put an end to discussions by stating that her god's rule is the ultimate rule, and she follows it, without question.
I don't.
I do, however, mind not having dialogue.
So this.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
From Roger Freedman of the Facebook group "1,000 Strong Against John McCain"
From Roger Freedman of the Facebook group "1,000,000 Strong Against John McCain":
I'm a little confused. Let me see if I have this straight.....(hope I'm not offending anyone)
* If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you're "exotic, different.
"
* If you grow up in Alaska eating moose burgers, you're a quintessential American story.
* If your name is Barack, you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
* If you name your kids Willow, Trig and Track, you're a maverick.
* If you graduate from Harvard law School, you are unstable.
* If you attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well grounded.
* If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.
* If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.
* If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.
* If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.
* If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
* If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system, while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant , you're very responsible.
* If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America's.
* If you're husband is nicknamed "First Dude", with at least one DWI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.
OK, *much* clearer now.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Response to a friend's post
on the Democrats and how we need to get tougher:
I'm not sure where I stand on how much of a hard-ass Barack needs to be to win this although my husband and I were talking about it last night and he totally agrees that because the Dems always take the high road, we lose, and we need to play as dirty as the Republicans do to win this.
I'm a silly idealist hippie who believes truth and justice will prevail -- but I guess the past eight years show how naive I really am. The above poster brings up a good point in the "We'd rather be right than win" but unfortunately AND fortunately that's what separates us from the more conservative Republicans who too often, it seems, look at politics as if it was a football game and my team vs. their team. Obama is trying to change that and Ray is right -- McCain's basically plagiarized everything Obama said in his acceptance speech.
Let me say in Obama's offense: maybe that "pig with lipstick" was scripted in and he has begun to play rough. Someone even suggested his saying "old fish wrapped in paper" was a reference to McCain.
Palin makes me want to vomit. She is everything I'm against.
I wondered if that ticket wins, should I just take a bottle of something (cyanide perhaps?) and end it all now?
But seriously - for all those who say Obama can't/won't? Please, be quiet. The universe hears you. Say out loud and often this instead: Barack will win. We will rise up together and he will win. I have waited my entire life for this change. Since the third grade when I was told not to tell my grandma that the boy I had a crush on was "colored" I've been waiting. Since the tenth grade when I was forbidden to see Danny. Since my 18th birthday when I was disowned for dating and later marrying Jay. No, I wasn't a white girl looking for attention. I had grown up with these people and never saw the division until I was told to. By then it was too late, I'd already decided I was the type of person who would always judge people based on their actions and deeds, not their intentions or the faces they put on or the skin or gender they were born into.
Here's my hope: that all the dems will rise up together, that the independents will, for once, help instead of hinder us (and maybe one day we can pay them back in deed/action by actually giving them a voice, as well the dems and repubs), that people will vote on issues rather than race/gender (although I DO understand both the need for women and for black men to break ceilings, believe me) and that finally -- and this may sound like an odd one -- but I hope that all those people who are husbands and wives or in relationships or who are sons and daughters and sisters and brothers -- all those people who feel like they can't vote for a black president based on skin color and social pressures from their immediate sources -- go ahead, shake your heads no, no, no....lie to everyone in your family if you have to...say you'll never vote Barama. But then, once inside that little curtain, go ahead. Say to yourself "They'll never know" and vote for who you know can lead this country. Have some courage. Ask: What if?
Oh, and how to reach those who don't care? That's always been the greatest challenge a teacher faces...
Who knows, maybe even this little bit we do, will help.
I'm not sure where I stand on how much of a hard-ass Barack needs to be to win this although my husband and I were talking about it last night and he totally agrees that because the Dems always take the high road, we lose, and we need to play as dirty as the Republicans do to win this.
I'm a silly idealist hippie who believes truth and justice will prevail -- but I guess the past eight years show how naive I really am. The above poster brings up a good point in the "We'd rather be right than win" but unfortunately AND fortunately that's what separates us from the more conservative Republicans who too often, it seems, look at politics as if it was a football game and my team vs. their team. Obama is trying to change that and Ray is right -- McCain's basically plagiarized everything Obama said in his acceptance speech.
Let me say in Obama's offense: maybe that "pig with lipstick" was scripted in and he has begun to play rough. Someone even suggested his saying "old fish wrapped in paper" was a reference to McCain.
Palin makes me want to vomit. She is everything I'm against.
I wondered if that ticket wins, should I just take a bottle of something (cyanide perhaps?) and end it all now?
But seriously - for all those who say Obama can't/won't? Please, be quiet. The universe hears you. Say out loud and often this instead: Barack will win. We will rise up together and he will win. I have waited my entire life for this change. Since the third grade when I was told not to tell my grandma that the boy I had a crush on was "colored" I've been waiting. Since the tenth grade when I was forbidden to see Danny. Since my 18th birthday when I was disowned for dating and later marrying Jay. No, I wasn't a white girl looking for attention. I had grown up with these people and never saw the division until I was told to. By then it was too late, I'd already decided I was the type of person who would always judge people based on their actions and deeds, not their intentions or the faces they put on or the skin or gender they were born into.
Here's my hope: that all the dems will rise up together, that the independents will, for once, help instead of hinder us (and maybe one day we can pay them back in deed/action by actually giving them a voice, as well the dems and repubs), that people will vote on issues rather than race/gender (although I DO understand both the need for women and for black men to break ceilings, believe me) and that finally -- and this may sound like an odd one -- but I hope that all those people who are husbands and wives or in relationships or who are sons and daughters and sisters and brothers -- all those people who feel like they can't vote for a black president based on skin color and social pressures from their immediate sources -- go ahead, shake your heads no, no, no....lie to everyone in your family if you have to...say you'll never vote Barama. But then, once inside that little curtain, go ahead. Say to yourself "They'll never know" and vote for who you know can lead this country. Have some courage. Ask: What if?
Oh, and how to reach those who don't care? That's always been the greatest challenge a teacher faces...
Who knows, maybe even this little bit we do, will help.
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