I bet you've heard of the concept of being poisoned by anger. I'm sure we've all found times in our lives when we gave in to pettiness- let our need to be right triumph over what actually mattered.
And how do we determine what really matters, anyway? Living life for the small things is a concept I believe in whole heartedly, yet I know for sure that being angry about the ways others have thoughtlessly hurt one is self-destructive. Getting angry at thoughtlessness is like getting angry at large concrete walls. In fact, it feels a bit like banging one's head against a large concrete wall, and the results are pretty similar.
I believe in forgiveness, too, but how do you forgive thoughtlessness? It's like forgiving an earthquake. Or a war, more like. I don't know that I think wars are forgiveable things.
So where does that leave us? Soul poisoned, and cranky besides. "You do what you have to, I'm out." may be easy to say, but do we ever really walk away from something that's hurt us this way? How do we let go of this poisonous anger? Just because it may be petty (logically) doesn't mean it isn't real, after all. No matter how righteous we may feel, there's always some self-anger mixed in with these small-important-non-forgiveable things. A feeling of failure is there, yes? Anger, after all, is fear morphed into something dangerous, and failure is pretty terrifying.
If that seems like a knotty negative mess, it is. And my only answer is far too corny to type.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
To be an ally
Wake, now, my conscience,
with justice thy guide;
join with all people
whose rights are denied;
take not for granted
a privileged place;
God's love embraces
the whole human race.
- Thomas J.S. Mikelson, "Wake Now My Senses"
This verse of a hymn struck me this morning as a rather beautiful verbalization of what I believe about allies. By that, of course, I do not mean the winners of the world wars or the nations who formed NATO, but those who use their privilege to help those who are dis-privileged.
Allies are important and what they do is hard. When you stand with those on the painful side of structural violence prejudice tends to reflect onto you. Those who are being repressed tend to be rather suspicious of outsiders. It's not always clear what the "right thing" to do is, and there's sure to be disagreements between those working for change. Trust is a tricky thing, and understanding... well, who can really understand what anyone else goes through?
Maybe this is part of the reason why I love the Marcos view of things. No one should be shamed or prosecuted for being different, and all those who find themselves otherized should stand together. This Zapatista view means we can be allies for each other- after all, we're all different somehow, right? So as a white person I act as an ally with those who face structural violence because of the color of their skin or their national origin. As someone whose gender identity matches the legal gender status she was born into in an fairly uncomplicated way I recognize my privilege in relation to those whose gender expression or identity may be more subject to prejudice (of course I am still a relatively feminine woman in a sexist world, and that sometimes bites). As someone with a degree of economic freedom I must be aware of the issues of poverty. As someone who identifies as queer, I am wholly aware of the need for straight allies, even as I reject that whole repressive gay/straight polarization.
Did that read as messy? Well, my thinking on this gets pretty messy when I start thinking about questions of identity. I could write books about that, and I doubt you'd want to read so much just now.
In a memo stating the Zapatista's solidarity with LGBTQ peoples, Marcos said, "Let those who persecute the different be ashamed!"
I guess I would add to that the idea that those who truly believe in equality must be willing to exchange privilige for rights. Allies are those who see that what should be rights for all have become privileges, and that they are reaping the benefits of those privileges to the disadvantage of others. That's not an easy thing. This line of thought requires something that may be called guilt, and certainly requires a willingness to take responsibility.
Take responsibility. Be an ally. Be an agent for hope, not a part of the prosecution, part of the system that's oppressing some to the benefits of others. By remaining passive, by NOT taking responsibility, you are supporting oppression. I know that's true, however self-righteous and unhelpful it may sound.
And to support this, I'll throw in a poem. Glenn Beck be darned.
First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.
- Martin Niemoller
Oh yeah, here's that link to the memo from Marcos.
with justice thy guide;
join with all people
whose rights are denied;
take not for granted
a privileged place;
God's love embraces
the whole human race.
- Thomas J.S. Mikelson, "Wake Now My Senses"
This verse of a hymn struck me this morning as a rather beautiful verbalization of what I believe about allies. By that, of course, I do not mean the winners of the world wars or the nations who formed NATO, but those who use their privilege to help those who are dis-privileged.
Allies are important and what they do is hard. When you stand with those on the painful side of structural violence prejudice tends to reflect onto you. Those who are being repressed tend to be rather suspicious of outsiders. It's not always clear what the "right thing" to do is, and there's sure to be disagreements between those working for change. Trust is a tricky thing, and understanding... well, who can really understand what anyone else goes through?
Maybe this is part of the reason why I love the Marcos view of things. No one should be shamed or prosecuted for being different, and all those who find themselves otherized should stand together. This Zapatista view means we can be allies for each other- after all, we're all different somehow, right? So as a white person I act as an ally with those who face structural violence because of the color of their skin or their national origin. As someone whose gender identity matches the legal gender status she was born into in an fairly uncomplicated way I recognize my privilege in relation to those whose gender expression or identity may be more subject to prejudice (of course I am still a relatively feminine woman in a sexist world, and that sometimes bites). As someone with a degree of economic freedom I must be aware of the issues of poverty. As someone who identifies as queer, I am wholly aware of the need for straight allies, even as I reject that whole repressive gay/straight polarization.
Did that read as messy? Well, my thinking on this gets pretty messy when I start thinking about questions of identity. I could write books about that, and I doubt you'd want to read so much just now.
In a memo stating the Zapatista's solidarity with LGBTQ peoples, Marcos said, "Let those who persecute the different be ashamed!"
I guess I would add to that the idea that those who truly believe in equality must be willing to exchange privilige for rights. Allies are those who see that what should be rights for all have become privileges, and that they are reaping the benefits of those privileges to the disadvantage of others. That's not an easy thing. This line of thought requires something that may be called guilt, and certainly requires a willingness to take responsibility.
Take responsibility. Be an ally. Be an agent for hope, not a part of the prosecution, part of the system that's oppressing some to the benefits of others. By remaining passive, by NOT taking responsibility, you are supporting oppression. I know that's true, however self-righteous and unhelpful it may sound.
And to support this, I'll throw in a poem. Glenn Beck be darned.
First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.
- Martin Niemoller
Oh yeah, here's that link to the memo from Marcos.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Evil
Another question the YARs are focusing on right now is the definition of evil. My knee jerk, immediate reaction to the question "what is evil" is "WALMART".
I have said in the past that I believe Walmart is the epitome of modern evil.
There are a lot of reasons to dislike this corporation- they don't pay their workers a fair wage or treat them well, they're homophobic, their stores are huge and terrifyingly seductive, they drive nice American businesses out of business, they're about as environmentally destructive as it's possible for a retail operation to be... I could go on and on. Perhaps the thing that bothers me the most is that all Walmart exists for is to create profit- the organization just doesn't care about anything else. It worries me to see so much economic power in the hands of people who will do anything, no matter how destructive to our interconnected world, to make money. And I feel like no one wants to stand up to them because... well, they sell things for cheap. My libertarian friends believe that if Walmart was really doing anything bad people would stop shopping there. My non-libertarian friends think that if Walmart was really doing anything bad the government would stop them. When I say I boycott Walmart, most everyone looks at me like I'm nuts.
Every time I buy something from Walmart, every time I step through that door, I feel like I've given up a piece of my soul. I feel dirty, and used, and ashamed.
I want to say Walmart is a subtle evil, since labeling a retail chain evil seems a bit extreme, but it doesn't seem particularly subtle to me.
I have a very Quaker idea of the nature of good and evil, after all. Good is listening to our inner light- doing what's right even when it's difficult or uncomfortable or unpopular. Good is about thinking deeply about the effects of what we do, paying attention to how things are connected and who benefits from any particular course of action... respecting the earth, honoring our fellow human beings, creating justice. Evil is giving in to what's easy, to power structures and economic pressures and what's socially acceptable. I don't think wealth is necessarily evil, but I don't think it's particularly noble... or worth giving up my values for.
I have said in the past that I believe Walmart is the epitome of modern evil.
There are a lot of reasons to dislike this corporation- they don't pay their workers a fair wage or treat them well, they're homophobic, their stores are huge and terrifyingly seductive, they drive nice American businesses out of business, they're about as environmentally destructive as it's possible for a retail operation to be... I could go on and on. Perhaps the thing that bothers me the most is that all Walmart exists for is to create profit- the organization just doesn't care about anything else. It worries me to see so much economic power in the hands of people who will do anything, no matter how destructive to our interconnected world, to make money. And I feel like no one wants to stand up to them because... well, they sell things for cheap. My libertarian friends believe that if Walmart was really doing anything bad people would stop shopping there. My non-libertarian friends think that if Walmart was really doing anything bad the government would stop them. When I say I boycott Walmart, most everyone looks at me like I'm nuts.
Every time I buy something from Walmart, every time I step through that door, I feel like I've given up a piece of my soul. I feel dirty, and used, and ashamed.
I want to say Walmart is a subtle evil, since labeling a retail chain evil seems a bit extreme, but it doesn't seem particularly subtle to me.
I have a very Quaker idea of the nature of good and evil, after all. Good is listening to our inner light- doing what's right even when it's difficult or uncomfortable or unpopular. Good is about thinking deeply about the effects of what we do, paying attention to how things are connected and who benefits from any particular course of action... respecting the earth, honoring our fellow human beings, creating justice. Evil is giving in to what's easy, to power structures and economic pressures and what's socially acceptable. I don't think wealth is necessarily evil, but I don't think it's particularly noble... or worth giving up my values for.
Guilt
Something we've been grappling with (by "we" I mean the Young Adult Residents at the Mountain) is the question of guilt. My first reaction to the question of whether or not there is a place for guilt is "NO!". It's negative and manipulative and dis-empowering and generally not helpful, right? The idea that I'd ever try to make someone else feel guilty is horrific- I'm not particularly keen on the idea of making people feel crappy. Even if feeling guilt can move people to action, I'm not entirely certain that the end justifies the means.
Yet I wonder. What are we saying when we accuse people of trying to make us feel guilty? Are we sometimes denying responsibility because we don't want to have to face up to something? Specifically, the YARs have been talking a lot about privilege- white privilege, gendered privilege, class privilege, etc. We agree that some things are privileges that should be rights- like marriage, and access to decent healthcare and education.
Because of my background in anti-racism training I believe that what defines an ally is the willingness to question and give up privilege. I don't think being an ally has anything to do with being safe or comfortable or "politically correct" (gods I hate that term), but about doing what's right and facing the consequences.
You can only feel guilty, after all, if you aren't willing or able to DO anything. I don't want anyone to feel guilty, I want people to acknowledge responsibility. We are ALL responsible for systems of structural violence, like racism, and the right thing to do is to help dismantle those systems. Part of white privilege is the fact that as pale skinned people we don't see how much racism benefits us- we don't see the flip side of it, don't see that the things we take for granted aren't rights but privileges that can be taken away. Homophobia and racism and all the rest hurt ALL of us because when something that should be a right becomes a privilege it becomes something that can be used to threaten us.
That quote about no one being able to make you feel inferior without your consent can be expanded. Guilt is something you do to YOURSELF. Don't feel guilty, DO something. Take responsibility. Acknowledge injustice. Be a hero- don't let that right become a privilege. Don't deny unfairness just because it makes you uncomfortable or because it's easier just to let your privilege work for you. Be brave, for positive change takes courage. Give up being defensive, because that isn't helping anyone.
Yet I wonder. What are we saying when we accuse people of trying to make us feel guilty? Are we sometimes denying responsibility because we don't want to have to face up to something? Specifically, the YARs have been talking a lot about privilege- white privilege, gendered privilege, class privilege, etc. We agree that some things are privileges that should be rights- like marriage, and access to decent healthcare and education.
Because of my background in anti-racism training I believe that what defines an ally is the willingness to question and give up privilege. I don't think being an ally has anything to do with being safe or comfortable or "politically correct" (gods I hate that term), but about doing what's right and facing the consequences.
You can only feel guilty, after all, if you aren't willing or able to DO anything. I don't want anyone to feel guilty, I want people to acknowledge responsibility. We are ALL responsible for systems of structural violence, like racism, and the right thing to do is to help dismantle those systems. Part of white privilege is the fact that as pale skinned people we don't see how much racism benefits us- we don't see the flip side of it, don't see that the things we take for granted aren't rights but privileges that can be taken away. Homophobia and racism and all the rest hurt ALL of us because when something that should be a right becomes a privilege it becomes something that can be used to threaten us.
That quote about no one being able to make you feel inferior without your consent can be expanded. Guilt is something you do to YOURSELF. Don't feel guilty, DO something. Take responsibility. Acknowledge injustice. Be a hero- don't let that right become a privilege. Don't deny unfairness just because it makes you uncomfortable or because it's easier just to let your privilege work for you. Be brave, for positive change takes courage. Give up being defensive, because that isn't helping anyone.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Changes and Decisions
In Middle School (when I was twelve years old) I decided that one of my life goals was to attend Harvard- because it was the best college in the country and I was determined to prove myself.
In High School I visited Boston and Cambridge- loved being in the epicenter of American Unitarian Universalism and decided I wanted to live there someday.
In College I learned more about the history of Unitarian Universalism, realized I truly wanted to be a minister and that Harvard would be a great place to get my MDiv, actually visited campus and liked many of the people I met. I wrote papers about Harvard's connections to Unitarian Universalism, talked to current students, developed my senior thesis to make my dedication to religion as a career clear, and designed my gap years after college to give me a good life story to present to the admissions committee. Harvard was the goal.
Then in the first January of my gap years I began an identity crisis. Over the next couple of months I completely disintegrated as a person, lost my fiancee and my job, and decided to move to the woods for awhile to think things over. Spent the summer coming to terms with and reassembling myself and the fall reconnecting to my roots and applying to divinity school.
Now I'm on top of a Mountain still thinking things over, and I'm faced with a dilemma.
Last December I visited Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley, California, and fell in love with it. I'd just finished my application, and in January found out I was in. At the beginning of February i told them I was coming, and sent a check for 200 dollars. That's a lot of money for me! I only earn 92 dollars a week right now!
Enter the dilemma.
I also applied to Harvard. Spent time (and money) to take the GRE and get a decent score. Asked for references from former professors. Had Bryn Mawr and Williams Mystic send over official transcripts. Spent days agonizing over my application essays. Contacted former employers to get my tax information early so I could have my FAFSA submitted on time. Yada Yada Yada.
Anyway, I found out last week that Harvard has accepted me and is offering me free tuition (at least for my first year). Crap.
I won't find out what Starr King and the Graduate Theological Union are offering me until mid May.
I am not the person who wanted to go to Harvard anymore. I don't feel the need to prove myself intellectually by going to an elite east coast school, I don't like Cambridge (or know anyone there), and... well, I don't know that I can really express all that I feel about this. Here are some pictures to help.
(that's William Ellory Channing, very important guy in the history of American Unitarianism and Harvard)
In High School I visited Boston and Cambridge- loved being in the epicenter of American Unitarian Universalism and decided I wanted to live there someday.
In College I learned more about the history of Unitarian Universalism, realized I truly wanted to be a minister and that Harvard would be a great place to get my MDiv, actually visited campus and liked many of the people I met. I wrote papers about Harvard's connections to Unitarian Universalism, talked to current students, developed my senior thesis to make my dedication to religion as a career clear, and designed my gap years after college to give me a good life story to present to the admissions committee. Harvard was the goal.
Then in the first January of my gap years I began an identity crisis. Over the next couple of months I completely disintegrated as a person, lost my fiancee and my job, and decided to move to the woods for awhile to think things over. Spent the summer coming to terms with and reassembling myself and the fall reconnecting to my roots and applying to divinity school.
Now I'm on top of a Mountain still thinking things over, and I'm faced with a dilemma.
Last December I visited Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley, California, and fell in love with it. I'd just finished my application, and in January found out I was in. At the beginning of February i told them I was coming, and sent a check for 200 dollars. That's a lot of money for me! I only earn 92 dollars a week right now!
Enter the dilemma.
I also applied to Harvard. Spent time (and money) to take the GRE and get a decent score. Asked for references from former professors. Had Bryn Mawr and Williams Mystic send over official transcripts. Spent days agonizing over my application essays. Contacted former employers to get my tax information early so I could have my FAFSA submitted on time. Yada Yada Yada.
Anyway, I found out last week that Harvard has accepted me and is offering me free tuition (at least for my first year). Crap.
I won't find out what Starr King and the Graduate Theological Union are offering me until mid May.
I am not the person who wanted to go to Harvard anymore. I don't feel the need to prove myself intellectually by going to an elite east coast school, I don't like Cambridge (or know anyone there), and... well, I don't know that I can really express all that I feel about this. Here are some pictures to help.
This is what I picture when I think of Harvard:
(that's William Ellory Channing, very important guy in the history of American Unitarianism and Harvard)And this is what I picture when I think of Starr King:
(That's Mt. Starr King in Yosemite National Park)
Which of those looks more inviting to you? I must admit that as much as I love Channing.... I don't necessarily feel the need to study in the same room where he taught a couple hundred years ago. And I think joyfully of the speech Emerson made in that Harvard chapel where he totally called them out for being stuffy and overly intellectual. Yes they've changed, but many of his criticisms still seem to ring true.
Who do I want to be?
In talking with a friend I compared these two schools to women... Harvard being the "brilliant and wealthy woman I'd had a crush on for ages who suddenly realized she liked me", and Starr King being the "flaky but lovable woman I'd fallen in love with and already said yes to". Rather like deciding between a Vanderbilt and a hippie. Who, my friend asked, would I want to wake up with 20 years from now?
Both schools would be a challenge. I feel like I'd grow more at Starr King, but I'd certainly meet amazing people at Harvard. Both schools have strong connections to the UUA. Both produce wonderful ministers. Both have good libraries and provide a multifaith learning environment. Starr King is somewhere I'd love to live, Harvard has the prestige part of me would still like to have. I know a lot about Harvard and how it fits into what is happening and has happened. California and Starr King are an unknown- an adventure.
What it comes down to is this- I want to go to Starr King, I feel certain that that's the right place for me. But there's a whole heck of a lot of pressure to go to Harvard, and I certainly understand why.
AGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.
(That's Mt. Starr King in Yosemite National Park)Which of those looks more inviting to you? I must admit that as much as I love Channing.... I don't necessarily feel the need to study in the same room where he taught a couple hundred years ago. And I think joyfully of the speech Emerson made in that Harvard chapel where he totally called them out for being stuffy and overly intellectual. Yes they've changed, but many of his criticisms still seem to ring true.
Who do I want to be?
In talking with a friend I compared these two schools to women... Harvard being the "brilliant and wealthy woman I'd had a crush on for ages who suddenly realized she liked me", and Starr King being the "flaky but lovable woman I'd fallen in love with and already said yes to". Rather like deciding between a Vanderbilt and a hippie. Who, my friend asked, would I want to wake up with 20 years from now?
Both schools would be a challenge. I feel like I'd grow more at Starr King, but I'd certainly meet amazing people at Harvard. Both schools have strong connections to the UUA. Both produce wonderful ministers. Both have good libraries and provide a multifaith learning environment. Starr King is somewhere I'd love to live, Harvard has the prestige part of me would still like to have. I know a lot about Harvard and how it fits into what is happening and has happened. California and Starr King are an unknown- an adventure.
What it comes down to is this- I want to go to Starr King, I feel certain that that's the right place for me. But there's a whole heck of a lot of pressure to go to Harvard, and I certainly understand why.
AGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.
Recently...
Highlights of the last week or so:
- We have had some lovely weather and some craziness (during the institute there was fog, rain, snow, hail, and a couple of hours of sunlight- good thing that was all indoors!). The never ending snow seems to have stopped, fortunately. We were experiencing some pretty intense cabin fever.
- Tanya and Dante came to visit! We went chasing waterfalls on Wednesday (Glen falls is a fairly intense hike!) and yesterday went to Asheville- which is my favorite city and always absorbs far too much of my money.
- Wednesday morning I got to hold Sabine and Brian's four month old baby Myra while Sabine met with the other YARs. Discovered that she loves waltzing as much as I do. Or at least she would start fussing whenever I stopped waltzing. I am glad I do not have a baby of my own yet but it was really nice to borrow a particularly adorable one for a short period of time.
- The farm is coming along! Brian got the field tilled and our chicken coop has almost three walls and the ground was finally unfrozen enough to start setting up the greenhouse (which is really a hoophouse but that's not what we call it). Mostly I end up working on marketing projects, but I really enjoy the days when I do get to go down and help out.
- We hosted one of our Institutes- basically weekend long workshops run by activists. This one featured Dr. Ysaye Barnwell of Sweet Honey in the Rock. I was in over-awed fan shock for much of the weekend (kinda like when Meredith Monk came to Bryn Mawr), but had a good time all the same. Though I'm definitely not used to that much singing!
- Also during that weekend learned more about labyrinths. Am now even more obsessed then before. Labyrinths are awesome.
- Senior High Con the weekend before that went well. Favorite quote of the weekend was from a poem read at the coffeehouse- "I'm not perfect, I'm not always sane, but I'm here and that's beautiful". woo-hoo for Mountain Youth! Most meaningful compliment of the weekend- one of the PAL Mentors looked me in the eyes Sunday and said "you're very cool". Small thing, but it made me feel awesome. That was the Con where I shadowed Brian- this weekend I'll be running the Con. The Con full of Middle Schoolers. Aieeee!
Update- it was 70 degrees and sunny today and I taught Myra the two step and cha cha.
- We have had some lovely weather and some craziness (during the institute there was fog, rain, snow, hail, and a couple of hours of sunlight- good thing that was all indoors!). The never ending snow seems to have stopped, fortunately. We were experiencing some pretty intense cabin fever.
- Tanya and Dante came to visit! We went chasing waterfalls on Wednesday (Glen falls is a fairly intense hike!) and yesterday went to Asheville- which is my favorite city and always absorbs far too much of my money.
- Wednesday morning I got to hold Sabine and Brian's four month old baby Myra while Sabine met with the other YARs. Discovered that she loves waltzing as much as I do. Or at least she would start fussing whenever I stopped waltzing. I am glad I do not have a baby of my own yet but it was really nice to borrow a particularly adorable one for a short period of time.
- The farm is coming along! Brian got the field tilled and our chicken coop has almost three walls and the ground was finally unfrozen enough to start setting up the greenhouse (which is really a hoophouse but that's not what we call it). Mostly I end up working on marketing projects, but I really enjoy the days when I do get to go down and help out.
- We hosted one of our Institutes- basically weekend long workshops run by activists. This one featured Dr. Ysaye Barnwell of Sweet Honey in the Rock. I was in over-awed fan shock for much of the weekend (kinda like when Meredith Monk came to Bryn Mawr), but had a good time all the same. Though I'm definitely not used to that much singing!
- Also during that weekend learned more about labyrinths. Am now even more obsessed then before. Labyrinths are awesome.
- Senior High Con the weekend before that went well. Favorite quote of the weekend was from a poem read at the coffeehouse- "I'm not perfect, I'm not always sane, but I'm here and that's beautiful". woo-hoo for Mountain Youth! Most meaningful compliment of the weekend- one of the PAL Mentors looked me in the eyes Sunday and said "you're very cool". Small thing, but it made me feel awesome. That was the Con where I shadowed Brian- this weekend I'll be running the Con. The Con full of Middle Schoolers. Aieeee!
Update- it was 70 degrees and sunny today and I taught Myra the two step and cha cha.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Sweaters for Chickens
Apparently a club of knitters in Somerset, England, has taken to knitting sweaters for chickens who have just ended their careers as industrial egg layers.
This concept makes me really happy. These "battery hens" are usually sold for slaughter after their first year of service (since after a year they start laying fewer eggs). A "rescue center" in Great Britain has taken to buying these year old chickens and finding homes for them. Unfortunately many of these birds lose their feathers during their egg-laying careers and therefore don't have the fluff to keep themselves warm. Hence the sweaters.
There are a lot of reasons why this makes me happy. One is simply the footage of British people sitting around and knitting jumpers for hens. That's just awesome.
Part of my pleasure is that this is another culture (however similar our languages may be), so I can just be amused and pleased without it being an enormous political statement.
I love that these people want to give a few chickens a happy and cozy retirement. It's a bit of goofy kindness towards some fairly unintelligent animals. A bit of kindness that gives a few people some time to enjoy a hobby together, some animal lovers a chance to help a few creatures who've had a pretty hard knock life.
It's not going to change the world, but it is really lovely. Just a happy small moment of "really? sweaters for chickens?"
Sometimes it's good to take a break from worrying about identity and how the heck I'm going to pay for grad school and just visualize a hen's first run around a yard in her new sweater. What chicken joy these people have created. How excited that bird might be to eat a bug and scratch at the dirt and run in circles and generally act like a chicken. It's an amusing mental image- try it!
Here is the full BBC article (with short video clip), if you're interested, and here is a link to the Little Hen Rescue website.
This concept makes me really happy. These "battery hens" are usually sold for slaughter after their first year of service (since after a year they start laying fewer eggs). A "rescue center" in Great Britain has taken to buying these year old chickens and finding homes for them. Unfortunately many of these birds lose their feathers during their egg-laying careers and therefore don't have the fluff to keep themselves warm. Hence the sweaters.
There are a lot of reasons why this makes me happy. One is simply the footage of British people sitting around and knitting jumpers for hens. That's just awesome.
Part of my pleasure is that this is another culture (however similar our languages may be), so I can just be amused and pleased without it being an enormous political statement.
I love that these people want to give a few chickens a happy and cozy retirement. It's a bit of goofy kindness towards some fairly unintelligent animals. A bit of kindness that gives a few people some time to enjoy a hobby together, some animal lovers a chance to help a few creatures who've had a pretty hard knock life.
It's not going to change the world, but it is really lovely. Just a happy small moment of "really? sweaters for chickens?"
Sometimes it's good to take a break from worrying about identity and how the heck I'm going to pay for grad school and just visualize a hen's first run around a yard in her new sweater. What chicken joy these people have created. How excited that bird might be to eat a bug and scratch at the dirt and run in circles and generally act like a chicken. It's an amusing mental image- try it!
Here is the full BBC article (with short video clip), if you're interested, and here is a link to the Little Hen Rescue website.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Wahoo!
Hello World and Welcome to MARCH!
That's right, it's no longer February and I'm excited.
When I had a livejournal account I used to do "Thankful Thursday" posts. It's a new month, a new week, and a joyful morning, so I thought I'd write a happy Monday post.
Things that give me joy:
- earning a delighted grin from Myra (Brian and Sabine's three month old baby)
- PUPPIES (by that I mean dogs, of all sorts, particularly those belonging to Mountain and Stone House staff)
- waking up warm and cozy and comfortable and happy to be in my own skin
- snail mail from friends and family
- Our gas fireplace, and the moments that happen around it
- random explosions of dancing and singing with the other residents
- Game nights with staff and residents
- Inside jokes , and being sure enough of love and friendship to tease
- Warm boulders offering solitude and views of the mountains
- Readily available hugs
- Sunrises, Sunsets, and the moon though the branches of dwarf white oaks
- Really Awesome Rocks and Minerals and a housemate to get properly excited about them
- Town runs and the candy consumption that follows
- Utterly delicious vegetarian food from the dining hall. all the time.
- Delightful times working in the kitchen- hanging out and being useful and knowing what I'm doing
- Conversations with my parents and sister and close friends- keeping in touch, knowing I'm loved
- Having my batik work appreciated
- Rainbows
- Having a community space where I can be utterly honest and open and always feel safe
- Cheesy Sci Fi movies and housemates who know the dialogue as well as I do
- Being really genuinely thanked for doing something helpful or constructive
- Knowing another Youth Con is coming up (Senior High this weekend- heck yeah baby!)
- Feeling cared for, being allowed to care for others
- Warm Showers
- Supportive Mentors
- Time to think deeply balanced by time to physically do necessary things
- Craft Projects (I'm currently mildly obsessed with popup cards, for some reason)
- Future plans to be excited about and look forward to
- Glue Sticks and card stock (yes, a continuation of the pop up card thing)
- Being listened to, practicing my own deep listening
- Readily available hiking trails
- New skills and knowledge
- Guitar playing housemates
- Naps
- Hot chocolate
- Overalls and vintage dresses and rainbow hats, and having such items approved of
- Meeting Mountain Guests and hearing a bit of their stories, seeing how joyful they are to be here together
- Having people to run to when I receive exciting news, and knowing they'll be genuinely thrilled for me
And I could go on and on but I need to brush my teeth and get dressed for breakfast. I wonder if it'll be more blueberry pancakes today? Hope so!
To quote Stepford Wives, "It's like the way life was meant to be". Only without all the creepy and the robots.
That's right, it's no longer February and I'm excited.
When I had a livejournal account I used to do "Thankful Thursday" posts. It's a new month, a new week, and a joyful morning, so I thought I'd write a happy Monday post.
Things that give me joy:
- earning a delighted grin from Myra (Brian and Sabine's three month old baby)
- PUPPIES (by that I mean dogs, of all sorts, particularly those belonging to Mountain and Stone House staff)
- waking up warm and cozy and comfortable and happy to be in my own skin
- snail mail from friends and family
- Our gas fireplace, and the moments that happen around it
- random explosions of dancing and singing with the other residents
- Game nights with staff and residents
- Inside jokes , and being sure enough of love and friendship to tease
- Warm boulders offering solitude and views of the mountains
- Readily available hugs
- Sunrises, Sunsets, and the moon though the branches of dwarf white oaks
- Really Awesome Rocks and Minerals and a housemate to get properly excited about them
- Town runs and the candy consumption that follows
- Utterly delicious vegetarian food from the dining hall. all the time.
- Delightful times working in the kitchen- hanging out and being useful and knowing what I'm doing
- Conversations with my parents and sister and close friends- keeping in touch, knowing I'm loved
- Having my batik work appreciated
- Rainbows
- Having a community space where I can be utterly honest and open and always feel safe
- Cheesy Sci Fi movies and housemates who know the dialogue as well as I do
- Being really genuinely thanked for doing something helpful or constructive
- Knowing another Youth Con is coming up (Senior High this weekend- heck yeah baby!)
- Feeling cared for, being allowed to care for others
- Warm Showers
- Supportive Mentors
- Time to think deeply balanced by time to physically do necessary things
- Craft Projects (I'm currently mildly obsessed with popup cards, for some reason)
- Future plans to be excited about and look forward to
- Glue Sticks and card stock (yes, a continuation of the pop up card thing)
- Being listened to, practicing my own deep listening
- Readily available hiking trails
- New skills and knowledge
- Guitar playing housemates
- Naps
- Hot chocolate
- Overalls and vintage dresses and rainbow hats, and having such items approved of
- Meeting Mountain Guests and hearing a bit of their stories, seeing how joyful they are to be here together
- Having people to run to when I receive exciting news, and knowing they'll be genuinely thrilled for me
And I could go on and on but I need to brush my teeth and get dressed for breakfast. I wonder if it'll be more blueberry pancakes today? Hope so!
To quote Stepford Wives, "It's like the way life was meant to be". Only without all the creepy and the robots.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
On the Loose Lyrics
These are the lyrics to one of my favorite camp songs- the meaning behind my blog title. Yeah, it's corny.
Did you ever watch the sunrise turn the sky completely red,
Have you slept beneath the moon and stars, a pine bough for your bed
Did you sit and talk with friends, though a word was never said,
Then you're just like me and you've been on the loose.
Chorus:
On the loose to climb a mountain,
On the loose where I am free.
On the loose to live my life, the way I think my life should be,
For I've only got a moment and a whole world yet to see.
I'll be looking for tomorrow on the loose.
There's a trail that I'll be hiking just to see where it might go.
Many places yet to visit, many people yet to know,
For in following in my dreams, I will live and I will grow,
On a trail that's waiting out there on the loose.
Chorus
So in search of love and laughter, I'll be traveling cross this land
Never sure of where I'm going, for I haven't any plan,
So in time when you are ready, come and join me and take my hand,
And together we'll share life out there on the loose.
Chorus
In this world that I am traveling, I will think of you this way,
Remembering your smile, for it seems like yesterday
When we slept beneath the stars, and we dreamed about this day
Now we have come together on the loose.
As I sit and watch the sunset and the daylight softly fades,
I am thinking of tomorrow and the friendships we have made.
I will value them for always and I hope you'll do the same,
And forever we'll explore life on the loose.
Chorus
Now the moon is softly glowing and the stars are twinkling bright
Our laughter and our friendship have cleared this cloudy night
Come and join our flickering campfire, come and sing our happy songs
And together we'll share life out on the loose.
Chorus
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Elementary School Con
This weekend was our first Elementary School Con of the year- theme "CONmunicating through Action". So basically the Mountain has been covered in precious excited children for the last couple of days, and we are now all totally knackered. Yesterday was the awesomest.
Highlights:
- The YARs had to go talk to the Mountain's Board about who we are and what we're getting out of the program. I made a point of stressing the fact that this residency is important because of how rare service opportunities for young adults are in Unitarian Universalism. At least two board members stopped me later to tell me they thought I was going to be a great minister. woo-hoo!
- Morning Circle, where we gather in the treehouse and sing. It's always a highlight. I still have "Rocky Raccoon" stuck in my head. I lost my voice. Again.
- My morning workshop was flippin' awesome. Shelly and I presented the CONvicts (yes, that's really what we call them, it's tradition!), with various team-building challenges for which they were rewarded with puzzle pieces... in the end assembling those into a puzzle. I'm always a bit nervous about processing team-building activities, since I don't have as much training in that as I'd like, but it went wonderfully well and they got out of it exactly what we hoped they would! YAYYYYYY!
- A little girl stopped me outside the Rec Hall to tell me she liked my hat and thought I was pretty. The "awww" factor of this was pretty intense.
- I was late to field time (because there was a pressure front going through and my knees were all stiff) but had a few really lovely conversations on the way down and capture the flag in the snow is bloody awesome. I walked one of the kids from my workshop back up (he lost a sock in the snow and we stayed behind to find it) and had a philosophical discussion of the nature of change.
- Free time we meant to go into town but Ned's car was blocked. So instead we drove down the Mountain and back up in the back of Nic's huge pickup truck, while blasting black eyed peas... then sat in the dining hall and pretended we were in town (I contributed some of my candy stash to this worthy cause).
- Introduced two Focus Groups to the game Frog Detective. There's something incredibly cheering about sitting in a circle with 7-12 year olds yelling "Frog Detective, Frog Detective, We Need You!"
- Ended up not performing in the Coffeehouse but had a wonderful time all the same- we had some amazingly talented CONvicts and every performance was so... sincere, and pure, and good hearted. And everyone cheered so loudly for each act. I get warm fuzzies just thinking about it.
- The Dance was amazing. I rocked out with the socially awkward kids in the back to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and a couple other songs. So. Much. Fun.
- I was in charge of vespers and it went incredibly well, though the story I read was a bit long. Got lots of compliments today but the really big one was the fact that it moved one of my peers to tears.
- "Family Council" with all of the PALs and PAL Mentors was incredibly intense and moving. Also learned that one of my fellow Mentors is the son of Meg Barnhouse- one of the most amazing UU ministers in the history of our faith tradition. I'm still geeking out about it. He is also pretty darn awesome and I'm looking forward to working with him on the next Con as well.
- The weather was perfect, though we still couldn't get most of the Advisor's cars up the Mountain. Today the weather was so lovely I ended up taking a nap outside after everyone left... which was GLORIOUS.
- I have eaten at least two dozen cookies in the last 24 hours. YES.
- Have seen a whole new side of Brian (our camp director and the driving force behind our new organic farm). Also have been inducted into the world of Sandwich Punching. There was a very amusing incident involving someone's sandwich being punted out the back door of the dining hall. Don't worry, she was finished with it.
- My skills at dealing with large groups continue to improve. There's something about the rush of bringing 90 people to attentive silence that's difficult to describe.
Oh! And we have a new resident volunteer- he's here for a couple of weeks and Nelson is enjoying having someone who isn't female to hang out with.
Tonight the Star Wars viewing parties continued. Epic awesomeness. Though I'm still angry at George Lucas for stealing all the artwork from Dinotopia and for adding stupid SGI stuff to the classic trilogy. Grrrrrrr.
Tomorrow shall be spent in Housekeeping... which is a lot more fun then you'd think.
Highlights:
- The YARs had to go talk to the Mountain's Board about who we are and what we're getting out of the program. I made a point of stressing the fact that this residency is important because of how rare service opportunities for young adults are in Unitarian Universalism. At least two board members stopped me later to tell me they thought I was going to be a great minister. woo-hoo!
- Morning Circle, where we gather in the treehouse and sing. It's always a highlight. I still have "Rocky Raccoon" stuck in my head. I lost my voice. Again.
- My morning workshop was flippin' awesome. Shelly and I presented the CONvicts (yes, that's really what we call them, it's tradition!), with various team-building challenges for which they were rewarded with puzzle pieces... in the end assembling those into a puzzle. I'm always a bit nervous about processing team-building activities, since I don't have as much training in that as I'd like, but it went wonderfully well and they got out of it exactly what we hoped they would! YAYYYYYY!
- A little girl stopped me outside the Rec Hall to tell me she liked my hat and thought I was pretty. The "awww" factor of this was pretty intense.
- I was late to field time (because there was a pressure front going through and my knees were all stiff) but had a few really lovely conversations on the way down and capture the flag in the snow is bloody awesome. I walked one of the kids from my workshop back up (he lost a sock in the snow and we stayed behind to find it) and had a philosophical discussion of the nature of change.
- Free time we meant to go into town but Ned's car was blocked. So instead we drove down the Mountain and back up in the back of Nic's huge pickup truck, while blasting black eyed peas... then sat in the dining hall and pretended we were in town (I contributed some of my candy stash to this worthy cause).
- Introduced two Focus Groups to the game Frog Detective. There's something incredibly cheering about sitting in a circle with 7-12 year olds yelling "Frog Detective, Frog Detective, We Need You!"
- Ended up not performing in the Coffeehouse but had a wonderful time all the same- we had some amazingly talented CONvicts and every performance was so... sincere, and pure, and good hearted. And everyone cheered so loudly for each act. I get warm fuzzies just thinking about it.
- The Dance was amazing. I rocked out with the socially awkward kids in the back to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and a couple other songs. So. Much. Fun.
- I was in charge of vespers and it went incredibly well, though the story I read was a bit long. Got lots of compliments today but the really big one was the fact that it moved one of my peers to tears.
- "Family Council" with all of the PALs and PAL Mentors was incredibly intense and moving. Also learned that one of my fellow Mentors is the son of Meg Barnhouse- one of the most amazing UU ministers in the history of our faith tradition. I'm still geeking out about it. He is also pretty darn awesome and I'm looking forward to working with him on the next Con as well.
- The weather was perfect, though we still couldn't get most of the Advisor's cars up the Mountain. Today the weather was so lovely I ended up taking a nap outside after everyone left... which was GLORIOUS.
- I have eaten at least two dozen cookies in the last 24 hours. YES.
- Have seen a whole new side of Brian (our camp director and the driving force behind our new organic farm). Also have been inducted into the world of Sandwich Punching. There was a very amusing incident involving someone's sandwich being punted out the back door of the dining hall. Don't worry, she was finished with it.
- My skills at dealing with large groups continue to improve. There's something about the rush of bringing 90 people to attentive silence that's difficult to describe.
Oh! And we have a new resident volunteer- he's here for a couple of weeks and Nelson is enjoying having someone who isn't female to hang out with.
Tonight the Star Wars viewing parties continued. Epic awesomeness. Though I'm still angry at George Lucas for stealing all the artwork from Dinotopia and for adding stupid SGI stuff to the classic trilogy. Grrrrrrr.
Tomorrow shall be spent in Housekeeping... which is a lot more fun then you'd think.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Living Simply
Thoreau writes of his desire to live simply, to avoid a life of "quiet desperation". It has certainly been said before that we now lead, for the most part, lives of LOUD desperation. Noisome miserable cranky frustration.
"Live simply, that others my simply live." Well... certainly I can see how destructive our frenetic materialistic culture is. But for me this misses the point. Live simply so that YOU can live.
This is something I've thought about before, of course- the wonderfullness that is "living simply". For me this is often connected to "religious" experiences, feelings of connection to the natural world, intentional communities/family, and time spent doing Nothing.
I'm thinking about it now because I found this passage in The Tao of Pooh and wanted to jump up and down and say to someone "Yes! Exactly!".
For me cities are the physical site of the Big Congested Mess (Benjamin Hoff, you're a genius), and what I did last year was go away. I left the Big Congested Mess and went out to find Nothing again. Nothing is one of the most important things for me, and that's something I've felt for a long time... Why most of my most blissful moments have happened in Solitude, why I'm so obsessed with Silence as a creative force, why I believe so fiercely in Richard Louv's No Child Left Inside initiative and the idea that the best thing you can do for a child is to give them Nothing. Nothing may be the most important thing we are ever given, and the hardest to notice. Nothing cannot be found in possessions or Activities or expensive educations, and most certainly not on the internet.
If there is one thing I hope I can contribute to the world, it is Nothing. The Nothing my father gave me, the Nothing I have tried to express over and over as an artist and dancer, the Nothing I found at the Huyck Preserve.
Maybe when I do find a life partner, I will be able to give that. Not advice or jewelry or flowery declarations of undying affection, but that Nothing that means so much more. The silences of true companionship, the little nothings of lovers, the openness of a true partner. May I be wise and loving and hopeful enough to say to someone, "I have Nothing to offer you," and may that be what is wanted.
"Live simply, that others my simply live." Well... certainly I can see how destructive our frenetic materialistic culture is. But for me this misses the point. Live simply so that YOU can live.
This is something I've thought about before, of course- the wonderfullness that is "living simply". For me this is often connected to "religious" experiences, feelings of connection to the natural world, intentional communities/family, and time spent doing Nothing.
I'm thinking about it now because I found this passage in The Tao of Pooh and wanted to jump up and down and say to someone "Yes! Exactly!".
Many people are afraid of Emptiness, however, because it reminds them of Loneliness. Everything has to be filled in, it seems- appointment books, hillsides, vacant lots-- but when all the spaces are filled, the Loneliness really begins. Then the Groups are joined, the Classes are signed up for, and the Gift-to-Yourself items are bought. When the Loneliness starts creeping in the door the Television Set is turned on to make it go away. But it doesn't go away. So some of us do instead, and after discarding the emptiness of the Big Congested Mess, we discover the fullness of Nothing.
For me cities are the physical site of the Big Congested Mess (Benjamin Hoff, you're a genius), and what I did last year was go away. I left the Big Congested Mess and went out to find Nothing again. Nothing is one of the most important things for me, and that's something I've felt for a long time... Why most of my most blissful moments have happened in Solitude, why I'm so obsessed with Silence as a creative force, why I believe so fiercely in Richard Louv's No Child Left Inside initiative and the idea that the best thing you can do for a child is to give them Nothing. Nothing may be the most important thing we are ever given, and the hardest to notice. Nothing cannot be found in possessions or Activities or expensive educations, and most certainly not on the internet.
If there is one thing I hope I can contribute to the world, it is Nothing. The Nothing my father gave me, the Nothing I have tried to express over and over as an artist and dancer, the Nothing I found at the Huyck Preserve.
Maybe when I do find a life partner, I will be able to give that. Not advice or jewelry or flowery declarations of undying affection, but that Nothing that means so much more. The silences of true companionship, the little nothings of lovers, the openness of a true partner. May I be wise and loving and hopeful enough to say to someone, "I have Nothing to offer you," and may that be what is wanted.
Sacred and Profane
In anthropology we talk a lot about the Sacred and the Profane as concepts for understanding how cultures function in our lives. I've been thinking about what that means for me personally- where that division stands in my life.
First off, profane does not mean "dirty" in this context, or even necessarily inappropriate. It just means ordinary, belonging to the world of the mundane
Sacred spaces are easy to define- church sanctuaries, museums, national parks, dance studios...
The arts are sacred, even as they serve as a reflection of the profane. Theater in particular.
A confidence is sacred, as is any conversation deemed to be happening in a "safe space".
Privacy is sacred- private lives are both profane and sacred, in complex and troubling ways. They become profane when they become public.
Life and dignity are sacred. I think of the natural world- from trees to zooplankton to granite boulders, as sacred- cities as profane.
The sacred can, of course, be profaned. Litter is thrown in our national parks, privacy is breached, lives are defiled and dignity denied. Who feels the consequences of this?
More specifically, what do you do when you've profaned the sacred? Repentance isn't enough, atonement isn't likely, transformation is insufficient. If what you've profaned is truly sacred, there is no forgiveness... do you live this way forever, with a millstone 'round your neck, dwelling in regret? Maybe that's what Prometheus's punishment represents - the unending guilt of profaning that which should have been sacred... and society and our own conscience acting as the flesh eating eagle?
Not a very chipper post for Marti Gras, I know.
First off, profane does not mean "dirty" in this context, or even necessarily inappropriate. It just means ordinary, belonging to the world of the mundane
Sacred spaces are easy to define- church sanctuaries, museums, national parks, dance studios...
The arts are sacred, even as they serve as a reflection of the profane. Theater in particular.
A confidence is sacred, as is any conversation deemed to be happening in a "safe space".
Privacy is sacred- private lives are both profane and sacred, in complex and troubling ways. They become profane when they become public.
Life and dignity are sacred. I think of the natural world- from trees to zooplankton to granite boulders, as sacred- cities as profane.
The sacred can, of course, be profaned. Litter is thrown in our national parks, privacy is breached, lives are defiled and dignity denied. Who feels the consequences of this?
More specifically, what do you do when you've profaned the sacred? Repentance isn't enough, atonement isn't likely, transformation is insufficient. If what you've profaned is truly sacred, there is no forgiveness... do you live this way forever, with a millstone 'round your neck, dwelling in regret? Maybe that's what Prometheus's punishment represents - the unending guilt of profaning that which should have been sacred... and society and our own conscience acting as the flesh eating eagle?
Not a very chipper post for Marti Gras, I know.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Garumph
Today is my least favorite national holiday. It's been my least favorite holiday ever since I graduated from the elementary school valentine's box tradition, and even before then it felt like a competition. We all wanted to be the one who gave the most popular valentines and received the most quantity and quality of valentines in returns. You totally knew someone disliked you if the valentine from them was stupid and had really crap candy attached to it.
And now? Now I'm an adult. And single. And generally speaking I'm quite okay with this- I even LIKE being single (which has surprised me more then anyone, I assure you). But then February comes around, and I'm less happy anyway because of the dark and cold... and along comes this holiday like a slap in the face.
Valentine's day contains no chalky conversation hearts or chemically enhanced roses, no overly packaged boxes of chocolates or fuzzy stuffed animals for me. I believe I've only had one "real" Valentine's day. And that's okay, because materialism is obnoxious and no relationship should require that much frosting on this one commercialized day of the year. I think the only real reason I've ever like Valentine's day is because it was an excuse to give people stuff. I love giving presents, to the point of annoying excess. Character flaw, perhaps.
At this point in my life I am single mostly by choice- I'm not pining for someone or feeling empty and alone (though I have hopes for the fall). And yet. Being single on this holiday is awful- like our culture is demanding that I be bitter or depressed or wracked with feelings of insufficiency. Glaring at the huge bright red grocery store display does not relieve my feelings much. No, corporate america, I will not buy your stupid themed candies. At least, not until they go on sale.
And now? Now I'm an adult. And single. And generally speaking I'm quite okay with this- I even LIKE being single (which has surprised me more then anyone, I assure you). But then February comes around, and I'm less happy anyway because of the dark and cold... and along comes this holiday like a slap in the face.
Valentine's day contains no chalky conversation hearts or chemically enhanced roses, no overly packaged boxes of chocolates or fuzzy stuffed animals for me. I believe I've only had one "real" Valentine's day. And that's okay, because materialism is obnoxious and no relationship should require that much frosting on this one commercialized day of the year. I think the only real reason I've ever like Valentine's day is because it was an excuse to give people stuff. I love giving presents, to the point of annoying excess. Character flaw, perhaps.
At this point in my life I am single mostly by choice- I'm not pining for someone or feeling empty and alone (though I have hopes for the fall). And yet. Being single on this holiday is awful- like our culture is demanding that I be bitter or depressed or wracked with feelings of insufficiency. Glaring at the huge bright red grocery store display does not relieve my feelings much. No, corporate america, I will not buy your stupid themed candies. At least, not until they go on sale.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Political Correctness
The following quote has made me think:
NCMEAG's experience has been that it is often people with privilege and power who use the term "political correctness" to make light of legitimate cultural and personal issues of people who don't have that same level of power, of people who have most-often been targets of prejudice and discrimination. The PC term is too-often used to diminish the importance of a legitimate issue or to bully people into silence.
- Monroe Gilmour, Coordinator
North Carolina Mascot Education & Action Group (NCMEAG)
I have often heard people say they "hate political correctness". What do they mean when they say that? That they hate having to watch what they say, that they feel like it's "pandering to minorities", that they should have the right to say whatever they want, or that they feel it's a superficial non-solution to issues of discrimination?
I am always tempted to say that I agree. "oh yeah, me too, it's so obnoxious". I don't want to be labeled a self-righteous crazy person, after all. I don't want to be dismissed or diminished because what I say seems silly. I don't want to be accused of saying things I don't mean just to be socially accepted.
How does one explain the importance of the language and symbols we use?
"I'm not just being politically correct! This issue is real, it has real meaning and significance and your dismissal of it is a confirmation of bigotry and smug small mindedness".
Well, that sounds awful defensive.
"What more should we be doing to address this issue?"
That's sidestepping the issue of language's importance.
"Why do you feel that this is a silly point of activism?"
Might be a beginning of a conversation, anyway. More dialogue is rarely a bad thing. Very few people want to think of themselves as bigots, after all. We'd much rather be allies, so why not encourage them to act more on the side of the disempowered? Or at least ask them why they're uncomfortable with that?
What's so wrong with being sensitive, anyway?
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Voice of the Wind
There's a poem in the YAR office about wind- how the air currents around the Mountain remind us of the constant motion of life and draw awareness to our breath… the intake and release of air that connects us to air currents the world over.
It is impossible to ignore the force of wind at The Mountain. It slices through your layers on cold mornings, rushes around your room at night, carries your greetings to other mountain tops during the day. If it were not for the wind we might forget the passage of time here, how quickly the world is rushing by below. It makes me feel like part of our moving world, as if a part of me is travelling over hills and valleys and oceans as the rest of me stands here, laughing gleefully. It reminds me to look up and around, draws my attention to the branches of trees and the flight of birds, keeps my spirit lively.
"Let your hair down," says the wind, or "take shelter behind that post- what else have you taken the time to touch today?" It chortles and scoops up leaves, bidding me notice their graceful dance across my path. The wind makes even the horrible plastic grocery bag beautiful. I smile at these antics, pleased at the reminder of how life itself can be a dance, a series of glorious moving moments.
Do you remember dancing with the wind across a mountain meadow as a child? Throwing a kite into the sky to soar and dip? Tossing whirl-a-copter pods up into the air or spreading dandelion seeds with the force of your breath?
There is something undeniably magic about wind, this element of movement.
Love Talk
I found this in one of my books of readings and meditations and thought it was unbelievably beautiful (though it has, obviously, no ramifications for my life as it stands now, I wanted to share it anyway).
"Words"
Let's keep talking, my love. Words we have to spare: love words and angry words, and beneath them hurting, bleeding , dying words, and beneath them words melted by fire and hardened by ice, words of sadness and truth birthed from the cavern of tears.
And when the words are spent, heaped over the pages and spilled to the floor, let us read each other's eyes and see the chapters and the places where old bookmarks press the pages apart, so the book opens up to the old story before we can move on.
For you are all the love words I have ever heard and all the hurt words where the love is deepest, stripped back and bleeding.
But let's keep caring, ever so slowly building down the words, one beneath the other, getting closer to the truth and still deeper until you touch your words to my wounds, honor them, and feel the pain. Our wounds may not be healed by the touch of the other's words but are dignified by our recognition of their existence. Then and only then will the words mean anything; when we have used them up until the old meanings have been scrubbed off; when the wrong words have been tried and discarded and the right words have been spoken in a whisper, then let us climb down into each other's soul and rest there in the silence, and love.
- Elizabeth Tarbox
Life Tides, 1993
Tanya and Dante’s Wedding Ceremony
This is the ceremony we created for my strangebrain's wedding in the summer of 2009, in which I served as wedding officiate.
Opening Words:
Tanya and Dante, your friends and family are with you today to bear witness to this new stage in your life together. We wish for you all of the joy that witnessing your love and humor has given us, and remind you at this celebration of your commitment that you have our continued love and support.
If anyone has an objection to this formalization of the lifetime commitment between these two, speak now or forever hold your peace.
Marriage Reading.
Tanya's Aunt Theresa will now share a reading.
Shakespearean Sonnet
Now join hands, and with your hands your hearts.
Wedding Vows:
Officiate: Dante, what is your promise to Tanya today?
Dante:
I promise to cherish you always
To keep you safe, to be truthful with you
I will be unceasingly yours
And will love you forever
As husband and friend
Officiate: Tanya, what is your promise to Dante today?
Tanya:
I promise to love and protect you
To stay by your side, and be open and trusting
I will cherish you always
And will share all that I am
As your wife and friend
I do's:
Officiate: Dante Amoroso, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?
Dante: I do.
Officiate: Tanya Kiacolai, Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?
Tanya: I do.
Exchange of Rings:
The marriage rings you have brought with you today will serve as a lasting reminder of the commitment you have made. Tanya, please place this awesome metallic object on Dante's hand. Now Dante, please present Tanya with her super sparkly symbol.
Blessing/Closing:
If anyone has something brief they wish to say to the bride and groom before this assembled company, please come forward now.
Tanya and Dante, you have formalized in our presence the existence of the bond of love between you - vowing to be loyal and loving toward one another. Above you is the sky, below you is the Earth. Like a star, your love has been a guiding light. Like the trees that surround us, your love is ever growing and deeply rooted. Be understanding and patient, for storms may come and go. Be quicker to laughter than to anger, and free always in giving affection and warmth.
Declaration of Marriage:
By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.
Announcement:
As marriage is an event that must be celebrated not quietly but with glory and distinction, I now invite you to join me in greeting Dante and Tanya as husband and wife.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Etiquette
In one of our meetings a week or so ago I said "Sometimes what is socially unacceptable is what is morally right". I am fairly comfortable with the fact that many people find that statement troublesome. It does tie in fairly tidily with my self description as a troublemaker.
I believe it is important to step outside of our comfort zones, to confront our own privileges and misconceptions. In my life I've chosen honesty over politeness, and this gets me in a great deal of trouble. Because sometimes I say stupid things I should not have said. Some things really are better kept to myself- sometimes it is most definitely true that if you don't have something nice to say you shouldn't say anything at all. Do I want to become more tactful? Absolutely. I don't want to hurt people, and I'd prefer not to be disliked. Yet still...
There is a tradeoff to everything. We live in a classist society, much as we like to deny it, and etiquette is one of the more obvious definers of class. If you want to talk to the powerful and have them listen, it may be more effective to do so in their own language and by their rules. Work within the system, don't step on toes, there's a time and a place for everything. Yeah.
And NO. I will not be silenced by your rules and roles. I will not let you take away my power to speak and to question. I would rather be rude then obedient, if obedience comes with the price of ignoring truths.
In his introduction of me at the service two weeks ago, Rev. Morrill said he had always heard my name connected to the word "justice" and was therefore surprised when the service I suggested was pastoral in message. I'm an activist, yes, and a troublemaker and a nuisance. But I don't just care for people in the abstract sense of making a better world for everyone, I care about people on an individual basis. Challenging isn't enough, and it isn't all there is to who I am. Perhaps that's why I burned out of advocacy work- it wasn't enough, I felt incomplete and frustrated.
We've been talking about what our "big questions" are- when is it right to be inappropriate? Can one respect people without always respecting social conventions? What about those times when people do things I think are horrifically inappropriate. I guess we must choose what we respect- I respect people but not systems that silence or dis-empower. I respect you but not your desire to ignore your privilege. I respect confidentiality and privacy but I question the boundaries of what we do and do not say.
Anyway, I've chosen to be an activist but I make plenty of mistakes. To quote our fearless leader, "for a vegetarian I sure eat a lot of foot".
I believe it is important to step outside of our comfort zones, to confront our own privileges and misconceptions. In my life I've chosen honesty over politeness, and this gets me in a great deal of trouble. Because sometimes I say stupid things I should not have said. Some things really are better kept to myself- sometimes it is most definitely true that if you don't have something nice to say you shouldn't say anything at all. Do I want to become more tactful? Absolutely. I don't want to hurt people, and I'd prefer not to be disliked. Yet still...
There is a tradeoff to everything. We live in a classist society, much as we like to deny it, and etiquette is one of the more obvious definers of class. If you want to talk to the powerful and have them listen, it may be more effective to do so in their own language and by their rules. Work within the system, don't step on toes, there's a time and a place for everything. Yeah.
And NO. I will not be silenced by your rules and roles. I will not let you take away my power to speak and to question. I would rather be rude then obedient, if obedience comes with the price of ignoring truths.
In his introduction of me at the service two weeks ago, Rev. Morrill said he had always heard my name connected to the word "justice" and was therefore surprised when the service I suggested was pastoral in message. I'm an activist, yes, and a troublemaker and a nuisance. But I don't just care for people in the abstract sense of making a better world for everyone, I care about people on an individual basis. Challenging isn't enough, and it isn't all there is to who I am. Perhaps that's why I burned out of advocacy work- it wasn't enough, I felt incomplete and frustrated.
We've been talking about what our "big questions" are- when is it right to be inappropriate? Can one respect people without always respecting social conventions? What about those times when people do things I think are horrifically inappropriate. I guess we must choose what we respect- I respect people but not systems that silence or dis-empower. I respect you but not your desire to ignore your privilege. I respect confidentiality and privacy but I question the boundaries of what we do and do not say.
Anyway, I've chosen to be an activist but I make plenty of mistakes. To quote our fearless leader, "for a vegetarian I sure eat a lot of foot".
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Inside Emerson House
The Young Adult Residents at the Mountain live in Emerson house- next to the lodge. This semester there are three females and one male- so Nelson is all by himself in one bedroom and us girls are in what used to be the artist's studio (huge windows, attached half-bath, track lighting...)
Our kitchen has a sweet gas stove and the living room has a gas fireplace. Main bathroom has a whirlpool tub... and dolphin shower curtain. In other words, we're living the high life.
To the Mountain
Leaving home is tough. I love my parents and enjoy spending time with them- the months I just spent in their house were a delicious vacation from the worries of young adult life. I was happy there, and did not want to leave. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end... and so yesterday I finished loading my belongings into the car and started driving over the mountains. The main interstate to North Carolina is still closed because of a major rockslide. The secondary route through the heart of the National Park is closed because of icing and a rockslide. So I went with the third option- a serious of winding country roads through the middle of nowhere. Except for some minor dizziness it was a pleasant drive- I took my time (not hard, since I mostly had the roads to myself) and took frequent snack breaks. I found an amazing arts center to stop at for a bathroom break. I took in most of the scenic overlooks along my route. And I arrived at the Mountain just as my book on tape finished, fifteen minutes before the program officially began. Success!!!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Winter Service
This is the service I delivered today at Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church. It's not perfect, of course, but I'm proud of my first effort all the same.
Reading/Meditation was Jacqui James "Dark and Light, Light and Dark".
Responsive Reading was number 543 by Greta Crosby:
Let us not wish away the winter. It is a season to itself, not simply the way to spring.
When trees rest, growing no leaves, gathering no light, they let in sky and trace themselves delicately against dawns and sunsets.
The clarity and brilliance of the winter sky delight. The loom of fog softens edges, lulls the eyes and ears of the quiet, awakens by risk the unquiet. A low dark sky can snow, emblem of individuality, liberality, and aggregate power. Snow invites to contemplation and to sport.
Winter is a table set with ice and starlight.
Winter dark tends to warm light: fire and candle; winter cold to hugs and huddles; winter want to gifts and sharing; winter danger to visions, plans, and common endeavoring—and the zest of narrow escapes; winter tedium to merry-making.
Let us therefore praise winter, rich in beauty, challenge, and pregnant negativities.
And of course we sang Shelley Denham's "Dark of Winter". The story for all ages was The Snow Country Prince.
Rev Jake Morrill played "Let the Mystery Be" for the offertory, which was perfect.
Oh yes, and this was my sermon/homily:
My first real introduction to what the depths of winter could bring was the summer of 2004, when I worked in Alaska as an outdoors skills counselor. Summer in Alaska is a big deal. Most Alaskans spend every moment they can spare out of doors during those months where the sun hardly sets. I remember one person telling me that in winter there are too many car accidents because it's dark and snowy, and in summer there are too many accidents because everyone is sleep deprived from staying out all night. They appreciate light and warmth on a level I'd never experienced in Tennessee, and I think every Alaskan is at least a little afraid of the dark. Some, of course, are more afraid then others. On one of my camper's forms the mother wrote that her daughter was terrified of darkness and if she got scared all we needed to do was "remind her that it was light outside".
For years I have thought of this as a fantastic metaphor for how often in our lives we overlook the love and hope and joy that surrounds us when we're sunk in private misery. I have grinned at the memory of rolling up this camper's tent flap so that she could, quite literally, see the light.
I wonder what the mother said to comfort this child in the winter months, when she could not bring the girl to a window and reassure her that the sun was still shining. Was her stuffed animal and mother's love enough comfort? Did having a night light help? For half of the year, after all, it was night-time in Alaska. What do we do when it really is dark outside, when the world truly is a cold and inhospitable place?
Here in Tennessee we rarely get significant snowfall or have the opportunity to ice-skate on a frozen pond under a clear blue sky. Winter is pretty dreary here, and in most of the places I've lived over the last five years winter was bitterly cold and dreary, which was not an improvement. I doubt many would argue with me that while snow is attractive, sleet and biting wind have few redeemable qualities.
Even places with "true" winter have fewer natural excitements to offer. The animals are in hiding or scurrying quickly to warmth. Most of the plant world seems lifeless and gray. The landscape is stark and uninviting, and we often can't see it because the sun is down.
This is not a season of doing, or of nature's bountiful splendor. It is not the time for a child's first swim in wild waters or a hawk's first flight. It is a time of darkness.
What on earth can we find to appreciate in such a horrid season?
Perhaps the only good thing about winter we can think of is that with all the leaves gone you can really see the trees. Certainly many of us appreciate the opportunities to spend time indoors with family and friends, gathered around the hearth. Maybe we're glad of an excuse not to venture out into the world. As winter continues and the holidays are over, the novelty of leafless trees has worn away, and we begin to feel the effects of cabin fever, where do we look for joy in winter?
Many of my Pagan friends say they love all of the seasons, and even appreciate them equally. What do they see in winter? It has none of spring's rising splendor or summer's warming glory or autumn's crisp flash. Winter mostly makes me want to hibernate.
I remember complaining to a teacher that February was the really the longest month of the year. I said I wanted to wake up the next day and find it had passed me by, and violets had bloomed outside. She warned me not to wish my life away. I was pretty sure at the time she had no idea how miserable this season made me.
Winter is dark and cold and sleepy. The animals are in hiding or scurrying quickly to warmth. Most of the plant world seems lifeless and gray. The landscape is stark and uninviting, and we often can't see it because the sun is down.
This is not a season of doing, or of nature's bountiful splendor. It is not the time for a child's first swim in wild waters or a hawk's first flight. It is a time of darkness.
Celebrating darkness seems nearly heretical. Darkness is synonymous in our culture with ignorance, pain, struggle, hardship, even evil. To go over to the dark side is to betray all that is good and noble, to give in to ambition and greed and fear. Yet perhaps if we believe that we are shorting ourselves.
In the balance of things we need pain and regret to appreciate joy and contentment. There can be no courage without fear, no glory without the possibility of failure. But embracing darkness is about more than this balance.
There is beauty in the dark, and comfort in the cold. We need rest as well as exercise.
There is strength to be found in Winter, a time for reflection and recuperation. We cannot always be growing and adventuring. Winter can be a time of strengthening before the harried seasons of light return, a time to ponder the depth of life and self, to look within and gather ourselves together.
And after all…Why are we afraid of the dark? Because our surroundings are hidden from us, because we fear the darkness within ourselves, because can't be sure there are no monsters lurking there? Light is hope and dark is fear, night is a time of despair. If light is truth then darkness is mystery, the unknown or the unknowable. We curse the darkness or light candles against it, seeking to turn night into day.
It may be true that it is better to light a candle then curse the darkness, but perhaps sometimes it is even better to calm down and let the darkness stay as it is.
We cannot see the stars if we stare at the streetlamps.
The dark is as sacred as the light.
Hope is not just the return of the light, that moment when the sun is seen again, it is the moment before dawn, that darkest hour.
Winter is a time of keeping faith. We must hold on to the hope that even as the days grow longer and weather gets colder our reflection and rest are held to some purpose. The seasons are precious because they are fleeting. Even in Alaska winter will turn to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, and round again to winter. We know this from experience, yet in winter experience is often not enough. This season of cold and darkness calls for something more, something from within ourselves. As the natural world is sleeping we must look to our own hearts and to the things that we create to find our happiness.
I fear winter because I fear that I am not enough.
Like Mariko and Kazuo I sometimes feel too small and lonely. There are limits on any holy optimism, and sometimes it truly is dark outside. What if I cannot find the courage to build and sustain hope in the cold dreariness? What if I cannot find the strength to trust and love and breathe deeply of that crisp chill air?
Perhaps my fears will help me to pay attention. If I notice that I am cold I think of those who have no snug house and down coats. If I am lonely I think of those who have been cast out of their families because of their gender or sexual orientation, those who know that society is against them. Winter is a time of choice as well as a time of faith. Will I hide behind my fears or face them? Will I weep in isolation or step out into the mystery of life? Will I admire the shapes of trees or begrudge them their lack of leaves? Will I wish my life away?
As Unitarian Universalists we take a path of immense courage when we say we do not know the answers, that we are often in the dark. Our faith is not necessarily an antidote to fear, for we acknowledge that things do not necessarily turn out well and the world is full of things to be afraid of. Yet we are not fear mongers or supporters of small mindedness. We stand on the side of love. Even on the dreariest night we hold to our hope for humanity and ourselves. We stand in the darkness, celebrating its beauty and its possibility. We stand by each other, even when the seasons are harsh. We cherish a sense of mystery, for it is in that we may hope to find wisdom.
I say we should welcome winter as a time of questioning and wonder and connection.
To quote a friend, "come over to the dark side. We have cookies".
Friday, January 15, 2010
Richard III... nerdy movie review
FINALLY saw the 1995 film version of Richard III with Ian McKellan and I LOVED it. Visuals were fantastic, acting was amazing (gotta love those let's-stuff-all-the-good-british-actors-into-one-movie films, particularly when that means seeing good character/comedic actors doing dramatic parts), and I thought the setting was intriguing.
My issues with it were these:
1. The house of York is the WHITE rose. What the crap is up with all the red? Okay, I know, it's that "Nazi England" look, and it works, but I was still annoyed.
2. They take out Queen Margaret and give her lines to the Duchess of York. WTF? The beauty of the Duchess's last scene is that you don't know what happens to her- that she's all destroyed with grief and just leaves. Don't put her on to a plane to France and turn her into the totally bitter old woman- she's a sweet elderly lady who tells her son off, not a hateful old hag! Though that did improve the "oh, poor Richard!" effect... maybe too much. Kindof oversimplifies his motivations, doesn't it? Otherwise loved the duchess character, of course. FAVORITE PART EVER.
3. The elder prince is supposed to be a strong character- he's the one person who sees through his uncle! That's one of the best parts of the play! Don't make him into a terrified and pompous pipsqueak of a tween. NOT OKAY.
Nerd rage over, returning to fan person mode.
I felt I should have been sad that Richmond's final speech disappeared, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't miss it. It's Richard III! The only person we want monologues from is Richard! Well, at least in a movie. On stage I'd prefer that be left in, thank you kindly.
Usually tragedies make me sad, but Richard III just makes me happy. The language, the characters, the melodramatic angst... *sigh* It's my absolute favorite of Shakespeare's plays.
My issues with it were these:
1. The house of York is the WHITE rose. What the crap is up with all the red? Okay, I know, it's that "Nazi England" look, and it works, but I was still annoyed.
2. They take out Queen Margaret and give her lines to the Duchess of York. WTF? The beauty of the Duchess's last scene is that you don't know what happens to her- that she's all destroyed with grief and just leaves. Don't put her on to a plane to France and turn her into the totally bitter old woman- she's a sweet elderly lady who tells her son off, not a hateful old hag! Though that did improve the "oh, poor Richard!" effect... maybe too much. Kindof oversimplifies his motivations, doesn't it? Otherwise loved the duchess character, of course. FAVORITE PART EVER.
3. The elder prince is supposed to be a strong character- he's the one person who sees through his uncle! That's one of the best parts of the play! Don't make him into a terrified and pompous pipsqueak of a tween. NOT OKAY.
Nerd rage over, returning to fan person mode.
I felt I should have been sad that Richmond's final speech disappeared, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't miss it. It's Richard III! The only person we want monologues from is Richard! Well, at least in a movie. On stage I'd prefer that be left in, thank you kindly.
Usually tragedies make me sad, but Richard III just makes me happy. The language, the characters, the melodramatic angst... *sigh* It's my absolute favorite of Shakespeare's plays.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Romeo and Juliet
I have always thought the title characters in this play were idiotic. If you look at the story dispassionately it is far more depressing then heartwarming. They were too young, had just met each other, made incredibly stupid decisions, and died because of silly mistake. It isn't exactly something we'd want anyone we love to emulate.
Yet the power of the story is not in its logic but its emotion. However ridiculous the story may seem when we lay it out in its bare bones, for those two characters it was REAL. Shakespeare's writing makes us see how real it was- that however unwise and impetuous and short sighted their love affair may have been, yet still it had legitimacy.
How many young couples (and lonely young persons) have longed for that legitimacy? Adolescent experiences may appear predictable and short lived, but that doesn't mean they aren't real. Perhaps it is an eccentricity of our culture that we honor that reality at all. Works that Romeo and Juliet open the door for real life stories of romantic love. The stories that we tell dictate what we will and will not accept, what we will choose.
There is good reason that so many more hetrosexual couples then queer couples survive out of college. The story of straight people meeting as undergraduates and getting married afterwards is a path well blazed and accepted. The story of two women meeting as undergraduates and getting wed, or two men? They have far far more to prove, and no clear trail to walk down.
Will there be an artistic or literary or dramatic work that blazes the trail for these couples? I find it hard to believe it is only a matter of politics. Politics ride on the stories that we tell and how those stories are told.
Writers and artists of all stripes, I dare you- rise up and create! Tell stories that will blaze the path! Romeo and Juliet had to die, and so did Harvey Milk, but there are so many more stories out there needing to be heard, needing your art to rise to cultural legitimacy. Brokeback Mountain was not enough. We need more.
Yet the power of the story is not in its logic but its emotion. However ridiculous the story may seem when we lay it out in its bare bones, for those two characters it was REAL. Shakespeare's writing makes us see how real it was- that however unwise and impetuous and short sighted their love affair may have been, yet still it had legitimacy.
How many young couples (and lonely young persons) have longed for that legitimacy? Adolescent experiences may appear predictable and short lived, but that doesn't mean they aren't real. Perhaps it is an eccentricity of our culture that we honor that reality at all. Works that Romeo and Juliet open the door for real life stories of romantic love. The stories that we tell dictate what we will and will not accept, what we will choose.
There is good reason that so many more hetrosexual couples then queer couples survive out of college. The story of straight people meeting as undergraduates and getting married afterwards is a path well blazed and accepted. The story of two women meeting as undergraduates and getting wed, or two men? They have far far more to prove, and no clear trail to walk down.
Will there be an artistic or literary or dramatic work that blazes the trail for these couples? I find it hard to believe it is only a matter of politics. Politics ride on the stories that we tell and how those stories are told.
Writers and artists of all stripes, I dare you- rise up and create! Tell stories that will blaze the path! Romeo and Juliet had to die, and so did Harvey Milk, but there are so many more stories out there needing to be heard, needing your art to rise to cultural legitimacy. Brokeback Mountain was not enough. We need more.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Favorite Flower
Here is an entirely trivial thing- I have finally decided what my favorite flower is. Not conclusively, but I'm pretty certain.
I will always love daffodils, because they're the bright heralds of spring and my mother's favorite. I'll love violets and buttercups for similar reasons- they remind me of the spring afternoons of childhood. Daisies represent the best of Bryn Mawr for me, and are fabulously easy to draw. Black Eyed Susans make me smile- as do yellow orchids and roses and... well, let's face it, prettymuch every yellow flower.
But my favorite, I have come to realize, is the yellow primrose. The kind you find sold at the grocery store on the display next to the apple cider. Colorful and unprepossessing and incredibly dramatic. I like high maintenance plants that let me know how they're feeling, particularly when they respond so quickly and joyfully to attention and water and sunlight.
I will always love daffodils, because they're the bright heralds of spring and my mother's favorite. I'll love violets and buttercups for similar reasons- they remind me of the spring afternoons of childhood. Daisies represent the best of Bryn Mawr for me, and are fabulously easy to draw. Black Eyed Susans make me smile- as do yellow orchids and roses and... well, let's face it, prettymuch every yellow flower.
But my favorite, I have come to realize, is the yellow primrose. The kind you find sold at the grocery store on the display next to the apple cider. Colorful and unprepossessing and incredibly dramatic. I like high maintenance plants that let me know how they're feeling, particularly when they respond so quickly and joyfully to attention and water and sunlight.
I think that if I were a domesticated flower I would be a primrose.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Idealism
A fantasy writer wrote that women are more likely to read fiction because they're prone to being idealists. They aren't content with unhappy endings.
We need cynical pragmatism too, but isn't it important for some of not to accept "that's the way it is"? Otherwise, how would anything ever change?
We need cynical pragmatism too, but isn't it important for some of not to accept "that's the way it is"? Otherwise, how would anything ever change?
"Lesbian"
I am not a lesbian. Nor am I bisexual or straight. I reject those categories and labels. Mostly.
It would be more accurate to say that I wish I could reject those labels. I wish saying "queer" was as simple and powerful as I believe it can be. A label that's a rejection of labels can be difficult to explain.
More to the point, I struggle with the fact that I wish I was a lesbian. People know what that means, I know what that means, it's a definite category with a definite community. It's a strong place to stand. And even though I use the term queer and believe in that term, I find myself sometimes reassuring people that I'm "really" a lesbian, that saying queer instead is an activist stance. And that's not true. I am not attracted only to women, I just wish I were. I'm much more attracted to women, and not interested in men romantically, but... I'm not a lesbian. I feel this means I'm not a full member of the community, that I'll always be facing bi-phobia, that I have no right to speak up as a queer because I am not a full member of this otherized community.
No wonder so many who can't fit into that category end up pretending to be straight. It's tough and unrewarding, being in this gray area. Maybe that's why I'm so intent on making it a spectrum instead of a binary structure. It's repressive, and hurtful, and it impacts ALL of us. We shouldn't HAVE to be either Lesbian or Straight, or Gay or Straight, or take up the struggle of declaring ourselves Bisexual. Endorsing this binary hurts ALL of us.
And another thing, how obnoxious is it that even I would use phrase "pretending to be straight". Sexuality is fluid, but everyone out of the closet cringes at the idea that it's "just a phrase". I am TERRIFIED of the idea that I might date a man, enter into a male/female relationship, become a "girl" again. I don't want to be a straight woman, and if I was acting out that role in my life how could I be anything else? What a lot of crap!
In being a Queer activist I am fighting for myself, yes. But not only for myself. Here is a thing that is broken, and I will not let that stand.
It would be more accurate to say that I wish I could reject those labels. I wish saying "queer" was as simple and powerful as I believe it can be. A label that's a rejection of labels can be difficult to explain.
More to the point, I struggle with the fact that I wish I was a lesbian. People know what that means, I know what that means, it's a definite category with a definite community. It's a strong place to stand. And even though I use the term queer and believe in that term, I find myself sometimes reassuring people that I'm "really" a lesbian, that saying queer instead is an activist stance. And that's not true. I am not attracted only to women, I just wish I were. I'm much more attracted to women, and not interested in men romantically, but... I'm not a lesbian. I feel this means I'm not a full member of the community, that I'll always be facing bi-phobia, that I have no right to speak up as a queer because I am not a full member of this otherized community.
No wonder so many who can't fit into that category end up pretending to be straight. It's tough and unrewarding, being in this gray area. Maybe that's why I'm so intent on making it a spectrum instead of a binary structure. It's repressive, and hurtful, and it impacts ALL of us. We shouldn't HAVE to be either Lesbian or Straight, or Gay or Straight, or take up the struggle of declaring ourselves Bisexual. Endorsing this binary hurts ALL of us.
And another thing, how obnoxious is it that even I would use phrase "pretending to be straight". Sexuality is fluid, but everyone out of the closet cringes at the idea that it's "just a phrase". I am TERRIFIED of the idea that I might date a man, enter into a male/female relationship, become a "girl" again. I don't want to be a straight woman, and if I was acting out that role in my life how could I be anything else? What a lot of crap!
In being a Queer activist I am fighting for myself, yes. But not only for myself. Here is a thing that is broken, and I will not let that stand.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Good Intentions
The book Good Omens tells us that the road to hell is paved not with good intentions but with frozen used car salesmen. I find this immeasurably reassuring.
Human beings are not perfect. We make mistakes, we don't think things through all the way, we work with an incomplete knowledge of circumstances. We also tend to be pretty quick to jump on the defensive.
I am bothered by the current debate on facebook about the breast cancer awareness campaign that has run viral through the social networking site.
It took me a bit to figure out why. At first I thought it was guilt- I had, after all, posted my non-bra color (I was wearing a tank top that day) as my status, though I hadn't passed the message along about why I'd done so. I'd even thought about going and putting on a bra just so I could post something ridiculous and appropriate to my sexy self. My grandmother and some of my former campers are facebook friends with me, however, so I resisted temptation.
No, I realized, it wasn't guilt. Or even embarrassment. I'm not a particularly private person, though I wish I could be myself and still have my personal life private, and this particular form of activism was something I was comfortable with. I've seen images of the bras decorated by artists to create awareness, I remember the time a Bryn Mawr group filled our campus center with bras for this very reason. Bras are a classic symbol of feminist activism, and have come to have meaning for the fight against breast cancer.
So. I hear the criticism- that breast cancer affects those who do not wear bras. That it's an obnoxiously gender specific campaign enforcing a gender binary we disagree with. That it's perhaps annoying voyeuristic.
Yet in my head what I see is whoever started this campaign. And I wonder. Why? Were they an idealist or being pragmatic (or, let's allow the possibility), obnoxious? They've certainly made people think about breast cancer, and that was supposedly the point. The critiques that have been made are part of an important debate and open the door for meaningful discussion.
Has whoever began this seen the critiques? Are they embarrased and disillusioned, or excited to have been the spark for discourse? What have they said to their friends, and their friends said to them, over the last couple of days? Are they pleased and proud, or angry and hurt?
The anonymity of the internet can be very frustrating, and things can so easily become what they were never meant to be.
I think whoever began this had good intentions, and I don't think anything has gone to hell.
Whoever you are, I salute you.
Oh, and black lace, in case you're curious.
Human beings are not perfect. We make mistakes, we don't think things through all the way, we work with an incomplete knowledge of circumstances. We also tend to be pretty quick to jump on the defensive.
I am bothered by the current debate on facebook about the breast cancer awareness campaign that has run viral through the social networking site.
It took me a bit to figure out why. At first I thought it was guilt- I had, after all, posted my non-bra color (I was wearing a tank top that day) as my status, though I hadn't passed the message along about why I'd done so. I'd even thought about going and putting on a bra just so I could post something ridiculous and appropriate to my sexy self. My grandmother and some of my former campers are facebook friends with me, however, so I resisted temptation.
No, I realized, it wasn't guilt. Or even embarrassment. I'm not a particularly private person, though I wish I could be myself and still have my personal life private, and this particular form of activism was something I was comfortable with. I've seen images of the bras decorated by artists to create awareness, I remember the time a Bryn Mawr group filled our campus center with bras for this very reason. Bras are a classic symbol of feminist activism, and have come to have meaning for the fight against breast cancer.
So. I hear the criticism- that breast cancer affects those who do not wear bras. That it's an obnoxiously gender specific campaign enforcing a gender binary we disagree with. That it's perhaps annoying voyeuristic.
Yet in my head what I see is whoever started this campaign. And I wonder. Why? Were they an idealist or being pragmatic (or, let's allow the possibility), obnoxious? They've certainly made people think about breast cancer, and that was supposedly the point. The critiques that have been made are part of an important debate and open the door for meaningful discussion.
Has whoever began this seen the critiques? Are they embarrased and disillusioned, or excited to have been the spark for discourse? What have they said to their friends, and their friends said to them, over the last couple of days? Are they pleased and proud, or angry and hurt?
The anonymity of the internet can be very frustrating, and things can so easily become what they were never meant to be.
I think whoever began this had good intentions, and I don't think anything has gone to hell.
Whoever you are, I salute you.
Oh, and black lace, in case you're curious.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Fishy Wishes
If fairy godmothers were a literal reality and you could request any set of skills or abilities or attributes, what would you ask for? I'm referring here to the fairytale name-day giving of gifts, when a child was told they would be fabulous at dancing or have really lovely red lips and nicely curled hair.
I've often wished I was musical. I'd love to be an amazing singer and guitar player, to be able to converse intelligently about string quartets and perhaps even have the skills to compose songs of my own. I just don't seem to have the attention span to learn a musical instrument, or the what-ever it is you need to become a good singer. Maybe I lack confidence and discipline as much as ability.
I don't want to be more physically attractive then I am, I'm intelligent enough for my own needs, and wisdom I think I'd rather earn then be handed. I wish I could fly, of course, but I've seen enough superhero movies to believe that would probably complicate things. I like being more honest then clever, have accepted that I'm a far better tactician then strategist, and don't particularly like the idea of someone else correcting my other personal flaws. Maybe it's silly to think the world needs a few incorrigible tactless empaths, but I'm mostly okay with being silly.
I do wish I was better at languages and had mythically impressive writing skills. Sometimes I think I am hopelessly lazy and unmotivated. But for the most part...
I like who I am. Isn't that what matters?
I've often wished I was musical. I'd love to be an amazing singer and guitar player, to be able to converse intelligently about string quartets and perhaps even have the skills to compose songs of my own. I just don't seem to have the attention span to learn a musical instrument, or the what-ever it is you need to become a good singer. Maybe I lack confidence and discipline as much as ability.
I don't want to be more physically attractive then I am, I'm intelligent enough for my own needs, and wisdom I think I'd rather earn then be handed. I wish I could fly, of course, but I've seen enough superhero movies to believe that would probably complicate things. I like being more honest then clever, have accepted that I'm a far better tactician then strategist, and don't particularly like the idea of someone else correcting my other personal flaws. Maybe it's silly to think the world needs a few incorrigible tactless empaths, but I'm mostly okay with being silly.
I do wish I was better at languages and had mythically impressive writing skills. Sometimes I think I am hopelessly lazy and unmotivated. But for the most part...
I like who I am. Isn't that what matters?
Friday, January 1, 2010
Journey Stories
In one of my grad school applications I had to write about several works of art/film/writing that shaped me. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings was high on the list.
I'm watching Return of the King (extended version) with my parents right now, and am as ever amazed by the depth of thought that has gone into this cultural classic. No doubt I could write a years worth of blog entries on that topic alone. Here is a brief frivolous list of my favorite quotes.
#3: "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!"- Sam, before he scoops Frodo up for the final push up Mount Doom (My other favorite Sam quotes are the ones referencing the fact that he's a gardener and what he yells as he runs up the stairs to rescue Frodo from the orcs).
#2: "If you want him, come and claim him!"- Arwen, daring the dark riders (ring wraiths) to step into her river so she can drown them.
#1: "I am no man!"- Eowyn, just before she fatally stabs the wraith who had informed her that no man could kill him.
I think we love journey stories because they help us to think about our lives as more than a series of moments. They remind us that we grow and change as we face challenges and build relationships and generally toddle along.
Thinking about this at New Years for obvious reasons- it's the traditional time for reflection, when we take the time to look at last year's journey and the year's journey to come. What fears have I overcome, new insecurities will I need to combat, skills have I gained?
I'm watching Return of the King (extended version) with my parents right now, and am as ever amazed by the depth of thought that has gone into this cultural classic. No doubt I could write a years worth of blog entries on that topic alone. Here is a brief frivolous list of my favorite quotes.
#3: "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!"- Sam, before he scoops Frodo up for the final push up Mount Doom (My other favorite Sam quotes are the ones referencing the fact that he's a gardener and what he yells as he runs up the stairs to rescue Frodo from the orcs).
#2: "If you want him, come and claim him!"- Arwen, daring the dark riders (ring wraiths) to step into her river so she can drown them.
#1: "I am no man!"- Eowyn, just before she fatally stabs the wraith who had informed her that no man could kill him.
I think we love journey stories because they help us to think about our lives as more than a series of moments. They remind us that we grow and change as we face challenges and build relationships and generally toddle along.
Thinking about this at New Years for obvious reasons- it's the traditional time for reflection, when we take the time to look at last year's journey and the year's journey to come. What fears have I overcome, new insecurities will I need to combat, skills have I gained?
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