There is no way to describe the euphoria everywhere I've been this week. A cosmic shift has taken place and we know it. I'm basking in it and I know we all want to bask in it for as long as we can. But basking can only be the beginning, not the end. I believe, as does Colin Powell, that Obama is a transformational leader. I would add that I believe his election in this moment of national crisis is a gift from God.
I also believe, as does Barack Obama, that power does not concede and that the road ahead for this country is a steep and rocky one. Gifts from God are not to be hoarded. They are meant to inspire us to generosity and compassion and courage. And courage will be needed in the months to come. This is no time to gloat, no time to let up. This is a time to stand up and fight. We no longer have the excuse that nothing can change in the current administration. We have seen the grass-roots at work and we have begun to remember that we can make a difference.
But just in case you doubt it, let me recommend a stirring documentary. Taking Root: The Vision of Wangari Maathai won the award for best documentary at this weekend's Asheville Film Festival. The film looks not only at her work in the Greenbelt Movement, but also her grass-roots democratic work for better government. I have admired Maathai for years, but I learned more about her courage, her commitment, her suffering on behalf of Kenya and her impact on that nation than I ever knew. Weaving Kenyan political history through the story of her life and work, the film highlights the enormous obstacles she had to overcome to do her work of planting trees to re-forest her native land. It's a must-see for anyone who cares about the environment. It reminds us in no uncertain terms that it is WE THE PEOPLE who must save our land. We cannot wait for the government to do it. We are the ones we have been waiting for.
And, not to boast too much, but can I just say that seeing this film was the highlight of a wonderful weekend in a beautiful city? Honestly, I do live in the nicest place ever. The River Arts District Studio Stroll was this weekend and I met a fabulous artist who inspired me with her faith, as well as with her beautiful work. The Film Festival brought to town a host of independent movies that, unfortunately, probably won't be making it to your local multi-plex. My new neighborhood night club had a fun, funky dance band Friday night and my son's neighborhood school had a sweet, playful Fall Festival that made lots of money for our Title I school, which needs it, while demonstrating work on our cob shed in our organic garden. Plus, the weather has been just dog-gone beautiful.
OK, back to basking while I sweep the leaves off my deck.
Showing posts with label environment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label environment. Show all posts
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Waves
Whenever I go to the ocean and spend a few hours diving in the waves, as I did last week, I am reminded of how much they have taught me. Occasionally you see somebody out in the surf who is clearly a newcomer to waves. Again and again they stand in the way of them and get smacked down. Now, if getting hit in the chest and head and back by powerful walls of frothy salt water is your thing, then go right on standing there and getting smacked. There are certainly worse ways to spend a day. Personally, I prefer to face waves in a few other ways: diving over, diving under, moving out beyond them or riding them in. Of course, each way holds its own life lessons.
Diving over is tricky and only works if you catch it just before the big break. You have to know your wave and decide whether you have the traction on the sand shifting beneath you to make the leap. This way involves risk and quick judgement and the willingness to get a huge faceful of froth. But done right, it can result in a very pleasant floating, flopping ride to the other side.
Diving under is the easiest thing. Just put your arms over your head and face the wave and plunge straight in the the heart of it. But if you've never done it before, it looks scary. It's only once you've tried it that you understand that the quietest place in the surf is directly underneath the biggest waves. Ah yes, the old "there's no way out but through" philosophy.
Getting out beyond the waves usually means putting yourself rather far out into the ocean, which only works if you like being in the ocean over your head and trust that you have the strength to swim back in, even if a rip tide is pulling you farther out. To get beyond the waves you have to take a few in the face first, or try the diving under and over techniques often enough to get good at both. Beyond the waves can be choppy or peaceful and you are never guaranteed a wave-free existence, but what a place to hang out and enjoy the vastness of the universe. The risk is in straying too far from shore, but the pay-off is excellent.
Riding them in is the most fun of all but requires a willingness to eat some sand, scrape your knees on shells and occasionally feel as if you may be ripped apart. It also requires great patience in finding just the right wave to ride and catching it at just the right moment as the wall of water tips forward, but before the actual crest. But when you catch a great body surfing rise -- ah! What a rush!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
High horse update
Caught some of "Living on Earth" tonight on the ride home from grandma's where my sick boy spent the day instead of being at school. Presidential debate on climate change. All candidates, both parties, invited. Three showed up: Dennis, Hillary and pretty-boy Johnny. Tonight they featured the comments of the latter. And ya know what? He inspired me! I mean, I actually got teary-eyed listening to the guy. He was really good. I may have to re-consider my position on him.
See? I can change my mind.
See? I can change my mind.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Difficult Dialogues, part 1
Several events in the past week have me thinking about how we talk about Important Issues. There was an unpleasant conversation with my son's teacher and principal. There was a controversial play and follow-up comments both on the blog and in real life.
And there was a thread of comments on another blog where I was accused of "intellectual dishonesty." Granted, I had been on my high horse, but as it is a horse to which I have dedicated some of my professional time and much of my a-vocational energy to over the past ten years, it is a horse to which I am particularly committed. The topic was climate change and the commenter was defending the "nay-sayers" in part by suggesting that those of us who are astounded that nay-sayers still exist don't really know what we're talking about. I have no doubt that I have read, thought and worked on this issue considerably more than said commenter, but pointing this out would have been both rude and unhelpful. So I let it go and the blog-owner came in with her own delicately stated and thoughtful response, as she is wont to do.
So ... I'm thinking about conversations about the things that really matter to us. I mean REALLY matter and on which not everyone agrees. For example, I do not know how to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Honestly, I don't. I care deeply about the secure existence of Israel. And I believe strongly that buildling a wall, demolishing homes and farms and cutting off economic security for Palestinians is wrong. To me, holding these three truths together makes sense. I can care about Israel and not know how to solve the problems and know something wrong when I see it. Tonight, our church had an advent wreath-making time. Another woman present had also seen the Rachel Corrie play.
She: I find it hard to be impartial on this topic.
Me: Why would you want to be?
She: Well, there were Jewish people there who seemed very angry.
Me: Well, there are people who get very angry when I protest the Iraq war, but that doesn't mean that I need to change my convictions and become impartial about the war. I think the demolitions are wrong.
She: Some people would say suicide bombing is wrong.
Me: (thinking: some people? duh!)
Me (speaking): Yes, suicide bombing is wrong. But the connection is illogical. If only the houses of suicide bombers were being demolished, then perhaps that argument would have some validity, but demolishing hundreds of homes of people who are only connected by association is still wrong. It doesn't address the real problems that exist in the region; it merely makes them worse by literally walling them off.
There was more to the conversation, but you get the drift. Now, let me give some personal history. I have a severe case of WASPishness. I am a blond, blue-eyed, Protestant, well-educated mid-westerner, who could have joined the DAR had I wanted to. (I didn't). Both sides of the family can be traced back to colonial times, with relatives from England, France, Germany, Holland and probably more -- but all northern, western European and all here long enough to be thoroughly mixed together. I grew up in a small community with two industries: making fire-bricks from the local clay pits and hog farming. I do not exaggerate when I say that I had never met a Jewish person until I arrived at college. Given the diversity with which I have lived for the last 20+ years, this now shocks me, but it is nonetheless true.
So you might imagine how thrillingly exotic it was for me when I joined a college boyfriend at his home near DC for Passover. His large, extended family was there and I don't think his mother was particularly pleased that my waspy little ass had joined them. But the rest of the family were delightful. I learned much in my two days there. For example, they didn't just sip from the wine cup four times during the Haggadah. They drank four glasses of wine! A gorgeous, red-haired cousin stood up during the answering of one of the questions to give an impassioned, feminist mid-rash on the women who saved Moses' butt so that he could go on to get all the glory. I loved her!
Early on, his liberal New York relatives were discussing Israeli politics in the kitchen when his Orthodox sister and her family arrived, fresh from Israel and the kibbutz where they lived. Right away the liberals started in on the kibbutz dwellers, daring them to defend some recent action of the Israeli government. "Oh, shit," my friend whispered to me, "Let's get out of here before this place explodes." And he ushered me away, but not before I got a whiff of the diversity around that family table.
In the years since, I've continued to listen for that diversity. I'm glad that PJ piped in that she finds it anti-semitic to claim all Jews walk in lock-step or are too sensitive to withstand criticism. That's the kind of thing I can't really say from my cultural position, but it makes sense to me. It does seem to me that to give in to censorship in fact feeds the conspiracy theories of the all-powerful Jewish lobby controlling America.
When I stayed on the West Bank, I befriended a couple of the Arabic staff at the place I stayed. I would stay up late with them, drinking and listening to them quote Kahlil Gibran at length. They LOVE that guy. We talked about our families and poetry and education and religion and sometimes politics. I was shocked when, one night, one of them matter-of-factly stated something about how Jews run everything in America. I quickly jumped in and told them that this was only propaganda they had been fed and tried to give them as many real-life examples of how it wasn't true as popped into my head. They looked at me like I was stupid. They really couldn't believe that I was so blind, so naive, so ignorant of the workings of my own country. After a few minutes more of protest I realized I was making no head-way and shut up. It was a moment of realization of how deeply our fears can shape our beliefs.
We all have blind-spots. I have ideas where some of mine may be lurking, but they are blind-spots precisely because I can't see them. We all have the responsibility to wake up as much as we are able and to live with an awareness and maturity that allows for our short-comings, while still holding firmly to our convictions. We have a responsibility to listen carefully and respond compassionately when we disagree. But one of the things that saddens me the most about our country today (and, oh, there are so, so many things) is the willful blindness born of a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. We simply don't want to see the truth of our actions on the world. We don't want to believe there is a connection between our lifestyles and extreme suffering in other parts of the world or our foreign policy and the continued growth of terrorism.
How do we have these conversations? How do we speak difficult truths? Or more to the point, how do we learn to hear them? To be continued ...
And there was a thread of comments on another blog where I was accused of "intellectual dishonesty." Granted, I had been on my high horse, but as it is a horse to which I have dedicated some of my professional time and much of my a-vocational energy to over the past ten years, it is a horse to which I am particularly committed. The topic was climate change and the commenter was defending the "nay-sayers" in part by suggesting that those of us who are astounded that nay-sayers still exist don't really know what we're talking about. I have no doubt that I have read, thought and worked on this issue considerably more than said commenter, but pointing this out would have been both rude and unhelpful. So I let it go and the blog-owner came in with her own delicately stated and thoughtful response, as she is wont to do.
So ... I'm thinking about conversations about the things that really matter to us. I mean REALLY matter and on which not everyone agrees. For example, I do not know how to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Honestly, I don't. I care deeply about the secure existence of Israel. And I believe strongly that buildling a wall, demolishing homes and farms and cutting off economic security for Palestinians is wrong. To me, holding these three truths together makes sense. I can care about Israel and not know how to solve the problems and know something wrong when I see it. Tonight, our church had an advent wreath-making time. Another woman present had also seen the Rachel Corrie play.
She: I find it hard to be impartial on this topic.
Me: Why would you want to be?
She: Well, there were Jewish people there who seemed very angry.
Me: Well, there are people who get very angry when I protest the Iraq war, but that doesn't mean that I need to change my convictions and become impartial about the war. I think the demolitions are wrong.
She: Some people would say suicide bombing is wrong.
Me: (thinking: some people? duh!)
Me (speaking): Yes, suicide bombing is wrong. But the connection is illogical. If only the houses of suicide bombers were being demolished, then perhaps that argument would have some validity, but demolishing hundreds of homes of people who are only connected by association is still wrong. It doesn't address the real problems that exist in the region; it merely makes them worse by literally walling them off.
There was more to the conversation, but you get the drift. Now, let me give some personal history. I have a severe case of WASPishness. I am a blond, blue-eyed, Protestant, well-educated mid-westerner, who could have joined the DAR had I wanted to. (I didn't). Both sides of the family can be traced back to colonial times, with relatives from England, France, Germany, Holland and probably more -- but all northern, western European and all here long enough to be thoroughly mixed together. I grew up in a small community with two industries: making fire-bricks from the local clay pits and hog farming. I do not exaggerate when I say that I had never met a Jewish person until I arrived at college. Given the diversity with which I have lived for the last 20+ years, this now shocks me, but it is nonetheless true.
So you might imagine how thrillingly exotic it was for me when I joined a college boyfriend at his home near DC for Passover. His large, extended family was there and I don't think his mother was particularly pleased that my waspy little ass had joined them. But the rest of the family were delightful. I learned much in my two days there. For example, they didn't just sip from the wine cup four times during the Haggadah. They drank four glasses of wine! A gorgeous, red-haired cousin stood up during the answering of one of the questions to give an impassioned, feminist mid-rash on the women who saved Moses' butt so that he could go on to get all the glory. I loved her!
Early on, his liberal New York relatives were discussing Israeli politics in the kitchen when his Orthodox sister and her family arrived, fresh from Israel and the kibbutz where they lived. Right away the liberals started in on the kibbutz dwellers, daring them to defend some recent action of the Israeli government. "Oh, shit," my friend whispered to me, "Let's get out of here before this place explodes." And he ushered me away, but not before I got a whiff of the diversity around that family table.
In the years since, I've continued to listen for that diversity. I'm glad that PJ piped in that she finds it anti-semitic to claim all Jews walk in lock-step or are too sensitive to withstand criticism. That's the kind of thing I can't really say from my cultural position, but it makes sense to me. It does seem to me that to give in to censorship in fact feeds the conspiracy theories of the all-powerful Jewish lobby controlling America.
When I stayed on the West Bank, I befriended a couple of the Arabic staff at the place I stayed. I would stay up late with them, drinking and listening to them quote Kahlil Gibran at length. They LOVE that guy. We talked about our families and poetry and education and religion and sometimes politics. I was shocked when, one night, one of them matter-of-factly stated something about how Jews run everything in America. I quickly jumped in and told them that this was only propaganda they had been fed and tried to give them as many real-life examples of how it wasn't true as popped into my head. They looked at me like I was stupid. They really couldn't believe that I was so blind, so naive, so ignorant of the workings of my own country. After a few minutes more of protest I realized I was making no head-way and shut up. It was a moment of realization of how deeply our fears can shape our beliefs.
We all have blind-spots. I have ideas where some of mine may be lurking, but they are blind-spots precisely because I can't see them. We all have the responsibility to wake up as much as we are able and to live with an awareness and maturity that allows for our short-comings, while still holding firmly to our convictions. We have a responsibility to listen carefully and respond compassionately when we disagree. But one of the things that saddens me the most about our country today (and, oh, there are so, so many things) is the willful blindness born of a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. We simply don't want to see the truth of our actions on the world. We don't want to believe there is a connection between our lifestyles and extreme suffering in other parts of the world or our foreign policy and the continued growth of terrorism.
How do we have these conversations? How do we speak difficult truths? Or more to the point, how do we learn to hear them? To be continued ...
Friday, October 19, 2007
psssst ... Do something.
Just in case any of my readers don't get these messages sent to you already, I wanted to pass this one along. That nuclear is now lining up to be counted as green is a clear sign of the Orwellian world we live in.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
What I Did and Saw and Thought
What I Did:
*Hiked the Appalachian Trail along the French Broad River up to Lover's Leap for a gorgeous view.
*Soaked in the natural mineral springs hot tubs
*Enjoyed a lovely dinner on a deck overlooking a creek
*Read
*Journaled
*Slept deeply for 9 hours
*Hiked up Max Patch, which one book calls the best views on the entire AT and another calls the best views in NC (photo above doesn't come close to doing it justice).
What I Saw:
*The rocky, wide French Broad River
*Kayakers practicing in said river
*A smattering of bright red and yellow trees amidst the green views
*Couples hiking
*Families hiking
*Friends hiking
*Dogs hiking
*Wildflowers galore: buttery snapdragons, purple clover, goldenrod, milky Queen Ann's lace
*Native grasses
*At least six different kinds of butterflies
*Gargantuan grasshoppers
*Bumblebees
*Wild blackberries
*Cerulean skies
*cottony clouds
*360 degree views of mountains -- as far as the eye could see in every direction!
What I Thought:
*I don't need to wait for the right job, the right relationship, the right boss.
*I need to practice the difficult task of loving with a whole heart here and now.
*Today. Tomorrow. This is it. This is my life. This is not practice, but the real thing.
*And God is calling me to love.
Here is the reading my spiritual director gave me this week, before knowing of my most recent considerations about my job and boss:
I Wonder
by Derek Tasker
I wonder what would happen if
I treated everyone like I was in love
with them, whether I like them or not
and whether they respond or not and no matter
what they say or do to me and even if I see
things in them which are ugly twisted petty
cruel vain deceitful indifferent, just accept
all that and turn my attention to some small
weak tender hidden part and keep my eyes on
that until it shines like a beam of light
like a bonfire I can warm my hands by and trust
it to burn away all the waste which is not
never was my business to meddle with.
Source: Pilgrimage, An Exploration Into God, by Ivor Smith-Cameron
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Good Therapy
When in despair, turn to nature. (And God, of course, and the two are well connected, as we know). This afternoon I packed a picnic, then son and I headed out into the nearby wilderness to sit and watch an elk herd. Old guys with huge racks, young studs with sharp spikes, cows, calves, adolescent elk. The whole elk gamut. Wonderfully funny-looking creatures on their spindly legs, they nonetheless appeared majestic roaming across a verdant valley as the sun set over the world's oldest mountains. Son called it "an elkstravaganza".
If you've never heard an elk bugle, put it on your list of things to do. Good night, all.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Motor Oil and Vinegar
Just started reading Barbara Kingsolver's new book and I can't even get through the first chapter without wanting to share:
"A quick way to improve food-related fuel economy would be to buy a quart of motor oil and drink it. More palatable options are available. If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce, we would reduce our country's oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week. That's not gallons, but barrels. Small changes in buying habits can make big differences. Becoming a less energy-dependent nation may just need to start with a good breakfast."
--Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life
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