This past Saturday was pretty cool for me. While G^2 went off to a "Gardening with Northwest Native Plants" out at Cloud Mountain Farm, I participated along with a couple dozen or so others in "The Ceremony of 8,000 Sacred Drums" (Historical Reference). The ceremony took place at Maritime Heritage Park in Bellingham beginning at 10:45 am, led by Unci (Lakota: grandmother) Jan Super.
Unci Super and a half dozen or so others were there as I showed up with 3 of my drums, turtle rattle, and 3 of my flutes. Unci Super, fired up some sage and smudged us. She started us off with a heart beat rhythm, offering prayers, until 11:00. People kept drifting in, mostly in ones and twos. Members of the Lummi Tribe arrived with a powwow drum. I don't know if this is a tribal drum, but I had that impression. In any event, Unci Super welcomed it with appropriate fanfare.
Unci Super, sang a summoning song, calling in spirits from the four directions. She guided us to face each direction as she sang and we drummed with her. She told a story of a man, who while on a Hanblecheyapi (vision quest) had a vision. In his vision, he saw an arbor. At the east gate, he saw yellow flags for the yellow nations, the south had black flags for the black nations, the west white flags for the white nations, and the north red flags for the red nations. The arbor had been the sole province of the red nation but in his vision the man saw all the races of man within the arbor. (Note, I may have not gotten the colors associated with the proper gates as my memory for this kind of thing seems seriously flawed.)
The man took his vision to his elders seeking their guidance. After 4 days they bade him to go forth and follow his vision. Now, I'd heard this story about 10 years ago when I first embarked on my walk along the red road. Next, Unci Super, put a name to this man, "Martin High Bear". As she said his name a warm flush and tingle spread through my body. I felt a magnificent new sense of connection to Unci Super, the drumming, and the ceremony.
It was with great pleasure that I realized that Unci Super had a connection with Martin. I only have a distant connection with him. Leon Stiffarm, who held the first sweat lodge I attended, and others appear to have known Martin personally. Martin was responsible in part for opening Native American ceremonies to others outside the red nation. So I am personally indebted to him and his followers for the leadership they've provided that has allowed me to share a spiritual path that resonates with me.
As the ceremony continued, a couple of the Lummi women who accompanied the powwow drum, sang at Unci Super's behest. Unci Super, sang more, said prayers and led us all in a dance. She asked several time's if people had songs to share, one woman offered a song that was totally unknown to me, I couldn't even tell what language she was singing in. She was across the circle from me, far enough that with the drums accompanying her I wasn't really able to make out her song in any detail. I wanted very badly to offer a song. The best I could do thought was to tell Unci Super that there was a Lakota Thanksgiving song that was sang in lodge that I loved to sing but couldn't lead. Fortunately, Unci Super knew the song and led it. I did my best to sing with her though as with so many of the songs I have been exposed to my memory seemed to fail me and I was far enough away from her that I had difficulty following her lead.
The ceremony concluded with several minutes of heart beat rhythm. I pulled out a couple of my flutes and played a couple quick runs as a personal offering in appreciation of the ceremony and to satisfy my ego needs for attention. A couple approached me about the flutes and I got the opportunity to promote Miguel's and his flutes with them. I had to excuse myself from talking with them as Unci Super was getting ready to depart. I thanked her for mentioning Martin High Bear and asked her if she knew of any lodges that would welcome someone such as myself. She said that her lodge would welcome me. So I gave her my number and email address. She said that she would begin work soon to bring the lodge into order. I told her I would be interested in helping her to get the lodge up and running. So now I am waiting for a call or email to join in the effort.
I was very pleased that all my drums were used in the ceremony. A couple of women showed up early on sans drums and I was able to offer my extras. I didn't really interact with many of the participants. I was impressed that their seemed to be a fairly wide range of folks. Women seemed to be the most numerous distinct group. They seemed diverse in thier makeup otherwise. It was very cool. I am indebted to the person who sent me an invitation though I have no notion of who she is nor how she came to include me in her invitation. So I feel blessed to have been a part of the whole event.
I returned home to G^2 grateful for my path, my life. Later, after a bit of begging G^2 agreed to accompany me to the drumming group I've been doing monthly since leaving my job at Marianne's House. The group is comprised of members of the Max Higbee Center, an organization supporting the developmentally handicapped community in Bellingham, Washington.
It was the largest gathering for drumming since I began offering the group. Every drum and most of the percussion instruments in my big black bag were in use for most of the hour that we were there. The folks I drum with there are vary greatly in their abilities but seem united in spirit. They respond exceptionally well to my buffoonery and teasing. Drumming provides many opportunities to share in community experience denied many of these folks in their everyday existence.
I wish I could have captured the joy and exuberance that developed during our hour together and share that with you all. Yeah, it isn't great music, but somehow it sounded good to me. When I think back on the faces I witnessed as various people stood to take charge of the group I am brought to tears. So I got to act the clown, drum and watch others blissfully share in an event that I helped bring about. It was a damned good evening and afterwards G^2 and I supped at Supon's, which I suspect may be the best Thai food in Bellingham.
It was a very good day. Mitakue Oyasin.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Musings
Well, judging by my long absence from the blogosphere, blogging is not a deeply ingrained or urgent activity. I have actually thought on several occasions that I wanted to blog about some topic or another. But I was unable to overcome the feeling that my efforts would have the net effect of pissing into the wind. It seems largely pointless to write when I have little if any real audience. On the other hand, I desperately want to make some difference in the world.
I have been giving a lot of thought these past few years about my life. I most often end up visualizing my self as an infinitesimal point in an infinitely large and wondrous universe. This is not a bad description. Regardless of how small I might be in the grander scheme of things, the whole would not be the same whole if I were not here. So in this sense, I define the whole just as it defines me. We have this mutual thing going: Mitakue Oyasin ( All my relations).
There is a lot of comfort in those thoughts. Yet, there is another avenue of thought which proves to be troubling for me. In this visualization, I am a hapless bit of flotsam tossed about in the time-stream of existence. Emotionally, I feel as if I have no control. Intellectually, I believe that control is illusory.
Mostly, I can't seem to find anything that seems like ambition or chosen direction within me. The material world for the most part has little draw for me. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy my creature comforts and have an obscenely large collection of things attached to me. But when I think about these comforts and things for any length of time I recognize that in large part I could live, not as comfortably, but nonetheless live without almost all of it.
It bothers me to think that in large part I have a similar relationship to people as I have with things. In this case though, my people world is decidedly less crowded than my things world. At present, my people world consist of four people. G^2(my partner/wife), my daughters P & J, and Mom. Oh, I have other family and know other people, but when it comes right down to it these are the only people that I share any significant part of myself with.
It bothers me that I have no functioning social group. Yes, there are people out there that I count as friends and feel strongly towards, Brenda, Miguel and Peter. Yet in truth, we shared a very narrow range of experience together, primarily sharing ourselves at the sweat lodge. I see my friends rarely since moving from Portland. In the 2 plus years that we've been in Bellingham/Ferndale, I have yet to make any new friends, numerous acquaintances, but no friends.
Honestly, friends have been a rarity in my life. People have pretty much come and gone in my life, touching me, even changing me some, but none have remained close and connected. This is no doubt due to a very introspective and possibly narcissistic personality on my part. I can't seem to maintain a long term outward focus.
Clearly I am adrift, my thoughts wandering to and fro as I write this. When I started I'd thought that I should just write and see what came out. Not surprising that, in part a sense of lonely has come to the fore. I suspect that my longing for connection will most likely go unfulfilled as I am unlikely to undergo some trans-formative experience which will alter my fundamental pattern of being.
I did want to talk a bit about my want to have some direction in my life. What I am talking about here is actually more than a direction. What I am looking for is a Passion, an Obsession, something that drives me forward. I am suddenly struck by the irony of what I am asking for, in the sense that I have never felt as if I was in control of my life and here I am asking for something to take control away from me and drive me.
I am a dabbler! I paint. I draw. I write. I act. I drum. I play flutes. I do lots and lots of things. None of the particularly well. I enjoy doing them but I am not compelled to do any of them. I am not compelled to excel at anything. I suspect that fear of failure may be at the root of my lack of compulsion to excel. Maybe, I am truly just too lazy.
I am not happy with my lack of drive, because I want my life to amount to something more than just existence. Although, I do think it is pretty cool that the universe wouldn't be the same if I weren't here. I want my existence to have some larger impact on the universe. I suppose that is ambition, so I guess I do have it. So I am coming full circle once again. Leading me back to that mantra which plagues me and pushes me up against my fear, my angst. "Show Up!" "Show Up!"
I have been giving a lot of thought these past few years about my life. I most often end up visualizing my self as an infinitesimal point in an infinitely large and wondrous universe. This is not a bad description. Regardless of how small I might be in the grander scheme of things, the whole would not be the same whole if I were not here. So in this sense, I define the whole just as it defines me. We have this mutual thing going: Mitakue Oyasin ( All my relations).
There is a lot of comfort in those thoughts. Yet, there is another avenue of thought which proves to be troubling for me. In this visualization, I am a hapless bit of flotsam tossed about in the time-stream of existence. Emotionally, I feel as if I have no control. Intellectually, I believe that control is illusory.
Mostly, I can't seem to find anything that seems like ambition or chosen direction within me. The material world for the most part has little draw for me. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy my creature comforts and have an obscenely large collection of things attached to me. But when I think about these comforts and things for any length of time I recognize that in large part I could live, not as comfortably, but nonetheless live without almost all of it.
It bothers me to think that in large part I have a similar relationship to people as I have with things. In this case though, my people world is decidedly less crowded than my things world. At present, my people world consist of four people. G^2(my partner/wife), my daughters P & J, and Mom. Oh, I have other family and know other people, but when it comes right down to it these are the only people that I share any significant part of myself with.
It bothers me that I have no functioning social group. Yes, there are people out there that I count as friends and feel strongly towards, Brenda, Miguel and Peter. Yet in truth, we shared a very narrow range of experience together, primarily sharing ourselves at the sweat lodge. I see my friends rarely since moving from Portland. In the 2 plus years that we've been in Bellingham/Ferndale, I have yet to make any new friends, numerous acquaintances, but no friends.
Honestly, friends have been a rarity in my life. People have pretty much come and gone in my life, touching me, even changing me some, but none have remained close and connected. This is no doubt due to a very introspective and possibly narcissistic personality on my part. I can't seem to maintain a long term outward focus.
Clearly I am adrift, my thoughts wandering to and fro as I write this. When I started I'd thought that I should just write and see what came out. Not surprising that, in part a sense of lonely has come to the fore. I suspect that my longing for connection will most likely go unfulfilled as I am unlikely to undergo some trans-formative experience which will alter my fundamental pattern of being.
I did want to talk a bit about my want to have some direction in my life. What I am talking about here is actually more than a direction. What I am looking for is a Passion, an Obsession, something that drives me forward. I am suddenly struck by the irony of what I am asking for, in the sense that I have never felt as if I was in control of my life and here I am asking for something to take control away from me and drive me.
I am a dabbler! I paint. I draw. I write. I act. I drum. I play flutes. I do lots and lots of things. None of the particularly well. I enjoy doing them but I am not compelled to do any of them. I am not compelled to excel at anything. I suspect that fear of failure may be at the root of my lack of compulsion to excel. Maybe, I am truly just too lazy.
I am not happy with my lack of drive, because I want my life to amount to something more than just existence. Although, I do think it is pretty cool that the universe wouldn't be the same if I weren't here. I want my existence to have some larger impact on the universe. I suppose that is ambition, so I guess I do have it. So I am coming full circle once again. Leading me back to that mantra which plagues me and pushes me up against my fear, my angst. "Show Up!" "Show Up!"
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Rick Warren, The Inauguration and appropriate response.
I am in a minority. Yeah, I am white, male, and middle class, but that is not the minority I am talking about at this moment. Come to think of it though, the minority I think I am in might not actually be a minority. It could actually be a majority but an unrecognized one or perhaps just silent. The minority I am thinking about is the community of the spiritual but non-religious.
It has been a long haul to where I am spiritually. Most of my life lacked faith in anything but that the world was full of pain and injustice, and that I was powerless to do anything about it. I am better now.
First, I found gratitude. Gratitude for my life. It was a small beginning but upon it I was able to build an appreciation for the wonders of the world that surround me. From there I was able to recognize that while there is still pain and injustice in the world, there are powers that are far more powerful, Love, Respect, Charity, Hope , Unity, and more. That when these powers are rolled together they are the foundations of Faith and a belief in something greater. The Faith becomes a recognition that we are all parts of an infinite whole and that the whole is greater than the sum of us. My faith I have come to refer to as Creator.
This subject came up for me a couple weeks ago and I was outraged to say the least as I listened to the controversy about Rick Warren and the role Obama was giving him in the inauguration. At first that it was the anti-gay stance that he represented. As I heard more I came to realize that it is really the intolerance of the evangelical movement in general that I abhor.
The bottom line is that in this country anyone's faith is a personal matter. Rick Warren should not be given a forum in this inauguration which will raise his public presence. Obama wants to be inclusive; fine, find someone who is open to all faiths and let him/her do the invocation.
So I object to Rick Warren on the grounds that we can not tolerate purveyors of intolerance in our public spectacles. Since Obama is unlikely to reverse this decision on my account or anyone else that has objected. I am left with only one recourse; to find a way to express my displeasure. I won't be in Washingon but I do intend to spend the day watching the inauguration on television.
It occurred to me that both I and the public should have a way to display our displeasure with this intolerant man. This display should be simple non-violent and blatantly obvious. As I imagined various possibilities, it came to me that if every person who finds Rick Warrens intolerance intolerable were to turn in silence his/her back to Mr. Warren while he speaks, it would deliver a most effective protest.
So, when the time comes and Rick Warren steps to the podium to deliver his invocation. I will be standing at home with my back turned to Mr. Warren's image on my TV, listening, but demonstrating my disdain for the intolerance that he exhibits.
It has been a long haul to where I am spiritually. Most of my life lacked faith in anything but that the world was full of pain and injustice, and that I was powerless to do anything about it. I am better now.
First, I found gratitude. Gratitude for my life. It was a small beginning but upon it I was able to build an appreciation for the wonders of the world that surround me. From there I was able to recognize that while there is still pain and injustice in the world, there are powers that are far more powerful, Love, Respect, Charity, Hope , Unity, and more. That when these powers are rolled together they are the foundations of Faith and a belief in something greater. The Faith becomes a recognition that we are all parts of an infinite whole and that the whole is greater than the sum of us. My faith I have come to refer to as Creator.
This subject came up for me a couple weeks ago and I was outraged to say the least as I listened to the controversy about Rick Warren and the role Obama was giving him in the inauguration. At first that it was the anti-gay stance that he represented. As I heard more I came to realize that it is really the intolerance of the evangelical movement in general that I abhor.
The bottom line is that in this country anyone's faith is a personal matter. Rick Warren should not be given a forum in this inauguration which will raise his public presence. Obama wants to be inclusive; fine, find someone who is open to all faiths and let him/her do the invocation.
So I object to Rick Warren on the grounds that we can not tolerate purveyors of intolerance in our public spectacles. Since Obama is unlikely to reverse this decision on my account or anyone else that has objected. I am left with only one recourse; to find a way to express my displeasure. I won't be in Washingon but I do intend to spend the day watching the inauguration on television.
It occurred to me that both I and the public should have a way to display our displeasure with this intolerant man. This display should be simple non-violent and blatantly obvious. As I imagined various possibilities, it came to me that if every person who finds Rick Warrens intolerance intolerable were to turn in silence his/her back to Mr. Warren while he speaks, it would deliver a most effective protest.
So, when the time comes and Rick Warren steps to the podium to deliver his invocation. I will be standing at home with my back turned to Mr. Warren's image on my TV, listening, but demonstrating my disdain for the intolerance that he exhibits.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Pissed!
I am weary. The fear of failure that I somehow developed long ago in my childhood has worn me down. Any ambition that I once had has been gone for a long time now. In the past few weeks, I have wanted to write but just couldn't get myself to commit the time and energy to it. It was easier to let myself mindlessly chase illusions in FreeCiv.
I want to write because my fears are running high. I feared that my country would continue on the abhorrent path that it has been pursuing for at least the past 8 years. I might have been able to tolerate McCain but the idea of Sarah Palin one heartbeat from the Presidency absolutely terrorized me.
And I am ANGRY.
I AM Angry that my patriotism and love of country was being indirectly challenged by right wing ideologues in their denouncements of Michelle Obama for at last finding something truly worthy of respect in her political experience of America, of Reverend Jeremiah Wright for angrily finding fault with the America of his experience, and of William Ayers for having taken a stand against his own country in a matter of conscience. Being free to dissent from the commonly accepted beliefs about our nation is a fundamental principle and freedom upon which this very nation is founded. That people should be judged as somehow lacking in patriotism for exercising this right infuriates me!
Was Ayers a "terrorist" or a "patriot" and is calling him a "terrorist" just the most convenient way to dehumanize and dismiss him. Violence as a way of obtaining goals of any kind is repugnant to me, but evidently not to G.W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Paul Wolfowitz.
(God, I just found out that Wolfowitz, got his PHd in Political Science at the University of Chicago in 1972. I think I'm gonna be sick. Maybe if I'd been more radical and the least bit prone to violence and very prescient, I could have wacked him at the graduation ceremony and saved the country from entering another fucking war! It really makes me think that I have to re-think my time at the U of C. I was only aware of the leftist political groups, probably because they were the most vocal and publicly visible. Clearly, the extreme right was there too. Me, I was mostly apolitical, as I have been most of my life. Politics just plain makes my skin crawl. I feel incredibly dirty after being around it for even short periods of time.)
I AM Angry at the attempts to utilize guilt by association in an attempt to demonize Barack Obama.
I AM Angry that racism is still a blatant reality in MY country.
I am angry that our leaders and their cronies demonize and dehumanize our enemies. The very act of doing so serves only to justify the barbarism of our actions. How is a missile strike that kills innocent civilians any the less abhorrent than suicide bomber detonating him/herself among a bunch of innocents. How does losing thousands innocent lives in the world trade towers justify the tens of thousand of lives that have been and are being taken in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I can't help but wonder that if our forefathers had failed in their effort to establish this nation wouldn't they have been judged as terrorists by history. Weren't the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki or the Dresden Fire bombing acts of terrorism? Is a declaration of war all that it takes to redefine terrorism?
It is terrible that some people feel compelled to use violence to obtain what they want in the world. I don't see much difference between the likes of Osama bin Laden and George W. Bush and their cronies. Bush's actions have led to considerably more death and destruction than anything that bin Laden and Al Qaeda have managed. Don't get me wrong. I do believe that those who use violence are legitimate targets for responsive violence. I just haven't been able to make the connection between Iraq and Al Qaeda since before the war started.
I guess the sum of all this is that I am angry because I feel so helpless. We elect a new leader, Barak Obama, and I get that he wants to make nice and not continue the incessant and useless partisan political bickering and posturing that have been the American poliical experience for as long as I can remember. But what he fails to understand is that we the American people have been violated, virtually raped, during the past 8 ¥ears. Yes, Al Qaeda, was responsible for some of that, but the more pernicious violations have been perpetrated upon us by Bush, Cheney, the rest of the neo-cons, and the abdominal greed of the people in positions of trust and power.
I want accountability! I want Justice! I want Vengeance! And I am afraid that there is none of that left in the world that I live in.
I want to write because my fears are running high. I feared that my country would continue on the abhorrent path that it has been pursuing for at least the past 8 years. I might have been able to tolerate McCain but the idea of Sarah Palin one heartbeat from the Presidency absolutely terrorized me.
And I am ANGRY.
I AM Angry that my patriotism and love of country was being indirectly challenged by right wing ideologues in their denouncements of Michelle Obama for at last finding something truly worthy of respect in her political experience of America, of Reverend Jeremiah Wright for angrily finding fault with the America of his experience, and of William Ayers for having taken a stand against his own country in a matter of conscience. Being free to dissent from the commonly accepted beliefs about our nation is a fundamental principle and freedom upon which this very nation is founded. That people should be judged as somehow lacking in patriotism for exercising this right infuriates me!
Was Ayers a "terrorist" or a "patriot" and is calling him a "terrorist" just the most convenient way to dehumanize and dismiss him. Violence as a way of obtaining goals of any kind is repugnant to me, but evidently not to G.W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Paul Wolfowitz.
(God, I just found out that Wolfowitz, got his PHd in Political Science at the University of Chicago in 1972. I think I'm gonna be sick. Maybe if I'd been more radical and the least bit prone to violence and very prescient, I could have wacked him at the graduation ceremony and saved the country from entering another fucking war! It really makes me think that I have to re-think my time at the U of C. I was only aware of the leftist political groups, probably because they were the most vocal and publicly visible. Clearly, the extreme right was there too. Me, I was mostly apolitical, as I have been most of my life. Politics just plain makes my skin crawl. I feel incredibly dirty after being around it for even short periods of time.)
I AM Angry at the attempts to utilize guilt by association in an attempt to demonize Barack Obama.
I AM Angry that racism is still a blatant reality in MY country.
I am angry that our leaders and their cronies demonize and dehumanize our enemies. The very act of doing so serves only to justify the barbarism of our actions. How is a missile strike that kills innocent civilians any the less abhorrent than suicide bomber detonating him/herself among a bunch of innocents. How does losing thousands innocent lives in the world trade towers justify the tens of thousand of lives that have been and are being taken in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I can't help but wonder that if our forefathers had failed in their effort to establish this nation wouldn't they have been judged as terrorists by history. Weren't the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki or the Dresden Fire bombing acts of terrorism? Is a declaration of war all that it takes to redefine terrorism?
It is terrible that some people feel compelled to use violence to obtain what they want in the world. I don't see much difference between the likes of Osama bin Laden and George W. Bush and their cronies. Bush's actions have led to considerably more death and destruction than anything that bin Laden and Al Qaeda have managed. Don't get me wrong. I do believe that those who use violence are legitimate targets for responsive violence. I just haven't been able to make the connection between Iraq and Al Qaeda since before the war started.
I guess the sum of all this is that I am angry because I feel so helpless. We elect a new leader, Barak Obama, and I get that he wants to make nice and not continue the incessant and useless partisan political bickering and posturing that have been the American poliical experience for as long as I can remember. But what he fails to understand is that we the American people have been violated, virtually raped, during the past 8 ¥ears. Yes, Al Qaeda, was responsible for some of that, but the more pernicious violations have been perpetrated upon us by Bush, Cheney, the rest of the neo-cons, and the abdominal greed of the people in positions of trust and power.
I want accountability! I want Justice! I want Vengeance! And I am afraid that there is none of that left in the world that I live in.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Its been a while
My last blog was June 1st, over 2 months ago. At that time I was reporting my about attending my first political fund-raiser. I have to report that my foray into the world of political activism came to an abrupt halt not long after my previous blog.
I am feeling disappointed in myself, yet I suspect that I made the best choice for myself. I don't know if I imagined, concocted, or just misinterpreted Creator's guidance about this undertaking. I know that my blood pressure was becoming increasingly erratic. That peoples responses to my ideas appeared to be that I was naive and too idealistic. My sense of it was that some people needed to act NOW! My plodding tortoise style did not fit the hare style that some felt was needed in response to what they saw as a crisis time.
It was just so far beyond my comfort level that when someone chose to complete a task that I had told them I would take care of, after having explicitly asked them to back off and let me do the job I was being asked to do, I chose to bail out of the whole thing. I hate being a quitter, a failure. It is not how I like to think of myself. I was very angry at the time. I've wondered if allowing myself to chose the course I did was the best thing. I haven't any answers.
In the middle of June, Gail and I received a letter from the property management company handling the duplex we live in, announcing a rent increase and demanding that we sign another years lease. For some reason, it really ticked Gail off and after she talked to them about it she was even madder. Now Gail is generally very even tempered when stuff like this comes up, I tend to be the really irrational one. I find myself wondering if her anger was her way of generating the energy to overcome any fears she might have about buying a home. Having been down the homeowner path 3 times before I was definitely the follower to Gail's lead as we began looking for a new home.
I have little use for apartment living, although, the duplex we've been in the past year and 7 months has proven to be largely pleasant. We have way too much stuff and are consequently cramped beyond what I like. On the other hand, being a home owner is not all that it is cracked up to be. I have little interest in lawn care or home maintenance.
Still I want more space. I keep thinking that if I just have the room, I'll be able to paint, do woodwork, sculpt, make pottery. When I am honest with myself I acknowledge that I am a dreamer much more than a doer. So the need for space is mostly just an excuse for not doing. I have the software and computing tools to do a variety of creative activities. I've got dozens of musical instruments, video camera, paints and stuff. I have been told that I am very creative and artistic. What I seem to be lacking is the drive to actually do anything. Yet I seem to be busy a good deal of the time.
In the past several months I've expended huge amounts of time playing Free Civ. It really perplexes me that I will engage in this activity for hours on end, yet will not pursue the activities that I claim to want to do. I can't fail to notice that the precious time left me on this plane is passing it seems ever more quickly. Is my reluctance, my malaise really because I feel that I have nothing of any real value to contribute? Is it because nothing I've done measures up to some arbitrary standards that I've set? Is it because I have no passion or faith left in me? Is it that I am just lazy?
I guess that is why my thoughts come around to serving others. At least if I am in service to others then everything is not about me. A topic that I am frankly bored with and have little hope of ever reaching a good accord with. Anyway, Gail's desire and will to find us a new home came at a good time for me. It has helped me to keep a lot of my negative soul searching and musings somewhat at bay.
Now we are waiting to see if the house we've selected from the dozen plus that we looked at is going to become ours. Actually, the banks, but we get to live in it and pay over a half a million over the next 30 years or so for the privilege. Damn, that muscle in my back is spasming, the one that I think of as containing my negativity and stress.
Jeane aka Nova Dawn (my youngest daughter) stopped by to visit on her way to Vancouver. She was in tow with Talia Rose, a Sun Dancer and woman, whom Jeane identifies as a mentor, friend, and spiritual guide. Talia's son, Jeremiah, completed the entourage. Now, I must admit that I am skeptical of psychics/mediums/channelers and the like but Talia carries with her the title Sun Dancer. Her devotion was made plain to me when she invited me to share her pipe and morning ceremony. In recent years I have come to respect those who dance for the people. I have not had the courage to step up and endure the suffering that they have. Still, I have come to know that being a Sun Dancer does not mean that these people are without fault nor free from the negative.
Talia offered me a reading as we waited for our meals to be delivered at the Old Town Cafe in Bellingham last Saturday. Now I had spoken freely with Talia about many topics in the few hours before she offered to do the reading. Enough so that much of what she told me in the reading came as no surprise and fit with my general assessment of such readings as primarily an integration of bits and pieces of personal information given to the reader through conversation and behavior run through a generalized model of human behavior/aspiration in a form of feedback loop assessment. Intellectual assessment aside I was much more interested in my emotional reactions. As I listened I felt myself teetering on the edge of tears wanting to hear something that would unequivocally answer my most pressing questions.
Talia's reading certainly fed my ego and was inspirational as I suspect it was intended to be, my skeptical self thought. Since Talia is a Sun Dancer, I want to give her reading the respect that I accord her sacrifice, but it is hard to believe when I also know that part of how Talia supports herself is through giving readings such as this for money, though she gifted this reading to me hence it was free from any monetary influence. I have no doubt that there are people out there who have vision and Talia may very well be such a person.
I have a hard time remembering things these days. Talia said a bunch, much more than I had expected. The basics where that my path is to use my art to communicate stories that need to be told. I am not doing her much service here as it was much fuller than that. My hope is that Jeane will be able to help me remember more and will perhaps talk about this in her blog.
I want to take a moment to talk about Jeane and myself. She and I are so much alike that it hurts sometimes. Her self doubt is so much akin to my own that I wonder if it is genetic or is it just that she grew up with me as her father. She asked to borrow an auto harp that I have. I was reluctant to lend it to her, so I offered up some conditions on lending it. This upset and angered her. Her response to me left me feeling hurt as well.
In her self denigration I see myself and I feel responsible for failing to parent her in a way that would allow her to be free of the fears that have plagued me throughout my life. I see in Jeane the same far ranging imagination and intelligence that I grew up with, the same passion for principles, justice, compassion and the same fears of not fitting in, of not being good enough. I do not want her to be where I am when she is my age. I do not want her to be floundering and asking what the hell purpose does she have in life.
I believe my daughters are far better people than I am, smarter, more talented and gifted, more generous, giving, loving, etc. I am proud of my daughters and I love them without reservation.
So once again I am at a loss as to what path I should follow. My thoughts keep coming back to being of service to others, yet I have no sense of how I should go forward.
I am feeling disappointed in myself, yet I suspect that I made the best choice for myself. I don't know if I imagined, concocted, or just misinterpreted Creator's guidance about this undertaking. I know that my blood pressure was becoming increasingly erratic. That peoples responses to my ideas appeared to be that I was naive and too idealistic. My sense of it was that some people needed to act NOW! My plodding tortoise style did not fit the hare style that some felt was needed in response to what they saw as a crisis time.
It was just so far beyond my comfort level that when someone chose to complete a task that I had told them I would take care of, after having explicitly asked them to back off and let me do the job I was being asked to do, I chose to bail out of the whole thing. I hate being a quitter, a failure. It is not how I like to think of myself. I was very angry at the time. I've wondered if allowing myself to chose the course I did was the best thing. I haven't any answers.
In the middle of June, Gail and I received a letter from the property management company handling the duplex we live in, announcing a rent increase and demanding that we sign another years lease. For some reason, it really ticked Gail off and after she talked to them about it she was even madder. Now Gail is generally very even tempered when stuff like this comes up, I tend to be the really irrational one. I find myself wondering if her anger was her way of generating the energy to overcome any fears she might have about buying a home. Having been down the homeowner path 3 times before I was definitely the follower to Gail's lead as we began looking for a new home.
I have little use for apartment living, although, the duplex we've been in the past year and 7 months has proven to be largely pleasant. We have way too much stuff and are consequently cramped beyond what I like. On the other hand, being a home owner is not all that it is cracked up to be. I have little interest in lawn care or home maintenance.
Still I want more space. I keep thinking that if I just have the room, I'll be able to paint, do woodwork, sculpt, make pottery. When I am honest with myself I acknowledge that I am a dreamer much more than a doer. So the need for space is mostly just an excuse for not doing. I have the software and computing tools to do a variety of creative activities. I've got dozens of musical instruments, video camera, paints and stuff. I have been told that I am very creative and artistic. What I seem to be lacking is the drive to actually do anything. Yet I seem to be busy a good deal of the time.
In the past several months I've expended huge amounts of time playing Free Civ. It really perplexes me that I will engage in this activity for hours on end, yet will not pursue the activities that I claim to want to do. I can't fail to notice that the precious time left me on this plane is passing it seems ever more quickly. Is my reluctance, my malaise really because I feel that I have nothing of any real value to contribute? Is it because nothing I've done measures up to some arbitrary standards that I've set? Is it because I have no passion or faith left in me? Is it that I am just lazy?
I guess that is why my thoughts come around to serving others. At least if I am in service to others then everything is not about me. A topic that I am frankly bored with and have little hope of ever reaching a good accord with. Anyway, Gail's desire and will to find us a new home came at a good time for me. It has helped me to keep a lot of my negative soul searching and musings somewhat at bay.
Now we are waiting to see if the house we've selected from the dozen plus that we looked at is going to become ours. Actually, the banks, but we get to live in it and pay over a half a million over the next 30 years or so for the privilege. Damn, that muscle in my back is spasming, the one that I think of as containing my negativity and stress.
Jeane aka Nova Dawn (my youngest daughter) stopped by to visit on her way to Vancouver. She was in tow with Talia Rose, a Sun Dancer and woman, whom Jeane identifies as a mentor, friend, and spiritual guide. Talia's son, Jeremiah, completed the entourage. Now, I must admit that I am skeptical of psychics/mediums/channelers and the like but Talia carries with her the title Sun Dancer. Her devotion was made plain to me when she invited me to share her pipe and morning ceremony. In recent years I have come to respect those who dance for the people. I have not had the courage to step up and endure the suffering that they have. Still, I have come to know that being a Sun Dancer does not mean that these people are without fault nor free from the negative.
Talia offered me a reading as we waited for our meals to be delivered at the Old Town Cafe in Bellingham last Saturday. Now I had spoken freely with Talia about many topics in the few hours before she offered to do the reading. Enough so that much of what she told me in the reading came as no surprise and fit with my general assessment of such readings as primarily an integration of bits and pieces of personal information given to the reader through conversation and behavior run through a generalized model of human behavior/aspiration in a form of feedback loop assessment. Intellectual assessment aside I was much more interested in my emotional reactions. As I listened I felt myself teetering on the edge of tears wanting to hear something that would unequivocally answer my most pressing questions.
Talia's reading certainly fed my ego and was inspirational as I suspect it was intended to be, my skeptical self thought. Since Talia is a Sun Dancer, I want to give her reading the respect that I accord her sacrifice, but it is hard to believe when I also know that part of how Talia supports herself is through giving readings such as this for money, though she gifted this reading to me hence it was free from any monetary influence. I have no doubt that there are people out there who have vision and Talia may very well be such a person.
I have a hard time remembering things these days. Talia said a bunch, much more than I had expected. The basics where that my path is to use my art to communicate stories that need to be told. I am not doing her much service here as it was much fuller than that. My hope is that Jeane will be able to help me remember more and will perhaps talk about this in her blog.
I want to take a moment to talk about Jeane and myself. She and I are so much alike that it hurts sometimes. Her self doubt is so much akin to my own that I wonder if it is genetic or is it just that she grew up with me as her father. She asked to borrow an auto harp that I have. I was reluctant to lend it to her, so I offered up some conditions on lending it. This upset and angered her. Her response to me left me feeling hurt as well.
In her self denigration I see myself and I feel responsible for failing to parent her in a way that would allow her to be free of the fears that have plagued me throughout my life. I see in Jeane the same far ranging imagination and intelligence that I grew up with, the same passion for principles, justice, compassion and the same fears of not fitting in, of not being good enough. I do not want her to be where I am when she is my age. I do not want her to be floundering and asking what the hell purpose does she have in life.
I believe my daughters are far better people than I am, smarter, more talented and gifted, more generous, giving, loving, etc. I am proud of my daughters and I love them without reservation.
So once again I am at a loss as to what path I should follow. My thoughts keep coming back to being of service to others, yet I have no sense of how I should go forward.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
To Sheep or Not to Sheep
Last night was another first for me. I attended my first political party fund raiser. Needless to say I dressed up for the occasion, blue jeans instead of sweat pants. I wasn't exactly surprised to find that I appeared to be the only one wearing a stylish tie-dyed tee shirt. My only real competition color wise was a woman wearing a rather large orange and white floral print or at least she was the only one of whom I was cognizant. It was comforting to note later in the evening that the guy sitting behind me out of my view was another long hair only he was dressed to the hilt in biker leathers.
Fashion aside, I deliberated hard and long on what I was going to wear to this event. Do I cave to social expectations that have been implanted in me since birth and conform or do I behave as I've chosen for the past years and dress for my own comfort. I wear sweats most of the time these days for the simple reason that I am obese. Much to my beloved Gail's chagrin, I have absolutely no desire to conform to any expectations regarding the garb I wear, save that it be relatively clean. Getting hung up on or even thinking about fashion or what is appropriate garb is something that I have no interest in whatsoever.
I do on the other hand, like to attract attention, at least so it seems. The choice of the tie dye was also a deliberate one; not entirely for the reasons that one might think though; reasons which actually have to do with why I was attending a political fund raiser for the first time in my life.
Since the caucuses in February, I have been increasingly attending to the political happenings in our country. I have also been aware of my increasing frustration with the erosion of personal liberty, lack of respect for human rights, failure to provide real stewardship of our world, and the list goes on that marks the abysmal political leadership I have witnessed throughout my adult life. The only and I mean only President (of those who've been in charge since I became aware that there were Presidents) that I have any respect for is Jimmy Carter, whom I know many may regard as a presidential failure, largely due to forces that I believe where well beyond his influence, much less control. I have a child's perspective on President Kennedy, whose assassination and it's impact on my life are more reflective of the sorrow expressed within our nation than any true comprehension of his real accomplishments or lack thereof. His challenge to get us to the moon was truly inspiring and "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country" seems to be near the root of any political belief that I have.
In recent years, as I have sat in the sweat lodge or out walking in nature, I have repeatedly prayed to Creator for guidance in how I should conduct my life. I have asked for help in recognizing his guidance and in keeping my heart, mind, and soul open to his answers. As I have heard no ethereal voices nor witnessed any burning bushes, I have come to understand that the guidance he will be delivering is by way of the things that attract my attention, pull me towards them. Thus it was with the caucus and things political in the past few months.
I have been noticing a much more extroverted me these past few months. I can't seem to stop talking with people. Having people express their appreciation for my leadership at the caucus caught my attention. I made jokes about just having a loud voice and other self denigrating remarks as is my usual reaction to public attention, something I crave yet abhor. In any case it caught my attention, so I began thinking that this must be the direction Creator intends for me. Now, I know that I may well be full of proverbial excrement, but that's they way my mind works these days. I am the tool, Creator is the artist.
So all this brings me back to why I was at this fund raiser. You see, as a delegate to the county convention, I received a newsletter from the county democrat party organization. In there, was an little note tucked away near the end that they had need of volunteer and office coordinators. I found myself coming back to that announcement repeatedly. My spiritual mantra, "Show up!", began pounding in my head whenever I thought of it. I was pretty sure that Creator was letting me know he'd like me to lend a hand. I very cautiously extended my feelers out into the world, inquiring via e-mail and phone about the expectations of the job. I had to do this a few times, quickly retracting into my shell, whenever it scared me too much. The pressure to "Show up!" kept building though, so I finally found myself meeting with the county democrat party chair person.
As I listened to her speak about what they needed, I was overwhelmed with a sense of envy and guilt. I envied that she could give so much of her time and energy to a cause/passion and guilt that I had not. I am not sure exactly how, if or when I actually agreed to take on the role of volunteer coordinator but apparently I did, because I started working on things we talked about and she began introducing me as the new volunteer coordinator. I am really terrified that I am in this position but that is what "Show up!" is all about. I am overwhelmed at my lack of basic knowledge of the political process, issues, personalities, etc. I haven't got a clue how to do this but I have to "Show up!"
So that's why I was at the fund raiser in my tie dyed tee shirt. I am the new volunteer coordinator for the county democrat organization. The tie dyed shirt was to make me a clear and easy target should anyone need to talk to me. "Oh, you want to volunteer! Well, you see that guy in the tie dyed tee shirt, he's the one you want to talk to." It turned out that no one sought me out.
Gail and I talked with a couple Dave and Jane (Porter, I believe), who provided us with a wealth of history regarding our new home, Whatcom county. I attempted to plant some seeds there for some future volunteer activities from them. They've been active in the past but are taking a sort of look and see posture as their candidate didn't make it to the semi-finals.
Then there was Polly Hanson, a beautiful septuagenarian, whose eyes radiated life and whose stories brought me extreme envy and admiration. Polly reminds me of Mom in some respects; she runs a bed and breakfast on Lummi Island. Gail has said that we have to go stay there!
We met some new folks eating at the table with us but due to the program were not able to talk much. Interestingly enough, I'd previously met two of our dinner companions, one at a democrat thing and the other at drumming/singing classes that I took at the Bellingham Unitarian Fellowship last month.
So this brings me round to the final topic of this blog. Governor Greqoire was the keynote speaker for the fund raiser. She walked by our table when she arrived. All around me people surged to their feet and began applauding. I sat there dumbfounded and very uncomfortable, asking myself "Why are we expected to pay homage to this person?" Throughout the remainder of the evening the audience burst into clapping or surged from their seats at all the pregnant pauses various politicians dangled before them. I sat there caught up in an internal dialog about why I was fighting against these social expectations.
On our way out from the dinner, we rode the elevator down with the woman who recently took over the reins of the Obama grassroots organization in the county and who has stepped up to be the Campaign Coordinating Committee chair. Among several things, I expressed some of what I was thinking and feeling about the behaviors of the crowd upstairs. When I said that I found it impossible to stand when the Governor came in and that it felt wrong to do so. She asked if I would stand if Obama entered the room. My answer was probably not. Her justification for the behavior was that it was a sign of respect for the person and what they had accomplished.
Now I know that showing respect and approval is ultimately the reason behind such displays as applause, and standing is a notch up on the respect meter. The problem for me is that I generally don't feel that respect and approval towards politicians or too many other people for that matter. The truth for me is that Governor Gregoire, Representative Larson, and the others who appeared at the dinner to schmooze, inspire, communicate, or what ever are virtually unknown to me. I do not know them as people. I do not know them as being worthy of my respect, approval, and especially my adoration.
It seems to me that there is a distinction between courtesy and respect that comes into play in all this. I like to think that I show courtesy to all people. Courtesy is the base behavior that I think we should exhibit to our fellow beings. Respect though seems to be something that is more reserved. It is something very personal, very powerful. It is given and yet must be earned. Given too lightly and respect loses its value, its meaning. Withholding where it is due is another problem.
Oddly, a few minutes talking with Polly and Maggie Hanson (one of the 5 honored democrats acknowledged at the fund raiser, don't know if she and Polly are related), convinced me that they were truly worthy of my respect even my adoration and that neither of them were in need of my approval. I am acutely uncomfortable with the notion that people who rise to positions of power and influence in our society should automatically be accorded respect. I have met a variety of people in the course of my life who have been in such positions for whom I have absolutely no respect.
Perhaps I should be able to see the "accomplishments" of such individuals as sufficient justification for respect but frankly with the spin doctors, media pundits and just your good old herd mentality arrayed out there to tell me what to think and do, I believe I am better off withholding my respect until I am personally able to feel it due to someone.
Gail told me that what I said to Sue Ellen, the Obama coordinator, was expressed in an attacking manner. As soon as Gail said that I knew that it was true in the sense that I was feeling defensive. The behavior of guests at the fund raiser was not the problem, they are after all entirely within their rights to demonstrate respect for anyone they wish. The problem is that I don't necessarily share their feelings and that their collective behavior brings forth the demons pressing me to conform to acceptable social behavior. So to Sue Ellen, an apology, and to myself an admonition to be less ready to express myself when my demons are running amok.
Fashion aside, I deliberated hard and long on what I was going to wear to this event. Do I cave to social expectations that have been implanted in me since birth and conform or do I behave as I've chosen for the past years and dress for my own comfort. I wear sweats most of the time these days for the simple reason that I am obese. Much to my beloved Gail's chagrin, I have absolutely no desire to conform to any expectations regarding the garb I wear, save that it be relatively clean. Getting hung up on or even thinking about fashion or what is appropriate garb is something that I have no interest in whatsoever.
I do on the other hand, like to attract attention, at least so it seems. The choice of the tie dye was also a deliberate one; not entirely for the reasons that one might think though; reasons which actually have to do with why I was attending a political fund raiser for the first time in my life.
Since the caucuses in February, I have been increasingly attending to the political happenings in our country. I have also been aware of my increasing frustration with the erosion of personal liberty, lack of respect for human rights, failure to provide real stewardship of our world, and the list goes on that marks the abysmal political leadership I have witnessed throughout my adult life. The only and I mean only President (of those who've been in charge since I became aware that there were Presidents) that I have any respect for is Jimmy Carter, whom I know many may regard as a presidential failure, largely due to forces that I believe where well beyond his influence, much less control. I have a child's perspective on President Kennedy, whose assassination and it's impact on my life are more reflective of the sorrow expressed within our nation than any true comprehension of his real accomplishments or lack thereof. His challenge to get us to the moon was truly inspiring and "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country" seems to be near the root of any political belief that I have.
In recent years, as I have sat in the sweat lodge or out walking in nature, I have repeatedly prayed to Creator for guidance in how I should conduct my life. I have asked for help in recognizing his guidance and in keeping my heart, mind, and soul open to his answers. As I have heard no ethereal voices nor witnessed any burning bushes, I have come to understand that the guidance he will be delivering is by way of the things that attract my attention, pull me towards them. Thus it was with the caucus and things political in the past few months.
I have been noticing a much more extroverted me these past few months. I can't seem to stop talking with people. Having people express their appreciation for my leadership at the caucus caught my attention. I made jokes about just having a loud voice and other self denigrating remarks as is my usual reaction to public attention, something I crave yet abhor. In any case it caught my attention, so I began thinking that this must be the direction Creator intends for me. Now, I know that I may well be full of proverbial excrement, but that's they way my mind works these days. I am the tool, Creator is the artist.
So all this brings me back to why I was at this fund raiser. You see, as a delegate to the county convention, I received a newsletter from the county democrat party organization. In there, was an little note tucked away near the end that they had need of volunteer and office coordinators. I found myself coming back to that announcement repeatedly. My spiritual mantra, "Show up!", began pounding in my head whenever I thought of it. I was pretty sure that Creator was letting me know he'd like me to lend a hand. I very cautiously extended my feelers out into the world, inquiring via e-mail and phone about the expectations of the job. I had to do this a few times, quickly retracting into my shell, whenever it scared me too much. The pressure to "Show up!" kept building though, so I finally found myself meeting with the county democrat party chair person.
As I listened to her speak about what they needed, I was overwhelmed with a sense of envy and guilt. I envied that she could give so much of her time and energy to a cause/passion and guilt that I had not. I am not sure exactly how, if or when I actually agreed to take on the role of volunteer coordinator but apparently I did, because I started working on things we talked about and she began introducing me as the new volunteer coordinator. I am really terrified that I am in this position but that is what "Show up!" is all about. I am overwhelmed at my lack of basic knowledge of the political process, issues, personalities, etc. I haven't got a clue how to do this but I have to "Show up!"
So that's why I was at the fund raiser in my tie dyed tee shirt. I am the new volunteer coordinator for the county democrat organization. The tie dyed shirt was to make me a clear and easy target should anyone need to talk to me. "Oh, you want to volunteer! Well, you see that guy in the tie dyed tee shirt, he's the one you want to talk to." It turned out that no one sought me out.
Gail and I talked with a couple Dave and Jane (Porter, I believe), who provided us with a wealth of history regarding our new home, Whatcom county. I attempted to plant some seeds there for some future volunteer activities from them. They've been active in the past but are taking a sort of look and see posture as their candidate didn't make it to the semi-finals.
Then there was Polly Hanson, a beautiful septuagenarian, whose eyes radiated life and whose stories brought me extreme envy and admiration. Polly reminds me of Mom in some respects; she runs a bed and breakfast on Lummi Island. Gail has said that we have to go stay there!
We met some new folks eating at the table with us but due to the program were not able to talk much. Interestingly enough, I'd previously met two of our dinner companions, one at a democrat thing and the other at drumming/singing classes that I took at the Bellingham Unitarian Fellowship last month.
So this brings me round to the final topic of this blog. Governor Greqoire was the keynote speaker for the fund raiser. She walked by our table when she arrived. All around me people surged to their feet and began applauding. I sat there dumbfounded and very uncomfortable, asking myself "Why are we expected to pay homage to this person?" Throughout the remainder of the evening the audience burst into clapping or surged from their seats at all the pregnant pauses various politicians dangled before them. I sat there caught up in an internal dialog about why I was fighting against these social expectations.
On our way out from the dinner, we rode the elevator down with the woman who recently took over the reins of the Obama grassroots organization in the county and who has stepped up to be the Campaign Coordinating Committee chair. Among several things, I expressed some of what I was thinking and feeling about the behaviors of the crowd upstairs. When I said that I found it impossible to stand when the Governor came in and that it felt wrong to do so. She asked if I would stand if Obama entered the room. My answer was probably not. Her justification for the behavior was that it was a sign of respect for the person and what they had accomplished.
Now I know that showing respect and approval is ultimately the reason behind such displays as applause, and standing is a notch up on the respect meter. The problem for me is that I generally don't feel that respect and approval towards politicians or too many other people for that matter. The truth for me is that Governor Gregoire, Representative Larson, and the others who appeared at the dinner to schmooze, inspire, communicate, or what ever are virtually unknown to me. I do not know them as people. I do not know them as being worthy of my respect, approval, and especially my adoration.
It seems to me that there is a distinction between courtesy and respect that comes into play in all this. I like to think that I show courtesy to all people. Courtesy is the base behavior that I think we should exhibit to our fellow beings. Respect though seems to be something that is more reserved. It is something very personal, very powerful. It is given and yet must be earned. Given too lightly and respect loses its value, its meaning. Withholding where it is due is another problem.
Oddly, a few minutes talking with Polly and Maggie Hanson (one of the 5 honored democrats acknowledged at the fund raiser, don't know if she and Polly are related), convinced me that they were truly worthy of my respect even my adoration and that neither of them were in need of my approval. I am acutely uncomfortable with the notion that people who rise to positions of power and influence in our society should automatically be accorded respect. I have met a variety of people in the course of my life who have been in such positions for whom I have absolutely no respect.
Perhaps I should be able to see the "accomplishments" of such individuals as sufficient justification for respect but frankly with the spin doctors, media pundits and just your good old herd mentality arrayed out there to tell me what to think and do, I believe I am better off withholding my respect until I am personally able to feel it due to someone.
Gail told me that what I said to Sue Ellen, the Obama coordinator, was expressed in an attacking manner. As soon as Gail said that I knew that it was true in the sense that I was feeling defensive. The behavior of guests at the fund raiser was not the problem, they are after all entirely within their rights to demonstrate respect for anyone they wish. The problem is that I don't necessarily share their feelings and that their collective behavior brings forth the demons pressing me to conform to acceptable social behavior. So to Sue Ellen, an apology, and to myself an admonition to be less ready to express myself when my demons are running amok.
Friday, April 25, 2008
"arbeit macht frei"/"work makes (one) free"
Originally a novel title, "Arbeit macht frei", came to have much more sinister connotations after the Nazi's adopted it for their purposes and placed it above the entry gates of multiple concentration camps. It came to mind because I am struggling to understand and accept an idea which appears to be popular if not rampant in our society in general and more specifically the community which surrounds our developmentally disabled.
I want to make it clear from the outset that, I am coming at this issue as an outsider. I have not previously given this matter much thought, where as the people in the disabled community have very likely thought about it extensively. But for my own edification and as an invitation to others to put on their thinking caps, I'd like to ask why is there so much emphasis on work in American society. Further, why does the community supporting the developmentally disabled put so much emphasis on work?
Now, I have been a victim of the American work ethic for 40 plus years. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest afforded me with an early opportunity to become acquainted with work. Somewhere, in my early teens, I began working during harvest season picking strawberries, raspberries and beans. My first full time job was as a janitor at my high school the summer between my junior and senior years. My senior year of high school was the last period of my life in which I was not employed at least part time, save for time spent in school (a job of a different kind, and often including the aforementioned part time work), one extended 6 month period of unemployment in the mid 80's, and the odd month or so here and there, that followed being laid off, fired, or even quitting a job. All told, the total time I have not been working since high school can't be more than a couple of years; toss in another year to account for vacation time (probably too generous).
I also worked 25 years or so in high tech, as a computer geek of one kind or another. Conservatively, that means another 33% of my life was spent working overtime, so let's say, another 8 years of working time, to account for that. While I'm at it I might as well count the time I spent in school before college as a job, after all, it wasn't some thing I chose to do on my own, and it certainly is a form of work. So 12 years times three quarters of a year yields another 8 years. Adding it all up ... let's see ... 8 + 8 + 40(+) - 3 = 53 ... so 53 out of my 58 years seems to have been touched by work.
Alright, the numbers may not be entirely accurate, but I think it is clear that work in one form or another has consumed a huge portion of my existence. I acknowledge that others have it significantly worse than I have had it, but that is really kinda irrelevant to any point I want to make. Sleep is the only other activity that competes with work and I can pretty much assure you that it hasn't claimed nearly as much of my life as work.
So what is the point of talking about the role of work in my life. Simply this: I understand how it can come to dominate our thinking and how it can embed itself in our values systems.
We all know people whose whole definition of themselves appears to begin and end with their job. We are often those people. We all know of the stories of people who suddenly loose their job and with it their very identity and sometimes even will to live. These are the foundations of our social values and cultural myths about work. The American Puritan work ethic is a huge component of these foundations.
Like most social values and cultural myths they perpetuate themselves through the generations because they are revered and not subjected to any real critical examination.
I don't know if other people are really like me or not, but judging from the number of people that I've heard complain about their jobs over the course of my work life, there is a huge disconnect between the myths of work and the everyday reality of it. It seems to me that most people at best tolerate work as a survival requirement. I recognize that there are those odd few for whom work truly appears to be a pleasure.
For myself, work has been most often a life sucking activity that I have endured. This is not to say that I have not enjoyed moments of satisfaction, accomplishment, and occasionally success, in my work life. Some jobs have been significantly better than others. ALL, THOUGH, HAVE BEEN SOURCES OF STRESS; either because of the job or fear of losing the job or fear of not finding the job (Note: Ask your local unemployment office, finding a job is a job).
Given the above, it becomes extremely difficult for me to understand why the community surrounding the developmentally disabled are so enamored about placing their charges into the working world.
Yes, I understand that it can be a self-esteem booster, but that only make sense if one buys into the notion that one's worth is somehow predicated on work; a concept that I frankly abhor in a "normal" person and am unwonted to extend to anyone who already carries an extraordinary burden of challenges.
For those developmentally disabled who are cognizant of work in society, I can see that being able to participate in work can serve to diminish their alienation and sense of being different or apart.
The financial compensation that comes with work for the developmentally disabled seems unlikely to have a significant impact on their lives; though when many are living close to the margins of existence, any amount may actually be significant.
Ultimately, the question for me comes down to what purpose does work serve for the developmentally disabled. Is it something we impose upon them because every body SHOULD work? Do they just have to suffer along with the rest of us? Is it about them sharing the cost of their existence; making a contribution? In the final analysis, doesn't whether a developmentally disabled person works or not boil down to what is the best for that individual?
It is clear to me that there need to be safeguards, to prevent the exploitation of the developmentally disabled and insure their safety in the workplace, but that there should be no impediments to their inclusion in the workplace.
It is pointless to formulate one-size-fits-all policies, such as "Inclusion" or "Main Streaming" for the developmentally disabled when any rational person, who has even limited experience with the huge range of dysfunction and disability covered by the umbrella term "developmentally disabled", can see that many individuals will be needlessly harmed by such exposure. Predicating social/governmental/legal policy about work for the developmentally disabled on any thing other than individual need seems foolish to me.
Well, not nearly as cogent as I would like but I think I've touched on as many of the thoughts on this topic as I can remember having in the past couple weeks, since the topic came up for me. I'd really appreciate any feedback, thoughts, whatever that those of you who read this have on the topic. Maybe you'll discuss it with friends and get back to me with their thoughts.
Edify me!
Mitakuye Oyasin
I want to make it clear from the outset that, I am coming at this issue as an outsider. I have not previously given this matter much thought, where as the people in the disabled community have very likely thought about it extensively. But for my own edification and as an invitation to others to put on their thinking caps, I'd like to ask why is there so much emphasis on work in American society. Further, why does the community supporting the developmentally disabled put so much emphasis on work?
Now, I have been a victim of the American work ethic for 40 plus years. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest afforded me with an early opportunity to become acquainted with work. Somewhere, in my early teens, I began working during harvest season picking strawberries, raspberries and beans. My first full time job was as a janitor at my high school the summer between my junior and senior years. My senior year of high school was the last period of my life in which I was not employed at least part time, save for time spent in school (a job of a different kind, and often including the aforementioned part time work), one extended 6 month period of unemployment in the mid 80's, and the odd month or so here and there, that followed being laid off, fired, or even quitting a job. All told, the total time I have not been working since high school can't be more than a couple of years; toss in another year to account for vacation time (probably too generous).
I also worked 25 years or so in high tech, as a computer geek of one kind or another. Conservatively, that means another 33% of my life was spent working overtime, so let's say, another 8 years of working time, to account for that. While I'm at it I might as well count the time I spent in school before college as a job, after all, it wasn't some thing I chose to do on my own, and it certainly is a form of work. So 12 years times three quarters of a year yields another 8 years. Adding it all up ... let's see ... 8 + 8 + 40(+) - 3 = 53 ... so 53 out of my 58 years seems to have been touched by work.
Alright, the numbers may not be entirely accurate, but I think it is clear that work in one form or another has consumed a huge portion of my existence. I acknowledge that others have it significantly worse than I have had it, but that is really kinda irrelevant to any point I want to make. Sleep is the only other activity that competes with work and I can pretty much assure you that it hasn't claimed nearly as much of my life as work.
So what is the point of talking about the role of work in my life. Simply this: I understand how it can come to dominate our thinking and how it can embed itself in our values systems.
We all know people whose whole definition of themselves appears to begin and end with their job. We are often those people. We all know of the stories of people who suddenly loose their job and with it their very identity and sometimes even will to live. These are the foundations of our social values and cultural myths about work. The American Puritan work ethic is a huge component of these foundations.
Like most social values and cultural myths they perpetuate themselves through the generations because they are revered and not subjected to any real critical examination.
I don't know if other people are really like me or not, but judging from the number of people that I've heard complain about their jobs over the course of my work life, there is a huge disconnect between the myths of work and the everyday reality of it. It seems to me that most people at best tolerate work as a survival requirement. I recognize that there are those odd few for whom work truly appears to be a pleasure.
For myself, work has been most often a life sucking activity that I have endured. This is not to say that I have not enjoyed moments of satisfaction, accomplishment, and occasionally success, in my work life. Some jobs have been significantly better than others. ALL, THOUGH, HAVE BEEN SOURCES OF STRESS; either because of the job or fear of losing the job or fear of not finding the job (Note: Ask your local unemployment office, finding a job is a job).
Given the above, it becomes extremely difficult for me to understand why the community surrounding the developmentally disabled are so enamored about placing their charges into the working world.
Yes, I understand that it can be a self-esteem booster, but that only make sense if one buys into the notion that one's worth is somehow predicated on work; a concept that I frankly abhor in a "normal" person and am unwonted to extend to anyone who already carries an extraordinary burden of challenges.
For those developmentally disabled who are cognizant of work in society, I can see that being able to participate in work can serve to diminish their alienation and sense of being different or apart.
The financial compensation that comes with work for the developmentally disabled seems unlikely to have a significant impact on their lives; though when many are living close to the margins of existence, any amount may actually be significant.
Ultimately, the question for me comes down to what purpose does work serve for the developmentally disabled. Is it something we impose upon them because every body SHOULD work? Do they just have to suffer along with the rest of us? Is it about them sharing the cost of their existence; making a contribution? In the final analysis, doesn't whether a developmentally disabled person works or not boil down to what is the best for that individual?
It is clear to me that there need to be safeguards, to prevent the exploitation of the developmentally disabled and insure their safety in the workplace, but that there should be no impediments to their inclusion in the workplace.
It is pointless to formulate one-size-fits-all policies, such as "Inclusion" or "Main Streaming" for the developmentally disabled when any rational person, who has even limited experience with the huge range of dysfunction and disability covered by the umbrella term "developmentally disabled", can see that many individuals will be needlessly harmed by such exposure. Predicating social/governmental/legal policy about work for the developmentally disabled on any thing other than individual need seems foolish to me.
Well, not nearly as cogent as I would like but I think I've touched on as many of the thoughts on this topic as I can remember having in the past couple weeks, since the topic came up for me. I'd really appreciate any feedback, thoughts, whatever that those of you who read this have on the topic. Maybe you'll discuss it with friends and get back to me with their thoughts.
Edify me!
Mitakuye Oyasin
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