I'll get behind your plan as soon as you stand behind single payer health care.
As far as I can tell, I am being sold down the river by my party, the administration, and you, Mr. President. We, Progressives, have seen our country brought to virtual bankruptcy on so many fronts by the regressive policies of conservative and centrist elements in our country. It is time for the pendulum of justice and right to swing back.
The right has redefined the debate in my country so that our ideas are dismissed out of hand. I cannot sit by any longer and wait for moderation of right wing extremism. I want justice for all Americans. I want affordable comprehensive health care for all Americans.
The solution is pretty simple. Dismantle the massive American WAR Machine and use the savings to provide health care to the American people. Straight up and simple. Naive? Together we can do anything we choose. Isn't that your message of hope, Mr. President?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Five months to the day ...
So it has been 5 months to the day since I put up my last blog. Nearly half a year. I said before that I didn't think I was really cut out for this blogging thing. It was a pleasure though to go back and read my last blog. A couple of weeks ago I posted a note up on my Facebook wall. Granted it was a piece that I'd written almost 3 years ago that I'd come across while wading through the never ending paper deluge that follows me through life. It too, was a pleasure to read. I thought, you know not many people have seen this. Its good for a few sentimental tears. I should share it. To the best of my knowledge only my youngest daughter has seen it, or at least was the only one moved to comment on it. I know it's good when I read something that I wrote and it still brings a tear to my eye.
I guess I want the same response from my blog as I got from Bill Moody's eulogy or the letter I read at my eldest daughter's wedding. People came to me and shared their tears with me, letting me know that they could feel the love that I feel, that my words touched their hearts and minds.
I know that this blog reaches few readers. It's lack of regularity and iconoclastic focus no doubt don't help it to gain notoriety. I keep thinking that I need to communicate with more people. I know there have to be others out there that are as outraged and angry as I am. They're the people who I know I can reach because I've done it before.
I am like a lot of Americans, politics gives me the creeps. For the most part, I've thought politics doesn't seem to impact my life on a day to day basis. Yet, I am coming to realize that is not true. I've been paying attention to politics pretty intensely now for almost a year and a half. It started when I realized that in order to serve my community I had to actually involve myself in my community.
Initially, I did that by volunteering with my county democratic party organization. I found that I was not well suited to that degree of participation. I did not have the will to put up with bad behavior on the part of others. I wasn't willing to throw out my rationality or principles in the name of political expediency. On the other hand, I did find that at least some others thought I had some leadership skills and it has lead me to much more aware of just how much of my life is being impacted by politics in my country.
Unable to function in a political party environment effectively but knowing that I still needed to involve myself in my community, lead me to volunteer in an environment where I knew I would excel. I went back to elementary school! Finally, I was around folks that I could understand and provide some modicum of service to, first and second graders.
I expanded upon that by volunteering with a local community center providing socialization and recreational opportunities to special needs folks. A couple times a month, I take my collection of drums and other instruments to the center or a park and encourage these wonderful people to be loud and outrageous.
I was at a loss when school went out of session. Dropping from 12+ hours hanging with all those wonderful elementary types was tough. Fortunately, a Sun Dance at the end of June, provided me with a whole new opportunity to be of service. My wife and I traveled to near Dunseith, North Dakota.
There I had the great fortune to meet a fantastic community of people and to share a very spiritual five days supporting the Sun Dance. My experience as I slammed an ax into the tree that was to become "Lone Man" was awesome and lead to my commitment to fast with the dancers for the next four days. Due to health concerns, I did take water during the fast unlike my brothers and sisters who suffered without. It was an extraordinary few days.
Finally, arriving back home at the beginning of July, I was once again bereft of community engagement, aside from the couple of hours scheduled to work with the Max Higbee Center. Fortunately, my wife's desire to check out the Ferndale Farmer's market one Saturday lead to an encounter with a very energetic woman promoting the not too recently established Ferndale Community Resource Center (FCRC). A subsequent meeting lead to more meetings, so now I am engaged in helping to set up an Internet presence for the FCRC and donating some embroidery to its parent organization the Ferndale Community Service Cooperative (FCSC). There's been some talk of getting on the board's of one or both of these organizations.
The good news is that school starts in about 10 days. I've been told that I should contact the school in the middle of September after they have a better idea of their volunteer needs. Woohoo! Maybe I'll get to hang with Kindergartners along with the 1st and 2nd graders.
Still there is all this outrage and anger I am feeling. It stems from the very sick political machinations have and are being played out daily in our national politics. What Reagan, Bush I & II, Cheney and the Republican Party in particular have done to this county appalls me. The redistribution of wealth from the middle classes and poor to the obscenely wealthy, the disemboweling of the few legal protections we had by immoral, greedy corporate predators in the financial, energy, pharmaceutical, insurance and health care industries, to mention just some, truly sickens me.
The salaries, bonuses, and other rip offs that are being awarded to CEOs, CFOs, COOs and other management plutocrats in the corporate world is obscene, outrageous and without any valid justification. The good ole US of A is not the democracy that I loved. It is in fact a plutocracy or or tipping over into being one. Money talks and the people with all our money are the bankers who ripped us off big time with the financial crisis they created and it's the bail out; the health care industries, who feathered their beds to the tune of a thousand fold increase in their profits in the past 8 years alone; the oil barons who led us into a war in Iraq, lying to us all the way; the main stream media which is owned and controlled in-toto by corporate interests; and finally the lobbyist and bought and paid for politicians, who've facilitated this wholesale theft.
There is so much more beyond economics that we've lost in the past two generations. My parents were children of the depression. The social contract that FDR established with them, and Kennedy and Johnson extended is being torn apart by the people that Eisenhower warned us about.
I am outraged, angry and increasingly hopeless. Obama, today's great hope, appears to be selling us down the river, assisted by Rahm Emanual, the Blue Dogs, ConservaDems, the Republican Party and the obscene right wing media (Oh yeah it appears there is no real left wing media, unless you count the paltry few, The Nation, MSNBC, Air America, and PBS. Thank god for the left wing bloggers.) Fox News, Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck, and others the right have successfully entrenched in talk radio.
Having vented I don't feel any better. All I know is that I am doing what I can now. I am trying to stay informed about what is going on in politics and I AM SHOUTING AS LOUD AS I CAN TO ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN.
"Get involved, express yourself, write, call your Senator, Congressman, President, local political leaders, your neighbors, anyone who will listen. Take back our country from the plutocrats and crazies."
I guess I want the same response from my blog as I got from Bill Moody's eulogy or the letter I read at my eldest daughter's wedding. People came to me and shared their tears with me, letting me know that they could feel the love that I feel, that my words touched their hearts and minds.
I know that this blog reaches few readers. It's lack of regularity and iconoclastic focus no doubt don't help it to gain notoriety. I keep thinking that I need to communicate with more people. I know there have to be others out there that are as outraged and angry as I am. They're the people who I know I can reach because I've done it before.
I am like a lot of Americans, politics gives me the creeps. For the most part, I've thought politics doesn't seem to impact my life on a day to day basis. Yet, I am coming to realize that is not true. I've been paying attention to politics pretty intensely now for almost a year and a half. It started when I realized that in order to serve my community I had to actually involve myself in my community.
Initially, I did that by volunteering with my county democratic party organization. I found that I was not well suited to that degree of participation. I did not have the will to put up with bad behavior on the part of others. I wasn't willing to throw out my rationality or principles in the name of political expediency. On the other hand, I did find that at least some others thought I had some leadership skills and it has lead me to much more aware of just how much of my life is being impacted by politics in my country.
Unable to function in a political party environment effectively but knowing that I still needed to involve myself in my community, lead me to volunteer in an environment where I knew I would excel. I went back to elementary school! Finally, I was around folks that I could understand and provide some modicum of service to, first and second graders.
I expanded upon that by volunteering with a local community center providing socialization and recreational opportunities to special needs folks. A couple times a month, I take my collection of drums and other instruments to the center or a park and encourage these wonderful people to be loud and outrageous.
I was at a loss when school went out of session. Dropping from 12+ hours hanging with all those wonderful elementary types was tough. Fortunately, a Sun Dance at the end of June, provided me with a whole new opportunity to be of service. My wife and I traveled to near Dunseith, North Dakota.
There I had the great fortune to meet a fantastic community of people and to share a very spiritual five days supporting the Sun Dance. My experience as I slammed an ax into the tree that was to become "Lone Man" was awesome and lead to my commitment to fast with the dancers for the next four days. Due to health concerns, I did take water during the fast unlike my brothers and sisters who suffered without. It was an extraordinary few days.
Finally, arriving back home at the beginning of July, I was once again bereft of community engagement, aside from the couple of hours scheduled to work with the Max Higbee Center. Fortunately, my wife's desire to check out the Ferndale Farmer's market one Saturday lead to an encounter with a very energetic woman promoting the not too recently established Ferndale Community Resource Center (FCRC). A subsequent meeting lead to more meetings, so now I am engaged in helping to set up an Internet presence for the FCRC and donating some embroidery to its parent organization the Ferndale Community Service Cooperative (FCSC). There's been some talk of getting on the board's of one or both of these organizations.
The good news is that school starts in about 10 days. I've been told that I should contact the school in the middle of September after they have a better idea of their volunteer needs. Woohoo! Maybe I'll get to hang with Kindergartners along with the 1st and 2nd graders.
Still there is all this outrage and anger I am feeling. It stems from the very sick political machinations have and are being played out daily in our national politics. What Reagan, Bush I & II, Cheney and the Republican Party in particular have done to this county appalls me. The redistribution of wealth from the middle classes and poor to the obscenely wealthy, the disemboweling of the few legal protections we had by immoral, greedy corporate predators in the financial, energy, pharmaceutical, insurance and health care industries, to mention just some, truly sickens me.
The salaries, bonuses, and other rip offs that are being awarded to CEOs, CFOs, COOs and other management plutocrats in the corporate world is obscene, outrageous and without any valid justification. The good ole US of A is not the democracy that I loved. It is in fact a plutocracy or or tipping over into being one. Money talks and the people with all our money are the bankers who ripped us off big time with the financial crisis they created and it's the bail out; the health care industries, who feathered their beds to the tune of a thousand fold increase in their profits in the past 8 years alone; the oil barons who led us into a war in Iraq, lying to us all the way; the main stream media which is owned and controlled in-toto by corporate interests; and finally the lobbyist and bought and paid for politicians, who've facilitated this wholesale theft.
There is so much more beyond economics that we've lost in the past two generations. My parents were children of the depression. The social contract that FDR established with them, and Kennedy and Johnson extended is being torn apart by the people that Eisenhower warned us about.
I am outraged, angry and increasingly hopeless. Obama, today's great hope, appears to be selling us down the river, assisted by Rahm Emanual, the Blue Dogs, ConservaDems, the Republican Party and the obscene right wing media (Oh yeah it appears there is no real left wing media, unless you count the paltry few, The Nation, MSNBC, Air America, and PBS. Thank god for the left wing bloggers.) Fox News, Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck, and others the right have successfully entrenched in talk radio.
Having vented I don't feel any better. All I know is that I am doing what I can now. I am trying to stay informed about what is going on in politics and I AM SHOUTING AS LOUD AS I CAN TO ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN.
"Get involved, express yourself, write, call your Senator, Congressman, President, local political leaders, your neighbors, anyone who will listen. Take back our country from the plutocrats and crazies."
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A very good day.
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.
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.
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.
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