I think there’s a mother, too
When I was 14, my high school English teacher assigned me with the task of giving a presentation on Plato’s Parable of the Cave. I haven’t been the same since. All of my favorite stories – no, more than that – my strongest beliefs about who I am – can be traced back to the same universal principles of Plato’s allegory which I interpret rather simply to tell us: life on earth is a mere shadow compared to our true existence.
Today, I’ve just come across this . . .
“. . . story Henri Nouwen tells about twins having a conversation in their mother’s womb: The sister asks her brother, “Do you believe there is life after birth?” Her brother says, “Are you crazy? There’s no way! This is all there is. All we can do is enjoy, as best we can, this dark and cozy place, and cling to this chord that feeds us.” But his sister says, “That’s just it! Don’t you think this chord, and everything that comes to us through it, is coming from somewhere? There has to be something else! I can feel it in my bones; a place with light and laughter, with love and a new, higher level of understanding and freedom of movement.” After some silence she says, “And you want to know something else? I think there’s a mother!” Her brother explodes, “What are you talking about? Are you nuts? I have never seen a mother and neither have you! Who put that idea in your head? This place is all we have!” But she couldn’t let it go. “Don’t you feel these squeezes that come from time to time?” “Yeah, so?” “I know they can be uncomfortable, sometimes even painful, but I think they’re there to get us ready for another place, one much more beautiful than this, a place where we will see our mother face to face, feel her arms around us, a place where we will finally understand everything we’re going through in here. I believe there is life after birth.””
My whole life
39 years ago today, I was the uncomfortable addition to my mother’s torso, the months long anticipated sibling to my brother, but I hadn’t yet actually arrived. 39 years ago today was the last 24 hour period my family was just three.
Yesterday, I finally made the time to catch up with Mom on the phone. We had a nice chat, but the thing that kept circling in my monkey mind this morning was a feeling of irritation I had. Annoyed because I felt as if she told me to relax over the election, I conjured up defensive details listing all of the reasons why I felt her to be wrong. I started imagining the post I would write about how important this election is, and how anyone who . . . then I stopped myself.
I thought, “Ruth, a public blog is not the place to work this stuff out. Besides, you’re wrong about what she was telling you.” See, I interpreted what I thought she said, and decided how I felt about it without ever really stopping to understand what she meant. Check out Katie Byron’s, The Work, for more on the topic of how believing our own thoughts is so often the source of our own discomfort.
So I chose to think about other parts of our conversation. The way she listened patiently and graciously to all of my overly detailed stories about the minutiae of my life. The way she’s always, always, so kind to me, no matter what’s going on in her life, no matter how idiotic I may be acting at the time.
She told me the sweetest story about how recently she had chosen a birthday card for me and brought it home, only to have my father veto it. He wanted something with a more profound sentiment, and he wanted to send Hallmark. He takes the “very best” slogan seriously. We laughed about that. So she ended up finding a different card, one Dad liked better. It’s an especially sweet one.
When I was a child and I got myself worked up into a physical state of rage that would spoil the moment for everyone around me, or when I was in heavy complain mode, I remember Mom saying to me, “You have a choice.”
“We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.” — Kahlil Gibran
What a wonderful gift – to help me to understand from a very young age that I, alone, had the power to determine my own moods and actions.
So this birthday, my choice is to bask in the gift of my family — those three who anticipated me 39 years ago today, and the two (one furry, one human) who share my mornings and evenings here in the place that is now home. I can’t even be conscious of all they’ve taught me and given me throughout my life, but I can offer my gratitude as often as I speak. That’s my choice.
Rules schmools
When my brother and I were young, anytime we played Monopoly together, he had a habit of changing the rules mid-showdown. He knew that I was too lazy to read all of the instructions, so we’d have this faux negotiation of our own house rules at the beginning of each game.
If, during the course of a transaction, I cried foul, he assured me that I misunderstood the rules. Even if I found a citation in writing directly from The Parker Brothers’ text that ran contrary to what he was up to, he’d insist that we had agreed at the beginning of the game to ignore that particular mandate. So, no matter what, something that was right there in ink was suddenly twisted into his word against mine.
Yeah, he’s a Republican. Always has been. Since my post about the vegan breakfast sausage, we’ve actually discussed the election peacefully. We were both amazed. It would take me too long to analyze just how it happened – to discover what exactly has changed in each of us to allow such a conversation to occur without my shedding tears. (“Park Place was MINE!”)
Political discussions with Republicans always feel dangerous to me. My pulse rises, I become completely inarticulate, my stomach aches, and I get angry. Very angry. I wish – oh, how I wish, that when I’m faced with a Republican, even one who loves me, like my brother, that I could have Glenn Greenwald sitting at the table with us.
His column yesterday was spot on genius. I’m having trouble linking directly to it, so if you follow the links, you’ll have to scroll to Thursday, September 18. His point was that while the hackers that committed the serious crime of violating Sarah Palin’s privacy should be apprehended and prosecuted, “it’s really a wondrous, and repugnant, sight to behold the Bush-following lynch mobs on the Right melodramatically defend the Virtues of Privacy and the Rule of Law.” Excerpt:
“The same political faction which today is prancing around in full-throated fits of melodramatic hysteria and Victim mode (their absolute favorite state of being) over the sanctity of Sarah Palin’s privacy are the same ones who scoffed with indifference as it was revealed during the Bush era that the FBI systematically abused its Patriot Act powers togather and store private information on thousands of innocent Americans; that Homeland Security officials illegally infiltrated and monitored peaceful, law-abiding left-wing groups devoted to peace activism, civil liberties and other political agendas disliked by the state; and that the telephone calls of journalists and lawyers have been illegally and repeatedly monitored.
“And the same Surveillance State Worshipper leading today’s screeching –Michelle Malkin — spent the last several years deriding those who objected to the President’s illegal spying program as “privacy crusaders” and “constitutional absolutists” and “civil liberties absolutists”.
“Shouldn’t these same people be standing up today and insisting that if Sarah Palin has done nothing wrong, then she should have nothing to hide? If Sarah Palin isn’t committing crimes or consorting with The Terrorists, then why would she care if we can monitor her emails?”
I’m resisting the urge to reprint his whole piece . . . check it out – he makes several more highly legitimate and interesting points. And if you’re not interested in what’s legitimate then hang on to that Get Out Of Jail Free card because something tells me we’re going to have a new sheriff in town soon. And he’s taught classes on constitutional law.
Uh-Oh
I just O.D.’d on Momblogs. Not Wm’s or Trans’ or iamsam’s or faboo’s or kisses’ or kitty’s or rabbits’ ….. or seriously, ANY of the peeps in my snarkily super-intelligent & lovely blog roll. I love you guys. I do.
No, I got lost in the web . . . the net . . . the link to the link to the link until I found myself waist deep in privilege and perfectly frosted cupcakes and basements with astroturf and flat screened TVs and women who never ever have to earn a cent – the sustenance just flows in and, even though they’ve got 34 nappies to change in a 24 hour period, they have the hours in each day to, not only churn out and post delightfully crafted essays, send work to editors of print publications, as well. I’m tempted to blurt out one syllable sentiments of contempt, but deep down I know jealousy doesn’t exist in my mindful self, so I won’t.
Breathing now. I won’t. Because I spent 10 minutes meditating for peace in Sri Lanka today. Oohhmmm. I’m one with the light. Oohhmmm. We’re all one. Oohhmmm. Just washing my hands with warm water and fragrant soap is a heavenly joy. Oohhmmm.
Fucking Momblogs!
Light!
I see peace in Sri Lanka.
You know what? I’m not baffled and sick! I’m filled with positive energy, joy and light.
This morning I joined thousands of other people in a 7 day experiment to find out what happens when we focus our intentions simultaneously on bringing peace to Sri Lanka. I can imagine what skeptics may be saying about this type of thing – and that’s part of the reason why I’m so happy to be participating in this. Scientists are measuring the effects of the meditation. So what if the Pentagon didn’t levitate back in 1968, that doesn’t mean our minds don’t have undocumented powers.
Meanwhile, I’ve just tacked on a couple addenda to two of my older posts. One update is my push for sex education; and the other came about after my morning’s surfing at wordpress linked me to a wonderful story that’s healing my perception of diamonds.
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you have a great day.
Baffled and Sick
If you were raped in Wasilla, Alaska during Mayor Palin’s reign, after you finished with the difficult experience of allowing the Police Department to collect medical evidence, at some point in the week or month as you tried to go back to daily life, you would have received a bill in the mail for the physical examination. The bill would have been for an amount between $300 and $1200.
From the Anchorage Daily News: “Eight years ago, complaints about charging rape victims for medical exams in Wasilla prompted the Alaska Legislature to pass a bill — signed into law by [Former Governor Tony] Knowles — that banned the practice statewide. ‘There was one town in Alaska that was charging victims for this, and that was Wasilla,’ Knowles said.”
Palin’s hand-picked police chief publicly opposed the state law when it was passed in 2000. More details here. And here.
Remind me again: who chose this woman? To lead what country? And how, in God’s name, can people actually be supportive of that idea?
Incidentally, the U.S. Senate version of the legislation that includes the rape-exam provision was sponsored by Sen. Joe Biden. Barack Obama was one of 58 co-sponsors; John McCain was not.
Did you ever . . .
. . . consider the possibility that the polls may be wrong? That perhaps this is a more accurate portrayal of what would happen if the election were today:
And what might happen if more and more people continue waking up?
And what if no one, anywhere, cheated?
When I say, “Victory”, you say, “Yes”! Victory! Yes! Victory! Yes!
Yeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssss OBAMA!
Don’t laugh, Texas is polling “weak GOP”!
Pushing back
I don’t know if this ad is getting air time. Perhaps emailing the link is in order.
Solidarity
(On Governor Palin) ” . . . . I would rather have a vice-president who is sensitive to the environment, who does not ridicule an esteemed opponent, and who is aware of government’s responsibility to its citizens who are ill-equipped to lead independent, productive lives”. – Claire H., 85, Tennessee
Prescription: More laughter
‘Tis the season when I think about the U.S. Presidential Election during at least 43 minutes out of every waking hour. Every waking hour. Yes, it’s an obsession. It feels important. I would argue that it is important. Those who disagree with me – and are candid enough – tell me I take it all too seriously. I don’t think something this important can be taken too seriously. But I do agree that it would be healthy for me to spend a little more of my time laughing.
Before I offer today’s “comedic break”, I just want to present a hypothesis that I believe would prove correct if put to a test. I can’t take credit for the idea. I heard it from a very knowledgeable person who quite eloquently talks about how unentertaining (and just plain bad) TV, film, music and literature would be if left to the North American conservative mindset.
Put another way: you know how right-wing pundits joke about “getting rid of all the liberals and foreigners”? Just imagine what would be left in the way of entertainment if they got their wish. Not a whole lot.
Obviously there are minor incidental exceptions: Chuck-go-Huckabee-Norris, Fred Thompson, Gov. Schwarzenegger, but they are – for the most part – actors not the creative forces behind the content. There’s the amazingly profitable country music genre and Ted Nugent. While that musical canon may satisfy a whole lot of folks, what if there were nothing else to listen to? Ever. There’d be no Nutcracker Suite for your grand-daughter to dance to in the Christmas pageant – Tchaikovsky was Russian.
Making art generally requires empathy with all types of human beings, as well as an ability to think about the world in complex ways. I could go on at length about the topic, but I won’t. Instead, I invite you to bask with me in the joy of watching a man who is quickly becoming my very favorite comedic actor. Will someone PLEASE cast him in a movie? Ladies and gentlemen, Keenan-Michael Key . . .
Thank you, Mister Key.
TGFK: Thank God for Kittens!
Watching The Daily Show’s replay this morning of each of last week’s episodes was like Solarcaine on a sunburn but I didn’t fully relax until now:
Middle ground
No offense to Morningstar, but interactions with my McCain/Palin supporting older brother have been reduced to this:
This morning Andy & I tried Morningstar’s Veggie Breakfast Sausage links. I highly recommend them. The texture does not feel like meat (I actually prefer this texture). But because of the seasoning the flavor is very sausage like.
Downside: rather high in sodium. Upside: no cholesterol, some fiber, protein & vitamins, two links = 1 WW point.
Of course, what he probably hears is this:
This morning my liberal intellectual elitist cohabitant and I tried commie hippy rabbit food packaged up to look like Read the rest of this entry »
Hope
I love playing with these maps.
This is about all the hope I can muster up tonight.
Still, I see President Barack Obama standing before us on the steps of the Capitol. It’s January 20, 2009 at noon.
I hear President Obama’s voice as he says,
“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The crowd roars with applause. The cheering lasts for 20 minutes straight. Almost simultaneously, in at least one maternity ward for every single state of the whole nation (even in Alabama), nurses type the letters B-a-r-a-c-k onto birth certificates. That’s 50 new Blessings for a New Era of peace, prosperity and justice for all. 50 new blessings and one new President. President Obama.
What can I do to make it so? For starters, I will read this post each day until the election and each time I read it this happens:
- I hear the oath spoken by President Obama.
- I see President Obama leading our nation.
- I dwell in this place of certainty that good prevails.
Join me. Let’s see it!
It’s final
After what I’ve just read, I’m ready to put my moving plans into motion. I don’t mean to be a defeatist. I just need a plan B, for my sanity. And now it’s final – I’Il will move to another country if . . . I don’t want to utter the words. You know what if.
Let me turn this post over to Salon for yet another day – Glenn Greenwald ROCKS. But you’re not going to like what he has to say:
Perhaps the most disturbing revelation about Palin yet appeared in theTime article linked above — that one of the very first things she did after being elected Mayor was pressure the librarian to ban books which she found offensive in some way:
Stein says that as mayor, Palin continued to inject religious beliefs into her policy at times. “She asked the library how she could go about banning books,” he says, because some voters thought they had inappropriate language in them. “The librarian was aghast.” That woman, Mary Ellen Baker, couldn’t be reached for comment, but news reports from the time show that Palin had threatened to fire Baker for not giving “full support” to the mayor.
59 days, 17 hours, 57 minutes until the election. I’m trying to keep my sanity here. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.
To “Stretch Truth”
There is a word for “Stretched Truth”: Lies. It’s refreshing that the linked article even made it to Yahoo headlines; however, it seems to me that AP has been rather cautious in their choice of content while presenting the facts. Not too bad for a short pop piece, though.
No, I’m not whining, I’m holding my expectations higher. There’s a difference.
My favorite fact-checking site: Media Matters.
Ode to Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston
I thought I was pregnant once when I was 17. I have no idea why I was so paranoid – I think my period was only 2 days late; plus, I was on the pill. Still, there were about 24 hours that I was convinced that I must somehow be pregnant. I was terrified. Terrified and miserable. I saw my whole life stop dead in its tracks. I was passionately in love with my boyfriend; and he loved me, he really did. Yet I knew I was too young for motherhood.
Nearly a year earlier, when I made the decision to begin taking birth control pills, I shared the idea with my mother. She was open minded, loving, and she was a good friend. She told me she worried that I would be hurt – emotionally – if I began having sex with my high school sweetheart. We talked about the risk of disease. She made it clear that she preferred that I wait. Until marriage. But as we continued our long talk, she accepted the fact that it was really out of her control. She made me feel loved, even though she was concerned about my decision.
At the end of the conversation, I asked her not to tell Dad. I could talk to her about this stuff, but I was mortified for my father to know. It was bad enough having him drive us home from the mall, years earlier, the day we purchased my first bra. I may have even begged, “Please don’t tell him, Mom.” I’ll always remember what she said:
“I share everything with your father.”
One simple statement. Such a huge lesson: this is the strong bond of a healthy marriage.
It was probably a good 10 days before I could look my dad in the eyes again. But I was consciously secure knowing that my parents were a unit.
As that first relationship ran its course – we were together for five years in total – a lot of our friends encouraged us to get married. I was 21, he was 23. We talked about it. We were in love. We said, “Well, we’re either getting married, or we’re breaking up.” Why break up? To see the world . . . to see what it’s like to fall in love again . . . to let each other grow up independently. I needed to face my fear of being alone. And face it I did. And survive it, I did. I’m so grateful for the years of growth and education I’ve had since that time in my life. I’ve cultivated the resources and energy to contribute positively to my community.
I think about Bristol and Levi and how different their paths are from mine. I’m sad for Bristol and her sisters that their mother isn’t more like my mom was. To be 17, pregnant, and suddenly a very public pawn of the RNC, is unthinkable. The platitudes make it sound simple: “There’s a new life coming into the world,” “Two families uniting in marriage.”
Don’t you suspect that Bristol and Levi might have chosen something different for themselves?
- – - -
09/14/08 UPDATE: To any teens out there who may not be able to speak to their parents on the topic of sex – I encourage you to seek out Planned Parenthood. The time to learn how to take care of your body is BEFORE you begin a physical relationship with another person. Those who promote “abstinence only education” have forgotten what it’s like to be young. If you’re left to educate yourself, you’re not alone: Planned Parenthood, will help.
What Planned Parenthood may not teach you is how to make sure you’re selecting a sexual partner who is worthy of your attention, how to figure out the difference between real-mutual-love and infatuation, and how to think highly enough of yourself to take charge of your own pleasure. These are important questions. Whoever you are, I hope you’re in a position to be able to hold out for real love with a caring partner.
Whose life?
The adamantly pro-life candidate for U.S. V.P., Sarah Palin
Ethics aside, ponder this: we have a 72 year old man running for president who hasn’t fully vetted his choice in a running mate. Put dear Sarah on a pedestal if you must, but think about what this decision says about the man who wants to lead our country.
I grew up in a community near Washington, D.C., a modest one, out near the tobacco fields. More than a few of our neighbors worked for the federal government. You always knew when someone was up for a promotion. Read the rest of this entry »
