That such a gruesome battle could have been fought in such a gorgeous stretch of farmland is one of the many ironies of war. Three days of vicious combat reduced the land to an ugly mess, but in an reminder that Mother Nature trumps human actions, the site has reverted back its original beauty.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Quote of the Week
“Hypocrisy in anything whatever may deceive the cleverest and most penetrating man, but the least wide-awake of children recognizes it, and is revolted by it, however ingeniously it may be disguised”- Leo Tolstoy
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Friday, July 02, 2010
Notice
Posting will be light throughout the weekend into Monday. I will be visiting two Civil War battlefields, the evidence of which will be heavily documented with photos. Though I find war deplorable on all sorts of levels, I also find it perversely fascinating. On Independence Day weekend, I will be contemplating the senseless slaughter of combat and how it factors in to a huge celebration of the birth of a new nation, one which won its freedom by way of the musket and the sword.
While at both Gettysburg and Antietam, I will be sure to remember that what celebrates victory from defeat is often the side which makes the fewest mistakes, or capitalizes on the enemy's mistake at a crucial time. Human error and pure chance have as much to do with winning and losing as planning and execution. As much as we think we are in control, we are not.
While at both Gettysburg and Antietam, I will be sure to remember that what celebrates victory from defeat is often the side which makes the fewest mistakes, or capitalizes on the enemy's mistake at a crucial time. Human error and pure chance have as much to do with winning and losing as planning and execution. As much as we think we are in control, we are not.
He Thought of Cars
Moscow's still red
The young man's dead
Gone to heaven instead
The evening news
Says he was confused
The motorways will all merge soon
Lottery winner buys the moon
They've come to save us
The space invaders
He thought of cars
And where
Where to drive them
And who to drive them with
But there
There was no-one
No-one
There's panic at London Heathrow
Everybody wants to go
Up into the blue
But there's a ten year queue
Columbia is in top gear
It shouldn't snow this time of year
America's shot
She's gone and done the lot
He thought of planes
And where
Where to fly to
And who to fly there with
But there
There was no-one
No-one
He thought of cars
And where
Where to drive them
And who to drive them with
But there
There was no-one
No-one
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Boundaries and Guidance within a Spiritual Life
As I have lived my life more in line with the Spirit, I have felt a greater communion with others. My anger and resentment has diminished noticeably. I find myself more comfortable around people who are superficially different from me. But I notice too that my emotional response to other people's pain and suffering is considerable. Where before I might have dismissed a tragedy with a shrug of the shoulders, I now often burst into tears. When I might have shrugged my shoulders and immediately entertained other topics, I mull and dwell on the places of pain we all experience. This places me well within the realm of the ambivalent.
To be sure, I do not question why I feel the way I feel now. This is, I firmly believe, a healthy state of mind and I have experienced a peace within myself long sought for and rarely achieved. Problems arise when how I feel differs greatly from others. If they embraced this same leaning, that would be one thing. Regrettably, this world is, as we know, often not a warm, compassionate, caring place. People learn to desensitize themselves to the negative for the sake of protection. In a big city, especially, people rarely talk to strangers and often assume that those who try to engage with them in conversation are potentially threats to their personal safety. While this might be a good strategy in the short term, our hearts begin to harden. Eventually we begin to lose our common humanity. We divide the world into those we can trust, and those we cannot. As much as we say we believe that good and evil are not absolutes, for convenience sake we still trust in those categories.
Once, a few years back, I participated in a small group comprised of trauma survivors. I will never forget until my dying day the story of a firefighter. He mentioned that as part of his job, he had learned and been trained to block out and depersonalize the horrors he saw on the job. Or, as he put it, if he internalized all of what he encountered on a daily basis, he would have never been able to sleep at night. Recent events in his life, however, had unfortunately even rendered that coping mechanism null and void. His brother and sister-in-law had been in a fatal car accident. In the car with them, buckled up in the backseat, had been a young boy, their son. The child miraculously survived the crash, but both parents were killed on impact. In accordance with the will of the recently deceased, the fireman had been given custody of the child. Fatherhood had been tougher than he even imagined. Due to unforeseen tragedy he had been forced into a role he had never desired and never sought for this precise reason.
He had taken to drink in large part because the child remembered vividly what had happened during the crash, and had taken to asking questions. The boy was young enough to not really understand death, but still sought in his own way to make sense of what he had observed. The firefighter felt isolated, alone, and overwhelmed in trying to find a way to answer what he had been asked. He sought to find a way to be honest that was informative but yet would not frighten or upset the child. The stress was more than he could deal with, so he turned to the bottle. Those with whom he worked noticed the change that had come over him. Knowing the full extent of what had happened, they were sympathetic to his situation, and pushed him into treatment. He was well-liked at work and a hard worker, so he was granted a significant amount of personal leave time so that he might heal himself, regardless of how long it might take.
To return once more to the YAF gathering in Kansas, while there I met a Friend for whom worship was exceptionally powerful. Certainly every worship was intense in its own way and sometimes emotionally draining for us all, but in her case, from the exact point the first message was shared until the hour was up, she would sob profusely. Observing her, I would often tear up myself and several times I, too, cried during worship. And as I think back about her response, I wonder if I was wise to hold back a bit at times, in so doing restraining my feelings. As someone finely attuned to the world, for better or for worse, my emotions were on full display because from the moment I arrived until the moment I left, the Spirit was everywhere.
One morning during worship I kept receiving a persistent message. Seek and ye shall find. Seek and ye shall find. Seek and ye shall find. I didn't share it because I wasn't quite sure where it fit and kept waiting the clearness I was sure would follow. With my own ministry, usually I receive a few words or a few sentences at a time, which with time, contemplation, and prayer grow into a coherent whole. I waited and waited, expecting more, but received nothing further. After worship had concluded, I remember thinking to myself how unusual this was, but concluded that nothing about the entire gathering had been ordinary thus far, so I shouldn't be surprised.
I made my way to the library to decompress a bit. As an introvert, I recognize that I need time in solitude to recharge my batteries and sufficiently process what I have just experienced. The room was quiet, shadowy, and comfortable. I surveyed three or four tables worth of Quaker-related books for sale, merely browsing. One especially interesting title jumped out at me, and I opened the front cover to skim a few pages. My attention drifted down two or three paragraphs to the bottom third of the page, which read, Seek and ye shall find.
I began to weep. Nothing could have spoken to my condition more perfectly than that. I wished that I could have remained within it longer, but then someone else walked into the library, so I quickly dried my tears. No one would have judged me for getting emotional, but long practiced habit demanded otherwise. Men are allowed to cry only in certain situations. Out in the world, strangers are often inclined to stare. Though I do not know their thoughts, that doesn't stop me from assuming I ought to be ashamed of "losing control". Gender socialization is tough to escape, even with significant effort and practice. Even so, I work hard to reprogram what I have been taught.
A prior post I wrote discussed whether it is possible or even plausible to dwell in a place where one never needs to doubt that God is present. A commenter noted that true faith requires devotion even in times of spiritual drought. I agree with the Friend, but I sometimes wonder if this sensation of being apart from the Spirit can be removed by discipline and practice. This proves a bit perplexing to me as I believe that we are saved by Grace. As such, our salvation can never be achieved through works alone. What causes me some confusion is that the guidance of the God of the New Testament is much more mysterious and subliminal than that of the Old Testament. Consider, for instance, what Moses is told by the burning bush. I include below a lengthy passage from Exodus to make my point.
4 When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, "Moses! Moses!"
And Moses said, "Here I am."5 "Do not come any closer," God said. "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." 6 Then he said, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob." At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.
7 The LORD said, "I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. 8 So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. 9 And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. 10 So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt."
11 But Moses said to God, "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?"
12 And God said, "I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you a]">[a] will worship God on this mountain."
13 Moses said to God, "Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' Then what shall I tell them?"
14 God said to Moses, "I am who I am . b]">[b] This is what you are to say to the Israelites: 'I AM has sent me to you.' "
15 God also said to Moses, "Say to the Israelites, 'The LORD, c]">[c] the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.' This is my name forever, the name by which I am to be remembered from generation to generation.
16 "Go, assemble the elders of Israel and say to them, 'The LORD, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—appeared to me and said: I have watched over you and have seen what has been done to you in Egypt. 17 And I have promised to bring you up out of your misery in Egypt into the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites—a land flowing with milk and honey.'
18 "The elders of Israel will listen to you. Then you and the elders are to go to the king of Egypt and say to him, 'The LORD, the God of the Hebrews, has met with us. Let us take a three-day journey into the desert to offer sacrifices to the LORD our God.' 19 But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him. 20 So I will stretch out my hand and strike the Egyptians with all the wonders that I will perform among them. After that, he will let you go.
21 "And I will make the Egyptians favorably disposed toward this people, so that when you leave you will not go empty-handed. 22 Every woman is to ask her neighbor and any woman living in her house for articles of silver and gold and for clothing, which you will put on your sons and daughters. And so you will plunder the Egyptians."
By contrast, here is the New Testament take.
God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can't take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.
Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other's faults because of your love. Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace.
I conclude with a query. Is there a conflict between Salvation by Grace and spiritual discipline? Does God provide us with a list of things to fix, or do we receive our guidance a little bit at a time?
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
I Wish
I wish the music would play by itself
Shredded fingers - no ideas
I wish this rainy day could be the last
Could the world end - what a god send
I wish I could stop wishing you were here
But I don't want to - cos I still want you
I wish I didn't feel so flippin mad
Don't wanna scare you - just wanna love you
I wish my life could last a thousand years
Then I'd be clever - and build a heaven
I wish I could bring Nick Drake back to life
He'd understand - hold my hat band
I wish a constant stream of happy shit
Live forever - in world of leather
I wish the rain would just leave me alone
I can't wear that - stupid rain hat
I wish I was in Californ-I-A
Perno perfurme - in the Danube
I wish the thing of love meant just one thing
Cinderella - salmonella
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
When Secrets Cause Misunderstanding
Cross-posted to Feministing Community
Even as times change and private details become public domain (whether we want them to or not), we still assume that entrusting our most hidden secrets with someone else implies a sort of emotional intimacy only present within a romantic relationship. This proves problematic, however, when not revealing crucial bits of information makes it very easy to be misunderstood or to have one’s motives called into question.
Some criticize those who over-share, often with good reason, but I find the details that are loudly volunteered for all who might hear them aren’t necessarily shameful secrets, but rather a litany of poor decisions and often destructive behaviors that are shockingly hedonistic. While riding public transportation, I might overhear the sordid details of a random stranger’s alcohol-drenched one-night-stand, but I’m certainly not likely to hear about their struggles with body image or an eating disorder. Some topics are off-limits, even in a culture that is at times inclined towards narcissistic boasting.
The sort of honesty, by contrast, that I ascribe to is very different. As I’ve talked about before, I keep primarily female company. My friends are almost entirely female and I’m far more comfortable around women than I ever have been around men. Though therapy has been helping me work through my trust issues with men, the progress I have made is measured in inches, not miles. The going is slow, and frequently painful. It is my hope that someday I will be able to have friends who are male who I won’t feel compelled to keep at arm’s length from me, but in the meantime I have to work with where I am right now.
Recently I ran into an issue with a female friend whose religious beliefs are far more conservative than my own. In her own worship service, for example, men and women still sit separately from one another. Even outside of worship, men mostly keep male company and women mostly keep female company. She shared a story with me recently about how she once invited a man she had known for years and years, one significantly older than herself and very married, to her new apartment to show him around. He refused to enter the front door for fear that someone might assume that the two of them were up there purely to have sex or to engage in "evil", as he put it, and used a scriptural citation as justification.
Even while we were talking in person, I noticed very subtle but very deliberate ways in which she implied that all she wanted from me was friendship. I noticed these, of course, and tried not to seem as though I didn’t understand what she was very delicately stating. As she explained it to me, men who seek close bonds with women, particularly close emotional bonds usually desire a relationship. To her, I suppose, she thought I was trying to court her, and she was not interested in that at all. I had no interests beyond the platonic myself, but by the very fact that I opened up and shared large parts of myself with her very quickly into our friendship, she assumed my designs were romantic rather than friendly.
We eventually came to a mutual understanding, whereby she explained her reasons for setting sharp boundaries. After some initial discomfort, we are now the best of friends and stay in contact frequently. Yet, I also had to explain once more about the abuse and its impact upon me. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to come clean with something capable of making another person really uncomfortable for the sake of clearing up a misunderstanding. Though most people these days are okay with having opposite-sex friends, I wonder if there will ever come a time where our openness gives people the freedom to talk openly about that which makes them vulnerable and that which they are easily ashamed. If we did this, we’d certainly cut down on the problems caused by just not getting each other and we might even find that we have more in common than we’d ever dreamed. This is my hope for the future.
Even as times change and private details become public domain (whether we want them to or not), we still assume that entrusting our most hidden secrets with someone else implies a sort of emotional intimacy only present within a romantic relationship. This proves problematic, however, when not revealing crucial bits of information makes it very easy to be misunderstood or to have one’s motives called into question.
Some criticize those who over-share, often with good reason, but I find the details that are loudly volunteered for all who might hear them aren’t necessarily shameful secrets, but rather a litany of poor decisions and often destructive behaviors that are shockingly hedonistic. While riding public transportation, I might overhear the sordid details of a random stranger’s alcohol-drenched one-night-stand, but I’m certainly not likely to hear about their struggles with body image or an eating disorder. Some topics are off-limits, even in a culture that is at times inclined towards narcissistic boasting.
The sort of honesty, by contrast, that I ascribe to is very different. As I’ve talked about before, I keep primarily female company. My friends are almost entirely female and I’m far more comfortable around women than I ever have been around men. Though therapy has been helping me work through my trust issues with men, the progress I have made is measured in inches, not miles. The going is slow, and frequently painful. It is my hope that someday I will be able to have friends who are male who I won’t feel compelled to keep at arm’s length from me, but in the meantime I have to work with where I am right now.
Recently I ran into an issue with a female friend whose religious beliefs are far more conservative than my own. In her own worship service, for example, men and women still sit separately from one another. Even outside of worship, men mostly keep male company and women mostly keep female company. She shared a story with me recently about how she once invited a man she had known for years and years, one significantly older than herself and very married, to her new apartment to show him around. He refused to enter the front door for fear that someone might assume that the two of them were up there purely to have sex or to engage in "evil", as he put it, and used a scriptural citation as justification.
Even while we were talking in person, I noticed very subtle but very deliberate ways in which she implied that all she wanted from me was friendship. I noticed these, of course, and tried not to seem as though I didn’t understand what she was very delicately stating. As she explained it to me, men who seek close bonds with women, particularly close emotional bonds usually desire a relationship. To her, I suppose, she thought I was trying to court her, and she was not interested in that at all. I had no interests beyond the platonic myself, but by the very fact that I opened up and shared large parts of myself with her very quickly into our friendship, she assumed my designs were romantic rather than friendly.
We eventually came to a mutual understanding, whereby she explained her reasons for setting sharp boundaries. After some initial discomfort, we are now the best of friends and stay in contact frequently. Yet, I also had to explain once more about the abuse and its impact upon me. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to come clean with something capable of making another person really uncomfortable for the sake of clearing up a misunderstanding. Though most people these days are okay with having opposite-sex friends, I wonder if there will ever come a time where our openness gives people the freedom to talk openly about that which makes them vulnerable and that which they are easily ashamed. If we did this, we’d certainly cut down on the problems caused by just not getting each other and we might even find that we have more in common than we’d ever dreamed. This is my hope for the future.
On Spiritual Gatherings, Retreats, Conferences, and Camps
I've been reflecting recently on the nature of conferences, gatherings, retreats, or camps. Roughly a month ago I returned from the Young Adult Friend 2010 conference held in Wichita, Kansas. In a month, I will attend Baltimore Yearly Meeting's Annual Session for the first time ever. For non-Quaker readers, a monthly meeting is where one attends worship every Sunday. A yearly meeting, by contrast, is a regional grouping of monthly meetings.
For me, at least, attending such functions almost always proves fruitful in all sorts of ways. Making deep, emotionally satisfying connections with other Friends is always welcome. After arriving home, I feel charged and driven, even ready to run through a brick wall if necessary to accomplish the aims and goals I have set for myself. Such spaces are a bit of a sustained pep talk of sorts, a call to action, if you will.
The YAF 2010 gathering in Kansas provided me the ability to experience a near-Utopia for three powerful days. The intensity, the fellowship, and the presence of the Spirit were present in proportions I have experienced very rarely in my own life. God's presence in my life was no abstraction, nor something frustratingly imperceptible. In my exuberance and joy, I expressed these feelings to a Friend, and his response was cautious and measured. He told me that any function this concentrated could never be replicated in day-to-day life and that, furthermore, we should take what we learned and apply it to our monthly meetings and be sure not to leave it all there.
It is certainly true that many Young Friends and Young Adult Friends live only for conferences and gatherings while ignoring their monthly meetings. Even so, one cannot discount the powerful and renewing experiences produced there. They may be only for the short-term, but even something so time-limited I believe needs to be enjoyed without caveats. Our much less exciting daily lives will always be there upon our return. Why not enjoy oneself as best one can?
Many groups, movements, or organizations, be they religious or secular put on some version or another of a gathering or conference. Those fortunate enough to attend find themselves riding a high of good feeling. With it comes a hard-charging idealism and restored sense of focus. This degree of energy or purpose may not be sustainable, but one cannot discount the impression they make upon those in attendance. I might not be able to remember where my cars keys are on my way out the door, but I will never forget the connections I made, the people I met, and the shared experience of togetherness produced as we shared space with one another. Those who I have spoken to upon return feel relaxed and at peace, as though they had been on a leisurely and badly needed vacation.
I met a Young Adult Friend while in Kansas who is part of a small intentional community under the care of her monthly meeting. I mention this to underscore a very common current among many participants; they feel as though they are in a place where they are finally understood, loved, accepted, and taken seriously. They have, in effect, found their tribe and their people, and are reluctant to part ways with them. Several of us have at least contemplated a desire to live together away from the demoralizing, hurtful aspects of the world, and though one might easily assign that to wishful thinking, it has nonetheless crossed the minds of more than a few.
As tempting as this is, I do know that there's a lot of hard work to be done out in the greater world. My hope upon leaving any gathering this profound and moving is that I might not see the experiences of true community slip away from me like sand in an hour glass, a little bit at a time. I may not be able to grasp hold to all of it, but my fond memories remain, and they persist. Science has taught us that the more intense an experience, the more likely it is for it to be indelibly burned into our memories. No matter what might face me, if I need to be reminded of what really matters in life, all I need to do is invoke those times. Some of what I experienced might be short-lived, but I take back much of value with me. If these gatherings are artificial and unreal, then here's to artifice and unreality!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Time Has Told Me (A Capella)
To sing Nick Drake, I have to rely on the lower part of my register, meaning that I have to sacrifice some volume in the process. I did two or three takes of this song with a guitar, but found that the guitar overpowered the beauty of the vocals, so I decided to strip it down and sing it without accompaniment.
Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.
And time has told me
Not to ask for more
Someday our ocean
Will find its shore.
So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be
What I really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making me love
What I really don't want to love.
Time has told me
You came with the dawn
A soul with no footprint
A rose with no thorn.
Your tears they tell me
There's really no way
Of ending your troubles
With things you can say.
And time will tell you
To stay by my side
To keep on trying
'til there's no more to hide.
So leave the ways that are making you be
What you really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making you love
What you really don't want to love.
Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.
And time has told me
Not to ask for more
For some day our ocean
Will find its shore.
Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.
And time has told me
Not to ask for more
Someday our ocean
Will find its shore.
So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be
What I really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making me love
What I really don't want to love.
Time has told me
You came with the dawn
A soul with no footprint
A rose with no thorn.
Your tears they tell me
There's really no way
Of ending your troubles
With things you can say.
And time will tell you
To stay by my side
To keep on trying
'til there's no more to hide.
So leave the ways that are making you be
What you really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making you love
What you really don't want to love.
Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.
And time has told me
Not to ask for more
For some day our ocean
Will find its shore.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Absolutely Ridiculous
Washington, DC, forecast for today.
Hot
Hi 99 °F
It isn't even July yet! Even in Alabama this would be called early August weather!
If this is what climate change means, I'm moving to a remote part of Northern Canada.
Quote of the Week
"Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity."- Hippocrates
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Dream (Dream) Dream (Dream)
I usually don't provide much in the way of commentary for my performance videos, but I figured I would today. Some performances are easy to record and can be managed in only two or three takes. This was not the case here today. I did close to ten takes in a row before eliminating minor, but still significant errors that would have detracted from the entire performance itself. My patience usually wears thin around the seventh or eighth take. Furthermore, any song that is particularly barre-intensive like this one can only be played a certain number of times before I have to stop. There is a reason for that, of course, and hopefully you'll find the story behind it interesting.
Roughly a decade ago, I was out driving one rainy November morning, and ended up hydroplaning into the back of the car in front of me. People drive very indecisively and at time irrationally when it's raining, so I was forced to apply the brakes rather abruptly when the whole chain of cars in front of me decided to come to a complete stop at a red light. My car had an unfortunate tendency to lack roadway traction in crucial situations. As I plowed into the bumper of what turned out to be a Jaguar, the airbag inflated.
My left thumb happened to be grasping the steering wheel rather aggressively before impact, and somehow the airbag was in its direct path. It was bent sideways and badly dislocated. Suffice it to say that it's never quite been the same since. Barring forces one to push hard against the underside of the neck with the fretting hand; the thumb is the crucial digit to accomplish this successfully. My left thumb doesn't have the range of motion it once did and bends very awkwardly and stiffly at the joint. When I write my own stuff, I have to be careful to mix up barre chords with open chords, since a song with 100% barring I'll only be able to manage about three or four times through. I've often wondered if I could have surgery on it.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Now I Know in Part; Then I Shall Know Fully
I posted this to Feministing's Community section, but I always manage to end up with at least three minor spelling errors or grammatical missteps I never catch before posting, so here's the better version. I've also modified it a bit for an audience unfamiliar with Feminist spaces.
This post was not published on that site, perhaps because of how easily it could be misinterpreted. No matter. I managed to reach many people with these words through other conduits.
The Author.
____________________
Two specific stories from two specific people have broadened my understanding in the past few days. As a bit of prelude, I recognize that I was socialized as a male, so I know that it is from that reference point that I form all my judgments and observations. In particular, two very intense experiences I've had recently brought quite a bit into focus for me. I'm always very glad for desired insight and always hope to receive more of it.
With my first anecdote, I'm going to be a good bit vague regarding specific details for the sake of my friend's privacy. To begin, I suppose one never understands sexual assault completely until it happens to them personally or when it happens to someone one knows well. When any tragedy moves from the abstract to the real, real learning commences. And on that note, here is just what I mean.
A friend, clearly in a place of pain, recounted to me something that had happened to her the prior week before at a conference. While there, she told me that she had been fondled against her will by a fellow attender. To add insult to injury, after the incident, the man in question then proceeded to shadow her movements and in so doing make it known to her that he fully intended to stay within her eyesight at all times.
This behavior constituted stalking and of course it totally freaked her out. From then on she made a point to place herself directly in the middle of large groups of people for protection's sake and to never go anywhere by herself. I'm glad she had enough foresight to protect herself in this way, though of course I would have rather none of this happened at all. Her copious tears and fear showed plainly on her face as she talked and I could tell just how upset all this had made her. After she finished speaking and I began to process what I had just been told, I think it was at that exact moment that I developed a deeper understanding I never would have managed prior to then.
I've mentioned a few times in other spaces my own childhood experiences with sexual assault and the damage done, so I note it here only to provide a bit of context. Still, I think it's a bit different when it happens in adulthood and particularly when it happens to a man, rather than a woman. This is confirmed when, in my online Feminist activism, a woman puts up a post or starts a thread regarding the subject of rape or sexual assault, especially when it arrives in the form of personal anecdote. So many people relate deeply and personally to that which has been said on the matter and we can talk of nothing else for a long while afterward.
I've always found it interesting to observe how one post inspires others and leads others to write their own post. It's also fascinating to contemplate the ways in which one particular piece on any topic, regardless of what it may be, will give readers an opening to speak about something very important to them. Sometimes written replies to previous posts revolve around one sentence out of fifty in the piece that has moved them in some way, shape, or fashion. Sometimes they are a drafted response to one whole post in totality. Sometimes one word alone is dynamic enough to be a conduit for someone's further exploration. But what cannot be denied is that all our stories do have a common thread.
I observe this same phenomenon in unprogrammed worship. Sometimes one can tell how one message leads to another, though not always. My interest in how it all fits together isn't purely just an intellectual pursuit. Sometimes meetings turn out to be very gathered and very logical. Sometimes they are asymmetric and perplexing, but I still look for the Light within each person's contribution. To me, that's part of spiritual discipline and part of knocking on the door, knowing that by the end, the door will be opened and I will find that which I have been seeking.
Next, the second anecdote. A fellow Quaker sat across the room from me during a worship group. We had yet to begin and were simply having pleasant conversation with each other before getting started. She told a story about a man in her own meeting, who, at some point during service, had attempted to kiss the woman sitting next to him. The assumption was that the two of them were strangers, or at least that they didn't know each other very well, though I don't know the details well enough to be any authority on the matter.
Whether the kiss was meant in a spirit of purely platonic fellowship or overt sexual desire was unclear, but in any case, the woman had not wanted it. In response to her actions, the man proceeded to rise to speak and in so doing chastised the woman for her behavior. Shaming other Friends in meeting is not acceptable, but in addition to that, it nearly went without saying that his message was clearly not Spirit-led and was meant only for he himself. This resulted, as you might anticipate, in a very heated, intense situation as meeting concluded. It was thus necessary to set firm parameters, boundaries, and consequences for the man if he ever acted the same way again during worship.
The fellow Friend telling the story put herself in a pastoral care role as she talked to him, walking a delicate tightrope she sought to base purely in love while at the same time knowing she needed to be constantly vigilant to not let her temper lead her towards directions that would only have exacerbated the situation further. Was it fair that she had to do this? Certainly not, but that's unfortunately part of living in a world that is unequal and unjust. I myself have learned over the years that word selection and tone are as important, if not more so, than intent alone. How we say it often supersedes what we say.
As she finished the story, she noted, with some bitterness, that even when she was absolutely furious, people often thought that she looked cute. As a result, they had a hard time taking her seriously. I recall that this was one of my mother's pet peeves, as well. Without knowing better, years and years ago, I fought back against my latest disciplinary tongue-lashing by telling Mom that, You look cute when you get angry. I was all of nine or ten at the time. I must have picked it up from somewhere and assumed only that it was a kind of clever smart-assed retort, but the ferocity of my Mother's anger at that statement really surprised me. Later, of course, I understood why it had set her off so much. This idea of being consistently belittled and infantilized by men in ways few men would treat another man took a while for me to fully understand and take into account.
The boundaries that prevent women from reaching their own freedom are often the very same ones that keep men from understanding how to be good allies. This deeply complicates how they ought to aid them in that struggle. Additionally, I have come to understand how women are told to be people-pleasers first and foremost and in so doing warned to not rock the boat for any reason. This is something else the Friend spoke about, and though I do not doubt what she said, I have to say that this particular cultural expectation runs contrary with how I was brought up.
I myself came from a family of people with flashpoint tempers, regardless of sex. Anger is something I'm used to, in other words, and in my family, it was something of a simultaneous means of attack and a means of defense. Though I try to keep my own temper under wraps, if I'm upset enough for long enough, what comes out of me is so intense as to be frightening. This is why I try as best I can to not lose my cool. I certainly have listened to close female friends, partners, and lovers talk about the societal pressure to be calm and deferential at all cost and I acknowledge that those experiences were very real for them.
That, however, was not my experience growing up. My mother was never exactly the sort of person to restrain her passions. I can still remember some of the decibel-splitting lectures I received as a boy which could have peeled the paint off of walls. Both of my sisters have angry streaks as well, and this has regrettably led to more than a few verbal fights among us I'd rather not contemplate. We might have repressed certain things about ourselves, but conflict was not one of them.
I used to be very angry myself and I have only recently set it aside. Because of my own struggles and because of the nature of how I grew up, I don't usually feel threatened by people whose default setting is anger. Instead, I feel sorrow and compassion for them. Anger stems from a sense of brokenness and I wish for it to be healed and put aside. My own father's anger didn't really subside until recently when he began to have major health problems. My grandfather, my mother's father, was someone who was also very fiery and explosive. He did not let go of his quick temper until the cancer that would eventually take his life took with it his strength and will to keep struggling.
His behavior, those ghastly last months, was thoroughly out of character. My mother mentions how distressing it was to see someone who was a ball of energy become lethargic and non-committal. And it's probably not surprising that I've been attracted to people who do possess anger to some degree or another, though I have also discovered that these sorts of desires are unhealthy. We all have fatal attractions and mine is to anger, whether within myself or another person.
And, to conclude, we know the world we live in has significant problems and so we speak out against them. I'm glad we do. It's easy for me to feel outraged. That outrage is often effective in getting myself fired up and ready to go. But when I can make a personal connection to a situation based on someone I know in real life, I see a more complete picture. I see the ironies. I see the humanity. I see the tragedy. I see the human frailties we all possess to some degree. And when that happens, the nature of my anger changes. Feeling love for someone who has wronged you does not mean accepting one's fate or condoning what has happened. But it does mean that we take into account something beyond just our own individual response and try to entertain someone else's thought process, too.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
This post was not published on that site, perhaps because of how easily it could be misinterpreted. No matter. I managed to reach many people with these words through other conduits.
The Author.
____________________
Two specific stories from two specific people have broadened my understanding in the past few days. As a bit of prelude, I recognize that I was socialized as a male, so I know that it is from that reference point that I form all my judgments and observations. In particular, two very intense experiences I've had recently brought quite a bit into focus for me. I'm always very glad for desired insight and always hope to receive more of it.
With my first anecdote, I'm going to be a good bit vague regarding specific details for the sake of my friend's privacy. To begin, I suppose one never understands sexual assault completely until it happens to them personally or when it happens to someone one knows well. When any tragedy moves from the abstract to the real, real learning commences. And on that note, here is just what I mean.
A friend, clearly in a place of pain, recounted to me something that had happened to her the prior week before at a conference. While there, she told me that she had been fondled against her will by a fellow attender. To add insult to injury, after the incident, the man in question then proceeded to shadow her movements and in so doing make it known to her that he fully intended to stay within her eyesight at all times.
This behavior constituted stalking and of course it totally freaked her out. From then on she made a point to place herself directly in the middle of large groups of people for protection's sake and to never go anywhere by herself. I'm glad she had enough foresight to protect herself in this way, though of course I would have rather none of this happened at all. Her copious tears and fear showed plainly on her face as she talked and I could tell just how upset all this had made her. After she finished speaking and I began to process what I had just been told, I think it was at that exact moment that I developed a deeper understanding I never would have managed prior to then.
I've mentioned a few times in other spaces my own childhood experiences with sexual assault and the damage done, so I note it here only to provide a bit of context. Still, I think it's a bit different when it happens in adulthood and particularly when it happens to a man, rather than a woman. This is confirmed when, in my online Feminist activism, a woman puts up a post or starts a thread regarding the subject of rape or sexual assault, especially when it arrives in the form of personal anecdote. So many people relate deeply and personally to that which has been said on the matter and we can talk of nothing else for a long while afterward.
I've always found it interesting to observe how one post inspires others and leads others to write their own post. It's also fascinating to contemplate the ways in which one particular piece on any topic, regardless of what it may be, will give readers an opening to speak about something very important to them. Sometimes written replies to previous posts revolve around one sentence out of fifty in the piece that has moved them in some way, shape, or fashion. Sometimes they are a drafted response to one whole post in totality. Sometimes one word alone is dynamic enough to be a conduit for someone's further exploration. But what cannot be denied is that all our stories do have a common thread.
I observe this same phenomenon in unprogrammed worship. Sometimes one can tell how one message leads to another, though not always. My interest in how it all fits together isn't purely just an intellectual pursuit. Sometimes meetings turn out to be very gathered and very logical. Sometimes they are asymmetric and perplexing, but I still look for the Light within each person's contribution. To me, that's part of spiritual discipline and part of knocking on the door, knowing that by the end, the door will be opened and I will find that which I have been seeking.
Next, the second anecdote. A fellow Quaker sat across the room from me during a worship group. We had yet to begin and were simply having pleasant conversation with each other before getting started. She told a story about a man in her own meeting, who, at some point during service, had attempted to kiss the woman sitting next to him. The assumption was that the two of them were strangers, or at least that they didn't know each other very well, though I don't know the details well enough to be any authority on the matter.
Whether the kiss was meant in a spirit of purely platonic fellowship or overt sexual desire was unclear, but in any case, the woman had not wanted it. In response to her actions, the man proceeded to rise to speak and in so doing chastised the woman for her behavior. Shaming other Friends in meeting is not acceptable, but in addition to that, it nearly went without saying that his message was clearly not Spirit-led and was meant only for he himself. This resulted, as you might anticipate, in a very heated, intense situation as meeting concluded. It was thus necessary to set firm parameters, boundaries, and consequences for the man if he ever acted the same way again during worship.
The fellow Friend telling the story put herself in a pastoral care role as she talked to him, walking a delicate tightrope she sought to base purely in love while at the same time knowing she needed to be constantly vigilant to not let her temper lead her towards directions that would only have exacerbated the situation further. Was it fair that she had to do this? Certainly not, but that's unfortunately part of living in a world that is unequal and unjust. I myself have learned over the years that word selection and tone are as important, if not more so, than intent alone. How we say it often supersedes what we say.
As she finished the story, she noted, with some bitterness, that even when she was absolutely furious, people often thought that she looked cute. As a result, they had a hard time taking her seriously. I recall that this was one of my mother's pet peeves, as well. Without knowing better, years and years ago, I fought back against my latest disciplinary tongue-lashing by telling Mom that, You look cute when you get angry. I was all of nine or ten at the time. I must have picked it up from somewhere and assumed only that it was a kind of clever smart-assed retort, but the ferocity of my Mother's anger at that statement really surprised me. Later, of course, I understood why it had set her off so much. This idea of being consistently belittled and infantilized by men in ways few men would treat another man took a while for me to fully understand and take into account.
The boundaries that prevent women from reaching their own freedom are often the very same ones that keep men from understanding how to be good allies. This deeply complicates how they ought to aid them in that struggle. Additionally, I have come to understand how women are told to be people-pleasers first and foremost and in so doing warned to not rock the boat for any reason. This is something else the Friend spoke about, and though I do not doubt what she said, I have to say that this particular cultural expectation runs contrary with how I was brought up.
I myself came from a family of people with flashpoint tempers, regardless of sex. Anger is something I'm used to, in other words, and in my family, it was something of a simultaneous means of attack and a means of defense. Though I try to keep my own temper under wraps, if I'm upset enough for long enough, what comes out of me is so intense as to be frightening. This is why I try as best I can to not lose my cool. I certainly have listened to close female friends, partners, and lovers talk about the societal pressure to be calm and deferential at all cost and I acknowledge that those experiences were very real for them.
That, however, was not my experience growing up. My mother was never exactly the sort of person to restrain her passions. I can still remember some of the decibel-splitting lectures I received as a boy which could have peeled the paint off of walls. Both of my sisters have angry streaks as well, and this has regrettably led to more than a few verbal fights among us I'd rather not contemplate. We might have repressed certain things about ourselves, but conflict was not one of them.
I used to be very angry myself and I have only recently set it aside. Because of my own struggles and because of the nature of how I grew up, I don't usually feel threatened by people whose default setting is anger. Instead, I feel sorrow and compassion for them. Anger stems from a sense of brokenness and I wish for it to be healed and put aside. My own father's anger didn't really subside until recently when he began to have major health problems. My grandfather, my mother's father, was someone who was also very fiery and explosive. He did not let go of his quick temper until the cancer that would eventually take his life took with it his strength and will to keep struggling.
His behavior, those ghastly last months, was thoroughly out of character. My mother mentions how distressing it was to see someone who was a ball of energy become lethargic and non-committal. And it's probably not surprising that I've been attracted to people who do possess anger to some degree or another, though I have also discovered that these sorts of desires are unhealthy. We all have fatal attractions and mine is to anger, whether within myself or another person.
And, to conclude, we know the world we live in has significant problems and so we speak out against them. I'm glad we do. It's easy for me to feel outraged. That outrage is often effective in getting myself fired up and ready to go. But when I can make a personal connection to a situation based on someone I know in real life, I see a more complete picture. I see the ironies. I see the humanity. I see the tragedy. I see the human frailties we all possess to some degree. And when that happens, the nature of my anger changes. Feeling love for someone who has wronged you does not mean accepting one's fate or condoning what has happened. But it does mean that we take into account something beyond just our own individual response and try to entertain someone else's thought process, too.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Positive Depictions of Transgender Characters in Film: Roberta Muldoon
I found this quite by accident while doing a YouTube search. It is really interesting.
Revelation
This a reflection upon
all of the things
I was told
over-protectively
at ages
one should not be
distilled
like grain proof alcohol.
strong, painful at first.
but eventually
You’ll develop a tolerance
Monday, June 21, 2010
Invasion of Privacy: Sexual Orientation Edition
Today I scheduled an appointment with a GP for my yearly checkup. I'm not physically sick or injured at the moment, but I figured it would be worthwhile setting up an appointment anyway. While on Medicaid here in the District, an insured person is required to establish a particular primary case physician. This PCP is based at a specific location and is, of course, the person one sees in the event of a serious illness. I had meant to do this long before now and finally got around to it.
While on the phone with the scheduler I was asked a series of very rudimentary questions, as is typical. However, I have to say I was a bit blindsided by one of them, which I never would have expected in any context, for any reason. Do you identify as heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual?
At first I thought the person on the line surely was joking, but he was quite serious. Of course I responded truthfully, but the request seemed more than a bit invasive. Don't get me wrong. I wish we could all be completely honest with ourselves, but providing what has been a very damning bit of my identity to a complete stranger for the sake of statistical analysis seems a bit forward. While part of me was relieved to note that bisexuality was being taken seriously---in that it was actually listed as a available answer choice, another part of me felt it severely inappropriate to even be asked such a thing.
At what point does our sexual orientation need to be anyone's public domain? Like many people, I've certainly often wondered what a truly accurate count of LGBTs would look like if fear and stigma were not an complicating factor. I myself have tried over time to give people the freedom and courage to come out. Still, I don't think I personally would ever feel comfortable confronting someone with such a bold request, especially a total stranger, in effect putting them on the spot. I've never been asked to state my sexual orientation before for any reason, and I can't help but think that those with a higher standard and quality of care are never asked such things.
The clinic that was closest to my home was one of the few sites in the District to take Medicaid patients. I'm sure that those with private plans likely don't have to take what they can get as I do. And I'm also sure if I dug deep enough into the matter or did my research I could find out the reasons why low-income residents are solicited for their sexual orientation. I do, however, worry that the information collected could be used in improper ways. Even in this day and age, they could be used for purposes of blackmail, regardless of how many times one is assured that the data collected is confidential.
The District has an unusually high number of residents who are HIV+ and live below the poverty line so perhaps this rather unorthodox request was put in place to best assist those who wish to prevent its spread. Yet, we seem to have no issue taking liberties that may compromise basic rights of privacy for those who don't have the same material and intellectual advantages that we do.
This country has a history of treating those at the bottom like guinea pigs. The most prominent example I can think of is the Tuskegee syphilis experiment, but the sheer magnitude of unethical human experimentation in this country alone is absolutely staggering. I am not implying that the information collected from me was taken in a spirit of medical sadism, but rather to note that it is often exceptionally easy to disregard freedom of choice in a rush to solve a problem. Manipulation of this sort is a slippery slope and while most practitioners stay within an ethical grey area, there are always a few here and there who take liberties.
As for me, I would have preferred to have been told upfront, before a single question had been asked, that I would be solicited for my sexual orientation. It's not so much the question itself I object to as the way it was presented and the lack of adequate methodology. I was not told how my answer would be recorded, what it was to be used for, that I was under no obligation to answer the question, and how my privacy was to be protected. In situations like these, careless record keeping easily ends up with personal information being compromised. We've all read about what happens when potentially sensitive personal data ends up being tossed into dumpsters without being shredded, or how easy it is for hackers to compromise even protected computer systems. Though it may be impossible to have a truly impenetrable system of defense, organizations and entities can still take safeguards to limit potential breaches.
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