"Bless, O Lord, the two Houses of Parliament now assembled, and overrule their deliberations for the people's good."
An old prayer in the Church of Scotland, often recited before the opening of Parliament.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Quote of the Week
"Bless, O Lord, the two Houses of Parliament now assembled, and overrule their deliberations for the people's good."
An old prayer in the Church of Scotland, often recited before the opening of Parliament.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Saturday Video
Raincoats performances are often raw. One has to see these as part of the charm, I find.
Friday, February 04, 2011
Solace
Answers from the Whirlwind
by Amit Majmudar
Has birth ever peeled you apart
Has birth ever hollowed you out
For I have seen a woman being transfigured
Into lips her water breaking like the first
Ocean spilling between the thighs of creation
And then between those lips her firstborn crowning
Like a tongue that dips to test the light and scalds
Have you waited in darkness
With nothing but water to breathe
Have you felt pain with anything you’ve made
Or do you drop these fish egg worlds black beads
In tide pools of vacuum to hatch for themselves
Do your teeth hurt when you taste sweetness
How about ice have you heard
Ice click against your teeth no what about
The time you let the Arctic drop out of
Your steaming mouth and bob a while and take
Does too much winter make your temples ache
Say do you know what a whip
Feels like no how about a whip of rain
The glaciers do the glaciers you drove north
And corralled in a lattice of locked water
They dream of the freedom to flow once again
The speed and freedom that you took from them
And throw their flanks at the Tropic of Cancer
Like an electric fence and stagger backward
Grasses fossils cities sticking to their soles
Have you dwelt in the house of the not
Yet born and have you paced its floor without
The benefit of footsteps could you handle
Not remembering a thing between creation
And your birthday could you sleep in that
Pitch perfect dark of not existing yet
And listen and listen unable to add to it
Even the sound of your breathing
Have you stood in the deafening rushes and witnessed migration
On the wing and known from this the cold was coming
Have you hidden your head in a hide not your own
Or shot a creature for its fur and muscle
We’ve fired the arrows and followed a thread
Of blood out of our hunger’s labyrinth
We who had clean hands once and did not need
To wash the fruit we picked or check its skin
Do you feel it down your left arm when your heart
Thirsts for blood and when it thirsts for friendship
Do you feel it in your throat and try to swallow
Does gravity wear on your posture
Does death creep over fields toward you like
The shadow of a white cloud flattening
The grasses it advances over tell me has
Desire ever stripped the stringy husk
Off of your mind and shown you still unripe
If I had been there when you measured out
The earth would you have made it more my size
Do you know how to work with a shovel
Is it graves or foundations you know how to dig
Could you tie me a tourniquet if I required one
How about shoelaces speaking of which
Do you have an idea what it’s like to trip
And fall when you do not expect it arms
Shooting out we double over like we’ve just
Been punched and thump a few steps forth
But we stay on our feet and if there is
A hand that catches us brushes us off
It is not yours
Speak if you have something more than wisdom
Speak if you have sympathy
Would you live with leviathan do you love
Those creatures more who do not stand upright
Were you proud when you filed his teeth
To points so sharp you wouldn’t risk a finger
And once you tacked the muscle to his jawbone
Did you grab the still slack snout and open shut
And open shut the maw and think to yourself
Ah this will teach the world what terror is
Do you who know all arts know how to hunger
You may not have that word it has to do
Only in part with the mouth and the stomach
Let me explain it we are little claws
That rake life back and forth like hands in water
Stirring mixing atoms of meat and leaf
Atoms of blood and sap commingling kingdoms
Beast eating plant beast eating beast
Bug eating plant plant eating sun bird eating bug
Beast tipping over in a grunt of risen dust
Bird falling with the small sound camouflaged
Among the raindrops bug snapped in mid dusk
By the tongue of the twilight
Plant withering stem geyser’s spray of leaves
Splashing to earth
So many crisscrossing hungers they darken the soil
Make it fertile make it hungry too for rain
Remodeling desert into wilderness
Who paved roads when they found themselves blocked off
From one another by the wilderness
Who bruised their heels against the wilderness
Who named it tasted every leaf of it at least once
Who remembered which was medicine and which
Was food and which was poison shuffled with
The rest its green no different to the eye
Who sawed and sanded it to crib and casket
And who did that to the wilderness Lord God
With nothing but hands
by Amit Majmudar
Has birth ever peeled you apart
Has birth ever hollowed you out
For I have seen a woman being transfigured
Into lips her water breaking like the first
Ocean spilling between the thighs of creation
And then between those lips her firstborn crowning
Like a tongue that dips to test the light and scalds
Have you waited in darkness
With nothing but water to breathe
Have you felt pain with anything you’ve made
Or do you drop these fish egg worlds black beads
In tide pools of vacuum to hatch for themselves
Do your teeth hurt when you taste sweetness
How about ice have you heard
Ice click against your teeth no what about
The time you let the Arctic drop out of
Your steaming mouth and bob a while and take
Does too much winter make your temples ache
Say do you know what a whip
Feels like no how about a whip of rain
The glaciers do the glaciers you drove north
And corralled in a lattice of locked water
They dream of the freedom to flow once again
The speed and freedom that you took from them
And throw their flanks at the Tropic of Cancer
Like an electric fence and stagger backward
Grasses fossils cities sticking to their soles
Have you dwelt in the house of the not
Yet born and have you paced its floor without
The benefit of footsteps could you handle
Not remembering a thing between creation
And your birthday could you sleep in that
Pitch perfect dark of not existing yet
And listen and listen unable to add to it
Even the sound of your breathing
Have you stood in the deafening rushes and witnessed migration
On the wing and known from this the cold was coming
Have you hidden your head in a hide not your own
Or shot a creature for its fur and muscle
We’ve fired the arrows and followed a thread
Of blood out of our hunger’s labyrinth
We who had clean hands once and did not need
To wash the fruit we picked or check its skin
Do you feel it down your left arm when your heart
Thirsts for blood and when it thirsts for friendship
Do you feel it in your throat and try to swallow
Does gravity wear on your posture
Does death creep over fields toward you like
The shadow of a white cloud flattening
The grasses it advances over tell me has
Desire ever stripped the stringy husk
Off of your mind and shown you still unripe
If I had been there when you measured out
The earth would you have made it more my size
Do you know how to work with a shovel
Is it graves or foundations you know how to dig
Could you tie me a tourniquet if I required one
How about shoelaces speaking of which
Do you have an idea what it’s like to trip
And fall when you do not expect it arms
Shooting out we double over like we’ve just
Been punched and thump a few steps forth
But we stay on our feet and if there is
A hand that catches us brushes us off
It is not yours
Speak if you have something more than wisdom
Speak if you have sympathy
Would you live with leviathan do you love
Those creatures more who do not stand upright
Were you proud when you filed his teeth
To points so sharp you wouldn’t risk a finger
And once you tacked the muscle to his jawbone
Did you grab the still slack snout and open shut
And open shut the maw and think to yourself
Ah this will teach the world what terror is
Do you who know all arts know how to hunger
You may not have that word it has to do
Only in part with the mouth and the stomach
Let me explain it we are little claws
That rake life back and forth like hands in water
Stirring mixing atoms of meat and leaf
Atoms of blood and sap commingling kingdoms
Beast eating plant beast eating beast
Bug eating plant plant eating sun bird eating bug
Beast tipping over in a grunt of risen dust
Bird falling with the small sound camouflaged
Among the raindrops bug snapped in mid dusk
By the tongue of the twilight
Plant withering stem geyser’s spray of leaves
Splashing to earth
So many crisscrossing hungers they darken the soil
Make it fertile make it hungry too for rain
Remodeling desert into wilderness
Who paved roads when they found themselves blocked off
From one another by the wilderness
Who bruised their heels against the wilderness
Who named it tasted every leaf of it at least once
Who remembered which was medicine and which
Was food and which was poison shuffled with
The rest its green no different to the eye
Who sawed and sanded it to crib and casket
And who did that to the wilderness Lord God
With nothing but hands
The Male Ally Progress Report
In the beginning, when I tried my hand at contributing to Feminist discourse, I had one simple goal. I wanted to known as the male ally who got it. Or, in other words, I wished to be the man who really understood. Having been equally as sickened and repulsed by misogyny, sexism, and violence against women, I wanted to be a shining example of a male not discouragingly indebted to these problematic issues. Egocentrism was not my ulterior motive; even though positive reinforcement from others was always appreciated, this was a task undertaken in a spirit of self-discovery. Reaching a greater audience and making progress within myself became a strong personal challenge. In spite of all my initial awkward fumbles, I acknowledge now the vast amount of progress made. The struggle has been an ultimately affirming and beneficial one, though at the start, I was fearful sometimes that all my efforts were in vain.
When I read the writings of many male allies today, I see many of these very same desires. To be different from the norm is the initial, universal impetus that drives each of us to the same end. This motivates us to learn, to keep seeking the truth, and to risk stating opinions that can and will need to be tweaked periodically. When my study and observation began, I found myself being corrected numerous times for weaknesses in my argument or for internalized bias. My privilege was regularly and adamantly told to be kept in check. Trusted female friends I used as a sounding board were kind enough to point out gaping holes in arguments soon to be publicly submitted, but they understandably missed a few sometimes. I was sometimes roundly criticized when I was sure I was going to be validated. Female friends and I also got into energetic debates over these same ideas that were at times rigorous, but rarely mean-spirited or hurtful.
I suppose I was stubborn enough to keep trying. As you'll recall, I wanted to be different. Other men could succumb to the same traps, but not I. Perhaps I even had enough of a noble impulse to hope that men would follow my example, using my words and my path as a guide through unfamiliar territory. Regardless of intention, once I've put my mind to something, I'll work at it long enough and hard enough that progress eventually will be made. If I had to offer any words of advice to other male allies, it would be this: work hard and try not to take criticism too personally. Nowadays, I'll often read their essays and cringe a bit at a few inartful sentences or a smattering of unrefined arguments here and there. The discomfort is not because I find no worth in what is written, but rather it's due to the fact that I see much of the way I used to be in their composition and presentation of ideas. What I probably should be doing is viewing the potential, rather than obsessing over the imperfections. That's a key kernel of wisdom I know I ought to apply to myself as well.
It wasn't until I made those first few tentative baby steps that I was able to analyze my motives in greater detail. Why was I really so inclined to be a male feminist? Was it really as simple as I had led myself to believe? This is not to say that there was something somehow disingenuous about my approach starting out. It was instead the acknowledgment that I had lived an thoroughly unexamined life in some respects. With time, getting it took on richer, more introspective forms. Before, I saw things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror. Inspired by Feminist writings and my own willful introspection, I began to unpack my own gender identity, finding it to not be neither exclusively male, nor even exclusively female. I started to once again deconstruct my sexual orientation and drew surprising conclusions from it. More recently, I began to actively question masculinity in general in addition to femininity. It is this stage in which I most recently find myself, seeking parallels between that which is male and that which is female, all this while poking around in the cavernous spaces of gender. What I will say is that I certainly have my work cut out for me.
This is my firm belief. In time, we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely. All that we know now is partial and incomplete, but then we will know fully. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, thought like a child, and reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, I no longer used childish ways. We all begin this journey as metaphorical children on our way to adulthood. Maturity of ideas and perspective is our ultimate overriding passion and ambition. We shall reach it after a time. We will know what we need to know in full, and what is not strictly essential we will know in part. So until that day, whenever it shall be, so long as we are moving forward, we ought not to be ashamed of prior steps. Our past should not bring shame, rather it should be an instructive means by which we measure where we once were. We all have naked baby pictures, on some level or another, but consigning them to mothball-scented closets is neither necessary, nor imperative. The most important progress report is our own, the one where we get to make up the grading scale.
When I read the writings of many male allies today, I see many of these very same desires. To be different from the norm is the initial, universal impetus that drives each of us to the same end. This motivates us to learn, to keep seeking the truth, and to risk stating opinions that can and will need to be tweaked periodically. When my study and observation began, I found myself being corrected numerous times for weaknesses in my argument or for internalized bias. My privilege was regularly and adamantly told to be kept in check. Trusted female friends I used as a sounding board were kind enough to point out gaping holes in arguments soon to be publicly submitted, but they understandably missed a few sometimes. I was sometimes roundly criticized when I was sure I was going to be validated. Female friends and I also got into energetic debates over these same ideas that were at times rigorous, but rarely mean-spirited or hurtful.
I suppose I was stubborn enough to keep trying. As you'll recall, I wanted to be different. Other men could succumb to the same traps, but not I. Perhaps I even had enough of a noble impulse to hope that men would follow my example, using my words and my path as a guide through unfamiliar territory. Regardless of intention, once I've put my mind to something, I'll work at it long enough and hard enough that progress eventually will be made. If I had to offer any words of advice to other male allies, it would be this: work hard and try not to take criticism too personally. Nowadays, I'll often read their essays and cringe a bit at a few inartful sentences or a smattering of unrefined arguments here and there. The discomfort is not because I find no worth in what is written, but rather it's due to the fact that I see much of the way I used to be in their composition and presentation of ideas. What I probably should be doing is viewing the potential, rather than obsessing over the imperfections. That's a key kernel of wisdom I know I ought to apply to myself as well.
It wasn't until I made those first few tentative baby steps that I was able to analyze my motives in greater detail. Why was I really so inclined to be a male feminist? Was it really as simple as I had led myself to believe? This is not to say that there was something somehow disingenuous about my approach starting out. It was instead the acknowledgment that I had lived an thoroughly unexamined life in some respects. With time, getting it took on richer, more introspective forms. Before, I saw things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror. Inspired by Feminist writings and my own willful introspection, I began to unpack my own gender identity, finding it to not be neither exclusively male, nor even exclusively female. I started to once again deconstruct my sexual orientation and drew surprising conclusions from it. More recently, I began to actively question masculinity in general in addition to femininity. It is this stage in which I most recently find myself, seeking parallels between that which is male and that which is female, all this while poking around in the cavernous spaces of gender. What I will say is that I certainly have my work cut out for me.
This is my firm belief. In time, we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely. All that we know now is partial and incomplete, but then we will know fully. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, thought like a child, and reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, I no longer used childish ways. We all begin this journey as metaphorical children on our way to adulthood. Maturity of ideas and perspective is our ultimate overriding passion and ambition. We shall reach it after a time. We will know what we need to know in full, and what is not strictly essential we will know in part. So until that day, whenever it shall be, so long as we are moving forward, we ought not to be ashamed of prior steps. Our past should not bring shame, rather it should be an instructive means by which we measure where we once were. We all have naked baby pictures, on some level or another, but consigning them to mothball-scented closets is neither necessary, nor imperative. The most important progress report is our own, the one where we get to make up the grading scale.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
For the People of Egypt
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No, I won't be afraid,
no, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And darlin', darlin', stand by me,
oh, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry,
no, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And darlin', darlin', stand by me,
oh, stand by me
Stand by me, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble won't you
stand by me, oh now stand by me
Oh, stand by me, stand by me, stand by me
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
What's Your Season?
Just for laughs
Let's stay in and we'll
Perfect our autographs
So when the people ask for them
We can oblige
Is that what we want, girls?
Not at all
Not at all
I must be losing track
If brown is the new black
But style's in denial
The models shall be hung
They're painted and they're dry
Pointed down the runway
Towards the sky
Just for fun
Let's go out tonight
And get our colors done
Oh when the seasons change
We'll look ridiculous
Is that what we want, boys?
Not at all
Not at all
I'm certain that summer's my season
So I can't take the fall for that reason
It hurts my complexion
And I hate my reflection
Just for once
Let's come out tonight
Let's come out tonight
I wanted to use this occasion
For trying to test my foundation
It hurts my complexion
But I hate my reflection
Without it
Not at all
Not at all
Let's stay in and we'll
Perfect our autographs
So when the people ask for them
We can oblige
Is that what we want, girls?
Not at all
Not at all
I must be losing track
If brown is the new black
But style's in denial
The models shall be hung
They're painted and they're dry
Pointed down the runway
Towards the sky
Just for fun
Let's go out tonight
And get our colors done
Oh when the seasons change
We'll look ridiculous
Is that what we want, boys?
Not at all
Not at all
I'm certain that summer's my season
So I can't take the fall for that reason
It hurts my complexion
And I hate my reflection
Just for once
Let's come out tonight
Let's come out tonight
I wanted to use this occasion
For trying to test my foundation
It hurts my complexion
But I hate my reflection
Without it
Not at all
Not at all
Shaken
It was my intention to post something else today, but I am unable to do so. I'm too otherwise distracted. In this circumstance, cleaving to the old aphorism of writing what one knows might be the soundest suggestion. Right now, I'm still recovering. Yesterday morning it seems that I had my second, and hopefully last hypertensive crisis. Though my pulse rate did reach as high as 120 beats per minute, blood pressure never reached elevated levels. During the last one, high blood pressure was an issue. I am always thankful for small favors. And, I should also note that frequent exercise has had an added benefit. It has strengthened my heart to the point that it does not need to beat as frequently or with greater force, even in crisis situations like these.
The cause of the emergency was a result of my having a food interaction to a strong anti-depressant. Called monoamine oxidase inhibitors, or MAOI's for short, they demand severe dietary restrictions. Eating certain types of food can trigger a hypertensive emergency of this sort. Because of these interactions, and the risk involved of people not minding their diet, psychiatrists are reluctant to administer them. If more people were prescribed this class of drug, then those who package, design, and make food would be careful not to include certain problematic ingredients. And until they do, it is still entirely possible to ingest reactive ingredients without even knowing it.
That's what happened yesterday. The culprit here is an amino acid called Tyramine, a chemical substance that the brain would ordinarily sweep out on its own. MAOI's prevent this from happening as part of their antidepressant effect. As a result, the levels of Tyramine can build to a dangerous saturation if Tyamine-containing foods are ingested. MAOI's are so rarely prescribed that I find I have to give a tutorial to EMT's and ER workers every time this happens. It's a more than a little frustrating, since they're supposed to be the experts, and I'm supposed to be the patient. But I have also learned long ago that being proactive and educating oneself on one's condition is the quickest path back to health.
My blood pressure and heart rate were closely monitored in the back of the ambulance. Pulse rate continued to be high, so it was determined I needed to go to the hospital. An IV was started, then I was passed on to the care of the ER staff. I stayed there for about two hours, at which point my pulse rate slowly returned to normal. I was then given an hefty injection of Ativan, a tranquilizer. That by itself did not decrease my pulse, but it did take my mind off of it, decreasing the worry. I quickly grew so sleepy that I could barely keep my eyes open. Once discharged and home, I slept for five or six hours, feeling much better afterward.
In any case, I discovered, the hard way, that a certain kind of margarine spread, brushed across two slices of bread for breakfast toast, also contains yogurt. Yogurt is a food I cannot have, and in any form. I knew exactly what was wrong the instant I felt the first warning signs. I knew that this was not going to be a mild reaction that could be addressed by deep breathing exercises and distraction. Sometimes during the minor ones I can take a short walk and get my mind off of it. This was not going to be the case here. Terrified, I fell to the carpeted floor, my pulse rate now going through the roof. I said a quick prayer, Please God, don't let me die. It was, in fact, unlikely that I was going to die, but panic sets in, along with fears of imminent catastrophe.
At first I tried to call my girlfriend, but it turns out that she was sitting in the Dentist chair and unable to take the call, though it was a couple hours later before I realized where she was. I then somehow decided I needed to call my father, but ended the call immediately after dialing. He would be no help, miles away as he is. The only available tool at my disposal was to call 911. Most gratefully, paramedics, followed by the Fire Department, arrived no less than five minutes later. I am fortunate to live within walking distance from both.
If I could change things around to make the process run more smoothly, I would opt for a simple solution of additional education for medics, nurses, and doctors. But before I sound too critical, I want to note that the people who worked on me in the ER were wonderfully helpful and efficient. And to return to the subject of being proactive, I somehow managed to grab the pertinent medication bottle, then sat it down on the dining room table, so that the paramedics knew the cause of the problem immediately. I've been visiting doctors and having tests run for so many months now that I keep all my insurance information in a folder, and I reflexively grabbed it, too. This saved time and spared additional hassle.
Welcome to the American health care system. If you want efficient care, make sure to have your insurance card glued to yourself at all times, else you will deal with billing snafus for months later. But I digress. My memories of this experience are not linear, so I recognized I've not written this in such form. The chain of events seems a bit like a nightmare, and I'm hoping this will be the last nightmare for a while.
The cause of the emergency was a result of my having a food interaction to a strong anti-depressant. Called monoamine oxidase inhibitors, or MAOI's for short, they demand severe dietary restrictions. Eating certain types of food can trigger a hypertensive emergency of this sort. Because of these interactions, and the risk involved of people not minding their diet, psychiatrists are reluctant to administer them. If more people were prescribed this class of drug, then those who package, design, and make food would be careful not to include certain problematic ingredients. And until they do, it is still entirely possible to ingest reactive ingredients without even knowing it.
That's what happened yesterday. The culprit here is an amino acid called Tyramine, a chemical substance that the brain would ordinarily sweep out on its own. MAOI's prevent this from happening as part of their antidepressant effect. As a result, the levels of Tyramine can build to a dangerous saturation if Tyamine-containing foods are ingested. MAOI's are so rarely prescribed that I find I have to give a tutorial to EMT's and ER workers every time this happens. It's a more than a little frustrating, since they're supposed to be the experts, and I'm supposed to be the patient. But I have also learned long ago that being proactive and educating oneself on one's condition is the quickest path back to health.
My blood pressure and heart rate were closely monitored in the back of the ambulance. Pulse rate continued to be high, so it was determined I needed to go to the hospital. An IV was started, then I was passed on to the care of the ER staff. I stayed there for about two hours, at which point my pulse rate slowly returned to normal. I was then given an hefty injection of Ativan, a tranquilizer. That by itself did not decrease my pulse, but it did take my mind off of it, decreasing the worry. I quickly grew so sleepy that I could barely keep my eyes open. Once discharged and home, I slept for five or six hours, feeling much better afterward.
In any case, I discovered, the hard way, that a certain kind of margarine spread, brushed across two slices of bread for breakfast toast, also contains yogurt. Yogurt is a food I cannot have, and in any form. I knew exactly what was wrong the instant I felt the first warning signs. I knew that this was not going to be a mild reaction that could be addressed by deep breathing exercises and distraction. Sometimes during the minor ones I can take a short walk and get my mind off of it. This was not going to be the case here. Terrified, I fell to the carpeted floor, my pulse rate now going through the roof. I said a quick prayer, Please God, don't let me die. It was, in fact, unlikely that I was going to die, but panic sets in, along with fears of imminent catastrophe.
At first I tried to call my girlfriend, but it turns out that she was sitting in the Dentist chair and unable to take the call, though it was a couple hours later before I realized where she was. I then somehow decided I needed to call my father, but ended the call immediately after dialing. He would be no help, miles away as he is. The only available tool at my disposal was to call 911. Most gratefully, paramedics, followed by the Fire Department, arrived no less than five minutes later. I am fortunate to live within walking distance from both.
If I could change things around to make the process run more smoothly, I would opt for a simple solution of additional education for medics, nurses, and doctors. But before I sound too critical, I want to note that the people who worked on me in the ER were wonderfully helpful and efficient. And to return to the subject of being proactive, I somehow managed to grab the pertinent medication bottle, then sat it down on the dining room table, so that the paramedics knew the cause of the problem immediately. I've been visiting doctors and having tests run for so many months now that I keep all my insurance information in a folder, and I reflexively grabbed it, too. This saved time and spared additional hassle.
Welcome to the American health care system. If you want efficient care, make sure to have your insurance card glued to yourself at all times, else you will deal with billing snafus for months later. But I digress. My memories of this experience are not linear, so I recognized I've not written this in such form. The chain of events seems a bit like a nightmare, and I'm hoping this will be the last nightmare for a while.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
The Latest Multi-track Offering
I know this song well, so it didn't take long to record. Backing guitar track + melody vocal track + harmony vocal track = Finished. Every musician, or for that matter, vocalist stumbles across songs that are well-suited for their range and style. I often try to challenge myself as best I can, but songs like these are easy for me.
Right now, I don't really have the energy or focus for much else. And for a bit of interesting history, this song reached #1 in 1958 in both the pop and country charts. The odd thing is, I don't really consider this a country song by any stretch of the means.
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
When I feel blue in the night
And I need you to hold me tight
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Right now, I don't really have the energy or focus for much else. And for a bit of interesting history, this song reached #1 in 1958 in both the pop and country charts. The odd thing is, I don't really consider this a country song by any stretch of the means.
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
When I feel blue in the night
And I need you to hold me tight
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam
I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine
Anytime night or day
Only trouble is, gee whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away
I need you so that I could die
I love you so and that is why
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream
Monday, January 31, 2011
Egypt's Struggle is also Our Own
I have watched the violence and the revolt in Egypt with a heavy heart. On one hand, I am overjoyed to see a people long held in shackles struggling to attain freedom. I hope this sentiment will someday encircle the world, so that, as it is written, the wolf and the lamb will live together. As a pacifist, however, it causes me much distress to see police out in the street, blazes set alight, and the familiar signs of overheated passion. In observing everything from a distance of thousands of miles, I am forced to confront my own beliefs. It may be that physical force alone can bring needed reform and change. But, as others far wiser than I have noted, war and warlike impulses are easy, but peaceful solutions are difficult.
As it is written,
The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. For who knows a person’s thoughts except their own spirit within them? In the same way no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. What we have received is not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us. This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual realities with Spirit-taught words. The person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit. The person with the Spirit makes judgments about all things, but such a person is not subject to merely human judgments, for,
“Who has known the mind of the Lord
so as to instruct him?”
Many self-professed Christians have ignored this crucial passage. Count me as one who has not. As is my wont, my thoughts return to the past. Centuries ago, a church in ancient Corinth had grown exceptionally dysfunctional. Its members frequently assumed that freedom of belief in Jesus meant anything was permissible. The outward climate of the city beyond the church walls was full of corruption, bad influence, rivalry, and pettiness. As such, the Corinthians struggled mightily with how they ought to live in this world, and not be of this world. It is a dilemma with which we are consumed in our own time. Even if religious belief was removed from consideration altogether, this difficult question laid before us would work well as a statement of purpose. We can, and should, rage against the dying of the Light.
“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.
I for one do not ascribe to such a necessarily stark struggle. Regardless of intention, I've been wary of oversimplification. To some, the eternal conflict laid out before us is that of good versus evil. The Early Friends, who lived in 17th Century England did hold such a belief among them. They lived, it should be noted, in a time of great persecution and corresponding social upheaval. The old rules, along with the world, had been turned upside down. A king had been toppled from the throne, then beheaded. An experiment in nascent democracy swiftly became a military dictatorship under the control of Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. Quakerism was one of many competing sects in a peculiar time, which to many seemed apocalyptic.
I have enclosed several passages below from a particularly instructive essay written by Conservative Friends. I do not believe in all of it, but I believe in enough that it merits inclusion. For the sake of content, I have modified a few words and phrases here and there.
The first generation of Friends developed the term "Lamb’s War" to portray the struggle of Christ with the forces of Satan or evil. For early Friends this was not an abstract theological concept but a reality that they experienced themselves, immersed in this epic struggle that was occurring on a cosmic, national and individual level.
To them, there was something inherently warlike about the struggle between Light and darkness. They did not see war in peace as a contradiction in terms.
This struggle touched all areas of early Friends’ lives - personal relationships, economic relationships, political relationships, religious relationships, etc. Friends came into conflict with the state when they were obedient to Christ’s injunction not to take oaths and to swear not. They refused military service and the payment of tithes. They avoided the vain social customs of their day. They held forth for honest dealings and forthrightness in speech. They avoided the vain amusements, diversions and fashions of the day, choosing clothing that was simple, modest and a witness for their faith. They took seriously scriptural injunctions in their moral behavior.
For first-generation Friends, the Lamb's War was a struggle of an absolute nature, with no room for compromise and lukewarm commitment. Nor did Early Friends see themselves as having initiated this struggle. They understood that this battle was led by Jesus Christ and that they were His followers being led into this great and epic spiritual battle. It was a holy war. The weapons provided by God were spiritual in nature, as opposed to the carnal weapons used by the Lamb’s opponents.
If we seek our own inward purity based on some standard, we ourselves are believers in this same basic idea. Such attitudes are common in times of strife and turbulence. In a prior epoch, many of us might well believe that the Second Coming is close at hand. Some of us still do. In a Quaker context, it is often difficult to try to impose any standardized liturgy or orthodoxy. When individual Truth, based on the primacy of direct revelation with God is valued most, nudging Friends towards a greater, more universal realization proves to be a challenge. Progressives and liberals also place high value upon individual thought and reflection, which often means that its leaders must necessarily be unusually gifted and charismatic to be able to speak for everyone. Reaching resolution by consensus is often a task only for those with Zen-like, if not Job-like patience. Democracy is lopsided and asymmetric, but it is also a distinctly American religion.
This tendency in the western world to elevate humans and the hoped for march to a freer and more decent world have led to a belief in secularism that dominates in western Europe and increasingly also in the United States. It has been especially opposed in the U.S. by Evangelical Christians and Roman Catholics, with resultant deep divisions that have polarized American society.
Other dividing forces are at work, such as an increasing polarization in this country between the rich and the poor. The media and the entertainment industry - which are allied to a mass, materialistic, consumer society - increasingly dominate our culture, even its religious aspects, and Christian services regretfully become a type of superficial entertainment. The physical environment is being plundered and irretrievably changed, with mass extinctions of many species and alteration of the physical environment on which we depend on for ecological services. We expect to have a wide variety of food available to us, sometimes grown 6,000 miles away. Our federal government has taken on a debt of unimaginable size that depends for financing on people in other parts of the world, especially Asia. Should something panic the holders of the U.S. debt, the meltdown of our economy and the society built upon it would be catastrophic.
Even in a secular setting, I doubt most of this would be challenged. And this, of course, begs the question. What do we do now? My humble answer is that a vulnerability for the sake of growth is the greatest need. The world tells us the exact opposite. Protect your left flank. Never show weakness. Check your armor constantly for chinks. Be wary of those who might stab you in the back. But I have found that if we allow ourselves the ability and the agency to be both unguarded and naked, this display inspires others to follow our lead. We can only have true dialogue when we are speaking honestly with one another. And, moreover, the process itself takes time. We want immediate results on our own terms alone, and God's purpose never takes human form. I may not achieve world peace by myself, but I might well be able to discern my own role in the proceedings.
It all starts somewhere. Often the genesis is inauspicious, beginning with one or two courageous people. Others join in, and the process continues from there.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Quote of the Week
"The one certain way for a woman to hold a man is to leave him for religion."- Muriel Spark, The Comforters
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Some Things Never Change
Now that you've found your paradise
This is your Kingdom to command
You can go outside and polish your car
Or sit by the fire in your Shangri-la
Here is your reward for working so hard
Gone are the lavatories in the back yard
Gone are the days when you dreamed of that car
You just want to sit in your Shangri-la
Put on your slippers and
sit by the fire
You've reached your top and
you just can't get any higher
You're in your place and
you know where you are
In your Shangri-la
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care
You can't go anywhere
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la
The little man who gets the train
Got a mortgage hanging over his head
But he's too scared to complain
'Cos he's conditioned that way
Time goes by and he pays off his debts
Got a TV set and a radio
For seven shillings a week
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la,
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la
And all the houses in
the street have got a name
'Cos all the houses in the street
they look the same
Same chimney pots, same little cars,
same window panes
The neighbors call to tell you
things that you should know
They say their lines,
they drink their tea,
and then they go
They tell your business
in another Shangri-la
The gas bills and the water rates,
and payments on the car
Too scared to think about
how insecure you are
Life ain't so happy in
your little Shangri-la
Shangri-la, Shangri-la
Put on your slippers
and sit by the fire
You've reached your top and
you just can't get any higher
You're in your place and
you know where you are
In your Shangri-la
Sit back in your old rocking chair
You need not worry, you need not care
You can't go anywhere
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la,
Shangri-la, Shangri-la, Shangri-la
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Sound Familiar?
Those of you who listened to and watched the State of the Union speech may have noticed some similarities.
Here's Bill Clinton during the 1992 campaign. I should add that this clip is now a mere nineteen years old.
Here's Bill Clinton during the 1992 campaign. I should add that this clip is now a mere nineteen years old.
CLINTON: Well, I've been governor of a small state for 12 years. I'll tell you how it's affected me. Every year Congress and the president sign laws that make us do more things and gives us less money to do it with. I see people in my state, middle class people -- their taxes have gone up in Washington and their services have gone down while the wealthy have gotten tax cuts.
I have seen what's happened in this last 4 years when -- in my state, when people lose their jobs there's a good chance I'll know them by their names. When a factory closes, I know the people who ran it. When the businesses go bankrupt, I know them.
And I've been out here for 13 months meeting in meetings just like this ever since October, with people like you all over America, people that have lost their jobs, lost their livelihood, lost their health insurance.
What I want you to understand is the national debt is not the only cause of that. It is because America has not invested in its people. It is because we have not grown. It is because we've had 12 years of trickle down economics. We've gone from first to twelfth in the world in wages. We've had 4 years where we've produced no private sector jobs. Most people are working harder for less money than they were making ten years ago.
It is because we are in the grip of a failed economic theory. And this decision you're about to make better be about what kind of economic theory you want, not just people saying I'm going to go fix it but what are we going to do? I think we have to do is invest in American jobs, American education, control American health care costs and bring the American people together again.
A Few Musings on Illness
At the moment, I am dealing with two simultaneous autoimmune diseases. One is psoriasis, which in the last seven months has produced one severe outbreak after another. As I understand it, I have the genetic history for it. My Grandfather, my mother's father, had frequent issues with psoriasis, even suffering with several places at once on his body that routinely cracked and bled. If he were still alive, I'd ask him about the age of onset, but then again, he was never one to open up about illness. If I were to arrange a seance, I'd first ask him what his strategies were for coping with multiple chronic diseases and disorders.
The second issue is autoimmune thyroid disorder, which I noted in yesterday's blog entry. Having had it formally diagnosed, I am now aware of the effects in a way I wasn't before now. There are times where swallowing is difficult and I stumble over my words. Both are a result of the swollen thyroid gland pushing against the larynx. It's a distressing notion to contemplate that my body seems to have turned on itself, and seeing enemies where there are none, is attacking healthy tissue. My symptoms will only increase with time, but I don't want to wait, helplessly, for the gland to be damaged by years of the process. I have been told that there is no cure, nor any treatment, but I'd gladly modify any aspect of my life to avoid feeling the way I do now. Even so, I sometimes resent the amount of effort I've had to put into just being healthy. Some people go an entire life without significant health concerns. Some of us are not so lucky.
I can't help but note the ironies. In my teens and early twenties I underwent long-lasting, utterly horrifying periods of depression. During some of them, I became suicidal. I attempted suicide seriously two or three times, coming close once. Then, as my condition improved, I embraced living and have gratefully never felt such thoughts since then. And yet, where I once wished to die, on my own terms, by my own hand, my body now has decided to try to kill certain organs, albeit slowly. It's a twist ending on what has been an often frustrating struggle for health. The exact reason why the whole process started is matter for debate, but it's likely to have been in the cards forever.
Is any of this fair? Often times I've wondered what the ultimate lesson is in all this. Is God trying to enrich my understanding of empathy and compassion? Am I being schooled in humility? Sometimes in these circumstances one has only queries for reflection. What I do know is that protracted, prolonged periods of suffering radically change one's worldview. I've never really embraced the notion that life is suffering. There are certain elements of life which fit that profile, but life is often quite good. In my situation, I've not really been able to enjoy life in a while. That's what I miss the most. I have much going for me right now, but illness has a way of overshadowing the good things.
The second issue is autoimmune thyroid disorder, which I noted in yesterday's blog entry. Having had it formally diagnosed, I am now aware of the effects in a way I wasn't before now. There are times where swallowing is difficult and I stumble over my words. Both are a result of the swollen thyroid gland pushing against the larynx. It's a distressing notion to contemplate that my body seems to have turned on itself, and seeing enemies where there are none, is attacking healthy tissue. My symptoms will only increase with time, but I don't want to wait, helplessly, for the gland to be damaged by years of the process. I have been told that there is no cure, nor any treatment, but I'd gladly modify any aspect of my life to avoid feeling the way I do now. Even so, I sometimes resent the amount of effort I've had to put into just being healthy. Some people go an entire life without significant health concerns. Some of us are not so lucky.
I can't help but note the ironies. In my teens and early twenties I underwent long-lasting, utterly horrifying periods of depression. During some of them, I became suicidal. I attempted suicide seriously two or three times, coming close once. Then, as my condition improved, I embraced living and have gratefully never felt such thoughts since then. And yet, where I once wished to die, on my own terms, by my own hand, my body now has decided to try to kill certain organs, albeit slowly. It's a twist ending on what has been an often frustrating struggle for health. The exact reason why the whole process started is matter for debate, but it's likely to have been in the cards forever.
Is any of this fair? Often times I've wondered what the ultimate lesson is in all this. Is God trying to enrich my understanding of empathy and compassion? Am I being schooled in humility? Sometimes in these circumstances one has only queries for reflection. What I do know is that protracted, prolonged periods of suffering radically change one's worldview. I've never really embraced the notion that life is suffering. There are certain elements of life which fit that profile, but life is often quite good. In my situation, I've not really been able to enjoy life in a while. That's what I miss the most. I have much going for me right now, but illness has a way of overshadowing the good things.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Why I'm Not Posting Today
The long awaited visit with the endocrinologist yesterday afternoon provided some medical answers at long last. It also reminded me that this is going to be a lengthy process from start to finish, whereby I have several more months of this. More testing. More doctor visits. More annoyance. I'll just have to be patient.
1. I have autoimmune thyroid disease. In it, the immune system attacks and damages the gland in question, causing it to swell. Eventually, the disease destroys enough of the thyroid that thyroid therapy, usually by way of medication, has to be started. However, that eventuality shouldn't happen for several more years, but it's still not a comforting notion. I'm not sure yet if the condition can be treated before it reaches that point.
2. I do have a tiny, benign, pituitary adenoma (tumor), but it's not secreting a hormone, nor damaging my body in any way. One less thing to worry about.
3. I still have an elevated level of estrodiol, which is a sex hormone that forms the basic building block of estrogen. This is in effect pulling down my testosterone level, which then causes other problems. It is likely that I will be prescribed a medication that is usually indicated for women undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Used quite successfully off label for hypogonadism, it suppresses estrodiol production, which boosts testosterone as a result.
4. I will still be injecting myself with testosterone for the foreseeable future. I will, however, vary the dosage slightly to see if I can reach a steady level. That has been a recent challenge.
5. I have some still-unexplained issue with insulin resistance. The problem mimics the symptoms of pre-diabetes. Tests will be run to determine if blood sugar is an issue.
To summarize, there's a lot here yet to be determined. Endocrine disorders are complex, intertwined, complicated creatures. Hormonal interaction is a convoluted, multifaceted process whereby the same basic chemical structure influences every organ or gland in radically different ways. I'm glad I know some things, but what I have to look forward to now is constant lab work, tests, and procedures. Each will slowly unravel a bit more of the larger puzzle. So until then, I'm just going to have to sit tight and make my way through this.
1. I have autoimmune thyroid disease. In it, the immune system attacks and damages the gland in question, causing it to swell. Eventually, the disease destroys enough of the thyroid that thyroid therapy, usually by way of medication, has to be started. However, that eventuality shouldn't happen for several more years, but it's still not a comforting notion. I'm not sure yet if the condition can be treated before it reaches that point.
2. I do have a tiny, benign, pituitary adenoma (tumor), but it's not secreting a hormone, nor damaging my body in any way. One less thing to worry about.
3. I still have an elevated level of estrodiol, which is a sex hormone that forms the basic building block of estrogen. This is in effect pulling down my testosterone level, which then causes other problems. It is likely that I will be prescribed a medication that is usually indicated for women undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Used quite successfully off label for hypogonadism, it suppresses estrodiol production, which boosts testosterone as a result.
4. I will still be injecting myself with testosterone for the foreseeable future. I will, however, vary the dosage slightly to see if I can reach a steady level. That has been a recent challenge.
5. I have some still-unexplained issue with insulin resistance. The problem mimics the symptoms of pre-diabetes. Tests will be run to determine if blood sugar is an issue.
To summarize, there's a lot here yet to be determined. Endocrine disorders are complex, intertwined, complicated creatures. Hormonal interaction is a convoluted, multifaceted process whereby the same basic chemical structure influences every organ or gland in radically different ways. I'm glad I know some things, but what I have to look forward to now is constant lab work, tests, and procedures. Each will slowly unravel a bit more of the larger puzzle. So until then, I'm just going to have to sit tight and make my way through this.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
All The Madmen
Regarding this video, I'll just say that it has multiple levels of meaning. If you get them, great. If you don’t, that’s fine too. But you should probably read more.
Day after day
They send my friends away
To mansions cold and gray
To the far side of town
Where the thin men stalk the streets
While the sane stay underground
Day after day
They tell me I can go
They tell me I can blow
To the far side of town
Where it's pointless to be high
For it's such a long way down
So I tell them that,
I can fly, I will scream,
I will break my arm
I will do me harm
Here I stand, foot in hand,
talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all...am I?
Don't set me free, I'm as heavy as can be
Just my Librium and me
And my E.S.T. makes three
'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with
the sadmen roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content
they're all as sane
As me
Day after day
They take some brain away
They turn my face around
To the far side of town
And tell me that it's real
Then ask me how I feel
Here I stand, foot in hand
talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all
Don't set me free,
I'm as helpless as can be
My libidos split on me
Gimme some good 'ole lobotomy
'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with the sadmen
Roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content
They're all as sane as me
Zane, Zane, Zane
Ouvre le Chien
Day after day
They send my friends away
To mansions cold and gray
To the far side of town
Where the thin men stalk the streets
While the sane stay underground
Day after day
They tell me I can go
They tell me I can blow
To the far side of town
Where it's pointless to be high
For it's such a long way down
So I tell them that,
I can fly, I will scream,
I will break my arm
I will do me harm
Here I stand, foot in hand,
talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all...am I?
Don't set me free, I'm as heavy as can be
Just my Librium and me
And my E.S.T. makes three
'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with
the sadmen roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content
they're all as sane
As me
Day after day
They take some brain away
They turn my face around
To the far side of town
And tell me that it's real
Then ask me how I feel
Here I stand, foot in hand
talking to my wall
I'm not quite right at all
Don't set me free,
I'm as helpless as can be
My libidos split on me
Gimme some good 'ole lobotomy
'Cause I'd rather stay here
With all the madmen
Than perish with the sadmen
Roaming free
And I'd rather play here
With all the madmen
For I'm quite content
They're all as sane as me
Zane, Zane, Zane
Ouvre le Chien
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Albanian: A Timely Film
This past weekend I saw a recent German/Albanian narrative film entitled simply The Albanian. Rarely have I seen a movie that confronts the fullest picture of the worldwide controversy regarding undocumented workers and illegal immigration. While its sympathies are clearly with immigrants, it does not resort to cheap sentimentality or agitprop. We recognize how the issue involves all the complications and tragedies of human lives. Suffice it to say that the entire matter is much more complicated than we ever usually contemplate, even for those of us who support immigration reform and human rights.
Arben, the main character, is a young Albanian man living in poverty in a small town out in the country. His life and the lives of family and friends seem nearly a century or more out of date. He has never heard of the internet and much of the basic technology we take for granted. As the film begins, he has returned from nearby Greece, where he worked for six months. Without much in the way of employment in his native country, the poorest in Europe, he has no choice but to undergo a stint elsewhere. While arriving home, he notes that his total payout was discouragingly much less than expected. The cost of attaining a visa and work permit alone was so costly that those two necessities consumed two-thirds of it.
There was a time, and not that long ago, where marriage everywhere was a matter of simple finance. Arben's girlfriend, Etleva has been betrothed, against her will, to a man in America who will forgive her family's debts in full. By implication, the two young lovers decide that they ought to try to have a child to prevent this from happening. Perhaps they weren't being as cautious as they should have been, but the consequences were the same nonetheless. It should be said, as well, that the child is not just some exercise in sabotage, so far as the both of them are concerned. The presumptive parents want a baby, especially Arben. He will later on in the film become fixated on the idea of being a father, even buying a small playpen designed for an infant, a impulsive, nonsensical purchase that only underscores his desire to be a father as well as his anguish as not being able to make his dreams a reality.
When the pregnancy becomes known to them, her family is predictably furious. They insist that Arben cannot marry their daughter unless he agrees to pay an obscenely high price to them for the privilege. He knows he cannot make this money through conventional means, but he does recall a relatively recent conversation with an acquaintance. The acquaintance, who makes a living on directing Albanian workers to other countries for employment, mentioned that he'd once made a decent amount of income by working in Germany. There is, however, one drawback. The cost of a German visa is even higher than in Greece, and far exceeds the cash he has on hand. However, it is still arranged for him to enter the country, but this time he will be abroad illegally. Speaking no German and having little in the way of reliable connections, this act promises a series of severe pitfalls and challenges.
Arben arrives immediately attempting to beat the clock. If he cannot return to Albania with the money before the baby is born, his girlfriend's family is likely to disown her. Birthing a fatherless child is unspeakably taboo in the customs of the village. Arben has only six or seven months to establish himself and save up the cash. His first job is low-paying work cleaning public restrooms, but it's sporadic work, at best. He quickly recognizes that honest work will not yield enough to make his stay worthwhile. At this point he boldly enters a shadowy netherworld where it is probably best to keep one's head down and not ask questions. For a time, he obliges.
Smuggling undocumented workers into Germany is big business on the black market. Unfortunately, this also means that violent thugs and elements of organized crime are heavily involved in the process. The benefits of transporting people of foreign extraction provide a relatively high payout at the end, but with that comes risk of arrest, severe bodily harm, or death. It is irony personified that Arben himself is in Germany illegally. Undocumented workers breaking the law to smuggle in other undocumented workers for pay is most telling, indeed. Caught in the middle of a double cross turf war for business and profit, Arben's boss is killed violently by a middle man. There the money source dries up entirely, forcing the Albanian to resort to brutal means. By this point, time is almost up.
Regardless of what immigration policies we or any other nation set out, they will not stop people from trying to enter our borders. They will not stop people from trying to enter anyone else's borders. The human brain is remarkably adept in solving challenging problems and even scaling walls where questions of starvation and economic inequality are concerned. Men and women with an empty stomach will turn to crime and vice if it fills their bellies. Anytime laws are established to prohibit something, be it alcohol, abortion, or illegal immigration, a black market immediately takes hold. Rarely are black markets conducted with a nod towards equality, fairness, respect, and safety.
Even now, some see fellow humans as little more than statistics, a dollar value draining our economy dry. And even with its inadequacies, legally mandated practices and laws contain basic safeguards to prevent such sinister conduct. These also provide legal recourse to punish those who engage in it anyway. Nefarious elements also reduce people to statistics and profit motive, but with this inhumane response, one also adds very real threat of violence and severe injury. Making honest steps to end global poverty is what is needed most. Not making short-sighted decisions that do not consider the greater consequences is also imperative.
But even if we cannot or will not make these massive strides, we can know that the issue itself goes well beyond baseless xenophobic platitudes about "illegals" taking our jobs, refusing to contribute their fair share in taxes, and emptying our coffers. Like Arben, undocumented workers often decide to leave in the first place because they cannot obtain wealth in their own countries. One could flippantly retort that this simply is not our problem. Ah, but it is our problem. It will continue to be our problem until we have devised a satisfactory solution. Build as many bogeymen as you wish, but it doesn't matter how high the fence reaches upward and across. And it also doesn't matter how judiciously you legislate, accuse, charge, prosecute, and deport. The source of the problem remains.
It has remained so for a long time.
One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to have dinner with him, so Jesus went to his home and sat down to eat. A woman of the streets, a prostitute, heard he was there and brought an exquisite flask filled with expensive perfume. Then she knelt behind him at his feet, weeping. Her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them off with her hair. Then she kept kissing his feet and putting perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know what kind of woman is touching him. She's a sinner!"
Jesus said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "say it."
"Two men were in debt to a moneylender. One owed him 500 denarii, and the other 50. But neither of them could repay him, so he kindly forgave them both, canceling their debts. Who do you suppose loved him more after that?"
Simon answered, "I suppose the one who had the larger debt canceled." Jesus said to him, "You have answered correctly."
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
We do not know why the woman in this story became a prostitute. It can be said, however, that few women, then as well as now, enter the profession unless they are in dire circumstances. Prostitution is an avenue many women (and sometimes men) from impoverished countries are channeled into through dangerous, debasing means. The woman in this parable has lavished devotion on Jesus with a perfume equal to two or three month's worth of wages. In that time, women were not supposed to learn from Rabbis like Jesus, but he broke that rule and many others. By allowing women to travel with him, Jesus was showing that all people are equal under God. Even prostitutes. Even undocumented workers. And with equality comes equal treatment and due process under the law.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Quote of the Week
"To what, then, can I compare the people of this generation? What are they like?
They are like little children who sit in the marketplace and shout to each other, 'A wedding song we played for you, the dance you simply scorned. A woeful dirge we chanted, too, but then you did not mourn.'
But wisdom is shown to be right by the lives of those who follow it."- Luke 7:30-32, 35.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Saturday Video
J'etais perdu dans la rue
fatigue et mal au cul
J'ai vu un petit cafe
avec une fille dedans
et je lui disais
'Puis-je m'asseoir aupres de toi
pour te regarder?
J'aimerais la compagnie de ton soleil.
Je ne veux pas plus que ca
Non, ca n'est pas une grande histoire
Encore un beau sourire
et apres ca je peux partir
'Puis-je m'asseoir aupres de toi
pour te regarder?
J'aimerais bien la compagnie de ton soleil.
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