Woolly Mutts

Have we been changed? ( A lot of words on a deep subject.)

So yesterday was all about remembering, though I doubt any of us, the whole world of us, will ever forget how we heard or where we were or what we saw.  Ten years.  Not nearly enough time to forget. Even a little.  As we commemorate with countless television specials and flags as facebook pictures and conversations with friends and loved ones, what has changed in us from that day when we watched people make the unthinkable choice to jump to their deaths rather than an even more horrible alternative?  Are we better, smarter, kinder, more tolerant?  Should we be?  I think so, yes.  In those days that followed, we were.  Help came from everywhere.  Food, water, medical help, simply sitting next to someone so they need not be alone with their fear; all of those things became normal.  Simple people became extraordinary heroes.  While we remember those who perished, perhaps we should also remember who we were, who we became the day they died.

A few thoughts....

A huge number of people became afraid of the Muslim people because of the actions of radicals.  We all, every one of us, should have done our homework on these people. We've had plenty of time to do so.  They are all around us.  They are kind and peace loving.  They have families and loved ones that also died on 9/11.  They are beautiful and intelligent and faithful, and yet all these years later, the word Muslim is still spoken in a negative way.  No one who is part of an organized religion should point any negative fingers at these people. Somewhere out there in the world, there is some poor individual who is committing a horrible act and using the name of your God as his rationalization.  Count on it.  Crazy didn't find a home in the Middle East and stay there.  Crazy is everywhere and wears the name of every religion and every god.  AND, while we are doing our homework on the people of Islam, how about we go all out and research Jews, Hindus, Unitarians, Methodists, Buddhists, Sufies, Catholics, Fundamental Christians, Pagans, etc., etc.  How much more enlightened we might be!  You don't have to want to become part of a group in order to understand more about it.  Tolerance and understanding are powerful, beautiful things.  They are the stepping stones to peace.

 There are hundreds of people who ran into those burning buildings to save a life, any life, who are now dying of cancer.  A large number of those people do not have insurance.  A whole group of children turned 10 this year having never known their fathers. Burn victims struggle through every day.  Mothers and wives and husbands and children and sisters and brothers and friends still grieve, still have nightmares about their loved ones death.  Kind of makes being stuck in traffic or getting the wrong order at the drive through seem petty.  Not even blips on life's radar. I'm not suggesting that we carry the dark cloud of 9/11 around with us all the time, just let it help us keep some perspective. Life can be hard, but each moment, each breath is sacred.

Has the legacy of 9/11 made us more giving of ourselves?  I'm thinking no.  Food pantries still need food and volunteers to distribute it.  Literacy programs still need those willing to teach.  Almost every community agency or group that relies on volunteers to be effective are in need of willing people.  Surely, after seeing what good was accomplished through kind hearts 10 years ago, a spark of that should still be alive today.

 As the flags are carried in for the night and chants of "USA" become whispers, consider who we are.  We are Americans and being so does not make us superior to any other person living in any other country, it just means we live in America.   We have experienced and seen suffering in ways that can barely be imagined and we are not alone in this.  Pain is generous in her outpouring.   As Americans, let us be free from judgement and boastful proclamation.  Let us be kind and strong and willing to reach out a hand.   Let us have learned that broken hearts are the strongest and the quickest to offer love.

Let us be changed for the better.

 

 

Darkness devoid of stars.

Someone evil died today.  Well, technically, he died yesterday, but I didn't learn of it until this morning.  I don't get a newspaper or watch news broadcasts.  If it's important the information will find its way to me, and it did.  When I say he was evil, I mean REALLY evil.  He was evil in so many ways we know and probably many more that we don't.   I read one reporter describe him as the "spiritual leader" of a group of also evil men.  It bothers me even more that he would lead men down such a dark and horrible path by means of some spiritual message.  So many, many kinds of wrong.

I'm not going to say his name.  We all know of whom I write.  I think words, specifically names, have power and he has been given enough power.  His power is over, although I am very sure that there are many more evil men who have been waiting for the opportunity to step into his shoes.  The irrationality of it; my inability to wrap my mind around the way these men think is what frightens me the most.   It is a dangerous time in which we live.

Also frightening to me is the collective cry of joy over his death.  The groups of people chanting  and celebrating one man's death is troubling.  While I cannot disagree that the world is a slightly less evil place without him, actually celebrating his death doesn't feel right to me. All day I have rolled this over and over in my brain without much success in it making sense. I cannot make the pieces fit. Then a facebook friend posted this quote:

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
-- Martin Luther King, Jr

And there it is, truth beautifully spoken by MLK.  All the pieces put together indisputably.

So I will not exhaust any more mental resource or time on this subject.  I will end this post with a picture of one small violet blooming in the center of our front yard.  One little volunteer of simple joy.  A tiny bit of light driving out darkness. 

 

 

To each his own.

My class on Islam has come to an end.  I learned a great deal and none of it negative.  From the perspective of our teacher, a practicing Imam, to be a Muslim is a beautiful thing full of reverence and respect for God and for other people.  I now have my own copy of the Qu'ran and a new understanding, young though it may be, of the Muslim people. (Did you know that when the Qu'ran is read in mosque that it is sung?  The Imam sang a bit for us and it was very beautiful and inspiring to hear.) What I do not comprehend is the connection between the peace loving people of the Rockford mosque and the Holy Warriors in the daily news. In talking with another Muslim it was explained to me that as there are extremist in every group (abortion clinic bombers, etc) so there is in Islam.  When you are raised from birth to hate you come of age hating.  It is a cycle seen round the world. 

Up next is a 3 week class on World Religions - New Religious Movements.  The class is taught by Professor Kanwal Prashar, who I must confess I have a crazy little crush on.  He is 70 years old, Indian and Hindu.  He is also the head of the Rockford area Interfaith council.  He is kind, gentle, and just a tiny bit scattered.  Sort of like his brain is a random slot machine and when the rolling stops he talks about whatever comes up.  I, as previously mentioned, adore him, but my son, who had him as a professor in college, had a vastly different experience.  Really, I'd listen to him talk about anything.  The amount of knowledge he has about world religion is impressive, to put it mildly.  He also has an endearing little habit of saying "why not?", like anything is possible.  Crushing, I tell you.

Anyway, first class was Hare Krishnas and Radhaswamis, which are both off shoots of Hinduism.  The professors in-laws are Radhaswamis so he had specific knowledge there.  He is very, very careful to give us information without influence in any way.  Week two was Jehovah Witness and Scientology.  He was hoping to get a Jehovah Witness to come and speak to the class....maybe next week.  Since he had almost no knowledge about Scientology we watched an taped interview of L Ron Hubburd, who is now deceased.  My apologies to any who may be Scientologist, but that guy is a fruitcake.  Seriously.  You sort of had to see it to believe it, as many of our class commented.  His elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor, in fact, it might not have ever gotten off the ground.  It's my goal to be as open as possible as I learn about all these religious paths, but he didn't even make enough sense to get an idea of the basics.  Next week we study Eckankar, which I have much higher hopes for. 

It is really good for me to sit in a classroom with other truth seekers and absorb the information.  I am fascinated by not only the material being taught, but by the responses of my other classmates.  Learning is a very, very good thing at any stage of life.  I want more.

"No, I am not a Muslim, but would it matter if I was?"

Above is the answer I have given an alarming number of times since I have told people that I am taking a class about the nation of Islam.  "Are you a Muslim?", is the most typical response, followed closely by "why?".  Really?  Why not?

I am, indeed, taking a six week class on Islam.  It is held here in Rockford at our Muslim Community Center and Mosque....pictured below.

The new section is still under construction and we hope to be able to tour it at the end of the class session.  The class is offered through our local community college's Center for Learning in Retirement.  Though I am not retired, I am over 50, so I qualify and am pleased for the opportunity.

Last Wednesday I joined ten or eleven other "older" folks in the center's school library to begin our studies into the mystical world of Islam.  Not that Islam is any more mystical than any other religion, but in the times we live it holds a strange status as being on the other side of the fence, so to speak. I'm attending with my friend Nancy (Hi Nancy!) who brought the class to my attention in the first place.  Being our first time we entered tentatively and were immediately greeted by smiling men who pointed us toward our room.

Our teacher is the Imam Shpendim Nadzaku.  I can't even begin to pronounce it, though he is kind about our western attempts at the Arabic.  Even so, I wouldn't even try.  He is a tall, thin man with a kind disposition.  He is pictured below in front of the mosque.

The Imam was born in Albania, immigrated to New Jersey, and then did his Arabic studies in Saudi Arabia.  His English is impeccable, with the exception of a few Jersey "yous" thrown in from time to time.  His manner is patient and his desire transparent.  From the beginning he offered that no question should go unasked or unanswered.  He promised to take no personal offense and did not when one of the first questions was about his beard.  No, all Muslim married men do not have beards.  It is simply a choice to emulate Mohammad.  Makes sense to me.

It was, for me, an experience that I have never had before, one of being the minority in a environment.  My woman's uncovered red head and large earrings were in stark contrast to the white covered heads of the young women that passed the door.  I found all of them, man, woman, boy and girl to be incredibly beautiful.  As the class bells rang and children hurried past,  our class  agreed that school children are all the same regardless of religion or culture.  That, I think, was a good first step.

I am also a minority in the class itself as being the only one that was not classified as "christian".  As stated before, I believe in a creator/god, but in lifestyle I lean toward Buddhism.  Rose, seated to my left was  Catholic and several others were members of the same Methodist church.  You have to give those Methodists credit; they do their best to keep their minds open.  I can't say exactly why all the others were in attendance.  I, myself, am there to learn.  Knowledge is the best weapon against fear.

After one class, it sounds an awful lot like old testament christianity.  Names like Adam, Eve, and Noah came up, as did Jesus.  Islam is monotheistic...one god and only one.  No holy trinity, no salvation through blood.  Just you and god.  I especially enjoyed when the Imam talked of God's beautiful names.   Fascinating stuff. 

Am I a Muslim?  No, nor do I intend to be.  My goal is to be able to see them with the same eyes I see christians and jews and hindus, etc; with respect and understanding.  Just another way to look at god however he/she/it is perceived by others.  It is a privelege to live in a country where that opportunity is available to me. 

If you have thoughts you would like to share, they are welcome here.

Who will make things right. Or, maybe left.

I work in hippie-ville, and I say that in the most positive way possible.  For those unaware, I work in a not-for-profit fair trade store, meaning that everything we sell comes from about 50 different developing countries and the artisans are paid a fair, living wage to provide us with product to sell.  We also ask them to take care of their workers, children and the planet.  You can read more about fair trade on our website if you so choose. We have a wind turbine on the roof, frequently house concerts and green group meetings. Every flavor of organized religion (and probably a few that aren't organized), color, race and lifestyle choice walk through our doors at one point or another. In addition to our store, the building also houses the office of the esteemed Stanley Campbell and RUM (Rockford Urban Ministries). 

This pic makes Stan look a little intense, which he certainly can be, but in truth he is sweetheart and a champion hugger.  He is also a fierce activist.  He calls me Dearest (I used to think it was because he couldn't remember my name, but I'm pretty sure he's got it now), always says thank you and can talk anybody into doing anything.(the good kind of anything.)  The only person I know who wants peace more than I do is Stan, and that's saying something.  

Stan writes a weekly column in a local progressive newspaper.  You can read this weeks submission here. In the article he explains that he has the button pictured (click to embiggen) for sale here in the building.  Early in the day we had  already had signs of interest.  (For those local, if you want one ask at the desk. $3)  I have to admit that while I appreciate the sentiment and have nightmares featuring Sarah Palin I'm not sure I have what it takes to wear the button.

Here's what I love about Stan; HE has no problem with it AT ALL.He'll wear that button and hope you ask him why.  The whole oil spill thing just makes me crazy.  I'm torn between wanting to go down there and clean off animals until I drop, or find someone, anyone responsible and slap them silly.  But, exactly who is responsible? I mean, I'm all for hanging the CEO and any and all henchmen of BP by their toe nails, but really, who is asking for the oil in the first place. I am.  We are.  As Stan wrote in his intelligent column, if we drive or use petroleum based products we have to shoulder at least some of the blame.  Sure BP was hugely in the wrong to drill without a safety protocol to deal with events such as this, but if there was not such a huge appetite for the slimy, black stuff there would not have been a drill in the first place.  

Ah, the grim truth.  Stan had some great suggestions of actions to prevent feeling, or being powerless in the face of such overwhelming ugliness. Someone asked me today if I thought the spill was a sort of Divine wake up call. I can't answer that, but I think Mother Earth has tried to get our attention in countless more subtle ways and it appears that humans, in general, need to be reminded of our charge to care for her in bolder terms. 

As Ghandi said, we have to be the change.  Nobody else is going to make things right if we don't take our own personal responsibility.  Right, left, middle...it shouldn't take such a disaster to make us sit up and take notice. Take notice and take action.

A bad joke is still bad, even if 700,000 people think it's funny.

I love me some facebook.  I think it's about the best thing since sliced bread.  I was skeptical of social networking at first.  MySpace was full of youngsters looking for a place to hook up and I am neither young or hook-up able.  (for which my gratitude is endless)  Facebook has a home for everyone and every age.  Amazing Husband's 80ish father even has a page.  I have stayed connected with family and friends and re-connected with people I haven't talked to in years.  I LOVE that.  Love.  There are games that kill time (I prefer to think of it as a brain workout) and groups that help me keep up with favorite TV shows, and knitting heroes, and authors of beloved books, etc.  There is a little something for everyone, which is good.  Most of the time.

Yesterday I check in with facebook to discover that a new group has been added for all those Obama haters out there.  It comes with the following catchy title, complete with all caps and misspelled name:

DEAR LORD, THIS YEAR YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTOR, PATRICK SWAYZIE. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTRESS, FARAH FAWCETT. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE SINGER, MICHAEL JACKSON. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW, MY FAVORITE PRESIDENT IS BARACK OBAMA. AMEN

That's their official page graphic on the right.

Now, for the most part, I ignore this sort of thing.  I was a child of the 60's and I think a little dissension and protest isn't entirely bad.  In fact, I was more than a little disappointed that the concept of protest had apparently fallen asleep when Bush decided Iraq needed our help to collapse upon itself.  What the heck happened to "Hell no, we won't go"?  The fact that we are a country of diverse population and belief is part of what makes us great, right?  However, a joke, which after reading a great number of the comments is what it is being classified as, stops being funny when a death wish, no matter how innocently veiled, is included.

Now folks, if you don't care for the current leader of our country, I'm good with that.  Personally, it think it's a little early in the game to find so much fault considering the gosh awful mess that was left for him, but hey, I'm sure you've got your reasons.  Wanting him dead, even jokingly, crosses a dangerous line.  And, if that wasn't bad enough, asking your God to pull the trigger.  Really?  Funny?  Wow.

Here is the thing that I really have a problem with; I don't think the majority of the Obama haters even have their facts straight enough to form an intelligent opinion.  Most of them are so eager to get on the train to AntiObamaville that they will grab onto any ticket that passes by.  Do your research, people.  If you have issues with the health care bill, or the economy, or who really takes care of the First Dog, be sure you know the real truth and not just the truth being fed to you by Fred the barber, or the ladies of your bridge club, or even Fox News.  There any number of reliable, unbiased sources out there.  FactCheck is a good place to start.  Regardless of opinion, you're gonna have to endure the current administration for at least another couple of years.  Might be good to be clear on what is really worth expending this much energy.

And to you Believers, you might want to spend a little time making things right with your God.  While you might have thought, "If you want to make me happy, Lord, taking out the President would be a great place to start" was funny, I'm guessing He is less than amused.

Purpose

I love my job.  I know, I am such a broken record about this, but each and every time I drive home from work I am just amazed at how much I have enjoyed my day.   I've had some great jobs in my life; library, yarn store...hard to beat books and yarn, but this job, this job just sings to me.

I love that on my drive in I pass the Cadbury plant and some days can clear my sinuses with one good whiff of whatever batch of gum they are processing that day.  I love that the drive takes me past the river and Sinnissppi park, and very soon all the holiday lights there.  I love the diversity of religion that comes through the door and the way each and every one is embraced by all involved.  (Makes me get all dreamy about the possibility of peace.)  I love the concept of fair trade, the commitment to green practices and general earth kindness, but most of all, I LOVE the people.

Poor Ernesto from Guatemala who was searching for the Rescue Mission because he drinks too much beer and how we all struggled with our poor ability to speak Spanish in order to help him on his way.  He made the sign of the cross and blessed each of us before he left, and honestly, I really felt that blessing.  Arthur, who is at least 80 and walks down to our store from the senior high rise at least once a week.  Yesterday he told us about the coat he was wearing that he purchased right there on 7th street in 1956.  He bought 3 African canes to add to his stylish collection and wrote his check so carefully in large print while carefully checking his math.  He jokes and flirts and I just want to hug him he is so adorable. All the volunteers who give of their time and hearts to help make the vision of fair trade real in Rockford.  I wish they all knew what gifts they are to me.

On Friday one of our suppliers came in to the store and it was my first time to meet her.  She and her ex husband (I could write an entire post about the complicated and fascinating relationship between those two) own a clothing and jewelry company in Nepal.  Noga is originally from Israel and her accent is incredibly beautiful to hear.  When she realized that I was an interested ear, she told me all about her early life and how she came to find herself in the US and then Nepal.  She spends half her year in Nepal with her boyfriend, Shiva.  Shiva is a guide in the Royal Chitwan National Park and they live just outside the park.  The land the park sits on has been in Shiva's family for some astounding number of years.  She had pictures and she was kind enough to give me this one.

 

Elephants!  Elephants all decorated and ready to participate in an elephant race that is held every year.  See the second one is still a baby?  When I voiced my concern that perhaps the elephants didn't want to race, she laughed.  They are wild and wander around the park and her yard and are apparently quite pleased to be the center of such attention.  She explained how the Nepalese love their country, including all the animals that live there and I could tell she really meant it.  So cool.  So, so cool. 

This job has showed me that I have lived a very cloistered life.  While I want see the world as one place we all live and not a series of countries and borders, my experiences with other cultures has been limited.  If this job does nothing else but help me to keep my mind and heart open I'll consider myself privileged.

Yes we did.

The future looks bright.

The biggest day. Ever.

I voted.  I voted.  I voted.  AH and I went about 9:00 this morning and there was no line at all.  The poll workers said that in the first 2 hours the polls were open over 300 people came through to vote.  I didn't know there were 300 people in our voting district.  Amazing.  We all made history today.  I was so excited about casting my vote that I took a picture.   There it is to remember for all time, my little black dot casting my vote for Barack Obama.  I am 50 years old and have never felt the sort of emotional investment I feel over this election.  It's going to be a long day(s).

Please vote.  Picture taking of ballot optional.

Sticks and Stones

I have a confession to make; I frequently say derogatory things about our current president and administration.  The fact that most of those negative comments are true is not important for the purposes of this post.  The important thing is that I do it.....a lot.

Yesterday I saw Jenna Bush interviewed on the Today show by Ann Curry and I have to say that I was impressed.  Believe me, I didn't want to be and yes, I am aware that this is the same Jenna Bush that enjoyed some serious partying in her college days.  Let's see a show of hands of everyone that didn't.  Not that I'm defending her..just saying.  Jenna talked about her new book and the work she has been doing in South America with UNICEF. (Do kids still Trick or Treat for UNICEF?) They showed pictures and video of her interacting with kids and while I am aware that everything can be skewed to the positive, still, I was impressed.  But beyond all that, she spoke about her parents and sister and her love and devotion to them was evident in each word and facial expression.  As every little girl in the world should, she loves her daddy.  That same daddy that I often disparage.  Jenna told Ann that she rarely watches television because it's just plain painful to see so much negativity aimed at her family.  The fact that I was truly feeling sorry for her gave me pause to think.

My father, who lost his battle with cancer some ten years ago, was not always a stellar person, in fact, he could be a real pain in the ass. He cheated on my mother, drank too much, and wasn't always a nice guy. But you know what?  He loved me and I always knew it.  It makes me sad when people talk about him in a negative way, no matter how true it might be.  All of this reminded me that I try not to be the kind of person that talks s@* about people, so why is it ok with me to slam the president every chance I get?  (No matter that he makes it so gall darn easy.) 

This is the stuff that makes me excited about life.  I'm getting a chance to search my heart and re-evaluate my behavior.  I believe that peace begins with each and every person and their personal day-to-day choices and I was choosing to behave in a not very peaceful way.  Mr. Bush does not need my frequent comments on his poor choices to remind the world that mistakes are being made in the name of the USA, and my negativity isn't solving the problems.  I think it's time for me to shift my energy towards the change I hope can be possible and away from the damage already done.  Might sound like pie in the sky, but being hateful certainly wasn't productive.  Maybe hopeful can be.

So, Jenna Bush, I thank you.  Your father... well... I hope you can have the same postive affect on him that you did on me.  There is nowhere to go but up.