Woolly Mutts

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. 

 

 

Find your mark.

Friday at work was every kind of crazy pants I can think of.  We had a semi load of merchandise that had, and I mean HAD to be unboxed, priced and put on the floor all that day because we were having a style show (my responsibility) on Saturday morning.  There was a vendor coming in to talk about winter wear (it is going to be 88 today.  Ugh) and some folks coming to interview me for a documentary about Hannah Warren and Jhoole.  I almost said no to the interview, but the interviewer assured me it would only take a few minutes.  I really have to stop believing everything I am told.

A  little background, a couple of years ago Hannah came into the shop with a box of recycled sari scarves and a story of vision.  I found this blog post in her words, which are much more eloquent than mine.  Basically, she went to  India on a photography project and fell in love with the country and its people.  She stayed awhile, founded a fair trade company to employee weavers, learned to speak Hindi, fell in love with a wonderful man who is a whole other fantastic story.....let's back up....founded a fair trade company.  I don't honestly know exactly how old Hannah is, but I do know that she hasn't seen 30 yet.   She is young and vital and SEES the world.  I embarrassed us both by choking up and handing her all the money I had in my purse.  I was/am so impressed by what Hannah has accomplished that I feel humbled in her presence.  She is honest and beautiful in a way we should all hope to be.  Below is one of the pictures she showed me that day.  You really need to go to that blog link above and read her story.  Seriously.

So, back to Friday.  Needless to say, if Hannah needed some interview footage I wasn't going t0 say no.  I was on tv a few weeks ago so I figured I had it covered.  (cue laugh track)  The film crew arrived with large camera on tripod with professional camera man.  Large furry mic with professional sound man, two huge rectangular lights and a very kind man to direct and interview.   While I tried not to completely freak out they walked around the store and chose a place to do the interview.  They set up equipment and put a mark for me on the floor.  The sound guy taped a mic to the inside front of my shirt and clipped the pack to the back of my jeans.  "Just like Dancing with the Stars", he joked.  "Two microphones?", I asked.   He smiled and nodded. I was beginning to feel just a little nauseous.

I went to the restroom, put some lipstick on and tried to make my hair not look like a curly mop and returned poised (ha) and ready.   Everyone was ready.  I stood on my mark and the sound guy adjusted the fuzzy mic to just over my head.  Then he put on headphones and sat down behind a computer screen.  Camera guy took his position and I smiled at his one exposed eye.  Andrew, the interviewer explained that I was to just speak naturally and look at him, NOT the camera.  I was to say my name and what my position at the store was.  I did.  CUT.  Look at Andrew, not the camera. Great start.

It went on like this for about a half hour.  Andrew would ask me a question and I would attempt to answer intelligently.  In my head I was saying, "We don't just live in a city or even a country, we live on a planet and we are connected to each and every person on this planet."  What came out was more like, "So, I feel that I am more of a planet than a city or eat ice cream in February out of sea shells with extra hot fudge."  Cut. Shadow on my face.  Say that again, but this time face slightly left and speak a little more slowly.  What?  Say what again?  What did I say, exactly?  I now have great respect for anyone who has any sort of job in front of a camera.  That big black circle with the flashing light is completely unnerving and the lights were like August in the Sahara.  

In the end it was acutally kind of a neat experience.  Andrew promised to edit it to make me sound intelligent, which might take a cinematic miracle, but I trust him.  Winter wear was purchased and the room was cleared of merchandise so the fashion show could take place, which, after Friday, was a piece.of.cake. 

Being filmed in any form, or speaking in front of a room of people, are not things I would easily choose to do, but I now know that I can do it without throwing up or passing out.  It's progress.

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

Last night at family dinner we had a short conversation about water.  Kysa had seen Pamela Anderson on Ellen talking about a portable filtration device that can turn extremely polluted water in to healthy drinkable water very quickly.  I had heard of similar projects and had done some research on the water crisis, but I admit to reading and walking away.  I try not to abuse this blog as my personal soapbox, but this issue needs as many voices speaking its name as possible.  Time for me to walk back toward the topic and face it head on.

Here are a few sobering statistics:

*One billion (that's billion with a B) people on this planet do not have access to clean water.

* Every 15 seconds a child under 5 dies from lack of clean water and sanitation.

*Half the world's hospitalizations are due to water borne illnesses.

Go back and read them again.  Slowly count to 15 and consider that each time you do that a mother cries over her dead child....and for something as simple as water.

I can think of very few things I take for granted as much as I do water.  We are careful with water; not to leave the tap running and using a rain barrel in the summer, but still, rarely do I question either the availability or quality of my water.  We even have the luxury of being able to purchase our clean, filtered drinking water which we do because ours tastes horrible.  How blessed are we?  How privileged?

So, let's agree that there is a water crisis.  Don't take my word for it; do your own research.  You won't have to look far for profound and extremely troubling information on the topic.  What can we do?  Well, we can do as I am here, and talk about it.  Awareness is the first step to addressing any problem, but the fact is that it takes money to solve.  Pamela Anderson's cause, Waves for Water, is one of the many groups working to bring clean water to those in need.  My choice is Water.org.  I am incredibly impressed by their mission statement and what they have already achieved in bringing water and sanitation to those in need.  $25 can give one child clean water for life.  Think about what you spend twenty five dollars on.  Altering that purchase just one time can make a difference.  Make.  A.  Difference.  Those words mean something to me.  I hope you will consider them and what they mean to you.

I beleive that we are all connected and that the country we live in does not change or alter that connection.  A thirsty or ill woman in Ethiopia is my sister.  If my action can help her, why not take it?

A quiet dinner alone.

It's snowing again and the temp is hovering around 20, which is a major improvement over the subzero temps we've been experiencing around here.  I'm not complaining, mind, but this year I've really had a heart for our local homeless and it's been a brutal winter for them.

I work in an interesting part of town.  Seventh street used to be the heart of Rockford.  The original Stockholm Inn was here, a bakery, music store, clothing.  Now it's a lot of empty buildings and a few of us trying to revitalize the neighborhood.  A few blocks from us is a homeless day center and we frequently get visits from their clients, which is usually ok.  They are pretty harmless and often just need a quick place to stop in to get warm.  I am reminded by my boss that we do are a store; we do not offer services, but it's hard to send them back out into the cold.

A couple of fridays ago I was closing alone.  I'd like to say that closing alone doesn't happen very often, but it does and I am generally ok with it.  We have a police sub-station not far away and they make their presence known in the area.  It was less than a half hour to close and there were several people in the store.  I saw a man with a bag come in and greeted him, but after that there were other customers that needed my attention and I forgot about him.  When the store emptied I went to close up and found him sitting at one of the tables in the Listening Room.

It was that one back in the corner.  We keep tables set up for groups that hold meetings here or to make unpacking shipments easier.   On his table he had unpacked a bag of chips, a slim jim, a twinkie, a HUGE can of Fosters and 3 hand rolled cigarettes of unknown origin.  He was quietly humming to himself enjoying his gas station dinner.  I explained that I was closing and that he would have to leave.  He nodded, said he was aware of that and kept on eating his dinner. 

To panic, or not to panic?  He didn't seem like he would hurt me, but you never know.  I decided that maybe turning off the lights would send the message a little more clearly, but even in the dark, he just kept on eating.  I got my phone, dialed in 911 and went back for another confrontation explaining that he would have to leave now or I would call the police.  At this point I was aware that he was VERY intoxicated and he started to engage me in conversation about where the nearest liquor store was (like he needed more of that) and where to find the door. 

Slowly he packed up the remains of his dinner, carefully placed the cigarettes in his shirt pocket and moved to the door, all the while crying and begging me not to call the police.  I'll admit that at this point I was beginning to get a little uneasy.  He was fumbling with his coat and hat and he made me so sad to watch him.  I told him I was going to lock the front door and if he wasn't gone by the time I got back I was pressing send.  When I got back he was still standing, looking out the back door, still begging me not to call the police.....and I pressed send.  He looked at me like he couldn't believe I would really do this, and left.  The 911 operator sent a patrol car around. If they found him they never came back to tell me.

Later, when I had stopped shaking and had time to think about it, it occurred to me that something as simple as a quiet place to eat is something we/I take for granted.  All he wanted was a little place to find some peace and eat.  Ok, to drink and probably smoke something wacky, I'm not a complete fool.  Still, how sad.  It was obvious that he had not always been on the street, had not always walked in the dark looking in windows for a place to sit safely and warm.  He reminded me to be always grateful.

Grateful for a roof and heat and warm showers and a soft bed that I share with the other half of my heart and soul.  Grateful that winter can make me feel happy and safe instead of desperate.  In this economy the distance between he and I is frighteningly narrow.  

There by the grace.

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.

Google=COOL

As previously mentioned, I have been reading the Steig Larsson books, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" and currently, "The Girl who Played with Fire".  Being a proud Swede (as well he should be), Mr. Larsson frequently (like every page) throws in locations in the Stockholm area where the action is taking place.  At first I skimmed over these bits because I had no mental reference point to use them.  THEN....I was sitting near the computer reading and Google Earth popped into my head.  As I came upon a location, I typed it into the Google Earth search bar and PRESTO there is was.  It's an over head view, but you can zoom in pretty close and suddenly I was traveling the streets of Stockholm with Bloomqvist and the rest of the characters.  Cool.  Incredibly cool, and free.  If you've never played with GE give it a try. Lots of fun, even when you aren't reading a book taking place in a foreign land.

I am not technologically skilled enough to freeze an overhead shot, so I skammed this pic of Stockholm from a travel site.  At don't think I've ever seen a city with more trees and green space.  The more I research it the more beautiful it becomes.  I think I might (hope you're all sitting down for this one) like to visit there.  Just one more positive thing about reading; when an author can tell a story that makes you want to physically be there.  Good stuff.

Weary on Wednesday

I am wondering if perhaps I'm hosting a little virus today.  I ache in every joint and would be perfectly happy to lay about and read all day.  Then again, I might just be worn out.  With the help of co-worker and beautiful friend, Michelle, Monday was an all day buying trip for Spring/Summer clothing for JustGoods.  Our first stop was outside Janesville at the US office of Venus Imports.  Venus has garments made in Nepal and India.  Visiting them is always a good time.  They are warm and friendly and their wooded location is just a joy to experience.  They have the most amazing vegetable garden (pictured below before Spring planting), an orchard and huge raspberry patch.  Their respect and love of the planet is evident and inspiring.

It was difficult not to purchase a truck load of merchandise, especially when Maya brought out a box of spectacular silk scarves.  I shouldn't speak for Michelle, but I know that I completely lost all restraint when I saw them.  Michelle said she wanted to wrap herself in them and wear them all day, so yesterday, as we unpacked and labeled, I did just that.

Isn't she adorable? :-)  I love her to pieces. She was completely unsuccessful in making a snooty model face.

I want every single one of those scarves.  Glorious.

Monday afternoon we traveled from Janesville, after a delicious Red Robin lunch, to the south-eastern edge of Lake Geneva to Minga Imports.  They have clothing, jewelry, home decor, etc from Ecuador. They are also a fun bunch to spend time with AND they had baby clothes, so I don't need to tell you who has a few new pieces for her wardrobe. By some miracle we managed to get all purchases in the back of my little car.  It was a long day, but we sure had a great time.

Yesterday I spent the day at work unpacking, labeling, revamping the clothing area and putting the new merchandise on the sales floor.  I had lots of help (THANKS!), but it's hard work and I'm sure everyone involved went home exhausted.  This morning I went back and finished what we couldn't get done yesterday while my boss continued to prepare the store for Art Scene.  We have two rooms and at least 5 artists represented in our store.  If you're attending this year, be sure to stop in.  

So, virus or just plain tuckered out, I'm going to go back to reading my book (The Help , SO good).  Carry on without me.

In the end, it all has caffine.

Work today was an interesting mix.  It always is, except on the really slow days.  Today was anything but slow.  First thing this morning two HUGE orders from Ten Thousand Villages and SERRV arrived and needed to be unpacked, checked, entered into the computer, and either stored or put on the floor.  There had to be at least 20 boxes so all hands were called in to help with the effort.  By noon the room was a total wreck.  I left at two and I feel bad for the afternoon crew.

So, about 1:00 the store fills up with people.  Everywhere I looked there were people with cameras and notebooks and in the center of all these people was a small Korean woman in awesome black boots and a pretty cool blue jacket.  My boss grabbed myself and friend Nancy and brought us into the circle to meet her.  She is Annabel Parks, founder of the Coffee Party.  I snagged this picture off the internet.  Anyway, apparently she was in town as part of a tour and had spoken last evening at Katie's Cup.  As we stood talking, cameras were flashing and I felt a little bit of the celebrity paparazzi dilemma. She met us both cordially, shook our hands and asked to have a picture taken with us.  She loved the store, commented on the space and spoke about Rockford in a way that told me she had done her homework before visiting.

I had done a little bit of research about the Coffee Party and she explained that while it's inception was in some part a response to the Tea Party movement, the Coffee Party's vision is to leave party lines at the door and work together as a people to create civility and support a government that actually gets things done.  Sounds good to me. You can see a video here about how the process came about.

In searching for this picture I found all sorts of sites blasting her for any number of supposed "left leaning" crimes.  Whatever.  I don't much care if she worked for Obama's campaign.  I don't care if she is his long lost 2nd cousin twice removed (she's not).  If she can get people talking about how to make things work instead of how much we hate the other side of the aisle, I'll listen to what she, and the Coffee Party, have to say. I'm not saying that I'll become a card carrying member, but knowledge isn't ever wasted.

If you are local and are interested in more info about the Rockford chapter you can email rockfordcpm@aol.com, or call (815)908-1794. Again, not currently affiliated, just offering some info.  If you're on facebook; facebook.com/coffeeparty .  Go forth and ponder.

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.