The Alphabet Backwards: C is for (Toxic) Cynicism

It’s alphabet backwards day and I’m down to the letter “C.” There are lots of cool “C” words: chocolate, of course, is a popular one. Then there’s charisma, character, coincidence, calendar, colander, crocus, clavichord, chronicle, concept, corridor, congestion, congregation, church, chemistry, claustrophobia, Christmas, crutches, Crucifix, Christianity, California, concrete, camp, Clue, crafts, Colorado, companionship, company, creation, Creationism, country, cluster bombs, Clintons, clip art, cavities, Chaucer, choir, chorus, Columbia, Cyprus, cognitive learning, chess, cauliflower, crispy, crap shoot, cylinder, cysts, cancer, Cancer, coat tails, Cold War, cold, conundrum, codicil, creepy, crepe, Chinese, Chinese food, chili, cornbread, cranberry sauce, children, candy, chopped liver, cinema, cartwheels, cabaret, cucumber, cheese (almost forgot cheese, one of the holy foods), chestnuts, chimera, celebration, celebrity, compliments, Congress, conspiracy, Constitution, camera, … well there are lots and lots of really cool “c” words (certainly camera and Christianity were both mighty tempting), but I knew from the start that I want to write about cynicism.

I have a theory and I almost never get to tell anybody about my theories. Now here you are - my three or four avid readers - ready to be dazzled by the brilliance of Raven's Theory of Toxic Cynicism. Hopefully, anyway. I have one or two brilliant theories that rumble around in my head and that I've tried to share from time to time without any success. But enough introduction. Here goes.

I think that one of the reasons our society is in such a terrible mess - one of the reasons that people sit back and do nothing while Rome burns, why they don't vote, and particularly why the media has gone so far astray - is that we have fallen victim to a profound and toxic degree of cynicism. I'm not talking about the clever, wry wit of someone like sweet (sorry big guy) Jay the Cynical Bastard. I'm talking about a pervasive and toxic way of thinking.

I think the problem started with Watergate. America was in a state of flux anyway, but we were still profoundly idealistic... maybe as a nation we were in our pre-adolescence. Nixon and Watergate did two things. It shattered our innocence to a large degree and - this is the important part - it changed how the media pursues news. After Watergate, everybody wanted to be the next Woodward and Bernstein. Reporters stopped looking for truth and started looking for lies. This is a very different pursuit and it produces very different - and very skewed - results. Because when you are looking for lies you are looking at the world through a very distorted lens. Everything becomes suspect... even the truth... and as a result truth gets lost in a sea of speculation and distortion. Over time truth actually becomes irrelevant, though it's name is bandied about by those (like Karl Rove et al) who have learned to use toxic cynicism to their own advantage.

There are a number of reasons that this kind of cynicism is dangerous. First, it is pervasive. I first became conscious of it about 25 years ago, I guess. I'm about as airy fairy, optimisitic, trotting through the daisies singing by nature as you can get. I look for the good. It's who I am. That said, listening one of those rare stories about someone doing something good on the news one night, I heard these little whispery thoughts in my head: "yeah, sure... I wonder what's in it for him." This is not me. This is what toxic cynicism has done to us without our even being aware of it.

I always think a good example of how far from news reporting the media has come - without even knowing it - is an example from the Clinton years. It was a petty news story. Bill Clinton went to a prayer breakfast and said that he repented his sins and prayed for forgiveness or something like that. Now THAT should have been the story. That's a fact. That's not how it was reported. It was reported that this was probably advice from his handlers. The media not only reported Clinton's words, they assessed his motives - cynically, of course. I think much of the media problems are because it's a tool of the right wing. But I also think that the media is composed of human beings, many of whom have now grown up in a world where everything is filtered through the lens of toxic cynicism. Many of them don't know they're doing it, which is why it is so toxic. Many of them are not acquainted with the concept of truth. It became irrelevant - because in toxic cynicism - the pursuit of lies has become confused with the hunt for truth. In today's world, if Angels floated down from the heavens with bags full of gold and food and a cure for all diseases - rather than receiving them joyfully, I can almost guarantee you that most of us would question their motives. Without thinking, without even being consciously aware that we are doing so. This is the price of toxic cynicism. As a nation we are paying a heavy price for it.

Toxic cynicism saps the spirit and damages the capacity for hopeful action. Toxic cynicism allows the Karl Roves and George Bush's of this world make us doubt our intuitions and to question truth on those rare occasions when it is offered to us. We have been taught to no longer believe in truth and as a result we let tyrants and bullies manipulate us. Perversely, toxic cynicism makes us easy prey for liars.

I hadn't thought of this until writing this essay this morning, but I think the power of Obama's voice, the appeal of his message is that it is the first phase of what is hopefully antidote to toxic cynicism. The Bush administration's failures are so overwhelming, their abuses of power and decency at home and abroad so great that they have begun to awaken many - alas not all - people from the haze of perpetualy cynicism. The idealism and particuarly the unshakable decency - of Barack Obama - are food for our starving souls. I hope he wins not just because I have been starving for hope and idealism for years now - but because I don't think the nation can survive the alternative.

I don't know that electing Obama will be a cure for toxic cynicism, but surely it is a start. He has broken through the haze and that gives me hope. But it isn't going to be that easy even if he's elected. Toxic Cynicism is a form of addiction and like any addiction the first step in recovery is accepting that you have a problem. Obama's candidacy has at least shone some light in the darkness and proven that decency can be as powerful as graft and greed and soulless ambition.

I'm almost done. I promise. Just one last thought. I personally believe that truth has an auditory and biological resonance. It can be felt in our bodies. We recognize it when we hear it. It's time now that we reclaim that instinct and become consciously aware of the little whispery voices of toxic cynicism that think of truth as a myth. It's not. Time to move back to a world where we look for truth instead of lies. The hunt for lies creates a world of shadows. When we hunt for truth, we shine light into the darkness. That is how to drive the shadows out.

I'm not going to re-read this. I'm just going to post it. I don't know if I've made a lot of sense. I do know that I'm right about this even if I have not expressed it well. I hope we can stop our search for lies and start becoming seekers of truth once again.

Have a great week. Happy Labor Day.

The Alphabet Backwards: D is for Dental Care and Delivery

The Alphabet Backwards is winding towards it close. This week we confront the letter D. D is for diamonds, dogs, diverticulitis, drama, dragnet, dragons, dessert, deserts, doubt, Darfur, duets, diagnoses, dumb bells, devils, darkness, Democrats, doggerel, deviled eggs, dew, Devonshire, Denmark, Detroit, downers, Down Under, default, dearth, debris, Dodge, Desdamona, duplicitous, derbies, dusk, dawn, darning, daisies, dogwood, dahlias, daffodils - lots of flowers seem to begin with d – distance, discovery, diary, dairy, disguises, doves, doors, dragonflies, dreams, dictators, Diebold, danger, democracy, demagogues, demonstrations, drugs, delivery, dental care….

Well, I can’t say that it isn’t tempting to go off on another rant about the Bush administration and the dangers Democracy is facing. I do hope some people will listen to the video series below about the Diebold machines. Since I posted that yesterday, I’ll skip a political tirade today… well almost. I’ve chosen two words for today’s theme. Dental Care and Delivery.

Since I moved to Upstate New York (first Sullivan County and now Delaware County), I’ve learned a lot more about how poor people are treated in this country. It isn’t pretty. Even though I’m disabled and technically poor, I grew up middle class and that makes the nature of my poverty pretty different, I think. First off, I had more than enough to eat my whole life. I had books and medical care when I needed it (at least before I became my own caretaker). I had literate parents and a decent education. I also had good dental care early on, something poor people in our country are apparently not entitled to unless their teeth need to be pulled. Dental care I learned from many of the people I met with ravaged mouths half full of rotting teeth – and half empty - dental care is, in the eyes of the stingy rich people who make the rules – cosmetic. The government will pay for dentures when your teeth have rotted and been pulled out – assuming you haven’t died from heart or other complications first. I wish I had more artistic skill but hopefully my two smiles give a hint of the difference in "affluent" teeth and those of the poor. Painting black smudges and darkening otherwise healthy teeth doesn't really give the full impact, but hopefully it gives some. Nobody should have to live with discolored and missing teeth in a society as rich and advanced as ours.

I believe that we should have universal health coverage, in which case dental care would presumably be covered as well. In the meantime, these demented and Draconian (D words) policies, besides being evil and obscene add to the health care problems of the poor. Bad teeth impact your overall physical health and your emotional health. They make you less employable. They make you feel bad about yourself. And they make you sick, sometimes profoundly and fatally ill. Dental infections are especially dangerous to diabetics. They can lead to serious heart problems. But as far as Medicaid is concerned, they are a cosmetic issue. How shameful that the richest country in the world treats it’s citizens with such lack of compassion and respect. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. It makes me profoundly grateful that I have very strong teeth. I’ll dental rant at that for the moment and close on a lighter note. (I’ve been quite a curmudgeon the last week or so. I’m not feeling well and it makes me extra cranky.)

So my other choice of D words (since I decided to avoid politics) was delivery. I really miss it. I can’t say I really miss New York City. Because of my disability, I was kind of a prisoner in my apartment the last years there. And I like my little house and looking out the window at trees and birds and chipmunks. But I do miss… really, really, really miss… DELIVERY. Other than UPS, Fed Ex and the Post Office - oh – and Schwanns, thank God - nobody delivers anything here in the middle of nowhere. You want it, you’d better be able to go and get it yourself. In truth, it’s probably a good thing. I’m kind of a delivery junkie. When I lived in NYC, I could pick up the phone and have a couple of days worth (more cost effective that way) of Afghanistani food, or Chinese, or …. I could have a pizza delivered or… Pretty much anything I wanted. It was terrible for my health, I suppose, but oh, how delightful. I actually suggested to one of my neighbors that it would be a great business for someone around here. You could deliver for all the local businesses. He said he had actually thought of that when he first moved up here but the businesses wouldn’t go for it. Too bad. Of course, Hancock, doesn’t offer any good Afghan restaurants either.

One more thought on the subject of delivery. It’s one of the gifts of the internet for people like me. Maybe I can’t get meals, but I can get almost everything else – movies, groceries, books, my camera, cat food and litter – all things that I don’t have to burden my kind and already overly generous friends with doing for me. Last week I found a good buy on garbage bags at Amazon.com. I’m set for the next year and a half. Yippee!

So that’s it from me for the letter D. Only C, B and A and then I’m sprung from this goofy idea for good and my noble kind-hearted visitors won’t be forced to read them any more either. Phew.

Have a great week.

The Alphabet Backwards: E is for Elections and Eloquence

I meant to publish this tomorrow but I screwed up. I thought about deleting it and reposting, but I'm not going to argue with the will of the fates. I hope you'll check out my Sunday post too, though. Pretty singing and the link to a wonderful video at my niece Diana's site. That adds up to a lot of videos, I know, but they are all really good.

This week’s Alphabet backwards - which comes to you a week late - features the letter “E.” There’s a pretty rich supply of interesting words. Evil, Envy, experience, emeralds, embarrassment, eagles, exceptional, elephants, elephant in the living room, effort, escapism, errors, editorials, editors, email, exaggeration, eating, Easter, edges, empathic, education, elections, Evil Empire, Emerald City, Establishment, End Times, elevators, equestrian, eggs, emergency, excess, empires, epic, epicenter, evolution, England, eugenics, early bird, expresso, epaulets, eulogies, evergreen, easy living, economics, economy, environment... And then there are phrases like...

Eagerly expecting the End Times, Empire-builder, Evil George and his buddy Evil Dick, Elaborated lies, Elevated fears, Entered into war, Eulogizing the military (while), Eliminating funding and care, Enriching themselves, Enabling the desecration of the constitution, Elections rigged, manipulated, Economy in ruins, Environment – who cares. Eliminate checks and balances, Eliminate your enemies... Ok, so this last list is a rant.

I was going to write about how important it is to vote and how precious and endangered our electoral process is but I think maybe the following videos will have more eloquence than I do on this subject. Those who think our elections are safe, listen to these videos. Those who think that fear about stolen elections is paranoia, listen to these videos. Those who think voting doesn't matter... listen to these videos.

On the subject of eloquence - another "E" word - I would just direct you to this wonderful piece that my friend Dianne at Forks Off the Moment wrote last week.

The Alphabet Backwards: F is for Forgiveness with a little Responsiblity Thrown In

(Please scroll down for One Single Impression)

Well, I have to start with the caveat that this is not fresh and new writing. It's something I wrote in May of 2002 and published in the Agoraphobia column I wrote for Suite 101.com at that time. I thought it was one of the best things I wrote there and even though I have backslid as far as leaving the house, and some of this material is dated (in October it will be 20 year since my sister's murder), I still think that I actually have something to say here. (Dear Dianne and others who tease me... Please take note that I am actually not only not apologizing, but almost bragging.... uh, oh... now I'm going to get in trouble with the gods...) Anyway, rather than try and update it, I am posting as it was written 6 years ago.

"I am responsible. Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself." ~ Walter Anderson ~ (American Trainer, Author)

Well, I was completely stumped for something to write this week. Just didn't have any ideas that really seemed to resonate with me until I received an email with the above quote in it. I had a fairly intense response to the quote both because I think it's a wise and true statement and also because it's author carries the same name as the boy - well, I guess he is a grown man now - who murdered my sister thirteen years ago. How very peculiar to see such words attached to his name.

Although the quote doesn't actually use the word forgiveness, that is certainly one of the talents we need to master in order to move past certain events in our lives. That said, forgiveness is one of those peculiar words which has been so laden with gobbledy-gook over the years that instead of being a source of healing, for many people it has become a source of perpetual pain. As with almost everything in this life, forgiveness is not - as most of us have been taught - about the other person. It is not about overlooking cruelty or injustice or even forgetting it. It isn't about letting the other person off the hook. It's about letting OURSELVES off the hook. Ours is the only life we have any control over anyway. Forgiveness is not about perfection on anyone's part. It is not even really about goodness as is so often implied in both cultural and theological teaching. In truth, usually no matter where our anger is aimed, it is ourselves on some level whom we do not forgive.

In an odd way, I think forgiveness - or maybe the inability to forgive - is about being stuck in time, about remaining hooked to a past which we refuse or fear - or simply don't know how - to outlive. How do we put something like incest or murder or any profound betrayal behind us? These things impact us to the core of our being. They change who we are. Often they shatter who we are, or - more accurately - who we think we are.

As I have written before, part of what held me in my apartment for the ten years when I had such difficulty leaving it, had to do with being unable to process (move beyond/forgive/let go of) a series of profound traumas (sex abuse memories, my sister's murder, estrangement from my brother, physical injury, the death of both of my parents, and so on). In the face of all this, I lost my sense of who I was and how to navigate through the old familiar channels by which I avoided dealing with many painful truths which I had spent my life pretending weren't there. I had been trained in that lethal form of pseudo-forgiveness which involves smiling sweetly, swallowing your own pain and keeping peace at all costs. I had been trained to live by a twisted version of "Christian love" and forgiveness that relieved everyone but me of responsibility for their actions. If being raped made me sad, what was wrong with me that I could not put it behind me? If my brother was cruel, where was my goodness if I expressed my pain?

This kind of false forgiveness, whereby we pretend to not have our feelings, traps us perpetually in those feelings and leaves us hopelessly unforgiven for our own exquisite humanity. I spent almost 40 years being generously compassionate to everyone but myself. The implication of what so many of us are taught in this life is that compassion and anger or grief and pain are somehow opposites, that it's an either or choice, but that's just not the truth. When we are incapable of having compassion for our own pain, when we box it up and refuse to own it, to take responsibility for it, then generous as our hearts are, forgiving as we pretend to be to those who hurt us, we are living an unconscious lie that ties us forever to our past pain.

Which brings me to the word responsibility. In my upbringing, responsibility was some sort of burden that I was supposed to carry around. To be responsible was to be to blame. It encompassed the pain of all humanity. It implied guilt. If there was pain in the world (including my own), it was my fault. I am not alone in this. It is, to greater and lesser degree, how many, if not most of us, are trained to function. Even in a positive context - "she was responsible for saving the world..." - there is something onerous and burdensome about that word. I know that it can be used in a positive way, but I would be willing to bet money that more than 90 percent of the population of the world, hearing the question, "who's responsible for this," hears it in expectation of some form of criticism.

So what, in a healthier world, what should responsibility mean? Most New Age books that I read redefine it as "the ability to respond," which I find a tad cutesy and not very helpful. I think that it's more meaningful to say that responsibility is about taking ownership of our responses, our feelings - all of them, regardless of what those feelings are. My wonderfully wise former therapist used to tell me that I stayed inside because I could not avoid having feelings when I went out into the world. (That's also, by the way, the reason that many of us over eat, particularly sugar-based foods - because it numbs our feelings.) No matter what anyone tells you, there are no wrong feelings. I've said it before but it needs to be repeated over and over because so much of the pain in this world stems from the false belief that there is something wrong with feelings of anger or pain or hurt or even hate. What's wrong is getting stuck in those feelings and what gets us stuck in them is the belief that we shouldn't have them, because it makes us try to pretend them away rather than letting them move through us and be gone.

This negation of our feelings, this false notion of responsibility, is how - hopefully I'm getting to the point - we get stuck in time and why forgiveness, especially forgiveness for ourselves is such a difficult task for most of us to accomplish. Many of us race through life trying to outrun these feelings. We keep our minds constantly occupied. We take on super human loads. We try to stop pain wherever we see it, partly perhaps from nobility, but also to stop our own pain from being awakened by it's siblings, from surfacing and overwhelming us. I think agoraphobia may often take over when the load of pain and guilt gets so heavy that we can no longer out run it. We are immobilized not by our pain or our sorrow, but by our fear of those feelings.

If we taught our children to ignore the pain of putting their hands into the flame of a stove burner, we would be very rightly locked up for child abuse. Teaching children to swallow their anger and sorrow is the emotional equivalent of holding their hands in the flames and praising them for not screaming in agony. It is a form of learned insanity which is passed from generation to generation. The good thing, the place where hope lies, is that it can be unlearned. We can teach our children (inner and outer) that it is not a crime to be human, that Love (God's and our own) is unconditional, relentless, all-encompassing and eternal. In the end, we can only truly treasure life, when we allow ourselves and those around us to live it in all it's random, awesome, mysterious, confusing, and exquisite beauty and ugliness.

I know I'm on my soap box today and it always embarrasses me when I find myself standing up there. I usually wind up there when I feel like I am touching on a vein of pain so deeply entrenched in both my own and our collective psyches that to tackle it feels like shouting into the wind, when something in me wants to run from person to person and lift away hurts which are so big that we almost don't know we are feeling them. We deserve better treatment than we give ourselves. We deserve to be forgiven for being fallible. We deserve love. And even though it embarrasses me to say it, even though I may not know you, I need to say that "I love you." And now I need to run blushing into a corner and hope you will forgive me for saying so.

The Alphabet Backwards: H is for Hemp and Humor

Please scroll down for Project Black and OSI

Disclaimer: This is a hodgepodge (h word). I know I should go over it, edit it, cull things out of it, add things. But I'm not going to. High noon has come and gone along with my enthusiasm. Hopefully there are some coherent thoughts here and there in these ramblings. And there's definitely link to a wonderfully funny video at the end.... the reward for reading through (though now I've told you about it, you can just skip down to the bottom and avoid the rest...).

Monday, the day I dread... the alphabet backwards day is here again. "H" is a nice friendly letter, though with lots of good words attached to it like happiness, health, honesty, hearth, home, hornets, hummingbirds, heresy, hedonistic, homage hemisphere, heiress, hegemony, heath, heather, Hellenistic, hubris, huggable, huge, hunker down, hop scotch, Hebrew, hasty pudding, hen pecked, hot dogs, holy, Hudson River, help, hodge podge, hog wild, humdinger.... Well, you get the idea. It's a letter with great potential for ideas. And of course this means that I'm having a terrible time choosing but in the end, I think I'll go with two: Humor and hemp. Don't ask me why. I have no idea how my mind works.

I think I'll start with hemp. I don't really have an awful lot to say except that it's such an amazing product that I don't understand the resistance to growing it. Hemp is an amazing plant with diverse uses which has gotten a bad name from it's sibling, aka marijuana. Hemp is no more responsible for the deeds of it's kin-folk than I am. Just because my brother and I are related doesn't mean we are the same person. There's a reason we don't speak to each other. So it is with poor hemp whose gifts lie dormant while it's glitzy hedonistic kin gets all the attention. But hemp has so much to offer. It is rich in nutrition. I make a shake these days from hemp protein as opposed to soy. It's yummy and it's ultra nutritious. Here's what my niece has to say about it on her Foodscout.com analysis. In addition to it's nutritional values, hemp based fabrics are virtually indestructible. I have a hemp wallet (well it doesn't get much use since I have no money and never leave the house, but still... ) which except for a bit of genteel fading is as sturdy as the day I got it. And I absolutely love Dr. Bonner's liquid soaps which I have probably been using for at least 30 years, before there was any controversy about hemp. In any case, it seems to me that hemp is indeed a wonderful alternative to tobacco. Why not grow something that promotes health, that provides nutrition, rather than sticking with a product which we know kills people. I just don't get it. Not a very masterful treatise on hemp, but the best I have to offer on a Monday morning. At least check it out a bit. For those with truly inquiring minds, here's a site with much more information than I can offer.

One more thought before I move on from hemp. I am a product of the 60s. I was too afraid of life to be a true hippie, but I was deeply enamored of the joy and freedom of Haight-Ashbury and psychedelics and the idea of marijuana. Being the honorable creature that I am, my parents, who were paying for my school had said something to the effect of "don't use our money on that stuff" and so I didn't try it until I was working. Since I was in the position of observer, I did notice, even despite my fascination with the idea, that most of the people I knew who smoked a lot did not get more interesting. They became quite boring. When I did try it some years later, it didn't do much for me. I'm probably one of the few people who believed Clinton didn't inhale. I tried to inhale, but not being a smoker, had a hard time doing so. He may very well not have inhaled and in the end who cares. In recent years, I have seen some people's lives deeply damaged by the impact of heavy pot smoking. I think we should spend less energy trying to criminalize it, though, and more energy being realistic about the harm it does. If we put energy into treating addictions rather than condemning their victims, we would have more success. And meanwhile while we give lip service to how bad cigarettes are, I don't see much happening - really - to slow those industries down. But back to the original topic.... since hemp is a viable alternative to tobacco, the myth that farmers would starve is just that. A myth. So those are my random, somewhat disjointed thoughts on hemp. On to humor...



I think humor is essential to survival. I think we need it. I know that I do. Humor, in my opinion, connects us to one another and to the divine. There are few things more healing than laughter. Years back a man named Norman Cousins wrote a number of books on this subject. He wrote at least two books on the subject of humor and healing. The first was called Anatomy of an Illness and related his own story battling a presumably fatal and rare form of arthritis. I no longer remember the details of how he came to do so, but as I recall the story, he began watching Marx Brothers movies and discovered that laughter actually eased his physical pain. He eventually recovered and dedicated much of his life to the relationship between emotions and healing. In his second book on the subject - called The Healing Heart - the anecdote I most remember has less to do with humor than belief but it's profound (and also rather amusing) so I'll mention it here anyway, since healing is also an "h" word. In this book he tells the story of a man in recovery from heart surgery. Still groggy and half conscious in the recovery room he hears the doctors talking. They are using doctor speak so he doesn't really understand what that they are in fact saying that he is not likely to make it. What he hears is that the surgery was a success... and hearing this, he recovers. Interviewed later he said that the turning point was hearing those two doctors discussing his case. What he believed they said had more impact than what they were actually saying.

But I've kind of digressed from humor. I can't imagine life without humor in all its lovely and diverse forms, from irony to silliness to political satire... It makes life interesting and I believe that it really is healing. One of my favorite websites is something called Despair, Inc., a witty and sardonic and hysterically funny satire on positive thinking. One of their t-shirts reads, "More people have read this shirt, than have read your blog." Among my favorite saying in their "demotivator" posters are the following:

Consistency: It's only a virtue if you're not a screw-up.

Failure: When your best just isn't good enough.

Idiocy: Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.


Procrastination: Hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now.


But enough... I'm kind of rambling around here, writing this in between phone calls and other distractions. Just one last thought on humor or the lack of it. I personally think "the Church" has misunderstood much of the teachings of Jesus and much of what we are taught is distortions of the messages in the Sermon on the Mount and other teachings. Beyond that, one of the things that bothers me most about the standard portrayal of Jesus is that he seems t have no sense of humor, no vibrancy. We (the church/society/whoever) seem to alternate between depicting him as either a kind of vapid girly-man who wanders wanly through the land saying pithy wise things, or as a kind of tragic, depressed being. Assuming that he is/was real, I doubt he was either of those things. I suspect he was full of life and humor and joy. I don't think you can really be connected to God/Spirit unless you connect to joy and laughter and love. Laughter, like music, opens the heart, resonates and vibrates the body and spirit together. You can't laugh too much.

When I was a little girl, probably until I was about 8 or 9, I had a laugh that rolled out of me from some unknown place. It made everyone around me laugh too. I mean we laughed until it hurt. I loved it. Alas, my mother didn't love it and eventually managed to kill it off. I'm hoping that it's still in me somewhere waiting for me to find the key to whatever chest it has been locked into. I wish for all of you much laughter, much humor and lots of joy. If you have made it this far through this meandering essay, I recommend that you check out the little video that I posted on Saturday called An Engineer's Guide to Cats.... It will make you laugh.

That's it for the letter H, I guess. Keep laughing.

The Alphabet Backwards: "I" is for Impeachment and Idealism

Author's Note: This is going to be a long rant today. Sorry. I haven't polished it up either. Sorry about that too. I just have to get this out of my system as best I can. If I try to get it perfect, it will never get posted. So, here goes...

Alphabet backwards day rears it’s ugly head once more and today we greet the letter “I,” a fine letter indeed that offers many wonderful words such as: imagination, invention insecurity, idealism, ideas, inspiration, ignorance, idleness, impressionism, impressive, indigo, islands, irony, idiocy, illness, ill will, igloos, ice caps, Iceland, Inuit peoples, illusion, Iraq, Iran, Ireland, Israel, Italy, International Court, impossibility, indignation, illiteracy, idolatry, improvement, …. I mean the list is impossibly rich. I could go on at tedious length about any number of these topics so WHY, you may be asking yourself another rant about – sorry everyone – impeachment. Why? Because it’s INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT!

I know that some of you are sick of hearing me on this subject, but I think it’s too important to let go of, so, those more practical, more right wing, more whatever than me can just skip over my latest treatise on why impeachment matters or you can argue with me about it. I'm ok with that. It's part of what makes life interesting. So here is a small fraction of the reasons why I think impeachment matters so much.

Impeachment matters because these men – Bush and Cheney and their colleagues have committed multiple serious violations of our law. They didn’t have sex with an intern (at least not that we know about). What they have done is to repeatedly violate the laws and the SPIRIT of the laws of our nation. They have quite possibly committed acts which rise to the level of treason against the nation. If we don't try them, we will never know for sure.

Whether through intention or ignorance, they led us into an unnecessary war which has resulted in the deaths of thousands of American service persons and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis. In their zeal to engage us in this war, they ignored the UN and the rest of the world, consciously outed a CIA agent and then lied about it. Not one but two of their former press secretaries have written books which attest to this.

They have conducted this war with a lack of planning and skill that is shocking in the breadth of its failures, particularly since they rushed us into it with such enthusiasm. Because of their ineptitude and refusal to listen to any voices but their own, our military is being stretched to or beyond the capacity of the people serving to ultimately endure the physical, emotional and psychological stress. We are running out of people to wear out…and throw away once they return home. Patriotic talk is cheap. Actually caring for the members of our military isn’t and it seems as a nation we favor empty tears over true compassion and care.

The Iraq “war” – it was actually an invasion and occupation - has raised the national deficit to levels that we and our children and our children’s children’s children will be coping with for decades and decades to come.

There is considerable evidence of both incompetence and out and out graft in that part of the war in Iraq which has been sold to mercenaries. And there is again a shocking disregard for justice, law and ethics in the administration’s willingness to shield these mercenaries from prosecution for crimes committed… in our name and on our tab. These mercenary organizations have grown obscenely rich while American soldiers come home wounded to inadequate or unavailable medical and psychological treatment. And this after serving multiple tours of duty. This kind of betrayal of our young men and women seems to me to be a form of treason as well. The Bush administration accuses others of being unpatriotic, of not caring about our soldiers, while they themselves treat them like so much garbage.

The Bush administration has violated the Geneva Conventions and the spirit and intention of American law by setting up Guantanamo facilities and by allowing/condoning torture. Whether or not we can come to agreement on whether this violates the letter of the law, it violates the spirit of American law and American ethics. And it clearly violates the Geneva Conventions. And again, they lied about this.

And Mr. Bush and his colleague once again violated both the letter and spirit of the law by spying on American citizens. And there's the whole issue of abuses in and by the Justice Department. Remember Alberto Gonzales, the man with no memory?

Then there’s the integrity of the democratic process itself. There is good reason and substantial evidence to question the legitimacy of both elections. One reason, I think that Dennis Kucinich is particularly keen on impeachment – other than his fundamental integrity as a human being – is that there is significant evidence that the elections in Ohio, the state he serves, were tampered with.

These are not small things. They are not inconsequential things that should be gotten over because it’s uncomfortable to deal with them. I wonder what these men would have to do for our nation to rise from it’s torpor of indifference and do something. Would we rationalize even torture conducted in public view on the White House Lawn? What does this say about us?

Many of the same people who want to sit back and do nothing about the Bush administration will condemn roundly the acts of foreign leaders who have committed similar crimes. I find that puzzling… that these things apparently – in the minds of some – are only immoral when someone else does them, but when we betray law and decency, we must have had a good reason. Talk about rationalization.

Almost as disturbing as this very partial and fragmentary list of the Bush administration's crimes and failings is the troubling truth that politics and party seem to have taken precedence for most politicians over truth and justice. There is more than ample evidence of questionable behavior. More than one former member of the Bush administration has come out and said as much… or certainly enough to make it mandatory that a nation of law undertake serious investigation. But one of the reasons sited for not pursuing impeachment is that because the Democrats have no actual majority in the Senate, that impeachment is impossible because the vote would split across party lines and no matter how much evidence there is, Bush and Cheney could not be convicted. How sad to think that party matters more than truth and the honor, future and security of the nation. How disgraceful. How obscene.

I’m told by a number of people that Bush and Cheney can still be impeached after they leave office. Better late than never, I guess, but rather like performing surgery after the patient is dead because that way the surgeon no longer is at risk of being sued for malpractice.

Which brings me to the second “I” word I chose for today: Idealism. What has happened to idealism? Our idealism has always seemed to me to be the core of what being America/American means. Our ideals, our idealism was what made us special. We may have fallen short on many occasions, but we never let go of trying before. That’s another reason to impeach the Bush administration. They have rung the final death knell on our idealism. We will never be the same again.

I know not everyone agrees with me about this. This isn’t a researched essay with political and legal proofs. It's not polished or organized in the most logical fashion. It's a rant and it’s my heart and my frustration and my anger and my love of my country. I feel like a mother held back from going into the burning house where my child is sleeping, while the firemen outside argue about who started the fire and whether or not it’s safe to enter and do their job. They argue and negotiate and the child dies. The death of idealism is the death of hope. This is why so many are drawn to Mr. Obama. He is a reminder of the possibility of idealism. I hope that he can awaken the sleeping giant of our greater self. I hope it isn’t too late for my country to be saved. But idealism can't just be pie in the sky talk about tomorrow. If we are to recover our nation, we have to walk the talk of freedom and decency and not just say the words.

Just saying "I love my country," isn't patriotism. Unless we vote and unless we act to ensure that our government/nation lives the ideals of what our country stands for, that's just empty talk. It's no more patriotic to watch your country die a slow death from indifference than it is compassionate to see a bleeding stranger on the street and say "oh how sad, " as you walk by and let him die. From my perspective, that's what we're doing when we ignore the call to impeachment because it's inconvenient, not a guaranteed win or any of the other excuses given for not acting to uphold the law and spirit of our country. It makes me sad. It makes my cranky. It makes me rant out loud from time to time. Today is one of those days.


And that’s the alphabet backwards for today. Next week the letter H and hopefully something less intense and happier….

The Alphabet Backwards: "J" is for ?????

Well, it's the dreaded Alphabet Backwards day and today's letter is J. What a wonderful range of possiblities J offers - Joy, judgement, jelly fish, jamboree, jambalaya, juvenile, Jesus, June, July, Jasmine...

Jumpin Jehosephats! What should I write about? I was going to write about impeachment again (aka justice), but since next week is the letter "I," readers have lucked out on having to read through another tirade.

I'd do a tribute to George Carlin and his Jokes, but my friend Dianne has already done a wonderful job of that.

I'd write about jogging but since I can barely walk across a room, that would just be insincere an silly. Then there's jealousy, but that's not something I really experience. Envy sometimes - you know - the I'm glad you have that but I'd like it too kind of thing. I thought about writing about jaguars (the big cats, not the car), a magnificent and endangered species that I'm particularly fond of... I've had dreams in which I turn into a jaguar, which I thought was pretty cool. But I don't really have a lot to say on the subject that you can't read at the Defenders of Wildlife site.

I'm adding this late. I was reminded by Jay Simser at Bailey's Buddy that he's a Jay, so I thought I'd add a link... and as long as I'm acknowledging Jays, there's also the other Jay, at Cynical Bastard. They are both wonderful and are great wordzzlers to boot.

So I'm going to do a total cheat today and say that "J" is for JUST DON'T WANT TO DO THIS. How's that for cheating?

Maybe it's this beautiful June weather. It's a gorgeous day here today. Makes me feel joyful at the beauty. I'd call it Spring fever but it's officially summer now. Whatever the reason, I'm copping out on writing something meaningful and still crossing the letter J off my list. Just like that.

My apologies. I wanted to post couple of George Carlin clips, but they aren't very polite, so I decided instead to post some pictures of Jamaica. I visited Jamaica many, many years ago and loved the beauty of the country and the kindness of the people. So here's a little beauty for your day. The second video is Jamaican Bob Marley singing about War.

And so I creep quietly away from "J" late in the afternoon on a Monday in June. Wishing you Jokes, Justice, Joy and Jolly times.

The Alphabet Backwards: K is for Kindness

Oddly, I was wondering all week - what on earth can I do for the letter "K"? All I could think of was kangaroo and my first name. (It's been a rough week.) Then on Saturday when, after lightning came through and killed half of one of my big pine trees, my neighbor was by within a half hour to ask about it, I realized that kindness was a shoe-in for this week.

I'm very blessed by my neighbors here, particularly Shawn S and his mother who live in the big house across the street - the one with the yard that looks like a park. All winter long, Shawn clears everyone's snow. He doesn't ask anything in return. Says he has the blower and might as well use it. I do pay him to mow my lawn twice a month, but when he knocked on the door and asked about my tree, he didn't ask for money when he said he'd take care of it. I gave him what I could afford - not nearly enough - anyway, but this was - and still is - a HUGE job. He spent all yesterday morning and early afternoon, sawing the old tree into sections and putting the branches into piles. This afternoon, I guess, the town - which is a pretty nice little town - will bring a big truck - and (after he gets home from a full day of work) he'll move everything out to the road and load it up.


My life has been rich in kindness. So many kind friends and strangers. Finding my house was the result of the kindness of multiple people: My friend Rosalie who drove me around looking when I was close to giving up; Sue Martin who worked at New York State's HOYO office and worked very hard to help me as well as helping me keep my spirits up when things didn't look so good; and my niece Diana who helped with encouragement and a bunch of money.... so many people. I started to try and list them and the task is overwhelming.

Alas, even as I'm awash in feelings of gratitude, today I also seem to be drowning in a sea of self pity. My brain is refusing to put coherent thoughts together. It just wants to wallow in worry and self pity even though there is nothing to worry about or feel sorry for myself about. How lucky can I be. That tree could have fallen and hit my house... or the neighbor's house. It could have done a lot of damage and it did almost none. I could be without kind neighbors.

There is another piece of the past two days that I wasn't going to talk about. It's a kitty thing. I discovered yesterday that one of my girls - probably Tara Grace - has been peeing on the guest bed. I'm not sure when or why this has happened. Like the tree, it's a nuisance, not a happy thing, but not the end of the world. Yet I'm reacting to it as though it is - and by completely disconnecting from my brain and my feelings.

These kinds of events bring my inner demons dancing merrily into the light. The crazy voice in my head thinks I should be out there chopping up that tree. I should be out there carrying big logs to the front of the house in preparation for removal. I should hoist the mattress on my shoulder and drag it off to the junk yard or run to the store and find something to fix it with. Not only that, I should never have let it happen... and if I weren't a mental case, it never would have. (My inner demons think kindness is for sissies and suckers.) It is when these things come up that my agoraphobia becomes torture on a grand scale. And the monster who has locked me in my house gets to beat me up for listening to it.

So this is a pretty pathetic treatise on kindness. More a self-pity rant. I apologize for that. I am in fact very blessed with kindness from so many sources. But I'm going to leave off here and post this because there's another big storm about to come through. I may add some more pictures of Shawn's hard work once the weather passes.

And I want to thank all of you for your kindnesses. For reading my words, for kind comments, for the kindness that you all do in your individual lives and write about on your blogs. You all enrich my life and I'm very grateful for that... even when I'm feeling sorry for myself.

The Alphabet Backwards: Looking for the Lovely

(Please check below for Project Blue)

Ok... I'm feeling lazy. I thought about writing on loneliness this morning or longing, but my heart isn't in it. It's a languid hot day here on the East Coast. Only in the 70s at the moment, but destined, according to the weather bureau to go up to 95 or so. Doesn't feel as humid as it did yesterday, which is nice. But I digress... I wanted to use the word languid. I love words. I suppose I could write about love, but that would require a lot of effort and thinking and talking about layers of meaning and I just don't feel like doing it. I would recommend a wonderful book by Don Miguel Ruiz, though, called The Mastery of Love. I read it during a very difficult time in my life and it helped me to survive.

Anyway, I decided to do something a little different this morning. Not sure if it's a good idea or not. A couple of years ago there was a children's book contest. You had to write a children's book of 100 words - no more than that. I decided to enter and I really loved what I wrote. It was a rare occasion when I actually thought I might win. (I didn't. Sigh. Didn't even come in 3rd or any number.) Anyway, my book was based on the concept I so love from Hawaiian Mysticism: Energy flows where attention goes.... and it's called Looking for the Lovely. I tried adding a few little pictures so it would seem illustrated. Wish I could draw.

Amanda awoke feeling sad and scared. It was the first day of school. Her family had just moved to Beckersville and she hadn't made any friends yet. "What if nobody likes me?" she asked her mother. "What if I don't belong?"

Her mother smiled, hugged her, and said, "Look for the Lovely."

"The Lovely... what's that? How can that help?"

"The Lovely is anything beautiful, anything that appeals to your heart and spirit. "When I was about your age, I too was feeling alone and unsure of myself. Grandmother Lucy taught me about looking for The Lovely.

"The Lovely can be anything - a flower, a kitten, a blue sky, a pretty tree, a friend's smile, or even a kind word or a funny joke. The Lovely is anything that lightens your heart or gives you joy - and it is everywhere if you make the effort to look for it.



"I don't see how that will help," Amanda mumbled, "I want to BE the lovely that everyone else looks for."

Her mother smiled at her. "You already are The Lovely to me; you're very pretty - inside and out. The magic of looking for The Lovely is that it not only draws the good and beautiful to us, it somehow reflects our own beauty outward at the same time. Let's practice right now while you eat your breakfast.
I'll go first: I see you, of course, fluffy clouds in a blue sky and my favorite sugar bowl. Now it's your turn.

Amanda smiled for the first time that morning: "Your face, Mom... and Mittens kitten... And Dad's galoshes," she giggled. "This is fun! "



On the ride to school, Amanda was amazed at all The Lovely she saw: "Look at that tree, Mom!" "And that
funny looking dog!"

In class, she continued to look for The Lovely. She noticed the beautiful pink of her teacher's dress... And a bright orange butterfly floating outside the classroom window. She was so absorbed in watching for The Lovely that she completely forgot to be worried about not knowing her classmates.

When a girl tapped her on the shoulder and said "Hi, my name is Jenny," Amanda smiled, broadly.

"I'm Amanda... You have the prettiest hair," she said, still absorbed in looking for The Lovely.

"Thank you," Jenny blushed happily, "Miss Smith said you're new here. That was me last year, so I thought you might need a friend."

"Do I ever!" Amanda blurted out. "I was so scared about coming to school this morning! You can't imagine!"

"Really? You seemed so relaxed and happy that I felt less shy about saying hello."

Amanda laughed, "My mother taught me a game this morning called Looking for the Lovely."

"I got so absorbed looking for lovely things that I forgot how scared I was!"

"How cool. Can I play too?" Jennifer asked.

"Sure. Want me to go first?"

That was the first day of a life-long friendship. For the rest of their live they always looked for beauty and magic... And it was LOVELY.

The End

This all reminds me of another very simple - and similar - concept - that has changed my life. About four years ago, I read this article by a man named Alan Cohen. He talks about using the mantra "Thank You for Everything. I have no complaints whatsoever." No matter what happens, or how bad it seems, try approaching it with this thought (even if you don't feel like you mean it) . For myself, I have round that doing so shifts my relationship to my situation. I also think that it opens the door to the Universe to bring in something new and better. There is great power in gratitude and putting your focus on what is beautiful and positive.

So that's my post for today's Alphabet Backwards. Only eleven letters left! Yippee! May your day be filled with love and loveliness.

The Alphabet Backwards: M is for Miracles

Well, it's Monday, which means I have to face the dreaded Alphabet Backwards. The letter "m" offers so many choices that it's almost too much... a myriad of modest and magnificent many-faceted meanings from the mystical to the mundane, the menacing to the melancholy march madly through my mind.... What to choose? Mysticism, mystery? Music? Martyrdom, military, mania, manic-depressive, magnolias, marigolds, marijuana, monkeys, mandolins.... the list goes on and on... a mad mosaic of choices. Ok... I'll stop and pick something, I promise. Just had to get that out of my system. The muse has spun the wheel (had to get one more in) and it has landed on the word MIRACLES.

Years ago, when I still lived in Manhattan (M word for NYC) and still left my house, I was madly in love with a brilliant (and very handsome) pastor, so I went to church a lot. Tiny Christ Lutheran Church on 19th Street and First Avenue, under Rick's ministry, was a magical place. I wish I had my scanner so I could share some photos, but you will have to imagine things, I guess. We shared our little stone church with a renegade Catholic congregation that was "church-less." I forget now the details of their estrangement from the diocese, but they shared not only our little building, but our community life as well as some worship services - something virtually unheard of in the 1970s. Rick (besides being witty, charming and handsome) was my kind of pastor. He was less bound to liturgy than to love of both the human and the divine. He didn't care what I believed or didn't believe. He felt that the church was about community and living the Spirit of faith. Because of this he created a wonderful family of people where I felt safe and welcome. He changed my life in many ways. He taught me to respect my own voice, to offer my opinions because they were worth something. He taught me to protect myself from my brother's dark malevolence. He persuaded me to go into therapy and get help that I desperately needed. He taught me to share my singing voice as well as my ideas. He taught me a lot about love. He was a gift and a miracle in my life and changed it forever and for the better. He died 20 years ago of a brain tumor and the world is a poorer place without him.

But that isn't actually what I meant to talk about. Seems I can't help but meander towards my goal (another m word). A group of us had a discussion at one point - I forget what led up to it - about miracles. Much to my astonishment, I was the only person in a group of about 10 people, who believed in miracles. The only one. It stuns me still. I think life is a series of almost minute to minute miracles. Look out the window. Look at a tree. Look at an automobile. Look at a flower, look at the sky, look at a cat or a bird or a bumble bee. Look at your own body, no matter what kind of shape it's in. Look at the blue sky or clouds or ... Is there anything that ISN'T a miracle? But even if you want to toss that kind of miracle aside, there is still the human capacity to learn and think, to invent healing techniques. Modern medicine is a kind of miracle as is herbal medicine.

Then there are things like reiki, the healing art that I practice. I certainly consider that to be miraculous. The people in this conversation didn’t think there were miracles in what they referred to as “the Biblical sense.”

Reiki belies that for me. Crazy as it sounds. I can sit with a teddy bear in Hancock, New York and impact a cat or human being in Maine or anywhere in the world. It astonishes me, but it happens. Doubters may be able to dismiss the impact on people as self-delusion, but how do you explain the response of animals, who are too smart to refuse a gift of healing or to rationalize it away. Our minds and spirits are capable of so much that if we only opened ourselves up to the possibilities we could change the world overnight. (I have to admit that I talk a good show, but I’m not so good at follow-through on this one. Still, I believe that we are capable of making our own miracles if we choose/learn how to own and harness our potential.) I was fascinated years ago to learn that researchers working with people who are “multiple personalities (this is an interesting article on the subject) ” who – in one body – had diabetes as one personality and didn’t as the another. Seems pretty miraculous to me. I couldn't find an article to back that but I remember attending a lecture (similar to this one) with a spiritual teacher and doctor named Brugh Joy, who talked about his experiences with multiple personalities and other kinds of amazing medical experiences.

Alas, I had a long phone call between that last sentence and this one and have lost my momentum, so I'll end with the thought that we have miracles around and in us - both individually and as a society. The power of the mind and the power of love, particularly when we harness them together - well, there are no limits.

There are miracles of beauty and nature that are all around us and there are things like reiki, like the power of prayer, like using our thoughts to create positive things that are at our disposal all the time. I thought I'd close today with a reminder that Mimi Writes is hosting a "peace blast" on Wednesday, June 4th. I think this is an awesome idea - to harnass our love of peace and the power of positive thinking. Just click on the link to her site, pick up a blank globe graphic, sign it and return it to her. She has detailed instructions. I'll post mine again on Wednesday.

Let's enjoy the miracles around us and let's make some miracles of our own.

And that's it for the letter "m." Have a marvelous day full of merriment, magic, music, and miracles.

The Alphabet Backwards: N is for Nationalism

Well, on Memorial Day, it seemed to me like a good time to reflect on nationalism. I love the United States, which happens to be my country. I think we're a wonderful hodge-podge of creativity, generosity, greed, genius, stupidity.... as people we are both the best and worst of what it means to be human. As a nation, we are richly blessed with natural wealth and natural beauty. The range of this country's geographical wonders is astonishing and glorious. I love my country. I love the principles on which it was founded, even if it hasn't always lived up to them. Proud to be an Amuricin and all that. But...

Nationalism is sometimes a two-edged sword. Our current leadership (using that term loosely indeed) has used nationalism and patriotism to commit crimes - "we have to sack the Constitution in order to protect it." (Huh?) They have used nationalism to justify invading a nation which did not attack us and had no intention of doing so. Even if Iraq had been thinking about it, had been wanting to attack us... the road of pre-emption is the road to Hell. We should have known that before (some of us did, she said a bit crankily). Our own and others' history should have told us that it never works. There may once in a while be a kind of success in the short run, but seldom if ever in the long term. Except for the few brain-dead die-hards like the administration, McCain (who does not seem to be getting any wiser with age) and Republicans too proud to admit the error their ways, we certainly know it now. Still these old boys chant the old God and country and "saving our way of life" mantra for us, while they hack away at our values, savage our economy, and destroy the lives and spirits of the young people who joined our military, either for love of country or in hopes of bettering themselves.

When nationalism is used to justify illegal imprisonment of both American citizens and foreign nationals, what nation is being defended? When tricks and sophistry are used (see previous sentence) to distort the law of the land on the pretext of defending it, what nation is being defended? When nationalism is used to justify the torturing other human beings by a nation that has long stood for decency and against such activities - what nation is being defended?

Lastly, nationalism has been used by the Bush administration and the Republican Party to silence opposition to their criminal activities. To raise issue with them and their insane actions is - in their view - to be disloyal to the country, unpatriotic. Those who questioned entry into the war in Iraq had their patriotism questioned. They continue to use nationalism/patriotism as a way to try and silence the voices of those who oppose them. Even now those who question are accused of "betraying the troops." Sending them into an unnecessary war seems more of a betrayal to me. Sending them ill-equipped seems more of a betrayal to me. Bringing them home in body bags seems more of a betrayal to me. Sending them on endless, unbroken tours of duty seems more of a betrayal to me. Not providing adequate medical and psychological treatment seems more of a betrayal to me.

And Calling what our young men and women are engaged in a "war" seems like a betrayal to me. It was an invasion. We are occupiers. (Actually, I think we don't know what we are, which must be another form of nightmare for the young people patrolling angry streets so far from home.)

But I rant.

It seems odd to me that the people who speak loudest about so-called "Christian values," have no trouble waging war on others. I guess they didn't ask the "What Would Jesus Do" question on that one. I think Jesus was partial to "turning the other cheek," and "do unto others."

It seems odd to me that in the name of love of country, we spend billions to kill and die and destroy, while we begrudge medical care, housing, education at home. Some even begrudge medical treatment and education to the soldiers who want at least that small return on their suffering.

It is sad to me that the land of the free, the great melting-pot nation who used to open her arms in welcome (at least in theory) to other nations, now simmers with hate and fear of others. I don't advocate stupidity. It is possible to be open and wise at the same time.

I love my country. That doesn't mean that anything goes. I love peace and quiet too. Doesn't mean I have a right to shoot the neighbor's dog when he barks incessantly. Any more than he has a right to shoot me or burn my house down because my spirituality may express itself differently than his.... or even my patriotism.

Love of country - nationalism - is a fine thing. But the kind of blind love that looks the other way at wrong-doing and that justifies anything in the name of pride or loyalty, doesn't seem like love to me at all. Because we love our children, we teach them right from wrong and we let them know that wrong behavior carries consequences. True love isn't always comfortable, it isn't always "nice." True love doesn't watch the lover go off a cliff while muttering starry-eyed nothings. True love leaps into action to save the beloved's life. True love says, "Wait! You're wrong."

At the present moment in history, I'm ashamed of my country's actions, repulsed and embarrassed by the Bush administration, disappointed and angered with a Congress that seems to lack courage and integrity. I'll never stop loving my country, but right now, at this moment in time, my heart is breaking for her.

Today on Memorial Day (and not just today) - I mourn for those young men and women who have died loving their/my country in both just and foolish wars. I grieve for those families whose sons, daughters, husbands, wives, cousins, uncles, aunts will never return to them...

I hope that one day soon instead of waging war, we will start waging peace. I think we have a better chance of succeeding that way and of creating a better world for everyone. Peace.



*******

If you have the time, I hope you'll take a few minutes (about 15 actually, I think) to listen to the Bill Moyer's video clips I posted on Saturday.