Three Stories of Bravery

#1
There has been increased coverage lately about the escalating crime in cities throughout Mexico, predominanly carried out by drug traffickers. Journalists have faced increased pressure to remain silent; reporters and law enforcement officers have been beheaded, shot at, threatened, and more. Yet, many persist in bringing this stories to an international audience and in continuing to work toward safety for their country. I find this sort of determination and commitment incredibly inspirational and humbling... and when I'm praying, these are some of the folks for whom I hope protection will remain and change occur.

#2
I heard an incredibly beautiful and moving story on NPR today about a guitarist who developed such a strong tremor disorder, he had to stop playing. Yet, in that bizarre and twisting fate-like gift of synchronicity the universe sometimes provides, he discovered an mbira on a bus he had been driving for a group of African performers touring the Northwest, and his musical life was reborn. I am a big fan of Ayub Ogada, and Crandell's style is similarly playful, creative, and melodically transcedental. I was really taken by his ability and willingness to immerse himself into this new world in order to reimagine his life as an artist. I think people are often phoenix-like in their resilience, and such triumphs should always be celebrated.

#3
I have posted my thoughts before on gay marriage and the confusion, anger, and frustration I feel at the current attemps by some in society to discriminate against others on the basis of their orientation, sexuality, or gender... all of which are beautifully, frighteningly, wonderfully complicated and intricate things. A friend of mine sent me a link through facebook to a mini-musical created by Marc Shaiman and Adam Shankman. It's about Proposition 8, and even though Prop 8 was passed, it gives me hope such a thing is still being circulated, and that some people might watch it and have a second thought or two about their biases or beliefs in this particular area. It's tongue-in-cheek, to be sure, but there are some great points in there about hypocrisy and the decision to treat one another with love and respect. Such a simple lesson, and yet we seem to struggle with it so much collectively.

Resonance, Respect, and the Existence of Greatness

Yesterday, I heard a segment on NPR about Yip Harburg and Jay Gorney's song, "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" It was on a series only sporadically run called What Makes It Great, and so the song was discussed by a composer/author/musician in terms of why this song out of so many still carries such a powerful message and remains fixed in our collective awareness as an "anthem" that reverberates forward.

Not only was the analysis fascinating and enlightening, but it also was a great segment that connected the themes of depression-era worry and loss with the current economic anxieties experienced today. Although we're not in the same place we were then, certain themes within the song easily parallel aspects of today's financial mess.

If you have time, listen to the story - if only to hear Daniel Shorr's rendition of the song, which is poignant and simple. And be sure to listen to Yip Harburg's rendition (listed among the variations along the left-hand side), which is strikingly powerful and further aids in understanding the song's origins and emotional message.

Harburg and Gorey underscored the need for social action and justice during the hardships of the Depression. Their hope was to call for greater awareness of the need to help one's fellow man, and the reality of a shared suffering in the aftermath of Americans' industrial, creative, and patriotic expression and movement through the early 1900s.

It reminded me, very strongly, of all the commentary surrounding Obama's supposed "socialist" agenda. I still don't quite understand an ideology that does not protect, encourage, and support every member of society. And it seems some Ameicans seem to truly fear anything that hints of socialism... and yet, why in the world would we not seek to be a nation wherein every individual feels like an equal member?

And so the message in this song... that I have built, I have fought, I have struggled... and now I'm being forgotten - the entreaty for human response and shared responsibility is what echoes forward to me. Perhaps what resonates so strongly is the request for recognition and dignity on a very basic, human level... which we likely all can understand.

Detroit Dilemma

Someone on NPR today echoed a sentiment I had expressed to my husband only days ago about the proposed bailout of the auto industry. Essentially, I feel like the issues that led to the current decline in demand for cars made by the companys in question must be addressed before any money is doled out.

Why not insist upon salary caps for top execs, mileage and energy efficiency standards for new models produced, and a timeline for expected growth/increase in sales?

As someone who is completely fed up with seeing flashy commercials touting cars that still only get 33 mph, I really think the opportunity now exists for the industry to remake itself and push into a new phase of creation and development aligned with green expectations and fuel-efficiency necessities based on our stated goal of weaning ourselves off foreign oil and finding new ways to support our energy consumption.

It's difficult, because so many jobs are tied to these decisions... and I would hate to see people laid off due to the poor decisions and bad management of those in top positions. But I do believe some kind of change has to be tied to any kind of financial parachute. Otherwise, we're just forestalling the inevitable collapse that will come from an industry that is out of touch and ineffective in the global market.

Sorry for the soapbox. These bailouts are making me increasingly nervous, and I still keep getting these nagging feelings we are in for even greater challenges and failings in the months to come. Let's hope I'm really, really wrong!

Art Collides with our Former Lives

On our way home from breakfast this morning we heard someone we knew (actually two someones) being interviewed on NPR. We sat in the car and pieced together what was being talked about and slowly figured out what our friends from our Chicago days, Karen and CJ, were doing on the radio.

Turns out they were part of this very cool project undertaken by Corey Dargel, a songwriter who took commissions from people online to write songs... which became an album of 13 songs written about other people's loves. He did a mix of relationship types (romantic, familial, platonic), and his music is sort of odd and ethereal and simple and poetic all at once.

Very interesting. If you want to listen, check it out here. There are some snippets online and a bit of Karen's and CJ's story, which inspired their song.

(it tolls for thee)

Have you ever noticed that when someone prefaces a statement with "I don't mean to sound racist..." or "I'm not a racist..." the statement is almost always, in fact, quite racist?

I heard a fascinating segment on NPR today where two regular reporters were interviewing people from diverse ethnic/cultural backgrounds about the election and the impact of race upon this particular election.

It's worth a listen if you have the time - if for no other reason than to take in something that is sure to make you think and hits upon some core issues and emotions that still exist within American culture as a whole.

It makes me hopeful such conversations can continue and that such discussion of how culture binds and breaks us may keep evolving and deepening over time.

the albatross : the phoenix :: despair :

This morning, NPR did a story on the current state of the economic crisis in Zimbabwe. I have found, in the last several weeks, it is important to remember relativity when worrying about life... no matter what we may think our troubles are at the moment, there is always someone in greater need who requires even more compassion.

I have been out of the news loop for a bit since our morning routine has shifted slightly, so it had been a while since I had heard an update on Zimbabwe. Today I learned it is struggling with an inflation rate of 231M% (that's 231 million percent); staples and common goods are unaffordable, and the unemployment rate continues to hover around 80%.

This means even greater numbers of people will require assistance of some kind in the coming months. Food, shelter, basic necessities required for mere survival. Talks are not going well thus far; humanitarian aid and strategies for helping Zimbabwe's citizens are being considered by multiple nations. Meanwhile, nearly every nation is weathering its own financial crisis and attempting to prevent some kind of economic collapse.

It's incredibly sobering to stop in the middle of feeling anxious about our own decisions with regard to daycare, moving, careers, etc. - and to remember how blessed we are to have such dilemmas to face. We need not worry about basic survival; we are healthy; we have insurance; we own a home; we have money saved. Whatever our concerns may be this week, they pale in comparison to the life and death struggles faced by so many people in multiple areas across the world.

The theme of perspective and its impact upon the quality of our lives has been at the forefront of my mind lately. I think that, if there is any power we hold in shaping our futures and realities, it is in the way we view and make meaning of our days. We may shape our destinies in the way we understand and articulate our own story - triumph or tragedy... it is all in the choices we make, the lives we lead, and the way we tell our tales.

loss

On my way home from school today I heard a story on NPR about civilian casualities during a strike led by the U.S. in Afghanistan. Apparently, the U.N. believes there is evidence to support the strike killed at least 90 civilians, approximately 60 of whom were children.

The attack took place during a memorial service, and it seems that faulty intelligence led to the unfortunate decision to strike that particular spot at that particular moment.

What caught me and has hung around my heart since hearing the original story was the experience of one of the men from that area. He is a member of the Afghan police force and was out on duty at the time of attack. He came home to find all of his children and wife dead. And he is now planning to quit the police force, unsure what to do with himself, as he carries with him a scrap of the dress his daughter was wearing on the day she died.

I know such mistakes are not intentional on the part of our country or those serving in Afghanistan (or Iraq)... but I can also understand the despair, and rage, and urge to retaliate when so much is lost in a single, misguided act. How difficult it must be to find forgiveness; how hard not to vilify or cry out against.

It has always struck me how war necessitates dehumanization of the enemy... and yet, in its wake, we are inevitably inundated with the inhumanity of violence, the frailty of our humanness, and the frightening presence of our mortality.

Something Rotten....

I am finding it slightly unnerving being inundated with election coverage all atwitter about the approaching conventions, while simultaneously hearing news of suicide bombings and violence in Iraq and Afghanistan every day.

Sometimes the discussions seem disjointed - as if the priority or emphasis of focus has been misplaced. CNN pundits blather on with sound checks in the background while the only discussion of 24 dead and over 29 wounded occurs in a brief snippet on NPR before heading into Irish music for the nighttime playlist.

Perhaps I'm just grumpy. Or maybe I'm not making use of the best news sources. Or maybe things really are out of sync... distorted by distance and demoted in importance because it's easier than feeling truly afraid.

Fear and Change in DQ Country

"Yay, we made it to the Dairy Queen and back without being mugged" is a phrase that carries a mixed emotion. It's not necessarily the type of thing you want to be thinking and feeling in the place you live - particularly when you have a small child and several night classes per semester.

I'm not sure if it's the result of getting older, or becoming a mother, or feeling a bit out of sorts and disconnected after two eye surgeries... but I have noticed an increase in anxiety and concern when it comes to my safety and the safety of my family.

Mind you, it does not help to live in a town with crime stats as high as the major city we once lived in. But I do think that safety, like so much else in life, has to do - at least in part - with one's perspective and mindset.

NPR was doing some strange little story on Anthony Perkins, the actor who played Norman Bates in Psycho, and in conjunction with the story, they interviewed someone who believes that people can sometimes take on the characteristics of loved ones who have died as a way of processing grief.

My grandmother was one of the most fearful women I've known. She was convinced the world around her was dangerous and violent, and I remember her nightly ritual of checking and rechecking each door in the house to make sure it was locked before she went to bed.

I go through the same ritual myself now... and notice some of the same tendencies toward hiding away from the world around us in an effort to stay safe. So... when the college kid who lives two doors down goes peeling around the street at 2am in a car with a tampered muffler, rather than being the first one out the door to tell them to be conscious of their neighbors, I tell Andy to stop flashing the lights because who knows what they might do in retribution.

Much of this current time in my life feels strange and so far removed from the concept I once had of myself. The courageous, charismatic, sexy, playful, edgy, strong, fearless self who emerged in my 20s and early 30s has been replaced by a quiet, careful, uncomfortable, fearful and often unhappy woman who feels somewhat foreign to me.

Whether it's grief or no, whether it has to do with location or perception, I simply know this is not a good place to be. Luckily, I believe wholeheartedly in the possibility of change and the flexibility of life... and so the visualization of a better future - the first step toward evolving the outcome - has already begun.

Far Away Up Close

Two stories hit me yesterday on NPR, and unfortunately I did not feel able to write about them yesterday by the time Ari was asleep and my day as mommy had ended.

I think both struck me as stories of disconnection or disassociation. The first was about the young boy, Zakria Ebrahimi, who starred in The Kite Runner. Apparently, he and his family are encountering threats, violence, ostracization, and discrimination as the film becomes more widely distributed in their homeland.

Although the young man was originally relocated to the UAE for his safety upon release of the film, he missed his family back in Afghanistan and returned home. His family is now seeking assistance from Paramount Pictures to relocate to a new area... and the company feels it is no longer possible to help the family in any additional way.

So here is a young man who is essentially an exile in his own homeland - all for the sake of art and filmmaking. Can a 12 year-old be expected to be courageous in this way? It's one thing to ask such sacrifice of an adult or to allow a professional artist to make his or her own choices and to accept societal, ethical, or legal consequences as the world responds to a particular statement or work.

But when it's a child, the issues of responsibility, consent, and comprehension and acceptance of all ramifications becomes quite muddy. What is the age at which you can willingly give your life, your consent, your freedom away if you so choose? Are there age limits on such things?

The second story was a different sort of exile - that of the hostages held captive in Columbia for for over five years. Their homecoming likely will be a mix of complex emotions and challenging situations as they seek to re-enter lives inevitably different from how they left them.

Both of these stories have led me to think about how so many events in our human experience - particularly the momentous, defining ones - contain a dichotomous element of joy and sorrow.

Many of our failures and challenges can be viewed as opportunities and beauties, while some of the greatest joys of our life can be the most difficult aspects of our living.

It has reminded me how powerful perspective can be, and how - even in the midst of events that feel overwhelming or within which we feel powerless - we always have the ability to adapt and evolve our ways of understanding those circumstances.

Collectors of Culture

Morning Edition did a piece on a band from Quebec in honor of the city's 400-year anniversary this week. The band is called Le Vent du Nord, and they specialize in collecting and re-interpretting traditional Quebecois music in order to preserve their cultural history in the form of song.

I was particularly taken with how the fiddle music and traditional foot stomping combine to create a driving, pulsing, impossible-to-ignore rhythm that makes your heart pick up and your mouth start to edge upward.

It's beautiful music, throaty and soulful... and as a lover of history, oral traditions, and cultural continua, I found their mission quite inspiring and reassuring.

If you happen to follow the NPR link, I highly recommend listening to Le vieux cheval - it's an excellent example of what the group seems to do best. Magnifique!

Gardenarium

One of the stories featured on Morning Edition today was about a nonprofit organization in Detroit that has begun to plant community gardens on foreclosed or abandoned properties to help offset rising food costs and reconnect community members in struggling areas. The food is free to any community members who may need it, and whatever remains gets donated to local food banks. Pretty cool idea.

The organization, called Urban Farming, hopes to create similar gardens in other parts of the country hit hard by the awful housing market. This, along with movements to increase community supported agriculture, local eating, and like-minded pursuits may significantly shift the way we think about food in this country.

Increasing self-sustained food growing efforts, community connection to local resources, and a sense of responsibility with regard to where we buy, how we prepare, and what we eat has become more and more important as the economy tanks and the weather gets worse.

One idea Andy and I want to look into: hydroponics. You never know what's going to happen with your growing season - particularly if you start getting hit with record-breaking temperatures, unexpected tornadoes and earthquakes, or anomalous flooding.

I think the reason the Urban Farming story has stayed with me all day is because of how much hope it gave me. I love that there are people in this world who can walk into at tragedy and create something productive and inspiring... who can connect people feeling scared or alienated and find a way to move forward.

Ingenuity can feel like a miracle in the right circumstances. And sometimes, I think we'll need a few of those in the next few years.

Anywhere Could Be Here

As I was trying to get Ari set up with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse this morning, I caught a brief bit of coverage on CNN of the crane collapse in NYC. I didn't want to impede the viewing of Ariana's favorite TV show, so I went into the kitchen to see if I could get more info on NPR.

Unfortunately, no information was available at that moment, so I spent much of my day watching Ari and wondering if everyone was okay.

Most of our friends in New York live in Park Slope, but we do have a few folks in Manhattan. (Although I'm so unaware of the city's geography and such that I am not sure who would have been nearby and who far away.)

It seems unfortunate for a city that has experienced such collective traume and sorrow already. With China, Myanmar, Oklahoma, Florida, Iowa and more... things seems to be in a heavy state of shift and unpredictability lately that are leaving many injured or dead.

Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the thinking that it will happen to someone else, or it will happen somewhere else... that such things do not occur where you are. But all it takes is one bad storm with sirens blaring as you rush to the basement with baby and doggy in tow... waiting for the all clear as the trees whirl outside and the sky darkens. The sky turns pink and the world quiets down, and you realize: this could be it. It could happen here.

It helps me to remember we are ultimately all one community, all one people interconnected and woven together despite geographic, cultural, or philosophical differences. I think I sometimes get down on myself because I don't reach out to every person (or every group of people) who have been hurt or are suffering in the wake of crisis.

But in the end, the simple act of reaching out a hand to one person in their time of need can be enough to change the course of a lifetime. And each small act sends out ripples that affect the rest of the web in which we are all bound.

Kindness has an impact.
Courage can lead to change.
Charity, and love, and communication may open someone's world.
And you never know how far those actions will carry.

May those of you who live in NY stay safe, and may those who were affected by today's events find peace.

Fellowship, Local and Global

We finally made it back to church today after having missed it for 2 weeks post-surgery. It was wonderful to be back and, as always, gave me a great sense of grounding, connection, and peace - which, to my mind, is the best of what any kind of religious or spiritual pursuit can offer.

In sharing our joy and sorrows, Bill asked us to remember those in China and Myanmar... which reminded me of a story I heard on NPR a few days ago. Essentially, someone involved in aid efforts for Myanmar was talking about how much more money and attention China is receiving, despite a much higher casualty and death toll in Myanmar.

And in the wake of hearing that story, I have noticed a marked decrease in the amount of coverage given to Mynmar right now. I hear about how the government is refusing aid and how relief efforts are going to corrupt and powerful entities rather than those who truly need them. But there have been very few reports with regard to the latest numbers of those affected, nor as many stories involving individuals - which, as some readers have pointed out, often provides a powerful way of processing and understanding such a large-scale tragedy.

In contrast, I've heard something about China reported every morning and afternoon, as well as coverage on CNN and local news sources. I believe one reason may be, given the reponse to aid by the Myanmar government, frustrations over a perceived lack of appreciation, cooperation, or acknowledgment of assistance provided have led to lessened coverage and perhaps fewer people being able to gather information or collect/record stories. I also wonder if those responsible for determing what is news might be deciding somehow that a nation that does not want help does not merit as much coverage? And, of course, it must also be noted that the issue may lie in the resources I regularly access to get my news. Maybe I'm just not using the best sources.

Whatever the reason(s), it is something I notice every day and it connects to some of the concepts and constructs currently being covered in my first course this summer semester: Cross-Cultural Factors in Counseling (particularly with regard to concepts of culture, identity, and bias).

I hope aid is accepted soon, particularly because - from what has been reported thus far - it sounds as if those in need are receiving very little and that people have had to rely on grassroots efforts and civilian-led cooperation and support that surely provides some relief but could not possibly be enough to address the many life-threatening results that still exist following the cyclone.

I pray for the continued safety of the survivors, for the peaceful transition of those who were lost, and that those who are wounded or hang in the balance may heal and gain strength in the coming days.

Be...

I heard a story today on NPR about women in Iraq who no longer feel safe driving because of the increased violence and potential for kidnapping, shooting, or other harm if seen on the road.

It seems such a simple thing and something I realized I take for granted. Driving. And yet, there it is seen as another freedom which must be limited or entirely taken away. What was inspiring about this particular story was an interview with a woman who drives local schoolchildren to and from school. She wears no head scarf; dresses in loud, flashy colors; wears bright makeup; and sports wild red hair. The only time she wears the traditional head scarf is when she buys gas for her vehicle.

And I thought, upon hearing this story, "This woman is fearless." Which may or may not be true. But she is inspirational in her passionate pursuit of something she loves and enjoys. Something she used to take for granted and now must fight for because her culture has shifted and she is now considered less.

My friend, Rachel Claff, and I designed a series of writing and performance workshops for young women a few years ago entitled Shameless. We felt it was important to explore the ways in which women (especially young women) feel stifled or silenced in our society, as well as to offer an environment in which vocalization of taboo issues or long-buried experiences could be safe and supported by others. (We later ran a similar workshop with men; they certainly have their share of silence and repression as well.)

Although we as Western women are much more free than so many other women throughout the world, there are still circumstances within which silence, submission, and/or secrecy are still expected. Diet, media messages, body image, and eating disorders... sex, gender, and exploration of sexuality... harassment and molestation... sexism and prejudice... menstruation, reproduction, menopause, and all things uterine/ovarian... etc.

Not that there's a complete moratorium on such things... but I do think a lot of girls grow up feeling certain topics are off limits, certain ideas and emotions should not be expressed, certain events or feelings cannot be shared.

I hope we continue to find shameless, fearless, empowered women throughout the world who are not afraid to live in a way consistent with their beliefs, dreams, and needs. Women who will die for their cause, who will fight instead of flee, who will speak out and stand up and defy expectation. Women who inspire without even knowing they are inspirational... simply because they live as they believe, and they are who they are.