The Last Day of 2009

Mr. Carol For Peace gave me the book, Sunbeams, A Book of Quotations, for Christmas. I like quotations and that word is starting to look mighty strange as I type this. Does that ever happen to you?

Anyway, here are a few short ones that stood out today:

Empires rise and fall like the abdomen of God.
It's just the universe breathing.
- Scoop Nisker

The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.
- Henry Miller

Freedom breeds freedom. Nothing else does.
- Anne Roe

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.
- Jean-Paul Sartre

I refuse to be intimidated by reality anymore.
What is reality? Nothing but a collective hunch.
- Lily Tomlin

Be kind; everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
- John Watson


And lastly, when I Googled "Scoop Nisker", I found his site which has the following quote at the top of the page:

Happy 200th Birthday to Charles Darwin! The greatest gift of evolution is a spiritual message: You are not your fault!
- Scoop Nisker


Oh, what a relief!

May 2010 hold much love and many growth-producing adventures for you!

Lost in Space

I know today is Tuesday, but I don't know the date. I'm not going to look at the calendar to find out, either. It doesn't matter.

I was to be in Gaza right now, but I'm not. I'm in a big, blank square on that calendar on my shelf. There is nothing written on that square because I reserved the day for visiting Gazans, and the vacuum left by the cancellation of the trip has not sucked in any new activities.

It's two minutes until noon and I haven't dressed myself or combed my hair. I did make a gluten-free, sugar-free dessert because the fruit that was thawed for it would go bad pretty soon if it wasn't used.

I've also been thinking about what I am going to say at this Thursday night's vigil which will be held in solidarity with those who are in Cairo attempting to get through the border into Gaza. I thought about it yesterday evening and during the night when sleep left me looking at the ceiling. This morning I read an email and, like that (she snaps her fingers), I knew what is asking to be said. I guess it takes awhile to prime the pump for these things...

Hmmmmm... I wonder if I should go take a nap now. I'm likin' this empty calendar stuff. Whoever it was that insinuated that it's good to be busy and productive at all times had to be a very sick person.

Before I go, here are photos of some very cool Christmas presents I received:

From my super awesome in-laws.

A three-record set. RECORDS! Not even recorded in stereo!
My son finds the best stuff.
I haven't been able to find anything about this album on the internet.
All I know from the cover is that it was recorded in 1969 and the cover art was done in 1973 - I'm assuming '73 is the year the album was created.

Good thing I still have my old turntable!

This would be day three of my Cairo experience if had gone on my trip. I would be surrounded by people from all over the world, along with Egyptian police officers about now. I had planned on interacting with many of the over 1300 people from around the world, but I hadn't planned on the police officer part.

Now that everyone has arrived in Cairo, Egypt has stated that no one is getting into Gaza. There are checkpoints along the road to the border so that anyone attempting to get through will be stopped. Permits for events to be held in Cairo have been reneged on by the government.

So the marchers are not allowed near the border with Gaza, and they are blocked by police whenever they attempt any kind of event or demonstration in Cairo.

What is left to do?

Well, tourism is always an option.

Or people can respond in order to put pressure on the Egyptian government and to bring attention to the situation.

Some activists, including 85-year-old Holocaust survivor, Hedy Epstein, are participating in hunger strikes.


Hedy says that she has never done this before, so she doesn't know how her body will respond. Still, she will do "whatever it takes".

For her sake and for the sake of the marchers and the Palestinians, I hope her actions are effective.

We don't want to see the headline, Woman survives holocaust, but dies trying to prevent more ethnic killing.

Now, at the one year anniversary of the war on Gaza, I'm finally seeing some significant news coverage of the horrific conditions of that area. Thanks to those who trekked to Cairo with hopes of marching in solidarity with the people of Gaza, the world will no longer be able to pretend it doesn't know.

A More Excellent State of Being

An outstanding article from the Wall Street Journal:

What My Daughter Taught Me About Compassion

By DAVID HOROWITZ

President Barack Obama has been in office nearly one year, making it two since my late daughter Sarah trudged through a freezing winter in Iowa to help him win the nomination. According to a Gallup poll conducted on the anniversary of the presidential vote, only 28% of Americans still believe that Mr. Obama will be "able to heal political divisions in the country." A year ago, 54% felt he would be able to do so.

When I read those figures I can't help thinking about Sarah. For the two of us reflected the country's political divisions in our own relationship—a case familiar to many American families. As a conservative and an active participant in political conflicts, I am acutely aware of how difficult it is, despite best intentions, to change the tone in the midst of debate, and how many otherwise thoughtful people can be swept up in its lower passions.

Despite our political differences—and the painful distances and predictable frustrations they created—Sarah and I ultimately came to the point where we were able to avoid the rancors of these public imbroglios. By the time she was overtaken by medical complications that derived from a birth defect, and which made efforts like her Iowa campaign extraordinarily difficult, we were quite close. Sarah and I were able to be respectful not only of the fact that we had such differences, but of the reasons why we had them. After her death in March 2008, I decided to write a memoir of her remarkable life, and to include the story of our estrangement and reunion in the hopes it might be helpful to others facing similar divisions.

My daughter was largely responsible for our reconciliation. She wanted to change the world—yet she knew this could only be accomplished one person at a time, and only by respecting the dignity of others.

Despite her physical disabilities, Sarah traveled on buses and on foot across San Francisco to feed the homeless. Even though she was a vegetarian herself, she learned to prepare meat dishes for them, because that was what they wanted. She stood vigil in bitter winters at San Quentin prison whenever there was an execution. But she did not think the criminals on behalf of whom she protested were innocent. Nor did she think they should be released. Sarah just felt that it was bad for the nation's soul to take a life.

Over the years, I came to realize that while some of my daughter's views were different from mine, the values they reflected and, most importantly, the estimates of human character on which they were based, were not so different that I could not recognize them. This recognition and the love I felt for her allowed me to open my heart and to learn.

A particular bone of contention between us had been over the Jewish concept of tikkun olam, which means "repair of the world," and is often wrongly conflated with the left's quest for "social justice." My life experience had led me to conclude that not only was changing the world an impossible dream, but the refusal to recognize it as such was the source of innumerable individual tragedies and of epic misery that human beings had inflicted on each other in my lifetime through the failed utopianisms of Nazism and communism.

For more than a decade, Sarah and I argued across this gap with much disappointment until I came to realize that I was missing a crucial element that connected her view and mine. This realization was crystallized in an exchange we had over a book I had written called "The End of Time." In that book, I observed that while the prophets of all religions taught us to love each other as we love ourselves and to think that "there but for the grace of God go I," this advice was ultimately imprudent.

Is it wise, I asked, "to put our trust in strangers, or to love our enemies as ourselves? Would we advise our children to do so?"

Then came a passage to which Sarah took great exception: "I cannot embrace this radical faith," I wrote. "I feel no kinship with those who can cut short a human life without remorse; or with terrorists who target the innocent; or with adults who torment small children for the sexual thrill. I suspect no decent soul does either."

Sarah took these words as an attack on the very rationale of her life, and responded at first with anger. But she relented and then wrote me this: "My objection is that you're confusing compassion with gullibility. I do visit prisoners and I think it matters to make that human connection. That doesn't mean I'd necessarily trust them with my purse. I wouldn't let the State execute them in my name either. I don't think kinship with people who've crossed the line blurs my own morality. In fact, it gives it more clarity. If you see someone in the fullness of their humanity, you see how they are acting out their own confusion and suffering.

"This does not justify hurtful or evil acts. It doesn't even always inspire forgiveness. But if you see someone this way, you respond more in sadness than in anger. And that is simply a more excellent state of being."

A more excellent state of being. My daughter not only understood the limits we face in trying to repair the world, but she had taught me that compassion like hers could be informed by a sense of these limits as well. "Even if you've never had this experience," she continued, "respect the experience of those who have. I'm not talking about an idea either. This is a full-bodied understanding of another person. This practice has in fact transformed all my relationships, including ours by the way."

—Mr. Horowitz is the author, most recently, of "A Cracking of the Heart," a memoir about his daughter just published by Regnery.

Principles of Christmas

Dave Beldon writes on Tikkun Daily:

Mimi teaches the principles of Christmas — that it’s about giving

This is a story for Christmas about an extraordinary Jewish woman: Mimi Silbert, who founded the famous Delancey Street self-help drug rehabilitation center.

She lives on the job:

Many of Silbert’s roommates have bottomed out after an average 12 years of drug addiction and four trips to prison. Delancey dwellers spend an average of four years rebuilding their lives, learning values and a trade in one of many Delancey enterprises: the Christmas tree lots, the restaurant, the moving company, or wood furniture making.

My wife and son and I buy our tree each year from the Delancey Street lot in El Cerrito. The service there is something special: you know that everyone has a story and you see the hope in their eyes and their energy.

Over almost four decades, Delancey has grown to a $30 million foundation following an each-one-teach-one philosophy – Silbert has never taken a dime from the government, given herself a salary or hired anyone. The residents do everything – from answering the phones to teaching the academic classes to building the dorms and counseling one another.

Silbert gets business suits as Christmas presents for all her residents.

“We don’t do things like other places,” she said. “We don’t boo-hoo in therapy sessions about broken childhoods. Blaming leads to acting out to guilt and a cycle of self-hate. At some point, you gotta cut it out. Everyone has the ability to sink to the worst or rise to the best of themselves.”

Playing Santa

On Dec. 25, Silbert, a former high school cheerleader with a doctorate in criminology from UC Berkeley, will dress as Santa and pull sleds of the boxed and wrapped suits into Delancey’s gathering hall.

In years past, after watching the uncomfortable newcomers try to slip away to be in private with their foreign gifts, she now insists residents model their new clothes on the spot. The suits have to fit, and they have to be in textures, shades and designs that make the wearer feel good.

“Everyone says, ‘Ooooh, aaaaah!’ as you turn around,” said resident Robert McCormick, 30, who experienced his first Christmas at Delancey in 2008. “It’s an amazing feeling. I finally felt what it must be like to have a family.”

Going from rags to Brooks Bros. was such an uplifting experience for Sean Cronk, 34, that he can’t contain his tears remembering it.

“All of a sudden people perceived me differently,” he said.

Once, while at a hospital, the staff mistook him for a doctor. That moment of respect left a lasting mark on his soul.

… “Mimi teaches the principles of Christmas — that it’s about giving,” said former resident Mike DeLane, a San Francisco fire captain. “She’s like the mother nobody around here ever had.”

For Cronk, it isn’t about the stuff in the box.

“It’s about being in that room on Christmas, to finally actually feel loved by people who are going to go through the hard times with you and truly love you no matter what,” he said.

The way Silbert sees it, everyone at Delancey is an immigrant to mainstream society, just like her parents who fled Eastern Europe to escape the Nazis during World War II. They settled on Delancey Street in New York, pooled their money and eventually moved to a better flat in Boston, where Silbert grew up learning to share resources with her extended family.

***

A Jewish woman giving family and dignity to her human family at Christmas and always. THAT'S what that man came to teach us so many years ago.

Merry Christmas to you this beautiful winter day.

The Price of Identity

I guess I had my own little Israel/Gaza thing going there for awhile.

As I prepared for my trip, I was "she who was going to be going to Gaza". I definitely had an identity around that. Not saying that is bad. It's just what was going on. I was excited because I had never done anything like that before. I had a lot of planning to do, so it was on my mind most of the time. And I also had some identity of being an activist who was going to bring awareness to a wrong in the world.

Then everything changed and I was no longer "she who was going to Gaza". I became "she who is sad and disappointed about not going to Gaza". Except when distracted by something else, THAT was on my mind most of the time.

I finally sat down and looked at myself, asking some good questions and waiting for the answers (I use Byron Katie's "The Work" frequently in order to question my thoughts). What a relief! I'm not kidding.

I am free!

When holding on to our identities as "she who is going to Gaza" or "he who has is a member of the 'Chosen Ones'" or "she who has been victimized by...", we can be at war with each other and ourselves, and we are definitely at war with the truth. The truth is that we are so much more than any of the identities that we choose to claim as ours.

Isn't it more enjoyable (and less harmful) to just be free?

Healing Art

Denver

Art

Museum.

Exhibits

of

Words.

On Walls

on ceiling

in the air.



Static words.

Moving

words

coming and

going

words.

Swirling

on my hand

words.

No

end

to

smiles

Can We Find Some Kindness Toward the Suffering?

Excerpt From Jimmy Carter's article in yesterday's Guardian/UK:

Gaza must be rebuilt now

Of more immediate concern, those under siege in Gaza face another winter of intense personal suffering. I visited Gaza after the devastating January war and observed homeless people huddling in makeshift tents, under plastic sheets, or in caves dug into the debris of their former homes. Despite offers by Palestinian leaders and international agencies to guarantee no use of imported materials for even defensive military purposes, cement, lumber, and panes of glass are not being permitted to pass entry points into Gaza. The US and other nations have accepted this abhorrent situation without forceful corrective action.

I have discussed ways to assist the citizens of Gaza with a number of Arab and European leaders and their common response is that the Israeli blockade makes any assistance impossible. Donors point out that they have provided enormous aid funds to build schools, hospitals and factories, only to see them destroyed in a few hours by precision bombs and missiles. Without international guarantees, why risk similar losses in the future?

It is time to face the fact that, for the past 30 years, no one nation has been able or willing to break the impasse and induce the disputing parties to comply with international law. We cannot wait any longer. Israel has long argued that it cannot negotiate with terrorists, yet has had an entire year without terrorism and still could not negotiate. President Obama has promised active involvement of the US government, but no formal peace talks have begun and no comprehensive framework for peace has been proposed. Individually and collectively, the world powers must act.

One recent glimmer of life has been the 8 December decision of EU foreign ministers to restate the long-standing basic requirements for peace commonly accepted within the international community, including that Israel's pre-1967 boundaries will prevail unless modified by a negotiated agreement with the Palestinians. A week later the new EU foreign policy chief, Baroness Catherine Ashton, reiterated this statement in even stronger terms and called for the international Quartet to be "reinvigorated". This is a promising prospect.

President Obama was right to insist on a two-state solution and a complete settlement freeze as the basis for negotiations. Since Israel has rejected the freeze and the Palestinians won't negotiate without it, a logical step is for all Quartet members (the US, EU, Russia and UN) to support the Obama proposal by declaring any further expansion of settlements illegal and refusing to veto UN security council decisions to condemn such settlements. This might restrain Israel and also bring Palestinians to the negotiating table.

At the same time, the Quartet should join with Turkey and invite Syria and Israel to negotiate a solution to the Golan Heights dispute.

Without ascribing blame to any of the disputing parties, the Quartet also should begin rebuilding Gaza by organising relief efforts under the supervision of an active special envoy, overseeing a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, and mediating an opening of the crossings. The cries of homeless and freezing people demand immediate relief.

This is a time for bold action, and the season for forgiveness, reconciliation and peace.

May it be so.

After a Steamy Night

Got ya all excited, eh?


(Sung to my favorite Christmas song, O Holy Night)


O! Holy Night!
The night I realized I'm hor-monnnnn-al
They warned me not to cut down at this time.

The source of the tears
besides from disappointtttt-ment
could be from robbing my body of its fix.

A little pill
plus my friend so rudely changing
is nothing like the pain in Palestine.

Count my blessings!
I have so many friendships!
The power to see this
in love is mine today.

The power to see all this
in love is miiiiii-ine today!

Christmas Commercials I Grew Up With

This explains a lot!

Buying Stock in Handkerchiefs and Tissues

The other day my friend said that sometimes there is so much love in the heart that it has to come out somewhere, so it comes out through the eyes.

It's been coming out of my eyes by the bucket and my heart still feels full!




Nick, Even if you can't hear it, you can see and feel the joy.

The 12 Days Before Gaza: NOT

Zen Student: "When times of great difficulty visit us, how should we greet them?"

Teacher: "Welcome."

A couple of days ago, I bought the recent issue of the Shambala Sun magazine to take with me on my trip to Gaza. I do better reading short articles while flying. My attention just doesn't last long enough for reading books. Too much distraction.

Today, I am not going to Gaza. I got up and found the magazine I was going to take. Now I don't have to wait to read it. I opened to an article titled It Would Be a Pity to Waste a Good Crisis by Zen teacher John Tarrant. The article began with the quote above.

My story began more than three months ago when a woman invited me to go with her and her husband to Gaza to participate in the Gaza Freedom March. The beginning of the end of the story occurred a few days ago when that woman suddenly pulled out of the trip. That event sent a ripple out which created within me two days of intense soul-searching. It all culminated when, last night, her husband decided that he, too, was not going to Gaza at this time. I could still go. Everything is paid for, there are others from Colorado going and there would be over 1300 new friends to be made. Plus I would see a part of the world I have never seen and I would participate in the Gaza Freedom March in order to bring more awareness to the imprisoning of Palestinians in Gaza. The soul searching, though, brought about a different answer. The trip is over.

My trip was about wrestling with excitement, disappointment, anger, feelings of betrayal, beautiful support, witnessing awesome people with varying intentions, fear, empowerment, learning, struggling for clarity, finding the wise adult within, understanding, forgiveness, total awe at life. It was a great show while it lasted.

Now, well, here I am!


Please remember the people of Gaza and all who are suffering because we have forgotten that "Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it to me."

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #6

There has come the time when the only "wise one" that I can lean on is inside me. No teacher, no parent, no friend has the answer.

Now the monkey bars are spaced too far apart and I can't keep holding on to the last one while grabbing the next one. It's time to trust the air between them.



Sorry to be so cryptic. There is nothing figured out, nothing definitive to write about. All the churning is going on inside me. In some ways, I'd say this is not a pretty place. But when I stand back, it is amazingly poignant, beautiful and honest. This may be the most honest place I have ever visited.

I thought this trip was mostly about finding myself, but I didn't realize that the finding would possibly happen before I left the house.

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #5

You don't really want to hear what I have to say today.

I can't write about what's going on while I'm in the midst of it, but after a little distance and perspective, I'll be back.

God writes a lot of comedy... the trouble is, he's stuck with so many bad actors who don't know how to play funny. - Garrison Keillor

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #4

A trip doesn't begin the moment we board the plane. Not the moment we pack, either. This trip has been... well, a TRIP for a long time, with the planning, conference calls, emotional roller coasters, etc.

Last night we went to a party. A woman who is a member of the activist community always throws a big bash about this time every December. Her dinky house is filled with wonderful people who work for social justice. The house is so small and so crowded that when someone wants to walk from the living room to the kitchen, EVERYONE gets to move in order for that to happen. It's a dance. It's a microcosm of the macrocosm - one movement affects the whole.

At the party, a beautiful woman, an elder, who is maybe 80, encouraged me, supported me, applauded me, and empowered me regarding my trip. That is the work of our elders. That is who I want to be for those who come behind me.

In living life, we are meant to go out, to risk everything, to find that which is bigger than who we think we are.

~~~

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, circumstances may be changing for some of the people with whom I have planned to travel. Things may be shaking up a little. That has made me look inside to get clear about why I decided to go in the first place. What drives me? If it ends up that my reasons for going no longer exist, do I still go?

In the end, I have realized that it doesn't matter whether I go or not. Whatever I do, I will not change the world too much , but either way, one movement affects the whole. Let it be a dance.


Reminds me of a song..


LET IT BE A DANCE
by Ric Masten

Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times
And the bad times, too,
Let it be a dance.

Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music say the words,
Fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance
Learn to follow, learn to lead,
Feel the rhythm, fill the need.
To reap the harvest, plant the seed.
And let it be a dance....Chorus.

Everybody turn and spin,
Let your body learn to bend,
and, like a willow with the wind,
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance
A child is born, the old must die,
A time for joy, a time to cry.
Take it as it passes by.
And let it be a dance....Chorus.

Morning star comes out at night,
Without the dark there is no light.
If nothing's wrong, then nothing's right.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance
Let the sun shine, let it rain,
Share the laughter, bare the pain,
And round and round we go again.
Let it be a dance....Chorus.

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #3

Yesterday I stood with our Women in Black vigil and was reminded once again how the atmosphere around our vigil is always different during this time of year. Each year at this time, our corner becomes a party, a community. More traffic, more smiles, more waves and honks and thank you's.

And I've been feeling different lately. More emotional and susceptible to tears. More in love with the world and with life. More grateful.

I'm wondering... does the absence of light during the winter months mess with our hormones?

These changes I experience and see around me can't be due to the upcoming celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace. A birth is just a birth. If all of this was about the person, we would feel peace and goodwill to all every day of the year, right?

I hope to someday discover this hormone that drenches us about this time each year so that I can mass produce it and spread it around every day. Maybe I'll figure out a way to inject it into our DNA (stranger things are occurring as I type).

But, really, could we stand to feel this much love all of the time?

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #2

On Christmas Day I will arrive in Egypt, a country that is building an impenetrable steel wall at the border with Gaza which will be 10-11km (6-7 miles) long and will extend 18 meters below the surface. According to the BBC,

"The Egyptians are being helped by American army engineers, who the BBC understands have designed the wall. The plan has been shrouded in secrecy, with no comment or confirmation from the Egyptian government."

From yesterday's Irish Times (whose article indicates that the Egyptians are now confirming the building of the wall):

Over the past year the number of tunnels has doubled from 750 to 1,500. They carry essential goods, household appliances, fuel, medicines, fertiliser, seeds, clothing, motorbikes, and even the occasional car.

If the flow of goods is impaired or interdicted, the 1.5 million Gazans would be reduced to reliance on the ration package containing flour, pulses and tea distributed by UN agencies.

Time Magazine recently ran an informative story about the importance of the underground tunnels between Gaza and Egypt. They are the lifelines for people who have been shut off from the rest of the world by the Israelis. From the article:

"There is only one economy — there's a tunnel economy," says John Ging, head of the U.N. Relief and Works Agency in the Gaza Strip. "You have zero exports and zero commercial imports through the [Israeli-controlled] crossing points. All that is allowed in is humanitarian aid and supplies ... In terms of economic activity, there is no economic activity other than the tunnel economy."

Ann Wright, retired US Army Reserve Colonel:

"The tunnels are the lifelines for Gaza since the international community agreed to a blockade of Gaza to collectively punish the citizens of Gaza for their having elected in Parliamentary elections in 2006 sufficient Hamas Parliamentarians that Hamas became the government of Gaza. The United States and other western countries have placed Hamas on the list of terrorist organizations.

The underground steel wall is intended to strengthen international governmental efforts to imprison and starve the people of Gaza into submission so they will throw out the Hamas government."

On Christmas Day I will be in Egypt. People in the U.S. will be celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace while their tax dollars pay for bombs in Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, and other places around the globe. Americans will wish for "peace on earth, goodwill toward men" while their country supports much suffering all over the world.

AND on Christmas Day, there will be peacemakers from all over the world traveling to Gaza to give voice to what is occurring there. There will be doctors and nurses in every country who will be tending to the illnesses and injuries of others. There will be people stopping to help the person in front of them because they see a need.

How does a heart hold all of this???







I Believe In Father Christmas

They said there'll be snow at christmas
They said there'll be peace on earth
But instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the virgin's birth
I remember one christmas morning
A winters light and a distant choir
And the peal of a bell and that christmas tree smell
And their eyes full of tinsel and fire

They sold me a dream of christmas
They sold me a silent night
And they told me a fairy story
'till I believed in the israelite
And I believed in father christmas
And I looked at the sky with excited eyes
'till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise

I wish you a hopeful christmas
I wish you a brave new year
All anguish pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear
They said there'll be snow at christmas
They said there'll be peace on earth
Hallelujah noel be it heaven or hell
The christmas you get you deserve

The 12 Days Before Gaza: #1

How did this all begin? It was a tiny seed and now the seed has grown into that huge tree. It's morphed into something not even similar to what it was when it began.

Months ago, my teachers told us they were going to Gaza and we were invited.

I have been invited to go to many places. I have said "no" many times. I don't like to fly for more than three hours. What was I thinking when I decided to go?

I definitely didn't know what I was getting into.

Going to Egypt and Gaza at Christmas time???

Doesn't win brownie points with the family. Doesn't help the busyness of the season to add trip planning, a gazillion conference calls, and calls to senators and representatives to the list of things to do.

And then there are those who express their fears about a trip like this. At first I was thinking,

"I don't need this!!! If you are afraid, be afraid, but don't share it with me. I need to go forth with confidence."

Now I have decided to interpret their doomsday concerns as meaning:

"I feel afraid when I think of going to that part of the world. I am a little afraid for you, because I care about you. I want to tell you to do what you can to be safe, but I already know that you are smart enough to do just that! So have fun!"

Through participating in the conference calls, I am humbled by the experience of so many of the people with whom I'll be traveling. MANY of them have worked extensively in the Middle East. Many have been to Gaza or the West Bank. (And they are still here to tell about it!) I will be traveling with seasoned Middle Eastern activists. I'm a part of the Interfaith group. I will be in the presence of a lot of wisdom. I want to soak it up!

I want to be changed by the experience. That is a loaded "want". Change can, at best, be fun. At worst, it can be debilitating.

But I can't afford a life unlived.





In other news...

Look at what my sister-in-law's family sent us today!



Our first holiday decoration for the year. And it's perfect.

Wishes of peace to you and all of the world.

Some Ways To Peace and Unity

I truly believe that we cannot be a part of peace in this world if we don't have peace in our hearts. We can't use unkind language toward others, fight with our partners, or foster deep judgments and chasms between races and religions and then expect a world of understanding and peace. It starts right where we are.

If we want a peaceful world, we get to create that within ourselves first. I find my inner work to be the most important part of every day. Taking time to remember that which is larger than me and also looking at and softening the hard places within myself are two things that not only help me to move with compassion in the world, but they also help me to keep some sanity amidst the noise all around me.

Ruthie Rosauer and my friend, Liz Hill, have created a book titled Singing Meditation: Together in Sound and Silence. One of my practices has been to participate in zikr - a singing prayer/meditation that helps one to remember and connect with that which is the source of everything - so I am excited about this book.



According to co-author, Liz Hill:

Singing meditation is a communal spiritual practice that combines repetitive singing of short, simple, interfaith songs with periods of undirected silence. It is like chant, but the music is more varied and crosses religious and cultural barriers (with respect and recognition).

Ruthie Rosauer, who has been leading this practice for five years for a variety of audiences, has written a book with Liz Hill to explain the practice and encourage people to try it. Singing Meditation: Together in Sound and Silence, shows readers how to start and lead their own singing meditation groups, explaining everything from choosing repertoire to promoting the sessions.

Here is a beautiful video example of the type of music Hill and Rosauer use in Singing Meditation:




Much Peace and Love to you and all humankind this Holiday Season and Always!

How the Grinch Stole My Family

My daughter was in town. My parents, my son, my daughter, Mr. CFP and I would have Thanksgiving dinner together. Beforehand, I wanted to find something fun to share. But what??? My dad will turn 90 in May. His mind and body have changed so much... he would not be able to participate in any games or activities. What to do???

I remembered a video that a family friend made of me, my son and my daughter when I was a single parent - when Mr. CFP was merely a dream in my mind, a glimmer of hope in my heart... (wait until he reads THAT!) I looked and looked for that video of my kids singing Silver Bells with accompanying gurgling. One young'un would sing while the other gurgled water -

Silver bells glug glug glug.
Silver bells glug glug glug.
It's Christmas time in the city. glug glug glug glug.


Can't you just hear it?

Great stuff, huh?



I couldn't find that video.

But I did find the video of Christmas 1991 - it was great entertainment!

We were all so young back then! Young Man Peace did some good boogeying (Michael Jackson must have been learned from him) and Young Lady Peace was her usual cute self.

My dad was... how do I say it? My dad was a different person from what he is now. He was my dad. I mean, he is still my dad, but there is somewhat of a role reversal now. I am now the one who knows how to find my way in the world and who can help him.

I had FORGOTTEN what my dad used to be like. I've been so much in the present, accepting who is here right now, that I had forgotten how things used to be. He used to be the person I called for advice when things broke. He was the man who could fix anything. In a sense, that man in the video is gone.

But the Young Peace-ettes are gone, too. They are both adults now, living on their own. Sometimes I even forget what they used to be like. (Hell, I always forget what I used to be like!)

When I think about it, it's actually humorous that we ever think we can define anyone. We're all, it's all, always changing.

Who are you again???

Gaza: Join Me

Three weeks until I leave for Gaza for the Gaza Freedom March.





I hope that my heart can take it...



If you would like to help open the eyes of the world to what is going on in Gaza, please organize a solidarity action in your community to take place between December 27th and December 31st. For more information, click here (and be sure to check out the side navigation on the page for more details).

From the organizers:

The timing here is crucial. On December 27, 2008, Israel launched an attack on the Gaza Strip called Operation Cast Lead in which over 1400 Palestinians were killed, including as many as 300 children. In remembrance of these innocent civilians and to mark the fact that it has been one year since the Israeli assault began, some 1,000 people from around the world will join with 50,000 Palestinians in a massive nonviolent Gaza Freedom March on New Year's Eve, December 31, in Gaza. The International Coalition to End the Illegal Siege of Gaza is calling on us to coordinate local solidarity actions to raise awareness and media attention for the big March and the need to end the illegal blockade.

I will bring back photos of what I see. I will write and talk about what I see. But I need you to help me and the other marchers to let the world know that the blockade on Gaza must be lifted.

Thank you!

A Love Letter To You

Did I ever tell you that I love you?
If not, I'm sorry to have waited so long.
In you I see myself.
In you I see eternity.
In you I see God/Allah/Buddha/Whatever-
You-Call-That-Which-Created-All-Of-This.
You are my teacher.
When you act out of love,
I find that within myself which is love.
When you act out of fear and judgment
I find that place within me
that fears and judges.
You are that sweet, innocent baby
that has become a man or woman.
You are the man or woman
who will let go into death.
You are more than a man or woman,
birth or death.
You are life manifesting itself in this moment.
Did I ever tell you that I love you?

DISAPPOINTED! But not surprised...

The announcement by Obama that is expected this Tuesday, which will mean the deployment of 25,000 or more additional troops to Afghanistan, is big-time disappointing to me, but I am not surprised.

I'm mostly sad.

Sad that our government hasn't admitted that you can't win a "war on terror" by terrorizing a part of the world.

Sad that soldiers coming home with PTSD and other ailments and injuries are given some meds and then sent back into war.

Sad for the mothers and fathers who will never see their son or daughter again - American parents, British parents, Afghan parents, Iraqi parents - people who loved their children.

Sad that it will take $1 million per soldier per year to pay for this escalation while people here and abroad are hurting financially.


From MidEast Dispatches: Where Will They Get the Troops? : Preparing Undeployables for the Afghan Front

In a grim November 3rd Wall Street Journal piece (buried inside the paper), Yochi Dreazen reported record suicide rates for a stressed-out U.S. Army. Sixteen soldiers killed themselves in October alone, 134 so far this year, essentially ensuring that last year's "record" of 140 suicides will be broken. This represents a startling 37% jump in suicides since 2006 and, for the first time, puts the suicide rate in the Army above that of the general U.S. population.

After eight years of two major counterinsurgency wars (and various minor encounters in what used to be called the Global War on Terror), with many soldiers experiencing multiple tours of duty, with approximately 120,000 U.S. troops still in Iraq and almost 70,000 in Afghanistan, with the Afghan War clearly in an escalatory phase, commanders in the field calling for 40,000-80,000 more American troops, and base construction on the rise, the military's internal problems are clearly escalating as well.

As Dahr Jamail, author of The Will to Resist: Soldiers Who Refuse to Fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, and Sarah Lazare report, under these circumstances, the Army is digging deep for deployable troops; in fact, it's dipping into a pool of soldiers who have already been damaged or even broken by their experiences in our war zones -- and that's just to meet present deployment needs. Perhaps it's not surprising then that Dreazen included this striking passage in his report: "At a White House meeting Friday, the Joint Chiefs of Staff urged President Barack Obama to send fresh troops to Afghanistan only if they have spent at least a year in the U.S. since their last overseas tour, according to people familiar with the matter. If Mr. Obama agreed to that condition, many potential Afghanistan reinforcements wouldn't be available until next summer at the earliest."

This coming Wednesday, people all over the country will be standing in vigil to protest Obama's troop escalation. If you live in the Denver area, join us:

Announcing a vigil to be held the day AFTER President Obama announces the troop escalation in Afghanistan

In order to show our disdain for the troop escalation in Afghanistan,
we will gather from 4:30 - 6 pm on the sidewalk in front (west side) of the Capitol building.

Come join us with signs showing YOU still care and do NOT support the troop escalation.

Sponsored by the American Friends Service Committee.

Thanksgiving

A tree popping up through a big crack in the boulder that rests on the side of a mountain.

A dandelion sitting smugly in the crack of a sidewalk.

Blue flowers dancing in the crevices of rock shattered with age.

A big, orange carrot grown from a speck of a seed.

You

Me

Life

So amazing.

So much to be grateful for today and always.

Much peace to you and your family.

The other evening, I took my camera out to play with my new super duper lens. Buddha, the dog, wanted to come along, too, and, well, what could I say? He IS the wise one, after all. It's not easy holding a camera still while a Buddha at the other end of a leash is pulling hard to find that perfect place to sniff along the path. It's especially hard to juggle a camera and a dog while picking up um, er, a dog's wastage...

For some reason, I am in love with, entranced by, drawn to reflections. I don't normally look at mine too much, but every other living thing's reflection fascinates me. The photos below are not stellar, but they were kind of fun to take.

This one feels serene and a little lonely - lonely in a good way.

I think that this one is my favorite. The reflections of the geese as they are about to land makes it look very confusing. I think that I like things to be confusing. Life is very confusing. Unless you think you know the answers, in which case, well, you're wrong! ;-)

My cousin will be surprised to hear that I actually like the black and white version of this photo better than the color version. A rare moment for me...


I hope your day is sweet with much time for reflection.

With My Own Eyes

"I made this film to satisfy my own curiosity about what was happening in the Gaza Strip since I found that it was very difficult to find information in the mainstream media and get a detailed look at what was going on, what people there were like, what they were thinking about." - James Longley, speaking about his film, Gaza Strip.

Like Longley, I am going to Gaza to see with my own eyes what life is like for the people there. I made my decision to travel there at the end of this year before I saw Longley's film. After watching it a couple of nights ago, I feel anger, fear, and a certain sadness. Gaza must be in worse shape than I had imagined.

I will be traveling with my teachers and many others at the end of the year. So far in my life, I have only been out of the continental U.S. while traveling to Mexico, Canada, and the Bahamas, so this is BIG for me!

I will write more about this as time goes on. In the meantime, there is much to do with the holidays, work and travel preparation.



The Gaza Strip is about 25 miles long and between 4 and 7.5 miles wide (139 square miles). That land holds 1.5 million Palestinians. 80% of the people there are living below the poverty line.

You can read Time Magazine's article, "In the Tunnels: Gaza's Underground Economy here.
Watch the video, The Tunnel Smugglers of the Gaza Strip here.

Hidden Lakes and (No Longer) Hidden Thoughts

I can't remember if I threw my tantrum before or after I took the photo of Hidden Lake that you now see in my blog's banner. [Editor's note: The photo referenced here has been changed since this article first appeared on A Peace Carol blog.]

I have an extreme case of insecurity and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy regarding my photographic abilities. On the other hand, I see Mr. Carol For Peace as a very talented photographer.

And I'm not alone in my assessments. Mr. Carol For Peace gets all kinds of accolades for his photos. People specifically ask him for copies. He was asked to donate framed photos for the fundraiser auction at work. I was not.

I live mostly in the right side of my brain. Mr. Carol For Peace is a left-brainer. He understands all of the technical things about a camera. I rely on luck - and once in awhile, it comes through for me.

In Glacier National Park, the Hidden Lake trail begins in a gradual uphill trek for 1 1/2 miles. Because it originates at the popular Logan Pass Visitors Center, the trail is VERY well populated with two-leggeds. Well, it's busy up until the 1 1/2 mile point. After taking photos of the lake from a lookout point there, probably 95% of the crowd turns back.

A four-legged along the way.

It was fortunate for me that we were the only hikers going down to the lake, because somewhere along the way down, I threw my fit of inadequacy. It was also somewhere on that descent that I took the photo that you see above. I think that's a pretty nice photo (mostly thanks to scenery that can't be beat), so obviously what I believe about myself is not necessarily always true.

I have been working on questioning the preposterous thoughts that this mind can make up, but it can still sneak right in with some strange thing that I'll believe - even in the face of conflicting facts! As I struggled with those crappy feelings in my body and rude thoughts in my head that day, Mr. CFP asked me a question - I don't remember exactly what it was right now - but it incited a flood of tears to well up. Tears of sadness that I can be so hard on myself. Realization about the story that I tell myself - a story that I am not good enough. Then for a moment, I found some compassion for myself.

Soon after that little drama, Mr CFP and I found ourselves alone along the edge of Hidden Lake. Truly, in many ways, the journey was as wonderful as the destination.



(This was written in response to Dancing's request regarding my banner photo. I don't know if this is what she was asking for, but this is what came out.)

Thank You!

Thank you for your response to my itty bitty favor request. If you haven't commented yet, it's never too late to do so in the post below.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Much peace, much love, this beautiful autumn day.

Would You Do Me An Itty Bitty Favor?

Would you be willing to add a drop of clarity and kindness to dilute the muddy puddle of confusion and judgment that many people have?

Quite a few people have made rude (to put it mildly) remarks about Muslims since the shootings which occurred yesterday at Fort Hood. If the shooter would have been of any other religion, maybe things would be different. We don't usually hate all Christians when a Christian kills, but there are people who say awful things about Muslims when they find that a person of that faith does an egregious act.

This is painful for me and it is especially painful for most people of the Muslim faith who would never entertain the thought of killing an innocent person.

Would you please add a kind comment on this blog to compensate for the hate that gets a lot of attention? I will pass your words on to some Muslim friends who could stand some kindness right now.

You can comment anonymously, if you want. I reserve the right to delete any unkind messages. It's my blog. If you want to be unkind, there are plenty of other venues for that.

Thank you.

My message:

I have looked into the eyes of my friends who follow the Muslim faith. I have looked into the eyes of my friends who are Christian and Buddhist and Atheist. In the eyes of every person, I have always seen the same thing. I have listened to my friends of all colors and religions, and I have heard the same needs and dreams that others share all over the world.

Hatred and intolerance make it into our sensation-driven media. I KNOW that for every word of judgment and hate that is printed or spoken through the media, many more words and acts of kindness are spoken and performed with little notice.

I hope that, amidst the anger that is amplified in the media hype, you can hear the voices of reason who stand by you every day. My voice is one of them.

In Peace,
Carol

Blogblast for Peace

I'm not supposed to mention that SOMEONE made this Peace Globe for me, so I won't.

Today is Blogblast for Peace Day. Thanks to Mimi who has orchestrated such a lovely themed day.

May peace be in our hearts today and always.

We interrupt this moment to bring you...




... some spaciousness

...simple peace and quiet

...a time away from news and to-do lists

...just simple nothingness








This moment has been brought to you by Life. Underneath all of the "stuff" we call life, peace and spaciousness await us all.

Right Here, Right Now

On Wednesday and Thursday, the snow came down and came down. Truthfully, it wasn't always coming down - sometimes it came across, blowing horizontally from the north.

On Wednesday I was at the office and the powers-that-be decided to close the place down at 2:00, due to the weather. I wanted to go home and wasn't looking forward to the drive. I had heard that the highway we normally take home was closed, due to multiple accidents. We would have to take an alternate route, which I prefer in the snow anyway. Still...

I stood at the glass door, waiting for Mr. Carol For Peace to get done messing with his computer (yes, we work in the same office). I felt antsy, impatient, nervous - wanting to get home NOW.

Then, I wondered what it would be like to be a small child looking out the glass door. All of the layers of thoughts and opinions that have formed over many years started peeling away until all I saw outside was amazing white snow.

It was absolutely, stunningly precious!

We Don't Need No More Trouble

This is my favorite Playing For Change song and video so far. For those of you who can't watch the video, people from all over the world, including Bono, are singing Bob Marley's War/No More Trouble.

"Until the color of [everyone's] man's skin has no more significance than the color of his [or her] eyes, everywhere is war." *

- Haile Selassie, from a speech made before the United Nations General Assembly in 1963. Bob Marley used the speech as lyrics to this song.

* [Inserted words are mine - thank you very much!]

Rethunk My Plans; Rehink Afghanistan

I was going to stay home and get some things done today. I wasn't going to get dressed. It was snowing outside and I didn't want to leave the warmth of my house.

Then I read a Contact Form submitted on my Carol For Peace blog. Here is the website of the man who contacted me: Marigold Fund, Afghanistan.

Looking at that site, feeling deep admiration for this man's work, I suddenly remembered that the video Rethink Afghanistan was showing at a church downtown today - as in one hour from that very moment. Not that watching a video will change the world, but suddenly, it seemed important. I got dressed, laid aside my introversion and shyness, and drove downtown.

If you haven't yet seen Rethink Afghanistan, I highly recommend it. I didn't know what to expect. I learned some things, was reminded of the futility of our military actions over there, and I witnessed the human cost of war. It wasn't an easy movie to watch, but it had me captivated.

To see a trailer and find out about a screening near you, click here.

For more trailers click here.

I truly think that, in order to live in peace on this planet, we need to care about the suffering of all of our brothers and sisters as much as our own. I would rather die early, having lived with benevolence toward all, than live long at the expense of another.

Under Colorado-blue skies
(Crayola should name a crayon
"Colorado Blue" after these kinds
of skies),
Buddha, the dog, and I
went to Clear Creek
to do our walking
meditation
the slow kind of wandering
a 13-year-old dog
likes.

We passed no one.
I soon realized why
Path closed, due to downed
trees. Dangerous.



I forgot
about the winds
and hail,
three months ago,
that uprooted grandfather trees,
that splintered windows
and filled houses with inches
of white ice,
that shredded tomatoes and
zucchinis and sunflowers,



that defied all attempts to
control nature, bringing
down trees and their protective
beaver-resistant
fence-dresses




This was truly
ground zero
that late July night.
Today the chain saws
and shredders
moaned.

First the hail and winds,
then the machines,
until we forget that
there used to be
acres of trees here.





Amidst the piles of dead
tree parts
an artist put brush to
canvas,




creating a soft,
graceful ballet
of fall colors.

While I explored
the raw and
broken.

Yesterday

7:30 a.m. Arrive at the public area between Denver Public Library and the Denver Art Museum. Unload bags and bags of shoes and boots. COLD! I have never been a part of the Eyes Wide Open exhibit in warm temps. What is it about that?

9:00 a.m. All boots, shoes and signs are arranged. Three women from the downtown Women in Black vigil arrive and stand with their banner. One of the women ends up standing the entire 5 hours we have the exhibit out. I really appreciate her dedication. A few people pass by. Some look for a few moments. Others keep eyes straight ahead as they walk to wherever they are going. I wonder how they can be so disengaged with what is going on around them. Then I realize that I am sure I have been that way before during times when I wasn't comfortable with what presented itself to me. (Mental note: I want to live my life being present, with wonder, open to investigating what's around me.)







A few of the "usual suspects" come and hang out with us. I love these people. All are kind. All trying to help the world in any way that they can.

Noon: The wonderful women from the Women in Black vigil that I stand with come with our banner. We all gather. There is a prayer. "...Remind us what YOU have taught through every religion, that we are wise to do to others not as we have been done to but as we want others to do to us. Open our eyes, make us wise that You give us answers better than war..." Names are read. The first Iraqi name, that of a one-year-old, shoots through the air and into our hearts.
The weight of my head is too heavy for my shoulders to support.










Then Jeff Lucey was remembered. Not a casualty of physical injuries, but a suicide after returning home from the war. A casualty of war, nonetheless. My heart... We all stood in silence for a long time. There were no more words.

Boots representing the unknown number of suicides that have occurred
as a result of the wars.

Thank you for the photos, Mr. Carol For Peace.

The Human Cost

If you live in Colorado...

8 Years in Afghanistan: The Human Cost

Join us for Eyes Wide Open, the Human Cost of War. As there are commemorations all around the world to mark this chilling anniversary, we will be participating in Denver with the Eyes Wide Open Exhibit.

Tomorrow, Saturday, October 17, 2009
9 am - 2pm

At noon there will be a special remembrance of lives lost in Afghanistan and Iraq, both civilian and military.

Location: Public space between the library and the art museum in downtown Denver.
10 W 14th Ave. Parkway