In the early morning hours just before sunrise, the house is dark and cold. I am warm, blanketed in cotton and silk, cycling in and out of sleep. Dreaming one moment, thinking about my dreams the next.
A shadow sits on a nearby dresser. It sits quietly, it sits very still. It sits and watches me.
I dream. I'm navigating a ship up a shallow creek. The ship's draft far exceeds the water's depth.
I awake. The shadow is on a chair on the other side of the room. In the pale light of dawn, I make out the shape of a bowling pin: narrow at the top, fat at the bottom.
I've taken the ship onto a road. The ship is 180 feet long, with a beam of 40 feet. It just barely squeezes by the telephone poles.
The shadow is on my shoulder. It's heavy. I see two triangles on a circle. Two round, dark holes are staring at me from beneath the triangles.
I stop the ship alongside a sidewalk. The crew puts a ladder over the side and I disembark. I gaze at the underside of the ship, wondering how I managed to get so far away from water.
Two other shadows appear. One is on the bed. I can see the flicker of a snake, weaving back and forth. Another shadow is silhouetted in the door leading to the kitchen. It has triangles above a circle above a bowling pin.
The crew is assembled on the sidewalk awaiting the arrival of the Admiral. I'll never make it in time. I'm not wearing my inspection uniform and I can't find my hat. I'm starting to panic. Everything moves in slow motion.
I hear Dukie's squeak come from the shadow at the door. The shadow on the bed clearly has four legs and a tail. I deduce that if Dukie is at the door, then this small creature must be Nora. Which leaves the shadow on my shoulder. It extends a furry paw and places it on my nose. Above the half-circle mouth and the broad nose, Thomas' two dark eyes looking down at me.
Duty calls. The cats are hungry.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
A Moment of Decision
A Moment of Decision
Something precious destroyed
Pieces at my feet
Pieces at my feet
Damage can’t be undone
Darkness covers the pain
Moments of anguish become days of despair
Darkness covers the pain
Moments of anguish become days of despair
No way to protect myself
No guarantee of safety
Danger is everywhere but so is opportunity
No guarantee of safety
Danger is everywhere but so is opportunity
This moment to decide
To change hurt into happiness
To repurpose what is left
To change hurt into happiness
To repurpose what is left
Some call it sin and forgiveness
I call it death and rebirth
I call it death and rebirth
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Running hot and cold
The water flowing out my shower spigot is a combination of hot and cold. Taken to neither extreme, the result is pleasantly warm and soothing.
Recently, while reading a book by Alfie Kohn titled, "Punished by Rewards," I came upon the phrase "dominance society." The opposite is a collaborative system of social organization. Intrigued by the idea that society can be divided into dominant or collaborative elements, I searched the Internet to see if I could learn more about this dichotomy. I was quickly rewarded with an article at an apparently politically anarchistic site that briefly discussed the merits of dominance and collaboration.
Simply stated, collaboration assumes that every member of the group has equal say in the process and shares equally in the outcome. It seems democratic enough, but so does dominance. In a dominance system with democratic overtones, a system much like ours in the United States, the people select individuals to have power over the people.
In Highland County, Virginia, noted for its mountainous terrain and scarcity of humans, it's easy to see the two forms of social organization at work. It turns out our little society of town and county government, community service organizations, small businesses and cozy little church congregations is a blend of both dominance elements and collaborative elements. For example, Highland Telephone is a cooperative, meaning that it is owned by the members. But its dominant, hierarchical nature becomes obvious once a month when the phone bill comes: I either pay it or lose phone service. Fair enough. But try to live in Highland without a phone and you quickly find yourself isolated. This could be a dangerous thing if you have need of fire, rescue or police assistance. It's hard to call for help when you have nothing to call with. Therefore, a phone is a necessity, and we are obliged to pay whatever we are told to pay. A small group of individuals decides what we pay, not us. Sure, the bill might have a blank that asks me to fill in the amount I want to pay this month, but I know the phone company doesn't mean it.
The same principle of blending styles applies to the electric cooperative and our social clubs, too. We play a role in deciding who will be in charge, then we submit to their authority, the same authority we gave them.
Submission to authority is mostly benign, I think. After all, as long as I can enjoy water and sewer services that someone else provides at an affordable price, I'm content to let the ruling elite (in this case of sewerage and water), to dictate the terms of usage for that service. Works fine most of the time, but there are notable exceptions.
What happens when leadership asks me to do something I'm not willing to do? In our system, a minority of elected, appointed, or corporate officials have the power to deprive me of freedom and the wherewithal that gives quality to the liberty that I retain. In other words, I am subject to punitive measures that can take my money away or put me in jail, either or both without my specific consent.
Technically, I suppose, I agreed to the penalties for failure to comply, but just like the phone company leaving a blank on the bill for payment, I didn't mean it.
Most of the time, the water that comes out of the faucet is nice and warm and I attend to my bath-time ritual with no complaint. Once in a while, though, someone flushes the toilet and things get unbearably hot. That's the time the one who flushed is going to hear about it.
Recently, while reading a book by Alfie Kohn titled, "Punished by Rewards," I came upon the phrase "dominance society." The opposite is a collaborative system of social organization. Intrigued by the idea that society can be divided into dominant or collaborative elements, I searched the Internet to see if I could learn more about this dichotomy. I was quickly rewarded with an article at an apparently politically anarchistic site that briefly discussed the merits of dominance and collaboration.
Simply stated, collaboration assumes that every member of the group has equal say in the process and shares equally in the outcome. It seems democratic enough, but so does dominance. In a dominance system with democratic overtones, a system much like ours in the United States, the people select individuals to have power over the people.
In Highland County, Virginia, noted for its mountainous terrain and scarcity of humans, it's easy to see the two forms of social organization at work. It turns out our little society of town and county government, community service organizations, small businesses and cozy little church congregations is a blend of both dominance elements and collaborative elements. For example, Highland Telephone is a cooperative, meaning that it is owned by the members. But its dominant, hierarchical nature becomes obvious once a month when the phone bill comes: I either pay it or lose phone service. Fair enough. But try to live in Highland without a phone and you quickly find yourself isolated. This could be a dangerous thing if you have need of fire, rescue or police assistance. It's hard to call for help when you have nothing to call with. Therefore, a phone is a necessity, and we are obliged to pay whatever we are told to pay. A small group of individuals decides what we pay, not us. Sure, the bill might have a blank that asks me to fill in the amount I want to pay this month, but I know the phone company doesn't mean it.
The same principle of blending styles applies to the electric cooperative and our social clubs, too. We play a role in deciding who will be in charge, then we submit to their authority, the same authority we gave them.
Submission to authority is mostly benign, I think. After all, as long as I can enjoy water and sewer services that someone else provides at an affordable price, I'm content to let the ruling elite (in this case of sewerage and water), to dictate the terms of usage for that service. Works fine most of the time, but there are notable exceptions.
What happens when leadership asks me to do something I'm not willing to do? In our system, a minority of elected, appointed, or corporate officials have the power to deprive me of freedom and the wherewithal that gives quality to the liberty that I retain. In other words, I am subject to punitive measures that can take my money away or put me in jail, either or both without my specific consent.
Technically, I suppose, I agreed to the penalties for failure to comply, but just like the phone company leaving a blank on the bill for payment, I didn't mean it.
Most of the time, the water that comes out of the faucet is nice and warm and I attend to my bath-time ritual with no complaint. Once in a while, though, someone flushes the toilet and things get unbearably hot. That's the time the one who flushed is going to hear about it.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Predator fish
There was a program on PBS last week about fish in Lake Tanganyika in Africa. One species of fish has evolved into a mouth brooder to protect its babies from predators. It takes its eggs into its mouth and holds them there until they hatch and have grown large enough to survive in the outside world. A species of catfish, however, matched that adaptation with one of its own: it lays its eggs with the mouth brooder. When the catfish eggs hatch, they eat the mouth brooders eggs.
Nature can be a very violent place. Humankind shares in that violence, not only in actions, but in words. Our mentors teach us to be violent to ourselves and others by what we say and how we say it. There are predator fish waiting to be hatched in our mouths. They go by the names of "should," "have to," and "can't." They teach us to feel guilt and shame and stifle our creativity and compassion.
The psychologist, Marshall Rosenberg, explains in detail in his books on nonviolent communication how these words contribute to violence among us. He also explains what we can do about it. First, limit the usage of these words in our everyday language. Use words like "want to" instead, and then only do what we want to do.
Second, listen for what people are trying to say, even if they don't say it. Angry words directed at us may be a way of telling us the other person has needs that are not being met. So often we hear what others say as a judgment of ourselves, rather than a cry for help. How we take it matters because it affects what we do next.
Action follows thought. If we think in terms of everyone's needs, we are more likely to be focused on ways to meet those needs. One basic need we all share is the need for love.
We can turn things around for us and create peaceful, cooperative societies where we share in the benefits of collaborative effort. We don't have to let the predator fish take over our mouths. Change begins with a word.
Nature can be a very violent place. Humankind shares in that violence, not only in actions, but in words. Our mentors teach us to be violent to ourselves and others by what we say and how we say it. There are predator fish waiting to be hatched in our mouths. They go by the names of "should," "have to," and "can't." They teach us to feel guilt and shame and stifle our creativity and compassion.
The psychologist, Marshall Rosenberg, explains in detail in his books on nonviolent communication how these words contribute to violence among us. He also explains what we can do about it. First, limit the usage of these words in our everyday language. Use words like "want to" instead, and then only do what we want to do.
Second, listen for what people are trying to say, even if they don't say it. Angry words directed at us may be a way of telling us the other person has needs that are not being met. So often we hear what others say as a judgment of ourselves, rather than a cry for help. How we take it matters because it affects what we do next.
Action follows thought. If we think in terms of everyone's needs, we are more likely to be focused on ways to meet those needs. One basic need we all share is the need for love.
We can turn things around for us and create peaceful, cooperative societies where we share in the benefits of collaborative effort. We don't have to let the predator fish take over our mouths. Change begins with a word.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Be thanks
Thanksgiving is a day specially set aside to give thanks. We are told to be thankful for the many blessings we have received and to give thanks for the bounty provided us by a loving Deity. But there are many unblessings we live with as well: disease, conflict, violence, anger, sadness, loneliness, war and pestilence. There are many reasons not to be "thank full." Why not be thanks?
To be thanks acknowledges the suffering as well the joys of life. After all, we receive both in abundance. To be thanks is to tell the truth, especially to ourselves. I am not thankful that my van was destroyed in a freak car accident. I'm not thankful a friend stole my life savings. I'm not thankful for the infirmities of advancing age.
There are plenty of reasons to qualify my thanks. I am thanks for the Chinese buffet in Harrisonburg that provides lots of good food for a ridiculously low price. I'm not thankful because of the nagging feeling that someone is being denied a just living to give me an afternoon of glutinous pleasure. I am thanks for the freedom I have and the beautiful country I live in, knowing that most of the world's population is poor and living in squalor, and that many people suffered greatly to give me what I have. I am thanks for my health, my friends and family, my relative ease of living, but all of this could be gone in an instant. We have so much, yet we have so little.
On this day of gratitude, let's be thanks for what we have, acknowledge things are less than perfect, and resolve to do something about it.
To be thanks acknowledges the suffering as well the joys of life. After all, we receive both in abundance. To be thanks is to tell the truth, especially to ourselves. I am not thankful that my van was destroyed in a freak car accident. I'm not thankful a friend stole my life savings. I'm not thankful for the infirmities of advancing age.
There are plenty of reasons to qualify my thanks. I am thanks for the Chinese buffet in Harrisonburg that provides lots of good food for a ridiculously low price. I'm not thankful because of the nagging feeling that someone is being denied a just living to give me an afternoon of glutinous pleasure. I am thanks for the freedom I have and the beautiful country I live in, knowing that most of the world's population is poor and living in squalor, and that many people suffered greatly to give me what I have. I am thanks for my health, my friends and family, my relative ease of living, but all of this could be gone in an instant. We have so much, yet we have so little.
On this day of gratitude, let's be thanks for what we have, acknowledge things are less than perfect, and resolve to do something about it.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Cleaning out the attic
We spent the week cleaning out our attic. If wealth were based on the number of things accumulated, we would be very rich indeed. But wealth comes in many forms, least of which are things. Even money is a poor measure of true wealth, if by that we mean the things in life that really matter.
Phil Dahl-Bredine and Stephen Hicken in the Maryknoll publication of their 2008 book, "The Other Game," describe the lifestyle of country-dwellers in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico in terms of a world view of scarcity instead of unlimited abundance. Wealth is not what we have, but what we share, the authors imply.
This is the way of countless generations of Mixtec campesinos, but it is a way of life threatened by a multinational, corporate economic system that extolls greed above all else. Greed, based on the erroneous concept of unlimited resources, is unsustainable. The authors write, "The principal of the Limited Good insists that on a limited planet, the distribution, not the accumulation, of wealth, will be the primary economic challenge of our future."
The authors describe one form of redistribution through annual festivals where the accumulated wealth of one village or family is willingly given to others.
The concept of redistribution of wealth is not entirely foreign to us. After all, the Highland County Fair and the Maple Festival, where various community organizations sell food and donate the profits to charitable activities in the community, are forms of financial redistribution. Taxation is another way of sharing the wealth. By taking a percentage of one's income and applying it to services provided for the common good, the community redistributes wealth.
Evidence suggests, however, a growing disparity between the very rich and the very poor, where the poorest in our society have seen actual income decrease while at the same time the rich grow even richer.
How much is enough? The answer depends on what one has. If we have clean air and water and fertile earth to grow our food on, even if we don't technically "own" these things, then we are wealthy. If we have friends and family, a social life, and support systems to get us through the hard times, we are wealthy. If we have ample opportunities to be creative and use our imaginations for the benefit of ourselves and others, we are wealthy.
This week we cleaned out our attic. Some things we threw away, some we gave away, still others we kept. These things are poor symbols of true wealth: they represent a lifetime of activity, memories of travel and fellowship, tokens of hard work and achievement. They are nothing more than the shadows of lives well-lived.
One practice seen among many indigenous societies is to periodically destroy the things accumulated over time. The idea is that it wasn't the things at all that mattered, but the human activity and interactions that made those things possible.
Maybe it's time to tear down some of the old monuments and structures gathering dust and growing ever more decrepit with time and start over.
Phil Dahl-Bredine and Stephen Hicken in the Maryknoll publication of their 2008 book, "The Other Game," describe the lifestyle of country-dwellers in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico in terms of a world view of scarcity instead of unlimited abundance. Wealth is not what we have, but what we share, the authors imply.
This is the way of countless generations of Mixtec campesinos, but it is a way of life threatened by a multinational, corporate economic system that extolls greed above all else. Greed, based on the erroneous concept of unlimited resources, is unsustainable. The authors write, "The principal of the Limited Good insists that on a limited planet, the distribution, not the accumulation, of wealth, will be the primary economic challenge of our future."
The authors describe one form of redistribution through annual festivals where the accumulated wealth of one village or family is willingly given to others.
The concept of redistribution of wealth is not entirely foreign to us. After all, the Highland County Fair and the Maple Festival, where various community organizations sell food and donate the profits to charitable activities in the community, are forms of financial redistribution. Taxation is another way of sharing the wealth. By taking a percentage of one's income and applying it to services provided for the common good, the community redistributes wealth.
Evidence suggests, however, a growing disparity between the very rich and the very poor, where the poorest in our society have seen actual income decrease while at the same time the rich grow even richer.
How much is enough? The answer depends on what one has. If we have clean air and water and fertile earth to grow our food on, even if we don't technically "own" these things, then we are wealthy. If we have friends and family, a social life, and support systems to get us through the hard times, we are wealthy. If we have ample opportunities to be creative and use our imaginations for the benefit of ourselves and others, we are wealthy.
This week we cleaned out our attic. Some things we threw away, some we gave away, still others we kept. These things are poor symbols of true wealth: they represent a lifetime of activity, memories of travel and fellowship, tokens of hard work and achievement. They are nothing more than the shadows of lives well-lived.
One practice seen among many indigenous societies is to periodically destroy the things accumulated over time. The idea is that it wasn't the things at all that mattered, but the human activity and interactions that made those things possible.
Maybe it's time to tear down some of the old monuments and structures gathering dust and growing ever more decrepit with time and start over.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Eleven eleven
Eleven eleven eleven has arrived. I've been obsessed with 1111 for months now, ever since the strange series of coincidences in which it seemed every time I looked at a clock the time was 11:11.
Eleven eleven occurs twice a day, of course. But why hadn't I noticed the other times? I'm not a clock watcher. Why did I happen to glance at the time only then?
After a few months of this obsession with 1111, I turned my attention to other things, like quitting my job and losing all my money, and cleaning toilets in our vacation rental. I didn't see that coming.
Now the eve of 11/11/11 is here.
It would be sensible to stay at home tomorrow, preferably hiding in a dark closet. But no, we're going to Charlottesville where I will take a three-hour class on how to use Facebook for business. The class costs $25. So far, I'm not finding a connection to 1111. I hope whatever happens is good.
Was my 1111 obsession a premonition, a warning, or just a fluke of the mind and its affection for symbols? I look for hidden messages everywhere: in trees, tea leaves, rocks, clouds. You name it, there's a message waiting to be deciphered. Now that 11/11/11 is here, I'll be looking even closer for messages hidden in plain sight.
Tomorrow is Veterans' Day. It will be different this year. Instead of breakfast at Highland Elementary School there will be a parade from the school to the Veterans's Memorial. But, we won't be there.
Where will we be tomorrow at 11:11? I don't know. I hope I'll be able to let you know on 11/12.
Eleven eleven occurs twice a day, of course. But why hadn't I noticed the other times? I'm not a clock watcher. Why did I happen to glance at the time only then?
After a few months of this obsession with 1111, I turned my attention to other things, like quitting my job and losing all my money, and cleaning toilets in our vacation rental. I didn't see that coming.
Now the eve of 11/11/11 is here.
It would be sensible to stay at home tomorrow, preferably hiding in a dark closet. But no, we're going to Charlottesville where I will take a three-hour class on how to use Facebook for business. The class costs $25. So far, I'm not finding a connection to 1111. I hope whatever happens is good.
Was my 1111 obsession a premonition, a warning, or just a fluke of the mind and its affection for symbols? I look for hidden messages everywhere: in trees, tea leaves, rocks, clouds. You name it, there's a message waiting to be deciphered. Now that 11/11/11 is here, I'll be looking even closer for messages hidden in plain sight.
Tomorrow is Veterans' Day. It will be different this year. Instead of breakfast at Highland Elementary School there will be a parade from the school to the Veterans's Memorial. But, we won't be there.
Where will we be tomorrow at 11:11? I don't know. I hope I'll be able to let you know on 11/12.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Dukie comes home
Dukie has found his voice. The little cat began life at a disadvantage. He spent most of his time at the shelter in the kitty litter. I chose his big brother, Thomas, and his "sister," Nora, but declined when given the chance to pick Dukie.
I didn't think he would live for long, but I couldn't get Dukie out of my mind. I adopted Thomas and Nora around Halloween that year, but there was that third cat, a sibling of the other two, that I didn't take home. By Thanksgiving I went to the shelter again, and there was Dukie, looking forlorn and forgotten lying in his litter box. I adopted him that day, but that didn't mean he was accepted by the other cats.
That was seven years ago.
For seven years, Dukie has been the cat left out. Dukie has always been the last cat at the dinner bowl. His siblings scoop up his treats before he can find them. Dukie has problems with grooming. His fur gets stuck in his mouth. He has no purr. His fur sticks out from his body like the hair of a punk rocker.
Meanwhile, Thomas has become the dominant kitty. He's also the fattest of the three, and the greediest when it comes to food and cuddles. Nora, our little girl kitty, has held her own since the day she clung to the side of her cage, meowing loudly to be taken from that place of refuge and constraint. We named her Nora because the doctor told us she was female. On the day she was to be spayed, we found out she was male. After the sterilization, I suppose it didn't matter. I didn't want to change Nora to Norman, so I left the name and identity intact.
Recently, I started feeding the cats a little meat with their dry cat food. The change in Dukie has been remarkable. He's meowing. His fur is slicked down. He pushes his way to the front of the chow line.
At long last, Dukie is home.
I didn't think he would live for long, but I couldn't get Dukie out of my mind. I adopted Thomas and Nora around Halloween that year, but there was that third cat, a sibling of the other two, that I didn't take home. By Thanksgiving I went to the shelter again, and there was Dukie, looking forlorn and forgotten lying in his litter box. I adopted him that day, but that didn't mean he was accepted by the other cats.
That was seven years ago.
For seven years, Dukie has been the cat left out. Dukie has always been the last cat at the dinner bowl. His siblings scoop up his treats before he can find them. Dukie has problems with grooming. His fur gets stuck in his mouth. He has no purr. His fur sticks out from his body like the hair of a punk rocker.
Meanwhile, Thomas has become the dominant kitty. He's also the fattest of the three, and the greediest when it comes to food and cuddles. Nora, our little girl kitty, has held her own since the day she clung to the side of her cage, meowing loudly to be taken from that place of refuge and constraint. We named her Nora because the doctor told us she was female. On the day she was to be spayed, we found out she was male. After the sterilization, I suppose it didn't matter. I didn't want to change Nora to Norman, so I left the name and identity intact.
Recently, I started feeding the cats a little meat with their dry cat food. The change in Dukie has been remarkable. He's meowing. His fur is slicked down. He pushes his way to the front of the chow line.
At long last, Dukie is home.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Respect
The first and last lesson of aikido, the Japanese martial art of harmonious movement, is respect. Respect flows from the teacher to the student, from student to student, and from the student to the teacher. Without respect, there is only form. That's just not enough for me.
I've practiced aikido for 30 years. Twenty years ago I received a black belt. It's a lesson in humility and a great responsibility. You are told with your black belt your training has just begun. The responsibility is to share that knowledge received with others who have shown themselves ready and worthy to receive the training. Worthiness is simple to assess: is the student willing to give and receive the techniques of aikido with respect? Readiness is also easy to assess: does the student want to learn?
I've practiced aikido for 30 years. Twenty years ago I received a black belt. It's a lesson in humility and a great responsibility. You are told with your black belt your training has just begun. The responsibility is to share that knowledge received with others who have shown themselves ready and worthy to receive the training. Worthiness is simple to assess: is the student willing to give and receive the techniques of aikido with respect? Readiness is also easy to assess: does the student want to learn?
Friday, November 4, 2011
Veterans Day
Miss Cappie,
preschool teacher at Highland County Public Schools, and the students and their
escorts visited the courthouse today. Deputy Bill Wagner was there with his
family. I watched from a distance as the group explored the Veteran's Memorial.
From Artful
Gifts, I have a front-row view of the courthouse. The Veteran's Memorial is to
the left close to the sheriff's office. Each branch of the military has its
flag flying, with the American flag standing taller than the rest and in the
middle. To the right is the courthouse. Four white pillars stand in front of
the red brick building. The porch roof forms a triangle of white. In the middle
of the triangle is a semicircle of glass, three white spokes emanating from
center, four more spokes joining the three from another semicircle of white
dividing the glass. The spokes and semicircle divide the glass into 12 parts.
Slightly behind the triangle is a clock tower with a green, presumably copper,
cupola. There is no clock, only the outline of where one could go. On the side
of the triangular roof are variously
configured rectangular roofs covered in grey slate tile.
In front of the
pillars are the American flag on the left and the Virginia flag on the right,
framing the steps leading up to the entrance. Also framed by and in front of
the flags is a white stone statue of a soldier from long ago standing atop a
grey pillar, a rifle at his right side, his left hand shading his eyes. The
soldier appears to be looking to the north.
The stone
soldier is there in memory of those who fought in the Civil War. The Veteran's
Memorial honors all those who served in the military. The flags represent
branches of the military, and the state and federal governments.
Behind and to
the right of the courthouse is a two-story wood framed building with a sign in
the shape of a trout on the roof and the word, "maple," printed in
its body.
Further to the
right is the steeple of Monterey Presbyterian Church, and still further to the
right is First and Citizens Bank.
The forecast says
this afternoon will be sunny. The sky is overcast. Countless brown and yellow
leaves cover the green grass in front of the courthouse. A breeze causes the flags to sway ever so
slightly.
Veteran's Day is
a week away. On that day a parade will go from HCPS to the Veteran's Memorial.
Hopefully it will be a nice day for a parade. But who can predict the future.
We make our best guess and accept whatever comes our way knowing that
everything is not always what it seems.
The soldier in
the yard is not in a Civil War uniform and the statue itself came from Italy,
according to local sources. The old courthouse was rebuilt after a fire in the
1940s. The flags represent different things to different people, depending on
political persuasion and temperament. The church could be a sign of unity under
God or division among people in the community. The bank could be a sign of
community wealth or poverty depending on who has money there or who is not able
to get a loan.
The Veteran's
Memorial could be a sign of local patriotism or nationalism, or a way to
remember friends and family who have served in the military.
And the Maple
fish is no fish at all. It just looks like one.
The sun has
finally come out as predicted, although a little late. The red and yellow leaves
of the artificial plants in the Artful Gifts window sparkle.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Among the Baptists
Lisa and I went
to the Baptist church Sunday. The singing was nice. The potluck after service
was fantastic. The sermon was about God's blessings and curses. Pastor Mark
Davis emphasized blessings.
I picked up a
Bible in the pew and read the curses listed in Deuteronomy. There are a lot of
them.
Throughout the
service and the meal I could feel the love of everyone there. We were made to
feel welcome. I like Pastor Mark. I'd go back to his church, especially when
they are having potluck. I'll even bring something to share.
It is a blessing
to me to be able to attend Christian services. I am saddened by the knowledge,
however, that Christianity often positions itself as separate and apart from
all other religions. I've heard it said that there are Christians and there is
everyone else. For convenience, I'll use the term, pagan, to refer to everyone
else. Paganism as I've come to know and practice it is amazingly diverse. I
think that even Christianity can be considered a pagan religion.
Let me explain.
Pagans worship, Christians worship. Pagans believe in God, Christians believe
in God. Pagans believe in justice and fairness and doing the right thing, just
like Christians.
Pagans believe
in the power of love. Christians say God is love.
And pagans like
potlucks.
Amen to that.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Election Day Jitters
I don't know which is scarier: Halloween or Election Day. On the one hand, children
wearing masks come to our doors to extort candy from us. On the other hand, adults
come to the door asking us to put them in charge over us.
Highland County has five men running for sheriff. I feel woefully unprepared and
unqualified to decide who should be in charge of county law enforcement. If I choose
the wrong man for the job, I will most likely suffer the consequences. The sheriff is the
one person most responsible for public safety, after all. A mistake could make me less
safe.
We've had the same sheriff for 20 years. Good or bad, at least we know him. Someone
new, no matter their background, experience, or sincerity, will go through a period of onthe-
job training. It's like giving your car keys to a someone who has never driven your
car before. One is entitled to just a little apprehension as the unknown takes the wheel.
Lacking confidence in my own judgment, I'm not sure I'll vote this year. I'm even less
certain I'll vote next year when the federal election takes place and the stakes are so
much higher. If we mess up and pick the wrong candidate in a local election, we can
move to another county or state. But where do we go when we mess up at the national
level?
If I do vote this year, my choice for sheriff will be decided when I am clear about the
answer to this question: Who do I want to appear on my doorstep in the middle of the
night, if I were in trouble with the law?
wearing masks come to our doors to extort candy from us. On the other hand, adults
come to the door asking us to put them in charge over us.
Highland County has five men running for sheriff. I feel woefully unprepared and
unqualified to decide who should be in charge of county law enforcement. If I choose
the wrong man for the job, I will most likely suffer the consequences. The sheriff is the
one person most responsible for public safety, after all. A mistake could make me less
safe.
We've had the same sheriff for 20 years. Good or bad, at least we know him. Someone
new, no matter their background, experience, or sincerity, will go through a period of onthe-
job training. It's like giving your car keys to a someone who has never driven your
car before. One is entitled to just a little apprehension as the unknown takes the wheel.
Lacking confidence in my own judgment, I'm not sure I'll vote this year. I'm even less
certain I'll vote next year when the federal election takes place and the stakes are so
much higher. If we mess up and pick the wrong candidate in a local election, we can
move to another county or state. But where do we go when we mess up at the national
level?
If I do vote this year, my choice for sheriff will be decided when I am clear about the
answer to this question: Who do I want to appear on my doorstep in the middle of the
night, if I were in trouble with the law?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Chance of snow tonight. Today was warm, but wet. The leaves are mostly yellowed and blowing around on the ground. It's fall in the mountains.
People politely complain about the weather. It's too hot or too cold, it's raining too much or not enough. Now snow is coming. Have a nice day.
My response to the weather is indifference. If it's cold, I'll put on warmer clothing and turn on the furnace. If it's hot, I'll open the windows.
The lack of sunshine, though, is something I dread. It's hard to be cheerful on a dark day. It's hard to get up in the morning before the sun rises. Most of the year I get away with rising with the sun, but this time of year the sun comes up so late, it seems almost indecent to linger in bed when there is so much work to be done.
Of course, the sun sets earlier each night. A star-filled evening is a wonder to behold, especially in Highland County where there are few lights to mar the night sky. But a cloudy night is almost unbearable. The lack of visibility on the darkest of nights explains the saying, "the darkness is closing in." That's the way I feel. The darkness is closing in. In the dark, I am alone. I am also afraid.
Halloween is a few days away. It's a seasonal celebration loathed by some, adored by others. I am a keeper of Halloween, if only in my heart. I won't put out any candy for the trick-or-treaters. Experience has shown no one comes down to the end of my lane. But I will remember the warm days of summer, the sunny days of summer, the green days of summer, as I mark the transition from a time of light to a time of darkness. I'll also remember my dead, the relatives and friends who have passed from this world into the shadows. At least it is a place of shadows to me, because only faith reveals what lies beyond.
Halloween is a good time to light a candle and put it in a window. One old tradition says the candle is to light the way of the spirits passing in the night, when the veil between this world and the next is thin. Another reason for a candle is to replace the darkness with light. The candle becomes a miniature sun, too small to provide much warmth for the body, but it does warm the spirit.
I'm sitting in the dark now. The only light I have is from the computer screen, a modern substitute for the candle. Somehow that rectangular glow of background light is comforting. When I'm sitting at the computer lost in my thoughts, I'm just not so afraid.
People politely complain about the weather. It's too hot or too cold, it's raining too much or not enough. Now snow is coming. Have a nice day.
My response to the weather is indifference. If it's cold, I'll put on warmer clothing and turn on the furnace. If it's hot, I'll open the windows.
The lack of sunshine, though, is something I dread. It's hard to be cheerful on a dark day. It's hard to get up in the morning before the sun rises. Most of the year I get away with rising with the sun, but this time of year the sun comes up so late, it seems almost indecent to linger in bed when there is so much work to be done.
Of course, the sun sets earlier each night. A star-filled evening is a wonder to behold, especially in Highland County where there are few lights to mar the night sky. But a cloudy night is almost unbearable. The lack of visibility on the darkest of nights explains the saying, "the darkness is closing in." That's the way I feel. The darkness is closing in. In the dark, I am alone. I am also afraid.
Halloween is a few days away. It's a seasonal celebration loathed by some, adored by others. I am a keeper of Halloween, if only in my heart. I won't put out any candy for the trick-or-treaters. Experience has shown no one comes down to the end of my lane. But I will remember the warm days of summer, the sunny days of summer, the green days of summer, as I mark the transition from a time of light to a time of darkness. I'll also remember my dead, the relatives and friends who have passed from this world into the shadows. At least it is a place of shadows to me, because only faith reveals what lies beyond.
Halloween is a good time to light a candle and put it in a window. One old tradition says the candle is to light the way of the spirits passing in the night, when the veil between this world and the next is thin. Another reason for a candle is to replace the darkness with light. The candle becomes a miniature sun, too small to provide much warmth for the body, but it does warm the spirit.
I'm sitting in the dark now. The only light I have is from the computer screen, a modern substitute for the candle. Somehow that rectangular glow of background light is comforting. When I'm sitting at the computer lost in my thoughts, I'm just not so afraid.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
A beautiful day
Marshall
Rosenberg is the author of "Speak Peace in a World of Conflict." His
message is simple: speech affects behavior.
I woke up this
morning hoping for another beautiful day. I took the dog for a walk, fixed
breakfast for the cats and the dog, cleaned up animal indiscretions on the
floor, took a shower,said morning prayers, checked the Vacation Rentals By
Owner Web site for inquiries for our chalet, prepared breakfast and sipped my
favorite beverage, cafe latte.
The sun is
shining and the skies are clear. The rising sun lighted up a tree turned fall
red. I walked mindfully along Clover Lane, Roxie walking patiently at my side,
tethered by a short leash.
I spoke to Lisa
who is in Richmond on business. She made one sale of a handmade guitar cover
and is scheduled to present her felted clothing line to a museum store buyer.
Today, I'll
clean the chalet for guests coming this weekend and clean our house for Lisa's
return tonight.
Tonight I'll
also participate in the initiation of a new member of Highland Lodge 110 of
Ancient, Free and Accepted Masons.
While I was
eating, a friend dropped off copies of "Demian" and "Steppenwolf" by Hermann Hesse,
leaving them outside the door. She
didn't knock or stop to visit. I heard her footsteps on the wooden walk but
didn't get up to investigate until after I was sure she was gone.
My mind is full
of conflict, inner turmoils I have nurtured for a lifetime. In the solitary
quiet of my home, I hope to find peace. Peace begins with a word.
Today is a
beautiful day. I have said it is so, now I will make it so.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Beginning
Several months ago I left The Recorder. Since then many people have told me they miss my writing. I can't go back to the paper, but I can move forward. My newspaper column I titled "Conversations" because I wanted to carry on a dialog with my readers. To that end I continue to write.
Since last I wrote many things have happened. Our financial advisor took our money. We are starting over, rebuilding the nest egg that is now gone. We are going to move Artful Gifts into Highland County Crafts, and we are hoping to sell the chalet. We are cutting down on overhead and living on a tight budget.
Hopefully, the dream that brought us to Highland County will continue. When I met Lisa 16 years ago, we told each other we wanted to live in the mountains and be artists. In 1997, we moved to Monterey, Virginia, high up in the Alleghanies, west of the Shenandoah Valley. Today we are fiber artists, working mostly with handfelted wool. Lisa designs clothing and I make kumihimo braided belts and necklaces.
I also write.
I'd write for free. I'd write even if no one ever saw my writing.
I hope my writing is not an exercise in self-promotion or an attempt to inflate my ego. I will keep my messages brief and to the point. I will strive to be relevant, to talk about things that matter. My goal is to make life better for myself and others.
Hopefully that's enough.
Since last I wrote many things have happened. Our financial advisor took our money. We are starting over, rebuilding the nest egg that is now gone. We are going to move Artful Gifts into Highland County Crafts, and we are hoping to sell the chalet. We are cutting down on overhead and living on a tight budget.
Hopefully, the dream that brought us to Highland County will continue. When I met Lisa 16 years ago, we told each other we wanted to live in the mountains and be artists. In 1997, we moved to Monterey, Virginia, high up in the Alleghanies, west of the Shenandoah Valley. Today we are fiber artists, working mostly with handfelted wool. Lisa designs clothing and I make kumihimo braided belts and necklaces.
I also write.
I'd write for free. I'd write even if no one ever saw my writing.
I hope my writing is not an exercise in self-promotion or an attempt to inflate my ego. I will keep my messages brief and to the point. I will strive to be relevant, to talk about things that matter. My goal is to make life better for myself and others.
Hopefully that's enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)