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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.