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.
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