Checking Up on the Last Year

The Year Is Ending. It is time to review my progress toward goals set this year (and to consider goals for next year). This is always a curious process. There are goals that are unmet with good reason (e.g., as I progressed I concluded that they were not necessary or desirable) and goals that were lost in the rush of time. Here is my annual review and beginning of goal setting for the next year.

A Blast from the Past
Here is last year’s list of goals.Looking at them, I realize that they are not as fully formed, as they should have been. I have not done a regular check up, as I have in the past. This has been an interesting, and difficult, year. Goals set were:

• Financial: To live within a budget and to responsibly service my debts;
• Professional: To locate suitable employment that will allow me to meet my nut every month with room to spare;
• Music: Complete the CD and distribute, gig to support it and for personal satisfaction;
• Personal Relationships: Spend quality time with the important people in my life;
• Spiritual: Continue to do anonymous kindness for those that cannot repay me, improve my spiritual development.

My goal under “Spiritual” has remained this way for some years. I do not intend to change this.It is not tied to performance measures or milestones. It serves as a reminder of my need to continue doing for others with no expectation of being paid back for my kindness. Kindness should be lived in all contexts. I have often failed in this arena. I need to be reminded that I can never be kind enough; there is always room to grow. Having said that, I am happy that I have made this a centerpiece for my life this year. I have done much, most of which has not graced the pages in this ‘blog.

Music has suffered the most this year, largely owing to finances. I have been hit by several expenses that I did not, in any way, anticipate or budget for. Instruments were pawned to pay expenses.I am only now able to get them out of prison, and slowly at that.

July-August-September were particularly difficult.I developed some health issues that have taken their fiscal, as well as physical, toll. They will pass.The rest is only money. Debts will all be serviced. I don’t fail my obligations. Sometimes it takes me much longer than I wanted, though, to make good. Realistically, I don’t know what to do with my music project. I have too much invested into it to shelf it, but I lack the time to complete it. It may become a summer project. Money remains a mystery to me. My Financial goals remain the same: stability. While I am making slow progress toward reestablishing myself, I still struggle. Enough said here.

Professional goals now are shifting toward going clear on my credential. I am working, though I am clearing less money than I did as a long-term sub (by nearly $500.00 per month!). I am contributing toward my retirement, though. I need to think of this as income rather than a deduction. I will have to go back to school in September. I also want to complete my M.Ed. during this next year. That will mean more funds.

Personal Relationships were a mixed bag this year. There has been more virtual ink spilled over this in this ‘blog than I care to consider. When I fall in love, I fall hard. It makes the betrayals all the more difficult. I squandered my heart on an unworthy woman. Looking back, I can see that she had difficulties that, while unaccounted in this ‘blog, were key to her being unable to do anything without condition. I have done well with my daughters and friends, though.

What’s Next?
I will have to spend some time thinking about the next set of goals. The spiritual goal will remain the same. I don’t know about a specific discipline. Financial will need to improve, too. I need to work on music since much of my sanity is tied to my art.

More later…
- tDF

Not All May Live in Community

I will freely admit that this is disturbing to me. I have been thinking about the death penalty since the State of California executed Stanley Williams. It seems that there are several other people awaiting execution in my home state, several of which have already had the dates of their deaths set by the state. This begs the question: who is entitled to live in community?

Not All Are Entitled
I am a liberal to my core; this means that I value the individual rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness while understanding that the government must protect the environment, provide for just distribution of wealth, and defend those whose rights are endangered by a tyranny of the majority. It is that last clause that causes me such consternation. In good conscience, I have to say that not all are entitled to live in our communities. Some present a clear and present danger. Some must be removed.

While working as a social worker, I came upon a client that we'’ll call "“JR."” Through no fault of his own, JR was born with diminished mental capacities. He had a diagnosis of mild mental retardation and had psychological difficulties. As one psychologist phrased it, he was "all id and no ego," that is to say that he had no ability to understand culpability for his criminal actions. JR was a sex predator. While on a 51-50 hold he stalked and raped at least two women that were under sedation. Later, when confronted, he responded, "they didn'’t say '‘no...'"

I believe in freedom from the government's intrusion into my life. I believe that I should be free from wire-taps without due process. I believe that the criminal justice system should be just and humane. I believe that war is rarely - if ever -– justified; that all wars need to be minimal in scope and subject to both the consent of the people and international law. Having said this, I also believe that JR should never be given the right to live with the general population. JR is incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, feeling remorse for his crimes, or understanding that he is victimizing others, and -– most importantly -– controlling himself. For the safety and wellbeing of the general population, he needed to be removed. The question is this: “Where should he be placed? The last I heard, he was at Wasco. This is hell on earth.

A Civilized Option?
That all cannot live in the greater society or that, some have committed crimes so heinous as to have forfeited their rights to live in that society justifies neither a death penalty nor its moral equivalent. The next person scheduled to die is not a Nobel Prize nominee. Neither is he a study in repentance. He is a case study for the death penalty: Clarence Ray Allen was convicted of ordering the murders of three individuals while he was incarcerated at Folsom State Prison for the crime of murder. Mr. Allen, a member of the Choctaw Nation, is currently 76 years old, suffers from diabetes, is blind, and uses a wheel chair. He is scheduled to die on 17 January 2006. The man that carried out the murders ordered by Mr. Allen, Mr. Billy Hamilton, is also on death row. Mr. Allen is a nefarious character. There is no doubt about this. But the question remains: how is justice served by the termination of this life?

I have always argued that the strongest argument against the death penalty is that it is irrevocable and solely vindictive. There is no attempt to regard the condemned as human or to treat them in a humane manner. I can hear the right wing beginning their bantering, speaking about lily-livered liberals that don'’t care about victims'’ rights. I will say this clearly and for the record: no victim has the right to blood. The convicted must be removed from the greater society and allowed to live out their days segregated from the general population. Their needs must be met but their right to live with others is forfeit.

Pandering to Bloodlust
The benchmark of a civilized society is that we are not all id and no ego. We have the ability to see beyond the need of vengeance and our desire for blood. The death penalty does little, if nothing, to address the causes of violence in our society. It does lend an air of credibility, however, to the idea of an eye for an eye. By condoning violence committed by the state, whether by warfare, unjust distribution of wealth and resources, or utilization of cruelty in our penal system, we become that which the law forswears. The bitterest irony is that we use the law and the mechanisms of the State to commit this act.

I don't expect that Mr. Allen'’s pending execution will draw the celebrity that surrounded the execution of Mr. Williams. And I have to ask, what good does the termination of this life do that cannot be accomplished in so many other ways? It is time to impose a moratorium on executions in this state and to put an end to this barberous practice.

_____ _______________ _____

Writing on January 14, 2006 - The Governor of California has announed that this execution will proceed as planned. The link to Reuters is here. And my question still stands: what is gained for the termination of this life. I fear when our penal system becomes a means of castigation rather than reform. It is curious that the word penitentiary derives from the word penitence, a place where a soul found a means to repent and to be restored to community. The origin of the idea was one of restoring, not destroying life. To mete out punishment is to harden a criminal and steel his or her resolve to continue a criminal. I do not belive that all can be reformed, for various reasons (some physiological, others moral). And I stand by my statement, not all are capable of life in the greater community. There must be a human system to address the people that choose not to accept the bounds of law. But having said that I must object that equally it is immoral for the State to take life.
-tDF

We Are None of Us Innocent

The State of California has executed Stanley “Tookie” Williams: We have all become partners to his death. Our state has legalized the execution of criminals for capital crimes. The governor has acted in the name of the people, as have the courts and the penal system. Mr. Williams was put to death in our name. We are all partners in his death; we are all responsible.

A Cynical Political Gesture?
Gov. Schwarzenegger convened a hearing to consider clemency. Predictably, it was denied. I do not know if the governor was sincere in his actions or indulging in high drama with the aim of justifying his decision to allow the execution to proceed. At worst, having convened a hearing to consider arguments when a conclusion is predetermined is cynical and despicable. I hope that this is not the case. I do not know. The comments made by the governor seemed very scripted: “Had he apologized…” As if words of contrition are of greater value than acts of repentance.

The governor had the most convenient of covers: it is the law of the land. This was invoked: the governor that made his election on the claim that he would reform how California did business claimed to be without recourse as he enforced the mandate of the court. There is something disingenuous here. But this is not the central issue. It is only dressing on the stage on which this danse macabre was performed.

The Letter and Intent of the Law
I am not a legal scholar and make no pretense in that direction. What I offer are my thoughts. It seems to me that the death penalty is intended only as retribution. There is no redemptive value in it. To argue that it is the right of the families of the victims to see the perpetrator tortured and executed is to pander to our most base instincts. It is to make their suffering the justification for the deprivation of life. I do not believe that this is the issue: an eye for an eye is what stands at the root of this thing. The quote is attributed to Gandhi: an eye for an eye leaves all of us blind.

The intent of the legal system is to safeguard justice. Justice is not the same as retribution. Indeed, retribution should have no part of justice. To be just is to place a fair value on the rights and lives of all, even those that are the least of us; it seems to me it has as its goal the redemption of human life rather than its destruction. To ritualize the sacrifice of life on the altar of retribution and primitive justice is to deny what could be. Perhaps most importantly, it is irreversible and irrevocable. We are only able to play God to a given degree. Our finitude does not allow us to restore time or life to the erroneously condemned.

The Mark of Cain
All murder is fratricide. We are all our brothers’ keepers. We are all charged with the welfare of all humanity. That is an onerous charge and a daunting responsibility. The State executes a convicted felon. It does so in our name and, presumably, by our consent. There is not a one of us that does not bear the mark of Cain. Stanley Williams was no different.

The Crips is a murderous organization. I was a pastor is South Central Los Angeles for several years. I saw firsthand the violence and the mayhem that gangs leave in their wake. If Williams was innocent of the crime for which he was condemned and executed it was a miscarriage of justice. But to presume that a man who is responsible for the founding of a criminal organization that racked a community with terror, spilling blood and causing mayhem is not guilty of capital crimes is to ignore the reality created. I am a liberal. I wear that label proudly. I must say, however, that the excuse that gangs are victims of oppression is ludicrous. These are thugs, nothing more. Can a thug repent? Certainly. Does that repentance ameliorate responsibility for crimes committed in the past? Certainly not. Does this justify the intentional and systematic extermination of a life in the name of justice? No. And we are marked as truly as was Mr. Williams.

Repentance
The killing needs to stop. AB1121 is a bill pending in the California legislature. It calls a hiatus through January 1, 2009 of executions in the state. This is not a solution. This is a step in the right direction. The bill calls for a review of procedures and application of the death penalty. It is a travesty of justice, in my mind, as this bill works its way through the legislature that dates are being set for still more executions, still more blood being spilt, still more lives snuffed out to satisfy our sense of entitlement for the blood of those who’ve spilt blood.

And the our brothers’ blood cries to God from the ground. And we all stand guilty before Life Itself, bearing the blood of the guilty mingled with the innocent on our hands.

A Long Week Has Come to Its End.

It has been an intense week. I am tired and sitting at my desk in my classroom. I am carpooling this week, owing to the death of yet another car. I have come to a point of thinking it is time to buy a more reliable car. I have to admit that I resent having a car. SL put it neatly: “it’s a chunk of metal that the society has made necessary that I resent having to have.” Here, here, SL. You know how I feel about cars.

My Faith in My Fellow Men and Women
I am amazed how my daughter A can make any situation the occasion for a party. The child can simply take any situation and make it fun. She took what, for me, could have been a serious downer and made it her opportunity to entertain. A has a wonderful sense of humor and can see what is really important. She told me she had a great time because she was spending it with her dad. What a kid.

While waiting for my ride, no fewer than eight people pulled over to help us. I was amazed at the response to seeing the two of us waiting on the car for a ride. I have seen people pulled over. I have driven past them, thinking that I should have done something. I did not expect anybody to stop. Eight cars did. One pulled out a flashlight. One wanted to help with a tow. One offered a ride – yes a ride – to Ventura. These were people that I did not know. They had nothing to gain for helping me. I am so impressed. There are good people out there.

The Games Kids Play
I have had to make several calls this week. The week started off with a bang. Several kids were in performance mode, just pushing the envelope. My answer to this is not to get mad; I call the families. I have spoken with several parents this week. One kid came into class telling me how her father wanted to hang up on me. Another told me that I had no life. In reality, the calls to homes take about five to ten minutes of my day. I find that I get parental support by keeping them in the loop. I also call when kids are doing well. The kids forget about that. I suppose the reason that I went into teaching is that I have no life and hate kids. Just ask them, or at least the ones that have been discipline problems.

I guess that the real issue for me is that we have come to expect to little from our kids. We allow them to live lives without consequences and shelter them from the logical outcomes of their choices. We let them be rude. We let them do the least possible and call that progress. I am not suggesting that we adopt a draconian system of punishment. I am suggesting that accountability and pushing an agenda of excellence is a good thing, I don’t reward kids for meeting my minimal expectations. I reward kids when they go beyond them.

Today we are working on following instructions. I am giving very clearly defined instructions to my English class. They are having to follow procedure clearly. Consequences are clearly defined and quickly administered. So are rewards for following through. It is a hard lesson to learn. The idea is that work will demand that kids do what is expected. After all, employers are giving the kids money for their money. They have a right to expect excellence not excuses.

Saturday Work School
Tomorrow is Saturday Work School. I get to baby-sit the kids that have missed the mark. There are almost thirty kids on this list for this weekend. My bet is that only fifteen or so will show up. They are expected to do trash duty and then school work. The real issue is that they have fouled up in some manner. Tardies are epidemic here. I am a hardnose on this issue: If I am to begin on time the kids need to be here on time. That is the rule. Lots of kids have other issues: leaving campus without appropriate permission (BHS is a very open campus).

Oh well… time to go. More later.

Memories in the Mist

Often, the past lurks behind a shroud of indistinct implication; not all memories are crystalline. Some, if not most, are shrouded in uncertainty. Many dwell in the deep, dark, and moist places of the subconscious where they remain as notes that resonate but never clearly sing: Sympathetic vibrations of an unsettling past. My memories were jarred open this evening as I discovered a document that was like a Pandora’s box; full of my demons and shut too quickly, trapping hope in the darkness.

Exorcism

The first step in an exorcism is to name the demon. This allows the demon to be identified and recognized. The act of naming is as old as Adam in the garden granting identity to the created order. Too many of my demons remain anonymous. Perhaps it is time to name them, without regard for their baptismal appellatives.

I was looking for a wedding service for Denise, one of my students. She is working on a project for her Marriage and Family course. I told her that I had copies of the service found in the Lutheran Book of Worship and would be happy to copy the service for her. I was looking through zip disks stored for years and stumbled upon a document dated 8 August 2000. I was in therapy at that time. This was my first diagnostic reflection. I read the document, following a period of attempting to recall the password with which I had protected the document. An excerpt follows:

“I have a memory – though I have come to doubt whether or not it happened – of my grandfather, my father and me standing across the street from my grandfather’s barbershop. There we stood, under the quote from Cicero’s Orations: ‘He who violates his oath profanes the divinity of faith itself.’ I recall him telling me that this should be my legacy. He died shortly thereafter. I hope that this memory is real: it is one of the few good memories of my father and of my grandfather that I have.

“What frightens me the most about this is that I can ‘sense’ that this is an older pattern that has been around for years and was simply dismissed as being absent-minded (which I truly am). Times when I was certain that I had done something and found that it had not been completed or, at times, even begun testify to the endurance of this issue.

“I am not a deliberately dishonest person; quite to the contrary, I endeavor to be punctiliously honest. I know the difference between the truth and a lie; the problem is that I seem to have forgotten where the truth lay.”

This is a difficult passage for me. So much of my memory is gone. All I have are shades that move in shadows, implying and resonating never explicit or clear.

“This is the most difficult to attach a trigger to. The damning part of this is that I cannot trust my memory to fairly report how and when this happens. I can only assume from the accusations of dishonesty that this has happened. Issues about which I have been accused of lying to cover myself are issues that I am certain I have done, conversations that I am certain have happened. I can recall details of these conversations, how and when. But it seems now that they never existed. I understand how this could be seen as a lack of integrity. This is the most troubling of all for me.”

It is not just short-term memory. There is more, so much more.

An Appearance of Dishonesty

I strive to be an honest man. I know that I fail, more often than I care to admit to at times. A lie is an intentional attempt to conceal the truth. It is either done by modifying the facts, withholding information, allowing a deception to take place to give an impression that is at variance with the truth. Facts are ideal tools of the lie. Facts are not the truth, but they are good signposts to use to find the truth. I often lose myself in a distortion of the facts. I remember things that were never so. I have no memory of things that I was known to have said. This is part of my motivation with this blog, to bear witness to my life and serve as intentional memory.

At times, it seems to me that I wish to live in a glorious past that never was. There is much that I recall that objectively I know not to have happened. The difficulty is that I often find myself convinced of the veracity of an event or, better stated, the accounting of an event. It is almost as if I will not, cannot, accept the reality and will substitute my own version. Mark this well, this is not an intention. I am often not aware when it happens. I would like to believe that it is happening less than before. I do not know that to be true.

Truth?

There is so much that I have suppressed. I have a troubled childhood. I have a memory of seeing several jars with fetuses in them. My father had a macabre sense about him. There were jars with body parts – I had a human heart as a science fair project, I kept it in my bedroom for years as if this were a normal thing. The child had died at around five years of age. My father obtained the organ for me from pathology. Given this fact, the jars with fetuses is not far from credible. I remember seeing them in a closet, lined up neatly next to the Christmas tree ornaments. Somewhere along the line, they became the stillborn brothers that preceded me into this life and into death. The story about the heart is objectively true. The story about the fetuses is based in fact (they did exist in jars in a closet), but whether they were my stillborn siblings remains an issue of doubt. I sensed that they were and they scared me. The fear was real. The memory flawed.

I wonder how much of my memory is lost and comes back as a shade in the night to haunt the current moment. I try to live in the moment, but they anonymous cries in the dark still haunt me.

Unnamed Anxiety

There are times when a sense memory triggers anxiety. I have learned that this happens and am becoming better at addressing the events that follow in sequence. I know the rush of adrenaline, the tightening of my gut, the feeling that I am alive. I am not always aware of what the story behind the sense memory is. Perhaps it no longer matters. Night-blooming jasmine is one. I love the smell of Jasmine. I hate the smell of Jasmine for what it portends. I can recall, vividly and viscerally, the fights that my parents had when I smell this. I know that I become angry when I smell it. This is an example of a sense memory. Something – something sensed without words to explicate the metaphor – triggers a response and I begin to feel anew.

Feelings scare me. They scare me because they so quickly become destructive. And I’d rather be numb than feeding my adrenaline addiction anew. But the memories persist in the shadows and I am dumb to speak their names…

So Damn Serious

I have been pretty serious of late... time for some levity. Here are the results of several blog quizzes that I took for fun. Enjoy! Links are provided for your entertainment.

What Color is my blog?

What's the Color of Your Blog Personality? Quiz at About Web logs and...

My Blog Personality's True Color Is... RED It's all about passion, heat, and intensity. I take pride in my strengths and I learn to deal with my weaknesses. I like to blog about things that really matter to me.

Who'd have thunk it? I guessed blue.

My blogging personality?

I took the Blogging Personality Quiz at About Web logs and I am...

The Writer
Words captivate me. And, I like to capture words. Blogging enables me to write often. It also provides a place for me to share what I write with a reading public. I can be funny, inspiring, intelligent, cynical, or morbid. It doesn't matter what I write about in my blog. It only matters that I write.

Guilty, as charged.

Onto the Salacious Stuff...


You have a mysterious kiss. Your partner never
knows what you're going to come up with next;
this creates great excitement and arousal never
knowing what to expect. And it's sure to end
in a kiss as great as your mystery.


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Your Seduction Style: Sweet Talker

Your seduction technique can be summed up with "charm" You know that if you have the chance to talk to someone... Well, you won't be talking for long! ;-) You're great at telling potential lovers what they want to hear. Partially, because you're a great reflective listener and good at complementing. The other part of your formula? Focusing your conversation completely on the other person. Your "sweet talking" ways have taken you far in romance - and in life. You can finess your way through any difficult situation, with a smile on your face. Speeding tickets, job interviews... bring it on! You truly live a *charmed life*

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

what sexual things do you're friends think about you? LiveJournal Username Age Favorite ice cream Favorite season SummerSpringWinterFallWhat are seasons? Thinks you're ass is tight: Wants to lick hot chocolate off you're body: Wonders how good you are in bed: Wishes you would screw him/her on the spot: Is romatically in love with you: Wishes you were gay so he/she could love you better: Hopes you'll take him/her to great heights (wink wink nudge nudge): Day dreams about having sex with you 24/7: Fun Quizzes by Molly at BlogQuiz.Net

Free Daily Horoscopes at DailyHoroscopes.Biz

Would that it were so! It is good to know that I could pass a citizenship test.

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 8 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

Amazing what it means to have my birthday:

Your Birthdate: May 27

You are a spiritual soul - a person who tries to find meaning in everything. You spend a good amount of time meditating, trying to figure out life. Helping others is also important to you. You enjoy social activities with that goal. You are very generous and giving. Yet you expect very little in return. Your strength: Getting along with anyone and everyone Your weakness: Needing a good amount of downtime to recharge Your power color: Cobalt blue Your power symbol: Dove Your power month: September

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Politcally?


Socialist - You believe the free market can be
beneficial, but that a large and powerful state
is necessary to redistribute the wealth of the
top classes to those of the bottom. You also
think that basic utilities and trasportation
should be publicly owned. Your historical role
model is Eugene Debs.


Which political sterotype are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Have a good week... tDF.

Moral Consensus?

George Carlin was on HBO last night. He was doing what he does best; making pithy but sardonic comments about various institutions. Pro-lifers were on his radar screen. He observed that since most fertilized eggs are washed away in a woman’s menses that women should, by the logic of the pro-life movement, be locked up as serial killers.

Reductio ad Absurdum

Apagogic argument makes for good comedy. It is part of political discourse, sadly passing for reason more often than is comfortable or good for the health of the American Republic. It does not make for good theology. Carlin’s rant eventually leads to a ridicule of religion. Now let me completely honest. I no longer consider myself to be a part of the Church. Nevertheless, though I have separated myself from the Church, I have respect for Christian theology. The question that Carlin, and many secular critics of the church miss, is this: what is the will of God?

Accept for a moment – just for the sake of honest argument – the premise that all life originates in God and that the continual expression of human life is the will of God. Moreover, each life is of inestimable value to this God. The conclusion to any argument that begins with this premise is that all life is valued and that all life is born of the will of God. This belief impacts suggests that the worth of life supersedes the will to abort an unborn life. If all life is born of the will of God, it is an untenable choice to terminate willingly a human life, whether by warfare, the death penalty, privation, or abortion. The will of God is pro-life, given the premise suggested above.

The difficulty, as I see it, is that we do not live in a society that allows the premise that human life is of inestimable value. Removing the metaphysics from the discussion does not change the trajectory of the argument: if the preservation of human life is the highest good then warfare, capitalism, abortion, inequitable distribution of wealth must be considered inconsistent with that position. This works well in an argument that presupposes an ethical absolute. However, how do we negotiate a middle case? Consider the debate surrounding stem cells.

In Life It Is Rare to Encounter Two Equally Valid Viewpoints

I make no claims to grasp the arcane scientific details of research into therapies that require the use of stem cells. I will assume that there is a reasonable likelihood that this research may yield a therapy to address certain diseases and thus preserve human life. The difficulty is that stem cells must be harvested from fetuses. Some life lives, other lives are terminated. Who decides the value of each? Competing expressions of the good raise difficult questions that absolute dicta cannot adequately address.

I think that the solution to this problem is to consider that there are no absolute expressions of truth. All expressions of truth fall short of that which they seek to express. As such, they must be parsed to find how competing values born of the same concern for human life can be weighed. I am not always convinced that the mother’s life is the ultimate value in consideration of whether an abortion should be performed. I am equally not convinced that every life should be given the same weight. I do know that a rule of proximity is a slippery slope.

Slip-slidin’ Away

The idea of a slippery slope suggests a causal argument that presumes a chain of events that lead to an undesirable outcome. It may or may not be a valid argument. The key is the question of causality. To say that proximate relationship is to be most highly valued suggests that human life is an individual concern and that the individual is the final arbitrator of the good. I must admit that I am motivated by proximate concerns. My daughters are the most important people in the world to me. God help anybody that I perceive to be doing harm to them. I would not hesitate to take any step that I deem necessary to protect them. They are the people in the world that are closest to me. But, and that conjunction is portentous indeed, their wellbeing may not always be consistent with the wellbeing of humanity.

This is the contradiction that must be considered: to me my children are the highest value. Were I to face the option of preserving their lives at the cost of several other lives to me the question would be clear. I would act for them. Would not the family members of those whose lives were lost also be entitled to the same argument of individual proximity?

What Happened to The Will of God?

The idea of God’s will seems to me to have been a moral arbitrator that divided between the needs of the individual and the needs of the community. It was the fulcrum upon which the balance could be struck by providing absolute and elastic dicta that would address the needs of both while retaining an ability to be redescribed in terms that met the needs of the cultural reality. In a secular society that has proudly done away with such metaphysics as God the need remains for an agreed upon fulcrum that allows individuals and communities to leverage ethical discourse.

Apagogic discourse works for George Carlin. It makes for good satire and allows a sardonic wit to force thought. And I wonder whether this does not beg the question of a tertium non datur, or the law of the excluded middle that addresses such moral disjunctions. But this is probably best debated by minds more clearly focused than mine.

At any rate, I remain simply a fool…

New Stuff...

There are times that I am amazed at the possibilities... This is one of them. I have been playing - again - with my blog. I keep thinking that the next thing that I need to do is to move beyond doctoring the standard templates and creating my own with Dreamweaver. That may be a bit off and in the future; for now I am content to play with toys. The most recent toy is RSS.

Really Simple Syndication

I have set up two systems on my blog for a direct feed. At first this strikes me as being the nadir of hubris: who would want to have my blog delivered to their cyber-doorstep? Well, you maybe. Maybe not. But the opportunity is there. I have set up a couple of buttons on the bottom of the page to arrange for said delivery. If you really crave an email, you can enter your addy into the box and click on the button that allows tDF to be delivered to you at the speed of light. Now it occurs to me that I may not have anything that significant to say. But, really, that is not for me to say. You have the choice and that is what is important.

You would think I would learn how to smile when I have my picture taken... Oh well. Not in this image, I fear. I guess that the great joy of having a blog is to indulge in some harmless hubris. I can play with toys that, used properly, could be powerful tools. I can manipulate a technology that I could not even imagine when I was a kid back in the late '60's and into the '70's. Hard for me to believe that I am that old. I have kids in my classes that were born in 1990 and later. I am a child born in the fifties, and came of age in the mid-seventies. I have a faint recollection of a super-computer that predicted Johnson's election against Barry Goldwater. The computer that landed the Apollo on the moon was much less powerful than the calculators that we use in class.

Dictionary

You can now double click any word in the text of tDF and be taken to a link that will define that word. Now you can see just how poorly I employ the richness of the English language. You can click on words and see if I have misused them. Really, this is born of a love of the language. I can browse through dictionaries for hours happily. I love to play with language and occasionally can do so with some skill. I do try to reward my readers with some clever double entendre or allusion on occasion. When in doubt, quote Greek.

Same Time Last Year

I have taken to pasting links on the title of my postings to last year's posts. This is a personal history for me. It is a chance to see what I was about then. It is a way to take stock. It is a source of perverse satisfaction for you, Gentle Reader, in knowing that no matter how messed up you are that I am even more fucked up that you! An encouraging thought, that!

Coming up on 200 posts. How shall we commemorate this occasion? My geotracking has indicated that this little blog has been read at least once in every continent of the planet. That is a freaky thought for me. I have come to realize that I have a community that is now world-wide. No, I am not in touch with all of the nearly 5000 people that have accessed this blog in the past year, but I am amazed that so many of you have happened by. I hope that some of you choose to return and share in my life, my laughter, my searching for love.

Live, Laugh, Love...
-tDF

Oτι ο θεος αγαπη εστιν

I’ve been thinking about life and love again… always a fertile topic for me. It seems that I have never really come to grips with the reality of the finitude of relationships. I have always longed for that passionate and eternal love which seems to be, at best, a figment of my imagination, unrequited at that. Ah love; you are such a fickle mistress. Why, my dear, have you not deigned to bless me with your bliss?

My Credo, For Lack of Better Terms

I still believe in love. That is it. There is nothing difficult to grasp or to parse here. I still believe in love. Belief and understanding are such different things. At one time I thought I would love and be loved in return. Now I am finding that love remains elusive. I do not refer only to sexual or romantic love, to ερός or φιλος but to “Love Itself.” I have always been something of a mystic. Even my email handles have the word worked into the titles. The arch-mystic of the NT speaks to my heart’s sensibilities and in these words I find an intimation of the divine:

Ο μη αγαπων ουκ έγνω τον θεον, οτι ο θεος αγαπη εστιν
(1 Jn 4.8)

It is the idea if active and passive voice, the loving and being loved, of giving and receiving that resonates with the deepest chords of my being.

Symbiosis

The idea of a shared life comes to mind. There is an intimate relationship implied in the mythology in Genesis between the divine and the mundane as earth and air dance to create life. It seems to be that the physical act of love is a reenactment of the dance of creation: an empty vessel is filled and a new life is created. Like the rainstorms that pagan mythology sees as the Sky God making love to the Earth Mother, so in this oneness – however fleeting – life is renewed.

I am a casehardened believer in the power of love.

I suppose that all love assumes a triad, to paraphrase St. Augustine: the love, the lover and the beloved. But what of “Love Itself”?

Love Itself

I have moved away from the NT mythology of the incarnate Christ. I find great beauty and power in that myth. The beauty of the divine λογος becoming flesh to establish a remaining-place with us is powerful indeed. It bespeaks a love supreme that reaches beyond the self to find its fulfillment in the other. Selfless to find self, a paradox in an intimate embrace that seeks only the other. I used to believe that I could love that way.

Whether I say God, Christ or Love Itself, I am speaking of the same thing: a love that creates, sustains, and gives hope for the future. I do not know this love, but I do believe in its power to transform even a heart as careworn and broken as mine.

The Penultimate Facing the Eternal

I am finite, made of dust that for a moment dances in the wind. My ability to love is limited, as I grasp and still find myself clinging to myself, afraid to lose myself in the Wholly Other. My lovers and friends have all gone away. All that I have is my soul. It is all that I am, have been, or can be. It is my sum and total, and yet is nothing unless given away to another that can bring it into a place where it is born anew.

And still, I believe in love…

Sunday... Ah, Sunday

It is difficult to believe that it is Sunday. I have enjoyed a hiatus from teaching, from work in general. It was the week of Thanksgiving. I did nothing. Well, not quite. I cooked. I played guitar and piano. I chorded out a new song (one that is almost too cliche for my taste) and arranged "Fade Away" for piano. It was a nice break, but I am preparing for work anew.

Preparing Lesson Plans

I am looking for simple algebraic equations that can be used with my special ed math class that (a) contextualize practice with algebra and (b) are within their realm of capability. I found a neat example that uses simple algebra to calculate the speed of a moving car based on the surface and the length of the skid mark. I am toying with the idea of doing a thematic unit on cars in motion. To do it justice, I will have to do more than the simple math. I need some film and other resources. I can call them the "Crime Lab" or some such moniker.


A Long Shower... This Is the BEST of Things!

I just took an obscenely long shower. I soaked in the shower for at least 45 minutes. I did stretches to loosen muscles, but mostly just soaked. What luxury! What decadence. I recall not too long ago when we were in the grips of a drought: a shower was five minutes max. This began many of my habits of water conservation. Today they went down the drain, literally! I soaked, relaxed, changed into comfy clothes and thought more about my lesson plans. I should do dishes, but they can wait a bit. I need to cook some steak before it goes bad. I live in a world of abundance. It is when I consider that I have the luxury of throwing food out that I realize that I am fortunate beyond measure. I do not live a life of comparative luxury. I really live rather simply. But it is all relative: in comparison with the rest of the world I have more than can be imagined.

Relationships... Never an Unfamiliar Topic for the Fool

I am in a relationship that I believe is moving too quickly for my comfort. It is my fault. I let myself get swept into things and then realize that I am moving more quickly than I consider to be prudent. I am not certain what I should do. As always, I find that if I assert what I should have asserted at the offset I run the risk of hurting somebody. If not, I run greater risks. I hate to hurt people. Sometimes I allow myself to become passive in relationships as a result of this. Not really certain what to do. I need to mull this one over. I like CN. She is a musician and plays beautiful violin. But there are some other issues; the greatest of which is that I just don't feel passion there. I have been a passion junkie in the past: I love hot sex and all of the drama and excess that goes with it. I am not certain that this is healthy, but it feels as if I have exchanged a life of gourmet dining for a bologna sandwich. That may not be the best metaphor, but it comes close to the mark.

It is Sunday... best to enjoy the quiet and the day. More later.
-tDF

Happy Turkey Day...

Anybody that knows me also knows that I have an aversion to holidays. I have a long-standing hatred of Christmas (as a commercial event), Birthdays (mine included, perhaps especially so), and other events that the mavens of commercialism have decreed to be dates to spend that they may profit. No, it is not the idea of a holiday that disturbs me, it is the profit making motive that disturbs me. I am a generous person. I give to my friends. But I will not be told when and how to do so.

Thanksgiving Daze

Am I the only one that is struck by the irony of beginning the Christmas shopping season the day after Thanksgiving? I think not. Still, there is a bitterness when we - the most consumerist nation on the planet - take a moment to recall a mythology of poverty and privation of our foreparents and then go on a spending spree that makes the people at Citibank rich and leaves us poor in spirit. Call me a cynic. Call me Scrooge. Call me honest. Diogenes would be proud, well, that might be a stretch.

I am cooking the bird this holiday - and having great fun doing it (soaking that sucker in a lemon/bayleaf brine, making homemade cranberry sauce... the whole works; I started Tuesday night... Thursday we will eat). Why? I know my history better than most. The Pilgrims were undocumented aliens that were one step from starvation when the indigenous people shared food with their uninvited visitors. Turkey was not even on the menu. Venison was. Still, I don't want to kill Bambi's mother to celebrate what I choose to observe. As you can see, I have no problem playing with the mythology. I am willing to eat the bird, largely because I like turkey and it gives me an excuse to spend a day doing something I love: cooking for people that I love.

And therein lies what I am celebrating.

I could give a damn about the Pilgrims. This is not my mythology. I do care about generosity. I do care about sharing. I do care about taking time to take honest stock of myself and what I value.

The Fool's Top Ten List of Reasons to be Thankful

10. Music
9. Doing work that I love
8. Friends
7. Life itself
6. Realizing that we are all part of one common life
5. Really Good Sex (yeah, let's be honest, we all love the big "O")
4. Poetry
3. Time with my kids
2. Seeing them grow into beautiful and powerful women that are strong, loving and wise
1. The sunrise

Holidays and Holly Daze

Again, I will steadfastly refuse to buy because the culture says that I should. Again, I will try to be true to my vision of what is good and generous. Again, I will fall short but will continue trying to be the man that I know is within me. Again, I will look at the bird and recall that even this life that was cut short for mine is a connection. I will give thanks in my spirit for the spirit of the animal whose flesh I eat and try anew to live in a similar spirit of generosity. Who knows... one day we just might prevail, not by force of arms but by the courage of generosity that reaches past the definitions of friends and foes to see that we are all one.

Besides, I get to cook and am diggin' on the idea of doing this with the greater community. Who knows... it could be like the 100th monkey, we do the same thing, but for different reasons and a change occurs. Hey, it could happen.

And for that I am thankful.

- tDF

__________

A small update...

Dinner was smashing. I served a brined turkey (lemon and laurel, with cinnamon and cloves), a homemade cranberry/citrus dipping sauce, brussel sprouts (blanched with butter and seasonings), and garlic mashed potatoes. It was good. I made "Eggs in Purgatory" for breakie the next day (used the mashed potatoes to make potato pancakes, served on marinera and topped with a fried egg, sprinkled with parmesan cheese). I've been enjoying the moistest leftover bird for the past few days. I love to cook for friends. I will look forward to doing the same this weekend for my daughter. Life is good. Hoping yours is as well! -tDF

Whose Intelligent Designer is Authoritative?

The curious thing about teaching in special education is that you are often called upon to teach outside of your discipline. A special educator is called upon to be an inspired generalist rather than a specialist. As a result of this, I have found myself teaching science classes (earth science and life science). I admit that my command of the sciences is cursory at best. I felt a need to do research. This brought me in contact with “intelligent design.”

Religion v. Science Redux

I am a believer in truth. I also believe that there are several means by which truth may be examined and, hopefully, described once discovered. The vocabulary is not the same, nor is the perspective. Truth, in any universal sense, is greater than perspective and vocabulary. Indeed, it can only be described in similes or metaphors, paradoxes, and hypothetical. The nature of a universal truth is its transcendence and therefore its ineffability.

Put simply – perhaps too simply – science concerns itself with what and how, religion with who and why. Science is predicated upon a rigorous method that reflects the philosophical tenets of the Enlightenment. It is a method predicated upon exclusion that seeks, by process of elimination, to reduce empirical observation to natural truth: a process of distillation. It is the sine qua non of natural observation. This method may bring the observer to the brink of the metaphysical but does not make claims in that direction. Indeed, its primary concerns are understanding; the natural and devising a grammar by which the natural may be described in an orderly manner. This is not to impose order, simply to utilize the human need of order to explain and understand that which may have no a priori organizational schema.

Religion is concerned with ultimate truth and therefore must speak in figurative terms. The canon of truth is quite different from the objectivity sought in scientific inquiry. Theology seeks to know who (or what) creates and orders the cosmos and asks why this thing was accomplished. What would motivate a creative agent to create? This is properly not the domain of science. This is theology. Theology is a slippery area of intellectual endeavor. It concerns itself with dogma and must concede that while a particular creed or confession may make an absolute truth-claim and that it is subject to the ratification of faith. Indeed, if “I” understand that ultimate truth has been communicated then how, in good conscience can “I” place lesser truth on the same level? It cannot be done. I understand the claims of fundamentalists. I do not support them.

This differentiation troubles me when I consider the question of intelligent design. Speaking as a trained theologian, I am troubled that by the presumption of a “god unknown” that creates per a design that is presupposed to be a priori. It is the perception of design that drives the deity. This is the realm of natural observation. Any design is a creation of the observer, not of the event. To impose a design on a god, known or otherwise, is to have made a creedal statement that supposes the observers’ understanding of nature to be equivalent to divine revelation. This is troubling to me insofar as it represents the apotheosis of finite vision and makes scientific observation the stuff of myth.

Whose Intelligent Designer Should I Wear This Season?

The presumption of order is just that: a presumption that may or may not stand when placed in the light of honest inquiry. Is the observation of a part truly indicative of the whole? That a pattern appears to exist in a sample may or may not imply a design. Consider random numbers: patterns may be extrapolated in a random distribution of integers. This speaks to the need of the observer to have order rather than the supposed intention of the distribution, to say nothing of the nature of a great and transcendent distributor.

I have to ask the question: who is the intelligent designer stands behind the patterns that defy random distribution or accident? Is this the Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Druid, Aztec, Sikh, Hindu, or [fill in any religious expression that you may desire] designer or designers whose mythology is validated by cosmic plan? Moreover, why is it presumed that science, specifically evolution, is antithetical to faith?

There is always some wag that wants to point to the Hebrew “Yom” to represent a day or an epoch. I will say nothing of the philological howler that this constitutes. I will point to the function of myth and the existence of not one, but two distinctly different creation myths in the Hebrew Bible. Read the first three chapters of Genesis. There are two narrations. The P account (Genesis 1) and the Y account (Genesis 2-3). They each bring a differing theological agenda: P seeks to present God as the priest that stands above creation, speaking creation into being by the agency of the divine word: God proclaims and that which is not becomes that which is. This is reflected in the prologue to St. John’s Gospel. The Y account speaks of a God that gets dirty; molding the mud into a body then inspires and animates the clay into being. This is a God that exists within creation. They stand in juxtaposition to each other to say that one myth is not primary. And this does not even regard mythology whose origin stands apart from the soil of Palestine.

Differing Compacts of Truth

Evolution is clearly observable in the form of Natural Selection. This may or may not imply the existence of an intelligent designer (to borrow that rather flawed term). As an educator in the public schools, I am troubled by the imposition of flawed religious language cloaked in a masquerade, disguised as science. If I value my religious convictions I should speak them clearly without fear, trusting that the truth will withstand whatever criticism and scrutiny to which it will be subject. Truth will stand.

Intelligent Design is bad theology. I am not expert enough to criticize it as science, though I suspect that my friends whose method requires a purely empirical critique will come to a similar conclusion. If we seek truth, let us do so boldly and honestly. If we seek to impose an agenda that is built upon the ignorant assumptions of those whose vision of truth is limited by the boundaries of their prejudice we do harm to the truth: let us, in the name of truth, oppose this and bring it to an end. Science and theology both seek truth; one in nature the other in the divine. Both are uniquely human endeavors and are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps a bit of intelligence in the understanding of faith is what is called for?

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Christ and The United Methodist Church

I have rather intentionally avoided – at least recently – discussing issues of faith. I feel as if I have set aside my right to be a critic of the church. When I left it for personal reasons, I also left behind my role as loving critic. I have discussed faith. I have discussed moral issues while referring to the church. I have, of course, made comments about the so called “Christian right” and wondered aloud why there is not a vocal “Christian left.” I have remained largely silent on internal issues of the church; I have done so until today.

Ordination and Consent

I was the Washington Post and came across an article about a recent decision by the United Methodist Church to defrock an openly lesbian minister. I find this very disturbing. I am not an expert in Methodist polity; indeed the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America – the denomination to which I belonged – embraces a more congregational polity than the UMC. I have to ask some basic questions about the nature of ordination and baptism, the nature of the public office of the word and sacrament, and the foreknowledge that the ordinators possessed when the Rev’d Ms. Irene Stroud took her vows.

The article that appeared in the November first edition of the Washington Post indicated that the UMC had instituted a policy of benign ignorance and passive ascent. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” may have been a valid interim paradigm for the military but it should never have become ecclesiastical policy. The central value of any expression of the church is kerygmatic: we proclaim the truth that brings the promise of freedom. Intrinsic to a policy of obfuscation is a lie; behind every lie is an attempt to conceal the truth, behind that is the undoing of any organization dedicated of a liberating truth. More than the issue of revelation is the question of what was known when hands were laid upon Ms. Stroud’s head and the office of the keys was commended to her care.

The problem is that no one is without sin. There are no pure pastors, priests, rabbis or imams. Thus, it is not a question of purity but of grace, that drives ordination. The pastor is a sacrament to the community. He or she is a means of grace. Like bread and wine, or water, this person becomes the means through which a community will learn to experience the reality of a loving and forgiving God. This is the ideal Christian understanding of the pastoral ministry. No one is sinless at ordination. All are sinners. And what is more, despite the sin, the community sets this person aside – with full knowledge of human shortcomings – knowing that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. It is the great paradox of the cross, the Christian church asserts, that it is in this weakness that the power and glory of God is revealed.

Did they know that Ms. Stroud was lesbian? Apparently so. Did they ask her to be party to a sin of omission? Again, apparently so. Did they require her to commit to a celibate lifestyle or to live in a monogamous and covenantal relationship? The article does not ask or answer that query. Was she ordained and with her vows of fidelity to the teaching of the church was there an implicit agreement that she would neither tell nor imply her sexual preference and living arrangements? That may be a central issue. Nevertheless, this is not the only issue. There is also the question of church order.

Polity, Politics, and the People of God

When I was active in the Church, I had to live with the reality that my life was held to closer scrutiny than those of my parishioners. This is the nature of pastoral ministry. There is some legitimacy in this. A pastor leads by example, however flawed. But this is a double-edged sword. The pastor is not only accountable to the spiritual needs of her flock, but to the order of the church of which she is a member. He can do nothing to compromise the integrity of the body. Should Ms. Stroud have spoken about her sexuality? No, she should not have. Should she have been placed in that position? Absolutely not. Nevertheless, she was and appears to have accepted this limitation freely and without coercion. There are times that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.

Polity is difficult. That balance allows the church to exist in the world. It is the art of ordering an ideal community in the context of real conflict and political intrigue. The truth of pastoral ministry is this: we take vows not only to preach and teach, but also to support the institutions of the earthly church. There are ways to effect change. To violate a covenant is not one of them.

This is not a missive in support of the right wing or a “conservative” agenda in the church, using that term advisedly. To have singled out a gay or lesbian pastor that was ordained in full knowledge of that person’s sexual orientation for removal from the clergy roster while supporting the actions of a pastor guilty of exclusion is reprehensible. This is the politics of power that uses inclusion and exclusion as tools of a political agenda. This is to be challenged and opposed with blood, bone and marrow.

Again, I must reiterate that I am in no way an expert on the polity of the UMC. I speak as one that knows the Christian Church and is appalled at both the actions of Pastor Stroud and the ecclesiastical court that removed her. A pastor does not speak for him or herself. The pastor’s actions are taken as those of the congregation. A denomination does not embrace a political agenda for mere penultimate gain; it must recognize that it is an expression of the body of Christ.

Unity and Diversity

Christ ate with whores and tax collectors, Pharisees and Sadducees, Jews and Gentiles, Lepers and the broken of body and spirit, with the rich and the poor. How can the church do less? Christ used the example of the Samaritan – people that were considered by Judaism to be ritually unclean and excluded from the people of God – as the example of compassion and chesed. Jesus, the man, is said to have risen above the prejudices of the day to see in the broken and outcast the face of the Creator. Perhaps this is what it means to be Christ. Luther got this one right: he said that in baptism we are called to be Christ, not simply to worship Christ. We are called to set aside judgment and learn to love.

Ah, but I am just a fool…

The Breakfast Club

It is Saturday morning. I have just had my coffee and have arrived at work. I do the Saturday detention. Really, it is a way to get paid for the hours that I would put in anyway on Saturday as well as allowing the detention to be more humane for the kids that messed up. I am not really into punishment. I try to help them to see this as a time to get some work done and make amends for a bad choice. I never really bought into the punitive model of education. I tend to think that school discipline needs to regard the kid, treat him or her with dignity, and require the same from him or her. That last part is hard with adolescents. It is a mutuality that I work toward.

Special Education and Class Behavior

I think that one of the hardest things that I have to do is manage the classroom with a group of special ed kids. They are not the kids that are able to apply the logic of consequences to their actions. They still need to moderate their behavior. Minimal expectations are just that, the bare minimum that is acceptable for anything.

A digression on minimal behavior; if I have rant, this is it: we – as a culture – have come to accept the minimum and punish excellence. The punishment for excellence is not always obvious. It can be the attitude that professional dress is frowned up (“Don’t do that, they’ll come to expect it…”) or asking why a worker will put extra effort into a project for the sake of pride in work. The result is that we worship at the altar of the great god Mediocrity. I do not believe in doing a half-assed job. For that I offer no apology to those that worship at that idol’s altar; I seek excellence. I want to be the best, not because I think I am better than others, but because I want to be better than I am. If I raise the bar, the kids will also rise to meet my expectations. But it is not fair to do that without offering appropriate support. Here ends the rant.

Behavior is the minimal expectation. I would like to believe that it is possible to inculcate a love of learning to my kids. I know that they are motivated when they make a grade. I think that they have gotten the idea that I give them a grade. I don’t give then squat. They earn their grades. Granted, I have changed the rubric for how the grade is made. I reward effort. My feeling is that if kids are receiving enforcement for effort that achievement will follow. Call me crazy, but this is my educational philosophy. I expect appropriate behavior in class. A kid that is removed from my class for behavior also loses points for that day and his or her grade is impacted. This is not a punishment. It is a choice and the logical outcome of the choice. Thus is the world. Thus is my class.

But, what happens to that kid that just does not get it? I have kids that misbehave for various reasons. Much of which is that they simply have not learned what is appropriate in class. I try to lead these kids to understand that they have to do what is asked. This is not a playtime: this is work. They are on what I call “my time.” There are the kids that understand precisely what they are doing. Those I come down on hard: consequences are quick and clearly defined. There is no ambiguity as to the reason for an action. Equally, consequences for good behavior are as quickly, if not more so, meted out. I want the kids to see that their appropriate behavior also has logical consequences and that these consequential actions are to their best interest.

Behavior Rather and Intention

Intrinsic motivation is the most powerful force to affect behavior. That is also something that a person finds in him or herself. Most of the time we all act out of perceived self-interest. Our motivation is to get something or avoid something. This is as true for the kids in school as it is for teachers and other adults. We act out of self-interest. Rarely do we ever transcend ourselves and act selflessly. This is not cynicism. It is the truth; we all act for our own purposes. For the most part what is good for “me” is good for “you” as well. The community is served as the individual prospers. I pay taxes not out of love for the government, but because I like having roads, police protection, schools, clean air and water and so on. I work not just out of love for my students – which does motivate me to do this rather than something else – but because they give me a little bit of money at the end of the month to do this (another subject for another posting).

Another rant: Why do we criticize our kids for wanting a reward for their labors? It is not a bribe to give a kid a homework pass or other reward for good work. I get paid for my work. Yet, we hold our kids to a higher standard than we ourselves are willing to attain: they have to work for the love of learning, we work for money. There is something wrong with that equation. Something very wrong, say I. While I would love to say that I am building an intrinsic love of learning that would be a stretch, even a lie. I enforce learning because the kids have come to learn that this is in their best interest. They receive positive reinforcement for their performance. They like the praise. They like to be rewarded with grades. I like to be rewarded with money. What is the problem with this? For my kids the rewards need to be immediate. Talking about the future is beyond most of them. But we expect them to learn for learning’s sake! This is truly bass-akwards when we consider that the kids in question are developmentally not at a point that they can grasp an ideal of altruism. Fair has nothing to do with it, it seems. End rant II.

Fair is Getting What I Need, Not the Same as Everybody Else

Why is this idea so hard to grasp? What is fair is not always equal. Yes, I believe that equal work deserves equal pay. But in order to do equal work some of us require disproportionate support. I have likened it to the comparison of social Darwinism to socialism. Capitalism rewards achievement is the cliché. What it rewards is reckless abandon for the rights of others in the name of greed. The strong may survive, but what of the compassionate or the creative? Rewarding strength only results in brutality.

Fairness is a loftier goal. It seems to me that many of us have never developed an adult sense of morality. I could offer my opinion as to why and never effect the impact of the observation. We believe that fair is equal distribution and then hold a contradictory notion that it is fair to keep what is attained by effort, even when that harms others. We use petroleum products like drugs in this culture. Is it fair to harm the environment, potentially permanently, so we can drive Hummers? The response is that “I earned this… It is mine.” Fine. What good does it do you when your children will not have a world in which to live? How is that fair? Fair is when all people get what they need, not what they want.

Fairness is difficult. What do we need? We need food and shelter. Really that is the minimum necessary. I would argue that arts are necessary. I also allow that not all would share that viewpoint. Food and shelter are the basic needs. We, as a world, have also agreed that a minimal education is requisite. It is difficult for me to justify as much as I have – and I live very simply – when I consider how little most have.

The minimal expectations need to be met. This is the beginning of a just society. But that will require a change in behavior. Behavioral changes originate from a perception of self-interest. And that will be deuce difficult…
But not impossible.

Ah, But I am only a fool…

- tDF

Forgive and Forget?

I’ve been in a place of self-reflection of late. Mostly, I’ve been thinking about past relationships and their undoing. I’ve come to a place of seeing that my partners have had their part in the undoing of a love and I have had mine. To a greater or lesser degree, I am responsible. That, really, is not the point, though. I am thinking about how to move past pain and regret into a place of forgiveness.

Forgetting Is Not Part of the Equation.

I’ve come to believe that forgiveness has nothing to do with forgetting. That is a naïve equation. If I forget it is as if nothing happened; a consequence of this is that nothing is learned. Learning is a costly endeavor. Learning about the human heart is the most costly of all. We humans are imperfect. We love partly out of selfish motives, partly out of selfless motives. There is a paradox in that and that paradox creates a tension that I think is fundamental to the heart’s longing for a beloved.

No, forgiveness can only happen when the choice is made to exonerate the other in full knowledge of the pain. How else can healing happen? I can merrily allow the disease to go on, lying to myself and the other or I can face down the difficulty and let go of my claim. This is not to say that I will stand and be a doormat: that is stupidity. Forgiveness is the absolution that allows for repentance (allowing for my overtly religious vocabulary).

What Does this Mean for Me?

I have come to a point of declaring a general amnesty to all those that have hurt me. This does not mean that I wish to reestablish connections with all of these people. In some cases I don’t believe that they are capable of an honest relationship of any sort. People that have elected to lie cannot be trusted to be honest. People that have trashed my heart repeatedly cannot be seen as friends; they have proven that their moral character is diminished. There is a point when forgiveness becomes an expression of cheap grace that demands no repentance. That is foolishness. I will be nobody’s doormat. But, equally, I will not live in bitterness toward those people.

There are people that I once loved. There are people that chose to treat the love offered cheaply. There are those that I offended and hurt as well. Forgiveness means not forgetting the pain, but moving beyond it. I will not allow my life to be defined by the way others have treated my heart. That is foolishness. Equally, I will not be the slave of my own desire for them to hurt like they hurt me.

Bitterness

“Get over it” has become my new mantra. I can choose life of choose death. Get busy living or dying, but just sitting is not life. I will not give the power to hurt me to those that have been unworthy of my heart’s deepest emotions. I have recently given that to a person that was in no way worthy of that. My mistake: I should never have allowed myself to go there. Get over it… get over her. Move on without harboring any bitterness toward her. She is not worth the energy.

Bitterness is expensive. It costs life itself. It seems to me that the many psycho-babes that I encountered had some measure of this in their lives. It is like poison. It eventually becomes the stuff that defines relationships in the light of a past not processed. The sins of the past become the context of the present and I am held accountable for the sins of others. That is the result of not living in forgiveness. I will not do that to anybody else. As for those of you that have done this to me, you have to live with your own private hell with flames of your own kindling and chains of your own forging. This was not done to you; by choosing not to let go you have made this into a hell.

You have two choices, roast in the flames or get over it.

It really is that simple.

Sundry Thoughts on Sunday Morning

It is early on Sunday Morning. The last several days have been OK. I am starting to fall into a rhythm at school, though five in the morning still seems like cruel and unusual punishment. I am having better success with my fifth period science class, though I still want to find things that I can do “hands-on.” The room I have is not set up for anything like that, sadly. I will have to improvise something.

Sixth period is my problem group. I have resigned myself to having some “fun” activity at the end of the day. I let them play something. It is a reward for merely being difficult for the previous forty minutes. They are SPED kids. The attention span has been tried and pushed to its limits. Also, most have reading difficulties. Again, this is life science. I would like to have something more hands-on, but the room… same song, different key.

Trying to Think About 9/11

I tried to write about 9/11, but found that what I remember most is the assault on Civil Rights that congress passed under the ironically named “The Patriot Act.” I kept thinking of the lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan owing to wars based on lies. I kept thinking about one of my students over the summer. I had given a writing assignment. I took what I thought would be an innocuous theme: “If I could speak to the President, I’d ask him…” Seemed like a good thing at the time. One girl wrote, “I would ask him why he killed my cousin. I miss him…” What could I say? When I wrote my comments to her, I told her about losing my cousin in Viet Nam. Shallow comfort: two deaths for lies told to the American people by our leaders.

I still stand resolute in my conviction that the war on terror is an unjust war. War is not a metaphor in this sentence, like the “War on Poverty.” This is a shooting war with no clearly defined enemy. Why has there been no outcry against the idea of a war against an idea? That is most frightening to me.

Yes, there are horrible and immoral people that will use terror as a weapon. We have had such a group in this country. The KKK was the terrorist wing of the Democratic Party in the South following the Civil War. The Democrats faced their demons; and have done well in separating themselves from this bloody past. Ironically, the Republican Party was the party of individual rights. It now has become the party of neo-fascism. It is the party of terror on an international scale. Why have we not considered the reason for the birth of terror? We created this monster though years of dependency on the resource they hold: oil. When human dignity is crushed so a foreign power can take a resource, the people that are broken can be rallied as a potent political force. Add religion to the mix and it becomes a crusade.

I am in no way condoning these acts: they are cruel, heartless, and barbarous. I would hope that we could find a way to break free from this cycle of despair. We are a creative and resourceful people. We need to do a new thing.

Back To Other Thoughts

I have been suffering from compassion-overload with the non-stop news about Hurricane Katrina. I have begun to wonder if there are any other events in the world news. It was horrible. I wonder why the administration that had demanded centralization of response to natural disaster could not respond more quickly. A hurricane is not like an earthquake. An earthquake strikes with no warning. The weather service can see a hurricane as it begins formation and sets a trajectory. It was not the wind or rain that did the most damage; it was the storm surge that followed. The levees were overwhelmed. Build a city on the coast below sea-level and floods must be anticipated.

It is all too easy to blame the director of FEMA. Yes, he bears some responsibility. The greater measure of responsibility goes to the Chief Executive that appeared oblivious to the threat. Centralize authority and the buck is going to land on the central authority’s desk. It did one thing for Mr. Bush. Cindy Sheehan was effectively blown off of the news.

Disorganized Thinking This Morning

I generally like to write to a theme. I like to have some coherency in what I am saying. If you are taking time to read, I need to write clearly. Today seems to be the exception to the rule. My mind is all over the map.

I am looking forward to school on Monday. I like the kids. I like it when I can see them learning. I like it when they push themselves a bit. Yeah, there are discipline problems. But they are not overwhelming. I just keep on keeping on. I like the school where I am working and enjoy my colleagues.

That’s all for now… maybe next time I’ll be more clear in my thoughts.

Happy Sunday.

- tDF

Unusual Emotional Response...

I've had a strange sensation for the past several days: I'm happy. It has been so long. I like this. This is a good thing. I could get used to this.

I've felt depressed, down, anxious for so long that the feeling of contentment and hope was unusual. A bit like singing poetry by Emily Dickinson to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Try it, it works! Go ahead, you know you want to...

My life closed twice
Before its close
And it remains to see
If immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge so hopeless
To conceive as those
that twice befell
For parting is all we know of heaven
and all we need of hell.

Go ahead... try it!

Gilligan died September 2nd; his death was announced today. Bob Denver expired at age seventy. I remember him as Maynard G. Krebbs. The lyrics to the Gilligan's Island theme song can be sung to the tune to "Stairway to Heaven." Seems darkly appropriate. But I digress...

There are several things that need to happen yet before I can say that my life has its order back. But I can see clear to their completion. I feel like I am at the edge of the forest and entering a new phase of life that is good.

Life finds a way. This happiness thing seems good to me.

-tDF

Order and Chaos in My Home

I suppose that one of the barometers of my emotional wellbeing is the condition of my apartment. When I am doing well things are clean and orderly. Well, maybe not too orderly, but most assuredly clean. Chaos in my home is very disconcerting. I can deal with a little clutter here and there, but I like things to be in some sort of discernable order. Lately my home has been a mess. Today was time to reclaim my environs.

It Seemed Like I Only Slept Here

My little apartment was my concession to my daughter’s need to be on land. Prior to this I was happy living on my boat. During my nautical hiatus, I lived a life that required that every thing have its place and every place had a thing that was assigned to it. A boat, even one as large as I inhabited, is a small place. There is little room for clutter, especially underway. The expression “ship-shape” is survival on-board. Chaos can be disastrous on a vessel. Order is part of survival.

While my boat was not always “Bristol,” it was orderly. My home had become disorderly, no not merely disorderly, it had become downright dirty. During the past year and a half I had come to a point of only sleeping here. I read in previous postings a concern that I was not in my space; my space was becoming a drop off point. I had allowed myself to fall into an orbit around an unworthy sun. This, I believe, exacerbated the chaos that followed – and was displayed by the condition of my home.

When my marriage to SL ended, I slipped into a very deep depression. Living on the water was my salve. The ocean is healing for me. The need for order was therapeutic. I moved on land when my daughter began to require more privacy than a 34-foot long sloop would allow. In a sense, I had severed my connection with the ocean that was healing to me. My depression became more pronounced and I began to realize that I had to reform my life. That, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. Life is evolution. Nevertheless, the circumstances that ensued began my decline to my nadir.

Need Meeting Need?

I met MM during a time of grief for both of us. I was acutely aware of my isolation and wanting to be “coupled.” She was divorced and had just lost a parent. I believe that it is cynical to reduce emotion to the mutual fulfillment of needs, but I will not discount the motivation to find in another what we crave for ourselves. I believe that she was craving a sense of loving that she missed; I know that I was craving a partner. I tried to date some following SL. I also knew that I could easily have fallen into a period using sex as a drug. I realized, when I bedded a young secretary at the agency where I worked, that I was beginning down that path. I stopped. I had a few unsuccessful dates. There was, however, no real relationship for nearly two years after my divorce.

My life had become chaotic. I was looking for order. I thought I might have found it with MM. I was mistaken. Instead, I found greater chaos and consider that I narrowly averted falling into her many neuroses. I do not believe, looking back, that MM is capable of equal loving. She takes. She did not know how to give a gift. She would make investments, but was looking for a return. Equally, she did not know how to accept a gift; she looked for the hidden clause, the trap, the attached string. I gave unconditionally. She could not see this and considered that there was some implicit demand being made. There was none.

I do know, as I look back, that I began to lose myself.

Now, I have to say that I am not attempting to indict MM. On the contrary, I am responsible for the choices that I made. I chose a needy person that, in the end, may have some more serious issues that I hope she will address. I suppose the pressing question is what was so damned attractive about a person that was one step away from emotional implosion? Ah, there’s the rub…

From Chaos Comes Order?

This may work for cosmology and for Nietzsche; it does not work for me in a relationship. I looked at my home and realized that the chaos was reasserting itself. It was doing this in no uncertain way. It was doing this in a way that would ultimately be destructive for me. The dirty floors (which I had previously scrubbed once a month) and the mound of laundry were only symptoms of a greater issue. I was letting my life spin out of control. This is dangerous for a person fighting depression. This is difficult for a person whose loss is clouding his vision. This was dangerous for me.

I’ve already written enough about the ending of this relationship. There is no need to say more. It came to a bad end, sadly. One that was fostered by lies, manipulations, deceit. My part in this was to allow it to happen. All at once, I saw. I felt no anger, just the compelling need to break free from the darkness that MM had brought to my life. It is over. I am glad for that. To celebrate, I scrubbed my floors.

That does not sound like much of a celebration. However, it was a reclaiming of my space for me. That is more to the point. I cleaned and organized as if I was striking at the periphery of the chaos that had begun to reassert itself in my life. There is much work to be done, but the floors are clean enough to eat off of. My bathroom feels like the restroom in a four-star restaurant.

What Remains to Be Done?

There is much more than scrubbing floors and organizing the house for the simple pleasure of eating at my table and feeling at home in my space. That is a great thing. It began with my getting rid of the leopard that MM had given me. I gave it to the little girl next door. She is two. She can have it as a nice toy rather than being a constant reminder of a lost love. I threw out the shirt with the leopard on it from Las Vegas. I’m done with her. Be gone.

I have begun to work again. I have to complete my credential. I will do that this year. I have to organize my finances. I have to find a decent car. All of these things will be done. I want to organize my life to make space for a woman that is worthy of me.

That sounds so egocentric to me, still. I have always thought of myself as the one that had to be worthy of my partner. This tended to make me see my partner is an exaulted light, as more than she was. In a very real sense this was incredibly unfair to any partner since they could never be what I saw. Changing the paradigm also changes the need for this person to be something she is not. She only needs to be honest, kind, forgiving, strong, loving, and wise.

I am reclaiming food that I loved and loved to prepare: beautiful seafood, mushrooms, lamb, all seasoned for a mediterrianian palate. I am listening to the music I love: Blues, Jazz,and doing it live. I am reading again. I am enjoying fiction for the joy of the written word. I am riding my bike again. I am finding the things that gave me joy before I shut them away to suite the whims of another.

I am moving on. I cleaned my floors. I organized my kitchen. I am sorting through the mess that I laughingly called my finances. I am coming out of the storm. My sails are set and my course laid in.

It is my space, not a shitbox. I live hear. I like it here. Bristol. Yes, it is Bristol.