The Dancing Fool

Finding Time to Write

2007-08-27T18:34:00.000-07:00

I love to write. I may not be a great writer, but I love the process of seeing thoughts take on some discernable form and being made available to anybody who cares to read them. I love writing. There is something about picking up a text and knowing that the moment of its creation is being shared across time with somebody who cared enough to read what was written that I find intoxicating. I am not a profound thinker. Nor am I a great poet – I do struggle to find the right word – that warrants publication for the ages. No, I am common. But I love to write.

The problem is that I have a very full schedule. I also love to play music. Music takes work. Wood-shedding is a lonely process of repetition until the riff sounds like music. It is painful. It is hard. But it is the price of making music. I can’t play an instrument if I don’t practice until the riff is under my fingers without the need to think. It has to be as fluid as speech.

And there is the irony.

Speech is not easy, either. It is not enough to have something to say. We all have something to say. It has to be said in a way that warrants the attention and honors the gift of the reader’s time. Writing requires practice. Writing requires wood-shedding, as well. There is a rhythm to good writing, a flow that feeds the imagination of the reading, using words like strings and drums, leading the reader into the mind and heart of the writer. This is where poetry and music coalesce into song. By song, I don’t mean the majority of the crap that passes for music on the pop charts. I am looking for something that is more beautiful, more honest, more passionate still.

Art is not easy. It is a harsh and demanding mistress that requires time, effort, pain and ultimately the soul of the artist. It is a bargain with a devil that tempts like fire tempted Prometheus asking if you are willing to allow the eagle eternally to peck at your liver so your sister and brother may take fire for granted. And so it is that some of us are seduced by the siren sound of the call to be an artist.

I have to practice. I am driven, compelled, to make my music better still. And I love to write.

Sex Offenders?

2007-07-24T16:23:00.000-07:00

Let’s be honest: I am a leftist, a true liberal to my core. But there are some things that must be enforced: the right to one’s person is part of a free society. We are our own property; our bodies are not the property of the State, the Church, or God or the Devil. I believe that laws regarding the violation of a person’s sexual boundaries are well placed and deserve to be fairly enforced. I am the father of daughters: God help anybody that hurts them. I may be a leftist, but I would become the very hammer of God where their welfare is involved.

An item on the news today: a middle-school boy was charged with a felony – yes a felony – for having playfully smacked a girl on her bottom. Was this appropriate behavior? No and Yes. Preadolescence is where we learn about our bodies and sexuality; should a person be touching another person’s “intimate body parts”? That is a matter of consent. Kids do dumb things. They touch each other and begin to learn what is appropriate and in what context. Context and relationship make all the difference.

To have charged this child with felony sexual battery is the triumph of the absurd. I’ve watched kids this age. Both sexes do things that they would be less apt to do later in life unless they understood that there was consent. A boy smacks a girl on the butt and he is a rapist? Pardon my Y-chromosome, but doesn’t this trivialize rape?

I had a friend who was raped. She was a friend; trust was part of our platonic relationship. There was nothing trivial about the pain or the humiliation that she felt. It took her at least a year to be able to think about sex without violence being attached to it. This was terror and theft of that which was most intimate and personal. We trivialize the most revolting acts by lowering the bar that defines what is truly horrid and what is merely in bad taste.

We have to get past our cultural pre-pubescence and see that sex is natural and good. The natural process of development is not a bad thing. We all have done some dumb things. I smacked a girl on her bottom, made jokes about tits, talked about what I wanted to do in the locker-room like all boys that age did. But that does not make me a sexual predator; it made me a thirteen year old boy that was curious about girls, who were curious about boys.

If there was a rape with that incarceration it was a rape of justice and a slap in the face of people that have suffered sexual violence.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Loyal Opposition?

2007-07-22T11:07:00.000-07:00

I heard on the news that the President recently had a colonoscopy: I wonder if they found his head? OK, that was terribly obvious. I have never been a fan of our current president; mission accomplished, the “surge” (a nice euphemism for what people of my generation called “escalation of the war”), and – of course – a declaration of war on an idea. My sarcastic comment about having located Mr. Bush’s so-called and somewhat addled brain stands in the mainstream of the most American of virtues: the right of dissent.

Applied Dialectic
The object of a rational dialog is to resolve a disagreement through a logical proposition of thesis and antithesis to reach a synthesis: that is some resolution that is both reasonable and regards the original proponent’s viewpoints. This seems to be central to the ideals of our constitutional republic: we have a system that is filled with checks and balances. This is not terribly effective if measured in terms of hasty completion of tasks, but does tend to create points of dialog where truth may be discovered. Any dialectic method has, as its aim, the discovery of a common truth that may not be self-evident and requires a good deal of parsing to discover.

The fact that dialectic supposes opposition suggests that the confrontation is not a bad thing; quite to the contrary, it warns against the presumption of absolute knowledge of truth by requiring that any supposition of justice be subject to the test of loyal opposition. For any dialectical method to function there must be an advocate of the antithesis, that is to say an opposing viewpoint.

Accountability: Checks and Balances
Since when is calling our leaders to account for actions taken on our behalf – Do you recall the creation of a government by and for the people? – an unpatriotic act? Apparently this is the position of our current administration. Senator Hillary Clinton was rebuked by the Under Secretary of Defense, Eric Edelman, for asking questions deemed to be inappropriate: "Premature and public discussion of the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Iraq reinforces enemy propaganda." Is the issue that a free exchange of ideas is a reinforcement of enemy propaganda? And just who is the enemy, terror? It would seem to this fool that when one is terrified that one cannot dare to speak the truth that is on one’s mind. Who is the terrorist in this exchange? The one that seeks to diminish the dialog that leads to truth.

In a free and democratic society public servants are free to speak their minds. This means that a spirited public debate is necessary to hear all points of view. It would seem that if there is any image to bring to the so-called enemies of freedom it is this: a great nation is open to dialog. I wish that I recalled who said it: In a war, the first casualty is the truth.

Beware of Absolute Loyalty
I fear for the welfare of my children when I hear our government demanding absolute and unquestioning loyalty to an ideal proposed by those in power. How dare they make this demand? And why are we not demanding their removal when it is made? This is not an issue of left and right, conservative and liberal: it is an issue of truth. Anybody that dares to question one’s loyalty because the veracity of our leaders has been called to account is a dangerous fellow that needs to be brought out of the shadows and into the light to be seen for what he or she is. The way that this is done is to dare to ask the questions and question the answers.

Dissent is the most American of virtues. I prove my loyalty by my dissent. I prove my patriotism by demanding accountability. Democracy is difficult. It presumes that we cherish the freedoms that define us as a nation. It presumes that we will work to make our legacy to our children this great democratic experiment that we call America. To do this we cannot fall into an ideological absolutism that precludes dialog and forbids the one who marches to the beat of a different drummer to speak the truth as he or she hears it. Indeed, we welcome dissent because the dialog makes us stronger. Away with the terror that requires blind faith in leaders that have been proven as liars.

Who knows, maybe they found Bush’s brain right next to the WMDs that were the reason for the war. They were right next to Osama Bin Laden’s hideout deep in the imagination of those who feel that mere bluster is an argument that will persuade. Ask the question. Question the answers.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

A rumination at my desk

2007-07-05T15:57:00.000-07:00

OK… Fair enough: Six months is a long time to go without writing. I have been on a hiatus from daily ruminations. Life is good, but I’ve been busy getting my feet back under me. I realized that it has been this long when I tried to make a post on YouTube only to learn that my ‘blog had fallen into the nether world of ignored internet sites. Even now I am certain that I am the only person reading these words. Still, it was once well read and it began with one person reading it. So what can happen once can happen again…

***** ***** *****

The United States has won the world’s record for speed eating. This is a competition that can only be waged by a nation or nations that are not only consumerist in their orientation, but have enough food to waste in such trivial pursuits. I kept wondering about people starving in this country. I’ve seen enough overweight homeless people to know that not all that lack shelter lack food; but there is extreme poverty in this country and poverty that goes to the point of being obscene in the world. Are there not famines enough to make one take a moment’s pause and wonder about the sheer decadent excess of such a thing?

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Scooter Libby has had a commutation of his sentence. Bushy-boy apparently thought that his family had suffered enough and that it was an excessive sentence for having participated in the lies and prevarications that led to the Iraq war. Out an operative of our intelligence community for political aims and look forward to a commutation and a potential pardon. What about all of the people that were executed under Bush’s administration when he was the Governor of Texas? I suppose that their pain was not really the point. They might have killed one or two people. Kill the fuckers…. To hell with the pain their families feel. If you are to be pardoned you have to contribute to the terror that is war waged on the basis of a lie: make no mistake, our President bears responsibility for the deaths of over 3,000 American soldiers, to say nothing of soldiers from the “coalition of the willing” and those Iraqis that have lost their lives. But Lewis Libby has a cool nickname that makes him sound like a kid with freckles, a missing front tooth, in a baseball cap, riding a skateboard… There is Americana in that name. So what the hell… (read these last few lines with a voice dripping with sarcasm).

***** ***** *****

I’ve been playing the acoustic bass lately. I got an upright and am relearning my instrument. All of those low rumbles in Ventura are probably me making horrid noises with an instrument that is as tall as I am and equally wide. My cat loves to come in when I practice: he meows in Bb and has perfect pitch.

More later, and sooner…

Relationships, the Past, and a Course for the Now

2007-01-04T17:29:00.000-08:00

I’ve Been Thinking About My past: a bit of historical reflection allows course correction for the future. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about my past relationships. I am aware that the one constant in all of the failures and successes that I’ve had has been me. There are things that I do very well in relationships and things that I have not done as well.

Six Feet Under
Lately, I’ve found myself hooked on Six Feet Under. There was a scene when Ruth and her new husband are making love. They are celebrating their union with carnal bliss, lust that filled their cups and overflowed down the halls into the rooms where their adult children were sleeping to be disturbed by the sounds of geriatric orgasms. That began my thinking: there were relationships that I had where the sex was the stuff that gods only dreamed of, carnality elevated to a point where flesh and spirit merged into something well beyond either. SL and I enjoyed this sort of lusty life. So did LA and I, though less frequently, so did DP and I. But the problem with all three of these relationships was that the passion was explosive and also spilt over into other parts of our lives that could have benefited from a more prosaic and detached relating that would have been a bit more boring, but certainly more peaceful.

I am a passionate person: not simply a sexual person, but a person that is full of emotional dynamite that is easily set off. The emotional connection that translated into free and experimental sexual expression wanted also to be translated into paying the bills or taking out the trash. It was the living together that I found so hard, the daily minutiae that needs must be attended to in order to have a stable and orderly household. Emotional dynamite is not stable; by its very nature, it is explosive and highly unstable. And that instability became the undoing of several of my relationships.

Hear me well: I am a committed person that is hardwired for monogamy. I will quickly plead guilty to a period of prodigal excess, but in my defense would note that this was an aberration, a deviation from the self in an attempt to numb a pain that was too deep to bear. I am responsible for the choices that I made. I did them – no pun intended – and nobody forced me; I masked my own wounds from the explosives that I handled by fucking any woman that would have me. Monogamy: my dream was to find one woman and live with only her, to have been only with her, to have known only her flesh, to have given myself totally to her and to be totally hers.

Needless to say, my wires got crossed: I short-circuited and would burn with dark oily smoke that concealed the searing heat that consumed and destroyed what I cherished and wanted to be. Having been married three times and having had more partners than I can number I know what a joke that became. My history betrays the intrinsic conflict that I have lived, an existential inconsistency that leaves me here, looking at the past and hoping for a future.

The First Day
We live, we do our best. We do our worst and spend a life recovering from the harm that we have caused and hoping to be as good as the best of what we are most deeply within that cries for the light of day. From the very moment of our birth, when we draw our first breath, we are pushing free from another person and laboring to be. I am a child of the seventies: I came of age in the halcyon days of guitar rock and narcissism. We were aware that “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.” I was never sure what that meant. I assumed that it was an excuse for more excess. While I was decidedly out of step with the cultural memes and mores of my time of coming of age, I still maintain an imprint of that time. Today is a new beginning, but it is never divorced from the course of my personal history.

The irony is that every beginning brings an ending, every birth brings a death. But the opposite is not necessarily true. Endings do not require beginnings. Death does not require birth. Some things simply become extinct; they fade away and fall into oblivion. Some things should become extinct. We all will. Our time is only a moment, one of an unknown quantity of moments that stand in connection each to the others, all that push into the light and fall back into the darkness.

Rage Against the Dying of the Light
We will all burn out. It is our choice to burn brightly and to bring light to others or to dwell in darkness, either of our own device or our being eclipsed by something else. Like a child pushing out of its mother’s womb, we gasp for our first breath and our fist fleeting glimpse of the light. So, what does all of this hyperbole have to do with relationships?

I look back at my history and see a dance of darkness and light, great good and deep darkness locked in struggle each with the other. For me it is learning balance, to be passionate and yet to find peace within that allows me to be the best that is within me, to be a midwife to my own birth, to my being me. And not going gently into that good night…

Ah, but I am only a fool.

New Year - 2007

2007-01-01T02:03:00.000-08:00

I can’t avoid the reality that I am going to be fifty this year. There are birthdays that have some culturally ascribed weight; fifty is one of these. Half a century old – who would have thought that I would be so old; yet, I see grey in my hair. I shaved my goatee because of the grey. I still feel young. But my body is beginning to belie my deception of youth. Aches and pains greet me in the morning; it is my back that is stiff in the morning now.

Time Passes
I remember how horrible it was when my father turned fifty. He cried out against the injustice of the gods and threatened to take us all down with him. He was always given to violent outbursts and his aging has done little to curb this tendency toward hyperbole. I’ve decided to walk more gently toward that good night. A favorite poem by Dylan Thomas comes to mind:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might
have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they
grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse,bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

It is the dying of the light that is the object and the occasion of rage, not the son or family. So how shall I rage against the dying of the light except to live in the face of death?

MS and AIDS
I’ve given serious thought to doing the MS Tour or the AIDS ride to celebrate my birthday. I would have to raise at least $2,500 dollars in donations to do the ride, but what the hell? I can do this. It is just a matter of planning and making it happen. I would rather raise money to spit in the eye of death than go down in a whimper or worse a misdirected bang. I have lost several friends to AIDS and had a serious scare with MS several years ago (I had symptoms that looked like the onset of MS, turned out to be anxiety).

I believe in living in this moment and not worrying about an afterlife. I am dubious about afterlife and wonder if this is not simply a means to soften the blow of our own mortality. Religious claims about heaven and hell all seem to be ways of justifying our own prejudices and softening our fears: we are small in this world, but will be great in the next. Best not to worry about that, just to live in the now.

New Year Resolves
I have made several resolutions in the past. I am not doing that this year; for me resolutions seem to be exercises in futility. I have goals and lifestyle changes that are more important than my so-called “resolves” for the New Year. Most pressing is my weight (I’ve made mention of that in the past, enough said).

I think that if I have any resolutions for this year it is this: I will turn fifty gracefully and enjoy the new chapter in my life. Enough for now.

Happy New Year.
- tDF

Winning and Losing

2006-12-21T16:38:00.000-08:00

The President recently was on the idiot box – a tool aptly named – and proclaimed that more troops were needed to achieve victory in Iraq. He noted that we are losing the war and that escalation was the necessitated strategy. I will be the first to admit that my memory is hazy, but it seems to me that the President declared that the war in Iraq had ended in victory and that the mission was accomplished. I feel as if we, the American people, are through the looking glass. If we won and victory was proclaimed – though I am still foggy about the identity of the enemy or the perimeters of the mission – then how can we be losing and require clarity as to the nature of the mission. Wasn’t “war against terror” ambiguous enough? I know that I’ve used St. Augustine’s Just War on more than one occasion to illustrate the point. A clearly defined objective is part of that construct. It seems that we don’t have one in Iraq and need more troops to accomplish the end that still remains undefined.

***** ***** *****

I was thinking about the relationship between Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. All three of these religions share a common root: the promise made to Abraham by Yaweh (Gn. 12.1ff). All three of these religious traditions derive from the covenant cut by God with the patriarch, a wandering Aramean (Deut 26.5), bereft of future that had faith in the promise made. Sadly we have not learned to come together as children of the same father, members of the same family. The issue was that of land and an inheritance, at least in a penultimate sense. Each tribe – Christians, Jews, and Muslims – make a claim to the territory but have forgotten that all are part of the same family and that inheritance may be mutual.

Family fights over inheritance are the worst. I’ve seen families torn apart by what each thought that their parents would have wanted, or worse yet when the will allows a measure of ambiguity that allows each to attach the force of law to his or her interpretation of the stated intent. Perhaps the real intent is that we live together in peace and harmony as brothers and sisters should (Ps. 133); the idea of being at one in the place of worship stands as the existential metaphor of a life that transcends nation or claim and seeks the greatest good for all. Everybody gets what they need. Nobody hordes because they trust that they will be given in their need as they give to support those in need.

So what does this have to do with a war fought on the pretext of lies? Much in every way, I fear and trust.

***** ***** *****

The issue that stands at the heart of the Abraham story is trust. Abraham trusts God and it is credited to him as righteousness (Gal. 3.6, Gn. 15.6). What does it mean to trust, or to keep faith? Allow me a commonly used image; inasmuch as the Bible has compared the covenant with the people as a marriage, it is valid: is it enough to say that I believe in monogamy and then to claim that I am free from mandates to go and act in a way that belies my confession of faith? How can a person claim to have faith in his or her marriage while committing adultery? Keeping faith is not an act of intellect. It is ethical as much as it is spiritual or confessional. Christians are guilty of having separated faith from action by claiming that justification by grace through faith (Eph 2.8ff) does not require a person to act like they believe the creed that they are confessing.

Abraham trusts God. The sons and daughters of Abraham are called upon to do the same thing. The pressing question is what form that faith should take in the penultimate context of our existence. Shall we become bellicose in our orthodoxy, creating division as we litigate the terms of our parents’ will? Shall we realize that we are three children called upon to share the family’s farm, each taking responsibility for its wellbeing and each investing labor that all may be fed?

***** ***** *****

We are called upon to place trust in our leaders. But this assumes not a blind obedience, but willingness to question as an act of faith. The terms of this war have changed to match the whim of the President who, like a child caught in a lie, changes the terms to match the context in the hopes that his dishonesty will not be revealed. What I find most disturbing is that Mr. Bush claims to have been “in the spirit” (Rev. 1.10) when he made his realizations about the conflict in Iraq, an allusion to the epiphany of St. John the Divine as he envisioned the apocalypse.

And tell lies and the family continues to fight, each child claiming the inheritance of the father whose tears are shed like drops of blood in the land that was once called Aramea…

Ah, But I am only a fool…

Double Down

2006-12-13T08:05:00.000-08:00

First it was “Mission Accomplished.” Later the word was “Stay the Course.” Now we are going to “double down” as if the dealer is holding a soft 17 and we can make 21 on a big hand. Either way, it is a poor gamble with the lives of our soldiers. The sad reality is that our nation has destroyed the stability of the region by our adventurism in Iraq. Whatever happened to “weapons of mass destruction” or to Osama bin Laden’s supposed connection to Iraq? All of these have been debunked. And this says nothing of our involvement in Afghanistan.

I am an unapologetic leftist. The war was immoral; it was waged on the pretext of a lie and has no clear objective. Without an objective there is no means by which “victory” can be measured or defeat determined. What I find most disturbing is that I see no way out that will not inflict more damage than we have already done. We created a civil war. Hussein may well have been a tyrant, but we have become an army of invasion short of occupation. Our nation has become a latter-day pirate, raiding a nation on the pretext of a lie with no interest beyond lip-service for the well-being of the people whose country has been destroyed.

Cut and Run
I have to concede that the neo-fascists in our nation have won the war of rhetoric. By creating a false dichotomy they have defined the debate to serve their own propagandistic needs: loyal opposition to the war becomes an act of cowardice and any dissent is couched as non-support of “our brave boys in uniform”. The Democratic Party, traditionally a war party, has done poorly in meeting the debate. Leadership by polls is not leadership: somebody has to have the courage to say “No” to the lies that have been told and to challenge the denegation of civil rights in the name on the “War on Terror” and to stand and say it take courage to fix what cowards have destroyed.

I do not believe that there is an easy way out of Iraq. To leave now is to leave a country destroyed. George Marshall – hardly a liberal – understood the need to rebuild Germany following World War II. It was not for the sake of generosity or kindness, but because it was in our national interest to do so. The reality is that doing good helps us to do well. So what is the good that needs to be done in Iraq? We have to admit that we have destabilized a nation by generations of manipulation of the region. Iraq became our friend when Iran became our enemy. We were happy to have the tension between both nations because that polarized their attention. Our CIA put Hussein into power. We are ultimately responsible for his having been put there, much the same way that we are the authors of Agusto Pinochet’s ascension in Chile. We went to Iraq for oil. We have blood on our hands.

Sadly the rhetoric has become the reality. Leaving Iraq now leaves the country embroiled in a civil war that has no certain outcome. It allows for flux that will be inherently destabilizing. We need to leave, but it has to be an orderly withdrawal that places the United Nations in the role of peacekeeper and arbitrator to avoid further deterioration in the region. Beyond this, we have to wean ourselves from our dependence upon oil. The reason that we find ourselves in such a mess is that this nation has reserves that are environmentally sensitive. We are the proverbial NIMBYs: Not In My Back Yard. We will not destroy our land and natural beauty, but are content to destroy a nation to feed our dependence on petrol-chemicals.

Changes at the Root
The word “radical” derives from the Latin word radix which means “root”. At the root of the issue is the essential instability that this addiction creates for our nation. It is in our national interest to use the great power of industry and government to create new sources of energy that are both green and available to all. This is not science fiction, it is a matter of will. Do we have the will to undergo a period of painful transformation to give birth to a new future that creates new markets and employment, allows us to be secure, and to diminish the power that the region holds to blackmail our nation with oil?

This is a bet that I would suggest we take. Hell, we’ll even double down.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

The Seven Deadly Sins

2006-12-11T19:41:00.000-08:00

Following my last post – I should never write and publish when I am struggling to sleep; nonsense is the result, and not even my usual caliber of pontification or criticism at that – I thought to take some time and actually write, much as I used to do. Anybody that knows me also knows that I have had a virulent dislike for the holiday season. Partially because of the consumerist frenzy, partially because I become depressed, partially because I am loathe to celebrate simply because I am told, “tis the season to be jolly…” All of that seems rather contrived to me. Call be acerbic, cynical, or anything else that you may find in your lexicon; the truth is that I have little use for the holidays.

Apropos my dislike of holidays, I was given pause to consider the seven deadly sins. Most of us have heard of them, most of us are participants in these, and their opposing virtues as well – simil iustus et peccattor, I suppose – but I would equally suppose that such a listing of virtues and vices runs contrary to a culture that thrives on excess, hedonism, and egocentrism. I am not immune from this, indeed, count the occurrences of the pronoun “I” and one can quickly extrapolate that my universe may not me solipsistic, but it is certainly egocentric. At any rate, here are the seven deadly sins and a brief description of their characteristics (taken from www.deadlysins.com):

Pride is excessive belief in one's own abilities that interferes with the individual's recognition of the grace of God. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity.
Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation.
Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.
Anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. It is also known as Wrath.
Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual. It is also called Avarice or Covetousness.
Sloth is the avoidance of physical or spiritual work.

This looks like a corporate mission statement or a description of an American life. In a previous post, I commented on my realization of my gluttony. That was difficult for me. As a nation we consume so much more than we need. As an individual I have put myself in a place that I have had to lose 60 pounds. That is the weight of a small child (hopefully a healthy one). I’ve become aware of just how much the moral relativism that we embrace as personal freedom has been harmful to us – the plural is very intentional – as individuals and as a nation. I think that the Seven Deadly Sins provide a good framework for the discussion.

The truth is that all of these are exercises in excess and that they are all interconnected. One cannot be involved with one without encountering another. We all share these traits, we all, to a greater or lesser degree, find ourselves involved in them. There are no fingers pointing. This is the reality of life. Think about lust for a moment. It is born of greed and involves envy and or gluttony. Sloth, laziness – sadly, my favorite of the sins – has to do with avoiding spiritual or physical work. We dwell in a consumerist haze that blinds us to spiritual development (more later on that issue) and leads us into a fool’s paradise of new-age nonsense or, worse, a diluted embrace of an “Idiot’s Guide” version of a given religious tradition. Think about a person tattooing Hebrew letters onto his or her body to celebrate their Judaism when that selfsame religion forbids tattoos. That is like eating pork to celebrate Islam or, worse, thinking that it is OK to eat faux port to enjoy that “great pork flavor” without actually eating the flesh of the swine. What happened to the greater meaning of the command? It becomes overly literal or impotent and merely metaphorical.

The Greatest Possible Good
I have to confess that I have left theological ethics as a relic of antique religious confession. I find that the art of living in community requires that humans transcend our basic greed and adopt a functional morality that values the “happiness” of the greatest number as its driving principle. By “happiness” I do not mean contentedness or even satisfaction with a person, place, or thing: I rather think of a meeting of life’s needs that the person is free to live in a world that is marked by clean air and water, available food and shelter, freedom to pursue interests and freedom from poverty. This is a culture or society predicated on the greatest good for the greatest number. There is no need of God in this equation, though many may find expressions of the divine in this: “to have done this for the least of these is to have done this for me” are the words attributed to Jesus of Nazareth.

Happiness is not the fulfillment of desire. Indeed, this is the realm of the construct that we call the Seven Deadly Sins. Pandering to desire, to the passions of the self, drive systems of oppression such as capitalism and lead to violent confrontation. It is an issue of balance, an art to life in community that has to constitute the basis for any moral system that can be ecumenical, secular, and regard an individual or culture’s spiritual moorings. The irony is that pandering to desire leads to greater dissatisfaction and ultimately to despair. This is most evident when one considers the spiritual emptiness of the so-called developed world: we are rich in things and poor in soul. We try to find satisfaction in sex, in excess, in food, in making ourselves into more or less than we are. We are guilty of sin; we have forgotten that we are stardust that has had the good fortune of having become animate and sentient.

Creation Myths and Connection
I am most familiar with the Christian telling of the Jewish creation story. This myth is powerful indeed and seeks to convince us that we share a common origin and destiny: we are dust and to dust we shall return, as the Ash Wednesday Liturgy has it. From our beginnings and in our ends we are dependant upon others. To believe that we are not is to deny our connection to a community that gives us myth, language, means of expression of our thoughts and articulation of our needs. It also reminds us that we are of no ultimate importance in and of ourselves. Dust has not real importance. Neither do the constructs of dust. What is money but a metaphor for wealth that is not real in any absolute sense of the word? Gold is valuable because it is agreed upon as a value. It is nothing apart from that. The only things that we truly need are food, shelter, and tasks to occupy our minds and body.

Pride: we believe that we are more than dust. The question of whether God exists or not is irrelevant to the question: it is what we will do with the reality of our finitude and ultimate disintegration that matters in this moment. The truth is that we are nothing. So why not enjoy the ride? Take what you need, use what you take. Be kind because kindness allows us to live in harmony with one another and serves not only the greater good but “my” good and is in “my self-interest.”

The curious thing is that the Seven Deadly Sins deal not in proscription, but in excess; they counsel moderation that allows enjoyment of life. The exception to this is Pride. It is not that Pride disallows God, but that Pride denies origin and destiny thus making authentic life impossible. If I am free from myself, I am free for other things that allow a greater joy and happiness than I could otherwise enjoy. Just a few thoughts over the holidays… More on that later.

- tDF

OK, Just for Fun I did the quiz to see my favorite sins... No surprises here! -tDF

Greed:	High
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	High
Envy:	High
Lust:	Very High
Pride:	Low

Take the Seven
Deadly Sins Quiz

insomnia

2006-12-08T03:05:00.000-08:00

that your mind races like a formula one in some European classic and it continues to accelerate spinning beyond the redline fueling the need for rest but disallowing the reality of rest so I sit here like a condemned man awaiting his fate the green room having been prepared and time which normally is fleet and winged seems to have come to a standstill as I await a rest penultimate though it may be that seems to be longstanding and distant like Tantalus standing chin deep in sweet fresh water with beautiful fruit only an inch from his fingers both drawing away as he nears them to satiate his needs and appetites but only tormented by their proximity and distance ironic that there is something of a brutal irony in the fact that I am sitting typing and cannot find a moment to rest my mind is rushing racing like an Indy car over Memorial Day thoughts rushing and saying precious little worth thinking much like the news of the past several days much like listening to our president stating that if we don’t pull out of Iraq we will not be victorious much like his response to the bipartisan report suggesting that his adventurism as only cost the lives of too many combatants and innocents leaving a blood trail a stain of guilt and a metaphor for our insatiable appetites for petrochemicals and yet I am loathe to admit that I would not even be typing were it not for plastics and energy produced at the cost of the environment is that an irony or an act of hypocrisy I don’t know the church called this a double-bind original sin that is damned if you do and damned if you don’t if I am equally damned then fuck it I’ll have a good time but at what cost I was thinking about the past a few days ago dazed and confused fucking my way though an office having become something of a joke an initiation rite for new female employees of a certain age it really did not matter how many women I did at that time don’t you hate that expression as if a person is simply something not someone that is done do me cream me fuck me oh fuck me for having been such an ass during those days truth is that I didn’t have sex with half the women that my reputation might have suggested but I was a kid in a candy store in a diabetic coma in a stupor induced by excess and my mind continues bush is an ass that has no idea what the hell is his doing in Iraq and does not seem to appreciate that we this nation are the cause of terror why do they hate us because we destroyed the order of the world a novo ordo secularum that is vastly inferior to the clear and present oppression that we are ghost writers to we put Hussein into power we put the Shah into power we have been playing poker with smaller countries as part of our chess match with Communism checkmate but the bluff still goes on like Texas hold’em the river has been dealt and we are still playing the cards without regard for the man the cat is crying at my feet he chased me out of the bedroom and attacked by foot as I walked past he is a good puss cat like women you never know what makes them happy but sure as hell can tell when they are pissed I love women but do not understand them but that is part of the charm I admire and adore women but cannot claim to understand them I walked into the coffee room at my former workplace one day and overheard a conversation between two women one that had slept with me the previous week and another that had not who said that she wanted to fuck me I walked in when she said this and could only reply and so you shall my dear but never did no I never did morality confuses me why is sex a bad thing but killing on a massive scale makes for statesmanship unless you are on the wrong side of the battle in which case it becomes a war crime it seems that the whole dilemma is somewhat relative there are no absolutes left in this world Christmas is coming the goose is getting fat bad for the heart I really hate the true spirit of the holiday who really cares that it is an arbitrary declaration of the early Christian church in response to Saturnalia to have a child born of a virgin another ironic statement chastity in the face of accusations of harlotry I don’t grasp the contradictions of the Christian faith which I used to profess and now have regressed to a gentile agnosticism that is disinterested in the question because it is difficult for me to find relevance in the whole issue of God I hate insomnia the problem is

Cause and Effect

2006-10-31T15:17:00.000-08:00

I have never been a proponent of the idea that there is always a clearly defined and discernable cause and effect for any event, action, and so on. Too many variables, known and unknown, tend to cloud the calculus to trust the results absolutely. I believe in chaos, albeit a limited chaos – similarly, I believe in finite freedom of the will but that is an arcane theological issue concerning eschatology and faith – that clouds the judgment and disallows a purely empirical assessment of primal cause and ultimate effect.

Science is largely built on logical detached observation: its central article of faith is (relatively) objective observation. Heisenburg drilled holes in that supposition when he noted that the presence of an observer changes the experiment. What we know we have either reasoned out by having criticized the observation and established the relative predictability of a result to a given action. Ultimately, however, we don’t know. We trust in experience and in the maxims that describe the experience of others that have made similar observation. Our experience, while not absolute, allows existential certainty that a predictable result will follow a known cause. I let go of an object and it will fall toward earth: gravitation is observed and works. One might argue that the elemental forces of nature are immutable, perhaps even absolute. One might be correct in the assertion that an object dropped will always fall in the presence of gravity, or even that both objects will move toward each other in a manner that reflects the mass of either. But one cannot absolutely prove this, whether for fault of language or experience the possibility remains that it may not be so, however infinitesimal that possibility may be.

The human heart is a whole other thing. It has a logic all its own that defies simple cause/effect relationships. Why should this be? Are not our emotions the results of a physiological response to a stimulus? I hear a phrase or see an event. My brain processes that event and responds, based on its programming: the sum of my experience and the value system inculcated into that heart and mind. I hear that my wife wants a divorce and my heart breaks, as it has on two occasions. My daughter tells me she loves me and I feel a “warmth” that is simply ineffable. A car cuts across my path while cycling – as happened today – and I feel anxiety followed by relief. These are predictable. It is the events of the heart and mind that defy prediction which are difficult.

This brings me to my real concern today. I remain confused by the depth of emotion that I feel and the way that this seems only to intensify as I grow closer to 50 years of age. Jung once postulated that NTs (intuitive thinkers) become more feeling and sense oriented as they age, as if the psyche is seeking a balance. The same is true for other types, SJs (sensing judgers) become more imaginative and willing to let things be open, and so on. This is difficult for me as I am painfully aware that emotions pass, but the havoc that they can create remains long after the feelings have dissipated into the mist.

As an NT, I have always looked for order, even an order that is predicated upon chaos – I am intuitive, my mind can be wrapped around that idea – and I fear that this has been a quest that will never be completed. There is a part of me that has always felt that it is the journey, not the destination that causes the sailor to cast of the dock-lines. I have never felt that there is an ultimate meaning to life – Westminister Catechism be damned – and that we are not blessed with the vision to see beyond the context of our lives. Thus, all observations are by their nature narrow and parochial, subject to revision and in need of constant correction, or not ( I have to leave that possibility open, if I am to be an honest fool).

The problem with any strong emotion is that once it is past you are left with results that you could not have predicted because the chaos of the human heart and mind is greater than the ability to reason forces of nature.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

The Great Wall of Bush

2006-10-27T06:22:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard the old joke about Mexican Olympic atheletes? Why has Mexico never won a gold metal in the summer games? Because any of us that can run, swim, or jump are already here! I can tell that joke, being Mexican. A white guy tells it and it becomes racist. Double standards... I doubt that we will ever outgrow them. Speaking of double standards, here it the summary of a bill signed today by "W" proposing that we partition the southern border of these United States.

109th CONGRESS
1st Session
H. R. 4083
To direct the
Secretary of Homeland Security to construct a fence along the southern border of
the United States.
IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
October 19, 2005

Mr. GOODE (for himself, Mr. HUNTER, Mr. GINGREY, Mr. HAYWORTH, Mr. ROGERS of Alabama, Ms. FOXX, Mr. BARRETT of South Carolina, Mr. JONES of North Carolina, Mr. GARRETT of New Jersey, Mr. TANCREDO, Mr. NORWOOD, Mr. DEAL of Georgia, Mr. DAVIS of Kentucky, Mr. SULLIVAN, Mr. BROWN of South Carolina, Mr. WILSON of South Carolina, Mr. SAM JOHNSON of Texas, Mr. CULBERSON, Mr. POE, Mr. CARTER, Mr. ROHRABACHER, Mr. RADANOVICH, Mr. HOSTETTLER, Mr. SESSIONS, and Mr. KING of Iowa) introduced the following bill; which was referred to the Committee on Homeland Security

A BILL

To direct the Secretary of Homeland Security to construct
a fence along the southern border of the United States.
Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress
assembled,

SECTION 1. SHORT TITLE.

This Act may be cited as the `Border Security Improvement Act'.

SEC. 2. CONSTRUCTION OF FENCE ON SOUTHERN BORDER.

Section 102 of the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996 (8 U.S.C. 1103 note) is amended--

(1) by striking `Attorney General' each place such term appears and inserting `Secretary of Homeland Security';

(2) by redesignating subsections (c) and (d) as subsections (d) and (e), respectively;

(3) in subsection (b), by striking `subsection (d)),' and inserting `subsection (e)),'; and

(4) by inserting after subsection (b) the following:`(c) Construction of Fence on Southern Border-

`(1) IN GENERAL- In carrying out subsection (a), the Secretary of Homeland Security shall provide for the construction of a fence along the entire southern border of the United States.

`(2) AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS- There are authorized to be appropriated $2,000,000,000 to carry out paragraph (1).'.

And my longstanding question remains... how many hungry children could be fed with $2,000,000,000? Are strawberrys and inexpensive labor for jobs that we really don't want to do anyway presenting that much of a risk to National Security? To tell you the truth, were I to enter the United States for nefarious purposes, I'd cross at Niagra Falls. If I were trying to do so clandestinely I might drop myself offshore and enter on either coast.

But we'll have our own fence...

But I am only a fool...

What Can One Person Do?

2006-10-13T16:08:00.000-07:00

It feels self-indulgent to be writing about weight loss when the world has decided to take itself to hell in a hand basket. Anybody that knows me knows that my mind is generally working on more than one level. I think in terms of both the macrocosm and microcosm. All things in an organic system are tied together in a cause-effect relationship. Think about it: cancer begins as one cell. Healing can begin with one person. No, I am no megalomaniac: I have a healthy ego, but it is not that swelled. I believe that we are more powerful than we believe.

There are two basic mistakes that one can make cycling. Pick too big a gear, pick too small a gear. Put more plainly it is to overestimate or underestimate ability, capacity, resources, and so on. I’ve made the same errors riding. Pull too small a gear on a hill and your legs spin out, pull too big a gear and your legs burn out. I’ve done this as recently as miles 60-70 on the last century I rode. What I needed to know is realistically what I could do. I needed to know what I could and could not do. I needed to know my strengths and my weaknesses.

So what does this have to do with the systematic dismantling of civil liberties, the harm that the current administration is doing to the environment, the disparity between the rich and the poor? It means that I have incredible power to effect change. So do you. The greatest error is not to risk the life-change that is required to make change. It is a funny thing: The only way that I learned my limitations was to force myself to my physical resources end. I was so damn tired that I could hardly stand. I wondered, when was the last time I was so damn tired from the struggle for peace and justice that I could hardly stand. There was a time that I was not only an endurance athlete, but deeply involved in the struggle to make the world a better place by making my little corner into a better place altogether.

Once cell can begin a cancer that leads to the death of the organism; one person can begin the change that heals the world. I have an errand to run. I’ll take my bike rather than driving and save a bit of gas, get some exercise, and – almost as a side effect – do that small bit to heal the planet. It may be just a bit, but great things are made of such small bits.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

One Hundred and Two Miles

2006-10-12T17:13:00.000-07:00

There are times that a goal which is distance needs to have milestones, way-markers that allow a person to see progress toward a goal that is too distant to comprehend. For me, losing nearly sixty pounds is a goal that is too large to comprehend. Just losing weight can be easily accomplished. But that is really not the goal. The goal is good physical health. That means a change in lifestyle. Food, my favorite vice, needs to be seen differently. I can’t use food as comfort. I can enjoy my food, but I cannot become a glutton. Equally the word “exercise” had fallen out of my lexicon. It has to become part of lifestyle.

So, to make an attainable goal I decided to ride a century. That is one-hundred miles on my little bike. I did it, with a caveat. I rode over 100 miles, but did not complete the course. I took a wrong turn that resulted in my taking about 20 miles more than I should have before the second to last rest-stop. I found the second to last and realized that I should have been at 65 miles and was at 87. That would mean that I would ride over twenty miles over the distance of the century plus the 15 mile round trip to and from the staging area. I decided to use the SAG vehicle for the last part of the ride. Now, my 87 plus 15 was 102 miles. It was a century, but not the century that was defined.

I am doing it again in February. I made several mistakes on this ride. The Harvest Ride for Literacy was a course marked by serious hills (Category 1 Climbs: >5% grade for 6-12 miles). This was not a good “first century”. The worst of the hills were between miles 60 and 70. They really knocked the wind out of my sails. I truly believe that I could have finished the course, but would still be recovering from the physical stress placed on my body. I under-trained, especially on hills. In the past I was an excellent climber. At 6’1” and 185 pounds I could leg-press 650 to 700 pounds, on a bet I once got 800 pounds up (and never want to do that again!). Needless to say, hills were not an issue. I did serious weight work to get that power in my gams. Now I am not in a gym but am wondering about running and jump-rope.

What is the point of all of this athletic nonsense? It has to do with discipline to make a change in life. I am committed to this change, as I am to others. Riding a century is a metaphor for other achievement. Do you know how to ride a century? It is really simple. Get on the bike and turn the pedals for 100 miles, approximately 31,875 times at 85 rpm.

Ah, but I am only a more toned and thinner – 228 pounds! – fool!

A Thicker Fool than I Like

2006-09-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

There is comfort on my couch. It never says “no” to me and is always there to welcome me like a lost and well-loved friend would. It never judges me, but instead accepts me just as I am, or – more honestly – as I have allowed myself to become. My couch is my most enabling friend: my couch contributed to my allowing my once athletic frame to have become more than ample. I learned that, according to any definition, that I am obese. Obese. Obesity is something that this former endurance athlete could never in his wildest dreams have imagined as a fair description of himself. I have difficulty using the word in the first person. Here it is: I had become obese.

At my worst I weighed 245 pounds. I am six foot, one inch with a moderate frame. I should weigh 190 pounds to be on the high side of healthy. I was carrying 55 pounds more than I should have. Just to put that into perspective, to lose one pound of weight a body has to burn 3500 calories beyond what is necessary to take in to maintain life. To get to my healthy target, 188 pounds, I would have to burn 1,995,000 calories. [See correction below] Now, what causes me shame is this statistic: to maintain life, a person can do well on about 2000 calories per day. The calories that have gone into making me obese could have fed a person for 997.5 days. This is nourishment lost to a hungry world. The calories that must be burnt to lose my middle-age paunch could have sustained another for 2.7 years.

Here is another way to look at it: I love MacDonald’s Sausage Mac Muffins. They have 370 calories in each. The weight that I have put on is equivalent to 5,391 of these sandwiches, nibbling a bit on number 5,392. Now, what does a sausage Mac Muffin cost? I would tend to buy these when they were on sale two for $3.00. That is $8,088.00 in calories that just hang over my beltline and shorten my life. No, I am not blaming MacDonald’s. There is only one person ultimately responsible for my choices: Mea maxima culpa.

I’ve thought about this much. We use the image of obesity as a metaphor for our country’s hunger for oil. Yes, this needs to be changed. We need to wean ourselves from our gluttony for resources that harm our environment and create a gross disparity between rich and poor. But I have to start with me and my gluttony, for oil, for my little snacks, for all of these things that are comforting but ultimately deadly. Long term changes mean a change in life. These are more easily imagined than accomplished. It is one thing to have a lofty goal and quite another to be about the mundane activities that bring the goal to fruition. The difficulty is that milestones, way-markers, and accomplishment are measured not by one sudden explosion of accomplishment, but in imperceptibly small increments. Trend lines may waver, but the trend is what is important. Motion toward is the prolegomena to having crossed the line. I have decided to change my way of life to be healthy in all facets of life. I have made tentative steps in these directions and have retreated into the comfort in my less than salubrious lifestyle.

My couch is still my friend, but I have another friend that has been helpful to me, as well: My road-bike. I have lost 13 pounds toward my goal of 55. It is a start, a modest one, but it is a beginning. I am trying to ride at least 150 miles per week and have entered a Century, the Tour for Literacy (money raised goes toward local literacy efforts). I am still leaning how to eat less and how to find other means of comfort than my couch and snacks. There is no quick solution. I have begun to wonder how I can raise $8,000 or so for local hunger projects (that seems fair to replace what I consumed), but that is still in the dreaming stages.

Changes come, but they come in very small steps. And my couch still welcomes a slimmer frame, eating celery instead of cheese.

Ah, but I am only a fool...

Correction to the previous post: This proves that I am a better wordsmith than accountant! There is a gross error of addition in the above posting.
To lose one pound, a person has to burn 3500 calories beyond what is necessary to maintain current weight. In my case, I have to take in about 3600 calories per day to maintain my current weight. To lose about two pounds per week I have to burn at least 500 calories in exercise and cut out at least 500 calories in meals. So far so good...
Now to the error of fact... I was 57 pounds overweight. 57(3500) equals 199,500, not 1,995,000 as I noted!
So... 19950/370 calories in each Egg McMuffin equals 539 of the luscious atery cloggers, not the 5000+ that I noted. Still, that's lots of money for fat: $808.78.
Now... The calories that I have to lose could sustain a starving person for 100 days, not 2.7 years.
My errors in addition aside, the point remains... We have way too much and others have way too little. Maybe there is a realistic way to raise $1000.00 for local hunger. - tDF

The Fool is Back

2006-09-14T11:49:00.000-07:00

I took another hiatus from writing. In the past I have used my blog as a sort of on-line catharsis and place to share the world – which is entitled to my opinion! – to my meandering beliefs. I had come to a point where I had nothing to say. It is not that there was not much to think about, God knows that the current state of politics creates situations that are in and of themselves satiric. I just felt that I was needing to be silent for a bit.

The silence is broken, for better or worse.

There is an account in Genesis of the creation of the world: it begins in silence. That silence remains while all is formless and void; darkness caresses the waters and the winds whipped them into chaos. There was no commentary, simply the silence of God. And then God spoke…

That act of speaking was what began creation. It is significant that this is not creatio ex nihilo; it is an ordering of a preexistent, albeit chaotic, environment. God speaks and land appears, darkness and light are separated, and life is made possible. Language is too powerful to be trivialized. Words have power that we all too often underestimate. They create and destroy, even before violence and healing can occur.

For better or worse, the fool is back.

I Love Questionnaires

2006-03-22T17:11:00.000-08:00

I was reading Rolling Stone magazine and came across an advertisement that caught my eye. I am less impressed with the solicitation to apply for yet another credit card (more on that subject later) as I was with the format. I thought that this would make a good entry to return to the on-line community following the somewhat disjointed series of postings that I’ve made since January, when I moved.

My Name: Pablo

Childhood Ambition: To be a studio musician or a rider in the Tour de France; I also recall dreaming about singlehanding a Luders 30 around the world.

Soundtrack: Whatever I am listening to at the moment… too much good music to limit myself to one type. If I had to select one type of music it would be either Jazz (Bebop or Free Jazz), Seventies Rock, Blues, or the Beatles.

Retreat: My mind. Wherever I am, I can take refuge in my strong imagination. Sometimes, though, it is hard to come out. I can become very insular, even passive. The downside is that my mind and inner world can become as sheltered as a tomb. That is the problem; it becomes a terminal rest, passivity is the hallmark of death.

Wildest Dream: This is where I cease to be ironic and become simply contradictory! My wildest dream is to be more proactive, less passive and to find the passion that used to drive me.

Proudest Moment: My proudest moment was when I first looked at my daughter, R, when she was born. There she was, a perfect little person that I swore to love beyond all things. She is my love and life. So is A, my younger daughter.

Biggest Challenge: Life

Perfect Day: Has eluded me.

First Job: Clean up boy at Galletti’s Fine Meats. I learned about beautiful food there, all the while cleaning up an Italian Butcher Shop.

Indulgence: Maybe my problem is that I don’t indulge myself!

Last Purchase: Here is a thriller: Kitty litter and two mice for Cuddles (my snake).

Favorite Movie: It would be a tie between Chinatown and Talk to Her.

Inspiration: To be a man worthy of my children’s love.

My life: is improvised well beyond the changes played.

DSL Has Been Down

2006-03-16T15:16:00.000-08:00

I'm writing from my desk at school. My DSL has been down and I have not been able to post for the past several weeks. I never realized how much I've come to depend on the interenet for everything: work, fun, bills, research. Not having access to the web has been like having an arm incapacitated: I miss reading blogs, playing my games, listening to music, and so on. I have been tied to my desk because I cannot access information from a remote site. Worst of all is not being able to access email. This is supposed to be resolved today, and I am looking forward to reconnection. It has been "iffy" since the end of January. I miss my DSL.

Treasure in Earthen Vessles?

2006-02-25T19:40:00.000-08:00

I was a Lutheran Pastor for nearly twenty years. I have several years of advanced theological training. I feel competent in making a critique of what often passes as the Christian faith. I do not pretend to speak for any denomination. My thoughts are mine alone.

Personal Salvation?
I am disturbed by the idea that the event of the Christ was simply to effect personal salvation. It would be ignorant to dismiss the centrality of the incarnation in Christian theology; indeed, St. Paul speaks eloquently of God’s value of the individual as the object of grace. While much of the NT speaks about the establishment of a covenant viz a vie the sacraments as a participatory metaphor that symbolizes the salvific intention of God, it is not the end of the intention of this divine metaphor: salvation is the beginning, not the end, of the eschatological reality.

What is the eschatological imperative? It is to be Christ for the world. I am not speaking the double-talk of the new age self-justification. To my mind, this is spiritual masturbation: so much self-pleasure with no love or intention of sharing community. To be Christ for the world is to lose one’s self for the sake of the world. This is what the myth of the incarnation of the logos bespeaks: God comes into the world to be broken by the sin – becoming the curse – that even the deepest fractures of the human heart may be healed by the brokenness of the Christ. As Christ is raised, so to shall humanity be raised in the likeness of the Christ. It is significant that the risen Christ still bears the prints of the nails: the wounds did not heal; they remain as Christ returns to bear the brokenness of humanity to the perfection that is God. This act perfects God and gives birth to hope where once there was despair. Why, then, do we speak of personal salvation? Look at the myths of the fall. Our individual parents were cast out of the garden, out of a place of harmony and peace. Individuals must be welcomed back to the garden if they are to live lives that are not bound up in their lust for their own welfare.

Lust for Self-Preservation
Gandhi was a rather pointed critic of the Christian religion: “Oh, I don't reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It's just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ." I do not believe that Gandhi is the ultimate arbitrator of the truth of Christianity. I do believe that it is a fair critique of the practice of the faith in Western Culture. The Christian religion is not a doctrinal system as much a covenant between God and humanity, a promise made between the lover and the beloved.

The crux of the faith is to be free from the need to be saved. If I am free from myself, I am free to be love for others, especially for the unloved.

This is the key article of the doctrine of the incarnation: God transcends God’s self to be for humanity. In this way, the individual is freed from self-preservation to be for the other. Sadly, this has not been the case for most of the history of the Christian faith. Much of the faith becomes an article of self-justification and thus a sullen caricature of itself.

God is Love
I have, for years, been haunted by a small – only five short chapters worth – epistle in the NT, First John. In this short letter the author, an anonymous writer influenced by St. John’s mysticism, writing about 90-120 C.E., writes the words: beloved, let us love one another… for God is love. The proof of faith is not intellectual ascent. The proof of faith is love for one another. And this love is not limited to those that share our faith, it is not a love that excludes, but seeks to love all as sons and daughters of the same parent. So this say? It tells me that there is none that can be outside of the love of a God that has become broken for the sake of love. That is a profound realization, one that changes the self with the beautiful and terrible knowledge of God.

The difficulty with truth is that once you have encountered it you are changed. You can no longer claim ignorance and are now held hostage by its demand to change.

I believe this is why most Christians have degraded the depth of their creed and have settled for a lesser eschatology; another word for this is original sin. We have made God over in our own image; we have made God into a source for my eternal life without considering the depth of love that drove the eternal to embrace the now. Consider that most Christian evangelism says nothing of a duty in love to care for the needs of all flesh. If God is love, and we are the disciples of the Christ, how, then, can we stand apart from this demand to love all? This terrible truth means death, not eternal life.

Justification by Grace through Faith
God justifies, that is God puts us right. We are free from the need to be for ourselves. Faith, then, is the act of living as if we are free. It is the strong word of God that says no to all that would imprison us, including wealth and self-satisfaction. That I would have criticized the so-called theologians of liberation for their confusion of ethics and eschatology. Now I am not so certain that this is a valid critique. I do not believe that we are the force that brings the Kingdom of God to the earth. I believe that we act as if God reigns and that God’s reign is defined by love. Dostoyevsky put it well when he wrote: “hell is the inability to love.” Augustine, as well, when he said, “Thou beholdst the Trinity when thou beholdest love: for the lover, the beloved, and the love are three.”

This is why I am not a Christian. I love the Christian myth, but feel that this is beyond me. I believe, help my unbelief. I think that too much dilution has taken place. We have lost ourselves in a sea of things and self-satisfaction, on both the materialistic and metaphysical levels. Perhaps Gandhi was right: there are precious few Christians. Prayer has to be transformed into action. Creed has to find articulation in life. Poetry has to become the muse that inspires life, like YHWH playing with the dust, forming it into a body and inbreathing life and then declaring love for the dirt that had infinitely greater potential than dirt could imagine. It became the dwelling place of the logos. Perhaps it is a treasure in an earthen vessel?

From It to Thou - Part 2

2006-02-21T22:05:00.000-08:00

Beyond the First Person Singular
Forgive the awkward grammatical image: What has hurt us and has created us is the drive to assert “my” right to live over and against “your” right. Buber would have called this an “I/It” relationship. The other is a means to an end, an obstacle to overcome. Think about the epithets of warfare. The enemy is never thought of as human. The enemy is a “gook,” “heretic,” “nigger,” “fag,” and so on. The uglier the epithet, the greater the fear. Really, what have to fear in each other? Why do we need to be the greatest at the expense of the other? I would suggest it is our fear of extinction that drives the engine of hatred.

So Why Are We So Afraid?
I am amazed at the cost of warfare; finances aside – money has no value except that which we have assigned to it – the real cost of warfare is in lives lost. There is precious little that is worth anything: We have time and our life, nothing more. We use resources and leave a legacy of consumption in our wake. We cling to life with terrible tenacity, but will as quickly dispose of life. What has struck such fear in our hearts? Why are we so afraid?

I think that it is part of our evolutionary imprinting that has made us into creatures defined by competition. We are accustomed to the struggle. We long for the bitterness of victory and defeat. Life devolves into a win/lose dichotomy. Competition, from my limited perspective, bespeaks fear. We compete because we are afraid of loss. I do not accept the notion that competition drives progress. That makes for good capitalism, as it implies a profit and loss equation: somebody wins; somebody else loses. The cycle is not ascending: it is circular. Times and names have changed. The periphery has been altered, but the essential equation of hunter and hunted remains. We remain in fear of a perceived enemy that shares more in common with us than we dare to imagine. In a real sense, we are afraid of ourselves. The mirror frightens us.

Is Conflict the Only Impetus to Evolution?
Conflict has, without a doubt, created intelligence. Consider the predator: predatory animals must be intelligent. They have to rely not only on the weapons at their disposal, but an innate intelligence that allows them to hunt, capture, and consume their prey. The idea of a food-chain has driven evolution, especially human evolution. We developed from a simple ape that began to develop tools, later developing a brain that allowed the creation of theology, art, philosophy. But is this the only impetus?

I posit that the next evolutionary development is one that moves beyond confrontation with our fear. The ultimate fear is of our own finitude. We face the immensity of a universe that is both infinite and infinitesimal and find that we occupy a very small bit of space and time. We are momentary expressions of life that possess self-awareness. To overcome our fear of finitude is to accept the reality of our own extinction. This is not an issue of God. It is an issue of acceptance of a godless universe that is beyond our comprehension.

God, Religion, and the Spirit
It is almost an excurses that is necessitated: it is not that I do not believe in God, I do not believe in the God that is the necessary parent for lost and fearful children. There are moments when even the most courageous of us requires a moment of spiritual comfort. This having been said, I do not believe that a world come of age – to borrow a phrase from Dietrich Bonhoeffer – requires a God that is there to hold humanity’s hand as it crosses the street. What God, then, do we worship in a godless universe? I believe in God as the ultimate source of all life and as the connection that holds us in a community that exists in space/time. I find great beauty in the myth of the incarnation: a God that transcends the eternal glory to experience the finitude of the creation (using that term advisedly). This is the God that seeks to lead by experience of the most deeply seeded human fears. This embrace of our fear allows God to be the God that both is and exists. A humanity that has come of age requires a myth that allows us to face the darkness as adults.

God becomes human. The eternal become finite. Our minds allow us to imagine an infinity and beyond (apologies to Georg Cantor) and in so doing suggests that we, at least in the realm of imagination – intuition? – move beyond what is merely sensed and can only be spoken of as metaphor. The human mind embraces the infinite and infinitesimal. In so doing it embraces that which can drive the next great cycle of evolution: an awareness of a common destiny with the whole of the cosmos, God and creation meeting in the arena of the mind.

I AM an Introvert… And Glad for It.

2006-02-10T19:15:00.000-08:00

We introverts are a put-upon clan. We live in a world of noise, cluttered by the racket made by a world that confuses content with quantity: verbiage rather than substance. We are not shy, just reserved. We are not without social skills, indeed ours have to be more finely honed as we live in a world that is, by its nature, hostile toward our preferred way of being in the world. However, why would we care what the world thinks? Our impressions are born within and do not seek to be validated from without. It is good to be an introvert. Moreover, not only an introvert, but also an INTP. Damn, life is good.

Jung’s Typology of Personality
I am a proud INTP. Yes, we are the rarest of people. We are those whose motivation is drawn purely from within. We live in a world of intuition, able to think in terms of metaphor and to see shades of meanings. We live in a rich world of thought and we see endless possibilities. We are the dreamers, the creators, the philosophers and the architects. Ours is a world of potential that does not require us to be tied to any dogma or any tradition. I like the Webster definition of introvert: “the state or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life.”

It seems that the artistic mediums to which I have been most attracted – photography and music – are the sine qua non of the INTP. It is not surprising that I prefer music that is harmonically iconoclastic (Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, Gerry Mulligan) to music that is linear or predictable. I like Satie because his music just doesn’t care about expectations. It is for its own sake on its own terms. Very much as I am.

Socially Astute
I have always said that introverts live in two cultures; the larger extroverted American culture and, what is more important, the culture of our minds. I have learned to be very flexible, how to speak and survive in an extroverted world, all the time wondering if they have ever savored a moment of silence in their lives full of noise that they confuse for content. I wonder how they live in the din and how they can parse out what is valuable for the excess of verbiage. I know how to speak and how to live in the world, so much so that many people think that I am extroverted. But my energy is drawn from within. I love a moment alone, to listen to Bach on the cello or enjoy a beautiful poem. It is not that we are anti-social; I think that we are anti-intrusion.

I admit that I have a mighty need of time alone. This feeds my soul and allows me to find the energy to be in a world of sensory assault.

I am an introvert, and proud. I am self-sufficient without falling into the myth of the solipsism. I am able to be with others and content to be alone. I am the paradox. I am an introvert.

What does life mean?

2006-01-30T16:23:00.000-08:00

lI teach high school special education. Today, in health class, I asked my class to tell me what is the meaning of life. This is a hard question, one that has flummoxed wiser people than me for generations. Here are some thoughts that my kids shared in their papers today.

Some of Your Ideas About the Meaning of Life.

“…I’m afraid of dying young and I also like to make my parents happy.”

“I will not regret my life at all. I need to know myself. Who am I?”

“The purpose of life? The question confuses me.”

“Most people hate life. I don’t; I love life. I think everyone should live life to the fullest every day.”

“The meaning of life is going to school and having fun…”

“I want to live my parents’ dream, to be someone in life.”

“…you never know what can happen, you might end up dead and in a ditch.”

“The purpose of my life is for others. I’m afraid to die. I wish I can be young forever.”

“I see no meaning in life or living because I regret my life… All I do is deal with it.”

“I think the purpose [of life] is to help people that need help or to talk to… a lot of people tell me I am an angel because I am there for someone when they need someone…”

“…to go to heaven.”

There seem to be a few nascent philosophers in the class!
-tDF

On Hiatus

2006-01-23T18:56:00.000-08:00

I am in the process of moving to a new and more beautiful place. Even though I live in a small apartment, it is a lot to pack! Shall be in touch in February.
- tDF

A thought for those of you still reading from Monty Python. I want this song sung at my funeral. I don't want a religious service; I want a really good party with great food, great drink, great music and this song.

Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown
And things seem hard or tough
And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft
And you feel that you've had quite eno-o-o-o-o-ough

Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And revolving at nine hundred miles an hour
That's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned
A sun that is the source of all our power
The sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at forty thousand miles an hour
Of the galaxy we call the Milky Way

Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars
It's a hundred thousand light-years side to side
It bulges in the middle sixteen thousand light-years thick
But out by us it's just three thousand light-years wide
We're thirty thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point
We go 'round every two hundred million years
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe

The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whiz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know
Twelve million miles a minute and that's the fastest speed there is
So remember when you're feeling very small and insecure
How amazingly unlikely is your birth
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth

See you all after the move to my new place, on the beach in Ventura!

An Interlude: Stream of Consciousness

2006-01-19T22:29:00.000-08:00

one hundred suits all the same to be worn on consecutive years until they wear out or until I do and I shall buy several bumbershoots so I may be arrayed like a proper gentleman ready in the face of the rain that falls eric satie and ambient music speaking not to the immediate consciousness but to that which dwells behind words ambient is not necessary background but context And I shall drink absinthe dancing with the green fairy communing with the images that only the wormwood and the gall can reveal those dark murky moments in the subconscious Ahmet and Nesuhi Ertegun The Mess Around Ray Charles and Ornette Coleman COLTRANE Yes Coletrane spoke the truth about God, life, death, and discovery of a meaning beyond Satie Yes and I will wear my suits and walk in the rain wondering where I left my keys and if I am in key or if my life is a syncopated stumble where others march never hearing never hearing never hearing the beat of a different drummer I saw a young man taped to a tree the other day Several students watched him as he was bound I cut him free from his bounds with my car key It should havebeenamomentofgreatermeaning but meaning is as meaning does, so Aristotle would have it so much of how we think is posited in what is effected at the expense of affect – a child drumming her fingers in the dark sauntering and singing at the top of her lungs in a casual blues on a Thursday afternoon while the moon is full and high in the sky how horrible that the sun shone in the middle of the night, ruining our fun and that was odd if a maid swept with all her might; if I slept through all the night if you were not consumed with such dreadful fright I needed to do a load of dishes and clean my shoes I should have done laundry but I drank a glass of wine instead this young man was taped with binding tape to a tree nobody asked the tree what it thought – can we discern the deepest thoughts of plants and trees I was reading my cookbook I just thought to take a break to sauté a mushroom or to learn to use a program on my computer –is software the same as a program – I like the Japanese Iron Chef better Julia Childs meets Hulk Hogan lamb battle Chairman Kaga and Sakai dancing with poulet frances to a danse macabre complete with fiddle folk music enfusing life lost in stale classicism are all innovations considered to be vulgar at first who is to say what makes I love venison but could never hurt Bambi’s mother art and who is to say how art develops into a style that is discernable call it a double standard but it is as it is or is it as it does who does is done will do will have done started a dialog in cyberspace with people that I don’t know but call friends intimate strangers dancing in the dark on the back of electrons to music unknown that exists without the benefit of sound is music sound or is sound the metaphor a similie an image of paradise lost found mortgaged and mamachinationsandlostdesirefindingthattheyarelostyetagainde accessible but only experiential but will not climb the cats jump and meow they want food but god gave them music and they did feast and sing and celebrated the beauty of communication beyond the bounds of species but went with insatiated longing unrequited hunger like unrequited love is a bitter thing yet beautiful unless your heart is broken Like a sonata for strings played out of tune no longer well tempered as a clavier but broken like my heart shattered like class on a sidewalk slicing the flesh and leaving blood behind a print of one that has passed this way before a sly shadow that stands between death and life calling us to question what is real and what is or is not on a Thursday morning howling at the moon with a madman holding a lantern at noon shining it in my face telling the truth that there is no truth – contradiction paradox parabolic reasoning reflection refraction reality reason gone awry Words And the rest is silence like Chaucer on the streets the wife of bath in rap bitch use vulgarisms in place of thought and profanity in the stead of wit what is art if not offense what is obscenity if not a break from the norm a devaluation of valued cliches apotheosis of necrophilia and lust for a glorious past that never was howling at the moon like a loon with a spoon singing out of tune and sinning against the will of a god unknown that makes agnostics of us all can we ever really know was Heizenburg right how can observe the truth if emperical method changes the experience and experiment and then there is the issue of my shoes yes I will buy one hundred suits all the same to be worn on consecutive years until they wear out and I shall buy several bumbershoots so I may be arrayed like a proper gentleman ready in the face of the rain that falls

From It to Thou - Part 1

2006-01-14T12:35:00.000-08:00

Maybe Hegel was onto something when he suggested that history is cyclical. He tended to see this as an evolution, a development to a higher consciousness that moved from East to West. From Asia to Europe, the development of humanity, pace Hegel grows from superstition into philosophy, from basic implements to technology. I have never been overly enamoured of Hegel: I do believe that history is cyclical, but I find it difficult to equate progress with the passing of time.

Santayana and Willful Ignorance
“Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." The question is not whether we have become cleverer, but whether we have become wiser. I am typing on a computer. I recall a time when a computer called the Univac was used to forecast the outcome of the 1964 presidential election. Bearing in mind that I was a very young fool at this time, I was struck by the faith in technological progress that was being touted at the execution of a good statistical model and a machine the size of a small building that ran the calculations. Truly, there has been little progress in the theory of computers. The basic theory remains the same: a switch is turned off or turned on. What has changed is the application of the theory. We have become more proficient at turning switches off and on. We have miniaturized and hastened the process. But the process itself remains much the same as it was when the first computers were conceived.

What we have missed is the ability to develop morally and spiritually. I will make a statement that may sound cynical: I do not believe that we are physically capable of moving beyond the immediately perceived pragmatic need of the faction of humanity that is in power. We have developed – evolved? – as predators. The act of predation is to find weakness and to exploit it to the advantage of our faction, our tribe, our need. Identity, power, and intelligence have all been as deeply seeded as our DNA to create us as we are. St. Augustine would have called this original sin: hubris and egoism that disallow selflessness. I am not convinced that history is a process of evolution. I believe that it is a cycle of destruction and rebirth that will continue until we ultimately destroy ourselves. It is not a lack of intelligence. It is a lack of vision that will be our demise.

Conflict that Drives Evolution
The study of history is a study of conflict. This is a given that requires little amplification. The engine that drives progress was defined when we were little more than small apes in competition for limited resources; we ate meat and the proteins caused our brains to grow so we could learn to hunt, kill and eat more meat. This biological necessity has become the mother of warfare, capitalism, politics, religion, and even philosophy. All are predicated on a conflict of needs and opinions, competing visions of meaning or competing for a scrap of food: progress remains a process of elimination, just as definition is a process of exclusion.

The great irony of humanity is our ability to live a nightmare and to dream such dreams of beauty and wonderment. It is the gap between day and night that causes our darkest fears to drive our lives while our deepest dreams remain unrealized. Who among us, liberal or conservative be damned, does not want to live a life of peace and joy? And yet we cling tenaciously to penultimate and finally insufficient dogmas that serve to promulgate the evolutionary conflict. There will be one winner. And when that last person is standing, she or he, too, will die. For what? A doctrine? A life-style?

Diogenes’ Lantern
I have shone the light of Diogenes’ lantern on my face and I have to say that I have failed the test, too. I am not such a cynic as all of this implies. The fact that I dare to dream, and belong to a species that dreams, says that there is yet hope. The evolutionary imperative toward competition must be altered. The competition has to presuppose that there is one humanity. We are not liberal, conservative, communist or capitalist. We are not of a race or of a sexual proclivity. We are human, first, last, and always.

What does history teach us, what is the lesson that we must learn and have, as a whole, failed to grasp? I will be presumptuous and hazard a guess: It is to see that we share a common destiny.

Beyond the First Person Singular
Forgive the awkward grammatical image: What has hurt us and has created us is the drive to assert “my” right to live over and against “your” right. Buber would have called this an “I/It” relationship. The other is a means to an end, an obstacle to overcome. Think about the epithets of warfare. The enemy is never thought of as human. The enemy is a “gook,” “heretic,” “nigger,” “fag,” and so on. The uglier the epithet, the greater the fear. Really, what have to fear in each other? Why do we need to be the greatest at the expense of the other?

More to Life than Sex

2006-01-10T21:21:00.000-08:00

I HAVE BEEN AMAZED At the number of hits that my blog has gotten in the past several weeks. A quick perusal of the search strings shocked me, however. There are folks that love poetry and have searched poems that I have quoted. There are those that have searched liberal politics, social ethics, and other ideals that I hold dear. The most active referrer was, by far, was this: http://www.blogwise.com/search?q=sex. Yikes.

Keywords Chosen Quickly
I suppose that I could have been more circumspect when I selected the keywords to associate with my blog on Blogwise. I put “sex” on the list naively. I was thinking that this is part of being human. My blog is an exploration of my humanity: of loving and loss, of politics and play. It was never intended to be an erotic blog. I have no difficulty with eroticism. Sex is good; it is full of emotional connections and has deep spiritual overtones. It is no mistake that all religious traditions have much to say about it. As a theologian, sex is a natural area for thought and discussion. Nevertheless, this is not porn! Out of twenty-five referrals today, 21 of them had to do with sex. I can only imagine what type of dance the fool might be doing!

In all fairness, let’s look at all of the keywords that I listed: music, life, sex, philosophy, god, mid-life, rock, jazz, death, theology, blues. Music and life were ahead of sex. Philosophy and God also got listed, right up there with mid-life, rock, jazz, death, theology and the blues. There has got to be a song in this. I think that in my mid-life that I am facing a curious turn in the road. But, come on people… sex is fun to do. Reading about it is just not the same. Besides, who wants to read about the sexual misadventures of a 48-year-old high school teacher? Who even wants to think about their high-school teachers having sex? I just did it (no you perves… not sex!), I just changed the keywords to read “liberal” where sex was and to include “politics” before “philosophy”.

Desire and the Will to Power
I think that the interest in sex as a prurient theme has to do with power and domination. The language of competition is used (scoring). Much of the language surrounding sex is violent (banging, screwing) and ultimately dehumanizing (doing him/her, getting some). The person becomes an object of an action rather than a participant in a shared experience. This is true whether a person is trying to dominate or control or is being humiliated and seeking to be controlled.

Control is predicated on a need and a desire to feed the ego. This differs from asserting one’s humanity. To assert humanity is to find joy in being physical, spiritual, intelligent, and in community. This means that we also recognize and celebrate our fellow humans. Some is sexual, to be certain. Most is not. Power is not evil. A will to dominate is and is ultimately a sign of weakness and fear. Love casts out fear. Love is powerful stuff. Make love, not war.

There is nothing wrong with physical pleasure. The question that needs to be asked is whether my pleasure is hurtful to another. This is as true for the food that I eat as it is for the people with whom I am physically intimate. It is a myth to say that my body is mine alone. It is the means by which I live in community and through which I encounter other people. We are somatic spirits. It is simply inconceivable to say that my physicality is divorced from my humanity or from others.

Happiness and Joy
These two words have regularly found their ways into my musings. While they are similar there is a significant difference in nuance and derivation: happiness has to do with luck, happenstance. Joy has an object and finds itself in relation to something or someone else. Happiness is concerned with luck and good fortune; it tends to pander to the ego. Joy reaches beyond the ego to stand in relation to another.

People, there is more to life than sex. There is joy.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Another Meander, Another Turn in the Stream

2006-01-02T23:28:00.000-08:00

SL called. We spoke for about an hour. She was slightly tipsy, a factor that generally leads to her calling me. Our conversations have a well-worn trajectory. We talk. I ask how she is. She tells me how unsatisfied she is with her partner. One of us makes an off color joke. We recall how passionate our intimate life was and we make an arrangement for a tryst. Tonight was different: I told her I was moving in with CN.

The Heart Has Always Eluded Me
SL and I had taken a break from our moments of desperately trying to cling to a relationship that was unsustainable. She was involved with another guy and wanted to see if it could work with him. I had been with MM and wanted that to work. There had been interim moments, but they had tapered off since I became serious and then when she did as well. But there was so much more than mere sex with familiar flesh: there was fire, hot and totally consuming fire. We made love when we following the filing of our divorce decree. We made love that made the gods envy our flesh. Our coupling was the stuff of which primal myths were spoken in tones of reverence and longing.

We could not, however, sustain the relationship. Like Chronos and his offspring, our passion, and the chaos it created, consumed our future.

I have thought much of SL of late. She sometimes haunts my dreams. I know that on my deathbed that I can say, “I was once adored…” But like so much that we adore, desire becomes an unrequited longing that becomes a dull ache in the heart. SL and I were not able to make it work. She was often dishonest with me; I was often unkind to her. We both share the blame for our demise and both have, in her words, “our fingerprints on each others’ hearts.” We loved deeply. We were also fatally flawed.

She made the comment that this is the bar that has been set for any other relationship. I know better. I never want for that to happen again. There was too much that happened that was hurtful. Too much pain. Too much grief. Too much fire, not enough water. God knows that I tried to bring us back together. She never intended to return. But she did, and as quickly left.

Loving and Loss
I know that I have written somewhere in these entries that whomever said that it is better to have loved and lost never lost at love. I am beginning to think that all love is loss. We lose ourselves in love and call it passion and wonderment. We lose ourselves again when it dies and we call it grief and pain. We lose ourselves with the hope of finding ourselves and in this endanger our souls. We play the game, gambling with our very hearts and spirits hoping that, against all odds, we might find that person who is the mirror to our souls. I thought MM was. I thought SL was. I thought KJS was. Indeed, I am learning that there is no “other self.” There is only the hope that we can love and be loved.

There was a time when I would have said that I have a talent for loving women that cannot or will not be with me. Readers of this blog have only to run a quick search of this blog, reading what I wrote about MM to see how true this is.

I have always longed to be loved. I can become Freudian and postulate that it is an extension of my inner child not having been loved. I can talk about the strange life that my mother and father created for me; seeing a marriage that was dysfunctional on a good day and dangerous on a bad one, having that as my pattern for intimacy. No, I think that gives too much power to my family of birth. I am a romantic. I long to care for somebody and to be cared for. Mutuality: Ah, there’s a word full of historical significance in this Fool’s autobiography.

Mutually Yours
LAP, early in our relationship, signed a Christmas card “Mutually Yours.” She was nineteen, I was twenty-two. We had dated for such a short time and wanted to be in love. We paired off and built a marriage on a chimera of a foundation: the irony is that there was no mutuality in our relationship. I was the air; she was the earth. I was a butterfly; she was a creature of the earth, seeking safety in its dark caress. There was noting mutual. We remained together for 11 years and several months when it came crashing to the earth. She accused me of an infidelity that never happened. That was her escape. No matter: Neither of us was faithful. We were monogamous, but we did not keep faith with one another. For the record, I was not intimate with KR until after our marriage failed, and that was following a drunken evening that began by our bemoaning how our marriages had failed and ended with each other awkwardly in the other’s arms. Mutually yours? What a laugh.

Sex, Drugs, and Rock’n’roll
“Wine, women, and song…” Just a classy way of saying, “Drugs, sex, rock,’n’roll.” I tried that, too. I broke my twenty-five year hiatus from grass a few years ago. I rarely smoke now, though on occasion I spark up. I used sex as my favorite drug, but it did little to mask the pain. Music… there is a balm for my soul. I rediscovered music. I was never a great player, but I love what music does for my spirit. It is my best medicine, by voice, and the language of my heart. CN “gets” music. More than just being a player, she “gets” it. She knows jazz. She knows classical music. She plays bluegrass and loves blues.

It is time to move beyond the hot fire of all-consuming passion. It is time to build a life. It is time to do something new, to find a new song and learn to sing it well.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Checking Up on the Last Year

2005-12-30T00:07:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-21T10:46:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-17T16:56:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-10T07:45:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-06T00:46:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-04T23:50:00.000-08:00

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?

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?

2005-12-02T00:22:00.000-08:00

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...

2005-11-30T00:30:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-28T22:26:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-27T14:05:00.000-08:00

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...

2005-11-23T14:36:00.000-08:00

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?

2005-11-11T14:43:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-07T22:33:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-05T11:53:00.000-08:00

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?

2005-09-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-09-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-04T23:35:00.000-07:00

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.

Life Finds a Way

2005-09-01T23:31:00.000-07:00

My friend MAS has a favorite saying from Deepak Chopra: “Life finds a way.” I do not know the context of the quote. I like the idea that the simple, unadorned thought communicates to me: “Don’t sweat it dude; life is powerful stuff, it will find a way.”

An Indomitable Desire to Live

Life is stubborn stuff. It adapts and creates new possibilities to make itself possible. It is as if it wills itself into being and continuing to be. Life finds a way. It does not let go, but looks for the options that take the disheartening situations and turn them to its advantage. Darwin called it “natural selection.” Adaptation, the willingness to change and modify one’s self, is what makes life possible. The only absolute is the will to be. The rest is context. If science teaches us anything about life it is that overspecialization leads to extinction. Niche species, for all their charm and beauty, are dependent upon one set of variables, one food source, one environment. They die out quickly as the situation changes. Soon they are supplanted by other species that can make the leap.

I wonder why we, as a people, have apotheosized a style of life and canonized its claims in language that is nearly liturgical. We forget that it was our willingness to move beyond a set perimeter that allowed us to develop and to create new things. Hardship only creates opportunity for creativity. We descend from predators. Predation assumes intelligence. Intelligence is predicated upon creativity. It is the ability to see and advantage and exploit it in a situation that seems hopeless that creates a lust to live that must be satisfied.

In the immortal words of Chumba Wamba, “I get knocked down, but I get up again/ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me down…” Life finds a way.

Moving Beyond the Past

It seems that the hardest port to disembark is memory. The dock lines seem not to completely be released as we set sail into the dark unknown of the future. All of our hopes and dreams, our fears and prejudices, our love and hatred follow in one form or another. Moving beyond the past does not mean a disengagement from the past. It does mean that it no longer becomes the determining factor in the trajectory of life. The Christian church called this redemption and forgiveness. Pity it could never really practice these cardinal virtues, seeking instead to dwell in sin and guilt. But that is another posting for another day. Forgiveness: there is a powerful concept. It is key to setting sail from the past into the reality of this moment.

Forgiveness is the recognition of falling short of the mark. It is that simple. We all miss the target, we all fail. We get up again and start over. Failure does not become our legacy or our destiny; it is the opportunity to create a new way that propels us into the future with is wondrous dreams and terrible nightmares. We move on. We admit our fault and make do to do better. Beyond this forgiveness is the recognition of the same in others. They fail us. They fall short. But they try again to fix the problem. There is the crux of the thing: it is not simply enabling the same behavior as destiny, it is moving beyond into a new thing. Throw off the lines and dare to face the future. This is the only way that anything can live.

History?

I am, by training and temperament, a historian. This means that I am a patient man that has listened to the past but will not be imprisoned by it. The past is the pavement on the road to the future. It makes clear how we will arrive, it is not the destination. I learn from the past. I’ve made mistakes and, hopefully, have learned from them. I am not a prisoner to how the past played out. Santayana was correct: we study history to avoid its repetition. But I would go beyond: we study history to fulfill its hope.

Personal history is part of my motivation with the Dancing Fool. It is a way to set markers and to see where I am going and where I have to correct my course. I looked back to a posting about a year ago. Last year at this time I wrote that I was “Rounding the Bend.” That semester presented problems but it was finally a success. It brought me to this moment. History is like the stream of karma: each moment touch the next leading us to the present and into the future. But this awareness of the future cannot be allowed to severe our ties to the now if we are to live authentically. I know this to be true for me.

Here and Now

I remember my ninth grade English teacher, Mr. Peterson. He asked us to write a series of “Here and Now” observations. That assignment was in summer, before school nearly 35 years ago. “Here and now I see…” was the assignment. It forced me to begin to see, not merely to look at, my environment. It began the understanding that this moment is all that I really have. The past is memory, the future a dream. I live in my perception of the now. It is all I have. It is the moment that has to be embraced.

This realization allowed me to see that a life well lived in this moment makes for a life authentically lived. And it is true: Life finds a way…

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Flavor of the Month at Krispy Kreme

2005-08-29T17:39:00.000-07:00

Hey... We're not all this bad!

Source: http://www.doonesbury.com/ - 29 August 2005

I've read some blogs that are pretty inane. I've read some that are things of beauty. I've read some that are theme oriented. I have a blog that lists information for my students to reach on the 'web. Yeah, there are some that are pretty bad. But there are others that are artistic and inspirational.

Seems to me that the "blogosphere" is as eclectic as are the bloggers that muse and post their thoughts on the web for all to read.

No, we are not all nut-cases, conspiracy theorists, or even doughnut fanatics. We are a part of the human experience. And like all authors, our work is incomplete until completed by the reader (apologies to Umberto Ecco).

Live, Laugh, and Love!
- tDF

Review of Goals for this Year

2005-08-27T17:36:00.000-07:00

In January of this year I wrote the following:

Thinking about what the priorities should be, the following come to mind:

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.

That is a heady list. I think that I have to do some realistic planning that takes into account time necessary, resources, and who needs to be involved. That is the hard one for me; I need to be a bit more pragmatic here.

I have made some discernible progress toward my goals. Most notably has been securing employment with the school district that I wanted to work for. This also moves me much closer to working within a budget and meeting obligations without as much stress.

I have always been good about doing acts of kindness for others. Spiritual development is still a bit of a sore spot. I have been invited - generally by well-meaning fundamentalists - to visit their churches. I try to be polite and gently decline the invitation. I have no desire to be part of a formal faith community at this time in my life. I have wondered about finding some spiritual connection, but I still have a good deal of Lutheran blood coursing through my veins; I have little toleration for cosmic fluff (of any variety).

Music and personal relationships remain the neglected parts of the equation. Music is hard to do when instruments become a source of income. I need to redeem those that are unavailable and return to concerted practice. I have been taking lessons on guitar. That has been helpful, though I will bow out of that for a month or so. Personal relationships... not now. Anybody that has read this blog can see the trail of tears left behind following a year and one-half of a painful relationship. I don't want to perseverate on that one. I thought that she was the "one". She wasn't. She began to have serious issues in November and refused to accept help offered. I don't know what happened to her that she became so greedy and selfish. I hope, for her sake, that she gets over it. As for me, I am done with her. I want never to see her again and to move on.

Looking back is a helpful exercise. It has been a tough year, but a good one. And I am ever hopeful that life is good.

Ah, but I am only a fool...

Miscellany

2005-08-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

It has been a busy week. My stress level has been high, but for good reasons. I began teaching at a new high school, the flagship school in my district. I am thrilled to be there, but like any change, it comes with no small amount of stress. I have been doing well with my classes. I have five preps, though. This started with my working with the vocational education program; one that I have unique qualifications to work for. Then, as if to say that nothing can go too smoothly, my portfolio was changed and I got two science (!) classes. I am teaching English, Algebra, Earth and Life Sciences, and a study hall and study habits class. I have a degree in History. What is missing from my line up? Oh well… I can do this!

The curious thing is that M, MM’s son, attends the school. He has dropped by a few times. I was courteous and chatted with him. He came by to say hello, a decent thing to do. I am not going to let any flack from the ending of my relationship with his mother spill over to him. That would be unconscionably rude. He is a student in this school; for me to let my personal life spill into work would be to do harm to the emotional safety of the students in this place.

I am concerned about some of the behaviors that I have seen in the kids: ridicule is high on their agenda, as is profane commentary. These kids all have special needs. There is some irony in hearing them call each other “retard” or seeing the pecking order of the kids that are decidedly on the outside of the pack.

We read a watered down version of one of my favorite books: Don Quixote de la Mancha. This was a telling of the story that took five pages. Cervantes took that much to describe a scene. Needless to say, this was an abridgement of the Reader’s Digest Version. What did stand out was Quijada’s ability to see beyond sight. We talked about that. They all thought that he was nuts; I asked if it was possible that he was seeing people for what they were on the inside, seeing the nobility that the context of their lives concealed. I think that some of them may have gotten that.

Disturbing News

My favorite tele-evangelist, cum Neo-Nazi, is at it again. Brother Pat Robertson suggested that we should save the time and effort of a war and just assassinate Hugo Chavez. However, Pat did apologize, so I guess it’s all just fine now. He did observe that he never used the word “assassinate” demurring instead to the employment of covert operatives to “take him out”. What a guy. Thank God that Pat is praying for those who curse him and lifting the name of his enemies before the Lord God in love and concern for his soul. Maybe Pat just thought that the covert ops should take Hugo out for a night on the town, you know, let your hair down and party down with the Christian right. Show him a good time... yeah, right.

So whatever became of pacificism and the fifth commandment in the Christian faith: Thou shalt not kill? I have some passing familiarity with the history of Christianity. It began as a religion that espoused non-violence and eschewed politics as concerns of the flesh and perseveration with this world. This says nothing of Pat’s confusion of the Reign of God with a right-wing theocracy that is peopled by others that share his warped understanding of the biblical faith. If Pat is going to talk about Chavez, then perhaps he may want to read that troublesome book that we Lutherans consider our own territory in the Bible: Romans. I refer to the 13th chapter of that magisterial document:

13: 1 Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. 2 Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. 3 For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive its approval; 4 for it is God's servant for your good. But if you do what is wrong, you should be afraid, for the authority does not bear the sword in vain! It is the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer. 5 Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience. 6 For the same reason you also pay taxes, for the authorities are God's servants, busy with this very thing. 7 Pay to all what is due them — taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due. (NRSV)

So… If the bible is the literal word of God and the bible here clearly states that all authority is from God then God must have, as part of a divine purpose, the authority vested in Hugo Chavez. To do harm to that rule is to do harm to God’s purpose… sticky wicket that for Pat. Sucks to be President Bush, too, with his war against Saddam Hussein.

Clearly I do not believe in this literalist understanding of St. Paul’s apocalypticism. Pat Robertson and the rest of his lying cohorts claim that they do. Harsh words there for they make him into a liar or an idiot, a fool or a knave. Both are dishonorable. Neither is to be trusted.

Protestations

Speaking of protests, Cindy Sheehan continues to be a threat to Bush’s popularity. Would it not have made sense to have met with her for five or so minutes and make it into a photo-op? Seems that they dropped the ball on that one. Imagine the power that a 48-year old woman has by asking a question about the causes of a war that cost her son his life. No covert ops here. Just a citizen asking for truth… and the lions tremble in their lairs.

Maybe Ms. Sheehan is a bit like Don Quixote? She sees something that is evident only to those that are willing to see. Mr. Bush shows every sign of becoming a tyrant. It does no good to threaten a tyrant with force. He has more force than we can ever muster. Besides, we lose the moral high ground if we sink to the level of the tyrant. It seems more beautiful and more effective to ask for truth. So Sheehan may be jousting with a windmill or two, she still sees more clearly than those whose self imposed blinders have narrowed their vision to see only what our handlers want us to see.

Forty-Year-Old Virgin

2005-08-21T10:22:00.000-07:00

I went to the movies with my daughter "A" last night. We saw Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I wanted to see the film, expecting mind-candy and nothing more. My expectations were set for a situation comedy with a bawdy edge. What I got was a story of a man coming to grips with change and remaining true to himself.

Surprised by Substance

I have become accustomed to the vapid world of production cinema. I saw Anchorman and enjoyed a laugh here and there, but really felt that it was worth less than I had paid. My taste in film is somewhat more substantial. I enjoy good farce: the last great film of that genre made was Blazing Saddles. But even that film would have been weak had it not been for its satiric edge.

Forty-Year-Old Virgin tells the story of a hapless geek guy who is too old to be cool. He is lost in a world of video games, action figures, and memories of awkward sexual experiences that wend sadly awry. To cement his geek image, he works at an electronic supply store in the supply department, rides a bike to work, and tucks in his polo shirts. He is befriended by coworkers that, at first, thought that he was a potential serial killer at the worst or a harmless drudge at best.

Staying True to Self

I think that the idea of staying true to self is at the heart of this film. Andy Sitzer, our protagonist, is coached by friends in the art of meeting women. In what seems to be a coincidence he meets Trish. This is the woman with whom he finds love. An awkward courtship ensues and they finally make love. That is the key. Andy never experienced the awkward post-fuck moment when you are tying to escape quietly or watching you partner trying to do the same. In a moment, he looks at Trish and fesses up to the truth: he is a virgin but was happy to have waited for the right women.

I think that sexuality is a metaphor for our hidden selves. I’ve experienced the awkward post-fuck moment and the ecstasy of holding a woman that I loved with every cell of my being. I am jealous of Andy in many ways: he will only have made love to the woman he loves. That is where the story ends. Though, there is a hilarious scene that, in the tradition of films like Blazing Saddles, stretches the suspension of disbelief beyond any reasonable limit and scores the biggest laughs of the film.

Love and Sex

Let’s face it. We make altogether too much of sex and sexuality in our culture. It is our Calvinist roots, I think, that has condemned us to define ourselves by our attitudes toward sex, positive or negative. There was a time that sex was taboo. Now it is de rigueur. Really, sex is pretty simple: boy gets hard, girl gets wet, there is some thrusting and –hopefully – both feel nice afterwards. We all do this pretty much in the same way. So what makes the difference between the great lover and the mediocre fucks? The answer is in the question: it is in the attitude that we hold toward our partners. I, for one, am done with fucking. I am looking for a woman to love.

My Confession

I miss making coffee for my love in the morning, making her breakfast and bringing it to her with a rose. I miss dropping a love note in my lover’s purse. I miss listening to the details of her day. Sex is the least part of making love. Loving is the greater part. I miss the loving. I am looking for that person with whom I can discover hope anew every morning. For this woman I am willing to wait, but not passively. I am a caring man that seeks commitment.

Socrates’ words ring in my ears: Know yourself that you may be true to yourself. I am not looking to get laid. I am looking for my love, my life, my other self. I have to confess that I am afraid of being hurt again. My soul is generous but my heart is still pained. It will heal – nobody will ever have that power to crush me again – and I will move on.

Oh my love… where are you?

I Really Have Nothing to Say

2005-08-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

I really have nothing to say… There are times when I look at the screen and wonder why I write. It seems so inane, like a man yelling into a chasm just to hear the sound of his voice echoing. Breaking silence, as if to say, “I am” in the face of oblivion. But what does it matter if there is no one to hear. A solipsism still remains unknown insofar as it is only known to me. There is no objective proof.

Sisyphus

Perhaps Sisyphus is my patron saint. He was a cruel bastard who, in the end, was justly sentenced to spend all eternity rolling a stone up hill until it fell down again and then began anew. He was damned to this fate because he had chained Thanatos and thus disallowed the souls of the dead to reach the underworld. Why do I claim him as my patron? Certainly not for what he did in his mortal life: he was a villain. Rather I look at the idea of being doomed to inconsequential and ultimately futile work.

There are times when I feel that I am doomed to roll a rock only to watch it tumble down again, like God’s own dice throwing snake eyes for me. Crapped out.

I saw MM today. It was in a meeting. I don’t think she saw me. I quickly turned away to avoid confrontation. This is a shared workplace. No need to bring our former lives into this place. And the dice are thrown. Pablo finds himself in hell again, futile, vain, and bereft of meaning. Can anybody hear or is this echo only in my mind?

Love Sucks

As hurt and angry as I was with her the truth is that I did love her with all that I am. It was not enough for her. I thought that her heart was ice, needing only warmth to free it from a chill. It was stone. Cold, hard, and ultimately without a space for me. All of the lies told, all of the games played, all of the manipulations, all of the cruel comments made are finally facing me and saying that I allowed it to happen by not putting an end to it sooner. I squandered my heart’s love on a heartless woman who could not bear to be loved.

I have a pattern of choosing women that … I don’t know if that is true. I tend to find women that do not want to be in a committed relationship. SL was the same. She abandoned the marriage when we hit our first major crisis. All of the vows became disposable and she lied, saying she was in for the long haul while looking for the cheap and easy way out. And yet I still love her. I can’t say how sick that sounds when I look at it. And the man just threw snake eyes again.

It Is Not My Youth I Miss; It Is the Sense of Hope

I sat in a meeting with the new teachers where I work. They all looked so young. One, a beautiful red-haired woman, smiled at me and waved furtively. She is easily twenty years my junior. I fantasized making love with her. I realized that she has no idea how old I am and in that moment I realized that my youth was past. My daughter is not much older than this young woman is now. I looked at her. Full of hope and anticipation and I wondered if middle age begins with the death of hope and its descent into cynicism. I know how to pursue a younger woman and to lead her into my bed. Young bodies still have a beauty about them that loses its sheen with age; an older body is full of life and death, it requires a sophisticated touch. But, younger woman still seem to exude hope.

I don’t want to chase women twenty years younger than me. I just want to believe in the possibility that love engenders hope for the future rather than the certainty of a broken heart. MM did not even let the sheets get cold before I was replaced in her bed. She is heartless. I look at these young women and hope that they will not fall victim to the same petrifaction that happened with this woman I once loved. Eden Ahbez may have been correct when he said, “the greatest thing, you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

I wish that I had loved a woman that would love me in kind. Unrequited love is bitter. And its cost is profound. Futile: like Sisyphus rolling his stone, or a man at a precipice calling out words of love in the vain hope that someone will return his cries…

No, I really have nothing to say.

The Right to Peaceably Assemble in Texas

2005-08-16T19:12:00.000-07:00

The test of a free society’s commitment to an uncensored and free exchange of ideas is found in its commitment to a spirited dialog that is protected and encouraged by the government. It is my right, as an American, to dissent. I may do so with dignity or I may do so in a manner that respects no accepted standard of taste. The first amendment to The Constitution of the United States reads thusly:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

All people in this country, regardless of citizenship, have the right to practice or not to practice a religion, to publish opinions and engage in dialog regarding ideas, and to assemble in protest to a position held by the government. To disallow any dialog is to do harm to the most basic right from which all civil rights derive: the right to public expression of deviation from a community’s norm.

In the time following the attack on the World Trade Center, I was living on my boat at the marina in Ventura. One of the live-aboards put a flag on the stern of his vessel and burned his anchor lights in honor of the dead. Soon, the night was aglow with lights from docked vessels. I chose not to do this. I have always been shy to display a flag – I don’t even own one – preferring instead to honor the dead in my own manner. One night I heard a knock on the hull of my boat. Seven or eight of my dockmates were demanding to know why I chose not to fly my flag or burn my lights. I responded that I my grief was personal and asked why this was a concern of theirs. They responded that they were unsure about my “Un-American” attitude. I responded that the most American right is the right to dissent and that I choose to exercise that right.

Yesterday I read that Cindy Sheehan’s camp was destroyed by a Texan in an SUV, driving over the crosses with the names of the dead from this illegal war in Iraq. The crosses bore names of young people that have died in this ill-begotten belligerence. Now I ask, who shows greater disrespect for the soldiers whose lives have been lost: a grieving mother that asks a legitimate question about the causes of this war or a coward in an SUV that desecrates the memories of the fallen by bullying a woman whose only “crime” is to dissent?

Ms. Sheehan is moving. She has had shotgun blasts by the denizens of Crawford to signal their displeasure. She has been menaced by a vehicle that could, as easily, have killed her. She has faced a town seeking to enact laws intended to prohibit her from exercising her right to peaceably assemble in a public place. Now she has had to move.

And where was Mr. Bush, who is sworn to uphold and protect the Constitution that defines these rights? Where was his voice in calling for an end to the harassment of a citizen exercising her rights as an American?

Ah, but I am only a fool…

A Small World

2005-08-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

... But try to paint it!

Apologies to Steven Wright.

Here is a map of the 62 countries where my blog has been accessed at least once since its inception. Hong Kong is missing on the list. It felt dishonest to mark China. What amazes me is that I have done very little to push readership. The occasional link to a blogsharing service, but nothing more than that. This would have been unimaginable years ago. I am in awe.

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Thanks for reading.
- tDF

Looking at the screen...

2005-08-13T13:40:00.000-07:00

There are times when I wonder how to soil this beautiful white sheet of paper. I suppose that that thought dates me. I used to wonder that as I looked at paper over my typewriter’s keyboard. Now I look at a computer screen, still amazed that the letters that I wish to use appear in front of me. I love to write on the computer. It is fluid. I used to be the king of slips and rubber cement in editing and copying (hence, “cut and paste” on the computer’s edit menu). I would not want to go back to that time. But there is something unreal about working on the computer. I miss the tangibility of paper on the roll in front of me being altered with each keystroke.

There is an old joke: How many Lutherans does it take to change a light bulb? Four: One to make the change, three to complain how much better things were before the new bulb. Imagine how the transition might have been when they moved from candles to electricity! As a former Lutheran pastor, I can poke gentle fun at my former parishioners. They trusted me with their spiritual growth; I led as I had light to see the path. Too often, however, there seemed to be nostalgia for a glorious past that never was.

It’s true. I miss seeing paper in front of me. I don’t miss slips and rubber cement. I love the fluidity of the editing process and the ease with which I can move from thought to expression on the computer. It is an improvement. It came with a loss: I lost the touch of paper in my hands. But not really, it is just postponed to the moment that I choose to print a document. In this case I am writing for my blog. I do not intend to print this document. Its expression is purely digital, unless a reader decides to commit it to a hard copy. This is an option that never existed before. The change created new options that I could not have imagined twenty years ago.

Life is a series of changes. With each change, small or large, we risk the loss of things held precious and the gain of things unimagined. I tried to use a typewriter a couple of days ago. I was in the office supply store and saw one. I had to try it. Do you know how hard it is to remember to hit the enter button each time I have come to a line return? And all of the beautiful options for fonts and emphasis that I did not have with a typewriter. I definitely like the new light bulb. I may have some nostalgia, but it is transient.

Now to learn to do the same with my love life…

And now for something completely unrelated to my post!

You're Mexico!

While some people think you're poor and maybe a little corrupt, you know where it's at, enjoying good food and nice beaches. You like to take things a little slower than those around you, and you really wish the air were cleaner, but sometimes compromises must be made. For some reason, Chevrolet keeps trying to sell you Novas as well, even though they don't really go.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

Hiroshima

2005-08-06T10:58:00.000-07:00

St. Augustine proposed criteria that would qualify a nation to wage a just and Christian war. These criteria included the following:

The war was defensive in nature, that is to say provoked and in response to a legitimate need to defend a nation's citizens;
The war was limited to combatants and surrender was honored, as wounded were treated mercifully;
The war had a clear objective that was obtainable;
The war was imposed by legal authority; and
There was no other recourse available to defend the citizens of a nation.

Modern warfare had done away with the idea of a just war. Today is the sixtieth anniversary of the first use of nuclear weapons in war. The bomb rendered obsolete all of these criteria as it was a new sort of weapon of which Augustine could not have imagined: a weapon of mass destruction.

Since the world began the last century of madness and mayhem - I consider that World War I and World War II to be part of the same conflict; the cold war and the colonial wars in Asia to be extensions of the same - we, as a nation, have been the beneficiaries of blood. When Eisenhower warned against the development of a "military industrial complex" he spoke of the wedding of our economic needs to the machinery of war. Every weapon is truly theft from the legacy of our humanity and the very real and mundane needs of the remainder of humanity: food, clothing, shelter, peace.

The bomb fell and with it Hirsohima became the first casualty of a new and inhumane form of conflict in which there was no possible distinction to be drawn between combatants and civilians: all were targets, all were destroyed. In a dark irony the bomb, like death itself, was egalitarian insofar as it did not distinguish between class or rank: all that fell in its shadow were and then were no longer.

We are now engaged in a bloody and horrid war in Iraq. To what end do we pursue this warring madness. How many more must die before we learn that the greatness of a nation is not found in its ability to kill, but in its will to be compassionate?

Ah, but I am only a fool...

Intimate Ethics

2005-08-04T00:31:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about personal morality of late. I have to confess to a lapse in both judgment and actions and thus cannot pretend to speak from some moral high ground. Instead, I am wondering how to live in caring relationships in a world that has devalued marriage and monogamy. If we have not devalued these values, we, as a culture, have certainly become somewhat ambivalent about them. For my own self, I do believe in monogamous relationships, but I am not convinced that they should be the only norm. Consensual polygamy may be more practical and more honest.

First, Do No Harm

I have always stated that the first rule is to affirm life. That which is harmful to that dictum is harmful to any practical morality. Honesty, care, compassion all must be part of the equation, especially when the question involves something as personal as sexuality. Harmful sexual expression can – and does – occur in monogamous relationships. I think of sex used as power or control by either partner and see that the ideal of sharing intimacy has been lost to a need to control. This is harmful. This is, to my view, immoral. What about so-called open marriages or open relationships? I will confess a bit of inconsistency in my thinking and note that this is very provisional.

I think that “open marriage” is a contradiction in terms. Marriage is, by definition, an act of exclusive commitment. I am very supportive of this, be this for gay or straight persons. This allows the formation of a stable family unit, insofar as commitment is sustained (an assumption that is more often than not invalid in our culture of disposable covenants). I do not believe that we should enter into marriage lightly, nor do I believe that marriage should be dissolved so easily. In truth, I am coming to a place of thinking that marriage should be the exception and not the rule for most relationships.

Open relationships are quite another issue. I am not certain that I consider “don’t ask, don’t tell” to be functional or life affirming. It allows for expectations to develop and agendas to become hidden. It denies the primary ideal of honesty. I believe that consensual polygamy is acceptable outside of marriage, assuming that all partners understand the nature of the relationship and all partners are responsible in their actions.

Honesty and Ease

I do not believe in lying to comfort a lover. I have been profoundly hurt by lies told to me because they would “make things easier.” They never do; they only create an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust. Eventually, the truth has a way of making itself known and in that destructive revelation, the ease that was bartered for is destroyed. Honesty is a much better ground upon which to build a relationship. I can think of no circumstance in which a lie serves as a solid grounding for any relationship. In my experience, they have been destructive.

I think that exclusivity is a good thing. It is not the primary good. It is good insofar as it creates a boundary for trust and commitment to one another. I am a 48-year-old man that has come out of a (sadly) failed relationship. It was destroyed by the lies told to me by my lover. I am not in a position now to consider another exclusive relationship. I am not convinced that exclusivity must be the only grounds for intimacy.

What harm is there in this if all parties are aware of the reality and all are able to be comfortable? As I write this my Christian scruples want to rebel; but I have come to a place of not holding the Christian gospel as the cornerstone of an ethical system. I think that my reactions are well-practiced reflexes from a time when I held a different basis for an ethical system. I return to my first premise: do no harm. I am not seeking to make sex objects out of women, using them as objects rather than entering into an "I/Thou" relationship with them. This is an interim arrangement, based on honesty and the consent of all involved.

Interim Arrangements

The idea of a penultimate context from ethics is well grounded in Christian ethical thought. It presumes an eschaton, a great time of judgment and redemption at the end of all things. In a world that presumed the evil nature of the flesh and the immediate consummation of God’s redemptive promises, it followed well that all marriages were interim. Curiously, they were also reckoned as absolutely binding: No open marriages. The only other option was continence. We now live 2,000 years after the passing of the authors of the New Testament. Its apocalypticism seems to be a vestige of its time rather than a pronouncement for the ages. I think that an ethic that is grounded on that apocalyptic vision is ultimately grounded in an archaic understanding of the good. Spiritual purity was placed in contrast to physical life; even good food and drink were considered sinful, as they promoted vanity and egocentrism.

Interim ethics need to presume a mutuality of trust, realizing that life is marked by changes, some imposed by the whims of others and against our will. They understand that relationships are ephemeral and that sexual expression within those relationships needs to regard the transient nature of these relationships. I am not advocating promiscuity. I am advocating some middle ground that allows for growth toward or away from commitment but always allows for trust and honesty.

Ah, but I am only a fool…

Pas de Deux?

2005-08-03T00:11:00.000-07:00

What can I say? I still believe in magic and romance. I know that my life’s partner is out there and that we’ll find each other.

Who am I? I am the father of the two most beautiful daughters on the face of the planet. I am a teacher (special education). I am a musician and composer. My daughter says that I have “mad culinary skills.”

What are my best features?

I am kind, caring, and compassionate.
I am intelligent, but understand that it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, for what is essential is invisible to the eye (extra points if you know the reference… one of my favorite books!).
I am not afraid of commitment – I am craving it!
I speak Spanish and English (and some others that I had to learn in grad school!)
My daughter thinks I’m good looking (she is rumored to have good taste!)
I will defend those I love with all that I have.
I am no wimp – I am strong. loving and wise.
I am not afraid of my emotions, but don’t wear them on my sleeve in a superficial “sensitive 90’s guy” way.
I can even wear pink and look masculine.
I am sensual.
I enjoy laughing… usually at myself.

So why have I not found my match? God only knows, and she ain’t tellin’!

Thank you to an anonymous friend

2005-07-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

A comment on a post that I have deleted deserves to be read and responded to:

Hello TDF,
I usually enjoy your posts very much. They're well-written and insightful. But dude, this post says that you are leaning towards becoming a friggin lunatic! Not just that, but a self-centered, cold-hearted lunatic whose thoughts and actions revolve solely around what you want.

You know, I'm worried about you. I'd like to see the 'old' DF back, not this one who uses and discards others at will. I also worry that your personal escapades will end up becoming a professional issue for you since you indicate that you are a teacher....given the moral climate brought on by our right-wing president, it's not far fetched to see that an angry parent brings this blog to the school board. Don't give them this power over you

Dear Friend -

I wish I had a name to address you directly. I reread the post today. You are right. I don't like what I am becoming. I need to return to myself. It is amazing what pain will do to me - not an excuse, but an observation. I need to find my way back.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for telling the truth.

I let pain justify my choice to do what I disdain. I alone am responsible for my actions and need to move beyond these poor choices that I have made. MM and I have taken leave of each other. We spoke today and I ended the relationship. It is for the best. I will live with my grief and, hopefully, find my way back out of this haze of egoism that has enveloped me.

Thank you for being a friend.
-tDF

My Life Has Become Simpler

2005-07-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

MM came over to the house, following a phone conversation. She said that she wanted to have a “heart to heart” with me. I’ve learned that this means that new games have been devised – our history is difficult to ignore. I thought that, since she wanted to come to my home earlier than our dinner that there was something afoot. Really, she did me a favor: my life is much simpler. She is history.

Moment of Clarity

Alcoholics that are coming to a place of recovery have described a “moment” of clarity when the path is clear and a choice needs to be made. I had mine today. I have decided to cut all ties to MM. I am better off for it. Having spent the last few days rereading the sad chronology of our past, coupled with today’s conversation have led me to the point that I could never have reached before: I am better off without her.

MM came to the house to announce that she wanted to be just friends. Now, on the surface this can seem like all I wanted was sex from her. This is not the case. Read on, gentle reader, and withhold judgment. MM had called me on Saturday to tell me that I was the one that she longed for and that I was the one that she loved. After that, she told me that she wanted to be with me, but not exclusively. I accepted that – given my history, I could not do otherwise, though I would have considered monogamy with her – and she told me that I was the primary relationship. Today, she comes into my house to announce that this is a page from her past and that she wants us to be friends. I thought for a moment and then saw it: she is a lying, manipulative, low-life unworthy of my affections.

I told her to lose my phone number. I actually feel relief, not grief.

MM has a long history of lies and games, though she denies that she is manipulative. Her standing exculpation, excuse to make it all fine, is “look at my intentions… I didn't mean to...” I’ve come to a place of no longer caring about her “intentions” and focus solely on behaviors and their impact on the people around her. Since I was the person being impacted, I decided that my wellbeing was more important than her intentions. I have no more energy for her lies, manipulations, passive aggression, games, and general bullshit. As far as I am concerned, she has become a bad memory. I am done.

Harm Caused

Because we met when I was a student observer in her classroom, there was a power differential that she never quite let go of. An example: I needed a letter of recommendation from her. She refused for three weeks, then sent an unsigned letter (as near to useless as possible). When I noted that the letter was unsigned, she finally provided a signed copy that was lukewarm, at best. The fact that I had to wait three weeks for her to provide what should have been given the day my obligation ended (almost a year ago) cost me a job. I could not turn in an application. But, she was feeling "overwhelmed" at my request and just couldn't be bothered. Too bad for me... She "didn't mean me any harm..."

A neighborhood spat cost me over $2000.00 when her neighbors had my car towed. She made peace with the person involved, but never raised the issue of the monetary damage that it caused me. I was supposed to be quiet and happy that she was feeling better. When I confronted her, she acted hurt, as if I should be happy that the tension level was now lower. They make peace, I get screwed. But that's fine in her view.

This is nothing in comparison to hearing about how she was sleeping with a new guy that – in her words – complained that she was not good in bed, that she gave poor head. Now, who tells a friend that was a lover these details? What type of low-life does this? I have come to the conclusion that she does not deserve me. She has more money than I do – an inheritance – but not nearly the class that I have. An aside: any person who chooses a loser like that deserves what she gets and is clearly unworthy of my affections.

What Now?

I work in a small community. There is no way not to see her on occasion. I will be polite and courteous, as I always am. But warm? Never. I want never to have to associate with this woman. She has left a trail of emotional wreckage in her wake. Her parting shot, “Why won’t you support me in becoming the person I can be?” My response, “Because I no longer care about you. Do us both a favor, lose my phone number.” And she left.

And I am relieved.

Who Would Buy a Child a Weapon of War?

2005-07-24T18:58:00.000-07:00

There are things that I will never understand. One of which is why we, as a nation, allow personal possession of firearms. The second amendment was never intended to be an absolute guarantee of the individual’s right to possess a device capable of terminating a human life. I have seen, first hand, what people can do with these weapons. There are things that simply are not healthy for the society: the possession of implements that were designed only to kill people is, to my view, immoral.

The Right to Bear Arms

I make no pretense of any legal training or specialized knowledge of the Constitution. I have some historical insight into the development of that document, its context and its sources, but claim no expertise. is as follows:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a Free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

This seems to me to be rather clear: the purpose of the right to bear arms was to create citizen soldiers for the protection of the State. Notice the first clause: “A well regulated Militia…” This is the clear precondition and limitation of the right to bear arms; the second amendment is not a guarantee of my right to own guns, but of the State’s right to form a militia. A clear and well-written discussion of this amendment is found at the Violence Policy Center’s webpage

Why do I raise this point? It is because I am worried. I am not only worried about the general proliferation of firearms, I am worried about a friend that purchased a military issue rifle for her 16-year-old son. I am aghast at this. I am sickened by this. I am worried by this.

A Mauser in the House

The day was going slowly and I was frankly bored. I called a friend up today to chat, thinking this would be a pleasant way to pass a few moments. We chatted for a bit and she mentioned that she purchased a gun for her son. She knows how I feel about weapons and prefaced her comments with a request that I not make any judgments about her choice. I dislike guns. I was frankly not supportive in the past of this decision for two reasons: the presence of a gun greatly increases the risk of injury or death by a firearm, and this child’s temperament. She said was writing a contract. She has done this in the past and it has come to nothing. The kid gets what he wants with no real responsibility being taken for his actions. I was taken aback when she said she purchased a Mauser for her son. I had to ask what it was, as I was shocked to hear this choice.

So, what 16-year-old boy does not need to have a high-powered 8mm bold action rifle designed as an assault weapon for use by the Nazi army? Understand me well: this is not a .22 caliber target gun; this is a weapon of war.

I was stunned and angered to hear that my friend had not provided for appropriate storage for this weapon: no gunlocks, no lockers, to separate storage for ammunition: nothing.

I will own my prejudice against the possession of weapons. I am not – nor do I pretend to be neutral – on this issue. To provide a child with a weapon capable of killing a human at long range without providing the appropriate storage is simply and reprehensibly irresponsible and immoral. Moreover, I said as much to her. I cannot and will not step foot in that house until that weapon is gone. My children will not be allowed to go there under any circumstance. It is unsafe.

California State Regulations

Our state is bizarre at times. It is legal to own a high-powered rifle, but not a handgun. Go figure. The criminal liability for storage of a loaded firearm is onerous, as well it should be. Of particular interest is civil liability, which makes no distinction between handguns and rifles:

Civil liability for any injury to the person or property of another proximately caused by the discharge of a firearm by a minor under the age of 18 years shall be imputed to a parent or guardian having custody and control of the minor for all purposes of civil damages, and such parent or guardian shall be jointly and severally liable with such minor for any damages resulting from such act, if such parent or guardian either permitted the minor to have the firearm or left the firearm in a place accessible to the minor.

The liability imposed by this section is in addition to any liability otherwise imposed by law. However, no person, or group of persons collectively, shall incur liability under this section in any amount exceeding thirty thousand dollars ($30,000) for injury to or death of one person as a result of any one occurrence or, subject to the limit as to one person, exceeding sixty thousand dollars ($60,000) for injury to or death of all persons as a result of any one such occurrence.

Now, this child has a collection of pellet guns. Limitations have been placed on the use and discharge of these weapons. They have been consistently ignored. Does it, in any way, follow that a child that is not trustworthy with a smaller weapon can be trusted with a weapon capable of killing a person? Add to this a history of violence with this child (locking down the house and not allowing his mother to enter) and it becomes clear even to those whose political persuasions tend toward the right that this is a poor choice.

Permissive Parents

I strive to be a good father. This means that I have to say “no” to my children. I wonder why parents try so hard to be their children’s friends rather than their parents. Frankly, this is a reprehensible act of indulgence that I hope and pray to whatever gods may be listening will not bring harm to anybody involved. But, if it does, I can have no real sympathy: she brought the weapon into her house without regard for proper storage (she did not even have a trigger lock) and without concern for the safety of those around her.

I suppose the twinkle in his eye made it all worth it…

But I am only a fool...

An update: Following a couple of heated conversations the parent in question purchased appropriate storage for this weapon that includes locks, seperate storage for ammo and requires the weapon to be broken before storage. I still feel that weapons of this sort have no place in the hands of a child. But, this is at least a step toward making this less accesible in moments of rage, anger, or in case of theft. - tDF

Let It Be at the Golden China Karaoke Bar

2005-07-23T01:40:00.000-07:00

My favorite song in the world is “Let It Be.” It speaks to me and says what I hold most dear: let it be, go on living. As I get older I come to realize that I cannot control others – hell, I have difficulty controlling myself at times – and that I am wiser not even to try. My job is simply to allow them to be and to be myself. PS, my buddy (AKA, the Slimy Limey) and I went to the Golden China Karaoke Bar. I decided to sing. I can’t sing to save my soul, but it’s karaoke, not music. I sang two songs, “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” and “Let It Be.” The last came home to me again and started me to think about MM, about the whole messy disintegration, and where to go from here. I decided I needed to talk to a woman. I called my ex-wife and dear friend SL.

Unconventional Friendships

I told SL that I needed to talk. I gave some intimation of what I needed to discuss and asked her permission to share some personal details. We chatted a bit. She affirmed that I was not “off-base” in being taken aback by MM’s lack of discretion with her words, but also offered a perspective that I had not considered: perhaps MM simply had not understood that discretion is the basis for intimacy. SL reminded me that she was too open about details of her sexual history with me, and has since learned to edit details that need not be shared.

Perhaps MM really doesn’t get it. I don’t know. I do know that I don’t want the details of her sexual encounters with other men. MM had an “open marriage” in the past (something that I think I understand better now than before). I wondered if part of their intimacy was sharing details of encounters with their other lovers. Personally, I won’t tell others about what I did with MM, SL, or anybody else for that matter. Those details are for my lover and me alone.

Détente?

SL and I reached an uneasy détente years ago, before I became exclusive with MM. We ran a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I knew that she had another lover, she knew that I did as well. I never lied to either, suggesting that I was not seeing anybody else. I simply did not share information. At the offset, I made it clear that I had intimate friends – no names given – and understood that I was not making any implicit commitment of monogamy. I am very happy to be absolutely monogamous in a committed relationship. Indeed, I was with MM. With SL I have had an uncommon understanding that we share a bond of mutual care and that we are intimate friends. If she wished a monogamous relationship with her current lover, I could and would respect that.

I wonder if the same sort of détente is possible with MM or if I am fooling myself into believing that this could be possible. The difficulty is that I loved her. It would be easier if we were simply friends that were sexual on occasion. I loved this woman to the core of my being and have been profoundly hurt by her. Is it best to love differently or to move on? I don’t know.

Cat Stevens

I was listening to the radio shortly after this sad episode occurred. I requested a hiatus from MM following her blurting out, a day or two after she broke it off with me, that BS had sent her wine and flowers. I told her that I did not want details. She seemed to insist “in the name of friendship”. There seemed to me something twisted about that, but… I digress. When we came back together she visited. We made love. She told me that she was seeing somebody else and was sleeping with him. I was hurt, but the pain didn’t hit until much later. She demanded that I not make her the other woman, she was making me the other man. Greed. MM is good at that. I also have my faults, that is not one of them.

I was listening to the radio. Cat Stevens’ Oh Very Young was playing. The lyric hit a deep and resonating note with me:

Oh Very Young, what will you leave us this time
You're only dancin' on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your dads best jeans
Denim blue, faded up to the sky
And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will
(You know they never will)
And the patches make the goodbye harder still.

Oh Very Young what will you leave us this time
There'll never be a better chance to change your mind
And if you want this world to see a better day
Will you carry the words of love with you
Will you ride the great white bird into heaven
And though you want to last forever
You know you never will
(You know you never will)
And the goodbye makes the journey harder still.

Will you carry the words of love with you
Will you ride, oh,oooooooooooooh

Oh Very Young, what will you leave us this time
You're only dancin' on this earth for a short while
Oh Very Young, what will you leave us this time

Some things just shouldn’t be patched. Others need to be allowed to die a natural death. And others need to be valued and maintained. Oh to have the wisdom to know which.

Calmer today, but quite sad

2005-07-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

I don't understand why a lover has the need to compare notes, especially in a way that is vulgar or insulting. I have never been one to share the details of my intimacies. What I do and with whom is nobody's business apart from the people directly involved: my lover and me. When MM asks me who's right about her technique with other men it is hurtful, profoundly so. It feels like the language a whore would use, beneath the dignity of a lady. Still, she persists with this. It is difficult for me, and very hurtful.

More Later... kids coming into class

The kids have come and gone. I called MM and am now at home. I did not sleep well. She told me that she did not and was tired. She noted some cardiac symptoms and anxiety. She made a comment that struck a raw nerve: I did not think I would awaken (paraphrased). I was suicidal when she dumped me. Had it not been for the way my kids would have remembered me and for a hotline that I found on the internet I am not certain that I would have pulled through. I am deeply scarred by her lies and inability to be honest and forthcoming. There is a cold and cruel part of me that thinks, "good, about goddamn time that you felt a bit of what you did to me..." The greater part of me is aghast at such thoughts.

This bullshit about her doing "what is easier for me" is crap. She lied to me rather than tell me the truth about wanting time alone. She lied about intentions to be with me. She wants to be judged on her character, thinking that it is "OK" to be dishonest to spare feelings. Lies hurt me deeply. I cannot trust a liar. I once commented that when a lie is told that I may not say anything, I may even understand; I would never trust again. I assume honesty. Once this is broken it is damn hard for me to trust again.

I keep thinking that she is looking for ways to push me out. She obviously does not want me, except on her terms and then only for her needs...

Note: There was more to this posting. I was making a change and lost the copy. I decided simply to post it as is, a work in progress, seeking resolution. It can be a labored metaphor.

Too Long... Too Much Bullshit

2005-07-17T23:27:00.000-07:00

I quit posting for several months. I suppose that there are several reasons. The most pressing was a symptom of my codependency in a relationship: I did not want to offend MM's delicate sensibilities. To hell with them. This is my blog. If she elects to read, she does so at her own peril (frankly, if you are reading, my dear, I would stop now...Nothing here if flattering).

I have reposted the chronicle of our breakup. They were hidden because she was offended by them.

She dumped me again. This time asking to be friends. Almost in the same breath the informed me that the contractor that was working on her house brought wine and flowers over. I stopped her and informed her that I did not want to hear any details.

I asked for a long hiatus following this conversation, almost three months. I needed time and space. That came to a disastrous end yesterday. We saw each other. Spend an afternoon fucking (during which time she told me that she is fucking the contractor - information I don't need). I spent a good deal of time thinking after and sent her the following email:

Thank you for accepting the olive branch that I tried to offer you. I was not certain that you would.

I can't say that I am comfortable with the idea of you seeing another man, but it is not mine to say what you do and with whom. You did not ask if I was seeing anybody nor did you seem to want to accept my invitation to ask. Perhaps it is moot to you. Should you feel a need or desire to ask I will speak; but, unless you ask I will remain silent.

I am uncertain how best to proceed. I suppose that I will have to accept the fact that I will have to share your affections - this seems ironic to me given the request that you had that I tell you if I became intimate with another person. You did not wish to be the "other woman" and I now have become the "other man". You accused me of "cruising" for other women, citing fear of betrayal but felt free to pursue a physical relationship with another man. All of this is difficult for me (and frankly seems to be a double-standard). I would be lying if I said otherwise.

But it felt so damn good to hold you again.

So what do we do? You've left my home: a place that I know you dislike, that you studiously avoided in the past and described in less than flattering language. But my bed smells as it should: of you. And I am confused. I am not willing to be a secret.
Nor am I willing to be simply at your beck and call to serve your pleasure, to be thrown out like so much garbage when I no longer suite you. I gave up much more than you did in the past and paid a deeper emotional toll for it: I was the one dropped like a bad habit. To hear you say, "one day at a time" sounds too much like the past that hurt me so deeply.

I refuse to be in your orbit. If we are to do anything the terms must be much more mutual. There are things in my life that you no longer have any say over: this includes who I will see and when. Your request that we suspend physical activity if there is another woman is nullified by your choices. What goes for you must go equally for me. There are several things that we need to talk about. I am willing to meet you half-way, but no more than that.

I hope that you see this as it is intended - a dialog starter and an attempt to hold on
to something that I value deeply.

I am confused. But I am also glad to have held you again.
- p

Tell me this is not pathetic. Now... How clear is it that I don't want details about her sexual escapades? Clear enough, I would think. No... She came to my house to help me find an escaped snake (How perfect is that? Phallic images up the wazoo). So she asks me - right after reading this email - if she should believe BS, the contractor who says that she does not perform fellatio well, or me (since I have expressed favor for her technique - words said in the context of lovemaking). WTF?

What part of "I don't want the details" is unclear? What type of bitch does this to a person she claims to love?

If she wants to whore around that is her choice. I will not have it thrown in my face. It is about her and her greed. She wants everything on her terms. She threw me out - and lied about the whole damn thing - then expects me to judge her "character."

She is not worthy of me. That's for damn sure. That part of me that sees her as a greedy bitch is probably more correct than I want to admit. The more I think, the more I am convinced that the best thing is to wash my hands completely of her.

Opus Dei?

2005-05-06T00:16:00.000-07:00

I have to wonder about the idea of a “culture of life” that, in a cavalier fashion, lies about weapons of mass destruction to justify intervention in a sovereign state at the cost of innumerable lives, both military and civilian. Recently I have been reading Mein Kampf. It is frightening to read, now 80 years since its publication. It outlines the Hitlerian idea that the lie must be big enough to convince the masses of its veracity. Propaganda does not appeal to reason, but to base emotions. Fear is among the most basic of emotions. Instill fear in a people and they will sell their souls for the illusion of security. Do I sound cynical about my country? I am.

Lebensraum

Hitler used lies and deception to sell the idea of Lebensraum to the German people. This ultimately became the justification for the annexation of Austria, the expansion into Poland, Scandinavia, France, and Czechoslovakia. Germany required land for the master race, the Aryans. Lesser mortals were destined by nature to be their slaves and would live and die for the good of the master race. This was the value of subhuman races: to provide for the strong.

Help me if I sound overly cynical, but does this not sound quite a bit like the rhetoric surrounding the war in Iraq? We expand into a sovereign country that is unable to govern itself. We topple the elected government and establish a government that is more to our taste. We support that government only to the degree that it provides what we need and demand of that place: oil.

A Culture of Life?

The idea of the culture of life is to recognize the value of all human life and not to draw distinctions in the value of any life. John Paul II was adamant in his opposition to communism. This is well known. He was also quite outspoken in his criticism of the United State’s War in Iraq. A true culture of life is defined by John Paul II, in his 1995 encyclical Evangelium Vitae (The Gospel of Life). In this he condemns capital punishment, euthanasia, and abortion as part of a “culture of death.” While there is much with which I take issue in these state

A Culture of Life?

2005-04-29T07:21:00.000-07:00

I have kept to myself on the Terri Schiavo “case.” I think that this becomes a metaphor, one selected by the religious right and the neo-fascists in office, for the duplicity that has become the hallmark of American political discourse in recent years. I found it offensive and obscene that the personal struggles of a family that faced the death of a daughter and a wife would become fodder for the conservative agenda and could take center stage from the drama of the was in Iraq. But memory is long. I recall that the President’s father used his hatred of broccoli – a vegetable that Garrison Keeler later quipped was the source of human intelligence – as a diversion from his agenda. Ms. Schiavo’s death was not the issue. Nor was her dying. The issue was how to further obfuscate the truth that this administration is consumed by lust for blood and oil.

Activist Judges?

The courts did something radical in the Schiavo case: they upheld the letter of the law. This was not activism. This was a conservative reading of the letter of the law and enforcing what had been legislated. The question of who makes medical decisions in a marriage has already been defined: the spouse. Ms. Schiavo did not have a living will, to my knowledge, that would have countermanded the decision that her husband made. The allegations made in the press that Ms. Schiavo pleaded, “I want to live…” is the stuff of poorly written melodrama. Her higher brain functions were lost. These do not regenerate. It is impossible for a person so horribly traumatized to say these – or any other – words. Did they represent the wishes and hopes of the family? Perhaps. I’d want my daughter to live, too. But these decisions have to be made and the law determines who is empowered to speak. The presumption of the law is that the spouse speaks for the patient and is best capable to make medical decisions. How is that “activist”? If anything if is conservative.

Sanctity of Marriage

The administration that seeks to uphold marriage seemed hell-bent on undoing one of the fundamental clauses in the marriage compact: that the spouses form the family unit. While I am loathe to speak of a “Judeo-Christian Ethic” that rests at the heart of our way of life, I must observe that Luther spoke of marriage as the basis for the State. The protections that marriage provided for the wife and children – food, shelter, education, a trade – were seen by Luther and others as the State in microcosm. Fundamental to this was the right of the spouse to administer the house in absence of his or her partner and to make decisions that represented the welfare of that person.

This administration has no interest in upholding the sanctity of marriage. This administration’s “culture of life” is little more than a front for something deeper, something much more sinister.

Blood and Oil

I used to have a counter on this site that measured an estimate of how much money has been spent on the war in Iraq. As I watched the number grow and considered how the monies might better be spent I began to realize that this is not the real issue. Money is artificial: is has value only because of the agreements that people have placed in it. It is a metaphor for wealth, a means to trade. It has no intrinsic worth. Life, on the other hand, is the only thing that has any intrinsic value. Human life and the life of the planet are of inestimable worth.

Apparently the culture of life does not extend to the people (non-belligerents) killed in Iraq. Apparently it does not extend to the prisoners of war cloistered away in Guantanamo or other locales. Apparently it does not extend to Americans that do not enjoy a right to food, shelter, education, and employment. Apparently it can be negotiated when there is enough oil and material wealth to be gained by its sale. And there it is: life has become a commodity, its value measured by the wealth that it can generate.

A Family’s Grief Exploited

I am saddened by the grief run amok that the glare of the public gaze has created and that this family will bear. The sad thing is that the “culture of life” embraced a macabre fixation with the maintenance of a body at the expense of the life that was already lost. The person that was known at Terri Schiavo was already dead. The body was left. But it made good copy: the conservative, right to lifers fighting for the existence of a discarded shell. But I wonder what will happen to them in a year when the name is all but forgotten but the pain will continue. How will the culture of life have enriched theirs?

Is There Such A Thing as a Christian Left?

2005-04-10T17:49:00.000-07:00

I am frustrated by the perception that Christianity is a religion that limits morality to sexuality and ignores the idea of justice and peace. So much of the nonsense that is passed of as "biblical religion" is an attempt to control the individual by denying sexuality and imposing a parochialistic vision of life on all. I am very shy to use terms like "God's will," with any certainty. I am not convinced that the bible is an apodictic book of rules or that God's will can be parsed down to a list of "shall nots".

But if There Are Rules...

I suppose that the reality is that is there are rules in the Bible that are prosciptive, then they must be reviewed. Here are a few that don't get much press from the so-called "Christian Right":

The eating of fat is prohibited forever. (Lev 3:17)
You cannot round the corners of your beard or the hair on your temples. (Lev 19:27)
Witches should be killed. (Ex 22:18)
The congregation was to be a bastard free zone. The Bible was so dead set against bastards that their children, even to the tenth generation, could not enter the assembly of the Lord. (Duet 23:2) This is in keeping with God's principle of punishing children for the wrongdoings of their parents.
Handicapped people could not approach God. Their presence would profane his sanctuary. (Lev 21:16-23) This scripture single-handedly offends almost every category of handicapped persons you can name. The blind, lame, injured, hunchbacks and dwarfs are specifically named. If anyone is left out, the catchall phrase "anyone with a blemish" is thrown in to cover them. I guess in Israel, the handicapped parking stalls were at the far end of the parking lot.
Entrance into the assembly of the Lord was granted only to those with complete testicles. (Duet 23:1) Now, I will admit that keeping one's testicles in tact is a pursuit worthy of some attention, but I have to ask: What went on in the "assembly of the Lord" that required a complete and full set of testicles? And, since testicles are usually not on display, was there someone at the gate assigned to check?
Anyone working on the Sabbath is to be killed. (Ex 35:2) This law was to protect the sanctity of Sunday afternoon football. Unfortunately, any player that touched the ball would have to be killed after the game, because he had touched a dead pig. (Lev 11:7,8) That would certainly make it easier to play defense.
Menstruating women and everything they touch are unclean. The only cure for this uncleanness was for the priest to kill a couple of pigeons. (Lev 15:19-30) What could be more logical?
If a couple has sex during the woman's period, the two are to be cut off from their people. (Lev 20:18) Once again, how would anyone know that this had happened? The couple is obviously not going to tell. Maybe the genital inspector from the temple made house calls.
Women were officially second class citizens. They were considered possessions that were owned, (Prov 12:4) and were officially subordinate (1 Cor 14:33,34).
Homosexual men were to be executed. (Lev 20:13) No mention is made of homosexual women. (The Dancing Fool has to make an observation: There is no word in either Hebrew or Greek that is equivalent to the English word "Homosexual." This has to do with actions. Now guys, how many of us have, at least once, gotten off with another guy? - tDF)
If a woman grabs a man's privates during a fight, her hand is to be cut off. (Duet 25:11,12) Now, is it really necessary to have this law on the books? You get the impression that the person who was writing the laws had recently experienced this and was still a little pissed off.
False prophets are to be killed by their own parents. (Zech 13:3)
Stubborn children were to be stoned, and the stoning was to be instigated by their parents. (Duet 21:18-21)
And whatever you do, don't ever, ever, ever, pee against the wall (1 kings 16:11 KJV). OK, I know. The phrase "anyone who pees against the wall" is just a euphamism for men. I just couldn't resist this one. [Source: www.liberator.net]

OK... now let's get a tat bit more serious. What does the Bible say about justice?

Now let me be a bit of a theologian for a moment. If the key to the New Testament is justification by faith through grace, then one has to look seriously at the idea of justice and justification. Both words come from the Greek "δικαιοσυνη". Both words ultimately lead to forgiveness and acceptance of the sinner by a God whose righteousness is defined by God's grace. That is evident in the Old Testament, as well. One need only read Leviticus 25 to see how this idea of grace is extended to the foreigner in the land. A short quote is necessary here:

19:9: "When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field to its very border, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. 10: And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the LORD your God. 11: "You shall not steal, nor deal falsely, nor lie to one another. 12: And you shall not swear by my name falsely, and so profane the name of your God: I am the LORD. 13: "You shall not oppress your neighbor or rob him. The wages of a hired servant shall not remain with you all night until the morning. 14: You shall not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind, but you shall fear your God: I am the LORD. 15: "You shall do no injustice in judgment; you shall not be partial to the poor or defer to the great, but in righteousness shall you judge your neighbor. 16: You shall not go up and down as a slanderer among your people, and you shall not stand forth against the life of your neighbor: I am the LORD. 17: "You shall not hate your brother in your heart, but you shall reason with your neighbor, lest you bear sin because of him. 18: You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

No grudges, no injustice, no discrimination against foreigners. Care is to be extended and the rich may not oppress the poor. Food is to be provided, however passively, for the poor.

I tend to like Deuteronomy. Here is a quote from that majestic text that the Right tends to ignore:

10:17: For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the terrible God, who is not partial and takes no bribe. 18: He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing. 19: Love the sojourner therefore; for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt. 20: You shall fear the LORD your God; you shall serve him and cleave to him, and by his name you shall swear.

Here is a famous quote from Micah:

6:6: "With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? 7: Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" 8: He has showed you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

Do justice (forgiveness and acceptance), love kindness, and walk humbly with God. A tall order.

I think that those of us that incline to the left from a perspective of faith need to reflect on these quotes that fired the hearts of prophets, priests, and martyrs since Abraham first heard the word as a wandering Aramean, homeless in the desert and broken, yet beloved of God...

Ah, but I am only a fool...

Whose Ass Do I Kick, Kiss, or Caress?

2005-03-30T21:59:00.000-08:00

It amazes me the lengths to which one has to go to complete things that should be simple. There was a time that I would have had great compunctions about being sycophantic to accomplish my goals. Now my question is much more straightforward: just tell me whose ass I need to kick, kiss, or caress to get what I want.

The Cosmos Are Playing a Little Joke on Me

I am a Gemini: there is no doubt about that. We are the sexiest, smartest, best looking and most modest of the signs of the Zodiac. Scorpios are too self-absorbed and think that they are powerful (boring), Virgos are just plain boring, Capricorns and Taurans are just plain stodgy and boring. More than that, we can use words. We know how to think and to put our thoughts into words. I love being a Gemini. My chart, for those of you that “follow the stars, Venus and Mars are right tonight” (points if you know whose song that is) is something of an enigma. I once had an extended horoscope drawn. It said that this is the life in which I am to pay off my karmic debt. Apparently, I was something of a hellion in my last life. This is the one that settles the debts.

There was a time that I might have laughed at that last assertion. But looking at my life I am given pause to wonder if there is not some modicum of truth in that. I wrote a letter to a friend and in that included the following quote:

“I suppose that I long most for love, respect, friendship but realize that I will never have these things in one relationship...”

I am coming to believe that for reasons that may or may not have anything to do with the stars, the fates, or any external force that I am destined (used advisedly) to fall somewhat short of what is completely good and beautiful. I do not believe that I will find what I want in one person; this has never been my experience. Perhaps it is just too damn much to ask of anybody.

A Jest of God?

There is a sort of perverse satisfaction in knowing that the cosmos would invest so much in such a little joke. I suppose all things are relative. For the cosmos it may be nothing; for me it is all that I have and am. If this life is a jest of the divine, then let us enjoy the laughs that we can have and to hell with the rest. I am not much of an epicurean, but I am coming to questions my innate stoicism.

Diogenes was a cynic. The word cynic derives from the Greek word for “dog.” He was said to have preached to the dogs and tended to regard them as more worthy than his fellow humans. I think that he was a bit warped. I do like the final joke that was played on him by the philosophic community in Greece: he was given a rather florid funeral, befitting a noble given over to extravagance. For a man that chose to live in a barrel outside of the city this tribute is ironic: he would have hated it. Almost a final “Fuck you from Plato and the guys.”

So why is it that in any divine jest we must lose? Life is the most bitter of God’s little jokes. Just as we begin to understand we fade away. Maybe understanding is overrated. I think that it is enough to enjoy the ride, not to hurt anybody, and to try to leave the world just a bit better than you found it. But to anybody that is listening: please, no elaborate funerals for me. Have a really good dinner, with really good wine then run off without paying the bill! Do leave a tip for the wait staff, though.

If Not Happy then Content

There are people that lead charmed lives, lives that happenstance has blessed with good fortune. I am not one of these. There are things that are in my realm of control. There are things that are not. What I do has an effect on the outcome of my life. What is done around me can have a greater impact on that outcome. I am not happy. I am content. I laugh. I love. I live. What more can be expected?

There is a part of me that would rather spit in the eye of the serious and sedate or would just want to tip the cart over to watch how the apples would go a-rolling.

Self Absorbed of Late

I’ve been reading my posts from the past several months. I have been really self-absorbed. There is a really histrionic tone to some of the posts. I know that I was really in pain when many of these were written. Maybe I should have simply not posted. Maybe I should have edited. The period from January through March of this year has marked a nadir that borders on whining. It has to come to an end. I use my weblog as a journal. A journal is nothing if not a means by which thoughts can be sorted out. I never really understood this as a popular place to visit to provide candy for the voyeurs of emotional disintegration on the world-wide web. I fear that is what it is becoming. Another one of the cosmos’ little jokes perhaps? It needs to end.

That begs the question of what I am doing with MM. I don’t know. She is seeking some help, while I am supportive, I am not convinced that our relationship will do well to continue the way that it has been. There is a part of me that wants to disengage some, pull back a bit and watch the progress, if any, before making any final decisions. I was deeply hurt by her in January. This much is true. I have never quite found the same trust that I had. This is also true. But it may be equally true that I am expecting too much from the relationship and it would be healthier for both to stop taxing this relationship so harshly.

Enough of that: back to the stars… If this is the life in which I am to pay by karmic debts, then so be it. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy the ride.

- tDF

New Life in the Face of Doubt

2005-03-27T21:50:00.000-08:00

It is Easter Sunday: in 1916 the Irish rebelled against the British. Much blood was shed and nothing was accomplished beyond steeling the resolve of Sinn Fein to accomplish an Irish Republic. This failed, of course, and a compromise peace was arranged that ended much of the violence but fell short of complete independence.

Springtime and New Birth

This is the highest festival day in the Christian calendar: the climax of the Paschal Triduum that proclaims the resurrection of the Christ from the tomb. I am struck by not only this image today, but other precursor myths that speak of newness of life: Dionysius comes to mind, as does Orpheus. Aesculapius also comes to mind: the blameless physician that could heal the dead. Pity Zeus could not find peace with the healer’s art: he struck him dead with a thunderbolt.

For me it is the reality that death and life dance a Pas de Deux that leaves the spectator wondering where life and death begin and end. Springtime points to the virility of life, just as winter speaks of the constancy of death. Easter is a troubling time for me. I do not accept, literally at least, the myth of the Resurrection of the dead. I do not doubt that a God capable of creation is equally capable of resurrection; capability and accomplishment are quite different things. The question remains why a resurrection is necessary after all. I do not believe that spirituality is about my finding my nirvana or salvation alone. That is egoism baptized. Luther understood that, even if Lutherans don’t.

Bonhoeffer

I recall reading in Dietrich Bonhoeffer about the idea of a world come of age in which a new form of Christianity needed to be forged that looked beyond the myth to the common experience of humanity. Bonhoeffer would speak about suffering. I think that is limited; I think mortality and finitude are the key issues. A world come of age is one in which we not only feel the pain of others and seek to comfort it, but face the realities of life and death together seeking to build on that which is most common to human experience.

For me it does not matter is Jesus did or did not rise from the dead by the glory of the Father. What matters is how I live my life in a way that affirms the goodness of life and seeks to find peace and joy. My credo is not that Christ rose, but that I will do my best to help you; if I can’t help you, then I won’t hurt you. We are connected by the very stuff that makes us human or, better, terrestrial. That is enough. How the myths are articulated are is less important than that they speak of a unity of human experience.

Easter Sunday

No bunny rabbits here: just an innate wonderment at the green pushing out of the deathly nakedness of the trees in which life has waited for this moment to be born. The older I become the more I realize that I was never convinced of the veracity of the Christian myths. I respect them, but do not own them.

Life continues, even if we rise and fall. Is it not enough to stand in awe and wonder of whatever gods there may be that stand at the center of this great cycle of life? We are involved and part of something greater than any individual. To be a part of life’s great tapestry and to know that without us it is incomplete gives great value to the individual as well as the whole. We are part of something greater. We all matter. None is insignificant. Is that not a sort of resurrection?

It May Be Good Friday, But it Ain't Good Here

2005-03-25T20:59:00.000-08:00

I was at Jimi's Tattoo today. I went to have an earring put back in place. Jimi did my tats and my piercing. He is a good guy. He looks like a biker but he asks about my kids when I see him and extends genuine affection when I visit. I like the place. His business was dead today. I mentioned that it was Good Friday. He said, "It may be Good Friday, but it ain't good here." I had to laugh at the irony.

LACo Problems Put to Rest

I put the issues with LACo to rest today. I received the releases from the courts that I have been struggling to get since this whole sad story began in September. This is a major stressor off of my back. It is amazing how quickly I can get things done when I can get face to face with the person that has the authority to do business. This comes at a good time: I was facing unemployment over my credential if this was not resolved. Fortunately, it is done and over.

I have always been struck by the irony of calling this Friday good. What can be good about a day that we commemorate the crucifixion of a man whose dedication to peace and justice cost him his life?

I spoke to MM, bit only briefly, literally for a moment. All I told here was that which she had accused me of lying about was over.

Slow Day

While I have needed to take a day off of work to rest, today has seemed like it has moved at a snail's pace. I got a lot done, but I don't feel like it is enough. I am lonely and bored. I am looking forward to seeing Ana tomorrow. I need to do some shopping. The guys at Jimi's asked me to take her over to say hello and to see how she is doing. Jimi also asked if I wanted to play some bass for his new band. I am thinking about it: heavy rock is fun to play.

That's all for now. More thoughts later.
- tDF

Dazed and Confused

2005-03-24T15:50:00.000-08:00

Do you remember that song, "Dazed and Confused"? It is my theme-song of late. I have gone from never wanting to see MM again to a sort of tentative truce. But it is just that; a tentative truce.

Angry and Definitive

My last posting was angry and definitive; it said what my email to MM said: don't call me, period. I was truly hurt by what she had said. I never told her how deeply I had been hurt by her dumping me in January. I almost ended my life. That was the straw that damn near broke my back. To hear that I was being "dishonest" was more than I could bear. What did I learn from this?

Do not discuss emotionally laden issues when they are too fresh to control.
Write rather than talk; I can measure text. In the moment it is too easy to revert to anger to make my point.
End a conversation when I am getting angry (this will be hard). MM struck a chord that was deeper than our conversation. While I stand by my content, I abhor my method.
I am not over anger, even though I thought I was.

MM's Rage

MM turns anger inward. She will strike out at me, no doubt. But she also turns anger inward and can become frightening when she attacks herself. Following a difficult time trying to talk I wrote this letter:

You've just left and I feel the need to have a few words with you. As I doubt that you will want to talk on the phone or in person for a while I thought that it was best that I write. Writing puts a bit of distance that I hope will give a sense of safety.

I understand the rage that you feel. I will not say that I know what you are feeling; I don't, I only know how it feels in me. We differ in that I tend to explode at people; you take it out on yourself. Both are damaging. Both are painful. I am not a psychologist nor do I claim any insight into that discipline. I do know what anger is like. You became very angry this evening, just like I did a couple of days ago. For me the anger always taps into the trauma that I experienced in the past. I think that it may be similar for you as well.

I don't think that you are over K. How could you be after so short a time? You were together for over twenty years. You shared a life and had many happy years. I think that you still have some unresolved anger toward him that is coming out in ways that you do not intend or of which you may even be aware. A prime example happened today when I tried to tell you about your conversation with KL's brother-in-law: your teeth gritted, your face flushed red and your voice became a growl. I don't know if you were aware of this, but the change was frightening.

I don't think you are crazy. I think you were profoundly wounded and have every right to be angry at K for what happened. I also think that you need to look at that anger to let it go so it does not go on hurting you.

For the record, you are not stupid. You are one of the most capable and intelligent women that I know. These are no mere words; I do not use them lightly. I hope that you will consider what I have observed as words from one sufferer to another; I know this terrain. I thought that I was over it. I am not. I am considering beginning another round of therapy to deal with the anger that your questioning touched off. I don't believe that I was angry at you alone, something you said set off anger that is deeply seeded, anger that I thought was dissipated (for which you bear no responsibility). It is not dissipated. It needs to be done away with. I need to address my issues. I would encourage you to think about addressing yours.

It is not normal or healthy to pull hair or to strike one's self. This is rage being acted out on the only person that you will willingly hurt: yourself. MM, for the sake of those that love you, please seek help: a counselor, a pastor, a therapist, or in whatever form that is comfortable for you. There are times when the only proof of one's courage and strength is their willingness to seek help. For me it was the hardest thing I had ever done. I know it will be hard for you, as well. It is not weakness. It requires great courage to face one's demons. And I know that you possess a noble and strong heart.

Please take these observations as they are intended: words from a friend that knows pain similar to that which you feel. Please think about how best to help yourself.

She denied that she needed help. I am convinced that she does. I have watched her self-injurious behaviors and have wondered whether or not to call 911. She has made comments about doing away with herself. In any other setting it would be grounds for a 51-50. Her feeling that if she seeks help that she will be admitting that she is "stupid" or "crazy" seems to be a way of justifying her behavior and making it OK, while looking at people like me that have sought therapy as weak. While she would not say this, nor do I think that she may intend it, it comes across that way.

Confused and Dazed

We are nowhere near "on track". As I mentioned, she did some profound damage to my ability to trust following the events in January. She tried to equate my email with that. While I can understand how she might do that, I see them as qualitatively different: mine was angry, hurt, and definitive. It also followed a request to back off unless she understood that to accuse me of dishonesty was the same, in my mind, as telling me that there was no ground upon which to stand in our relationship. She chose to go on. My email simply confirmed what she had done and was the consequence of her slander.

I have no idea where we are now. I don't know whether it is best to move on, to suggest that we create some space (make this less exclusive and more open to other possibilities), or act as if this is worth sustaining and continue acting until I can believe it.

My thinking in this moment is that things will never be the same. But that is true in the course of life, nothing remains the same. I am learning that relationships, like life itself, are finite and have a span of time for which they are durable. My best relationships are friendly and not overly well defined. I suppose that one needs to be forgiving to be my partner. I don't know what is fair to ask, what is fair to expect. Being single is harder than I ever thought it would be.

I am upset. MM blew me off again. Damn, this pisses me off. I remained calm on the phone, more than I can say she did, but I am truly upset. What part of "mean what you say, say what you mean" is unclear? She told me that she would call me when she was leaving school. I called her cell phone, noting that a good deal of time had passed. She went home and had a fight with the miscreant son: a child that is allowed too much leeway and faces no consequences because they cause too much stress for MM (it really is as absurd as it sounds). An aside is necessary here: would it not make sense to get the miscreant son under control? That would diminish the stress level overall, one would think. Not so, apparently. But I digress.

I call, get MM on the phone and ask what happened. She tells me that she is upset and needs to deal with M. I asked why she didn't call. It had been well over the time that she said she would be there and I was getting worried. I get her anger and I am supposed to be understanding as I am being blown off again. I have asked time and time again that she not say that she'll do one thing and then do another. Would a phone call really have cost her that much, say, "Hey P., I need to get M. Can I get in touch later?" Apparently that is too damn much to ask. My time is worth nothing (as I was at home waiting for her call) and she can do whatever the fuck she wants without regard for the frustration that it causes me. But my requests are worth nothing to her.

Why the hell am I doing this? This is the sort of thing that really pisses me off.

I've been thinking about this. I called MM to see how much time she'd need this evening. She responded three to four days. Days. I am sick of being seen as a cause of stress. I am sick of having my time disregarded. I am sick of the sense that I am the "junior partner" whose wishes are frankly not that important. I sent MM an email. The text is enclosed:

While I understand that you have created a situation that is stressful, I have to say that I find your request for three to four days unreasonable. I think that we need to talk tomorrow, Friday. I will be home after the noon hour. I would like to take some time then to have a conversation. I will be home if you want to speak by phone about any of this and would, of course, be happy to send my concerns via email if that would be helpful. I will look forward to speaking tomorrow.

Her response follows:

First of all I am sensing a lot of demands on me. Certainly after a year of time I would hope that you'd know that I will need chill time when I get stressed. You have kindly asked me to let you know when that happens. I have done so. I need some time to be by myself for a while. What I don't need is someone with a microscope just waiting for me to trip up and then get upset at me when I do. Please just let me chill for a few days. The constant phone calls and emails will just create more anxiety at this time. You know the feeling of wanting to not be social, please respect my same need. Also I am feeling that whatever I do is upsetting to you or wrong in your mind. That is in itself stressful.

I got her email, waited a bit and responded thusly:

There was a time when a phone call or email from me was a source of joy and not a demand. Sadly, that time seems to have passed.

Constant phone calls? I called once, ten minutes after we spoke to see what you needed. You had said nothing about needed more time. I was under the misaprehension that you wanted to see me this evening and was still waiting to see how long that would be. I was expecting time measured in hours, not days and certainly not with the anger with which you spoke.

Constant emails? One in an evening.

Being placed under a microscope and waiting for you to trip up? That is malicious and hardly my intent. I would have thought you knew me better.

Take your time, take all the time you need; but be aware of the stress that your behavior has caused for me and our relationship. I offered you help. You rebuffed me. I offer a hand, you slapped it back.

We still have need to talk.

I guess it does not matter whether we speak in a day or a week: I am ending our relationship. I will offer a friendship. But to plan my life around this, to put up with the nonsense that I have endured since January, to carry on this way expecting a change is lunacy. It had its moments, but there is a time to say goodbye. I feel that ours has come.

I Will Not Be Accused of Dishonesty

2005-03-20T16:08:00.000-08:00

My good name is the only thing that I have in the world of any value. My word is my bond. Apart from this there is nothing of value. I will not be accused of dishonesty and will not stand with people that make that accusation, directly or tacitly, against me.

MM crossed the line today. I was upset because she had changed plans that we had made without any regard for the commitment made. I asked her to talk about it. It turned ugly. During the course of the conversation she accused me of not being forthright with her. She asked whether I had or had not made support payments. We have been over this terrain in the past. I have told her the truth: I have made payments to the extent that I was able. I did not tell her that I have had to sell instruments, cut services, other details that seemed unimportant to share. She is entitled to only the part of the truth that concerns her. That was told to her. She had been told the truth: payments have been made. She had the unmitigated gall to accuse me of dishonesty by asking whether I had or had not made payments.

I will not be with anybody that is unable to trust my word. Trust is the only thing in a relationship that can sustain it. Without trust there is nothing. Her accusations tell me that she does not trust my word. There is, therefore, no ground upon which to build anything that resembles a free and open relationship.

MM has broken trust with me in the past. The past several postings since January bear witness to that. I have tried to rebuild, but have been hurt deeply by this woman. I frankly see no way that this can be sustained if this is how she feels.

I asked her to return all that is mine and not to be in contact with me apart from necessary communications regarding a debt that I owe to her and my vehicle which died in front of her home.

To hell with her.

If she feels that I am a liar then she can go to hell for all I care. I will not have my honor and honesty questioned in my home, in my little "shit-box apartment" as she has called my home. That is simply beyond what is acceptable, tolerable, or sustainable. It is not me that is not good enough for her, but that she was never good enough for me.

I am done with her. Period. Renuncio toda la emocion perdida en ella. Que se vaya al demonio por lo que me dijo.

A Kinder, Gentler Fascism?

2005-03-15T21:36:00.000-08:00

I have been teaching the history of World Wars One and Two (I really consider these to be the same event, but that is a matter of opinion) to my high-school history class. I am disturbed, of late, as I review the development of Fascism. It feels to me much like what is happening in our country.

Mussolini and the Fascists

Benito Mussolini is seen by many as the founder of Fascism. He began as a socialist that rejected the idealism of socialism and embraced the totalitarianism of communism, while opting for an elitism rather than egalitarian embrace of the proletariat. Mussolini understood that the State in cooperation with financial powers would control the nation in a way that benefited the corporations and thusly the people: when the tide rises all ships rise, so to speak. The State was of importance, not individual rights. Indeed, individual rights were secondary to the wellbeing of the nation. Nationalism coupled with Industrialism and Authoritarianism makes for Fascism. What is good for the industrial interests of a nation is good for the nation. The sovereignty of the nation is paramount to the good of the State. Thus, globalism in any incarnation is looked on with incredulity. A treaty like Kyoto that limits a nation's ability to generate income, even though there is an arguable stronger benefit to be realized - clean air and water - is viewed through the lens of sovereignty: what limits a nation's ability to produce limits the nation itself.

And with that You See Where I Am Going.

The Bush administration seems to be taking a route of fascism with our nation's economic and foreign policy. The use of disinformation and duplicity in prosecuting a war that is intended to generate resources for the corporate imperialism of this nation seems to have said that the truth is less important than the gross national product. While Eisenhower warned against the development of a military/industrial complex, the rest of the nation continued to allow and condone its development. Our nation's economy is a war economy. A sustained military action creates the need for products. The nature of war - destruction - creates demand. Demand drives the market and profitability.

Consider the limitation of civil rights that is slowly - imperceptibly - taking place in this nation: why do we need the so-called "Patriot Act" that allows invasion of privacy and limitation of personal freedoms? What are we so afraid of? Does this not sound like the Newspeak of 1984 harping on the "reality" of the war against "Eurasia"? We are at war with an enemy that is not identified by nation or place; we are at war with an idea: terrorism. That sounds onerous enough. Of course we despise terrorists. They are a convincing enemy that serves the propaganda needs of the State well enough to be an opiate to our desire for personal freedom, all while sending our sons and daughters to die for the wellbeing of corporate avarice.

The First Step Is to Tell the Truth

We are beginning to embrace a fascist state in this country. The first step in defeating that is to say the truth shamelessly. My patriotism is not defined by an amorphous enemy; it is sustained by the civil liberties that allow me to call the president an ass without fears of reprisals. The most American of all rights is the right of dissent. Without this, all other rights fall by the wayside. The right of dissent allows loyal opposition and correction when our nation errs. Mussolini wanted to make of the State an infallible religion that dictated what was truth; right or wrong, the State was not to be questioned. That sort of blind allegiance leads to totalitarianism and to the Hitlerian nightmare that Germany faced in the early part of the last century. We are not yet there. But it could happen here.

Our best choice is to question authority, to ask the questions and question the answers. Loyalty is nothing if not honest enough to level an honest critique. I love my country. I fear that it has taken a dreadfully wrong turn and needs to course correct before the rights guaranteed by the constitution become no more than pretty word that lack substance in our daily lives.

There is no such thing as kinder, gentler fascism: all totalitarianism is evil. It must be opposed. We must start, in my humble opinion, here at home.

My Homage to Loyal Friends

2005-03-03T22:18:00.000-08:00

There are some things that are with you so long that they seem to become part of who you are. I have had precious few possessions that inspire that sort of loyalty. My Toyota was one. It died yesterday, in a blaze of glory, spewing flames and fumes from the hood of the engine that ran for nearly 400,000 miles.

I Should Have Known Something Was Wrong

She just did not sound like herself. She was making an odd, labored sound as she struggled to get me from work to MM's home. There was an odd, grinding sound. Then, when I tried to turn her off, the engine refused to stop. At first I thought that the starter was jammed on and that it was burning itself out (I still need to check that). I never saw a flame, though MM says that she thought that she saw something. There was a huge amount of fetid smoke; it poured out of a place behind the head of the engine. Black, grimy, and sour: this grimy smoke poured out with the lifeblood of my car.

She had been a faithful vehicle. I was loyal to her as she was to me. I purchased Little Blue one day, almost on a whim. My Mazda 323 had been pushed to well past 300,000 miles. She had had more than could be expected. She began her death throws on the way home from the courthouse when I had gone in for my first divorce, the first hearing. There seemed to be something symbolic about that. We, LA and I, had purchased Garfield (the Mazda's name) when we had just returned to California. I had driven her; originally she was to be my car, then LA's then she returned to me. It almost seemed that she was the period that ended that point of my life. So it is with Little Blue.

Little Blue and the Events of My Life

Little Blue was there when I returned to pastoral ministry. She was there when I married and divorced a second time. She was there when I began my career change. She was there when I met MM. She and I survived a rather severe wreck. I was told that the reason that I did survive was that I was driving a Toyota Corolla. She was a perky car that drove well and never showed her age. She was fun to drive, despite the fact that she was the first automatic that I have owned (I want to return to a manual transmission). For all of the changes that the last ten years have held, Little Blue was there. During her long life I only replaced an alternator, starter points, and a universal joint. The car just kept running and running and running.

Funny, I'll miss her more than I will several people that have come and gone in my life. I think that it was that she was so faithful, so reliable when nothing else in my life was. She came to symbolize a stability that had eluded me and for which I longed. When Little Blue died she did so in front of MM's home, as if to say, "Here is where the first steps of the next part of the journey begin."

Here's to the things that become more than what they were intended to be and are the metaphors for our lives. Here's to you Little Blue. Thanks for being more than just a car. You served me well and went out in a blaze of glory. Damn, is there a better way?