--by Mike Adams
I smiled, when first I read that this week’s GBE2 prompt is shenanigans. This would be fun, a light-hearted topic, where I could revel in youthful pranks and funny memories. So after a quick trip down memory lane, I went to Thesaurus.com. There, I learned that the word shenanigan is complex and encompasses a range of “pranks” that include lighthearted, mischievous fun, and vile deceit or outrageous damage.
This piqued my curiosity and sent me to mirriam-webster.com , dictionary.com and etymonline.com in order to learn more about this word that I thought I knew.
I had always believed shenanigan to be an Irish word. Something that Darby O’Gill would utter with a tinge of affection while recounting his adventures with Ireland’s “little people”. It turns out that the earliest record of shenanigan is dated 1855 and it originated in San Francisco or Sacramento. Mark one against my home brewed etymology. Next, there doesn’t appear to be much information about shenanigan, except that it possibly is derived from “chanada” or “charranada”, meaning trick or deceit. “Hmmm, chanada, there is a word I haven’t heard in a long time…in fact, I’ve never heard it!”
OK, time to hit Merriam-webster and dictionary.com, both of which define shenanigan as either a youthful and lighthearted prank or a devious and underhanded trick. Wow, I hadn’t known that shenanigans could be so dark.
It turns out that the list of synonyms for Shenanigan includes: atrocity, catastrophe and devilry. To my surprise, there is even a book titled “Financial Shenanigans: How to Detect Accounting Gimmicks & Fraud in Financial Reports”. This book even has a second edition.
This shows me how I've limited my use of the word shenanigan over the years. I think perhaps I should practice deploying this word in a more diverse venue. Say, a threat, “Just be aware, no one will like that…if you proceed, you may well find yourself on the wrong end of a shenanigan!” or “Don’t cross him, his shenanigry runs deep and it is filled with vile and heinous deceit.”
Thanks GBE2, you have broadened my understanding of a rather common word. I’ll use my newfound knowledge only for good though, because as we all know, “with great power, comes great responsibility.”
Politics, Religion, Common Sense. Can they all mix? I think so. Please read and definitely leave comments! Thanks!!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Confrontation - a frightful visage!
--by Mike Adams
Confrontation! ...Sometimes the very word sends a tiny spike of adrenaline racing through my body. It is not a topic that I relish, nor one I would typically write about. In fact, for me, it is fraught, occurring as something to be feared and avoided. However, Ms. Word Nerd has spoken, and confrontation is this week’s GBE2 writing prompt, so I’ll put my head down and proceed.
What first comes to mind when I think of confrontation are the myriad regrets and half remembered humiliations from my life. Times, when I over reacted, or times that I failed to take a stand, each leaving its own chink in the armor of my self esteem.
In this, I certainly am not unique. Everyone regrets certain episodes in life, where they acted foolish either by way of melodrama or by way of cowardice. My first strong memories of this are from seventh grade. Middle School is a tough period for human development and my Middle School years were terrible. By the end of seventh grade, I had gained nearly one hundred pounds easily placing me in the category of obesity. This marked me as a prime target for verbal and physical abuse. My peers relentlessly taunted me to the point where I could barely hold back the tears, which would only have encouraged their cruelty. In class, the teachers did nothing, leaving us to “sort out our interpersonal difficulties.” At lunch, other students punched me, kicked me, spit on me, shoved me and threw me to the ground each day. They smeared ketchup in my hair, held me down and poured drinks on my crotch and relentlessly called me, Fatso, Faggot, Dough boy, Stinky, Indian blood fart, etc...
I hated life—I hated school—but mostly, I hated myself.
Occasionally, I would seek out a weaker victim and pick on them hoping to feel some relief, a sense of power, but this always backfired, leaving me more depressed...not only did I feel like a loser, but I had also been a complete ass, so I stopped.
Thankfully, High school brought reprieve. I was reasonably well liked, I achieved a healthy weight and I joined the swim team, the track team and the cross country running team. On a primal level, however, my self image was unaltered. I knew, with the same certainty that I held for gravity, that if anyone really knew me, I’d be rejected, ostracized, ridiculed again.
Living in constant fear of exposure and disgrace really twists a person’s ability to live in harmony with their own values. So I avoided all confrontation at any cost. My younger sister, had been my best friend since childhood and in high school, she was generally liked but the so called “cool people” didn’t “hang with her”, so I didn’t spend much time with her either. The hardest memories, however, are a few occasions, when I overheard someone make rude or condescending comments about her. I wanted to say “Cut it out! ...that's my sister you're talking about!” But I was afraid, so I looked away and kept quiet. Every time that happened, my spirit died a little...my self esteem took a dip.
Twenty three years later, as my two older kids were approaching Middle School age, I began to worry about how they would fare. I began worrying about how they would navigate the Middle School years. In an effort to bully-proof my kids, I began talking about how all three of us could study Tae Kwon Do together. After some cajoling, they agreed and we all three enrolled in a class at the local YMCA.
Several years have passed since that and today, my middle son is preparing to enter Middle School. He holds a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do. My eldest will begin High School next year and he holds a black belt. I could not be more proud!
What has surprised me most, however, is the effect that studying martial arts has had on me. A few years ago, while sitting in our mini-van waiting for everyone to come out of Target, I had a life changing thought. Out of the blue, it occurred to me that, I could defend myself if I had to.
With that thought, I found freedom. I shattered the oppressive shackles that had held me for decades...the cumbersome chains that had kept me small fell from me and though I had never been aware of their existence, I couldn't imagine how I had lived with them for so many years.
I began to view the world in terms of what I’m willing to work for and what I’m willing to fight for. Life’s difficulties and challenges have increasingly occurred as a punch or side kick. My job, step aside or block, redirecting the force away from me. Avoid personal injury and react quickly with a well delivered counter.
I no longer cower in some secluded corner waiting for confrontation to pass. I still have to contend with that frightened, beaten, and emotionally damaged twelve year, who yearns for invisibility. But today, I am also a loving and powerful forty year old man, who has earned a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and who carries with him, the courage of conviction.
I have become the kind of person, who can be counted on to say what I think. I can be counted on to try and see others as an expression of their commitments. Today, I try to view people as a reservoir of possibility and potential—as reflections of who they want to be. I try to inspire the best in those around me, because I believe that everyone can be great, that each of us are capable of miracles. Perhaps I'm part fool, but I believe that somehow, I can make a difference in this world, that somehow, despite our perilous course, I and people who believe as I do can leave this world a better place for the next generation.
Today I am generally happy with myself. Though I have many flaws, I am content. This journey has forced me to confront my sense of worthlessness. I've had to confront my tendency and capacity to live in delusion. I've had to speak my mind, especially when I felt terrified. I've had to point out the hypocrisy of people I admire and whose approval I desperately want. Somehow, I have emerged, a burgeoning leader within my own Unitarian Universalist Congregation.
I continue to be plagued with the fear that I’ll be exposed as a loser and be ostracized...laughed out of countenance. However, the gentle warrior, the man, who loves and would do anything for his family, the man who never followed through on anything until his late thirties, when finally he persevered to earn a black belt. The man, who believes we might yet change this world for the better, if we believe and work for it. He keeps getting stronger and he keeps getting more persuasive.
So here are a few things that he wants me to tell you.
1) I believe that human beings are neither inherently good, nor inherently bad. We have a choice to make from one moment to the next. We choose whether to be good or bad. We each have the capacity to be ruthlessly selfish and perform acts of unthinkable cruelty, or to perform human miracles, to inspire the best in others and to extend compassion to someone when they need it most, no matter how low they may have sunk. This is important, because I believe that by ignoring our capacity for evil, we risk being its servant, even while we try to do the right thing.
2) I believe it is simple to make a big difference in another person’s life. Seventeen years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I stopped one day to talk with a homeless guy, Bob, whom I had seen every day for a year.
Bob surprised me. It turns out, he had earned a Bachelor’s degree in sociology and later became a fire fighter in a small town. He loved being a fire fighter, however one night at a house fire, he had made a mistake and a two year old girl was killed. Bob couldn’t live with this, he tried therapy and anti-depressants but he was haunted by the image of that little girl’s mom collapsing to the ground, wailing in agony, thoroughly inconsolable.
He drank and used drugs to blot out this memory and by the time I met him, Bob had been living on the streets for more than ten years. As I was getting ready to leave and continue with my day, Bob began crying. He told me that I was the first person to and talk with him for as long as he could remember. I was the first person to make him feel human, so he asked if he could call me a friend. Every time I saw Bob from that day forward, his face lit up and he donned a buoyant grin.
So looking back on that day, there are a few things that seem important. First, to speak with Bob that day, I had to confront my own bigotry towards homeless people. Additionally, I had to deal with my own discomfort concerning Bob's personal hygiene. But in the end, I somehow stumbled into making a profound difference for another human being and I got to be a better person for having done so.
So while confrontation is something that I would prefer to avoid at all costs, in the end, it seems that opportunity hides within its frightful visage. So I encourage anyone who will listen to welcome confrontation, to embrace it as an old friend who always offers transformation. Ask the hard questions, the ones that seem impossible to answer.
If you don’t like the answers, ask them again. Why do we tolerate having so many people, particularly young children living in abject poverty? Why do we tolerate the fact that fifteen million children die of starvation each year? Why haven’t we ended slavery yet? In the USA, we have a law called “no child left behind” and yet we are leaving thousands behind each year, for want of early childhood education, proper nourishment, a safe place to learn, etc...why is this acceptable?
I’ll leave you with these words from the preface of a book that I may finish writing some day.
I am motivated to write this book, not because I believe myself a skilled author or profound thinker. Rather, my reasons are very personal, they consume my time and energy, they motivate my focus on career and they simultaneously invigorate, and deplete my personal energy reserves. Regardless of any immediate emotional state I may be experiencing, they motivate my efforts to become a better person and provide a continued reason for my identification as a Unitarian Universalist. In short, they constitute the foundation for my unyielding commitment to try and make a difference in this world.
My motivations are named, Rowan, Devin and Mikalh. They are my three exasperating, inspiring, draining and beautiful children. To me, they embody humanity’s future and they serve as a constant reminder that my generation’s legacy, though still unwritten, may prove a burdensome load for its inheritors.
Confrontation! ...Sometimes the very word sends a tiny spike of adrenaline racing through my body. It is not a topic that I relish, nor one I would typically write about. In fact, for me, it is fraught, occurring as something to be feared and avoided. However, Ms. Word Nerd has spoken, and confrontation is this week’s GBE2 writing prompt, so I’ll put my head down and proceed.
What first comes to mind when I think of confrontation are the myriad regrets and half remembered humiliations from my life. Times, when I over reacted, or times that I failed to take a stand, each leaving its own chink in the armor of my self esteem.
In this, I certainly am not unique. Everyone regrets certain episodes in life, where they acted foolish either by way of melodrama or by way of cowardice. My first strong memories of this are from seventh grade. Middle School is a tough period for human development and my Middle School years were terrible. By the end of seventh grade, I had gained nearly one hundred pounds easily placing me in the category of obesity. This marked me as a prime target for verbal and physical abuse. My peers relentlessly taunted me to the point where I could barely hold back the tears, which would only have encouraged their cruelty. In class, the teachers did nothing, leaving us to “sort out our interpersonal difficulties.” At lunch, other students punched me, kicked me, spit on me, shoved me and threw me to the ground each day. They smeared ketchup in my hair, held me down and poured drinks on my crotch and relentlessly called me, Fatso, Faggot, Dough boy, Stinky, Indian blood fart, etc...
I hated life—I hated school—but mostly, I hated myself.
Occasionally, I would seek out a weaker victim and pick on them hoping to feel some relief, a sense of power, but this always backfired, leaving me more depressed...not only did I feel like a loser, but I had also been a complete ass, so I stopped.
Thankfully, High school brought reprieve. I was reasonably well liked, I achieved a healthy weight and I joined the swim team, the track team and the cross country running team. On a primal level, however, my self image was unaltered. I knew, with the same certainty that I held for gravity, that if anyone really knew me, I’d be rejected, ostracized, ridiculed again.
Living in constant fear of exposure and disgrace really twists a person’s ability to live in harmony with their own values. So I avoided all confrontation at any cost. My younger sister, had been my best friend since childhood and in high school, she was generally liked but the so called “cool people” didn’t “hang with her”, so I didn’t spend much time with her either. The hardest memories, however, are a few occasions, when I overheard someone make rude or condescending comments about her. I wanted to say “Cut it out! ...that's my sister you're talking about!” But I was afraid, so I looked away and kept quiet. Every time that happened, my spirit died a little...my self esteem took a dip.
Twenty three years later, as my two older kids were approaching Middle School age, I began to worry about how they would fare. I began worrying about how they would navigate the Middle School years. In an effort to bully-proof my kids, I began talking about how all three of us could study Tae Kwon Do together. After some cajoling, they agreed and we all three enrolled in a class at the local YMCA.
Several years have passed since that and today, my middle son is preparing to enter Middle School. He holds a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do. My eldest will begin High School next year and he holds a black belt. I could not be more proud!
What has surprised me most, however, is the effect that studying martial arts has had on me. A few years ago, while sitting in our mini-van waiting for everyone to come out of Target, I had a life changing thought. Out of the blue, it occurred to me that, I could defend myself if I had to.
With that thought, I found freedom. I shattered the oppressive shackles that had held me for decades...the cumbersome chains that had kept me small fell from me and though I had never been aware of their existence, I couldn't imagine how I had lived with them for so many years.
I began to view the world in terms of what I’m willing to work for and what I’m willing to fight for. Life’s difficulties and challenges have increasingly occurred as a punch or side kick. My job, step aside or block, redirecting the force away from me. Avoid personal injury and react quickly with a well delivered counter.
I no longer cower in some secluded corner waiting for confrontation to pass. I still have to contend with that frightened, beaten, and emotionally damaged twelve year, who yearns for invisibility. But today, I am also a loving and powerful forty year old man, who has earned a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and who carries with him, the courage of conviction.
I have become the kind of person, who can be counted on to say what I think. I can be counted on to try and see others as an expression of their commitments. Today, I try to view people as a reservoir of possibility and potential—as reflections of who they want to be. I try to inspire the best in those around me, because I believe that everyone can be great, that each of us are capable of miracles. Perhaps I'm part fool, but I believe that somehow, I can make a difference in this world, that somehow, despite our perilous course, I and people who believe as I do can leave this world a better place for the next generation.
Today I am generally happy with myself. Though I have many flaws, I am content. This journey has forced me to confront my sense of worthlessness. I've had to confront my tendency and capacity to live in delusion. I've had to speak my mind, especially when I felt terrified. I've had to point out the hypocrisy of people I admire and whose approval I desperately want. Somehow, I have emerged, a burgeoning leader within my own Unitarian Universalist Congregation.
I continue to be plagued with the fear that I’ll be exposed as a loser and be ostracized...laughed out of countenance. However, the gentle warrior, the man, who loves and would do anything for his family, the man who never followed through on anything until his late thirties, when finally he persevered to earn a black belt. The man, who believes we might yet change this world for the better, if we believe and work for it. He keeps getting stronger and he keeps getting more persuasive.
So here are a few things that he wants me to tell you.
1) I believe that human beings are neither inherently good, nor inherently bad. We have a choice to make from one moment to the next. We choose whether to be good or bad. We each have the capacity to be ruthlessly selfish and perform acts of unthinkable cruelty, or to perform human miracles, to inspire the best in others and to extend compassion to someone when they need it most, no matter how low they may have sunk. This is important, because I believe that by ignoring our capacity for evil, we risk being its servant, even while we try to do the right thing.
2) I believe it is simple to make a big difference in another person’s life. Seventeen years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I stopped one day to talk with a homeless guy, Bob, whom I had seen every day for a year.
Bob surprised me. It turns out, he had earned a Bachelor’s degree in sociology and later became a fire fighter in a small town. He loved being a fire fighter, however one night at a house fire, he had made a mistake and a two year old girl was killed. Bob couldn’t live with this, he tried therapy and anti-depressants but he was haunted by the image of that little girl’s mom collapsing to the ground, wailing in agony, thoroughly inconsolable.
He drank and used drugs to blot out this memory and by the time I met him, Bob had been living on the streets for more than ten years. As I was getting ready to leave and continue with my day, Bob began crying. He told me that I was the first person to and talk with him for as long as he could remember. I was the first person to make him feel human, so he asked if he could call me a friend. Every time I saw Bob from that day forward, his face lit up and he donned a buoyant grin.
So looking back on that day, there are a few things that seem important. First, to speak with Bob that day, I had to confront my own bigotry towards homeless people. Additionally, I had to deal with my own discomfort concerning Bob's personal hygiene. But in the end, I somehow stumbled into making a profound difference for another human being and I got to be a better person for having done so.
So while confrontation is something that I would prefer to avoid at all costs, in the end, it seems that opportunity hides within its frightful visage. So I encourage anyone who will listen to welcome confrontation, to embrace it as an old friend who always offers transformation. Ask the hard questions, the ones that seem impossible to answer.
If you don’t like the answers, ask them again. Why do we tolerate having so many people, particularly young children living in abject poverty? Why do we tolerate the fact that fifteen million children die of starvation each year? Why haven’t we ended slavery yet? In the USA, we have a law called “no child left behind” and yet we are leaving thousands behind each year, for want of early childhood education, proper nourishment, a safe place to learn, etc...why is this acceptable?
I’ll leave you with these words from the preface of a book that I may finish writing some day.
I am motivated to write this book, not because I believe myself a skilled author or profound thinker. Rather, my reasons are very personal, they consume my time and energy, they motivate my focus on career and they simultaneously invigorate, and deplete my personal energy reserves. Regardless of any immediate emotional state I may be experiencing, they motivate my efforts to become a better person and provide a continued reason for my identification as a Unitarian Universalist. In short, they constitute the foundation for my unyielding commitment to try and make a difference in this world.
My motivations are named, Rowan, Devin and Mikalh. They are my three exasperating, inspiring, draining and beautiful children. To me, they embody humanity’s future and they serve as a constant reminder that my generation’s legacy, though still unwritten, may prove a burdensome load for its inheritors.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Simplicity - GBE2 Writing Prompt
--by Mike Adams
This week's GBE2 prompt, simplicity, inspired numerous thoughts, each of which seemed, to me, simply brilliant. So on Saturday evening, in the eleventh hour, when the posting was due, and after having recorded none of my ideas. I realized, with amusement, that had I committed them all to writing...you would be in the unfortunate position of reading a college term paper about simplicity, which charts a course of complexity, that makes Odysseus’ famed trip look like a mere row around the community pond.
Alas, I have been to busy with life’s required tasks to inflict that on anyone, which is a good thing. So my simplicity post, will have to be simple...how appropriate!
Tomorrow morning, my fourteen year old will be completing a coming of age program and he, along with other youth participants, will be delivering their “This I believe” statements at our church service. This has been a long path, filled with intellectual conversations about challenging topics, difficult questions and examinations of personal values, honest reflection on how our youth might react in various morally difficult situations and the logistical equivalent of juggling five bouncy balls, while wearing base ball mitts. In the end, though, it has been worthwhile. Tomorrow, I get to sit back and watch with pride as my eldest son declares himself to this world. He is simply growing up and moving into the next phase of his life. This is exciting to witness, and inspiring to be a part of.
Today my middle son, who is at his dad’s for the week, called to let my wife and I know that his team won their soccer game. Last year, they didn’t win any games, so this was a BIG DEAL. Later this month, I will complete a two year sentence as a board member for the soccer club. Finally my kid’s team is coalescing into a competitive force and this is great. It really fulfills on so much of what I’ve wanted for him as a soccer player. It is deeply gratifying to see him revel in elation over such a simple pleasure.
This morning, my “little boo”, who is six years old, came and cuddled up next to me on the couch. We talked about Star Wars, about how he wishes he could have a real light saber, except that he’d be worried about accidentally killing someone, because he would forget it is real and accidentally cut someone in half. This made me chuckle and love him all the more. Next, he expressed how glad he is that we don’t still have legal slavery in this country...”Things are better than they were before, right Dad!?” He has a brilliant and warm smile. A gentle soul and a streak of creativity, which might fill Claude Monet with jealousy.
These brothers are the source of my deepest motivation in life. They are simultaneously exasperating, inspiring, draining and beautiful. To me, they symbolize humanity’s future.
I love them.
This week's GBE2 prompt, simplicity, inspired numerous thoughts, each of which seemed, to me, simply brilliant. So on Saturday evening, in the eleventh hour, when the posting was due, and after having recorded none of my ideas. I realized, with amusement, that had I committed them all to writing...you would be in the unfortunate position of reading a college term paper about simplicity, which charts a course of complexity, that makes Odysseus’ famed trip look like a mere row around the community pond.
Alas, I have been to busy with life’s required tasks to inflict that on anyone, which is a good thing. So my simplicity post, will have to be simple...how appropriate!
Tomorrow morning, my fourteen year old will be completing a coming of age program and he, along with other youth participants, will be delivering their “This I believe” statements at our church service. This has been a long path, filled with intellectual conversations about challenging topics, difficult questions and examinations of personal values, honest reflection on how our youth might react in various morally difficult situations and the logistical equivalent of juggling five bouncy balls, while wearing base ball mitts. In the end, though, it has been worthwhile. Tomorrow, I get to sit back and watch with pride as my eldest son declares himself to this world. He is simply growing up and moving into the next phase of his life. This is exciting to witness, and inspiring to be a part of.
Today my middle son, who is at his dad’s for the week, called to let my wife and I know that his team won their soccer game. Last year, they didn’t win any games, so this was a BIG DEAL. Later this month, I will complete a two year sentence as a board member for the soccer club. Finally my kid’s team is coalescing into a competitive force and this is great. It really fulfills on so much of what I’ve wanted for him as a soccer player. It is deeply gratifying to see him revel in elation over such a simple pleasure.
This morning, my “little boo”, who is six years old, came and cuddled up next to me on the couch. We talked about Star Wars, about how he wishes he could have a real light saber, except that he’d be worried about accidentally killing someone, because he would forget it is real and accidentally cut someone in half. This made me chuckle and love him all the more. Next, he expressed how glad he is that we don’t still have legal slavery in this country...”Things are better than they were before, right Dad!?” He has a brilliant and warm smile. A gentle soul and a streak of creativity, which might fill Claude Monet with jealousy.
These brothers are the source of my deepest motivation in life. They are simultaneously exasperating, inspiring, draining and beautiful. To me, they symbolize humanity’s future.
I love them.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
A sordid tale of lacerations, Hungarian hip-hop performers and an icy petting zoo
--by Mike Adams
GBE2 - #40 Posting Topic: "Jane's Story" This idea caught my imagination and I had fun writing this...I hope you enjoy it!
Before I delve too deeply into the details of this story, I think it best to ensure that we are all on the same page. Though this is probably pointless, because if you are one of the two or three people who read my blog, you are obviously on this page, so perhaps I’ll proceed to the next order of business, namely, providing a short explanation of Hungarian hip-hop artistry as it has been revealed to me during my life’s most recent ...and dare I say confusing travail.
First, I’d like to assure you that I am no eccentric nincompoop, whose idea of being uber-cool entails being a fan of obscure, and probably sub-par, artistry. Rather my exposure to an Eastern-Block interpretation of African American entertainment, was entirely coincidental to my attending the grand opening of an “Arctic Petting Zoo” in down town Phoenix last week.
I’m sure you are thinking, “What was that lunatic doing in Phoenix, when he lives in New Mexico, and did he really drive that hapless excuse for a car to phoenix in order to witness the grand opening of an arctic refuge in a completely in appropriate biome?” Unfortunately, the answer here is yes...I am the dork, who traveled hundreds of miles in a rattling and squealing heap of petrol powered steel in order to witness the thoroughly out-of-context commencement of a wild-life habitat, which serves the dual purpose youthful entertainment center.
It was here that my auditory senses were overcome with the sounds of hip-hop, but not really done quite right. Apparently, the event organizer had acquired a number of arctic animals who are naturally denizens of frozen fields in far flung places, whose names, though unpronounceable, mostly end with the four letters “stan”. For purposes of this fable, we’ll lump them all together under the affectionate term, “refrigerate-a-stan”.
I assume the organizer had gone in search of eastern music, In an effort to either make the animals feel more at home or to be culturally sensitive in spite of the forced relocation that had been perpetrated. As it turns out, the only response to her query came from a Hungarian hip-hop band, so without giving it much thought, she hired the band, and with that, the wheels of fate commenced to turn towards the culmination of unfortunate events that would unfold on this day in this icy oasis, nestled amidst humid golf courses and soaring temperatures in the western city of Phoenix.
As I walked slack jawed towards the Hungarian funk masters, my dumbfounded gaze was momentarily shaken by another bewildered arctic pilgrim. As our eyes met, we shared a moment of telepathic understanding. One of those spaces where you intimately share an experience with a complete stranger and when the moment passed, she smiled and said, “this is amazing!” To which I replied, “I know! I never could have imagined that I might have the opportunity to enjoy DJ Funkgarian, while petting a Siberian Hamster.”
My new acquaintance, Jane, had also traveled to Phoenix for this grand opening, and it turns out her husband, like my wife, wanted nothing to do with visiting a sub-zero winter wonderland in the middle of a blistering desert. Unimpeded by the disapproving and emotionally more mature gaze of our spouses, Jane and I began to explore the possibilities of our surroundings. She mentioned seeing a sporting goods store at the mall right next door and in a moment of shared genius, we simultaneously exclaimed, “Ice Skates!” Goaded by the pulsing beat and hypnotic expression of the Funkgarian experience, we hastened to Big 5 in hopes of finding a pair of size 7 and size 13 ice skates. After searching through Big 5 for less than three minutes, Jane triumphantly,hollered, “Frank...or John...I mean Mike, MIKE! Get over here now!” I sailed on wings of misguided glee to the side of my co-conspirator and gazed with hallowed awe at two pair of clearance priced hockey skates in exactly our sizes. The price barely broke thirty dollars, even after tax. so off we went to join the penguins in sliding through Phoenix’s new winter haven to the throbbing beat of Funkgarian the Hungarian.
As we hastened towards the arctic petting zoo, I suddenly exclaimed “STOP!” “We cant just go traipsing in there with ice-skates, there is no way this is allowed...we HAVE to be stealthy Jane!” She acquired a look of purpose and said, “They’ll never know we’re commin’ man...you’ll be Mike the unseen and I’ll be double-O Jane. Before anyone has caught wise, we’ll have completed a minimum of three laps.” I affected my own purposeful expression and said, “follow me, I’ve got this covered.” Following a few preparations, we proceeded into the arctic petting zoo, easily evading detection, as we employed all the guile that a snow leopard might use, while stalking a skittish rabbit. Within minutes, we both were inside and ready to skate.
At this point, Jane looked at me and I saw for the first time a glimpse of terror in her eyes, as she confided that she hasn’t been ice skating since she was nine years old and she really didn’t want to be arrested. With the jovial and inflated assurance that one normally conjures only as a teenager, I smiled and assured my new criminal accomplice that all would be well, that we were impervious to legal consequences and that we should start skating before we’re spotted. Jane’s smile was immediate and it buttressed my confidence, so like the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk, we took off into the winter museum on blades of hope, spurred by our vision of greatness, hoping to avoid disaster if only by a razor’s edge.
Within minutes, I heard the terrible sound of a billowing voice yelling, “Hey, you can’t ice skate in here...what are you doing, get over here right now.” But Jane and I were prepared, we broke for the exit, our plan...to place rubber covers on our skate blades and dash through the parking lot, to where we had left my grizzled clunker unlocked and running in preparation for our grand escape. At the exit, I attached my rubber blade covers with uncommon agility, but Jane was unfortunately shaken and she was having a great deal of difficulty preparing for our exodus, so as the guards bore down on us, I quickly affixed her blade guards and in a panicky voice said, “we better skedaddle, lest we cool our heels in the can tonight.” With that, we darted into the parking lot, guided by the singular focus of escape, driven by the overwhelming desire to remain free and it was then that I heard Jane’s voice, she was screaming in agony. I turned to see her clutch her face, and contort in pain, but she glared at me and said, “I’m not getting arrested...run faster, DON’T STOP!” We jumped into my car and sped from the scene of our crime with the same alacrity that Michael Weston might use in escaping disaster.
It was then, that I noticed the blood running down Jane’s face. Noting the look of concern in my expression, she explained that in fleeing the zoo, she misjudged her proximity to a Russian Olive tree. One of it’s protruding spears had, unfortunately, latched on to her left cheek and tried to tear it from her face. Fortunately, it had failed and twenty seven stitches later, with a great story to explain her scar, Jane slammed down a Dos XX and siad, “I don’t always drink beer, but when I do...it’s after a close shave with the law and a closer shave from a Russian Olive Tree...thanks for the adventure Amigo!”
GBE2 - #40 Posting Topic: "Jane's Story" This idea caught my imagination and I had fun writing this...I hope you enjoy it!
Before I delve too deeply into the details of this story, I think it best to ensure that we are all on the same page. Though this is probably pointless, because if you are one of the two or three people who read my blog, you are obviously on this page, so perhaps I’ll proceed to the next order of business, namely, providing a short explanation of Hungarian hip-hop artistry as it has been revealed to me during my life’s most recent ...and dare I say confusing travail.
First, I’d like to assure you that I am no eccentric nincompoop, whose idea of being uber-cool entails being a fan of obscure, and probably sub-par, artistry. Rather my exposure to an Eastern-Block interpretation of African American entertainment, was entirely coincidental to my attending the grand opening of an “Arctic Petting Zoo” in down town Phoenix last week.
I’m sure you are thinking, “What was that lunatic doing in Phoenix, when he lives in New Mexico, and did he really drive that hapless excuse for a car to phoenix in order to witness the grand opening of an arctic refuge in a completely in appropriate biome?” Unfortunately, the answer here is yes...I am the dork, who traveled hundreds of miles in a rattling and squealing heap of petrol powered steel in order to witness the thoroughly out-of-context commencement of a wild-life habitat, which serves the dual purpose youthful entertainment center.
It was here that my auditory senses were overcome with the sounds of hip-hop, but not really done quite right. Apparently, the event organizer had acquired a number of arctic animals who are naturally denizens of frozen fields in far flung places, whose names, though unpronounceable, mostly end with the four letters “stan”. For purposes of this fable, we’ll lump them all together under the affectionate term, “refrigerate-a-stan”.
I assume the organizer had gone in search of eastern music, In an effort to either make the animals feel more at home or to be culturally sensitive in spite of the forced relocation that had been perpetrated. As it turns out, the only response to her query came from a Hungarian hip-hop band, so without giving it much thought, she hired the band, and with that, the wheels of fate commenced to turn towards the culmination of unfortunate events that would unfold on this day in this icy oasis, nestled amidst humid golf courses and soaring temperatures in the western city of Phoenix.
As I walked slack jawed towards the Hungarian funk masters, my dumbfounded gaze was momentarily shaken by another bewildered arctic pilgrim. As our eyes met, we shared a moment of telepathic understanding. One of those spaces where you intimately share an experience with a complete stranger and when the moment passed, she smiled and said, “this is amazing!” To which I replied, “I know! I never could have imagined that I might have the opportunity to enjoy DJ Funkgarian, while petting a Siberian Hamster.”
My new acquaintance, Jane, had also traveled to Phoenix for this grand opening, and it turns out her husband, like my wife, wanted nothing to do with visiting a sub-zero winter wonderland in the middle of a blistering desert. Unimpeded by the disapproving and emotionally more mature gaze of our spouses, Jane and I began to explore the possibilities of our surroundings. She mentioned seeing a sporting goods store at the mall right next door and in a moment of shared genius, we simultaneously exclaimed, “Ice Skates!” Goaded by the pulsing beat and hypnotic expression of the Funkgarian experience, we hastened to Big 5 in hopes of finding a pair of size 7 and size 13 ice skates. After searching through Big 5 for less than three minutes, Jane triumphantly,hollered, “Frank...or John...I mean Mike, MIKE! Get over here now!” I sailed on wings of misguided glee to the side of my co-conspirator and gazed with hallowed awe at two pair of clearance priced hockey skates in exactly our sizes. The price barely broke thirty dollars, even after tax. so off we went to join the penguins in sliding through Phoenix’s new winter haven to the throbbing beat of Funkgarian the Hungarian.
As we hastened towards the arctic petting zoo, I suddenly exclaimed “STOP!” “We cant just go traipsing in there with ice-skates, there is no way this is allowed...we HAVE to be stealthy Jane!” She acquired a look of purpose and said, “They’ll never know we’re commin’ man...you’ll be Mike the unseen and I’ll be double-O Jane. Before anyone has caught wise, we’ll have completed a minimum of three laps.” I affected my own purposeful expression and said, “follow me, I’ve got this covered.” Following a few preparations, we proceeded into the arctic petting zoo, easily evading detection, as we employed all the guile that a snow leopard might use, while stalking a skittish rabbit. Within minutes, we both were inside and ready to skate.
At this point, Jane looked at me and I saw for the first time a glimpse of terror in her eyes, as she confided that she hasn’t been ice skating since she was nine years old and she really didn’t want to be arrested. With the jovial and inflated assurance that one normally conjures only as a teenager, I smiled and assured my new criminal accomplice that all would be well, that we were impervious to legal consequences and that we should start skating before we’re spotted. Jane’s smile was immediate and it buttressed my confidence, so like the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk, we took off into the winter museum on blades of hope, spurred by our vision of greatness, hoping to avoid disaster if only by a razor’s edge.
Within minutes, I heard the terrible sound of a billowing voice yelling, “Hey, you can’t ice skate in here...what are you doing, get over here right now.” But Jane and I were prepared, we broke for the exit, our plan...to place rubber covers on our skate blades and dash through the parking lot, to where we had left my grizzled clunker unlocked and running in preparation for our grand escape. At the exit, I attached my rubber blade covers with uncommon agility, but Jane was unfortunately shaken and she was having a great deal of difficulty preparing for our exodus, so as the guards bore down on us, I quickly affixed her blade guards and in a panicky voice said, “we better skedaddle, lest we cool our heels in the can tonight.” With that, we darted into the parking lot, guided by the singular focus of escape, driven by the overwhelming desire to remain free and it was then that I heard Jane’s voice, she was screaming in agony. I turned to see her clutch her face, and contort in pain, but she glared at me and said, “I’m not getting arrested...run faster, DON’T STOP!” We jumped into my car and sped from the scene of our crime with the same alacrity that Michael Weston might use in escaping disaster.
It was then, that I noticed the blood running down Jane’s face. Noting the look of concern in my expression, she explained that in fleeing the zoo, she misjudged her proximity to a Russian Olive tree. One of it’s protruding spears had, unfortunately, latched on to her left cheek and tried to tear it from her face. Fortunately, it had failed and twenty seven stitches later, with a great story to explain her scar, Jane slammed down a Dos XX and siad, “I don’t always drink beer, but when I do...it’s after a close shave with the law and a closer shave from a Russian Olive Tree...thanks for the adventure Amigo!”
Monday, January 30, 2012
Things I've Missed!
--by Mike Adams
I've recently written a sermon for
delivery at my Unitarian Universalist (UU) congregation in Los
Alamos. The sermon is an intimate cut at promoting our UU principles
in the world. It examines our failures to promote exactly those
values within our own congregations and the cost that our failure in
this arena has on our ability to place those values center stage in
public discourse.
You should understand that I very much
enjoy writing and delivering UU sermons. I really like thinking
about theological and moral topics, particularly, I enjoy discussing
these topics with others, especially my wife, who inevitably presents
a unique and valuable perspective on virtually any topic. Being a
good public speaker, my sermon delivery is usually effective, the
feedback, always positive and I tend to believe that somehow I was
able to make a positive difference in someone's life.
This evening, however, I read my wife'smost recent blog post and realized with no small amount of shame,
that I am failing to promote my UU principles right here at home,
with my wife, who is suffering terribly from medical conditions. Of
course, I have many excuses, with which my shame is occasionally
placated, but in the end, my being exhausted or
depressed...emotionally run down and overwhelmed or even skirting the
treacherous ledge of a dark void known as hopelessness is
insufficient to excuse my failure to practice UU principles in my own
family. I know that my list of excuses are merely interpretations of
circumstances, that I have chosen at the expense of other more
empowering interpretations.
That being said, I'm not a Unitarian
Universalist because I think it is a nifty religion or because it
provides me with shelter from some childhood bastion of hell, fire
and brimstone. Rather, I am a UU, because it is a religion, which
gives voice to my most deeply held beliefs. It is a faith, inside of
which I see a possible future for humanity and deliverance from the
destructive path upon which we find ourselves right now. It is a
path, which gives me hope that I may leave my children with a bright
future and a better world than what we have now.
In side of this view point, everything
I care about is on the line. More importantly, my integrity, a
questionable commodity throughout much of my life, is the most
important asset at my disposal in creating what I want to out of
life. So despite my emotional experiences or my lack of confidence,
despite my history of lacking integrity, I have to be better than I
was before, because things are different when you have kids, they're
different when you realize that someone you love is suffering
terribly. Everything is different when your spouse feels alone in
this world and she is facing a fearsome beast, which fills her with
anguish and fear. Things are different!
So while I've created a life where I'm
alone and suffering, where I offer words of wisdom to others, but
lack the humility and wisdom to let others help me, I have to change
now. If I'm going to be available to those whom I love when they
need me the most, I have to change.
Tara, I love you with my whole heart
and I'll find a way to get what I need, so that I can be there for
you emotionally during this period of time. I promise that you don't
have to stare down this demon of pain by yourself. I'll be there,
because you need me, because it is important...mostly, because I love
you!
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Do We Know What We Believe? ...or Do We Simply Believe That We Know?
--by Mike Adams
January 15, 2012 - Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Santa Fe
January 15, 2012 - Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Santa Fe
Conversely, our youth, who aren’t generally lugging around any theological baggage, seemed very much at ease discussing god and his or her influence in today’s world. This is the kind of conversation I love, not because I have any belief in God, but rather, like our youth, I’ve not been bludgeoned with any sort of theistic billy club. More importantly, god has played a central and positive role in my development as a person.
Later in the evening, during last month’s conversation, things took an interesting turn, when the leader asked a question, I hadn't considered in quite some time. Retrospectively, I was less interested in the question than in our youth’s comments. You see, we often seem to underestimate our preteen and early teen population, writing them off as being a bit vapid. We excuse their perceived lack of depth as a function of age and absence of life’s experience. We chalk it up to a developmental stage marked by revolt against parents and a fierce need for differentiating themselves from the previous generation. But when our Coming of age leader asked these youth whether they thought the world would be a better if no one believed in god, the answers they gave were both insightful and indicative of thoughtful people.
One said, “I have good friends who believe in god, sometimes I wish I believed. My friends are nice, polite and always helpful. I don’t think they would be better without God? I don’t think we would be better if they were different?” Another youth, talking about the Holy Lands, said, “Lots of people have been killed trying to take that land because it’s important in their religion. People were tortured and killed, because they thought god wanted them to own that land. I think no one should believe in god.” Another chimed in, “If no one believed in god, the Nazi’s wouldn’t have killed people for being Jewish.”
This topic, stirred a reflective discussion among our youth, representing both breadth in opinion and an enthusiasm for exploring important issues. In fact, on the way home that evening, my fourteen year old said, “I don’t think people believing in god makes any difference. You cant change the way people are. If they stop fighting about god, they’ll fight about something.”
His point of view may sound somewhat cynical, but I think it is incredibly practical. I believe it is a perspective that could make a difference in today’s world. That if we collectively confronted our fundamental tendencies. If we all accepted that each of us is capable of both great beauty and great evil, we would begin to have a real choice, we could start living by design in arenas where previously, we lived only by reaction.
This brings me to a friendly disagreement from later that evening. One of the mentors while discussing the possible existence of god, said, “There are certain definitions or conceptions of god that we know are wrong. There are theistic concepts, which are sufficiently illogical and self contradicting, that we can say with certainty, That god does not exist.” While I generally agree with much of his reasoning, I find that I can’t take that last leap of faith. Meaning faith in reason and humankind’s ability to rationally acquire factual knowledge without the ability to prove our assertions. In short, my objection lay not with his reasoning about any particular notion of god, but rather with the assumption that a conclusion, no matter how sensible, can be honestly considered true without proof.
So I went to Oxforddictionaries.com to find definitions of knowledge and belief. It turns out, that knowledge is as follows, “facts, information, and skills acquired through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject” While belief is, “an acceptance that something exists or is true, especially one without proof”
Looking at my life, I’ll start in my early twenties. Picture a militant and evangelizing atheist. Someone who knows that all people, who believe in god are somewhat weak minded. They refuse to be responsible for their own lives. They need someone else whom they can blame and from whom they can beg favors.
Arrogantly, I wore this article of faith, considering it not a belief, but rather a fact, like the effects of gravity. Unfortunately for me, by the age of twenty five, I had given up on college and I could not control my lust for alcohol. Angry, hateful, miserable, I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in the spring of 1995. The message was clear and I was horrified. “We admitted we were POWERLESS over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable. We came to BELIEVE that a POWER GREATER THAN OURSELVES could restore us to sanity.”
WHAT? A power greater than...WAIT A MINUTE! ...After a few failed attempts at sobriety, I relented. I began praying, every day, to some god, in whom I had no belief. To my surprise I stopped drinking and within a year, I emphatically proclaimed that this universe definitely has a loving and powerful god. While I struggled with defining a personal theology that allowed for both a loving god and somehow explained the rampant evil and suffering in this world, I never questioned the existence of that god.
...Not until three years ago, after being sober for more than thirteen years, during which time, I constantly redefined my theology. I then encountered the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, a humorous and lively group of atheists, inspired by Bobby Henderson’s open letter to the Kansas City School Board in 2005. Henderson claimed that that if the school board was seriously going to insist that Christian based “intelligent design” be taught in science class, they also must teach the theory that everything was created by an invisible flying spaghetti monster, who controls both time and matter. The Pastafarians converted me quickly, and within a month, I once again identified as atheist.
However, this time, I know that atheism, like theism is a belief. It is specifically NOT knowledge!
Some, have insisted that this makes me agnostic...not atheist!
But please allow me to retort.
Agnostics tend to believe that the question of god is irrelevant. They don’t know and they don’t care if god exists. I engage with the god question, because for much of my adult life, I have depended upon god, in fact, for many years, my survival was linked to maintaining faith. So to me, god is an important question. Additionally, having a spiritual direction in life, continues to be a necessity.
This may seem a minor difference in meaning, but consider again, the definition of knowledge, being facts, information and skills acquired through experience or education, while belief is acceptance of something as true without proof.
How significant is something being true rather than simply a belief?
What sorts of actions are are possible in service of “THE TRUTH?” Under Stalin’s leadership, the USSR, saw 23 million people die as the result of Stalin’s “TRUTH”. The TRUTH of his economic revolution, the TRUTH of his atheism, the TRUTH that he had to purge his military. Isn’t history full of senseless and avoidable death and suffering, which was justified by some perceived truth? Might leaders or at least citizens have acted differently were they clear on the distinction between belief and knowledge? Could genocides have been averted and suffering minimized? We can’t definitively know, however, if we look at our own reactions, we might be able to draw some conclusions. I tend to have civil and respectful disagreements with people around personal belief. By contrast, I judge people harshly for denying or ignoring the facts. I do believe that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but not to their own facts!
I wonder if, as a race, humanity has simply not matured enough to meaningfully distinguish between our beliefs and what we know. Perhaps our lack of evolution in that arena, has been the primary source of many heinous acts, how many future atrocities might our attitude spawn?
Occupy Protesters and Tea Party activists mostly agree on the causes of our Nation’s financial problems, but generally, they are unable discuss these problems with each other. Is this simply because people tend to get hung up on some misguided belief and then proceed to confuse that belief with knowledge?
Consider George Lakoff, a brilliant linguist, who has provided a perspective where people, who share my politics can easily join me in accusing conservative Christians of selfishness and greed...of lacking in compassion. It surprised me, therefore, to learn that as a group, conservative Christians are far more likely than liberals to make charitable contributions or to volunteer their time. I thought...NO WAY, but on personal reflection, I realized that the volunteer organizations and committees I’ve served on, were typically dominated by conservative Christians. Catholic Charities is the single largest donor to HIV relief in the world. I was wrong!
How many other beliefs do I have confused with knowledge?
Several years ago, I took a course called the LandMark Forum. Near the end of the three day course, we participants were asked, “do you want to have power with money?” We all said YES, to which the leader responded, “If you want to have power with money, you have to start with this...You’ve got what you’ve got and you ain't got what you ain't got!”
“Huh”, I said...”what is that supposed to mean?” Well, simply put, it means you have to get a grip on reality, and start from right there if you want anything to change with your finances...or anything else for that matter.
Applied to congregational life, that concept might look something like this:
We have a few hundred members, a vibrant Religious Education program.
Santa Fe, also happens to have one my favorite UU covenants:
We gather together to seek the truth freely,
To celebrate beauty, to ease the world’s pain.
We’re moved by compassion to service and to justice.
All life is our concern and love is our Way
Los Alamos, ends our Vision statement with, “We are a beacon of hope!”
How do we even begin to fulfill on those statements? Is it possible or do we have them just so we can feel good?
I think we have them...NO, that we CREATED them as a road map, a north star by which we can navigate the perilous course through life towards our ideals. For our ideals to be vital, to have practical meaning, we have to be clear about where we actually stand. We have to be grounded in reality, clear about what we know and definite about how that differs from our beliefs.
If we are going to ease the world’s pain, If we are going to to be a beacon of hope, we must start from right here...from this exact point. It is from from here that we can begin the journey towards our ideals. But...If we fool ourselves about skills we haven’t acquired or traits we haven’t developed, if we claim competencies we haven’t mastered, if we fail to work with potential allies, because we’ve confused some belief we have with actual knowledge, our way will be lost. Conversely, if we are clear about who we are, what we actually know, what we can do, where we need to develop...then we stand a chance, then we open the door to possibility, then we might transform ourselves and risk fulfilling on our dreams.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Rendition for Americans?
--by Mike Adams
A few months ago, I was sitting in my allergist's office waiting the required thirty minutes to ensure I wouldn't have an anaphylactic reaction after being injected with all the things my body is allergic to. I was scanning the magazines, I usually can't stand the reading choices in Doctor's or Dentist's offices but on this occasion, I found a Mother Jones magazine, with a headline article, "The Science of Why We Don't Believe Science." I was intrigued and proceeded to read this article with great interest. Ultimately, this led me to purchasing a subscription to Mother Jones and I have not been disappointed. This is an incredibly well written periodical and the investigative journalism is second to none.
Where this is all going though is that yesterday, as the result of my being a subscriber, I read an article called, "Did Congress Just Endorse Rendition for Americans?" Which details a recent law passed by congress allowing for US citizens to be detained and transferred to foreign custody should they be considered unlawful combatants. This was all of course, quite disturbing, but what really hit me were the comments. The venom and upset...all punctuated by very little action as far as I know.
It suddenly occurred to me that if we are losing our democracy, we certainly aren't doing anything about it...not anything meaningful anyway. I posted the following response on the page and I hope that one my two or three readers will find it worth reading, perhaps thought provoking and hopefully action inspiring.
December 28, 2011 - Posted by "WeDecide"
The past few years have showcased political fights that show a few things:
1) After electing Obama, we rejoiced and went back to our lives, having elected "our savior", who would magically change everything without our having to do much beyond elect him. We needed to provide the political base for Health Care. We needed to grow our influence, double down for any kind of national health plan, rather, we left Obama to defeat the most filibuster happy congress in US history alone.
2) Internet discussion will not reverse the patriot act or reverse the US course on civil liberties. We need to be (at a minimum) as engaged and active as Reagan's supporters were in completely altering the political landscape in the '80s.
I'm as guilty as anyone on this, but the truth is we've not been asking the hard questions of ourselves...questions like:
"Calling Republicans Nazis...is that effective or even accurate?" Nazis killed millions of people in a cold, calculated and efficient manner. The term Nazi or comparison to Hitler should be reserved for people like Joseph Stalin or Slobodan Milosevic and never used to score cheap political points.
If we are going to reclaim our democracy, we must collectively and individually realize that this is our democracy and we have to take it back, which will be difficult! We'll have to walk door to door and converse with our neighbors, listening and responding respectfully to those who disagree even if they are rude. We'll have to address their concerns (many of which are valid).
Until we are willing to pound pavement, make phone calls, work hard for our future, we'll continue to have this dysfunctional government. MoveOn can't save us, the coffee party can't save us. Occupy can't save us, we have to do it. We'll have to stay focused, ignoring unimportant or irrelevant tangents. We'll have to be smarter and more committed than the oligarchy. We do have the power, we have simply to assert it. Government operates with our approval, even if that approval is some version of apathy and inaction.
Now someone can argue with me! :-)
A few months ago, I was sitting in my allergist's office waiting the required thirty minutes to ensure I wouldn't have an anaphylactic reaction after being injected with all the things my body is allergic to. I was scanning the magazines, I usually can't stand the reading choices in Doctor's or Dentist's offices but on this occasion, I found a Mother Jones magazine, with a headline article, "The Science of Why We Don't Believe Science." I was intrigued and proceeded to read this article with great interest. Ultimately, this led me to purchasing a subscription to Mother Jones and I have not been disappointed. This is an incredibly well written periodical and the investigative journalism is second to none.
Where this is all going though is that yesterday, as the result of my being a subscriber, I read an article called, "Did Congress Just Endorse Rendition for Americans?" Which details a recent law passed by congress allowing for US citizens to be detained and transferred to foreign custody should they be considered unlawful combatants. This was all of course, quite disturbing, but what really hit me were the comments. The venom and upset...all punctuated by very little action as far as I know.
It suddenly occurred to me that if we are losing our democracy, we certainly aren't doing anything about it...not anything meaningful anyway. I posted the following response on the page and I hope that one my two or three readers will find it worth reading, perhaps thought provoking and hopefully action inspiring.
The past few years have showcased political fights that show a few things:
1) After electing Obama, we rejoiced and went back to our lives, having elected "our savior", who would magically change everything without our having to do much beyond elect him. We needed to provide the political base for Health Care. We needed to grow our influence, double down for any kind of national health plan, rather, we left Obama to defeat the most filibuster happy congress in US history alone.
2) Internet discussion will not reverse the patriot act or reverse the US course on civil liberties. We need to be (at a minimum) as engaged and active as Reagan's supporters were in completely altering the political landscape in the '80s.
I'm as guilty as anyone on this, but the truth is we've not been asking the hard questions of ourselves...questions like:
"Calling Republicans Nazis...is that effective or even accurate?" Nazis killed millions of people in a cold, calculated and efficient manner. The term Nazi or comparison to Hitler should be reserved for people like Joseph Stalin or Slobodan Milosevic and never used to score cheap political points.
If we are going to reclaim our democracy, we must collectively and individually realize that this is our democracy and we have to take it back, which will be difficult! We'll have to walk door to door and converse with our neighbors, listening and responding respectfully to those who disagree even if they are rude. We'll have to address their concerns (many of which are valid).
Until we are willing to pound pavement, make phone calls, work hard for our future, we'll continue to have this dysfunctional government. MoveOn can't save us, the coffee party can't save us. Occupy can't save us, we have to do it. We'll have to stay focused, ignoring unimportant or irrelevant tangents. We'll have to be smarter and more committed than the oligarchy. We do have the power, we have simply to assert it. Government operates with our approval, even if that approval is some version of apathy and inaction.
Now someone can argue with me! :-)
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Open letter to Mayor Quan of Oakland regarding Occupy Oakland
--by Mike Adams
Dear Mayor Quan,
First, I'd like to thank you for your willingness to serve as Mayor of Oakland. Being a public servant is a difficult and usually thankless job. In fact, I've been asked by several members of my community on a few occasions to run for school board. Having been assured that my chances of election are high due to the fact that I'd likely be unopposed, I declined, primarily because I've seen how our public officials are treated and it seems that I'd be volunteering to stand in the middle of several disagreeing groups of people and saying to them all, “Hey, I'm here...you may begin throwing rocks now.”
That being said, I write to you today about a troubling topic and I assure you that my intention is to avoid throwing any verbal or ontological rocks.
I write to you as a former Bay Area resident and frequent Bay Area visitor. I currently live in Los Alamos, New Mexico, but spent sixteen years of my life in the Bay Area and I love Oakland.
Today, when I came home from work, I logged into facebook and saw links to news reports, youtube videos and video news feed of Oakland police using teargas, flash bang grenades and rubber bullets against unarmed and peacefully assembled Occupy Oakland (Wall Street) protesters.
I find this deeply troubling, particularly coming from the city, which only a few years ago held a public protest against the invasion of Iraq, where the city's mayor led the procession. I find it heartbreaking and very shocking that one of the places I consider home, one of the municipalities that I have grown to admire, a place that I have been willing to point out as an example of how the rest of this troubled country should conduct the business of governance has now taken a leadership position in attacking it's citizens with force and brutality because the city's government has decided that it is time for these citizens to stop asserting their right to publicly assemble under our Nation's first amendment.
I beg you Mayor Quan to do all that you can to prevent any further violence from the police against the OWS protesters. Not everyone agrees with their message, however, they are merely exercising their first amendment guaranteed right and for that they ought not be retaliated against.
Our times are tumultuous and our people are troubled. Real unemployment hovers near 15% nationwide, our governments are burdened with a mountain of debt, there are an average of four unemployed people for every available job vacancy and many of us fear that our children's futures have been sold to multi-national corporations. Please, Mayor Quan, do not allow the citizens engaged in this effort to reclaim our children's future be treated with brutality.
Sincerely, Michael Adams
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Religion is Like...
My wife shared this picture on my Facebook profile and frankly, I Love It! I immediately wondered how I could write a blog post to compliment the message, thereby having a good excuse to share the image on my blog.
The challenge being, the sign pretty well covers it all...there is nothing more to say! Not unless I want to be both redundant and repetitive.
So, while this sinks to a lower level of crass than what I will typically post on my blog, it is representative of my conversational humor and the type of banter in which I'll participate.
I Believe this picture is by - Jason Robinson
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The love a family has
--by Mike AdamsI TOTALLY look hot in flowers!
Or so I say when it serves my purposes. My wife and mother-in-law, probably won't confirm this statement, but I believe this has less to do with disagreement about my native heat and more to do with avoiding any encouragement of my tendency to do anything for a laugh.
So, along those lines, I ask you to take a moment and really appreciate the beauty of the swim cap to the left. Honestly, I love this cap and I want it! If someone gets me this cap, I'll happily wear it while I give them lap-swimming lessons at the public pool. Admittedly, this is not a normal form of recreation for a 260 pound man with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, but then again I've never had run of the mill aspirations in life.
I suppose I tend to be a bit over the top. The truth is I will say almost anything...do almost anything for a good laugh and I do NOT embarrass easily. My greatest weakness is perhaps guilt. For example, my mother-in-law often accuses me of making fun of her and often I will relent at this point feeling guilty for my sport. The problem is that I haven't been making fun of her...not personally anyway, in reality, I just want to laugh and any topic will do...people shouldn't take these things so seriously!
Most recently, I've taken to squealing with delight and hollering “Nanna” when my wife’s mom arrives at the same location I happen to be. Invariably, my adorable little six year old joins me in running wildly towards her for an embrace. The perplexing thing is that despite my unbridled affection, she isn’t thrilled. Seriously people, how many women can you name whose son-in-law not only likes them but enthusiastically hugs them at almost every opportunity? I can't think of any besides my mother-in-law, the lucky lady!
Most recently, I've taken to squealing with delight and hollering “Nanna” when my wife’s mom arrives at the same location I happen to be. Invariably, my adorable little six year old joins me in running wildly towards her for an embrace. The perplexing thing is that despite my unbridled affection, she isn’t thrilled. Seriously people, how many women can you name whose son-in-law not only likes them but enthusiastically hugs them at almost every opportunity? I can't think of any besides my mother-in-law, the lucky lady!
I suppose it might strike her as a bit odd that I hug her with both arms and one leg, see picture to the right for an example, but hey we're all family right? Shouldn't she have acclimated to this level of passion by now? Why deny our love? My problem here is that most of my family simply doesn't see things the same as I do. My wife has said that if I hug her mom like that in public, she'll walk away, pretending not to know me and my mother-in-law has threatened to take Tae Kwon Do, so she can learn to keep me at bay.
To be honest, I'd love for her to take Tae Kwon Do. I think she'd enjoy it and frankly, I have persisted in and developed the tradition of greeting her with a one-leg hug, partially in hopes that she'll make good on her threat.
But beyond all of that, there is simply the principle of this matter. Is not today's world too devoid of love and affection? Don't we see too much partisan bickering at the capitol (any capitol...you choose!) Isn't our age marked by the detached youth yearning to escape their worried but misguided parents? Shouldn't we all make haste to change course and create a more loving and more tolerant world? I think so, which is why I leg-hug my son's Nanna.
People may think me crazy, but it is people like me who change the world, so I ask every American, Canadian and German. Every Saudi, every Korean, every person around the globe to take a moment today and show those around you how much you love them. Use your leg and your arms. Lets dub the next decade the hugging decade. Are you with me? Then go leg-hug someone!
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