What is the purpose of war? Is it to project and expand an ideology and/or make a land grab? Why do we have borders? What real purpose do they serve but to separate? If good fences make good neighbors then why do we still have civil courts and neighborhood councils?
Sometimes borders are meant to keep people out, sometimes to keep people in. Either way, for what purpose? Fear? If the world were one borderless nation what would happen? There would be freedom of movement, we would frequently be exposed to other cultures. Maybe we would eventually become a world of mutts, intermarrying, having biracial and multicultural children. Perhaps we would understand each other better and be more accepting of each others differences. Perhaps what we now think of as ugly would become beautiful. Maybe not.
We make it all so complicated. Each border comes with a different set of rules - country, state, county, city, municipality, town, village, backyard. We all rule over our own little kingdoms in our own way, fighting over property lines, barking dogs, tree branches, air space, ocean view and other assorted nonsense. It's a wonder to me we've survived this long. Maybe it's about order. War keeps order going even through the chaos. There are even rules of war! It's all very confusing.
It makes no sense to me. You want to come on my property and have a seat, I'll bring out a chair. You want to talk to me about religion, politics or the way things would be if you were in charge, I'll get another chair, sit with you and listen. You want to camp out in my yard for a while, I'll help you find a comfortable spot. What do I care. Maybe it's because I'm not a 'STUFF' person. I believe in people and ideas. I actually like people who don't agree with me, who have different notions and philosophies. My 'STUFF' is memories. Memories have no borders, no lines, no rules. My memories will always belong to me. No one can influence them, and they can't be separated from me. Memories just are. Why can't everything else be so simple.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
HOW DOES ONE WRITE A STORY OF YOUR LIFE?
How does a story of life unfold? Do we write it down in sequence or just as a series of musings. Generally when people tell their stories they'll jump around, like time travelers. Granted we are telling a history but in reality life is more like a novel. One person's fact is anothers fiction.
Personally I think I like the musings idea, perhaps with a narrator. That's the way my mind works. Thoughts pop in, I discuss them with the little person living in my brain and they evolve into coherent stories or resolutions or whatever. Also, at this age what do I really remember with blinding accuracy. I definitely don't remember when things happen and I barely remember sequence. I'm lucky I remember what happened or if what happened really did happen. So is a life story more like a docudrama than accurate history? More of 'well it sorta happened this way,' than 'this is the way it was'?
I was born and one day I will die. That is the only thing I can say with absolute certainty. That and I can only give a date to one of those events. My life is a Holmesian (Sherlock) journey through what happened in-between the aforementioned events. Well, maybe not quite that. Yet a story is still a story true or false. It's just dictation coming from my psyche.
I don't know if I want my son to read about my life in my lifetime. My story gets ugly at times, it's tumultuous. I don't want his view of me to change due to something written on paper that I can't explain. I've had some extreme experiences that are better left buried, even after I am. So if this is the case why write this at all? It seems like just a wee bit of self-aggrandizement for no particular purpose. Especially if I leave out the juicy bits. A life is really only a life. A short time on Earth and poof!
And when you're done what do you do? There will never be a final chapter. Plus sometimes the most interesting things happen after the lights go down. Or maybe it's just the taste it leaves in your mouth when you're done. What do I know. Does it even make sense.
My life story so far: Birth, Love, Marriage, Childbirth, More Love and a sprinkling of good and bad in-between each event. That's pretty much it.
Personally I think I like the musings idea, perhaps with a narrator. That's the way my mind works. Thoughts pop in, I discuss them with the little person living in my brain and they evolve into coherent stories or resolutions or whatever. Also, at this age what do I really remember with blinding accuracy. I definitely don't remember when things happen and I barely remember sequence. I'm lucky I remember what happened or if what happened really did happen. So is a life story more like a docudrama than accurate history? More of 'well it sorta happened this way,' than 'this is the way it was'?
I was born and one day I will die. That is the only thing I can say with absolute certainty. That and I can only give a date to one of those events. My life is a Holmesian (Sherlock) journey through what happened in-between the aforementioned events. Well, maybe not quite that. Yet a story is still a story true or false. It's just dictation coming from my psyche.
I don't know if I want my son to read about my life in my lifetime. My story gets ugly at times, it's tumultuous. I don't want his view of me to change due to something written on paper that I can't explain. I've had some extreme experiences that are better left buried, even after I am. So if this is the case why write this at all? It seems like just a wee bit of self-aggrandizement for no particular purpose. Especially if I leave out the juicy bits. A life is really only a life. A short time on Earth and poof!
And when you're done what do you do? There will never be a final chapter. Plus sometimes the most interesting things happen after the lights go down. Or maybe it's just the taste it leaves in your mouth when you're done. What do I know. Does it even make sense.
My life story so far: Birth, Love, Marriage, Childbirth, More Love and a sprinkling of good and bad in-between each event. That's pretty much it.
HOW SMART IS THE HUMAN RACE?
What is race? What makes us different from each other? Do we really differ from each other or is it just that the wrapping paper is different? According to the medical community we all contain the same stuff inside, we just have dissimilar outsides. Basically a human is a human like a cow is a cow. Except we taste like chicken and they taste like beef.
From an anthropological standpoint we all evolved from one common female ancestor located in Africa. If this is so, and there are those who will argue my point but who cares about them, then Africans, who have been around longer than anyone else should be considered the 'Superior Race.' They've been here much longer than Asians and Caucasians. They started it all. Without their survival skills, and ability to adapt and evolve we wouldn't be here. And if this is so then why do we view the first Africans and their progeny as inferior? In actuality they are far superior. They survived under outrageous conditions for thousands, nay, millions of years! They still survive under outrageous conditions - war, drought, famine, poverty - and continue to persevere. God bless 'em. I mean here we are with our bottled water, laptop computers, Prius', antidepressants, Viagra and bankruptcy court. We have homeless in this country who would be envied and considered middle class in almost any third world nation. They live with constant war and what that brings - rape, a thirty year life span, starvation, constantly waiting for the machete to fall. If they have housing they live in hovels or refugee centers. What the hell do we have to be depressed about! We live in freakin' paradise.
They use solar stoves, eat meals half the size of a Happy Meal, and get their drinking water from wells, polluted rivers or streams that are also used as places to relieve themselves, wash their clothes and throw out refuse.Think Ganges. So tell me who do you think will survive after the bomb goes off - please don't say Keith Richards and cockroaches. It sure as hell won't be us First Worlders. I just hope I go quick.
And what about religion? The three major faiths - Islam, Judaism, Christianity- all have the same patriarch, Abraham. We're like a dysfunctional family. We quibble over semantics around the kitchen table like jealous siblings - one kid says 'Well Daddy gave you Canaan,' the other complains, 'Oh, sure but he said your people would cover the Earth.' We need to get a grip here. We come from the same father (some of us). In terms of race, the same mother (all of us.) This is why I hate the holidays.
I come from a multi-racial, multi-ethic family. If you can name it it's in there. We ARE Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition. I'm a Jew, my cousin is gay, my uncle his kids are black, my husband is a pasty white Irishman - a Benedictine Oblate to boot. We've got Italians, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Cubans, Ultra Orthodox Lubavich Jews, Protestants, Unitarians, Agnostics, Secular Humanists, Buddhists. We even have a Canadian! Go figure. We all get along. We actually have a heck of a lot of fun when we get to see each other at weddings and funerals. Race, religion, none of that ever comes into play, how can it? We love each other and respect and revel in each others differences. If you want people to respect you as a person then you have to do the same for them. It's all about loving your fellow man. We are all inferior beings, we all have massive flaws. We come in all shapes, sizes, accents, dress codes, interests, beliefs, and on and on. The wrapping paper that covers the gift inside needs to be torn off quickly so that you can see the value of what lies beneath. PEACE.
From an anthropological standpoint we all evolved from one common female ancestor located in Africa. If this is so, and there are those who will argue my point but who cares about them, then Africans, who have been around longer than anyone else should be considered the 'Superior Race.' They've been here much longer than Asians and Caucasians. They started it all. Without their survival skills, and ability to adapt and evolve we wouldn't be here. And if this is so then why do we view the first Africans and their progeny as inferior? In actuality they are far superior. They survived under outrageous conditions for thousands, nay, millions of years! They still survive under outrageous conditions - war, drought, famine, poverty - and continue to persevere. God bless 'em. I mean here we are with our bottled water, laptop computers, Prius', antidepressants, Viagra and bankruptcy court. We have homeless in this country who would be envied and considered middle class in almost any third world nation. They live with constant war and what that brings - rape, a thirty year life span, starvation, constantly waiting for the machete to fall. If they have housing they live in hovels or refugee centers. What the hell do we have to be depressed about! We live in freakin' paradise.
They use solar stoves, eat meals half the size of a Happy Meal, and get their drinking water from wells, polluted rivers or streams that are also used as places to relieve themselves, wash their clothes and throw out refuse.Think Ganges. So tell me who do you think will survive after the bomb goes off - please don't say Keith Richards and cockroaches. It sure as hell won't be us First Worlders. I just hope I go quick.
And what about religion? The three major faiths - Islam, Judaism, Christianity- all have the same patriarch, Abraham. We're like a dysfunctional family. We quibble over semantics around the kitchen table like jealous siblings - one kid says 'Well Daddy gave you Canaan,' the other complains, 'Oh, sure but he said your people would cover the Earth.' We need to get a grip here. We come from the same father (some of us). In terms of race, the same mother (all of us.) This is why I hate the holidays.
I come from a multi-racial, multi-ethic family. If you can name it it's in there. We ARE Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition. I'm a Jew, my cousin is gay, my uncle his kids are black, my husband is a pasty white Irishman - a Benedictine Oblate to boot. We've got Italians, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Cubans, Ultra Orthodox Lubavich Jews, Protestants, Unitarians, Agnostics, Secular Humanists, Buddhists. We even have a Canadian! Go figure. We all get along. We actually have a heck of a lot of fun when we get to see each other at weddings and funerals. Race, religion, none of that ever comes into play, how can it? We love each other and respect and revel in each others differences. If you want people to respect you as a person then you have to do the same for them. It's all about loving your fellow man. We are all inferior beings, we all have massive flaws. We come in all shapes, sizes, accents, dress codes, interests, beliefs, and on and on. The wrapping paper that covers the gift inside needs to be torn off quickly so that you can see the value of what lies beneath. PEACE.
'SPECIAL'
Children are special. When young they love us unconditionally and we love them back the same way. We care for them and coo over them even when they annoy us. We strive to give them everything and make them happy. They are beautiful even when not classically beautiful. Their innocence is palpable. They are a little piece of us. My question then is, if children are special and accorded the love, care and level of comfort they require; then why are 'SPECIAL' children reviled? Is it because they don't conform to the advertised norms of society? Who made those norms and are they fair?
What is interesting about 'SPECIAL' children is they remain special all their lives. What I mean is they retain those special qualities that I admire. They are loving even when affection is not something they can show, they are loyal, they are curious, they are funny, and they have joy. It might not be joy as we understand it, but it's a childlike joy that never leaves them. I work with 'special' children. The small ones - kinder, first and second grades. I love my mini-cohorts in crime.They think I'm goofy. They love to tell me stories whenever there is a pause in my sentence, they don't get that I have to breathe sometime. I don't care if they interrupt me because what comes out of their mouths is often inspirational. Their conversations are convoluted, quirky, bizarre tales of something completely irrelevant to what I am teaching. And yet they still tell a better story than I do.
I could never teach so-called 'normal' kids. With all of their hang-ups, attitude problems, tattling, and hitting I'd be hiding a kid-strength tazer in my pocket and using it way too frequently. I think the normal kids could learn a lot from my kids; for one thing compassion. They are at the bottom of their class, they get yelled at or 'spoken to' frequently - they're too slow, too fast, talking, not following directions, not in their seats, in their seats when they shouldn't be, working on the wrong project, losing projects or pages, or homework. They get pushed to the back of the class to work alone and suffer unbelievable humiliations from students and teachers alike. Everyday my kids hear this negativity directed towards them. Everyday my kids self esteem goes further down into the toilet. This makes eighty percent of my job confidence building, twenty percent teaching the subject. My job is to soothe, to stroke the ego, to let them know they are special in the other way, that they are worthy of love and friendship. That they are smart. That to work slowly is to work carefully, that all people make mistakes and that no one is perfect but everyone has a special talent. I make them happy. Some things may come harder to my kids but they are so much more appreciative than the other kind of kid.
I love my job, and I'm damn good at it too. I rush to school every day to see my guys. They confirm in me the goodness of the world. I teach the fundamentals of reading and writing, my job is to get them up to grade level. I've got a great track record. Why? Because I also teach them the fundamentals of life as well. Again, that nobody's perfect, everyone makes mistakes, and if you don't make mistakes you will never learn anything new. Mistakes are a requirement. This makes for some interesting times, especially if I make a mistake. They take great joy in seeing me hang my head in shame. It also shows them I'm right, and they sit up a little straighter. They feel good about themselves. I tell them how smart they are, I reward them with kind words and prize tickets and lollipops. What I am asking them to do is very difficult for them, they really earn those rewards. There are no negatives allowed in my classroom. No one gets yelled at, they get redirected. I explain the rules of life, if you are nice to people they will be nice to you. Sadly, when I say that I know in my heart for them it isn't true. They could be as nice as pie and someone out there will always have a negative comment to make, or see them as the perfect victim. The will be called stupid and retarded. So self esteem is really my goal, maybe it will protect them in the future. Reading is secondary. Teachers often tell me that the students I pull from their classes have improvement in behavior before they have improvement in skills, and their skill level always goe up. That's the order it has to work in. If they feel good about themselves, they feel they can do anything. The develop pride.
I have a son, he's fourteen and has ADHD, he is 'SPECIAL'. This is where I learned how to teach. He is not allowed to use his ADHD as a crutch or excuse. He knows he needs to adapt to the world because it won't adapt to him. He is a straight A student, he's been flying an airplane since he was ten, he's come in first in Social Studies in an academic decathlon and knocked out the eighth graders when he was in fourth grade during the National Geographic Geography Bee. He was accepted to high school with honors and will be taking Japanese. He won a science scholarship to high school. He's got a great sense of humor, very sarcastic, and is lucky he's not dead because he's also a practical joker like his dad. This is what a 'SPECIAL' kid can accomplish. He still sleeps with a stuffed animal at night. He still needs his night-time ritual, a kiss and his hair stroked. He's still cuddly like a much younger child would be, he has some problems relating to peers because he is not as mature as them, but he rocks. Hopefully I have brought something positive into the lives of these 'special' kids like I did with my son. I just give love. My guys have made a real impression on me, that's for sure...they make me feel 'special'.
What is interesting about 'SPECIAL' children is they remain special all their lives. What I mean is they retain those special qualities that I admire. They are loving even when affection is not something they can show, they are loyal, they are curious, they are funny, and they have joy. It might not be joy as we understand it, but it's a childlike joy that never leaves them. I work with 'special' children. The small ones - kinder, first and second grades. I love my mini-cohorts in crime.They think I'm goofy. They love to tell me stories whenever there is a pause in my sentence, they don't get that I have to breathe sometime. I don't care if they interrupt me because what comes out of their mouths is often inspirational. Their conversations are convoluted, quirky, bizarre tales of something completely irrelevant to what I am teaching. And yet they still tell a better story than I do.
I could never teach so-called 'normal' kids. With all of their hang-ups, attitude problems, tattling, and hitting I'd be hiding a kid-strength tazer in my pocket and using it way too frequently. I think the normal kids could learn a lot from my kids; for one thing compassion. They are at the bottom of their class, they get yelled at or 'spoken to' frequently - they're too slow, too fast, talking, not following directions, not in their seats, in their seats when they shouldn't be, working on the wrong project, losing projects or pages, or homework. They get pushed to the back of the class to work alone and suffer unbelievable humiliations from students and teachers alike. Everyday my kids hear this negativity directed towards them. Everyday my kids self esteem goes further down into the toilet. This makes eighty percent of my job confidence building, twenty percent teaching the subject. My job is to soothe, to stroke the ego, to let them know they are special in the other way, that they are worthy of love and friendship. That they are smart. That to work slowly is to work carefully, that all people make mistakes and that no one is perfect but everyone has a special talent. I make them happy. Some things may come harder to my kids but they are so much more appreciative than the other kind of kid.
I love my job, and I'm damn good at it too. I rush to school every day to see my guys. They confirm in me the goodness of the world. I teach the fundamentals of reading and writing, my job is to get them up to grade level. I've got a great track record. Why? Because I also teach them the fundamentals of life as well. Again, that nobody's perfect, everyone makes mistakes, and if you don't make mistakes you will never learn anything new. Mistakes are a requirement. This makes for some interesting times, especially if I make a mistake. They take great joy in seeing me hang my head in shame. It also shows them I'm right, and they sit up a little straighter. They feel good about themselves. I tell them how smart they are, I reward them with kind words and prize tickets and lollipops. What I am asking them to do is very difficult for them, they really earn those rewards. There are no negatives allowed in my classroom. No one gets yelled at, they get redirected. I explain the rules of life, if you are nice to people they will be nice to you. Sadly, when I say that I know in my heart for them it isn't true. They could be as nice as pie and someone out there will always have a negative comment to make, or see them as the perfect victim. The will be called stupid and retarded. So self esteem is really my goal, maybe it will protect them in the future. Reading is secondary. Teachers often tell me that the students I pull from their classes have improvement in behavior before they have improvement in skills, and their skill level always goe up. That's the order it has to work in. If they feel good about themselves, they feel they can do anything. The develop pride.
I have a son, he's fourteen and has ADHD, he is 'SPECIAL'. This is where I learned how to teach. He is not allowed to use his ADHD as a crutch or excuse. He knows he needs to adapt to the world because it won't adapt to him. He is a straight A student, he's been flying an airplane since he was ten, he's come in first in Social Studies in an academic decathlon and knocked out the eighth graders when he was in fourth grade during the National Geographic Geography Bee. He was accepted to high school with honors and will be taking Japanese. He won a science scholarship to high school. He's got a great sense of humor, very sarcastic, and is lucky he's not dead because he's also a practical joker like his dad. This is what a 'SPECIAL' kid can accomplish. He still sleeps with a stuffed animal at night. He still needs his night-time ritual, a kiss and his hair stroked. He's still cuddly like a much younger child would be, he has some problems relating to peers because he is not as mature as them, but he rocks. Hopefully I have brought something positive into the lives of these 'special' kids like I did with my son. I just give love. My guys have made a real impression on me, that's for sure...they make me feel 'special'.
HISTORY
What is our history? Collective world history, ethnic history, family history, personal history, political history, religious history, so many different histories inside each of us. Who writes history? Some say the victors. If this is so then how do we know what is real and what is not? What would it be like to know our 'real' history, the God's-honest-truth? An accurate, true record written by witnesses with no bias. Never happen, we are a species destined to lie, to fabricate our very existence if we could. You won't see dolphins or chimps doing that.
History is a way for us to revel in our triumphs and justify our ugliness and pettiness. History justifies negative actions that were a direct result of our alleged suffering. Our history is no more real than tales of fairies and aliens. Our recorded history is a series of novellas written by consensus. It is man made. Even scientific history is written by man and therefore suspect. Opinion, theory, hypothesis, and wild guess mixed with a dash of truth.
Do we really know who we were? Do we know who we are now? What about the deniers of history. Did the Holocaust,Armenian genocide, and dinosaurs actually happen or is it hearsay. Do witnesses tell the truth, can they accurately recall the events they witnessed? According to police, eyewitness accounts are notoriously inaccurate. Therefore, can history ever be entirely accurate? Questions, upon questions, that's all we have.
I know in my own personal history there are some things I remember and some I don't. Some that I remember vividly never happened. Memories that I lay claim to are actually the property of others. My own truth as experienced and witnessed by me is not true. I am fallible, my truth therefore is only conjecture. I believe in God, dinosaurs, the history of the world as loosely stated in texts. I also believe there's another side to all those stories, the untold side. Information left buried and unspoken, some irrelevant, some significant and life changing. If as individuals we lie all the time about everything, how can we imply history is an infallible truth? We are wonderful liars, creative and manipulative. Some lies are so masterfully concocted they sway the masses to the certainty of its principle. Think Hitler.
As an example: What if the was no evil snake in Eden, he was the good guy it was Eve who was the evil one. Not wanting to be punished for touching the apple she laid the blame on the snake. "He made me do it!" she cried. She still got in trouble, tossed out of paradise, the curse of childbirth, all that. The snake came out the worse for wear. Forced to slither on his belly for eternity, his legacy throughout biblical history is to be known as the devils confederate; hated and hunted. Though the provocateur, Eve is still known as the innocent. With regards to childbirth, God has given women a short memory about the pain, and children have always been considered a blessing not a curse. It is so easy to play with history - change the viewpoint, change the roles. Just like historians have done with the Indians, Jews, Muslims, blacks, Chinese, Irish, Mexicans and the Vikings.
We really have no history, no pure truth of what came before. Like the bible, history books were written by men long after the deed was done. No witnesses, just what the guilty want in a crime; and this lack of accuracy is a crime. The problem is by writing biased truth you change the perspective of an event. By changing the perspective you change the roles and justify the wrongs. Were the Indians really the bad guys or were we? Strangely, history is fluid. The Indians were the bad guys once, now they are a persecuted minority and we are the bad guys who crushed them through our ignorance and arrogance. Now we are enlightened, and as such the events have changed. It still isn't truth though, its just another point of view passing as history.
History is a way for us to revel in our triumphs and justify our ugliness and pettiness. History justifies negative actions that were a direct result of our alleged suffering. Our history is no more real than tales of fairies and aliens. Our recorded history is a series of novellas written by consensus. It is man made. Even scientific history is written by man and therefore suspect. Opinion, theory, hypothesis, and wild guess mixed with a dash of truth.
Do we really know who we were? Do we know who we are now? What about the deniers of history. Did the Holocaust,Armenian genocide, and dinosaurs actually happen or is it hearsay. Do witnesses tell the truth, can they accurately recall the events they witnessed? According to police, eyewitness accounts are notoriously inaccurate. Therefore, can history ever be entirely accurate? Questions, upon questions, that's all we have.
I know in my own personal history there are some things I remember and some I don't. Some that I remember vividly never happened. Memories that I lay claim to are actually the property of others. My own truth as experienced and witnessed by me is not true. I am fallible, my truth therefore is only conjecture. I believe in God, dinosaurs, the history of the world as loosely stated in texts. I also believe there's another side to all those stories, the untold side. Information left buried and unspoken, some irrelevant, some significant and life changing. If as individuals we lie all the time about everything, how can we imply history is an infallible truth? We are wonderful liars, creative and manipulative. Some lies are so masterfully concocted they sway the masses to the certainty of its principle. Think Hitler.
As an example: What if the was no evil snake in Eden, he was the good guy it was Eve who was the evil one. Not wanting to be punished for touching the apple she laid the blame on the snake. "He made me do it!" she cried. She still got in trouble, tossed out of paradise, the curse of childbirth, all that. The snake came out the worse for wear. Forced to slither on his belly for eternity, his legacy throughout biblical history is to be known as the devils confederate; hated and hunted. Though the provocateur, Eve is still known as the innocent. With regards to childbirth, God has given women a short memory about the pain, and children have always been considered a blessing not a curse. It is so easy to play with history - change the viewpoint, change the roles. Just like historians have done with the Indians, Jews, Muslims, blacks, Chinese, Irish, Mexicans and the Vikings.
We really have no history, no pure truth of what came before. Like the bible, history books were written by men long after the deed was done. No witnesses, just what the guilty want in a crime; and this lack of accuracy is a crime. The problem is by writing biased truth you change the perspective of an event. By changing the perspective you change the roles and justify the wrongs. Were the Indians really the bad guys or were we? Strangely, history is fluid. The Indians were the bad guys once, now they are a persecuted minority and we are the bad guys who crushed them through our ignorance and arrogance. Now we are enlightened, and as such the events have changed. It still isn't truth though, its just another point of view passing as history.
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