Open Letter Home

Sat. 12 March 2011
I wrote this entry Thursday afternoon, just after I read the news from Wisconsin, when I was in the full swing of my rage about what's happened there.  As a result, it is full of anger and sarcasm.  I can think of one person I know who would almost certainly say it is downright bitter. 
Firstly, that's not necessarily who I want to be.  And secondly, I know a lot of my readers back home in Wisconsin are probably getting plenty of rage and hatred and spewing, both on the news and in personal conversations.  So I've considered taking it down entirely.  But I felt it, I wrote it, and a lot of you read it, so instead I'm putting it behind this warning: It's pretty angry.  
The end is hopeful, though, I think.  So, if you're up for it:

Llego a ser alguien

The last few days, I’ve been talking to people about my desire to go to Guatemala this summer to work with the orphans at the children’s village I’ve been learning about.  I’ve been congratulated, and I’ve been scolded.  I’ve been offered support and encouragement, and I’ve heard questions and suggestions.  Why Guatemala? Is it safe there?  You should try to find a safer country, a position where you’ll get paid to do good things.  Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to send them money?  I welcome these questions, because it is an  exceptionally difficult thing to do, and I should be damn sure I really want to do it before I get on that plane.  I should make sure I’ve thought of things that could go wrong.  I should make sure I know why I really want to do this.

And in all of this, it’s occurred to me that Evie’s been right all this time, going on about the self-esteem movement gone too far.  I think a lot of people in my generation grow up expecting that by the age of 30 they will either be Bill Gates or Ghandi.  So many people I know who can’t decide what to do with their lives – not even because they don’t know what they want, but because they can’t decide if it’s what they deserve, or what is the best use of their many talents, or if it’s “good enough.”  Like if they can’t do the exact thing they want to right now, they might as well not even try.  Myself included.  Maybe myself most of all.  But it’s pretty obvious to me when I see Wisconsin assemblymen and women holding meetings out in the freezing cold and snow,  or when I see how my grandmother cooks and bakes for her neighbors when they’re ill, or how my brother and sister (in-law…psh) have gone about raising my niece to be such a beautiful, caring person – and my young nephew well on his way – that there are so many ways to make a better world.  And these are only three examples of the many things we all take for granted.  Not just when other people do them, but when we do them ourselves.  I know sometimes each of these people I just described must feel like they haven’t done enough.  But if there are a million ways to make things better, we should do the one that feels right on us.  If we try to force ourselves to do it in a way that “looks” right, we’ll never be able to do it well.

So why do I want to go and do this?  Because if it’s about my perception of myself as “loving,” or “giving,” then I need to think harder, because that’s not going to get me through the tough days.  But I don’t think it is.  In the end, I really do want to do this because some very basic part of me believes in re-kindling the inherent trust and innocence of children.  Not just giving them concrete things like food and clothing and an education (though of course you can’t do much without those things. You must begin, as Lewis Carroll said, “at the beginning”), but also showing them that someone cares about them.  That they have worthwhile hopes, familiar fears, and achievable dreams.  That even as relatively powerless children, they have value and they deserve to be heard, and there is something in them to love.  That their best is nothing short of miraculous.  And there are a million ways to do this work.  The best way I think I can do it, with my temperament and my abilities, is to be there.  To look them in the eyes and be with them while they eat breakfast, get ready for class, do their chores.  To scold them when they lie, or fight, or steal.  To tuck them into bed at night.

Why does it have to be Guatemala?  It doesn’t.  But reading about this place struck something in my heart, and I haven’t been able to let it go.  Why three months?  Because it’s how much time I have away from my job.  And because kids need some semblance of stability.  Not just a week here and a week there.  And after a few months with the children (because you have to compromise, and I can’t live there full time) I will come back to my work for a while.  Be “reasonable.” Pay my bills.  Maybe save up for a chance to do it (or something like it) again next summer.  Is it safe?  Parts of Guatemala are, parts aren’t.  Like any country.  Also, see my last post.  I don’t have all the answers, and I know it will be hard, but my conviction gets stronger by the hour.  If there’s any way to make it happen by the end of June, you’ll know where to find me then.

And hey, don’t worry, Mom.  Maybe I’ll come home someday.  If Scott Walker gets his way, I’ll be talking about helping all the needy people in 3^rd world Wisconsin soon.

Too far?

But my heart told my head: "This time, no." *

The last time I wrote, I mentioned that I’ve been feeling like I’m allowing myself to coast by, being less than I can be.  Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about what exactly I do believe in (for the record, it pretty much boils down to love, humanitarianism, and – of course – music).  About how to stand up for what I believe, and how to live a life that is worth a damn.  About the possibility of epic failure, should I try.  About what I risk losing if I make the wrong choices.  About things I’ve lost already in my life, and how to go forward from where I am instead of dreaming about what I wish could be.  I’ve been reflecting on a lot of difficult things, but most of them are both intensely personal and probably incredibly boring to anyone who isn’t…well, me.  So I’m not going to write about them here.  Maybe another time and place.  However, what I can write about are my thoughts (more specifically, my fears) about my desire to reach out to people our broken society usually ignores.

Sometimes I think about going off the grid.  Bailing on everything and moving to some remote jungle society with no electricity, no running water, no corporations, no big government influence.  On a more realistic note, if I had no student loans to consider, it’s not unthinkable that instead of Poland, I would be in Africa or Nepal or one of the more impoverished areas in Latin America right now, doing the same job with different people for almost no pay.  Well, I do have student loans to consider. (And, of course, I love my Polish students, and lots of things about my life here.) But I’m trying to figure out if I can save up some money and go to one of those places this summer for a few weeks, or a month, or maybe three.  One consideration is the cost.  But to be honest, another reason I haven’t done something like this before now is that I’ve been afraid.  I was born and raised in central Wisconsin, and though we didn’t always have a lot, my family did fine.  I’ve been lucky enough to be accustomed to a level of comfort and, more importantly, safety that simply doesn’t exist in a lot of other places.

But I think for anyone who is truly thoughtful about their time on Earth, there comes a time when you decide that you’d rather try to fly – stretch out your fingers, reaching for something – and possibly fail, falling to the ground with a sickening thud, than to live out the time you have left in some imitation of life, just going through the motions.  Rather die trying than live a long healthy life staring out the window.  For some people, it’s a sudden click into place. Everything shifts, and it all comes together.  For me, it’s been coming on in steps: first, a few years ago, finally understanding that time is, in fact, limited.  Trying to appreciate that fact and live the “best” life I could with whatever amount of time that might be.  But still terrified of the possibility that it might not be as long as I’d like.  Still squirming at the idea that even if it’s another 60 years, it will go by in a blink.  Still convinced that there were some fears that I could try to protect myself against.

But I’m slowly realizing that, try as you might, you can’t protect yourself from life.  And even if you can, you shouldn’t.  Because the pain you risk is proportionate to the joy you venture. So (unless you’re prone to exaggeration) the only things that are ever going to cause such unbearable pain that you’re not sure how you’ll get through it are the things that first bring inconceivable bliss.  I’ve been thinking this ever since hearing what my incredibly courageous friend had to say about losing her unborn (but already deeply loved) child: that the memory of the pure happiness and meaning her life had during her pregnancy make it worth trying again eventually, even while still very close to the memory of the grief and terror of her heartbreaking loss.  And my own life experience (on a much smaller level) supports what she says.  Where I didn’t dare to care about something – or someone – it couldn’t  hurt me much.  But I didn’t get a chance to love it, either.  And those things that have had the power to completely shatter me - well, I wouldn’t trade them away for anything on Earth.

All of this said, believing in this kind of yin and yang doesn’t take away the fear.  It just puts it into perspective.  Fear feels huge, but it’s small next to what happens when you let it go.  In the words of one of the world’s great men, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: “We were discovering that life has a meaning only if one barters it day by day for something other than itself.” 

* From Mumford & Sons, "Winter Winds"

Walking the Walk

If you’ve ever met me, you’d know I’m highly capable of “talking the talk.”  I’ve always got an opinion about everything.  Usually a pretty strong one.  OK, you wouldn’t even have had to meet me – reading this blog is probably evidence enough of how utterly incapable I am of keeping my trap shut.  But I've been watching people all over the world stand up for what they believe in lately, and I've been thinking about the choices I make in my own life.  And a lot of things I’ve been seeing in myself have got me wondering: do I practice what I preach? 

Am I as compassionate as I like to think, or is it lip service?  How willing am I to make sacrifices to be the kind of person I want to be?  Of course it isn’t easy.  I’m constantly telling people they shouldn’t expect life to be easy.  But how often do I really make the hard choices for myself?  What do I really do to help others?  I used to talk about the Peace Corps, and I decided not to do it because I didn’t want any part of “Americanizing” people in countries that didn’t need to follow the Western model to do well.  And maybe this was a good reason.  But maybe I was just afraid.  Maybe I could have dug up another opportunity, or maybe I could have done it anyway, and done it my own way.  Maybe it doesn’t even have to be as big as that, though.  Do I make time for volunteering?  I started to.  But when it fell through, I let it.  I didn’t chase those opportunities down. I told myself I was too busy anyway.

I complain about big business, about wasteful Western consumers, about government, but I use more than I need, I shop at cheap chain stores more often than I should, and (I’m really sorry, Wisconsin – especially now) I didn’t vote in the mid-term election because an absentee ballot seemed like such a hassle, and I didn’t think it was really my problem anymore.  

Am I even as loving as I ought to be to my own friends and family?  I think a lot of the relationships we have with those we love are easy to get clouded by things like pride, our own insecurities, our fears.  This is a manhole cover outside my building.  The quote is from the Bible.  Not historically always my favorite book, but it reminds me of how I want to treat those I love:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

My one saving grace, I think, is that I think about these things.  I want to do better.  I am always trying to try harder.  I've made some positive changes in the past year or so.  But I need to make more.  So today I’m turning over a new leaf.  Starting now.  I'm sure I'll have some stumbles and false starts, and I'm sure some parts of this process will be painful, but I’m putting on those walking shoes.  That's a promise.  Please hold me accountable for it, though it may mean some big changes.

P.S. I must be getting even more sentimental and emo as I get older, because I really really like this Mumford & Sons album.

On, Wisconsin

I am in Gdańsk for a few days with my parents.  This is the city where Solidarność was born in 1980 after workers at the Lenin Shipyard went on strike to demand the right of the people to form unions.  My knowledge of this is somewhat limited, but what I know is this: the strikers posted 21 demands on two wooden boards – among these demands, the acceptance of free trade unions, the guarantee of the right to strike, the observance of the constitutional rights of free speech, press and publication, the release of political prisoners, salary increases to complement inflation, and many more.  The government finally reached a compromise with the strikers and the union was recognized.  For 16 months.  Then it was declared illegal when Poland was placed under martial law.  But some believe that it was the 1980 Polish Solidarity movement and the subsequent 1989 Round Table talks, re-legalizing Solidarność and providing for free elections, that resulted in the downfall of the communist regimes all over Eastern Europe.

Yesterday we visited an exhibition on the Solidarity movement – Drogi Do Wolności, or Roads to Freedom.  In one of the rooms, they showed a video of the leaders of Solidarność  making speeches about what they wanted.  One of them said that he believed that it was crucial for unions to exist because the workers have a right to be heard, at least, whether they are right or wrong.  That if the people have no voice, they are not free.

 

5000 miles away from here, in Wisconsin, my home state, 35,000 people have poured into the capital to protest the new Governor’s “budget repair” bill, which is essentially designed not only to cut salaries and decrease benefits, but – most importantly – to kill the unions that represent public employees in the state.  His bill would eliminate their right to bargain over some of the most essential aspects of their contracts, or to strike.  And he preemptively threatened them with the National Guard (smart guy) if they decided to protest.

The stakes may not seem very high in Wisconsin compared to Poland in 1980 – we aren’t looking at martial law, and so far (knock on wood) the protestors haven’t been met with violence.  But we are talking about essentially the same issue.  And yet again, it comes down to control of wealth and manpower.  Ask yourself: if Scott Walker’s Republicans and the Tea Party are such a freedom-loving people, why would they want to remove the right of the people to discuss their contracts, or to protest? 

Even if you’re one of those people (and I know a few of you) who think that unions take things too far and ask for more than they “should” get, I still don’t think you would say it’s a defensible position to argue that they shouldn’t exist.  Unions came into being to prevent workers from being exploited the way they were during, and immediately following, the industrial revolution, working endless hours under unsafe conditions for almost no pay.  Until the people joined together and demanded to be treated like human beings, the rich factory owners could get away with it because any one person demanding change alone was disposable, and everyone needed a job – any job.  And now, with unemployment up in the U.S. again, Scott Walker and his rich industrial financiers are trying to cripple the unions.  They’ll start with government workers, but you can bet your boots they’ll move right on to the next thing if they get their way on this one. 

I am so proud of my home state.  If you had asked me a month ago if I thought 35,000 of you would have stormed the capital to stand up for your rights – no matter how angry you were– I would have said absolutely not.  I underestimated you. I’m happy to say I was wrong.  Evie told me that Scott Walker was giving an address on the radio, and the protests were so loud that he couldn’t even be heard.  Stay angry, Wisconsin!  Keep fighting.  Unions are important.  They have been at the core of overcoming tyrannical corporations and governments in almost every part of the world.  Free speech is crucial, and the force of people, coming out together in large numbers, is the only thing that can keep the tycoons and power-hungry politicians from climbing to the top on your necks.  They can only do that if you let them.  This isn’t just about the salary or the benefits of a few people.  It’s about standing up for your right to be heard.  Don’t stop.  And don’t just go to the protests when it’s convenient, either.  Skip work, if you can.  Keep going back every day.  Prove that you mean what you say.  Make the most of the opportunity.  I wish I was there.  It sounds amazing.

Oh, and keep sending me photos and videos, too.  I’m loving them!

New Dictionary Entry

Perspective (n.) /pərˈspɛktɪv/
The mental state that follows when you're bitching about how much work you have to do (on your day off, even!), and your friend asks you if you'd rather go back to being a lawyer.

Suspending Belief

I went for a long walk tonight, and somehow got to thinking about the strings we tie from ourselves to other people, from our past to our present and future, from singular life experiences to uncomplicated enduring convictions as if it were a simple matter of cause and effect.  As if there was any such thing as a simple matter of cause and effect.  As if your past could predict your future, or your experiences always tell you the truth about the world.  It’s not that I don’t think you should learn from the past.  In fact, I think history – both global and personal – is an incredibly valuable tool for understanding the world, but when we tie ourselves fast to our experience like it’s the only life raft in the vast ocean of the world, we are actually dooming ourselves to making the same assumptions, and therefore the same mistakes over and over again.

Western civilization must be good because it’s the only thing I’ve ever known.  If someone hurts me, they don’t love me enough.  Colombia has crime, so if I go there I will probably die.  Scientific discovery always improves our lives; that’s why they call it “advancement.”  My parents owned a house, so I should, too.  And what about the platitudes that we accept as true and repeat as advice to other people just because we've been saying them for so long that it’s never occurred to us to question the values underlying them?

“Great minds think alike.”  Yep.  Avoid making waves at all costs.  Hide everything about you that isn’t like the people around you.  Assume that someone else’s corroboration is somehow evidence that your beliefs are valid, that your life is valid.  See where that gets you.

 “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.”[1] Well, that’s fine, I suppose.  If your primary aim is to get from one end of life to the other without ever being taken in, even at the cost of never truly forgiving anyone for anything.  But what if you’ve simply decided it’s OK to be fooled again?  Or maybe not OK, but not the inevitable result of being fooled once - and that you should consider taking that chance rather than removing everything from your life that has ever caused you any pain? 

And on a similar note:

“Once bitten, twice shy.”  Someone hurt you once, so everyone else must be out to do the same thing?  You’d better protect yourself from it?   It’s possible to protect yourself from it?  Or maybe not.  Maybe you just say fuck it.  Maybe you accept that you’re going to get hurt sometimes in life.  Whether by scary men in dark streets who want to be powerful, governments that want to control you, or people who love you and who simply fuck up.  Do I avoid taking a long walk on a quiet rainy night just because sometimes bad things happen in the dark?  Do I forget about seeing the pyramids because some people have died in Egypt?  Do I stop trusting other people because some of them are cruel (or are, at least, capable of cruel things)?

At the end of the day, for me, the question isn’t “What am I afraid of?”  The question isn’t “How can I avoid pain or mistakes?” (No matter how much it might feel like it sometimes, we are not here to avoid mistakes.  It is not even possible to avoid them, so why make ourselves unhappy trying?).  As far as I’m concerned, the question is “What do I want from this one shot at life?”  And I think a lot of people will do almost anything to avoid having to answer that question, because they think it’s a hard one.  They think it’s some big answer.  And whatever else I know or don’t know, I’m now pretty sure that it almost never is.  It’s usually a long conversation with someone who inspires you, or someone who makes you laugh.  It’s a really nice cup of coffee and a good book.  It’s children, and helping other people, and growing or creating something with your own hands.  It’s seeing the mountains, the oceans and the world’s beautiful cities.  It’s skinny-dipping, dancing, singing out loud, or otherwise looking like an idiot and not even caring.  It’s laughter.  It’s feeling like you’ve done something with your life.  And you’ll never do that if you think it’s all already been decided.  

Or maybe I'm wrong.  Who knows anything, really?

[1] I still can’t hear that expression without thinking of how eloquently the 43^rd president of the U.S. put it when he said, "… fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.”

Surviving Winter (with a little help from my friends?)

Well,  I think the mid-winter gloom has officially got me in its nasty little claws.  The days are short and cold (warmer in Poland than in Wisconsin, but also shorter).  Everyone’s getting sick, and stressed.  And I’ve been in a bit of a mood.  But this year I really don’t feel like moping around until it goes away.  I’ve decided that the best way to make it through February in one piece is to engage in some productive activities (when I’m not working) to keep me from going crazy until daylight and optimism return.  I even have some ideas.  But I need help.  And I don’t think I’m the only one this happens to, so I thought I’d collect some ideas here for surviving until Spring comes along.  This is meant to be an interactive blog entry, so please…interact.

Here are some things that I’ve been thinking about:

Reading good books.  This is a nice one.  Part escape, part intellectual activity.  Right now I’m reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery and Ireland in the 20^th Century by Tim Pat Coogan.   But it won’t take me long to finish the first, and the second is a slow read that goes on for a long time while you read some other things, too.  So, please send me some suggestions (and if you really love me, books.  English language books are a bit expensive and not available in wide varieties here.)

Exercise.  It’s been pretty warm here.  The up side of this is that there isn’t a lot of snow and ice to prevent me from going running whenever and wherever I want.  The down side is that I was finally going to try snowboarding this year.  And I’d like to go ice skating more often.  When it’s too warm, these things are pretty tough to do.  And now that my dear Aija is gone, so is my unconventional workout buddy.  And you can only run so often.  OK, I can only run so often.  I love it, but as a daily thing, it can get boring after a while.  And hard on the knees.  Anyway, I do a pretty good job of keeping active, but I’ve been thinking that maybe I should take up a new sport.  What have you tried that is fun? 

Create something.  This has been a real sticking point for me.  When I want to turn to a creative activity, I most often choose writing.  In this blog, in my journal, stories, letters, etc.  But when I’m feeling depressed and whiny, I hate everything I write.  Even emails.  Just ask Evie.  She knows what I’m saying.  (Even as I write this, it’s still a 50/50 toss up of whether I will ever press the “Post to Blog” button.)  So what else can I do?  I’m not great with visual art, but I like funny crafts.  I thought this hilarious book I got for Christmas (look left) would help, but the stuff in here (while delightful to read about) is too ridiculous even for me to pretend to take seriously and try making.  I know I have some pretty artistic friends out there.  Help me out.  Where can I look for ideas?

Learn something new.  Hmm…like the language of the country I live in?  Polish is an appallingly difficult language to learn, but I’ve recently noticed that while my speech is at the level of an 8-month-old child, my comprehension has been improving rapidly.  So I’ve got renewed motivation to really learn it.  And now I’m going to have a teacher, too, thanks to my friend and co-worker, Gabriela Sajko (thanks!).  So I think I’ve got this one covered.  One point for me.

So, any suggestions?  About the above?  Or about any other solutions you’ve found for killing February by ignoring it to death?  Comment!  Or send me an email, if you’d prefer.

11 Things Nobody Could Say Better Than Kurt

I’ve been having the most horrible kind of writer’s block lately – the kind where you write and write and write, and pages upon pages roll off your fingertips, but the only things that come out are things you wouldn’t want to make your best friend in the entire world sit through.  Self-involved writing.  Of no good use to anyone, probably not even myself.  Not even with expansive editing.

I’ve also been in bed with the flu for pretty much the whole weekend, and I decided to take advantage of my incapacitation by catching up on my reading.  I don’t know if it’s the mental place I’m in, or if I’m just long overdue for a return to one of my favorite men ever, but all I want lately is Kurt Vonnegut.  I’ve placed an order for a few of his books I haven’t read yet, and I read a lot of essays and speeches online.  And I compiled this list  (in reverse order.  I know how people dearly love a good count-down).  If I've got nothing good of my own to say right now, at least I can pass on something that's inspired me. So here they are.  Some of my favorite life lessons.  I genuinely believe every one of these to express something essential and true.  And often kind of funny.  What a guy he was. 

11.  "I'm not a drug salesman. I'm a writer." 

"What makes you think a writer isn't a drug salesman?" 

10. "It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "Poo-tee-weet?"  

9.  "Where do I get my ideas from? You might as well have asked that of Beethoven. He was goofing around in Germany like everybody else, and all of a sudden this stuff came gushing out of him. It was music. I was goofing around like everybody else in Indiana, and all of a sudden stuff came gushing out. It was disgust with civilization."

8.  “Human beings will be happier - not when they cure cancer or get to Mars or eliminate racial prejudice or flush Lake Erie but when they find ways to inhabit primitive communities again. That's my utopia.”

7.   "We went to the New York World's Fair, saw what the past had been like, according to the Ford Motor Car Company and Walt Disney, saw what the future would be like, according to General Motors. And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep."

6.   "Here is a lesson in creative writing.

First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college. 

And I realize some of you may be having trouble deciding whether I am kidding or not. So from now on I will tell you when I'm kidding. 

For instance, join the National Guard or the Marines and teach democracy. I'm kidding. 

We are about to be attacked by Al Qaeda. Wave flags if you have them. That always seems to scare them away. I'm kidding. 

If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something." 

5.  "And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

4. "A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved." 

3.  "Wake up, you idiots! Whatever made you think that money was so valuable?" 

2.  "Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies - God damn it, you've got to be kind." 

1.  "Until you die .. it's all life."

Thanks, Kurt.  I'll keep trying.

Community, not society

So, from 5000 miles away, all I’ve been hearing about from home is how six people were killed by a hateful, mentally-disturbed man at a public meeting.  And now, in response to the shootings?  Bitter, furious ranting about the cost of vitriol.  Do you not see the irony?  I am all for fighting for causes you believe in, but I’m not behind this brand of finger-pointing.  It’s not productive.  Maybe someone should consider using the national attention to this tragedy to bring up a conversation about gun control.  Want to be angry and bitter and talk about something?  In the most recent study I could find, the United States ranks fourth in the world for murders using firearms.  The second amendment says, and I quote, “A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” (emphasis mine)  Does this mean anyone has the right to buy any kind of gun anytime they want?  I would argue no.  The closest thing to a well-regulated militia I’ve seen lately are some of the gangs in the inner cities.  I think it’s worth a discussion, at least.  But I’m not writing this to get on my high horse about gun control.  I’m writing this to get on my high horse about power. And I'm not just talking about the U.S. anymore.  I'm talking about everywhere.

I think all the politicians love this debate.  Even the ones who are now being accused of being responsible for the shooting.  Why?  It’s in their interest for people to believe they are indispensible, that they are responsible for something, that if we could only get the right ones in office, they can make things better.  Because if they can’t convince us of that, they have to go and get real jobs.  They spend more time trying to convince us we need them than they spend actually doing anything useful.  Imagine if we lived in a place, a time, where services were traded instead of money.  Who would we value most?  Doctors, sure.  Teachers, trash collectors, farmers.  Politicians?  Bankers?  Lawyers? (sorry, friends, but be honest, most of you hate being lawyers anyway…)  These are phony, invented jobs created to deal with what is essentially an invented, fraudulent concept: wealth.  And what does wealth mean?  What is money?  If it were real, it would be impossible to spend more of it than we earn.  It’s an imaginary concept that people live and die for so that others can have control.  Why are so many places in the world becoming ugly and unmanageable and hateful? Because there are people who have power, and they want to keep it just for the sake of having it. 

Southern Sudanese people have been voting in a referendum all week, regarding their independence from the government of Northern Sudan.  Prior to the 2005 peace treaty, over 2 million people were killed in a long civil war, because the government wanted to try to keep this separation from happening.  Why?  Why would you kill or die to keep people tied to you when they don’t want to be?  Oh, that’s right.  Oil.  Money.  If you really needed the oil, and not just the power to control it, wouldn’t friendly trade be a wiser option?  Less costly, in any way that matters?  There is a new hope now in Southern Sudan.  But it’s not the end of the violence.  People will still fight, and die for that oil.  Over the  drawing of a border.  And it’s nothing new.  Europeans did it to Native Americans, Americans did it to Africans, England did it to Ireland, India, well…just about everyone, and Americans are doing it to Iraqis today. 

People say we need governments to keep the peace, to protect us, but I’m not even so sure of that any more.  This week, in Egypt, thousands of Muslims, dressed in black, turned up to serve as human shields at a Coptic Christmas Eve mass after recent violence against Christians.  Please read about it.  It made me cry.  I think this is the real human nature.  People will step in and take care of each other, if they aren’t being  poked and prodded into feeling threatened all the time.  If they stop to think about how everything you really need, you can have without needing to steal it from someone else.  If they don’t have politicians to tell them that they are on opposite sides, and that someone is trying to “take what is theirs.”  Basically, we need to change our minds and hearts about what’s important.  Networks wouldn’t be selling “vitriolic discourse” if people weren’t buying it.  Complaining about hate-filled rhetoric and pointing fingers isn’t going to change anything.  It  is only selling the same product to the other half of the population.  Why not just turn it off?  Get away from your TV, get away from your job, and talk to people.  Help someone.  Find something, anything, to really love in the world, and stop worrying about what you think someone else has.  If more people take productive steps, I think we really could see change.  

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