so what were you for Halloween?
I love Halloween. I have a box of costumes that I've made over the years -- a unicorn, Betty Boop, a box of candy, an alien star ship captain, a Hogwart's faculty member, a Christmas elf.... A few years ago, I really wanted to be Xena, but, being twice her age, I figured it was wise to let that one go. This year I was Medusa, with pipe-cleaner snakes bobby-pinned onto my head (and one hanging over my ear) and a witchy outfit. Two dance places that I go to had costume parties, so not only did I get to dress up, I got to dance.
Tomorrow, on All Saints Day, I get to take my mom to mass; and then again on All Souls Day, of course, so she can pray for all of the dear (or not so dear) departed. While she gets into the Catholic thing, I sit there and meditate, breathe, relax, space out. Before I know it, it's over; she's done her duty and I've lowered my blood pressure.
Medusa does Mass. Heh.
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All you have to do is dream
Reminds me of the Everly Brothers.
Jeneane is dreaming and telling and has other bloggers joining in – not the dreaming, the telling. Frank, Gary, and George P. have added to the dream stories. Makes me wonder what Shelley dreams. Or Dorothea. Or Tom S. Or Tom B. Or Anita. Or Andrea……….
B!X once argued with me that dreams are the garbage dump of the mind. Being a Jung fan, of course I disagreed. Still do.
The common blogger dream images of cars, travel, and movement that Jeneane’s latest post recaps certainly give me pause. I think she’s onto something here. Bloggers are dreamers, and not just at night. We are freedom-lovers – the freedom to stretch our minds and hearts and voices beyond our immediate spaces. We refuse to be confined by our physical limitations. Our minds are always on the move. No wonder my dreams are obsessed with a car. (That and that when I was married, we only had one car to which I had rare access.)
I also have recurring dreams that take place in recurring landscapes, some based on real ones but strangely reconfigued – my old college campus, some hotel or spa where I’ve never really been, the street where I lived as a child. I can always see where I need to go, but when I move through the landscape trying to get there, it isn’t where I thought it would be. I never get there. Heh.
I used to dream of b!X always as a four-year old (which is about the time our family broke apart). The day after his recent birthday, I dreamed of him as he is now. He was on his way somewhere, by plane I think, and there was some problem with cashing his checks. And for some reason, all I had was Canadian money. We stood in the middle of a crowd shuffling back and forth money and checks…. Heh to that, too.
That same night, I dreamed that I was carrying my baby grandson to an amusement park and then realized that he was too heavy to carry all the way, and I had forgotten his diapers and food anyway. So I took him back home and put him down for a nap. When I looked in at him, he had rolled over (in reality, he hasn’t really done that yet) and was sleeping on his tummy, drooling. (I think that’s all just wishful thinking, since he lives so far away and I’ve only seen him twice since he was born.)
While I have experienced awakening at night from a dream and then going back to sleep to pick up the dream where I left off (I often have dreams with actual plots), I’ve never really been able to figure out how to do “lucid dreaming.”
Hey, here’s a thought. If we bloggers can get the hang of it, we can all meet up in a common dream, a common dreamplace like Jeneane’s fantasy of a real Blogaria (remember that?).
I have a dream…..
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Vote off the major party rows!
The names of many of the individuals for whom I'm planning on voting will appear on the ballot under political parties OTHER than the two major ones. For example, in New York State, we have a Working Families Party that reflects my values and that lists many of my favored Democratic candidates in their Row. So, rather than voting for them under the Democratic Row B, I will flip the stwitches under for them in WFP's Row H. It's one way of voicing my dissapointment and dissatisfaction with the major political parties.
Sometimes the people I want to vote for don't all appear under the Working Families Party, so I'll search out my favorite candidates under the Green Party or the Liberal Party -- and sometimes even the Libertarian Party, just so I don't support the mainstream power brokers.
That I'm using my one vote to voice two opinions.
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Blogging for Bucks
As I was rallying some of the blog troops to help me weave some empowering wishes for b!X’s birthday, I spent some time on sites I haven’t visited in a while. As I expected, I had missed the boat on some important recent conversations, including one on the ethics of getting paid for blogging. AKMA’s post got me thinking, belatedly, of course, and I’m sure others have said similar things and I missed them. But here’s my opinion as a “personal” blogger who doesn’t expect to ever get any financial compensation for what I write here.
I'm a poet. A published poet. Poets rarely get paid for our poems. Sometimes we get complimentary copies and $25. Big deal. But we continue to write because we're poets. The bloggers I read most are in the spirit of poetry -- creative writers with something meaningful to say that causes some shift in the minds and hearts of those who read what they have written. If they start receiving compensation for their blogging efforts, and IF that fact winds up being reflected in their blogs, I'll probably stop reading them the same way that I immediately click off pop-up ads. Because when they mention in their blogs something about the sources of their compensations, that's advertising.
Journalists and commentators are paid within the context of their parent publications, and it's the publication that handles the advertising so that the writers are not under that influence. And those journalists and commentators also function under pretty strict professional parameters and standards for what they can have published. Blogging has been by-passing all of that -- no parameters, standards, and oversight; no compensation. While it's possible that a blogger can be paid for blogging and not be expected to provide some visibility/advertising in return, given the history of what we can expect from human expectations, I can't see it working any other way. If that becomes the case, as I said, I just won't bother reading the bloggers whom I know have a financial stake in what they write. My time's too valuable to waste trying to determine what's real and what's Maybelline.
Actually, AKMA summed it up for me in his response to an email I sent him when he responded:
If someone who loves passionate prose started paying Mike Golby, I'd give thanks that someone realized that he deserves support. No simple litmus test will tell us whether Mike has sold out, whether the Möbius bloggers sold out; we just have to use our bullshit detectors and arrive at our own assessments.
I keep thinking that wouldn’t it be great if some passionate lover of democracy and the freedom of information that makes it possible would offer financial support for b!X’s two blogs. (Besides me, of course.)
At this moment b!X is arriving in San Francisco to join the anti-war march. (After he has breakfast.) He’s supposed to be providing .wav files as updated information. It doesn’t seem to be working perfectly yet.
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For theonetrueb!X at 33
Thirty –three years ago today EST, b!X entered the world, wailing before he was all the way out of my body. Since then, he has been in this world but not of it, waiting, it seems, for a better world, a better time. And still wailing.
He was born on my father’s birthday, and for many years, they celebrated it together. He carries in him the spirit of the fathers and the fathers before them. May their spirits join with all who have sent their good wishes for this piece of mother magic; may all of our intentions move him into a world past waiting, a time open to the full, flowing heart of theonetruenow.
before the moon is full,
it seems to wait
between night and light
between time and world
this moment between moons
between times
between worlds
between words
is always now
is now
now
The world of your heart made real.
The heart of your world revealed.
Now.
Addendum: As b!X is on his way to SF, I received two more additions to the above, so I have added them and posted a revised version. My thanks to all who answered my call.
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b!X in SF on Saturday
According to b!X:
For what it's worth, I will (as previously stated) be in San Francisco for the anti-war march this Saturday. I arrive via Greyhound bus at 9:30 AM and will promptly be heading to Mad Dog in the Fog to partake of the Greedy Bastard for breakfast. I have not had this meal in over five years, and despite the crunched schedule (the first rally begins at 11:00 AM), I simply refuse to miss out on the opportunity.
So, stop by for breakfast. Or email me for my cellphone number if you're going to be at the march. I'll be in SF until 8:00 PM Saturday night, when I board the return bus to Portland.
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PR for the Vote
Go here to download a free copy of this poster and then display it where it will get the most visibility.
If everyone who's worried about Bush's plans votes on November 5, we can engage in a little "regime change" of our own. The good news is that a majority of the people in this country are concerned. But that doesn't matter unless they voice that concern at the polls.
If enough of us download these, print 'em up, and stick them on our car or in our windows, we can begin to create a culture of engagement and patriotic dissent. We'll amplify our voices. We'll help to elect the candidates who can help us out of this mess. And we'll help to fire the ones that are on board for Bush's endless war.
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THIS ONE'S FOR b!X
In the past, I've done on and off-line rituals (in conjunction with other bloggers) for well-known posters such as Marek and RageBoy and Mike Golby. There is a strange empowering magic that happens when people join their hearts on someone's behalf and manifest that caring in something tangible (or at least, visible).
On Friday b!X will be 33 years old. It's a meaningful number and a meaningful point in his life it seems.
So, this time, it's for b!X, and I'm asking all of my blogger friends to join me in creating an earth-moving ritual that will propel him into the self he was meant to be.
This is what I'm asking you to do: Read what he wrote and my comment. Then put together a digital image or phrase that is your wish/prayer for him and email it to me. I will put all I get together into a virtual magical artifact and post it. And I will ask all of you to link to it or post it yourselves on Friday, October 25th. All of that blogger energy out there at the same time just has to have some cosmic effect.
Ordinary magic. Extraordinary people.
ADDENDUM: Having been overwhelmed with the responsibilities of my own small life, and having not maintained my usual visits to the sites of fellow bloggers, I had not picked up the thread about Wonder Chicken’s friend Rick, who was a victim of the bombing in Bali. Of course, b!X’s plight (the details of which are not widely known) pales by comparison. Send your bucks and your prayers to help Rick. If you still have any resourceful thoughts left, send me a good word – or jpeg – for b!X.
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"Men are always wrong...about women."
The above is a quote from a superbly produced play, "A Killing's Tale," written by my ex-husband and b!X's dad. The play, a murder mystery set in the Globe Theater during Shakespeare's time, has Shakespeare deliver the above line.
The play deserves a post all of its own, but that's not where I'm heading with this. I saw the play with a couple who are good friends of mine. I've known the woman, a lawyer and child advocate, for years; her live-in male companion has been with her for the past several years, and so I've gotten to know him through her.
The three of us went to dinner before the play, and, because we were going to see a play by my ex-husband, the conversation naturally meandered toward relationships and why they work and don't work. Now, the woman in this couple is liberal, feminist, creative, childless, and previously divorced. The man has kids from a previous marriage, is intelligent and well-read, and has a wry sense of humor. And he takes great pleasure in asserting Neanderthal attitudes about relationships and women. Yet, they seem to have a good time together.
She says it's because he makes her laugh, they enjoy doing the same kinds of things together (like taking me along with them to see a play); he doesn't care if she shaves her legs or under her armspits; he doesn't expect her to cook or clean (he's neater than she is and so he often does the cleaning). Neither tries to make the other into something he/she is not.
But she also says that if they had met during an earlier stage of their lives, they would have hated each other. They could never have raised children together. But they are at that last partnership stage of life where it's not necessary to agree on a lot of things. What one looks for is companionship, a sharing of everyday things good and bad, a good friend who makes you laugh and will travel with you even though he doesn't really like to fly.
They both loved the play -- which is full of wit and witticisms, has two strong women characters, and includes lots of relevant sub-themes, including homosexuality, religious censorship, and the complexities of male-female relationships. As the Shakespeare character demonstrates, talented playwrights do not necessarily good husbands make.
(I have to say that lately I am double posting what I write here onto Blog Sisters as well. These days, I seem to be inclined to turn my back on the big disturbing polictical picture -- which seems so removed from anything that I can influence -- and focus more on the small, personal and interpersonal interactions that, to me as of late, seem more real and ultimately momentous.)
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Spread the Word
I, personally, remember the WWII Uncle Sam posters emblazoned with "I Want You!" The above sure seems appropriate now.
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The Sensuous Male
He's on my mind today both because last night was Salsa dancing at Club Matrixx and because there are some current posts on Blog Sisters complaining about having to deal with men ogling them and making ridiculous noises and gestures.
I think that many men are confused about the differences between sexist and sexy. In my opinion, many men don't have clue about "sensuality," especially their own. In my opinion, the guys who stand around and ogle women are completely out of touch with their own sensuality.
Contrast that with the guys out dancing Salsa last night. I don't know any of their names yet; I've only been there several times so far, and I go there to dance, not talk. And I do dance -- and the Salsa is a sensuous dance.
One short, paunchy, thinly gray-haired guy, always dressed, in a suit is the best dancer there. He feels the music; every move reflects the intention of every beat. He leads gently but assuredly, holds me firmly, close but not suffacatingly so; he watches and makes sure we keep in touch. He is short, paunchy, thinly gray-haired and marvelously sensual. He loves to dance. He likes women. He doesn't ogle. He's having too much fun. He stops me on my way out to say goodnight. I ask him to save me a few dances next week. You bet, he says.
Another, a young guy, glasses, nice looking, serious, shy, dressed down. His movements are smaller scaled but just as sensual. When we get into a groove, the patterns flowing as though we had choreographed them, his face breaks into a wide smile. His eyes twinkle. We are one with the music and the sensuality of the dance. He is in the moment. He doesn't ogle. He's having too much fun.
I'm 62 years old and past the age at which I get ogled by guys out of touch with their own sensuality. Boy, do those guys need to learn to Salsa.
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b!X's birthday bash?
On October 26, the day after his 33rd birthday, b!X will be marching in San Francisco to protest our government's warmongering policy on Iraq. I hope that it becomes a birthday bash and not a head bashing for him.
So, if any of you are in SF at the same time and run into him, give him a big birthday hug and kiss from his Momma, who hasn't had a chance to do that for years and years now.
And may all of you marchers and protesters be safe and successful. And so may all of us who don't believe that waging war against Iraq is going to make life better for anyone but those who are already protected by power and money.
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Fat Cat Up a Tree
That's my "familiar," Calli. And that's how I'm feeling these days.
The craft fair was a success for me. And, on top of that, the owner of a boutique near Vassar college bought two of the more funky versions of my spiral shawl and is going to contact me about selling them. She thinks the Vassar coeds will love 'em. I saw something similar in a yarn catalog, and they called it a "mananita." Anyone ever hear of such a thing? I can't find mucn on the Net. It might be a traditional piece of Swedish or Icelandic apparel.
Yes, I feel like Nero, fiddling while Rome burns.
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Me and Madame DeFarge
Madame DeFarge knitted her way through the French Revolution. At least her knitting had a political purpose. I, on the other hand, am spending this weekend selling my crocheted "accessories for heads and shoulders" at a craft fair. As I sit there in my booth under a tent in the rain, crocheting, I can't help thinking that I should be doing something more political than crocheting. But what can I do? What can I do? Unlike Madame DeFarge, I'm not a player with a capital "P." And this is not a revolution. Yet.
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There's One ANSWER on October 26
OK. So Congress passed the resolution empowering King George to wage war. Now what do we do?
One thing we can do if we live near (or can get to) Washington D.C. or San Francisco on October 26th is to join the marches being organized by International A.N.S.W.E.R. (Act Now to Stop War & End Racism), a broad coalition of peace groups, religious organizations, student groups, anti-globalization, and anti-racism groups. ANSWER was formed to oppose war, support global justice and self-determination, stop racist attacks on Arabs, Muslims, South Asians and all people of color, and defend civil rights and civil liberties.
Detailed information about ANSWER and the marches is here.
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Hope Springs Eternal
Periodically, I get emails from various anti-war friends to sign an email petition or some such thing. Thanks to the education b!X has given me about separating the internet wheat from the chaff, I have learned to reply to such emails with a version of the following message -- which I just sent to the dozens of people who also received the latest email and whose addresses were at my mercy in the body of the message.
You should know that this effort is bogus and is just a waste of your time.
There are several sites that you can check for the validity of similar
efforts and other rumors spread over the internet. One of these is
http://www.snopes.com/index.htm. If you go there and search for "United
Nations Peace Petition," you will find an explanation of this untrue rumor.
Also, just a helpful hint for when you send out mass emails -- it's wise to
enter those addresses in the BCC: box so that all of those addresses are not
visible. (For example, I was able to send this message to everyone who was
on the mailing list along with me.)
Finally, if you want to keep up with all kinds of non-mainstream information
about "King George" and his efforts to propel us into a warring frenzy,
check out www.poxamericana.us.
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Speak up now or there will be no peace
Wednesday, 10/09/02
Pox American reports that
As of this moment, Senator Robert Byrd is having a fight on the Senate floor over the procedures currently set forth in the Senate rules for this debate. Under the pressure of Senator Daschle, they are heading towards a vote on cloture for 10:15 AM tomorrow morning -- cloture being the end of the debate, and the start of the final hours leading up to an actual vote on the resolution itself.
Senator Byrd is requesting that by unanimous consent, the Senate remove that 10:15 AM vote on cloture, because they Senate has only been debating this issue since the end of last week, and that being too short a time for such a wighty issue.
Now is the moment to make your voice heard over the phone to your state's Senators. Call and ask each to support Byrd's request to remove tomorrow's 10:15 AM vote on cloture. Or if the actual resolution comes to a vote, to vote against it. DO IT before it's too late!
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I'll take a double hit of Oxygen, please
Several times during my massage last week, my massage therapist stopped and said "I can't tell if you're breathing. Take a breath!"
She made me aware that when I'm focused on something, when my brain is grinding away at full speed, my breathing becomes so shallow that it's barely perceptible.
I just linked out of Pox Americana because I realized that I had actually stopped taking in breaths. The mental process of absorbing all of the complexities -- and all of the insane convolutions -- of what's going on literally took my breath away.
I've got to go and breathe -- deep, relaxing, healing, mind-drifting breaths. I can't make the fact that we are on the verge of triggering a world-wide murdering spree go away, but maybe I can breathe away the stress of knowing that. Certainly, a little more oxygen in my system can't hurt.
Last month or so ago, I happened to catch a part of a special on life in the Long Island Hamptons about Oxygen Bars (they don't serve liquor; they sell whiffs of oxygen). Right now, I wouldn't mind a double.
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A Lesson from Lech
While George Partington is linking to some historically timely educational pieces, and Marek is struggling to survive through the fiscal downslide of current history, and b!X is marching to affect the course of future history, I sit and watch a subtitled movie that reminds me, again, why educated dissent is important, why passionate ideals are important, why committed solidarity is important, why continuing to hold the mirror of truth up to our current grotesquely warped American government is important.
The Man of Iron, takes place in the context of Lech Walesa’s campaign on behalf of the Polish workers, and I bought it today at a local Polish festival to give to my son – because the story of Maciej Tomczyk is one he will understand and because his heritage is shared with these people who (usually against immense odds) continue to have such an historical passion for freedom and justice.
So, tonight, I sit and watch the movie with my mother, who, of course, misses the whole point of the story because she’s too busy complaining about how fast they are talking in Polish (she ignores the subtitles because she used to be fluent in Polish and, mistakenly, figures that she ought to be able to follow the dialogue) and how many times they say “fuck.” But I get caught up in identifying with the strength of spirit that has always made me proud to be Polish.
Lech Walesa’s fight against Polish communism triggered changes, for the good, in the economic and political future of Europe. What we need these days is an American version of Lech Walesa to rally our working class people to use their votes and overthrow our reigning family and its ties to big money. We need a little of that
(And as I finish typing this, b!X has posted his photos of the Portland OR rally against our going to war with Iraq here.)
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This makes my heart hurt
I'm stealing the following off George Partington's site because it really got to me. He got it from here.
Filmmaker Steve Tesich, who wrote love letters to America in films like Breaking Away and Four Friends, was described by his sister as being "romantic, sweetly naïve [and] full of optimism until 1990," when his illusions were shattered during the Gulf War. His disgust over America's behavior in Iraq later turned to rage -- particularly as he tried to remedy the media's laziness and disregard for truth during the conflict in Yugoslavia. Yet his essays and letters went unpublished.
"My brother suffered." Professor Nadja Tesich, wrote. "Silently most of the time. He suffered because he thought he was an important writer, whose voice ought to be heard. He suffered because most of the people around him, even old friends, appeared brainwashed, brain-dead. He suffered more than I because he loved America once. That love turned against him. Yes, it can kill you.. . . It was easier for me. I was immunized from before -- Vietnam, Chile, Panama, Guatemala -- the list is long."
"When I heard my brother was dead, she wrote, "my first words to his wife were, 'America killed him.' Yes his anger against it was huge. On some days, powerless, dying for justice, we could only howl together."
That's the price of feeling and of caring and of waking up. We feel powerless. And until more of us awaken, we will remain powerless. What can save us but some sort Dickensonain model of redemption? A Spirit of Compassion Past, perhaps? Who knows? But something has to give. Something has to happen. Because if this unthinking and uncaring injustice continues, it will eventually destroy us all.
~ Maureen Farrell
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Waiting for the Fall
The flocks are forming to the north,
flying in the face of a hungry hunter's moon.
This is a moment on the verge--
of a burst of bold wind
carving color from the mountain,
a glint of dark wing
shredding the edges
of yesterday's clouds.
I sit between the seasons,
astride the fine line of morning,
waiting for shadows
and willing the wind.
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