Choosing Human-ness

(I am going through and finishing old posts, this one was started months ago and is simply a reminder of something I think we all know, and the image, well, I agree with that message as well)

I was having one of those afternoons today when nothing seemed to be going right. I showed up in the wrong place for the thing I needed to do, got lost going to the other place, didn't have the right stuff, blah blah blah. I am sure we have all had those moments - I was hot, sweaty (I was biking this whole time) and tired of the backpack that seemed to have grown twenty pounds heavier during the whole experience. And then a person treated me in a less than human way...I knew it wasn't personal as he had treated the woman in front of me in a similar way, but still it jarred me. The next human interaction I had (other than between me and drivers of cars) also felt less than human...and my initial response was to retreat, be less than human to others myself and simply stop interacting as much as possible.

And I thought about people who receive less than human treatment every day, due to the color of their skin, their class, their ability, their gender or sexual orientation. First I thought about how awful that must be, but then I realized that many of these people manage to remain human, and treat others as humans despite of, or in defiance of how they are treated.

The retreat always feels safer, more protected. When faced with an awkward situation, it almost always feels better to be aloof, or disdainful, or just plain ignore a human. And when we are hurt, or down in any way it also feels good to retreat into ourselves, assume the weight of the world, and either martyr ourselves or others. I know all of this because it is my usual response. I hope that some day I can find the strength or the inspiration, or whatever to maintain my human-ness in defiance of all that is not human.

No Words

sometimes there are no words
or is it too many
the flood of anguish
the pain that goes beyond
anything that could possibly
be captured in the boxes of
words we hold in our minds

for me there is no depth
to the word peace - it is
white doves and olive branches
nothing so strong as to bring
a revolution that somehow holds
justice in its sweeping arms
peace is long flowing skirts
and flowery meadows, it is
Kum bay Yah and hand holding
circles - smiles hugs and tears not
food clothing dignity, not freedom
not healthcare or security

and speaking of security we need
to revolutionize that meaning too -
no border patrols and airport checks
but guaranteed food, shelter and
medicine - the security that comes
with equality
and needs no guns or night
vision binoculars wire
tapping our private unjust lives

Base Ten

Here is another reflection - I have been trying to write in verse lately (as you can see it is only moderately successful). This is a little late in being posted as I have been without internet.

Base 10

Because most of us are born
with 5 fingers on each of 2
hands
And some of us die with the
same
We measure things in 1s, 10s, 100s
and 1000s

For the rich and famous of the
US of A, 1 can keep us riveted to
24 hour news coverage for days

For inner city poor it takes
100s to draw even a
20 second news blurb

This morning on the radio
The woman dragged out
One T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d
Palestinians killed
Finally, it was news worthy
Finally it was a crisis

Imagine if we were born
with only 4 fingers on each
hand
Imagine if the mathematicians
hadn't counted their thumbs.
It would have taken 488 fewer
deaths to catch our attention.
Although maybe then, the standards
would be shifted again.

We were THOUSANDS

Recently I went to a huge protest in Washington DC about the violence happening in the Gaza Strip. This was my reflection:

I got caught up in
the joy on young girls
faces and for a moment
their smiles
made me feel hope
marching some how together
I did not feel alone

We
We were marching
and there was hope in
our numbers fierce
independence in our chants
an independence not based
in individual desire
but in a demand
for change and I wonder
if any of my comrads
feel the same disappointment
now looking at the news
and seeing nothing.

We were thousands
Thousands
And we were stopping
traffic and screaming words
We carried our signs in the cold
pouring rain
and yet I know
no one will see us
no one will hear us

We were thousands
of invisible souls marching
through the capitol
of the most powerful of nations

And part of me wonders
if this
is just a small part
of what it feels like
to be
Palestinian.

Thoughts and Laughs from the Past

I recently finished a masters degree from an international service sort of school. As a part of the finishing up process we were given our admissions essays back. I read mine over with great trepidation, fearing the arrogance and idealism of my youth (all of four years ago:)) Instead I found the seeds of my then eminent change in how I saw the world. I won't burden you all with the whole thing, but just the inspiring and funny parts. Enjoy!

For almost as long as I can remember I have wanted to save the world. My earliest memories are of hearing of people in pain and distress and picturing myself sweeping in to rescues them. It doesn't take one long to realize that this was a selfish and vain goal, a goal entirely based on a desire for glory and praise. As I have grown, the nature of my desire for international service has changed dramatically I learned that "saving the world" is not as easy as it sounds, and that it is more likely to happen in tiny increments that are hardly visible, rather than one sweeping action by a sole woman on a mission. I also learned that though there are many Mother Teresas in this world, only one of them has ever been given proper recognition.

....When I arrived in Argentina I was naive thinking that my one year of college Spanish would prepare me to be fully immersed in a country where they speak Castellano. It took me all of four seconds in the airport to figure out I was wrong. Then the house dog biting my my first night in my English-less host home taught me that communication is in no way limited to words. Three months later I discovered that you could wear the same outfit for three days in a row. Not only was there no snickering, but also, life continued much the same as it had when I wore a new outfit every day, only less laundry and less decision making.....

Just a few reflections. I would say there was still some arrogance, still some assumptions about helping and helplessness - I will save that for the next post.