Penile Satisfaction? Excuse me?

Now that I have your attention...

Yesterday was the Feast of St. Andrew.  No, neither of the young men in the drawing is named Andrew or Andy...though one of them is probably Randy.  Sorry.  Couldn't help myself.

The chaplain at work is an Episcopal priest and he and some of my regular congregation often get together and celebrate at the hospital in the chapel.  A friend, of course, invited me to join them yesterday at the end of the day.

Fortunately, I was able to zip downstairs in time for the service.  Leon, a friend, her husband, and myself made up the gathering.

Leon presided, and as is his custom, he was prepared to preach extemporaneously.  However, there was a decided pause into which I jumped.  I have been reading (among many other things) Proclaiming the Scandal of the Cross.  I had some questions about atonement theology and asked the group if a local priest's objection to "Atonement Theology" was unique or more universal in today's Episcopal Church.

And so we were off on a lively discussion of atonement theology and related topics.  Three of us in the room were raised Roman Catholic and one was raised a Methodist.

What I am learning is that in response to the narrow focus of many churches today on one form of atonement theology - namely Penal Substitution - more liberal or progressive members of the church have thrown the baby out with the "bloody" bath water.  Too many contemporary Christians have taken Anselm's theology to the extreme belief of an angry, wrathful God who demanded a blood sacrifice of his Son to remove the Sin of mankind.

Many of our contemporary denominations either continue to emphasize or a tradition that emphasized the sinful, worthlessness of humanity.  In the Episcopal tradition this is evident when one compares Rite I liturgy with Rite II liturgy.  In addition to the more formal thee/thou language is a decided emphasis on groveling and pleading for forgiveness in Rite I.

This belief in the inherent "badness" of mankind fits hand in glove with the Penal Substitution theology - God demanding the blood sacrifice to cure us of our sinfulness in order to make God right with us.

More often now, you will hear this referred to as Penal Satisfaction theology - the punishment that Christ takes on to satisfy an angry God.  This is because there are other forms of atonement theory that our substitutionary in nature - think Aslan in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Aslan (the Christ figure) substitutes himself for Edmund in order to satisfy the White Witch (the Satan figure) and allows himself to be sacrificed.  Aslan has no issue with Edmund (man) but rather with the Witch.

Well, by now you will have either forgotten how I got your attention or you are completely baffled by my choice of title and picture.

I received a phone call just as I was sitting down to try and write SOMETHING for the blog as I hadn't posted in almost three weeks.  It was my friend .  She had a confession to make.

Now in hind site I realize that she had remained rather quiet during our discussion that went on for at least twenty minutes or more.  She called and explained that from the moment that I introduced the concept of Penal Substitution - what she heard was Penile Substitution and proceeded to sit there quietly dumbfounded as to what in the heck we men were discussing.

In the midst of my laughter I realized how much more her confusion must have increased at the point that Leon introduced the newer terminology of "Penile Satisfaction!"  We all have had a good laugh about this and I hope you now will have had a good chuckle while thinking about Atonement as we begin yet another church year tomorrow with the First Sunday of Advent.  Peace.

PS - I also advised her to take a page from my book and never be afraid to stop a conversation and say, "Excuse me?  What?  Please explain, I don't understand."  It's good advice.

This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land

Once I finally got out of bed yesterday I had a lovely afternoon.  I tend to sleep a great deal on Saturday, my work week leaves me somewhat drained.  I finally arose, put on my flannel pj's, made a pot of coffee, and chose some music from iTunes.

It was a beautiful gray November afternoon.  The leaves are still there but all on the ground now leaving bare maple trunks for as far as the eye can see.  I selected Harry Chapin.  A few of his songs always crack me open and make me look inside.  Damn if he didn't have me quietly weeping at least once.

I thought about blogging yesterday but decided to wait.  Now having been bombarded by images on  Facebook, I suppose I am choosing to blog about a different set of Veterans.  They may not have put on a uniform, but they have fought for the cause of freedom and justice just as hard as any soldier.  Their war has never ended.

I believe I can say this as I am also a garden variety veteran having served in the Navy when I was but a pup.  It is not my intention to take anything away from the men and women who have served honorably in our military, but, frankly, between Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, Fourth of July, and a any other day we can stretch to include a hearty "Support Our Troops" battle cry, soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines get a lot of attention in our War Culture.

As I sat down to blog about the powerful skills of Harry Chapin among others, I began to envision a different kind of "veteran."  The CDs I have include snippets of Harry talking to his audiences and/or conducting interviews.  He was big into fighting world hunger and many of the audio snippets are of him talking about hunger and poverty.

Harry mentions Pete Seeger as one of his heroes - that's him at the top of the blog.  I suppose that got me thinking about other artists who have used their voices to fight for peace and justice. Of course, some would argue that these individuals were down right un-American - claim they lacked true patriotism.

I am an Episcopalian (via Roman Catholicism).  If I were to ask you, What is the Church?  How would you answer?  Would you say, it's the buildings - the parish churches, the Basilicas, the Cathedrals?  Would you say it is the Liturgy - the rituals, the vestments, the incense, the hymns?  Would you argue that the Church is the clergy - the Pope, the Archbishops, the Bishops, the Priests?  I believe the church is the people.  All those other things merely support the Church - the People of God.

In a similar way, I believe that our country is the people.  Our country isn't the buildings and memorials.  Our country isn't the rituals and pledges and jingoistic songs.  Our country isn't the politicians or they offices they hold.  Our Country is US.  Therefore, those individuals who have fought the State, challenged the government, stood up to the Corporations...all in the name of fighting for justice for the people are true patriots.  They are the veterans of our on going war against poverty and injustice.

So on this Veterans Day I choose to remember:  Rosa Parks, Dorothy Day, Caesar Chavez, Upton Sinclair, Howard Zinn, Russ Feingold, Noam Chomsky, Malcolm X, Joan Chittister, Helen Prejean, and many, many others who wore the uniforms of Woman's Suffrage, Labor, the Habit of the Church, the humble garments of the poor.  Please feel free to add your names to this list in the comments.  Peace!

To Dream The Impossible Dream

I am continuing to try and get back into a blogging groove here.  So I apologize for the facile nature of some of these posts. I must just write...

I am a hoarder of books.  A significant portion of my mom's posts on Facebook are of homes stuffed with books and her comment that her son's house is like this...I'm flattered...I think.

I can own a book for many, many years and then pull it off the shelf at the right moment.  For example, earlier this year I read a book by Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination.

Actually, the story behind this book begins with a recommendation made my June Butler at her blog Wounded Bird.  I ordered the book and it sat on one of my many piled tables for a number of months.

Manuel Padilla our missioner made one of his frequent visits to our congregation and told us about a Walter Brueggemann DVD series they were doing at the church in Crystal Falls.  It was rather clear that this six part series must be based on that book I had waiting to be read at home.  I asked Manuel if I might borrow the DVD when they were finished.  Once I had the DVD at hand I also proceeded to read the book.

In an early chapter of the book, Walter references some titles that catch my eye.  In particular, Imagining Argentina by Lawrence Thornton.  He says, "Cavanaugh reflects on the force of liturgic imagination by an appeal to the novel of Lawrence Thornton, Imagining Argentina.  In the novel, the key character, Carlos Rueda, is visited with 'a peculiar miraculous gift,' the capacity to create futures by acts of anticipatory imagination."

Essentially, Carlos dreams alternative realities to the horrors of the dirty war and these dreams come true.  He dreams that those who the government have disappeared are alive and so they are.  More on this in a bit.

So, although I haven't read Imagining Argentina yet, I did pick it up a few weeks back and read the first chapter, scanned the back cover and then looked at other titles by this author.  One title in particular stood out, Under the Gypsy Moon.  As I have said, I have a bit of a book obsession.  Many years ago on one of my splurges, I had purchased a number of hard cover fiction titles from the book store where I was working that had caught my eye.

One of those books has sat unread on my shelves.  Some of the authors I have selected over the years turned out to be "one hit wonders" - well, not even a "hit" necessarily.  This one title in particular I had looked at and almost gave away on a few occasions.  Yes, it was Under the Gypsy Moon, First Edition.  I love when things like that happen.

This past weekend I took down another unread book from my shelves, Susan Wise Bauer's The Well-Educated Mind:  A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had. I began to read the first few chapters and decided that the time was right to follow her program.  Of course, the fact that she mentions Anita Brookner and that I had just had a Brookner book in hand the night before (yes, unread)...gave me the little wink of harmonious "coincidence" that I needed.

And so I have begun a more structured reading of Don Quixote which includes journaling and taking notes.  She also recommends finding a reading partner.  Jim Livingstone is a retired English professor from Northern Michigan University and a member of my very tiny church congregation.  I called him up to see if he was interested only to discover that just this past weekend he was thinking it was time for him to reread, you guessed it, Don Quixote. You may say these are all just bits of coincidence.  I, however, choose to see them as little signals of being on the right path.

So I purchased some pens and journals and sat down to read Don Quixote.  In 2003, Edith Grossman published a newly translated version that was well received.  On a number of occasions I had considered buying the paperback of this edition.  My attempts at curbing my addiction, however, had convinced me to postpone that purchase.  Of course, I was simply delighted when I came across a pristine First Edition at my local bookstore for $9.00!

I am only a few chapters in and already I am wondering about the role of imagination in changing the world...think back to Imagining Argentina.  In my notes I jotted down something said by Carlos Fuentes and quoted on the dust jacket, "Don Quixote is the first modern novel, perhaps the most eternal novel ever written and certainly the fountainhead of European and American fiction:  here we have Gogol and Dostoevsky, Dickens and Nabokov, Borges and Bellow, Stern and Diderot in their genetic nakedness, once more taking to the road with the gentleman and the squire, believing that the world is what we read and discovering that the world reads us."

This idea...that we can alter the world with our imaginings--that we CAN change things on the eve of the 2012 Presidential Election--gives me hope.  Hope to dream the impossible dream.

Peace.

Do You Recognize Her?

This is Malala Yousufzai, the fourteen-year-old girl who was shot in Pakistan on her way to school because she was attending school.  She was defying what the religious extremists had declared as proper in the eyes of God.

I was commenting on Facebook today.  A longtime friend from high school who is a partnered lesbian posted a current meme pleading with her friends and families that if they love her they would not consider voting for Republicans.  It links to a Huffington Post article entitled The Big Lie: I Love My Gay Friends, But I'm Voting For Romney Anyway.

My comment on the thread was, "Been slowly cutting ties with alleged friends that turn out to be Republican..."  The next comment was by Ed, someone who I am presuming to be Republican.  He responded, "Unbelievable that such thinking in the last post could exist. Words just can't describe that level of mouth-breathing, degenerate mentality."  

I only stated that I am no longer considering Republicans to be "friends." (Excuse me while I pause to wipe the fog off my lap top screen from my degenerate mouth-breathing.)  If perhaps you agree with Mr. Ed that my comment was that unbelievable over the top that he is left speechless or if you are Mr. Ed himself who I intend to invite over here to have a read, then perhaps the rest of this post will explain myself.

Let's go back to the image of Malala.  Her desire for equality, her challenge to the theocratic status quo, was deemed so threatening that they attempted to assassinate her as an example to any other uppity women taking the American message of equality to heart.  You may wonder what that has to do with me?

Back in 1989 I was living in Florida attempting to find gainful employment.  For Halloween that year, the friend with whom I was staying and I drove down to Key West for the long weekend.  Two points here for background information.  (1)  Halloween is THE gay high holy day (well, at least for the boys), (2)  Key West is one of a few points on the map that is decidedly PINK (think San Francisco, Provincetown, Greenwich Village, West Hollywood...).

I was dressing up in this rather cheesy leather drag outfit...black pageboy wig, motorcycle cap, short black shorts, black nylons and garter belt, and HEELS.  I had gotten separated from my friends, either to make a trip to a rest room or some such thing and was walking back to be with them during the big Halloween Parade.  I was walking past this young man and his girlfriend when he gets in my face and points his finger up close and with an unbelievable level of hate dripping in his voice he informs me that I deserve to be shot.

Thankfully on this crowded street he didn't feel capable of carrying out his threat.  Imagine the embarrassment if they had to have laid me out in the morgue in THAT outfit.  I'm sorry but the only way I can still emotionally deal with that level of hatred is through black humor.

Earlier this year a North Carolina pastor preached that gays and lesbians should be rounded up and put into a camp until we die off.  The video of his sermon went viral.  There is a profound level of hate out there.  Hatred of gays and lesbians, hatred of transgendered folk, hatred of Muslims, hatred of undocumented Mexicans, hatred of African-Americans, especially the guy in the White House.

"Lock and load" and other quaint little tid bits of gun rhetoric are regularly used by the Right.  Lest we forget that infamous map with the gun sites over the politicians to be targeted, one being Democrat Gabby Giffords... Thanks be to God that she is alive today and can serve as a reminder to those who hate that we will not be silenced.

This past month was the anniversary of Matthew Shephard's death.  I could pull up the information on the physician who was murdered because he performed abortions.  The examples of right wing inspired violence goes on and on.

For me though it will always go back to that otherwise unremarkable young man who believed in his anger, disgust, and hatred that I deserved to die because I was gay.

Mr. Ed (the shocked man who feels I have no right to choose my friends based on politics) thinks that the gay thing is just another "issue" and one can't make a decision based on a single issue.  I'm sorry, Ed, but this is more than one issue.  This is part of platform that would grant increasing power to what can only be called The American Taliban.

Many people out there want to believe that Mr. Romney is really just a nice guy who's a bit misguided.  Well, that misguided, would-be President, chose as his running mate a politician who wishes to impose his conservative Roman Catholic beliefs on the rest of us.  The runner up in that God Awful beauty contest known as the Republican Primaries is non other than former Senator Rick Santorum (you can Google his name if you can't remember him, go on, you really should...).  He too is ready to impose socially conservative Roman Catholic ideology on us all.

It has been declared improper to bring up the National Socialist Party from history.  We are not allowed to see any comparisons between the rise to power of the Nazis and what is occurring in American politics today.  All I will say is that a significant number of otherwise good natured Germans repeatedly handed over power to one Adolph Hitler as the man who stood for a powerful Germany, who would bring the right kind of change so desperately needed, and who brought along some rather extreme social ideas as well.

No, I am not comparing Mitt Romney to Hitler.  He doesn't have nearly enough charisma.  He is simply a very spoiled, exceedingly rich, man who thinks it would be cool to be president  (another son with "daddy" issues).  However, there are some very frightening people in our country today who are waiting for the right individual so they can put on their brown shirts and start cleaning up this country.  These people are the "base" of Romney's support and they are armed and dangerous.

And so I am drawing a line in the sand for people who I deem to be my friends.  I cannot respect anyone who would pretend the hate isn''t there and vote Republican.  Mitt Romney has shown over and over that he is beholden to this extreme, tea bag right wing.  The man who kenneled his dog on the roof of his car would throw gays and lesbians under the bus if it meant he kept his hold on power.

If that isn't enough to convince you, then perhaps we should talk about what this means to women and girls.  If the Republicans take control of the Federal Government, how long before an American Malala is attacked on her way to school for being too uppity?  Peace.

Day of the Dead

Perhaps I should have titled this post Dia de los Muertos so it would sound less like a horror movie.  Halloween (All Hallow's Eve), All Saints Day, Day of the Dead, All Souls Day...it's a special trio of days - a healthy mix of pagan and Christian - this year included the added treat of the Hunter's Moon just before.

I hope you're not expecting anything profound.  I am determined to resurrect the blog and forced myself to sit down this evening without anything in particular to say.

That's not completely true.  The rather nasty combination of Mother Nature and politics has given us much to write about, ad nauseum. However, I truly believe that vast majority of us have all made up our minds regarding the coming elections.  If you know me, you know my politics.  In most cases I believe I know yours.  I have been disappointed to learn about some dear friends of mine - their persuasions politically speaking leave me rather baffled.

One political party has very vocal members who are actively working to keep me and my kind second class citizens - one politician going so far as to suggest that folks like me should be rounded up and placed into camps until we die off.  This vocal minority scares me.  Therefore, when I learn that friends and family support this party, that they are willingly supporting a party that has a significant number of members who hate me for nothing more than falling in love with other guys...I am saddened.

Well, back to the day at hand... I posted last about the family gathering.  This was my dad's family.  I felt the presence of my grandparents - both long deceased.  There has been some unfortunate disagreements that have left a major rift between members of this branch of the family.  I don't want to go in specifics so if that doesn't seem a strong enough description for some, my apologies.  It was the first time that almost all of us were gathered and the grievances were set aside out of respect for the occasion.  I am certain that this pleased my grandparents who were there in spirit. Both sets of my grandparents put a very strong emphasis on family.  Perhaps we can build on that brief truce and begin mending fences.  I'll keep hoping and praying.

I was fortunate to know two of my great grandmothers briefly as a child.  These were my mom's two grandma's.  My mom tells the story of visiting one of them as she was dying in hospital.  She commented to my mom who was twenty-eight at the time on how fast life flew by.  Now my mom is approaching that same age as her dying grandmother.  I am almost as old as my oldest grandparent on the day I was born.  It really does fly by.

Perhaps why I like this triad of days.  It is set aside to remember those who have gone before us - family and friends.  I've only just really grasped that most of my grandparents' generation is gone.  My grandmother and her sister both hang on in their nineties.  My great aunt just lost her husband this past week.  I believe that one of their sisters-in-law is also still alive.  On my dad's side, I believe they are all gone now, except perhaps my grandfather's sister-in-law.  These were the "old" people of my youth at family gatherings and they are almost all gone.  I remember them all on this day.

Peace.

Back Again...Thanks, Aunt Dawn

Last weekend I was at a family gathering out of state.  I was able to visit with aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephew and parents all together for the first time in a long, long time.  One of my aunt's asked me when I would start blogging again, so this is for her.  Thanks, Aunt Dawn, for the motivation.

I have been going through another time of significant transition.  For me this usually involves poorly controlled anxiety/depression, other health related issues, my job, my home, my life, animals, aloneness vs. lonliness, and this year the election.  Essentially I feel once again like my life is unraveling or to use another hackneyed metaphor - my life has always been a long and winding road and I've been willing to take off bravely down uncharted paths only now to find that I am at the end of a dirt road in the middle of no where, dead end.

Since I posted last, I have successfully weaned off of prednisone and my spondylitis is controlled primarily with methotrexate, but also with regular use of pain meds in the evenings.  At my last appointment my doctor voiced concerns about my regular use of such meds because of the addiction potential.  I challenged her on it and she said, "Yeah, but I wish you didn't need to take them."  My smart alec response was, "As long as we are wishing, how 'bout we wish I didn't have the disease at all?"

Then I laid it out for her.  What are my options?  Restart prednisone?  That will throw my diabetes back out of whack, require additional meds, perhaps even insulin, resulting in continued weight gain, etc.  OK, how about the next level of medications, Embrel (?) for example.  Unfortunately, I am Hepatitis B positive - most likely exposed via sexual activity when I was younger.  I have never had full blown hepatitis, but the virus is there waiting.  This other generation of meds comes with the handy side effect of triggering relapses of hepatitis.  If I were to try those meds for better control, I would have to also take prophylactic treatment for hepatitis along side.

Neither of these options are worth the concern over my becoming a junkie.  I told her that we haven't had any problems with creep and until I'm taking Vicodin for breakfast, I think we should proceed as we are doing.  My "pain" is not significant - it is about a 2-3/10 burning sensation that starts up in various joints later in the day.  I'll take my chances.

Do you ever get the Seven-Year-Itch?  It is more than just a Marilyn Monroe movie, don't you know.  It is the belief that happiness undergoes a crisis in seven year cycles, primarily that a marriage has issues in the seventh year.  Well, I was approaching my seventh year in the house in town when I moved out here and I just had my seventh anniversary in this house, so you put two and two together and see what you think.

I don't know if I have any legitimate cause to gripe and whine about my life.  Many of my contacts are dealing with significant life challenges...divorce, health issues in themselves or their spouses, financial struggles, etc.  As I vent here on the blog, it is not that I believe my issues take priority, but rather that I show folks it is safe to share their struggles with friends and family.  Perhaps some will find comfort in seeing that they are not alone.  Perhaps I hope too much.

This last trip down South was the first time in fourteen years where I could have just stayed.  The last two or three years have been very isolating.  Watching my health deteriorate and having no one close by to rely on.  I had a simply marvelous time on the family cruise in August with the nieces and nephew.  I want so much to be a solid part of their lives and fear that given the distance between us all, that will continue to be difficult.  A very good friend would like very much to share a two flat - which could solve some of the animal issues I would face in a relocation.  I just don't know.

On the other hand, I do love my house.  It is very affordable on my current budget.  I only work four days a week at something that I am physically able to do.  I enjoy my co-workers even if they try my patience occasionally (no doubt, I do the same to them).  The dogs are free range animals here.

I don't have to make any immediate decisions.  Of course, the ambiguity pushes my buttons.  It was incredible fun to be in SideTrack again in Boystown.  I was amazed that after fourteen years most of the guys in the bar were adorable!  It seems my "eye" has changed with age and I am more forgiving of physical flaws.  Could I actually find a relationship if I returned to the city?  I am properly medicated now so much of my anxiety issues are under control.  Would that possibility be worth giving up my current life?  You may now see the meaning of my title image...emotional vertigo...

Well, this is a start at blogging again.  I won't promise anything and it was incredibly self centered and facile.  Forgive me...I'm out of practice.  Peace.

Radical Hospitality

I have previously mentioned that I am working my way through The Rule of Benedict.  However, my good friend and cyber sistah, Maria, often talks about Benedictine radical hospitality.  Back in the way back, weary travelers could appeal to the brothers at a Benedictine abbey for shelter and they would be welcomed.

Although my brain can wrap itself around that level of hospitality, my contemporary brain ends up thinking of the brothers as an early Holiday Inn Express.  As an image wandering travelers knocking at a gate and being welcomed with food, drink, and shelter just doesn't translate well for me.

Now Victor Hugo gave me a much better example of radical hospitality that I still wrestle with wondering if I would be able to be that welcoming.  In Les Miserables, early on Jean Valjean has been released after something like 18 years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving family. 

In 19th century France, a convict was forced to carry yellow identifying papers that were presented for everything and to not do so was cause enough to be sent back to prison for violating one's parole.  Further, this was a time when towns closed their gates at night, unknown travelers were not trusted, and vagrancy was darn near criminal.  Odds were highly stacked against a prisoner sent back into the world.  Nothing like today (snort).

Jean Valjean knocks at the door of a kindly bishop who apparently lived modestly when one considers how bishops live today.  Jean Valjean is exhausted, hungry, and without hope.  He presents his papers expecting to be turned away, but the bishop invites him in as his guest.  The cook/housekeeper is suspicious and sets the table with wooden dishes.  The bishop corrects her and instructs her to lay out the silver for their guest.  She is, of course, appalled.

I'm tempted to side step a bit and tell you the story of the frog and the scorpion but I will give you the bare essentials.  After convincing the frog to carry him across the rising river to safety, the scorpion stings the frog.  The frog asks the scorpion why he did that - that they will both die.  The scorpion's response, "I couldn't help myself, I'm a scorpion."

Well, Jean Valjean, in a moment of weakness, sneaks from his bed and bags up the silver plates and utensils and leaves...

Not far down the road he is stopped and searched.  The combined possession of his yellow convict papers with a bag of silver aroused the officer's suspicion.  In a moment of desperation, Jean Valjean tells him that the bishop gave him the silver.  He is forced to return with the officer and is mortified to face the man who's kindness he rewarded with theft.

This is where the bishop's hospitality crosses over into the radical variety.  The bishop answers the door and in an instant understands the circumstances.  He chides Jean Valjean for forgetting to take the candlesticks as   well.  The officer is astonished, as is Jean Valjean.  The bishop reminds him that he had given him the silver so he could turn around his life.

THAT is radical hospitality and I don't know if I would be able to follow the bishop's example.

I have tried though.  Time and again I offered things to my former neighbor out of compassion, not expecting financial compensation.  Once I called him and asked him if he knew how to fix washers...he was a bit suspicious, "Yes.  Why?"  Well, I had bought a new washer and was going to give him my old one for one of his rental properties if he wanted it.  It was in need of minor repairs.

Recently I responded to a request for housing.  After living alone most of my adult life, I will be renting space to a graduate student and his dog.  I continue to learn much from Benedict and feel very optimistic about this arrangement.  Being able to share my home just seems right.

Peace.

Dirty Windows

I have lived in this log home (see pic above) for nigh on seven years.  I lived in my house in town for almost seven years.  Cleaning the windows was never a big priority.  However, in town the house was a small ranch and I did clean them on occasion myself.  This house is a bit of a tree house placing the windows up a whole story above the house in town.  Further, this being the woods, this house is darker surrounded as it is by big tall trees.

About a year ago, I finally decided to hire in some help and get the place thoroughly cleaned. Two years of mysterious pain and disability had worn me down.  The house was filthy and I simply didn't have the strength and ability to clean it properly.  As part of the "super clean" that I requested of the agency I hired, I requested that the windows and screens get cleaned.

The day of the big clean arrived and Cindy brought along a window cleaning man as a sub contractor.  I was simply astounded by the results.  More than one friend of mine, upon seeing the change, commented that it was about time I had gotten around to getting the windows cleaned.

This is how I also experience my depression.  Mine is not the unwashed, lying in a dark room, not eating, not sleeping variety.  It is much more the frog in the tepid water, heated and slowly boiling to death.

Despite an awareness that March/April is the worst time of year for me - apparently I can't even do seasonal depression right - I still couldn't recognize how dirty my emotional windows had become.

I met with my doctor and we talked about the season and decided that if after roughly a month with the onset of spring and warm weather I still had not improved, I should increase my medication (Lexapro).  I took a much needed vacation and went to visit with friends.  However, once back home and at work I knew things were not improving.

I feel very fortunate that I have such a wonderful response to my drug.  Many people don't seem to have the results that I experience.  Within a very short time, I was looking through sparkling clean windows again and wondering why I had waited so long.

In my defense, I will say that chronic pain and fatigue from my auto immune condition in combination with the ongoing attempt to wean off the prednisone, and the constant though improved fluctuation of my blood sugars with the diabetes...it was very difficult to assess what was going on - all I knew for certain was I had no energy, I was requiring longer than usual amount of sleep each night, and my mood sucked.

I can't help wondering about the dirty windows though.  Why didn't those friends ever mention the appalling state of my windows and encourage me to get them cleaned?  Was it out of politeness?  Were they afraid I would get angry?  Were they afraid I might ask them for help?  How do you react when you see a friend of yours with dirty windows?  What do you do?  It's not an easy question.

Peace.

Planet of the...Apes?

"Beware the beast Man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother's land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death."  from the Sacred Scrolls (Planet of the Apes)

Believe it or not I have been thinking about Roddy McDowell as Cornelius reading from the scrolls in the movie in response to the news of that ghastly "zombie" attack in Florida.  I only read a bit of the text of what occurred and couldn't bring myself to read more let alone investigate the You Tube video clip and photos.  My God what have we come to?

The attacker, shot dead by police, was apparently high on "bath salts" - sold in head shops as a new high.  Individuals who actually bother to snort this nasty chemical combination experience a high that can end in fits of extreme paranoia and violence.

I recall reading an article a year or so ago about two brothers on a boat in Florida who came across a plastic wrapped package of white powder floating on the lake.  The one brother thought perhaps he had hit the mother load and snorted what he hoped was cocaine up his nose.  Before long he was out of control, ripping the boat apart.  He died a few hours later at the hospital.

What does it say about these individuals that they would knowingly ingest chemical compounds into their bodies for the sake of some delirium? What does it say about us as a species?

From what I understand, it is not uncommon to seek out "out of body" experiences - even in the animal kingdom.  Little kids will spin in circles around and around just to experience the dizziness.  Older children will climb onto amusement park rides that spin their bodies round and round and turn them upside down.  Even older kids will drink alcohol or smoke marijuana, among other substances.

In the animal world, birds and beasts of a variety of species will gorge themselves on fermenting berries and fruit, simply for the intoxicating qualities they possess.

In the case of the "bath salts" or crystal meth - where chemical compounds are poisoning our bodies for the sake of a high - that is where I am baffled.  If one was raised in most Christian denominations you were taught that the human body is a temple.  Whether or not you believe in the Resurrection or life hereafter, you would have to agree that our bodies are very essential to life.  Yet in so many ways we ransack that temple without a second thought to what we are destroying.

Isn't this also how we treat the planet?

For the sake of our highs (economic, comfort, excitement) we pollute and devastate the planet.

One wonders if there is simply something wrong in our DNA.  After all, is their really that much difference between one man high on bath salts, ripping the face off of another human with his teeth and a corporation high on profits, ripping apart the mountains of West Virginia for the sake of cheaper coal?

Peace.

Not one. Not two.

I am using a book by Sr. Joan Chittister as a daily meditation.  Her book, The Rule of Benedict:  A Spirituality for the 21st Century takes the Rule and breaks it down into daily chunks to which she adds some wonderful commentary.  For example, below is the commentary to yesterday's selection.

Benedict, whose whole way of life is steeped in the psalms, relies heavily on the psalms here to prove God's probing presence to the individual soul. God, Benedict says quite clearly, is within us to be realized, not outside of us to be stumbled upon.  It is not a game of hide-and-seek we play in the spiritual life.  It is simply a matter of opening our eyes to the light that drives out the darkness within us.


"How does a person seek union with God?" the seeker asked.


"The harder you seek," the teacher said, "the more distance you create between God and you."


"So what does one do about the distance?"


"Understand that it isn't there," the teacher said.


"Does that mean that God and I are one?" the seeker said.


"Not one. Not two."


"How is that possible?" the seeker asked.


"The sun and its light, the ocean and the wave, the singer and the song. Not one. Not two."


I find this tremendously comforting.  Despite the "His eye is on the sparrow" mentality that tries to assure us that we are each the focus of God's undivided attention, the bottom line for me is that smacks of too much making God in our own image - as if God is some amazing multi-tasking, control freak.  Whereas this emphasizes how we are all part of God, God is within and around us.  God "knows" us because we are the body.

The examples are all the more fitting for their transient nature.  The light, the wave, the song all dissipate in a moment as do we.

"Love The Warrior, Hate The War"

This post originated as a comment on Mimi's blog.  It got too long, however, and so I place my thoughts here instead.  I can't remember how to make that link so just look over to the left there on the blog page.

Love the Warrior, Hate the War?  Make me wince as much as the phrase it is playing with.  With the exception, perhaps, of the marine corps...I wonder how many kids (and I DO mean kids) in the military would define themselves as a warrior.  Soldier, sailor, zoomie (sorry I never could figure out what Air Force enlisted call themselves)but warrior I suspect would not be top of the list.

I responded to a comment thread on FB about saying "Thanks" to vets.  I often forget that I am a veteran.  I joined the Navy at 18 as a way to get out of the house on my own terms.  It was peace time.  It was the Navy.  It was a big adventure.  It also felt very normal and average.  When folks have said "thanks" it reminds me that what I did at 18 was not normal and average.  It was exceptional and I did it by choice.  Not once in making my decision did I think "Yeah, Baby, I'm gonna be a Warrior!"

Which brings me back to that phrase.  Yes, we continue to carry cultural guilt over how we treated our Vietnam Vets.  The anti-war  crowd, angry at the pro-war crowd forgot that most of the little guys were drafted.  Further, they ignored the fact that many of the gung ho "Warriors" rapidly changed their minds after some time on the ground in Nam.  Beyond that the pro-war folks had to deal with the fact that we lost.  We went from the glory of WW II victory to the stale mate of Korea to the evacuation of Saigon.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that we shouldn't punish the kids who sign up - even in an alleged "volunteer" military.  Yet, the power brokers seem to have turned Support the Troops into a modern version of America, Love It or Leave It.  There is a strong sense among many that supporting our troops means shutting up and not criticizing the war effort.

I understand the spirit of "Love the Warriors" even if I don't exactly agree with it.  For starters I would begin by  eliminating the use of "Troops."  Troops is too close to describing the human beings involved as if they were military hardware.  In a way it is how we have sanitized the casualty reports.  We say that so many troops were killed, rather than identifying them as so many marines, so many sailors, so many soldiers, etc.  I believe part of how we got here has to do with the fact that the Pentagon didn't want us reminded of the fact that they placed sailors on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan...we might question why Navy personnel were being used in that capacity.  Yet, the 3,000th casualty in Afghanistan was a sailor.  Folks have argued that "Troops" just makes it simpler reporting the casualties.  Why should it be simpler? Other than we don't want to look to closely at death.  It makes the war go down easier.

After eliminating the euphemistic use of Troops, I would force the government to go back to calling it The War Department...who are we kidding but ourselves calling it the Defense Department?  Iraq and Afghanistan were both scams as war.  Need I remind you that Osama was found in Pakistan?  One of our alleged allies.  Need I remind you that 18 of the 19 terrorists on 9/11 were Saudis, another one of our allies.

Maybe if we could initiate changes like these, stop the spin and marketing of bloody, destructive war, we could bring an end to the need for a Memorial Day holiday.

I'm Ba-a-a-ack...

As Elton John once sang, "The bitch is back..."  Once I had given up on home internet access it became very difficult to blog on any kind of regular schedule.  For the most part I prefer to spout off extemporaneously.  I never could get used to creating posts on my lap top and then uploading them later.

Then I purchased a smart phone and had internet at home again, albeit it without a keyboard and on a very tiny screen.  This too proved too much for my blogging skills.

However, I finally investigated on unused function on my phone - "3G Hotspot" - and stopped into the Verizon store today to see what the added cost would be.  Turns out that for $20.00 a month I can now use my phone to create a wireless connection in my house and Bob's-Your-Uncle my lap top is ready to go and so am I.

Let's see...updates.

Health:  I am almost completely weaned off the prednisone - down to 2 mg a day.  Hopefully, the weight that I gained last summer will begin to slip off.  I have a grossly swollen left forefinger.  I am back now with the local rheumatologist and she concurs that my level of pain is better than advancing to the next level of treatment, which for me would involve preventative meds to avoid hepatitis.  I use pain meds every night and can live with this level of disability.  As there is a strong correlation between my autoimmune disease and inflammatory bowel disease I am now also seeing a GI doctor and he has scheduled my very first colonoscopy for July 2.  I'm back to oral meds only in controlling the diabetes.  

Work:  All I will say is that the hospital has been sold and they are hammering out the deal.  That is stressful but as this is a public blog I will not say any more about it.

Travel:  I finally took a well needed vacation and did a 1500 mile road trip.  I zipped over to Minnesota and visited with my good friend Lisa.  I also bought some fat man clothes as I am too large these days to shop at the local stores.  I highly recommend J.C. Penney's Big and Tall section and with the Ellen DeGeneres thang - they are the latest GLBT Corporate Heroes.  From there I headed due south on US 63 all the way across Iowa and into Missouri where I had my very first Internet/Blog/Facebook meet up with my awesome cyber-Sistah Maria.  I too was HER first house guest in her newly renovated space.  From there I headed through Illinois and stopped over night at the folks' house to have a family birthday dinner on the first day of my Jubilee year (yes I will turn 50 next birthday).  It was the first time the family was all together in quite awhile. I also got to meet my youngest niece for the first time.  I took Frankie with me.  I had a bit of a scare a month or so ago and want to have some quality time with him before he crosses the rainbow bridge.

Animals:  Frankie is hanging in there - he'll be 15 in July.  Skittles is doing great.  Both of them have been started on Rimadyl though for arthritis pain.  Not sure it's helping Skit though which leaves us wondering why she's not fully weight bearing on her left back leg.  The other girls are doing fine.  Abby the cat continues to hang in there despite her FLV diagnosis from over 16 months ago.

That's enough for now.  I'll put up a link on Facebook but please tell your friends that Renzo is back.

Peace.