Four Score and Twenty Years Ago

When I was in elementary school, homeschooled, my mother had me memorize the Gettysburg Address.  I can never quite remember past that first sentence, but it is somewhere in my being, waiting to resurface.  A torn nation, with less social media, but as much pain; brother against brother, that biblical brother-will-betray-brother idea of horrific division.  Really, we are all each others' brothers and sisters, but the least sign of adversity gives us self-righteous permission to forget.  You lied to me.  You made fun of me.  You told me off and it hurt my feelings.  You didn't do what you said you'd do.

...I'm completely 100% guilty of this, any of those, but I think it's important and beautiful to be reminded that we can do better.  I will never, ever ever agree with a lot of people I know and have known, on many a number of subjects, but have been realizing that we all want to be happy, want our families and communities to be happy, and that's it.  Everything can spring from that.  Really, everything does spring from that.  The desire for personal and mutual well-being.

And I know that's idealistic, utopian, and whatnot, but that's how my imagination works, and I have come to terms with the fact that maybe that will never change, and maybe my purpose is, in part, to remind people that things can be better.  That we can make the idea of "heaven on earth" a reality, now, no matter what people believe about spiritual realms.  We can take care of each other, eliminate the need for greed or lies for survival, and eliminate most of the bad that happens.  I don't have illusions that crafty people won't cease to exist, but I do believe that much of what people do is based out of subconscious fear that they won't have what they need, which translates into meaningless lifetimes of greed, trickery, whatever.  If we have what we need we have time to catch the few people left who are being jerks, because most of our time will be in caring for and loving one another...and probably also eating delicious, fresh, organic food and sipping fresh-brewed craft beer.....   (;

Again, maybe I'm too idealistic, but I freely admit I know this won't happen in large scale in my lifetime.  I'm ok with that.  It doesn't mean I don't still believe it's some part of what is meant to be.

Anyways, Abraham Lincoln.  Surely not perfect, he was a person (I haven't studied him in my adulthood so I've no idea), but part of what we consider to be the most pivotal periods of our history.

And, yet, our country still has so many things that are messed up that weren't fixed by that war, by the emancipation of slaves, that we can't talk about (LET'S TALK ABOUT RACE YOU GUYS BECAUSE IT STILL AFFECTS OUR DAILY LIVES oh wait that's not ok because we're afraid of confrontation or finding out we might be doing something wrong and need to change (even though it doesn't have to be that scary)).  Things that are still a part of the overall crazy divisions going on, but that have historical bases and that could be changed if we would just recognize that they are there and figure out why and how to change then.  Anyways...

I'm the Queen of Rabbit Trails, I believe.

Four Score and Seven Years Ago

The basis of these thoughts.  So.  What I originally was going to post to Facebook as a status update:


It feels at times that we are engaged in a new Civil War; one that is political and ideological, born, for the most part, out of media-manipulation that keeps individuals and communities from realizing that they do not, in fact, disagree quite so much as they are told they do.  The governmental methods must be forgotten, for they are all flawed, in one way or another.  We believe that our nation was conceived under the idea that all were created equal; we have developed that belief to include women as well as men, people of color as well as white people, and are in process of recognizing that the way we love should neither affect our equality.  I am sad that so many military members sacrifice and sometimes die in this present age for what I have come to believe is mostly the greed of powerful corporate and government forces, because there are so many people (including dear friends of mine) who truly serve out of love; for country--for community--and because the whole idea is to advance the conviction that all are equal, and that a society can thrive under a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

The famously brief, marvelously pithy, speech of President Lincoln.  My imagination sometimes strays to what that day may have been like, humid and cloudless, sweat pooling under fine suits, the weight of the ghosts of the fallen shifting around; no one would have thought about "history" being made, any more than we think about in our daily lives.

So here it is.


Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

http://www.abrahamlincolnonline.org/lincoln/speeches/gettysburg.htmc

a couple of decent rooms and a bath

Over the past few months of working with Habitat, I have become more aware of my own stereotypes regarding poverty and race than I had dreamt possible, in part because I didn't realize I had them.  I suppose that's a large part of the power of stereotypes, is that we don't realize our part in believing and upholding them.

I think that the last time I saw It's A Wonderful Life was in France.  I was visiting a friend who was studying in Aix-en-Provence, and we went to a Christmas celebration with the little protestant house church group they had gotten involved with.  That same trip, there was a hymnsing in the little cathedral there.  I was asked to videotape, so I stood in one of those little pulpit things on the side, about midway down (there I go, showing my vast understanding of Catholicism), with a videocamera in hand, trying to not be too shaky.

There's something to be said for getting rid of waste, for eliminating societal oppression, and for how super fancy buildings are often included in such ridiculousnes
s.  That said, that admitted, I must protest.  I also love beauty, and cathedrals are beautiful, at least in my experience.  America does not have many cathedrals.  Europe does.  Even small, tiny ones such as this one in Aix-en-Provence, a tiny quaint town surrounded by mountains, are beautiful.

I don't remember all the songs sung, but the finale was Silent Night, elaborated with the slow lighting of pulpits full of candles.  As the dark, arching room became illuminated by the golden flickering, I felt one of the keenest senses of the Presence of the Divine that I had ever had.  I remember the tingle, the awe, even now, so many years from then.  I can close my eyes and see that moment, that candle-lit melodic moment in time.

There's a quote from the movie which struck me recently on a very different chord than four years ago.  Now that I work with the housing aspect of social justice, the movie seems even more relevant.  Now that I find myself constantly thinking about injustice, about a living wage, about mistreating nature, about immigrant abuse, about domestic abuse, about rape culture, about violence at home and abroad-about so many things I can't sometimes focus...I am often desperately trying not to despair over so many things in this world that are despair-worthy, bringing myself back to the beautiful and hopeful, to the good things that are happening and being done.  Now that my mind is in that kind of 50 different places at once, I find that advocacy for the least of these has become a fairly consistent theme for me.

Here's George Bailey to help me finish up.  This quote hangs beside my desk, over a picture called Jesus in the Breadline by Fritz Eichenberg.

"Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about...do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community.  Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath?"

I'll see you in the morning time

This morning, as is my custom, I refused to get up early.  I even have an easy encouragement now, beyond the alarms I allow to go off every five minutes at varying times.  Even beyond the multiple times I wake up, often having to use the bathroom, often at 3, and again at 5, and again at 6.....  I have a cat, as of about two weeks ago, who loves to rustle around in the stacks of papers I am procrastinating on sorting and filing, to knock over items, to pounce on my feet as they move for new comfort under the covers, and to come over and be petted, and in turns to groom my fingers (which I try not to stop, despite the tickle, because it's so sweet).  She tries to help me wake up, but I eventually push her off the bed (and maybe cuss at her a bit, but just a little) and roll over, convincing myself anew that early rising would ruin me for the day, because I was irresponsible the night before and stayed up too late.

 The morning after St. Paddy's celebrations as he, his girlfriend and I ate breakfast, my friend Allen was telling me about his transition into life as an early-riser.  He has written his first novel, he said, in the morning-times before work.  I protested that my brain comes alive at night, that it's too hard to get out of bed, all the usual things I've been convinced of.  He countered that he once thought the same, but that getting up three hours before having to be at work has shown him that his brain comes even more alive than when he was a night owl.

I know I have no real excuse, except for bad habits.  I actually spent about a week after that conversation trying to wake up at 6ish.  I got my parents in on it; my mom called every day around 6:10 for a wee chat to help me wake up.  I got up really early on one of those days, enjoyed a walk, some breakfast, a bit of a book, and being awake when starting work.  But that was the only day.

This morning, I had time for my shower and a quick cup of espresso from my aeropress, but found my mind racing with thoughts.  I hurriedly jotted down my rant, and as I moved to the car, mentally kicked myself.  I had denied myself the time to write, and had enough ideas that I could have written some sort of essay, or something I would have liked.  Stupid.  Stupid stupid stupid.

I am determined to begin to not let bad habits rule me.

The discouraging thing is that I've felt this way for a while, and there are too many of them to defeat all at once.  I have to remind myself of the little pieces of progress, encourage myself that when I backslide and my room gets messy again or I stop cooking and produce goes bad, or whatever it is, that it doesn't mean I can't catch back up and keep improving!  My vision and desire is to be healthier, more conscious, more put-together, more reliable, and so on and so forth, by the end of the year.  That gives me time.  That gives me no reason to spiral into self-disappointment.

Periodically I remember that I haven't blogged in a while, and how much I like to.  Then I write a silly, self-reflective piece like this.  Then, I hope to move on to other musings, perhaps more interesting and useful.  Let's see what happens.