STILL TRUE

Jackson Brown wrote this back in the eighties. And it seems truer and truer every year. Especially with the information about where Romney got some of his seed money for Bain. From Salvadoran oligarchs who were either financing the death squads or sitting over in the corner with their fingers in their ears, humming real loud. How you do it is just as important as what you do. 

LIVES IN THE BALANCE

I've been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that you've seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war

And there's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs

On the radio talk shows and the T.V.
You hear one thing again and again
How the U.S.A. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends--
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally can't take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire

There's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can't even say the names

They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they're never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire

JACKSON BROWN

ODE TO HOPEFULLY THE LAST EMPIRE

This fiery indictment by Pedro Casaldaliga is modeled after Ode to Roosevelt by Nicaraguan poet Reuben Dario. It is painful and eye opening to understand how this country is seen by those who have been on the receiving end of our "freedom fighters." Five billion in aid and over seventy thousand deaths  to El Salvador alone in the Reagan/Bush era. 

ODE TO REAGAN

You are being excommunicated by me and the poets, the children, the poor of the land:

Pay attention!

We’ve got to see the world in human terms.

Don’t play Nero.

This isn’t a movie, you screen monkey.

You’re the leader of a great nation!

(I’ll tell your people to clean off forever the shit your cowboy boots have tracked over your flag.

And I’ll tell them, when they vote, to realize they may be selling a lot of blood and their own honor!)

You may have inebriated the world with Coca Cola, but there is still someone lucid enough to tell you “No!”

The profits and power of your weapons cannot be valued above the feverish wail of a little black child.

Empires no longer suit the race of human beings.

Listen Reagan,” the sun rises as sun for everyone and the same God rains over every life god has invited to the celebration.

No people is greatest.

Take care of your own back yard.

Respect us.

Rachel has found you out Herod, and you will have to answer for her desolation.

Sandino’s star is waiting for you in the hills and in the volcano a single heart awakes: like a sea of indignation, little girl Nicaragua will smash your aggression.

The blood of martyrs sustains our arms and becomes a song and fountain in our mouths. You have never seen the hills, Reagan, nor have you heard in their birds the voice of the voiceless. You know nothing of life and song means nothing to you.

Don’t come to us with hypocritical morality, you mass murderer, you’re aborting a whole people and their revolution!

The lie you pass off to the world (and to the pope) is the worst drug. You are showing Freedom (in an exclusive screening) while you block the way to Liberation.

“The United States is powerful and mighty.” All right! “In God… we Trust.” You may think you’re the owners, you may think you have everything, even god, your god- the bloodstained idol of your dollars, the mechanical Moloch- but you don’t have the God of Jesus Christ, the Humanity of God! I swear by the blood of His Son, killed by another empire, and I swear by the blood of Latin America-now ready to give birth to new tomorrows- that you will be

 the

last

(grotesque)

emperor. 

A CRY IN THE WILDERNESS?

Between the kitten and politics I’ve been the invisible woman lately. Midge is doing fine, thank you. I’d take more pictures but all you’d see right now is a blur.  That girl can really move. 

Politics? Yuck. All I can say is vote as if your right to vote depended on it, it probably does.

I’ve been continuing my reading of the Latin Americans. Powerful voices. Prophetic voices. Unheard in much of this country. Suppressed by the Vatican. Attempted to suppress anyway.  If only we had voices like this in this country. So I’m going to try something. Put excerpts in my blog.

Much of the material comes from the eighties and the nineties. Read if you wish. Copy if you like. But, think about what’s being said. What it means now. And how the silence, indifference and but we’re fighting Communism of then (and I’m guilty too) is coming back to bite us on the ass now.

Pedro Casaldaliga is the retired bishop of Sao Felix do Araguaia in Brazil. He is an unapologetic follower of liberation theology. And locked horns with his superiors and the Vatican more than once.  And if I can keep this up we’ll see why he refused to be silent.

“The fact that the Salvadoran Human Rights Commission has asked me for a statement on behalf of the rights of Salvadoran refugee children makes me deeply ashamed before God and history.

Ashamed of being a human being and ashamed of being a Christian. Impotent and frustrated despite my hope.

For Central America has been an open wound for years. And the so called Christian west and, too often the very church of Jesus, have manifested passive complicity if not open involvement while neocolonialism, the oligarchy, and military repression-which means jail, torture and death- decimates these tiny peoples at the waist of the Americas.

And the criminal nightmare has become a routine news item, or has even ceased being news, upstaged by a soccer ball…

I am not going to make a statement. Any word that is just a word seems cynical to me. May any of us who can passively witness the pain of Central America be cursed by the living God.

Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos…will threaten the wrath of Yahweh against our insensitive society and church.

The statement is there, inexorable. Let those who have ears to hear listen to the cry of an exiled child. Let those who have eyes to see witness the anemic faces of refugee mothers and children. “ 

Bishop Pedro Casaldaliga in  In Pursuit of the Kingdom.

KITTEN UPDATE

I'd post more pictures but getting Henrietta Hairball, better known as Midge, to stay still long enough to get her picture taken is a challenge. Yes, she does go to sleep. But, she does it in her playpen; an upside down laundry basket so you can't see much.

She's eating out of a bowl. Drinking her kitty milk out of a bowl. She'll drink water, but so far I've had the best luck using the sink in the bathroom. She can "see" it before she sticks her nose in it and forgets to hold her breath.

She can get her basket turtle almost anywhere she wants to go. And she's discovered the back room, kitty room. Nice, big, cat proof. Room to run. And she does it very well. It's time to introduce her to the rest of the house. When the other cats aren't in. Except Bandit. Bandit basically has the attitude of "look kid, leave the tail alone and we'll get on just fine."

She reminds me of most small children, furry or otherwise. It's either full tilt or dead stop. And right now she's at dead stop for a nap.

OR MAYBE MIDGE

We're still working on it as her personality gets stronger.

Her favorite corner on the couch. You can only get to her from the front. Something about those blue eyes.

I swear this little lady gets bigger every day. Once I'm sure she's "safe" we take up the rugs in the bathroom and let her run around and go "hunting."

If I just pull a little harder maybe I can get this down. She's doubled in weight and had her first try at sold food today. I think she liked it. Now we work on the water bowl. Use the laundry basket as a "turtle" Lisa calls it. She pushes at the handholds and can really cover ground when she wants to. Came boogieing out to the floor by my chair. Got her out and she practically vaulted into the litter box. She's working on it.

SUNNY

I didn’t fall off the face of the earth. But, what can I say about the endless campaign season and the slow moving train wreck the Republicans are stuck with? And we’ve acquired a new member of the family.

Sis and her family came down for the Ducks game two weeks ago. While they were getting ready to hike over to the stadium big brother helped out his little brother by taking out the recycling. He came back in with a box in his hand and the announcement that he was never doing that again. In the box was a kitten. A very small, very loud kitten. Which resulted in a panic call from sis. You could hear it in the background. They have dogs. The boys live in apartments. So mom and I shrugged and told her to bring the furry package of squall over to us. About ten minutes later she arrived with an absolutely tiny ball of royally PO’d fur. I had spotted milk replacement at Fred’s so. Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to Fred’s I go. In the meantime the kitten was screaming it’s little head off.

Luckily we have a kennel that we could set up complete with hot water bottle. The original idea was to foster the little bit. Well, she (I think she’s a she) wormed her way into our hearts, This bit of fluff is one tough little lady. She’s hanging onto her life with all four paws and hanging on for dear life. 

Within a couple of days I set up a laundry hamper as a play pen. Took her two days to figure out how to get out. We’re talking a kitten I could hold in one hand and weighed in at herkin’ eight ounces. If you turn it over she manages to scoot it across the kitchen floor.

Two weeks in She’s almost doubled in size, has some idea what a litter box is for, sleeps most of the night. Today she learned that she could run. The back half doesn’t quite track with the front half all the time but that little girl can sure move. And the quilt rack we use for towels is perfect for sneak and peek.

And the foster thing/ She’s inserted herself into our hearts. And we want to see how the story turns out. 

BLOOD MONEY PART 2

El Salvador. Two words that make it impossible for me to vote for Mitt Romney even if I wanted to. By 1983 several priests, an archbishop and four American churchwomen (three nuns and a lay missionary) had been murdered.The sister's crime? Trying to get refugees out of the killing zones. Running a school and an orphanage for children who had lost their parents in the fighting? Our ambassador to El Salvador, Robert White was fired by the Reagan Administration for not towing the party line.

 In December 1981 the Atlacatl battalion, American trained at the school of the Americas, entered the village of El Mozote. By the time they left about three days later, the people of El Mozote and several surrounding smaller hamlets were dead. The youngest was eight months old. There was more violence to come before the decade was over, but all of this was known before Romney accepted the investments of the El Salvadoran oligarchs.

That Romney and Bain were willing to business with families that either contributed or stood by while these murders took place is more than I can stomach. There's an old saying. All that is needed for evil to flourish is for good men and women to do nothing.

SKYLIGHTS

Five in the morning. Venus,  the last quarter moon and Jupiter all lined up. Venus and Jupiter have been my morning companions while I feed the cats the last couple of months. Sometimes I even remember to put my glasses on so they're less of a blur, but they're bright enough that even I can see them. 

Picture from Starry Night Backyard. 

BLOOD MONEY

Just when you think it can't possibly get any worse this headline greets your unbelieving eyes. MITT ROMNEY STARTED BAIN CAPITAL WITH MONEY TIED TO DEATH SQUADS.  Included in the list were the supporters Roberto D'Aubisson's ARENA party. D'Aubisson, trained at the school of the Americas at Fort Benning was finally tied to the assassination of archbishop Oscar Romero. 

Goddess can it get any worse? Drove me to haul out my old Jackson Brown albums. This one is painfully appropriate. I want to take this sorry excuse for a human being, shake him until his teeth rattle and ask him what the hell he was thinking. 

SOLDIER OF PLENTY

God is great, God is good
He guards your neighborhood
Though it’s generally understood
Not quite the way you would
You try to take the slack
Stay awake and watch his back
But something happens every now and then
And someone breaks into the promised land
Ah boy boy
This world is not your toy
This world is long on hunger
This world is short on joy

A-e-i-o
You speak as if you know
What’s good for everyone
What’s good in what you’ve done?
What’s good about a world in which
War rages at a fever pitch
And people die for the little things
A little corn, a little beans

Ah boy boy
This world is not your toy
This world is, this world is
Long on hunger
Short on joy
How much longer
You gonna keep the world hungry boy?

You measure peace with guns
Progress in mega-tons
Who's left when the war is won?
Soldier of misfortune--
Soldier of an angry call
Soldier on foreign soil
I’m not here to fight your war
I know what you're fighting for

Ah boy boy
This world is not your toy
This world is, this world is
Long on hunger
Short on joy
How much longer
You gonna keep the world hungry boy?

I wonder if he can claim he retroactively returned their investments? 

Cross posted in Women On. 

HAND FASTING BLESSING

Hand fasting is an old way of marrying. It was a legal way of getting married in Scotland until the middle of the 1930's. It's a beautiful piece, I wish I could hear is used just once. 

Raven’s Blessing Song

May the earth welcome your footsteps,

May the wind sing your tale,

May fire dance from your fingertips,

May the ocean speed your sail.

May your courage never fail you,

May your words be blessed with grace;

May the spirit of inspiration light your way.

(Goddess that first verse! Can you imagine dancing this?)

May you be a friend to your destiny

May you always know your name.

May your learn to dance with lightning

When life brings storm and rain.

May you never be far from family

Whether kin by blood or heart

May you never feel completely set apart.

May you walk through life like a balance beam

And never stumble and fall.

May you walk through a hundred angry glares

And may it not matter at all.

May you never cease to teach

And never cease to learn’

May the spark of hope inside you always burn.

May you walk with light through your underworld

May you never fear your dark

May you learn to love the monsters that populate your heart.

May you be healed of your deepest wounds

And wear the scars with pride,

And may your soul never have to hide.

May the earth welcome your footsteps,

May the wind sing your tale,

May fire dance from your fingertips,

May the ocean speed your sail.

May your courage never fail you,

May your words be blessed with grace,

May the spirit of inspiration light your way. 

From Hand fasting and Wedding Rituals. 

FREEDOM TO DEFEND YOUR BELIEFS

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech…”

There it is, the freedom of religion and speech part of the first amendment. That’s it, there it is. The only guaranty we have is that congress (and the lower legislatures) will make no law establishing a particular religion or practicing whatever religion you choose. The lawmakers are also forbidden to interfere with your freedom of speech.

It does not guaranty that your neighbors will accept the religion you follow. If you happen to know any pagans ask them how free they feel these days. Especially live in back of beyond rural America or in the Bible Belt.

The constitution does not guaranty that anyone will listen to you, agree with you, stay in the same room with you, disagree with you or demand that you back up your claims. Now here is where rubber is hitting the road. The claimant has to come up with something more that I believe such and such to be true. Or, the favorite when it comes to gays and marriage equality “the Bible says so.”

The fundagelicals have been getting a free ride for generations with that one phrase along with the quotation of one of a half dozen verses on the subject. That’s not good enough anymore. I want facts, not scripture. Legal examples not “I believe such and such to be true.” How about some examples of how folks used to get married, probably still get married and how that overlaps with their view of “traditional” marriage.

I suspect that what really bothers those denouncing the views of the owner of Chick-fil-a isn’t his support of “traditional marriage.” Whatever the heck that is. What bothers me is the implicit violence in his belief that gay marriage will call God’s judgment on the nation. If you believe that, then you may just believe that any action necessary to avoid that judgment is justified.

And that, heads us down a path most of us don’t want to follow. Imagine someone like the Aurora, Colorado shooter only he’s convinced that his mission is to save us from God’s wrath. And while we’re at it we’ll go after the families and friends of our targets just to make sure the danger is averted. 

DEMAND RESPECT, YOU'V EARNED IT

Stop dismissing the Chick-fil-A fight by Guy Branum. When you read this remember all of the Pat Robertson style denunciations that fill the air whenever Mother Nature sneezes and substitute Wiccan, or Pagan, or tree hugger, or any other group that's born different or chooses to walk a path that's barely tolerated these days.

I'm straight but I'm about one fourth Quaker and about three fourths Celtic I'll get this figured out one day and I agree one hundred percent with what the author says. Just listen to the Pat Robertson's of the world whenever Mother Nature sneezes. It's the fault of the gays, the lesbians, the tree huggers, the wiccans, the neo pagans, WHOEVER. Whether you were born a little different or you've chosen a spiritual path that goes beyond what's "tolerated" we all need to stand together.

"I don't ask for tolerance: I demand respect." from a comment by another member of the HP community a couple of days ago.

And we can start by reminding these folks that all the constitution gurantees is that Congress won't make laws abridging freedom of speech, restricting religion or favoring one over the other. The constitution doesn't guranty that anyone will agree with you, listen to you, stay in the same room while you're talking or keep quiet if they believe you're wrong, disrespectful or hateful. One side has been hiding behind "freedom of" for far too long as attempts are made to take freedom from others. 

I got a kick out of a few comments claiming that the money the Dan Cathy donates isn't going to hate groups. After all it's just libs and leftists who claim that the likes of the Family Research Council and the American Family Association are hate groups. And anyway it's his money he can do what he wants. Before it was his money it was our money and some folks aren't too happy with where it's going. 

I'm almost happy that these dust ups are finally happening. We've wallpapered over the cracks in our society for far too long. The moderates in this country outnumber the ultra conservatives but we've allowed them to define the words and set the agenda for far too long. 

It's long past time for us to shout out "hell yes, I have an agenda. I demand to be respected as a human being not defined by orientation, gender, the spiritual path I follow or the belief that the earth is just a really, really big space ship and it's past time we treated her that way. 

TOLERANCE OR RESPECT?

This comment was in reply to an article on fundamentalists and their view of religious liberty; a one way street in the author’s opinion. Chick-fil-A Dustup Shows Freedom for Fundamentalists Is a One-Way Street

“you know, this "tolerance" talking point is getting really weak.

I do not tolerate someone saying ugly things about me. Do you?

If Mr. Cathy wants to speak about himself, that's okay. He has every right to speak about someone else. Fortunately, the person he speaks about has the right to respond.

Mr. Cathy doesn't live in a bubble. Everyone has the same right to speak, including and especially those that have been spoken about.

It has absolutely nothing to do with tolerance.

Gay people don't want or need your tolerance. We demand equality. Tolerance presupposes that you are superior to me...that I must beg you for your approval of me somehow.

I don't have to do that.

I don’t ask for tolerance: I demand respect.”  Screen name CRandallB

Tolerance: Sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one’s own beliefs; or the act of allowing something.  It can also mean the allowable deviation from a standard, especially the range of variation permitted in maintaining a specified dimension in machining a piece or part.

To be honest, like many folks, I’ve never looked at the idea o f tolerance from the “I’m sick and tired of being tolerated” side of the fence.  And frankly, as one quarter Quaker and three fourth Celtic I’m workin’ on it, I may find myself with more sympathy for that point of view than before.

And this gentleman has said it a lot better than I ever could.  Especially when the attitude of too many folks is ‘you just get back in the closet and I’ll tolerate you.” Thanks but no thanks. 

A HUMMINGBIRD'S WINGS

Yesterday morning I held a hummingbird in the palm of my hand.

We have an partially enclosed porch and it flew in and got turned around, kept trying to fly through the glass at the end of the porch. The wings were so loud in the enclosed space and was that chirp coming from that bit of beak and feathers. I managed to get the lower pane open and then came the fun part. Finally I had it in my hand. How does something that tiny survive? Managed to maneuver it down to the open window. In a moment it was streaking away, chirping all the way.