Israel Reflection

Hi friends! 

Welcome, through the Lion Gate!

It's been a while, but in my defense, since my last post, since this trip in January, I've:
1) Finished my final semester of grad school
2) Adjusted to my new role at work (kept up full time schedule)
3) Moved to a new apartment in DC
4) Switched back to the carless life (not really by my choice, but it works)
It's been a busy half-year!

Now, some of my thoughts on my trip to Israel-Palestine, where I spent the first week of 2018 with a class on Reflective Practice on Interdisciplinary Approaches to Social Change.

I touched the Mediterranean :-D

Reflective Practice is, in very simplified terms, an introspective and self-aware approach to interventions.  A practitioner or intervenor (or researcher or participant), will be affected by and have responses to the conflict at hand, and to be effective, they should be cognizant of their biases, prejudices, histories, and values, as well as ideas of right, preconceptions of solutions, and cultural assumptions.  With this awareness, they have room to build trust with the stakeholders; without this awareness, they run a distinct risk of losing their credibility.
In addition to being an important part of conflict mediation, it's also a useful life skill!

First off, an observation-cum-disclaimer: this trip really highlighted the importance of names.  Whether that particular section on the eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea is called Israel, Israel/Palestine, Palestine, the Levant (or a subset thereof), is an integral part of the socio-political complexity going on there.  Language divides people into "Pro-Israel" and "Pro-Palestine," and those in one group must, by definition, be anti-the other.  At this stage, it seems almost impossible for one to support national recognition for both the Israelis and the Palestinians, particularly in the same place.  In short, its essentially impossible to even talk about this place without a perceived bias!

I will say, the food is fantastic there!  We had such a variety of falafel, hummus, fish dishes, produce, and a personal favorite, sabikh: an Iraqi pita featuring hardboiled egg, peppers, fried eggplant, and a lot of other stuff :-D

Grocery Mural

A meal in a town at the foot of Mt Tabor

Also, the landscape is striking.  We went on a hike around a small town, and saw Tel Aviv in the distance, the mid-state border, and miles of countryside.  That town is the home of our tourguide, and he told us the story of how there had been two massive grassfires on either side of their hill, devastating the flora and some residences.  Since the fires, the community had come together to rebuild, and the plants were growing back around newly uncovered rock terraces from bygone ages.

A scene from the hike

On top of Mt Tabor

On another mountaintop, Mt Tabor, we were able to look down at an array of settlements around the base of the mountain.  They were a mix of Israeli settlements and Palestinian towns, distinguishable by their distinct streetplans and architectural styles.  On Mt Tabor, we met members of the Center for Non-Violent Communication (CNVC), an organization comprised of residents of those towns who choose to come together across their dividing lines (and across their town borders), to share meals, get to know each other, and to address their differences.  Before heading down the mountain for a delicious spread prepared by a member's mother and a CNVC meeting, we walked around the mountaintop, which also holds the Church of the Transfiguration and an Eastern Orthodox Sanctuary.

Any given religion is a complex topic on its own.  Here, religion is geographically, socially, politically, historically and identifier-ly mixed.  We met an Orthodox Jewish man who was happy to talk to our heterogeneous group which including a student of Palestinian descent, a couple of Palestinian men from refugee camps who were leading different sorts of non-violent peacebuilding initiatives (where far from being avoidance or passivity, non-violence is an active presentation and recognition of the humanity of all involved Ali Abu Awwad and Mazen Faraj), a Jewish Moroccan immigrant (our tourguide, Elad), the Christian Palestinian mayor of  Neve Shalom/Wahat-al-Salam/Oasis of Peace (NS/WAS)- an intentional mixed community (Rayek Rizek), and an observant Muslim woman who worked to advance interreligious dialogues between rabbis and imams based on their shared sacred stories and their analytical/academic approaches to studying them (Ibitsam Mahameed).

The meditation center and commemoration of Roger Wilson of Pink Floyd's concert in NS/WAS

My inner art history student celebrated seeing original frescoes!

We also met a French Benedictine monk, Brother Olivier, who has an amazing voice and works primarily in the monastery's distillery.  The monastery, centered on a 12th century Crusaders' church built on ancient Roman rules, is located in Abu Ghosh, a predominantly Muslim- Eastern European rather than Middle Eastern branch of Islam- town just west of Jerusalem.  This monastery may have housed the Ark of the Covenant at some point, still has incredible frescoes, even with the faces marked out, and absolutely gorgeous acoustics.  Brother Olivier told us about singing Psalms with a local rabbi, and about standing in solidarity with a local imam to mourn the death of a Jewish boy from the town.





Abu Ghosh also features a gas station/diner completely devoted to Elvis Presley:

An addition to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

In Jerusalem, we were based in a hotel just a few blocks from the invisible-yet-impenetrable wall between East Jerusalem and West Jerusalem, within half a mile from the Old City.  The density of the holy spaces in and around the Old City is incredible.  The Dome of the Rock build over/on the Temple Mount, with mosques within mosques around the corner from the Stations of the Cross leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, jointly maintained by the Greek Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, Roman Catholic, Coptic Orthodox, Syriac Orthodox, and Ethiopian Orthodox churches- with the key to the front door historically and currently held by a Muslim family.

Dome of the Rock, Temple Mount, Western Wall, Old City, Security Lines

Before going on this trip, I was more inclined to secular solutions than religious, but seeing these places and the palpable significance they hold for so many people, and the religious leaders justifying and demonstrating coexistence and peaceful unity with their beliefs really makes me question whether a purely secular approach is the right way.  (There's always the question of defining "right", but that would be another post.  There is a lot of potential for religion to be a progressive force for good, despite the fundamentalists, extremists, and purists who bind themselves to certain interpretations of the teachings.  Yes, this applies to every religion I know of, including my own. By whatever name, I can't imagine a universal divine being really caring about being called different names in different human languages.

As for solutions, I firmly believe that whatever comes about, it will be mixed. Also with ballroom dancing (Pierre Dulaine, the inspiration behind "Take the Lead" and "Mad Hot Ballroom" is originally from the region, and has started using his dance program to bring Israeli and Palestinian kids together)!

3 Sailboats on the Sea of Galilee

Now, though, there severe inequalities preventing real healing from taking place.  I'd had a hint in Bosnia, but on this trip I gained a much deeper understanding of what it means to be a secondclass citizen at home.  The difficulties of the Palestinians to travel internally or externally- there was one young person who dreamt of being a pilot, but couldn't, because it's a small country and it would be prohibitively difficult to get a passport.  Refugee camps, there and in many other places, where generations live just grates me wrong, every time; no one should have to spend their entire life in a refugee camp, see their children and possibly their grandchildren in a refugee camp.  There are also differences between the 3 or 4 school systems available to different subsets of the population.

The current context is built on millenia of history which is still very much part of present life.  Whenever I've gone to Europe, I've been fascinated by the buildings that haven't changed their usage in longer than twice the US's existence.  On this trip, we'd hear references to events of 500, 1000, 2500 years ago as if they happened yesterday.  We saw Canaanite ruins with Egyptian hieroglyphs in Jaffa, city walls, city walls that had been taken apart and turned into shops, and walkways worn dipped and smooth by millions of footsteps.  We  heard about overlapping claims to the territory at large, to specific houses, to worship spaces and language.  Often when the conversations turned that way, they devolved quickly into misery contests of whose ancestors, grandparents and beyond, suffered more deprivations.

So much history on history, literally! <3

Now, there are few to no opportunities for Palestinians and Jews to casually interact, and fewer on arguably equal footing, due to ingrained perceptions of power).  There is a perception among some young Israelis that part of being Palestinian is wanting to kill Israelis, and vis-versa, and I sincerely think that it's because for the most part, they live in separate worlds, although not far from each other if there were real, reachable paths connecting them.

Over the course of this week, stories from my family history came to mind, namely when my grandmother took my mom and her siblings on a year long cross country Winnebago trip, from San Francisco to New York and everywhere in between.  At one point, they stopped in Chicago, in a part of town populated by a very different demographic, who'd never seen a motorhome, and there was an impromptu cultural exchange, as the Chicagoans explored the Winnebago and talked with the Californians.  From this, I'm casually developing a theory of practice called Winnebago Diplomacy, or Peacebuilding Through Roadtrips ;-)

___
P.S.  Observation- Americans abroad are the ones who are working to make America great, not the MAGA folks.  Political context of the trip: weeks after Trump announced that the US would recognize Jerusalem as the capital- restricted our group's side trips due to security restrictions.

P.P.S. Crystallization- It is impossible to buy one's own safety with someone else's blood.


There's more to say - as always - but for now, I'll see you out.

Damascus Gate at night- Byebye!

Bosnia (with a touch of Middle Earth): An amazing country with lessons tragically earned.

Beautiful country, imperfect past.  Onward to a better future!

We play so many roles throughout our lives.  In Bosnia in the early 1990s, there were many people who were compelled to do unthinkable things to each other, to take on roles that didn't appear in their nightmares.  In a certain sense, the context excuses their actions, or at least makes comprehensible, because of similar things done to them in, confirming a cycle of destruction and exclusion.  For those who are commanded to perpetrate horrific crimes, to kill/maim/mutilate/rape/etc family, friends, neighbors, and strangers, it is hard to imagine a way back into society.

I think about J.R.R. Tolkein’s orcs, which were elves (being the epitome of his world’s wisdom and goodness and light) who were corrupted and distorted into orcs, nearly unstoppable creatures of darkness and gore.  Tolkein’s universe does draw much clearer lines between good and evil than exists in our world, but it makes me wonder about how deeply into someone’s humanity corruption can truly reach.  Is it possible for someone, barring mental irregularities, to be twisted beyond any form of redemption?  Then it gets into the bigger philosophical questions of whether people are good or bad, or if it’s circumstantial, or and what is actually our innate nature.

But, in our world, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, one of the big questions which stands out to me is the significance of espoused identity.  What is identity, group or individual, based on?  The region of Bosnia and Herzegovina has a history lasting centuries, bringing an ongoing interplay of cultural influences which created a mixed population, wherein sometimes one side superceded the other, but never completely.  It is hard to see the actual history now, because evidence indicates that over the course of the 20th century, the previous half-millenium was revised to support a stronger narrative of injustice and discrimination than actually occurred.

Now, about a quarter century after their war, the issues are still identity.  On top of the conflated concepts of Serb/Orthodox, Croat/Catholic, and Bosniak/Muslim, there are the more recently acquired titles of “aggressor,” “perpetrator,” “victim,” “avenger,” “survivor,” and “witness.”  Roles in today’s Bosnia and Herzegovina combine the heritage-based identity with factors from the role played in the conflict, constructing a concept which seems to be more “not them” than “this is me.”  A further complication seems to be the gap between an outside view of one’s identity and one’s own perception of self.  Today I wonder “who is Bosnian?” and “what does it mean to be Bosnian, if anything?”

A mosque's fountain in Mostar

Switching gears, walking around Sarajevo, Mostar, and Banja Luka has been fascinating.  The collision between the Eastern and Western influences is set in the architecture, and literally written in paving stones dividing the sections of Old Town Sarajevo- Bascarsija.  The food here is delicious, and ice cream/gelato (including a butter-based Egyptian recipe which I have yet to track down) is everywhere.  Most people seem to have a basic working knowledge of English, and there are a lot of tourists; most seem to be from other parts of Europe.  There is hardly a pause in the street life when the prayers start in the mosques, and the fountains (provided for the use of the community by the mosques) seem freely used by everybody.
 

Sarajevo Rose, bottom right, by the house on the outside of the Sarajevo Seige Tunnel

I’ve been wanting to see the Sarajevo Roses for probably almost 20 years now, and I know that many have been removed.  Now that I’ve seen some, I don’t quite know how I feel about them.  On the one hand, they are a gesture of turning something terrifying into art, redirecting their focus and reclaiming the past and its imagery, but on the other hand, is it actually helpful to retain these reminders, which look more like blood spatters rather than roses, of the violence which is present in the residents’ minds?  The buildings and streets still carry the scars from the mortar shells and bullets, even as they stand next to the shiny new glass shopping centers.  It seems a tall order for the residents to heal when they cannot avoid even the external reminders of what happened.  By now there are adults who were born after the war technically ended, but they too have always lived in a reality scarred by internal division.  How can trust be cultivated in such a situation?

A temporary exhibit on the massacre at Srebrenica was very moving, with photography and videos which showed so much of what the atmosphere was like in the middle of it.  There were 2 things that really stick in my mind from this exhibit.  The first, is how much the kids and teens in the footage laughed and sang, and found joy where they could.  The other were the accounts of the really depraved and incomprehensible acts committed.  It makes me wonder if orcs are among us.

While there are way too many stories about the horrible things that people did during the war, including the siege of Sarajevo, concentration camps around the country, the massacres in Srebrenica and other towns, during the same periods, there was also La Benevolencija (I was not expecting Spanish in Bosnia!) in Sarajevo, there were the soldiers and others digging and smuggling supplies through the tunnel under the airport, and the family and friends finding ways to live and persevere in the most terrifying situations.  In a conversation in the van, one of my classmates and I were talking about how people can laugh when basically everything is horrible, and perhaps it is because there are essentially 2 options- to laugh or to cry, and laughter brings more strength and energy for the future.


The idyllic countryside of Bosnia and Herzegovina has as much history and character as its population.  Driving between cities brought the sobering realization that it wasn’t all that long ago that the lovely wooded hillsides and statuesque mountains concealed snipers and other armed threats.  That dose of perspective made the even these drives emotionally complex instead of simply enjoyable.

 Here in the United States, those of us not in or closely connected to the military have the very great privilege of wars being a long time ago and/or very far away.  There have been attacks, but we have no real expectation of ourselves or immediate neighbors being killed while trying to fetch water.  We absolutely have problems here, in police violence, fear, mistrust, in the United States, but thankfully, that level of living in fear is still only in the inflammatory speeches of some prominent figures.  I read once that terrorism is successful when it compels the target to change in fear.  If this is so, it does seem to be prevailing.

Majestic Mountains

However, I do have hope.  Alma, Father Ivo, Ambassador Finci, Kristina Seslija, Kemal Pervanic and others are actively engaged against fear and divisiveness, working towards building a higher identity and meaning for Bosnia/Bosnian.  They have their challenges and regrets, their losses, but they are leaders by living their lives openly, by sharing their ideals, and by actively showing others that their peace-ward path is viable, practical, open, and free.  We also have brilliant people in the United States, who are working to guide our course into strength instead of fear.


Islamaphobia is still much too common, but if the Islamaphobic Americans could see what life is like in Sarajevo.  Objectively speaking, in the current perceptions on what Islam does in today’s world, it seem that the Bosniam Muslims would be ready for support from whomever, but ISIS/Daesh’s worldview just seems irreconcilable with the way Islam is practiced and lived in Bosnia, and I am grateful to have seen their example and know that it is strong.  There are still unofficial-but-obeyed rules on who lives where, but the mosques’ fountains are free and open, and the muzzein’s evening call to prayer is magical.  It reminded me of where I lived in Cincinnati, in a particularly Catholic part of town, where at whatever time in the evening, the air would be filled with the ringing of bells.  Religious conviction comes in many forms. 

A puppy we met

A country is its people.
To wrap up, here are brief profiles and reflections on some of the individuals we met in Bosnia.  They come from a variety of backgrounds, different “sides” of the conflict, but who all lived through the war.  Each of them is working in their own way to support the recovery.  They hold different national identities, each with their own personal experiences, and share the common goal of a peaceful future for a Bosnia composed of diverse Bosnians.

Alma: Alma was our Mostarian tourguide who traveled with us for the majority of our time in country.  She is very familiar with the long and short history of the country, and although her English was slightly confused on rare occasions, she communicated with us very well.  Her instincts and familiarity with local customs and behavior, and her willingness to share her observations with us outsiders were invaluable in interpreting and processing some of the interviews and interactions that we had with locals.  Living in Mostar, a divided city, she knows the tensions which predated and outlasted the war, and knows the deep personal challenges faced by her compatriots concerning moving forward, forgiveness, and healing.

Yazmin: Alma’s son Yaz is the proprietor of a coffeehouse in Mostar, as well as Alma’s substitute tourguide, as well as historical reinactor.  He and some friends created a living exhibit of the house of a high judge from 16th century (or so).  In talking with their group after, it was interesting to hear about their process of creating the scenario and characters.  Most controversial was the monologue by the lady of the house, in which the actress implicitly defended the traditional Muslim position of women in society, and they were clear in the Q&A that it was important to them to be true to historical accuracy.  Islam now in Bosnia is interesting; and has been.  I didn’t realize that they (although many people apparently under the label consider themselves atheist), were the majority of the population in modern Bosnia. 
(Side note: Among the many things I learned, and the paradigm-shifting revelations, I found out that my name is a popular boy’s name there.)

Father Ivo: Father Ivo is a remarkable leader.  Even during the war, in hot engagements, he would try to intervene on behalf of peace and security.  He lost much over the years, but retains his love and hope for future possibilities.  He lives by principles and a level of integrity which transcend specific religious codes, and encourages others to live beyond the bounds of their labels as well.  His Pontanima Choir is well represented in the name, which looks like Soul Bridge in Latin.  I love the imagery of building bridges; there are thousands of styles and types, but they serve the purpose of making connections.

Ambassador Finci: Ambassador Finci is another leader who crosses religious lines in his work to help Bosnia.  His work with La Benevolencija to create and operate the free pharmacy during the war is nothing short of amazing, and instances such as developing the relationship with the Palestinian man at the hospital to continue the work shows the capacity for cooperation among groups “known” to be irreconcilable.  He works for the good of a country which doesn’t represent him, or others, but of which he is a valuable part.  This loyalty to the country and/or people (I wonder what he would say the loyalty is to) is admirable regardless of citizenship.

Kristina Seslija: Personally, I found Kristina to be one of the most impressive people we met.  She now works in conflict resolution, but during the war, she would have been classified with “the bad guys.”  She still lives with the ramifications of her Serbian heritage, less in her own actions, but more in the reception she receives from others.  I admire her for talking honestly about an antagonistic mindset and outlook which in my life has appeared in books, but few people have come close to acknowledging in real life.  I think that United Statesians could take more than a few pages from her book in confronting our own history.  The past is subjective in many respects, but it did happen.  We change and grow as individuals, neighborhoods, nationalities, states, but the past can’t actually be erased.  She works to improve the future by using the understanding from her past.

Kemal Pervanic: Kemal introduced us to some of the most vividly unimaginable elements of the war.  Among other experiences, he was held in a camp in his town, where one of his former teachers was a guard.  The stories he told of what neighbors, mentors, teachers, did during that time, and then how they returned to their previous lives, continues to make me wonder what humanity actually is.  Is there really good and evil?  I think there is right and wrong, but the other duality, I’m not sure.  Logic and reason vs chaos?  However, after being taken to England, he has returned to Bosnia to record and relate stories from both sides of the camps, because it is so important that these things not be forgotten.  They need to know the stories, to know what can happen if the wrong path is chosen, but at the same time have the compassion and forgiveness to live now.  It requires prodigious feats of trust, but distrust and fear do not lead to peace and prosperity.

A bookseller I chanced to talk with for some minutes in Banja Luka was very pessimistic; he has a degree in agricultural engineering, but works at a tent in the city plaza, being paid under the table, because that is more practical than agricultural engineering (which could be a valuable skill in a country which desperately needs systems with which to sustainably support itself).  He was frustrated that when tourists come, they see a beautiful, peaceful country, where he sees a lot of tension and sees that tension between the composite cultures deeping.  He reflects the fears and insecurity which many in the country learned in 1991, when “it was bad, but war just wouldn’t happen- that’s impossible” was proven tragically wrong.

We always have a choice of which path to take.

Week 1 of class, and I already have homework!

I promise, reflections on Bosnia are in the works.  In the meantime, the profe assigned us to write an entry on the conflicts we are most interested in helping transform.  It was a brainstorming piece, and I ended up doing a semi-chronological free-write, which I now share, if you've wondered why I have chosen my current path.

______

I have always loved to travel, and have wanted to see and get to know the world since I can remember.  Through life, I learned about languages and how culture can vary across a single city, across a region, across a country, before I even set foot abroad.  

Cincinnati, OH, is where I grew up.  In many respects I'm not meaningfully "from" there, but in some respects, it played a significant role in my life.  I went to a variety of schools, including a homeschool program, which were populated by varying mixes of Black and White students, ranging from my being the only non-Black kid at one school, to there only being White kids at another.  For the most part, I was young enough that it didn't really matter; we lived in a predominantly Black neighborhood at the time, and there were only a couple of other kids around- so we were friends, because the racial differences were meaningless and unimportant- we wanted to play!  Cincinnati is also on the north shore of the Ohio River, which meant that it was a significant point to reach on the Underground Railroad.  In school, we learned about slavery, and the supporting institutions, year after year, and occasionally had demonstrations like where they made 20 students stand in a small box to demonstrate how closely the Africans were packed on the ships.

When I was around 12 or so, I learned the words "ethnic cleansing" and "genocide," about of the violence in Serbia and Kosovo.  I had no idea of the significance of the final collapse of Yugoslavia, or its place in history.

In high school, I found myself repeatedly frustrated by this incomprehensible trend of people treating other people as less-than.  In the slave trade, in the Holocaust (made more personal by a close relationship with my Jewish cousins, although I am not), and then the euphamistic "cleansing" in Kosovo, and so I dove into engineering and physics, taking haven in the purity and beauty of numbers and math, formulas that could take a convoluted expression and distill it into a simple line of variables.

But, then I went to college, and among many other things, learned about the Rwandan genocide, US coverage of which was masked by the nationally enthralling O.J.Simpson trial, about many of the cultural and developmental consequences of European colonialism in Africa (and the United States, and Australia, and Asia...)  About the trends of educating indigenous children out of their culture and into Europeanism, where they would never be fully accepted.  About the Uigher people in China, who don't have a charismatic leader like the Dalai Lama to the south to bring attention and international sympathy to their support.

I joined the Peace Corps and lived in a rural town in Panama for 2 years, learning firsthand about the disparity between the urban Canal Zone, and the other (vast majority) of the country, about the deep racial lines which unofficially determine who runs which kind of store, to the point where a convenience store is called "the Chinese," and where machismo and sexism is rampant and widely accepted, as well as prevalent alcoholism in a society struggling to balance familiar values and models of how life works, with imposed technology and development, that tries to be benevolent but is tragically disconnected from the actual needs of the recipients.

I lived in Seattle, WA, where I met homeless men and women who just needed a leg up, who had mental challenges, who don't have legal residence, who are tired of the competitive rat race.  

Over time, I've met people who really believe that education is teaching others what to think, instead of how to think.  I've met people who say "but not me or mine or us," who say "yeah, that's rough," who say, "wow, their society is so backwards," who say "it isn't my/our/my country's problem," and then move on to complain about the offhand, slighting, remark their co-worker made about them, that they happened to overhear.

So, the conflict that compels me isn't specific.  It is sort of the conflict between my understanding of humanity as a glorious mess all figuring out how to move forward together, and the framework of us vs. them.  It's how a society can try to thrive, while actively undercutting part of its population, because they look/act/sound/value differently, even though the differences bring the richness.

I have about 10 assignments due in the next week, so have a blog post! (inspired by the date)

Having someone special in your life can be a magical, wonderful thing.  I don’t want to demean the importance of that One Special Person in the slightest, but I do think it is a great disservice to many other people who are special in ways beyond romantic life partnership.

In the last month, I have had friends who joyfully expanded their families through children and weddings, and had others lose people from this world’s experience.  While nominally these events, and related ones, like breakups, pairings, pet adoptions, and more, fall under these categories which I’ve been using so far in this post, each one is unique to the people involved.  If nothing else (and there is plenty else), this really illustrates how a given type of relationship can vary so very greatly from one case to the next.

Every day, life is full of choices and experiences.  In the past month, I have spent a lot of considering and reconsidering my life choices and goals, where they came from and how they’ve changed over time.  They haven’t really changed, but I am coming to understand them, and therefore myself, better.  Some things have been consistent throughout my life- the first job I remember wanting was to be a professional theatre actress, not for the stardom, but to go on world tours; for whatever reason, to my 5 or 6 year old mind, that was the surest path to travel.  Since then, I’ve gone through astronaut, president, librarian, governor of an interstellar colony, bridge designer, theatre set/costume crew, and now my plan is to bring about World Peace (and then enter and win Miss Universe, and come up with some brilliantly quippy answer about doing something trivial since I’ll already have achieved world peace). Or something like that ;-)

To the common meaning, probably in part due to this streak of travellust in my psyche, I have very rarely had “someone special” in my life, and never on Valentine’s Day; in my meaning, I disagree.  I haven’t had a significant other, a romantically special person, in a while, but I have had the great pleasure and honor of having people in my life whom I consider very special.  There are a handful of people for whom I would do anything I can, and who would do likewise for me.  There are those who I can talk to about anything, and those I can talk to about nothing- equally important, as one of you once pointed out.  There are those who help me where I need it, and whom I am here for as well- there are few things which make me happier than to see these individuals happy. (The only things I can think of are one or two truly exceptional dances, and one particular time on a catamaran at sunset in Barbados).  I am unspeakably grateful for these individuals in my life.

To close, what I think of Valentine’s Day.  Despite not having (or being) a romantic Valentine on the day, I have never felt excluded.  I love to see the love pouring in so many directions.  Over time, I’ve celebrated Gal-entine’s, and Pal-entine’s, and probably other versions of anti-Valentine’s Days, but in Panama, I finally found the holiday which I had actually been unknowingly celebrating for years, and it is best wishes for this day that I send you-
Feliz Dia de Amor y Amistad- Happy Day of Love and Friendship!

America, you're breaking my heart. and/or Brave New World

Dear America, we've both invested a lot into this relationship, and it's had its struggles (even going long-distance for a bit), but so far, we've held strong.  I don't always agree with your opinions, and you haven't always agreed with me, but like any relationship, it's a work in progress.  But now, you're scaring me.  You wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but you're getting overprotective.  I know that you're a wonderful person, and a big reason we've lasted this long is that we really do share a lot of values.  Hard work, integrity, respect.  But you've gotten some new friends who are kinda bad influences.  You think that you're strong, and can stand against anyone, and sure, you can pretty much take anyone in a fight, but you've let your guard down in other areas.  You've been getting your news from pretty one-sided sources lately, and I think you're losing sight of the bigger picture, and who you are.  I remember when some other guys took a couple swings at you in the dark, and they broke your nose.  It was horrible, and I never want to see you looking like that again!  You said you were in a bad part of town, and you figured you knew who it was, and you wanted to take revenge.  You went charging around the neighborhood trying to roust out the guys who hit you, but mostly ended up making a lot of noise and scaring the other folks.  You got some of the guys, including the one who said he broke your nose, but while you were looking for them, their buddies came out to see what the ruckus was about, and they saw their families' trashed homes.  And now you're feuding with them, and have been for a while.  You're worried about my safety, but you've set so many rules for me that its getting harder for me to live my life.  My friends, and our mutual friends, have been kinda backing away too, and I've been feeling lonely.  I'd like to talk to you, like we used to, but you're always so preoccupied.  If it isn't the feud, then it's money problems, and that ongoing argument with the neighbors over the utilities.  You're still here, but not really present.  I miss you, the way you were.  We used to be able to talk about anything, now you tell me not to worry, that you'll take care of everything, but it's getting harder and harder for me to believe you.  We both have a lot of growing up do to, but I was really looking forward to doing it together.  You have so much potential, you have so much to offer the world.  Please, step back and look at what you're doing to yourself.  I love you.


That part came out when I started to type.  Now for the angry part of this blog post, which is what has been mulling in my mind.

Look people, I blame you for our President-Elect and the current state of "civil society."  I'm not just talking to the people who voted for him, or who voted third-party, or who didn't vote.  I'm blaming dang near everyone in this country, including myself.
The internet is great.  We can get online, find people from all over the nation, and all over the world, who think like us, talk like us, believe like us.  It is such a welcome feeling to have a place (a safe space, if you like) where we can share ideas and develop that sense of community.  But those places are bubbles, in which we can insulate ourselves from everything and everyone outside, to the point where we don't know if other people even exist in any significance.  In a way I am grateful the election worked the way it did, because it revealed how divided the country is, and how much work we have to do to be the singular United States.
If you say it's the other guy's fault, then I blame you all the more.  Trying to blame someone else is a cop out.  I couldn't care less, now, who started it.  People on all sides are behaving despicably.  Deplorable and nasty.  This isn't to say that these people are deplorable or nasty, but their behavior has been.  If you don't like how the election turned out, that's cool.  That's fine.  Voice your disappointment.  But with our system, sometimes things don't turn out the way you want them to.  Suck it up and try harder next time.  Don't turn into a violent mob.  On the other side, if you do like how the election turned out, win generously.  Understand that a the other guys are really hurting, and don't stand by and pretend that the spurt of homophobia, racism, and xenophobia isn't happening, because it definitely is.

There has been a lot of misinformation spread around, and frankly, it's hard for me to point out all of the examples, because I get my news from generally the same places you do.  But I've heard about enough things that I know factually aren't true to easily infer that there are a great many more false ideas floating around.  The communities we build on the internet, our facebook/twitter/instagram/tumblr/pinterest/i-don't-even-know friend groups allow us to preach to the choir, and hear the other members of the choir step up and preach back (which is probably what I'm doing with this very blog post), while believing we have a much wider audience than we actually do.  Or we know the limits and embrace the bubble.
If you want to get a third party candidate elected, get your candidates elected, get your policies passed, you've got to actually connect with the other people involved.  If you want to live in an inclusive society, you've got to include people, and not just the ones who agree with you.

These days, it really seems like terrorism is winning.  I'm not talking about ISIS or any of those other groups.  I'm talking about a society here that is built on fear.  We aren't boldly and peacefully standing up for what is right (see the Civil Rights movement- imperfect, but darn good) with integrity and grace, we are striking back almost wildly.  TV programming is full of crime dramas, death, gritty "realistic" reboots, even our superheroes are dividing.  The commercials do their utmost to convince you that your home and health are in danger, and you need their product to be safe and healthy.  Video games set in post-apocalyptic universes or war zones contribute not necessarily by making kids violent, but by being part of the lowering of the collective consciousness of the consumers.
We are fed fear, of ISIS, fear of serial killers, fear of death, fear of dogs, fear of men, fear of abnormality, so much fear of so many things.  And yeah, a lot of them are legitimately scary, but they are sufficiently rare that they do not need to be a ruling force in your life.  Terror is a very strong emotion, and media producers have realized that emotion (more than sex?) really sells.  But you can choose not to buy it, and choose not to sell it.

From what I see lately, strength is defined as brawn, courage as having a gun.  Negotiation and moderation are weakness.  (One of these days I'll write the blogpost about the undervalued strengths of the Disney princesses which has been bouncing around in my mind for a while).  Manly men must take up arms to prove their worthiness to protect their women.  I saw a comment on facebook in which a guy bragged about his inability to control his violent inclination- I believe he was trying to say that he holds his values so deeply that his reaction to injustice would be instant, but I suspect that the knee-jerk reaction was not that different than the one that led to the incident to which he was responding.
While writing this, I started thinking about Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, and I worry that we're getting a bit too close to that "brave," of control, complacency, and conformity.

Also, a note on safe spaces.  They've been getting a bad rap in a lot of places, because they're 'places for wussy millennials to avoid reality' or something like that.  In some cases, it seems likely, since the world can be a very difficult place to live even in the best of times, and learning to deal with that is as necessary a part of the educational process as the academics.  But if you're so offended by the existence of safe spaces that you don't think are necessary, cry me a river, suck it up, and go back to your own safe space (by whatever name you call it) of like-minded people to complain.

And a few thoughts on religion.
Question: What Arabic-speaking Christians call God?
Hint: Transliterated in to English, it starts with "All" and ends with "ah"
Christians in the US, have you loved a Samaritan today?
There's a popular hymn, "Onward Christian Soldiers" which is basically an exhortation to jihad.

As always, we have choices.  So many choices.  A lot of them are easy, pretty straightforward.  Some of them seem straightforward, but require a bit more backbone.  Sometimes you make one choice, and then have to change your mind (humility is a great strength).  Sometimes you make choices for the wrong reasons (mistakes happen, you learn from them).  In the end, we make our own decisions, and our own lives.  We have to take responsibility for our successes, as well as for our mistakes.  The world is big and most of it is outside of our comfort zone, and we don't know what's coming in the future.  But we get a say in the future.  As the saying goes, if we don't change direction, we'll wind up where we're heading.

Thanks for reading! I feel better, at any rate ;-)
Pictures are from a wander I took on Theodore Roosevelt Island, in the TR Memorial itself.

Which side are you on?

When you blame all Muslims for the actions of Islamic extremists, you support ISIS.
When you advocate for more guns, you entrench the broken trust in our society.
When you wish rape on a rapist, you condone rape as valid.

Regardless of if you really mean it, the internet just carries your words, and you don’t get to choose how they’ll be interpreted, or who will hear them.

The shooter in Orlando grew up in the United States. He has lived here while it was made increasingly clear after the terrorist attacks of Sept 11, 2001 that Muslims are different, separate, violent, and unwelcome. He lived here while the Westboro Baptist Church made waves with their protests, while the entire country debated whether or not homosexual people were equally entitled to the same rights as heterosexuals. He lived here while abortion clinics and the doctors who worked there were violently attacked. He lived here through mass shootings, individual killings, extended discussions of their motivations, and thousands of people talking about the horrible things they would do or wished done to the perpetrators of these crimes.

He lived here while a lot of decent people gave voice and motion to a desire to literally take up arms to defend themselves and their values.

He said he is a follower of ISIS, but ISIS doesn’t exist alone. It was not the only influence in his life. Perhaps it filled a void left by a country which has made it clear that he’s an outsider. Perhaps he genuinely felt it’s avowed principles were right, and decided, like the shooter at the Colorado Planned Parenthood, that he could make the world a better place. Perhaps he was just an angry, unstable man with ample access to firearms.

Anger is OK. Anger is a valid emotion. Anger is not the only emotion, nor is it a wise guide, particularly when harnessed with it’s partner Fear. They are very powerful in tandem, with strong, clear voices as to what should be done, but no matter how articulately they declaim, they are not worthy leaders. Moral Courage stands against them. It pulls against the riptide that is Anger and Fear’s goal of pulling society down into mistrust. Moral Courage looks at the problem with clear eyes, even looking inward, to find solutions that are more than extensions of the original problem.

Popular opinion is against it, the media, even its own emotions, but then, that is exactly where true courage is most evident.


Whose side are you on? Anger and Fear, with their raw immediate emotion or Moral Courage, with it's coolheaded plan for an improved tomorrow?

Why I Like Train Travel (also applies to the Alaska-Washington Ferry)

I love train travel.  I get to sit back, relax, stretch out, watch movies, read, think, all while watching the gorgeous scenery that is the United States pass by.  I can talk with the train attendants, who on my Seattle-Chicago leg of travel were 2 lovely individuals who were just starting their Amtrak careers- one having 4 months' experience, and the other on her very first training ride, other passengers, who come from all sorts of different walks of life, or work on projects.

I love the diversity of people I've met on the train.  There is such an evident mix of races, genders, ages, professions, avocations, social and financial statuses.  [On a note, I've only traveled in coach, not in the sleeping cars, which are more expensive and more private, so I don't know how much of what I'm saying applies to those passengers.]  On my trips last summer and this, I talked in Spanish with a Guatemalan mother and her 2 sons in the diner car, discussed race with an interesting young woman en route to DC, made friends with a itinerant drummer, listened to one guy's stories about traveling around the parts of central Asia which have enraptured my mind for years, and met a fellow who had his possessions in a Peruvian basket and was using a fountain pen to write the most visually beautiful longhand letters I've seen.

Train travel is as communal or solitary as you want it, given the range from lounge car to sleeper.  In coach, with my sleeping bag, computer, and headphones, I could be practically alone (granted, it helps that for the most part, the seat beside me was empty).  Train travel is leisurely, flexible, and essentially communal.  For a touch of class and schedule (because there isn't much to mark the passage of time), there is the option of the dining car, where for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the attendants do their best to fill all 4 seats at each table, often bringing complete strangers together for half an hour of conversation.  It can be relaxing, in that once I'm on the train, I know that it will arrive when it will arrive regardless of my actions or wishes.  Unfortunately, due to the current state of trains and rails in this country, arriving 2 hours late is fairly reasonable, but if such delays are anticipated, they don't have to add stress.*

As much as I enjoy it, I acknowledge that Amtrak has plenty of room for improvement.  Because freight brings in the money, the freight lines own the rails and have priority over passenger rail, we have to wait for them to pass.  However, many other delays are from maintenance issues.  I've been on 2 trains on which an engine needed to be replaced, and had multiple delayed departures due to maintenance work, so maybe they could have an extra engine at main stations, and do more for their working fleet (or whatever the railroad terminology for engine collection would be)?
But, to legitimize the expenditure, people need to use the passenger service, so get on the rails, and be sure to schedule in some extra time on the end!

Getting people to use the passenger service, which I will reiterate, I consider fabulous, nearly requires a cultural shift.

Right now, the United States is all about efficiency, independence, autonomy, and privacy.  I see it in Keurig coffee makers, empty carpool lanes next to 3 lanes of stopped traffic, closed doors house doors, selfies, and headphones.  We cling to our choices and laud self-reliance, while immersing ourselves in virtual worlds populated by people who think the same ways we do, mindlessly led by charismatic leaders.  It's easier that way, but results in a divided society which considers the only acceptable "compromise" to be a complete victory.

If we talk to each other, especially those who have different ideas, we can learn about our country, and what actually makes it work.  We can develop empathy and form bonds between the myriad races, ethnicities, religions (or lack), genders, sexualities, wealth levels...all of the things which contribute to our identities.

Traveling on the train is a prime place to exercise that skill of being human- communication! (As well as, you know, taking time to enjoy life, disconnecting from our frenetic lives, sitting back, and reuniting with ourselves apart from our activities.

By communicating, we can build a common community, based on communal values which will bring actual unity to prominence, overcoming our divisions.

*Yes, there are inconvenient delays, and I spoke briefly with some passengers who refused to be anything but frustrated and angry because of them, but that happens with every other form of travel, be it foot, bicycle, car, bus, train, plane, ferry, balloon.  I arrived in Chicago over 23 hours late on my last trip- but I've been stuck in the wrong city for days waiting for a plane in winter!