In the shadow between sleeping and waking I heard myself reciting:
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay
And then I heard the voice on the scratchy recording and briefly felt myself in an uncomfortable desk --2nd one in on the front row. From that desk I transported to the Wasteland--the image I've always held:
The low brown hills.
The blood red sunset.
The hot sand.
The swirling dust devils.
The stinging in my eyes.
Begrudgingly I awoke. And peered out the window and saw my tulips shielding themselves from the snow.
April is the cruellest month.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
March Madness
Grading 86
Sleeping 38
CCCC Presentation 100
Time To Myself 18
Son's Birthday Celebrations 77
Getting Anything Else Done Around the House 12
Traveling 96
Resting 4
Carpool and Errands 63
Blog Entries 1
Sleeping 38
CCCC Presentation 100
Time To Myself 18
Son's Birthday Celebrations 77
Getting Anything Else Done Around the House 12
Traveling 96
Resting 4
Carpool and Errands 63
Blog Entries 1
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A Very Delayed Update on the 3rd Grade Declaration
As the 3rd grader tells it to me secretly, in his room, after school:
"So I finally did it Mom. At recess I told her that I had something I wanted to give her and asked her to hang around the classroom after school after everyone else left. She asked me what it was, and I told her it was a late Valentine's present, but that I couldn't bring it to the party because I didn't have a big present for everyone and that wouldn't have been fair to give her a big present and everyone else just a card, which is also why we should wait until after school when everyone is gone. She said 'ok'.
Well the problem after school was that those two troublemakers, Elliot and Aiden, had detention and had to stay in the classroom. Of all the people who could be around when was doing this, those two boneheads are the ones I would want LEAST OF ALL. But it turned out ok because they were busy cleaning desks and talking about bloody snowboarding accidents, so they didn't even notice us.
I gave her the Shakespeare book--because I know how much she loves Shakespeare--but I told her to read the card at home. And when she saw the book she blushed. She blushed a lot. That's a good thing, right? Then she hugged me and said 'thank you very much'. Then we went outside. That's it."
---------
"So it was good?" I ask.
"Yeah. It was fine. Except I still don't know why she blushed so much. What does that mean, Mom, when a girl blushes like that."
"Ummm....it means she was really surprised by such a wonderful gift. I'm sure she loves it."
------------
The day after--you know, after she had read the card--she said "thank you so much" again.
They continue to play together at recess.
Life is good.
"So I finally did it Mom. At recess I told her that I had something I wanted to give her and asked her to hang around the classroom after school after everyone else left. She asked me what it was, and I told her it was a late Valentine's present, but that I couldn't bring it to the party because I didn't have a big present for everyone and that wouldn't have been fair to give her a big present and everyone else just a card, which is also why we should wait until after school when everyone is gone. She said 'ok'.
Well the problem after school was that those two troublemakers, Elliot and Aiden, had detention and had to stay in the classroom. Of all the people who could be around when was doing this, those two boneheads are the ones I would want LEAST OF ALL. But it turned out ok because they were busy cleaning desks and talking about bloody snowboarding accidents, so they didn't even notice us.
I gave her the Shakespeare book--because I know how much she loves Shakespeare--but I told her to read the card at home. And when she saw the book she blushed. She blushed a lot. That's a good thing, right? Then she hugged me and said 'thank you very much'. Then we went outside. That's it."
---------
"So it was good?" I ask.
"Yeah. It was fine. Except I still don't know why she blushed so much. What does that mean, Mom, when a girl blushes like that."
"Ummm....it means she was really surprised by such a wonderful gift. I'm sure she loves it."
------------
The day after--you know, after she had read the card--she said "thank you so much" again.
They continue to play together at recess.
Life is good.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Declaration To Be Made Outside the Third Grade Classroom, By the Coat Hooks
Tonight after dinner, my 3rd grade son asked me to come down to his room to talk to him about something very important. After checking the hallway 4 times to make sure no one was spying on us, he closed his door and revealed the following:
He told me that Valentine's Day was coming up soon and that he needed me to take him to the store to buy something special for someone special. He told me how much money he had and asked if I thought it was enough for what he had in mind. I assured him we would be able to find something.
On the way to the book store, he talked non-stop about how nice this girl is. How pretty this girl is. How smart this girl is. How fun this girl is. How he has been spending time with her at recess. How he noticed a sticker of Shakespeare on one of her folders and asked her if she liked Shakespeare, to which she replied yes, because of which we were now going to the book store.
When we got there he asked a clerk where the "Shakespeare stuff" would be. First, we found a book of love poems. His eyes lit up in a way I'm not used to seeing in my 8 year old son. He looked closely at the book, then commented that he would hold onto it so no one else took it but that he still wanted to see the others before he decided for sure. He held the book against his chest.
Next, we found the classics collection. And then he spotted it. A leather bound, gold trimmed, complete works of Shakespeare. He asked me if "complete works" meant that it had all the love poems and all the plays in it--including "Romeo and Juliet". I told him that yes, indeed, the complete works would have all the poems and all the plays. He put down the poem book he'd been holding to his chest and picked up the beautiful complete works book. "This is it" he said, "this is the one I want to give her."
He then looked at the price tag. His face dropped for a moment. He knew he was short. WAY short. He looked up at me with his little angel face and said, "Mom. I know it's a lot, but will you cover the rest of what this book costs then just keep my allowance for however many weeks it takes for me to pay you back?"
Of course, I had already decided I would be covering the rest of the cost of this book long before he ever realized he'd need to ask that question.
I smiled and nodded and said something about vacuuming the stairs more often. He said he'd vacuum them every single day and clean anything else I wanted him to clean because getting this book was SOOOOO worth it.
When we got home, he went directly to the storage room to look for a gift bag for the book. I held one up as a suggestion. "No, mom," he said, "I want something pretty and fancy and not childish. Something like what YOU would want to get." After rejecting dozens of gift bags, he finally settled on a white one with lace on it. Quite fancy. Quite pretty. Quite grown up.
I watched him as he carefully put the book in the gift bag and surrounded it with white and blue tissue. "Who is this boy?" I wondered tenderly.
Then he asked me to come back to his room again. He showed me the card he'd been making for her. He told me that he had already spent hours on it, making it the most beautiful and perfect card he'd ever made before. The front had very intricate detailed designs in multiple colors and he had begun to do the same on the back.
"And on the inside, mom, on the inside of the card, that's where I'm going to tell her that I like her."
I almost started crying.
Instead, I asked him when he planned to give it to her. Was he going to do it at the Valentine's party at school? Did he want me to drive him to her house some afternoon?
He informed me that he had it all planned out. He would give it to her at school, in the hall, outside the classroom, by the coat hooks, when they were all alone. When it was just the two of them so that it would be a special moment. So that he could tell her that the card was ONLY FOR HER--she shouldn't even show it to her sister.
I pictured my little 3rd grade son declaring his love to this lucky little 3rd grade girl there in the hall by the coat hooks. Declaring his love with the complete works of Shakespeare; with his own artwork and the hours it took to create; with all the money he possessed; with the promise to vaccuum the stairs from this day forward.
Please little 3rd grade girl, don't break my son's heart.
He told me that Valentine's Day was coming up soon and that he needed me to take him to the store to buy something special for someone special. He told me how much money he had and asked if I thought it was enough for what he had in mind. I assured him we would be able to find something.
On the way to the book store, he talked non-stop about how nice this girl is. How pretty this girl is. How smart this girl is. How fun this girl is. How he has been spending time with her at recess. How he noticed a sticker of Shakespeare on one of her folders and asked her if she liked Shakespeare, to which she replied yes, because of which we were now going to the book store.
When we got there he asked a clerk where the "Shakespeare stuff" would be. First, we found a book of love poems. His eyes lit up in a way I'm not used to seeing in my 8 year old son. He looked closely at the book, then commented that he would hold onto it so no one else took it but that he still wanted to see the others before he decided for sure. He held the book against his chest.
Next, we found the classics collection. And then he spotted it. A leather bound, gold trimmed, complete works of Shakespeare. He asked me if "complete works" meant that it had all the love poems and all the plays in it--including "Romeo and Juliet". I told him that yes, indeed, the complete works would have all the poems and all the plays. He put down the poem book he'd been holding to his chest and picked up the beautiful complete works book. "This is it" he said, "this is the one I want to give her."
He then looked at the price tag. His face dropped for a moment. He knew he was short. WAY short. He looked up at me with his little angel face and said, "Mom. I know it's a lot, but will you cover the rest of what this book costs then just keep my allowance for however many weeks it takes for me to pay you back?"
Of course, I had already decided I would be covering the rest of the cost of this book long before he ever realized he'd need to ask that question.
I smiled and nodded and said something about vacuuming the stairs more often. He said he'd vacuum them every single day and clean anything else I wanted him to clean because getting this book was SOOOOO worth it.
When we got home, he went directly to the storage room to look for a gift bag for the book. I held one up as a suggestion. "No, mom," he said, "I want something pretty and fancy and not childish. Something like what YOU would want to get." After rejecting dozens of gift bags, he finally settled on a white one with lace on it. Quite fancy. Quite pretty. Quite grown up.
I watched him as he carefully put the book in the gift bag and surrounded it with white and blue tissue. "Who is this boy?" I wondered tenderly.
Then he asked me to come back to his room again. He showed me the card he'd been making for her. He told me that he had already spent hours on it, making it the most beautiful and perfect card he'd ever made before. The front had very intricate detailed designs in multiple colors and he had begun to do the same on the back.
"And on the inside, mom, on the inside of the card, that's where I'm going to tell her that I like her."
I almost started crying.
Instead, I asked him when he planned to give it to her. Was he going to do it at the Valentine's party at school? Did he want me to drive him to her house some afternoon?
He informed me that he had it all planned out. He would give it to her at school, in the hall, outside the classroom, by the coat hooks, when they were all alone. When it was just the two of them so that it would be a special moment. So that he could tell her that the card was ONLY FOR HER--she shouldn't even show it to her sister.
I pictured my little 3rd grade son declaring his love to this lucky little 3rd grade girl there in the hall by the coat hooks. Declaring his love with the complete works of Shakespeare; with his own artwork and the hours it took to create; with all the money he possessed; with the promise to vaccuum the stairs from this day forward.
Please little 3rd grade girl, don't break my son's heart.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Strawberry Yoga OR All the Voices in My Head
Yoga teacher: “Let’s talk about your writing assignment that is due next week.”
Voice inside my head: “Ok. We’ve been talking about this for way too long. This could have been covered in 5 minutes. It didn’t need 30. EFFICIENCY! Let’s get to the workout already!”
Other voice inside my head: “Ummmm…. I think it’s anti-yoga to be impatient during yoga. One doesn’t rush the yoga teacher. It is not the yoga way.”
-------------------
Yoga teacher: “Focus on being in the present. The past is gone. The future is not guaranteed. The present is the only time you have. The past and the future are nowhere. You need to move from nowhere to now here. Have you ever been driving somewhere and gone right past your destination because you were thinking about something past or future? That’s the kind of think I’m talking about.”
Voice inside my head: “Oh yeah. I do that all the time. I did it just the other day on my way to the faculty day thing. I flew right past Jordan campus because I was thinking about that episode of Star Trek. Which, really, has everything to do with this. It was about a disruption in the space time continuum and the alternate reality which it created. So then I started thinking about that TNG episode where Worf makes a massive split in the space time continuum and thousands of parallel universes start showing up in our own. And I wonder how many alternate realities there could be. Infinite, I’m sure. Because every single little choice sets the future in a direction and an unlimited number of options exist for each choice, each leading toward a different future reality and all branching out in exponential craziness. So certainly parallel universes must exist…..
Other voice inside my head: “Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me! I think we are exponentially far from NOW HERE.”
----------------
Yoga teacher: “Let’s start with a meditation chant that will be able to help you calm down in any situation from any negative emotion.”
Voice inside my head: “That’s a pretty big claim. Is there sufficient evidence to back that claim?”
Other voice inside my head: “I’m pretty sure yoga isn’t about argumentation.”
---------------
Yoga teacher: “Repeat after me: Ta. Sa. Na. Ma.”
Voice inside my head: “This is just like speech therapy. That’s not good. Recollections of speech therapy are NOT going to bring me to inner peace and stillness. Although, it did require a lot of self-discipline to use those annoying little syllables to rebuild my speech. And I can see the mind/body connection with the voice. But inner peace from these syllables? I think not. More like dredging up turmoil and anguish.
Other voice inside my head: “Let’s see. ‘Ta’ is an unvoiced dental. One of the easier sounds. ‘Da’, being the voiced dental is the easiest sound. ‘Na’ and ‘Ma’ are nasals. Not so easy. They come later in rebuilding speech. ‘Ga’, the voiced guttural and ‘Ka’ the unvoiced guttural, also pretty easy. They are near the beginning. ‘Pa’ and ‘Ba’ the unvoiced and voiced labials can go either way—sometimes easy sometimes hard. The breathing for those are different. Then, let’s see, the aspirates. Which is different from aspirate (long A) because that is choking from inhaling something. Which reminds me that I find these syllables exasperating. So, no. No inner peace and stillness for me from these exasperating, painful-memory-inducing syllables.
-----------------
Yoga teacher: “Let me tell you a story about living in the moment. The Buddha, in the incarnation right before he became the Buddha, fell over the edge of a cliff and was hanging on to a branch for dear life. He spotted the most perfect, beautiful strawberry. He picked it and ate it and enjoyed it completely. His whole being focused on the experience of eating the strawberry.”
Voice in my head: “I should find this story for my folklore class. It would be good to use. I wonder if our library has it. We do have that whole folklore section up in the library. I bet I could find it.”
Other voice in my head: “You’re doing it again. I don’t think you are enjoying the strawberry of this yoga class.”
Voice in my head: “Strawberry yogurt is gross. I still remember throwing up on it when I was 8. Haven’t been able to eat it ever since. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. Strawberry yogurt is vomitous.
Other voice in my head: “Stop it now. Stop thinking about vomit. Stop it now.”
Voice in my head: “SERENITY NOW! SERENITY NOW!”
Other voice in my head: “Serenity now = much better mantra than ‘ta, sa, na, ma’. But really, I’m content with my current life mantra: MUTINY!”
Voice in my head: “Oh yes. We’re accomplishing mutiny right now. Good job. FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS ALREADY!”
---------------------------
Yoga teacher: “Ok, let’s get to the work out. Put your mat this way. Stand with your legs hip width apart and breathe deeply. Arms go up with the inhale. Down with the exhale.”
Voice in my head: “Finally. Here we go. I should blog about this. I know just what to write. Too bad I can’t just think it onto my blog right now. Wouldn’t that be great if I could just think something into existence. Blog be written. Laundry be done. Gourmet dinner be on the table. Papers be graded. I could just do all these yoga poses all day long and think things into existence. Surely someday my brain will be able to link to the network and translate my thoughts into text on a page without my fingers having to do anything. Perhaps in one of those parallel universes. Perhaps an alternate reality self of mine can think through the space time continuum and transmit this power to the self of this universe.”
Other voice in my head: “Oy! Be NOW HERE. Be NOW HERE. Not in an alternate dimension. Now here.”
-----------------------------
Yoga teacher: “This pose is called the warrior.”
Voice in my head: “Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! I know this pose from Wii fit.
Other voice in my head: “I told you video games were not part of the dark side. Use the force. Use the force and focus on your yoga.”
Voice in my head: “And think blog entries into existence?”
Other voice in my head: “I think you’ve gone to the dark side of the force. Pay attention already.”
---------------------------
Yoga teacher: “Now, place both hands on the ground in this position. Both feet here. Then slide the left knee up between your hands, then roll onto your hip. Lift your chest.”
Voice in my head: “The human body can do that?”
Other voice in my head: “You have our full attention now.”
Voice inside my head: “Ok. We’ve been talking about this for way too long. This could have been covered in 5 minutes. It didn’t need 30. EFFICIENCY! Let’s get to the workout already!”
Other voice inside my head: “Ummmm…. I think it’s anti-yoga to be impatient during yoga. One doesn’t rush the yoga teacher. It is not the yoga way.”
-------------------
Yoga teacher: “Focus on being in the present. The past is gone. The future is not guaranteed. The present is the only time you have. The past and the future are nowhere. You need to move from nowhere to now here. Have you ever been driving somewhere and gone right past your destination because you were thinking about something past or future? That’s the kind of think I’m talking about.”
Voice inside my head: “Oh yeah. I do that all the time. I did it just the other day on my way to the faculty day thing. I flew right past Jordan campus because I was thinking about that episode of Star Trek. Which, really, has everything to do with this. It was about a disruption in the space time continuum and the alternate reality which it created. So then I started thinking about that TNG episode where Worf makes a massive split in the space time continuum and thousands of parallel universes start showing up in our own. And I wonder how many alternate realities there could be. Infinite, I’m sure. Because every single little choice sets the future in a direction and an unlimited number of options exist for each choice, each leading toward a different future reality and all branching out in exponential craziness. So certainly parallel universes must exist…..
Other voice inside my head: “Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me! I think we are exponentially far from NOW HERE.”
----------------
Yoga teacher: “Let’s start with a meditation chant that will be able to help you calm down in any situation from any negative emotion.”
Voice inside my head: “That’s a pretty big claim. Is there sufficient evidence to back that claim?”
Other voice inside my head: “I’m pretty sure yoga isn’t about argumentation.”
---------------
Yoga teacher: “Repeat after me: Ta. Sa. Na. Ma.”
Voice inside my head: “This is just like speech therapy. That’s not good. Recollections of speech therapy are NOT going to bring me to inner peace and stillness. Although, it did require a lot of self-discipline to use those annoying little syllables to rebuild my speech. And I can see the mind/body connection with the voice. But inner peace from these syllables? I think not. More like dredging up turmoil and anguish.
Other voice inside my head: “Let’s see. ‘Ta’ is an unvoiced dental. One of the easier sounds. ‘Da’, being the voiced dental is the easiest sound. ‘Na’ and ‘Ma’ are nasals. Not so easy. They come later in rebuilding speech. ‘Ga’, the voiced guttural and ‘Ka’ the unvoiced guttural, also pretty easy. They are near the beginning. ‘Pa’ and ‘Ba’ the unvoiced and voiced labials can go either way—sometimes easy sometimes hard. The breathing for those are different. Then, let’s see, the aspirates. Which is different from aspirate (long A) because that is choking from inhaling something. Which reminds me that I find these syllables exasperating. So, no. No inner peace and stillness for me from these exasperating, painful-memory-inducing syllables.
-----------------
Yoga teacher: “Let me tell you a story about living in the moment. The Buddha, in the incarnation right before he became the Buddha, fell over the edge of a cliff and was hanging on to a branch for dear life. He spotted the most perfect, beautiful strawberry. He picked it and ate it and enjoyed it completely. His whole being focused on the experience of eating the strawberry.”
Voice in my head: “I should find this story for my folklore class. It would be good to use. I wonder if our library has it. We do have that whole folklore section up in the library. I bet I could find it.”
Other voice in my head: “You’re doing it again. I don’t think you are enjoying the strawberry of this yoga class.”
Voice in my head: “Strawberry yogurt is gross. I still remember throwing up on it when I was 8. Haven’t been able to eat it ever since. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. Strawberry yogurt is vomitous.
Other voice in my head: “Stop it now. Stop thinking about vomit. Stop it now.”
Voice in my head: “SERENITY NOW! SERENITY NOW!”
Other voice in my head: “Serenity now = much better mantra than ‘ta, sa, na, ma’. But really, I’m content with my current life mantra: MUTINY!”
Voice in my head: “Oh yes. We’re accomplishing mutiny right now. Good job. FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS ALREADY!”
---------------------------
Yoga teacher: “Ok, let’s get to the work out. Put your mat this way. Stand with your legs hip width apart and breathe deeply. Arms go up with the inhale. Down with the exhale.”
Voice in my head: “Finally. Here we go. I should blog about this. I know just what to write. Too bad I can’t just think it onto my blog right now. Wouldn’t that be great if I could just think something into existence. Blog be written. Laundry be done. Gourmet dinner be on the table. Papers be graded. I could just do all these yoga poses all day long and think things into existence. Surely someday my brain will be able to link to the network and translate my thoughts into text on a page without my fingers having to do anything. Perhaps in one of those parallel universes. Perhaps an alternate reality self of mine can think through the space time continuum and transmit this power to the self of this universe.”
Other voice in my head: “Oy! Be NOW HERE. Be NOW HERE. Not in an alternate dimension. Now here.”
-----------------------------
Yoga teacher: “This pose is called the warrior.”
Voice in my head: “Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! I know this pose from Wii fit.
Other voice in my head: “I told you video games were not part of the dark side. Use the force. Use the force and focus on your yoga.”
Voice in my head: “And think blog entries into existence?”
Other voice in my head: “I think you’ve gone to the dark side of the force. Pay attention already.”
---------------------------
Yoga teacher: “Now, place both hands on the ground in this position. Both feet here. Then slide the left knee up between your hands, then roll onto your hip. Lift your chest.”
Voice in my head: “The human body can do that?”
Other voice in my head: “You have our full attention now.”
Thursday, December 31, 2009
New Year's More-Solutions
In 2010 I shall:
- Get more sleep.
- Claim more play time.
- Score more points on Guitar Hero.
- Eat more chocolate. (Yes, I said EAT MORE--not less--MORE)
- Laugh more.
- See more movies in the theater. (So.....that would mean at least 4)
- Do more hiking.
- Try more activities. (Such as yoga, zumba, kick boxing, crossfit, belly dancing)
- Read more books.
- Write more words.
- Play more music.
- Spend more time in the sun.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
What Are We Thinking? The First of Many Rants
A woman clings to her window seat.
2.5 billion people do not have clean drinking water. (Worldwide, waterborne illness is the leading cause of death among children.)
A nation obsesses over the sex life of a golfer.
An entire continent is ravaged by war, poverty, hunger, and illness.
Hollywood spends millions on an awards ceremony--and keeps creating MORE awards ceremonies. (BTW, where are the awards ceremonies for parents? Teachers? Medical professionals? Social workers?)
$60 will feed, clothe, house, and educate a child in Viet Nam for an entire year.
Mary Pipher writes about how our global cultural can make us more apathetic because the needs seem both so far away and so overwhelmingly huge at the same time. She contrasts this to a community culture, where the needs a person is aware of are both close and usually manageable. She argues that being more aware of more of the world and its needs actually makes us less involved because it's too big and too distant. Our minds and bodies literally do not know how to reconcile the desire to act with the inability to do so; the defense mechanism becomes to shut down, to withdraw, to develop tunnel vision. And so we give more news coverage to an adulterous athlete than we do to genocide.
I do not claim to have any answers. I do know that I am learning to take my global citizenship very seriously. Does it matter that I purchased Christmas presents from Amnesty International this year instead of Target? Does it matter that I recycle? Does it matter that I think more carefully now about where I spend my money and my time? Does it matter what I write? Does it matter what I teach my children? Does it matter that I vote? After all, I am only 1 of 6,000,000,000. It is easy to feel insignificant and thus to act insignificantly. It is easy to feel powerless and thus to act apathetically. Do my choices make any difference? I do not know if they do. But I DO KNOW that if I choose not to think about my global citizenship, then certainly my choices and actions do not make any difference at all.
Or maybe that's not true either. Not thinking about something is a choice in and of itself and has its own consequences--makes its own kind of difference. Maybe what it boils down to is that I can only be at peace with myself if I take my global citizenship seriously. The alternative is no longer acceptable to me.
2.5 billion people do not have clean drinking water. (Worldwide, waterborne illness is the leading cause of death among children.)
A nation obsesses over the sex life of a golfer.
An entire continent is ravaged by war, poverty, hunger, and illness.
Hollywood spends millions on an awards ceremony--and keeps creating MORE awards ceremonies. (BTW, where are the awards ceremonies for parents? Teachers? Medical professionals? Social workers?)
$60 will feed, clothe, house, and educate a child in Viet Nam for an entire year.
Mary Pipher writes about how our global cultural can make us more apathetic because the needs seem both so far away and so overwhelmingly huge at the same time. She contrasts this to a community culture, where the needs a person is aware of are both close and usually manageable. She argues that being more aware of more of the world and its needs actually makes us less involved because it's too big and too distant. Our minds and bodies literally do not know how to reconcile the desire to act with the inability to do so; the defense mechanism becomes to shut down, to withdraw, to develop tunnel vision. And so we give more news coverage to an adulterous athlete than we do to genocide.
I do not claim to have any answers. I do know that I am learning to take my global citizenship very seriously. Does it matter that I purchased Christmas presents from Amnesty International this year instead of Target? Does it matter that I recycle? Does it matter that I think more carefully now about where I spend my money and my time? Does it matter what I write? Does it matter what I teach my children? Does it matter that I vote? After all, I am only 1 of 6,000,000,000. It is easy to feel insignificant and thus to act insignificantly. It is easy to feel powerless and thus to act apathetically. Do my choices make any difference? I do not know if they do. But I DO KNOW that if I choose not to think about my global citizenship, then certainly my choices and actions do not make any difference at all.
Or maybe that's not true either. Not thinking about something is a choice in and of itself and has its own consequences--makes its own kind of difference. Maybe what it boils down to is that I can only be at peace with myself if I take my global citizenship seriously. The alternative is no longer acceptable to me.
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