buried treasure

I know I promised a map when I finally went in and back-posted...but, well, the reason I back-post is that I am sharing many emotions that are scary for me... so, I am not keeping that promise.

This is your hint that there are and will be some back posting ... dig and you will find

your treasure map comes with only this hint:
this lady of leisure has been on some bumpy rides since she joined the ranks of the happily unemployed living on a shoe-string

Stray and Meandering Thoughts/Feelings

Relief -- yesterday, I took the GRE. It took nearly all day to realize what it meant for it to be done: no more days full of studying math or finding ways to avoid studying math.

Stress -- it took me half the day to realize that I didn't need to plan anymore weeks or days of study. It took me half the day to realize that my scores were plenty good. That exceeding the goal you set for yourself was indeed not only good enough, rather it was better. Oh, and my stomach stopped complaining.

Remembering

There are many things in my life for which I have to be thankful. Today, though, my heart and mind are full of my Tia Jenny. I am thankful that she will not have one more painful minute. You see, she lost her battle with cancer last week.

I am thankful for a family that still believes in giving their parents the care, love and attention they were given. My cousins took turns over the past few years, staying with my Tia Jenny night and day. The pain and frustration of seeing their mother battle in agony is unimaginable, but they never wavered. It is a rare and special gift to even see that kind of dedication anymore. You can only imagine the love and care she gave her children by what is reflected back with this act.

I am forever grateful to my Tia Jenny for keeping track of all of our families. She was the family tree builder in many ways. Not only was she always trying to ferret out more information about her grandfather (my great-grandfather), she was forever bringing new generations and lost cousins into the fold. Her love of family and connections is incomparable in my mind to anyone else.

I have been filled with thoughts of her for several weeks after my mom described her last visit with her. It was too much for me to go and see her, again, in so much pain. I lack the strength her daughters have shown so faithfully. I said to myself, I will be there for her funeral, to see her in peace. But, unfortunately, I am not able to get down there on that day. It makes the mourning more difficult to be far away.

My Tia Jenny was a wonderful person who never deserved any of this horrible suffering. I am so pleased that she will not feel any more pain and I am so sad that she will no longer walk this earth with us. We are a poorer world without her and her love.

Rest in peace, Tia Jenny. I'll be home soon to visit you.

who says?

If you didn't catch the story on NPR yesterday morning on how history as it is written in history textbook has changed over time, take a moment to listen to it.

History, always presented as fact-based, like so many of the subjects students are taught in school are too often not viewed critically. It is important not only from the standpoint of the value of learning critical thinking skills. I have long believed that our children would do better to be taught skills and not "facts" or "content," but that's another post altogether.

Political views have long been part of the development of curricular tools such as textbooks. Thus, these tools must be viewed critically by both teachers and students in order to get the best out of them. But, even more importantly, the history of public education in this country is largely unknown.

We tout ourselves as the country that provides the most universal compulsory public education in the world. Well that may be true, we fail to mention that we took that step in an effort to "Americanize" immigrants who we feared would change our country too much if we didn't co-opt them. Not teach them, assimilate them. Hear that difference carefully. Public education was created to engender sheep-like mentality to droves of immigrants, at that time mostly Germanic and Nordic (not the ones we fear and hate so much now, we could really care less if they ever become "Americanized").

So, when we bemoan the fact that our children are so desperately uneducated/undereducated and can't achieve well on tests, as has been again in the news of late, let's remember that public education was never meant to educate. It puts the school boards in Pennsylvania and Kansas in a slightly different perspective. They are not as crazy as we may think. They realize and acknowledge that public school is for telling the people what you want them know and how you want them to know it. And, majority, not truth, rules.

If we want true educational reform, we need to realign our goals and think completely outside of the box in creating anew our tools, teaching methods and expectations. It will take bold changes that reflect a respect for investigation, critical thinking, exposition and meaningful exchange at a very early age and throughout the educational pipeline. That kind of educational reform won't be measured by tests where you mark the appropriate bubble. But the changes would be dramatic, and, incidentally, exactly what we need if we want to avoid the fall of the Roman Empire syndrome (another interesting story you might want to listen to from NPR this week).

A Million Bucks

Not truly sure why these thoughts have been rolling around my head; maybe just because I have time to consider life at a slower pace.

I probably could name that which is most important to me; that is, what I care about, but lately, it comes to me more in the form of things that don't matter to me.

If I had a million bucks, I would still not buy clothing at full price, though I might buy a pair of full price comfy shoes.

I would definitely not invest in make up or cosmetic surgery. And though I have been known to say that I don't color my hair because it's too much trouble and money to maintain, I don't believe I would color my hair even if I had two million bucks.

These are things that are just of no interest to me.

That is not to say that there aren't things that I wouldn't mind having...that I wouldn't mind having disposable income for going out to dinner or as many movies as I could squeeze into my schedule, etc. I just can't see myself buying a purse that cost in the hundreds or thousands of dollars.

There are just too many more things that are of interest to me and most of them don't have anything to do with vanity.

It has got me thinking, though I am not to the point of truly drawing conclusions.

Vanity. It strikes me as a terribly negative thing. And that is not to imply that I don't care what how I look or that I don't spend time brushing my hair or buying fancy potions. But the time and intensity that so many people, some of them people who I care for and admire, scares me.

Is that it is all about? I want to ask them, but I don't want to offend.

I can only imagine what they think about me.

It is probably true that I don't care much about appearance, mine that is, because I don't think it is my defining feature. That's a fancy way to say that I don't think I am gorgeous. I may be pretty, in my own way, but beauty has never defined me. So, I have little to lose, in my own mind, if I go out with no makeup or don't color my hair.

But, my lack of interest in vanity doesn't necessarily make me deep or transcendent. It might just make me ugly or shabby or rasquache, as my mother is wont to say.

What would I buy with a million bucks?? I haven't thought about it in a long time because the dream of winning the lottery has long passed for me.

I still dream of big, beautifully shabby, old houses. Victorian, preferably. Lately, to the dream, I have added a pomegranate tree. I would like some built in bookshelves and a porch swing (technically, I already have one if it is still in my friend's basement).

I am sure there are many other things I would want to buy with my million bucks, but those are the things that come to mind at the moment.

What's Next?

Recently, a friend asked if I what I had learned during my "sabbatical" so far. At the moment, I thought, NOTHING! Seeing as how three months into this time off, I feel no more closer to knowing what I want to do with my life than I did before I quit my job, and I still don't really know how to enjoy free time effectively. I mean, I am good at finding things to do. I am still a planner, despite my best efforts to be carefree. But, I am not really good at doing nothing. Though, I am getting better.

I determinedly searched my mind for something to say. I figured I had to have something to say for these months. I admitted to knowing some of what I didn't want to do. I could point to the fact that I enjoy the simple life I am living and would happily continue with this spartan existence if I knew it meant I could dabble in many things and have free time. I struggle to imagine where I want to be in one year much less five years. This made me feel wholly unaccomplished in my efforts to figure out life. But, then, I remembered that the one thing I definitely took away from my retreat was the fact that I don't need to make any decisions about the "rest of my life." I can make decisions for today and tomorrow and next week and one year and only if I want to, for more than that.

Life is not meant to be figured out. It is meant to be lived.

So, it turns out, I have learned a fair amount.

Having time to work things out, jumble them back together and then untangle them again is useful.

I used to make great snap decisions... they appeared so sound, so cogent, no one ever argued with me. [Maybe they don't care enough to argue.] But those decisions were not always the best decisions.

Life is more complicated and simpler than all that.

I have been privy to a lot of very interesting debates going on in my head. They have not come to any decisions; neither have I.

For now, continue to explore my options, though somewhat more concretely, by applying for jobs...all jobs that I have never done before. I can hold on to the sure things for another little while...

things you can't fix with glue

hearts

faith

trust

no kind of glue can bring back together things that are shattered into tiny pieces...

it's ok

build new

trying to make old, broken, tattered, shattered or bruised into shiny and new doesn't work

you have to build new

not re-build

it's dangerous to recycle materials
keep the memories
throw out the degraded pieces

build new

the battle rages

It's only a matter of time before I will be an expert at complicated East African languages and, yet, still not be able to do 8th grade math as presented by ETS.
I invited a group of four folks to join me on the couch at Starbucks tonight...they didn't want to disturb me. But I assured them it was NO problem. I wasn't sure how to break it to them that if they gabbed on in a language I didn't know it was just like listening to classical music to me. As long as I can stand to feel safe, I just hear it as the calming melody that keeps me trudging through the problems.As soon as the fear that is mathophobia (I'm sure there is a technical term but my obsession has not deepened to the point that I need to know it now) grips me, I turn my attention more to the conversation that I can't understand than to the numbers, letters and gibberish trying to pass itself of as English in my book. I imagine that I am catching phrases here and there, building an internal vocabulary list. I believe that I can make out parts of words and begin to build complicated language maps in my mind...how is this related to French, Spanish or Italian, maybe ancient Greek? I start to convince myself that I really need to listen to the conversation more carefully and stare less intensely at the garbled mess on my paper.
When the young man asked me what I was studying this evening, he couldn't help himself...the craziness in my book was as appealing to him as his unknown language was to me, I showed him the book and asked him what language they were speaking. After two tries, I still can only say that it is some East African language with hints of Hebrew (his explanation not my crazy musings I assure you). I had to admit I was pretty sure I would be learning to speak his language soon as the math thing really wasn't going well. He allowed as the book reminded him of painful college days.Our conversation made his pregnant wife uncomfortable...so I returned to my terrible book of torture called GRE review.

But it really is only a matter of time...thankfully, the course ends November 16th and I must take the damn test very soon afterwards.

Unconventional M&M's

Not feeling terribly well, physically, I turned off the alarm clock and slept until I couldn't anymore. I highly recommend this strategy if you don't feel well and can swing it.

I turned on the tv and was confronted with Martha Stewart making margaritas with Mo'Nique. I was startled and intrigued, so I kept watching. My favorite part was when Mo'Nique told Martha that the crucial step in making Strawberry Margaritas was to take a shot of Jose Cuervo (Mo'Nique's tequila of choice) ala tasting your soup for salt. Martha picked up the bottle and took a swig. Martha and Mo'Nique. Priceless.

Other unusual M&M's

My favorite, of course, was the story about the man on death row making art with pigment he leaches from M&Ms.

Another bunch of unconventional M&M's are the dark chocolate candies. I haven't worked up the courage to order personalized M&M's, but I have been trying to imagine who is the person I know that most needs personalized M&M's. As soon as I figure it out, I am definitely going to order them!

Don't push me 'cuz I'm close to the edge

I'm trying not to lose my head...

Imagine that song running through your head endlessly.

I don't own an I-POD or any other mp3 playing device, my cd player stays in the car and rarely is in use, so I can't blame my own playlist.

I listen to the radio, usually NPR, and otherwise, I flip the stations til I find something amenable, but only in the car.

I know it came from somewhere inside me and how I am feeling because I haven't actually heard the song on the radio, just in my head.

I like to try to trace back emotionally when I have a recurrent song or thought; it's like getting inside the supposed randomized playlist where you can SEE how the next song is chosen. It's a game to see if I can figure out where and how the song popped into my mind.

All I know for sure was that as I walked to my study hall, aka Starbucks, I kept hearing a menacing voice singing:

Don't push me 'cuz I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head

Here's a sample (thanks, wikipedia; it will only work if you have JAVA enabled)...of course, I was only hearing the chorus.

Apparently, I am not the only one whose mind has lingered over these lyrics. And, some are both musing over the meaning of the lyrics as well as exhorting others to muse as well:

What does Grandmaster Flash mean by
Don't push me 'cuz I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head?
What is he possibly referring to?

There is plenty more out there...folks analyzing the lyrics, the statement on poverty in the US, black folks lives and expressions of frustration in general.

For me, at least, the chorus is more about determination and resilience than it is about frustration. Yes, times may be hard, and it may feel like people and systems are working against you; maybe you can't catch a break or maybe you born under the sign of murphy's law, but no matter what hardships, troubles, complications or annoyances...
YOU are the master of your own destiny.

That's what I heard. That's how I am using these words:

Don't push me 'cuz I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head

So, WATCH OUT.

A thought for the day

Several weeks ago, my DailyOM sent me this message:

Your personal power is defined in part by your gifts. To use your talents is to demonstrate to the world that you understand yourself and are truly attuned to your capabilities. Your earthly existence provides you with ample opportunity to explore your purpose, to utilize your skills in a life-affirming way, and to positively touch the lives of others while doing so.

I have been ignoring it, though not directly: I didn't read it til this morning.

I am trying to get it...see what it means...live it.

Silence

Learn to be silent...
Let your quiet mind listen
and absorb...
-Pythagorus

I have been spending more time than I would like with Pythagorus and his theories. But, this weekend, I put one of his quotes to use.

My instinct is to talk when there is silence. I don't know if this is something that has always been or just something I picked up more recently.

In any case, it is interesting to listen to the words I would say and not say them.

I can't tell if it is making me second guess myself more or less. I know it feels weirdly uncomfortable. I feel like I have a hand tied behind my back.

I think practicing silence over a longer period of time will help me to listen better. For now, it is taking all my energy to not speak and deal with the fallout.

Rockstar

Today I heard THE most inspiring talk I have EVER heard. In fact, the first person I have ever seen that spoke with such authority about the things that most of us hide. If only we were all willing to be so open about the things that inspire us to be both fearless and fearful.

Watching Akeela the Bee, I was struck, again by the quote from Marianne Williamson. This is a book about LOVE, particularly about getting inside of self-love and understanding how to project it back out to the world. I share it as a way to remind myself about what's really important.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?
-Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles

judge for yourself

I haven't ranted about politics in a few days, so here I go....

I am just concerned that there are folks out there who are skimming over some important news items.

Just in time for elections, the Bush administration has decided that teachers' votes can be bought. That's right. After years of being accused of not fully funding NCLB, the Bushies have decided that in order to remedy that situation, they should give perks. And guess where the first perks went? OHIO. Coincidence or pay back?? You be the judge.

More on the educational front. Oh... hold on to your seats.

So, one of the by products of NCLB is what is called, SES, or supplementary educational services. This is usually in the form of after school tutoring paid for by the school district through funds from the federal government. How does it work? Who benefits? And who are the providers...well, in a nutshell, schools that receive federal funds, called Title I, whose students have not met the minimum achievement standards for more than two years in a row. Those schools are labeled "school improvement" and then a year ... as in how many years have they not been achieving the standard.

Well, these schools are required to offer after school tutoring...but it must be given by approved providers. These are folks like Sylvan and Kaplan, and many others who have figured out that this is a super cushy way of making loads of cash without having to supply many results. There are lots of other not optimal things about this ... but this expose article done by the LA Times has got to be the worst.

Please read it.

Basically, Neil Bush (yes, you guessed it, George's bro) started a little company called Ignite! Learning, that is an SES that has sold quite a few COWs (Curriculum on Wheels, that's their acronym, in case you were wondering) to many school districts for a tidy sum.

But it gets worse. Guess the names of two investors? Nope, you'll never guess in a million years.

George H. Bush and Barbara Bush.

No, that's not all... Barbara "donated" money in the name of the Katrina survivors with the caveat that the money be used to purchase COWs. As an investor, ie interested party, it hardly seems like it's really a cash donation as you will just be getting the money back.

Oh, and that isn't where the shamefulness ends on this...she and her esteemed, or is it infamous, son (yup, that's the one with the special touch with S&L's) go around "fundraising" for school districts so that said districts can buy more COWs. You can bet the Bushes aren't giving away any milk; you got to buy the COW.

But wait, there's more. This is beginning to sound a little bit like a Michael Moore movie, but I swear, this is all in the article.

Well, what's more is there? you ask; well read this snippet if you haven't gotten to the whole article:

At least 13 U.S. school districts have used federal funds available through the president's signature education reform, the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001, to buy Ignite's portable learning centers at $3,800 apiece.

The law provides federal funds to help school districts better serve disadvantaged students and improve their performance, especially in reading and math.

But Ignite does not offer reading instruction, and its math program will not be available until next year.

(you guessed it, I added the emphasis.)

So, districts are using their NCLB SES money to buy Ignite! COWs even though the COWs don't offer the type of instruction stipulated for SES funds. These COWs are bought often without going through a bidding process like most school expenditures. But, there is still more to know about this story.

George's little bro has a lot of friends with money who helped him get this little venture off the ground, all upstanding individuals and companies, I am sure:

Bush's parents joined Neil as Ignite investors in 1999, according to U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission documents. By 2003, the records show, Neil Bush had raised about $23 million from more than a dozen outside investors, including Mohammed Al Saddah, the head of a Kuwaiti company, and Winston Wong, the head of a Chinese computer firm.

Most recently he signed up Russian fugitive business tycoon Boris A. Berezovsky and Berezovsky's partner Badri Patarkatsishvili.

Neil's response to this inquiry by the LA Times was to accuse the journalist and the newspaper of playing politics just before the election. Like I said, you be the judge.

I love mashed potatoes

Trying to cram various part-time jobs and three weeks of studying for the GRE into three days has made me really hungry. Worse than that...since studying for the GRE is such a drag (as one friend commented, YUCK), it provokes a lot of self-pity which leads to the need for antojos.

Yesterday, as I passed by stores and restaurants on my way to studyhall (otherwise known as Starbucks), I had to stop and read each menu. I was in a desperate hunt for mashed potatoes...and trying to stay away from the donut shop. Everyone know that donuts are an excellent substitute for mashed potatoes, or accompaniment, if necessary.

I love mashed potatoes.

I think they make the perfect compliment to ANY meal. I love BREAD with mashed potatoes on top. It's carb-comfort-food heaven.

Some of my favorite pairings:
mashed potatoes and a good salad (salad counteracts all bad carbs in the potatoes, hahahah) and BREAD, of course

mashed potatoes and bread, and then some more bread; only add gravy if mom made it, otherwise, use butter, lots of it.

mashed potatoes and STEAK and bread...in a pinch, you could substitute chicken, but only if you are feeling SUPER virtuous. I mean, what's the point if you have gone all the way with the mashed potatoes??

I used to be willing to have mashed potatoes from a box; you know, it is like emergency comfort food waiting in the cupboard and available at any time of the day. But, since I live just a few yards from a grocery store, emergency mashed potatoes are not really necessary (and probably too dangerous any way).

Not having found any real good menus with mashed potatoes on my way to studying, I decided to MAKE MY OWN. Thanks to a good friend from NJ, I know the secret to the BEST mashed potatoes ever: heavy cream (you know the one that you use to make WHIPPED CREAM!). No cream is so thick and fabulous...and therefore, there really is no substitute. Cut up garlic and onions sauteed with the cream and BUTTER; nope, not enough fat in the whipping cream, must add more, for the flavor, you know. Add the potatoes when cooked (cook with onions and garlic if available) and mash-em-up.

Honestly, nothing better.

After a long discussion with the helpful man at the meat counter, I decided on a super thin sirloin steak. He was voting for the filet minon or the new york strip steak, but agreed that on my budget I could make the sirloin work. He made me promise I would use olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic when I cooked it.

It was wonderful.
Just what I wanted.

Support Free Mammograms...

click on the title of this post...
we need to go here every day in order to get these mammograms funded!

Please tell ten friends to tell ten today! The Breast Cancer site is having trouble getting enough people to click on their site daily to meet their quota of donating at least one free mammogram a day to an underprivileged woman. It takes less than a minute to go to their site and click on "donating a mammogram" for free (pink window in the middle). This doesn't cost you a thing. Their corporate sponsors/advertisers use the number of daily visits to donate mammogram in exchange for advertising. Here's the web site! Pass it along to people you know. http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/

it's all fun and games until...

My favorite game in the world is making up stories about people I don't know. It is the corollary to people watching. My multitasking (read ADD) mind cannot stand to just watch people, and I am easily bored. So, whenever I am out, I am usually scanning the crowd for a good story starter.

Crowded restaurants are great places for this game as you are a captive audience for the duration. Though, it is not impossible to make up quick stories of people who are walking by you in a mall or on the street. The odd bit of conversation that hangs in the air as you pass someone (or as he/she passes you) makes the whole story process move along all that more swiftly. The purist may believe that this is cheating, but I think of it as a different level of challenge.

Sitting in Starbucks, reading or studying or just getting out in the world, one is privvy to many interesting bits of conversation. I have to say, though, that Starbucks is a slightly more dangerous place for this kind of game.

I am generally at the Starbucks alone. Somehow, the concept of background music has eluded the folks who work at Starbucks. Or, for all I know, the corporate management of Starbucks. That is to say that the music is always louder than background music should be. That means that people need to speak more loudly to their companions. So, it's not just the general flotsam you hear on the street; sometimes it is full blown conversation, the kind that should end up in some novel, out of context, of course. I "hear" better when I am looking at the originator of the speech. I worry that I will get caught looking at my story prey.

One of these days, I may share some of the bits of conversation and/or some of the stories I made up to go along with them.

hiding

and other self-sabotage tools...

hide, deflect, and ultimately make it worse.

will I never learn????????

to quote myself: the important thing is to recognize it -- name it and look at it from a more objective space, and hopefully recognize it as an emotion that wants to erupt into action

next time, maybe I'll do better

maybe, maybe not

hopefully either way, I will be gentle with myself

hard work or the revolving door

it turns out that it is not enough to break old agreements and make new ones...or that the act or creating new agreements is quick and final. agreements can only be made by actually practicing them. like so many other parts of life, my life, it's a process

first I had to recognize that the old agreements really weren't working for me
[who knew one could need so much confirmation??]
part one - complete

but I wasn't truly prepared for part 2

breaking agreements means not allowing yourself or others to operate under the old agreements

yikes
yup

it's empowering, in its own way, to see/feel/realize when you are about to fall into a bad, old trap, and then you don't
it felt uncomfortable but not untenable

it took a while to understand that not going down into the well of despair, not claiming the bad agreement [the familiar reaction] as further proof of my lack of worth, was part of breaking the agreement

you have to LIVE it

imagine that!?!

it was hard and painful and I don't really know where to go from here...but I am celebrating/recognizing/living this new agreement... I will not automatically look for a reason why I am at fault. I will not automatically believe that any difficult situation/interaction is the result of my lack of worth

that's not who I am

that's not who I ever was; I don't agree to pretend to be her to make anyone feel better

I am worthy; I am a good person; I have many gifts and talents as well as faults and foibles; I am not new but improved

you may not recognize me or only see someone who I don't claim anymore

that's part three and it's an unfinished chapter

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the lesson, in case you didn't figure it out:
it's not going to get easier
you just learn to be "skillful"

WWJRD??

WWJRD? = What would Jesus really do?

For reasons that I cannot really pinpoint, I was reduced to tears listening to the Dixie Chicks sing about forgiving and forgetting today. [I have been thinking about ways to support these gals even though I am not a country/western or whatever it is called fan.] The emotional process involved in forgiving or getting over and then forgetting enough to move on have been weighing heavily on my mind.

So, what does Jesus have to do with it? I have been carrying around this grief and pain for a little while. Why can't we (as in the world, people in general) be more forgiving? Why can I be more forgiving -- get over it, not want to get back, move on?

Here's what reminded me (this month) to struggle with this bit of human frailty:

This, the Amish said, showing us the tender face of religion at a time and in a world where we are so often seeing the rageful face. This was Jesus' way, and they had Jesus in them, not for a day, an hour, not just in good times, but even in the very worst. (emphasis added)

We aren't Jesus (at least as we know him in mythology). We are normal human beings. We feel rage and anger; we want vengeance. We want ours. We have things to learn from what we believe about Jesus. And then there are those who practice what they believe, as reminded above, everyday, even under the most painful and difficult circumstances.

The freedom contained in Jesus' teaching of forgiveness, wrote the German philosopher Hannah Arendt, is the freedom from vengeance, which includes both doer and sufferer in the relentless automatism of the action process, which by itself need never come to an end.
...
To this, the Amish have offered a stunning example of the freedom that comes with forgiveness, a reminder that religion need not turn lethal or combative. I, for one, as this week ends, stand in awe of their almost-unfathomable grace in grief.

It is from an essay by Anne Taylor Fleming from Newshour.

I have listened to Anne Taylor Fleming reading this essay over and over...trying to wring out the part that I can hold on to, that which one could touch if it were tangible material. All I can say is, no matter what anyone's personal spiritual belief may be, we have religion and spirituality to help us humans deal with our contradictions. It is a contradiction to have such vile instincts and at the same time a (sometimes?) logical brain. We have emotions and we are capable of knowing right from wrong. This is hard. There are so many times our logical/rational minds tell us to do things that seem more emotional and instinctual. These are minefields. We are lucky to come through most days unscathed.

Religion, with its rules and regulations, can help to put order in the chaos of contradictory thoughts, feelings, associations. But it can become dangerous when we give up our logic/rationality, when we make religious belief into instinct...especially when those religious beliefs have been molded into daggers. Here the Amish come, for all their imperfect ways of dealing with the modern world, and show us that you can use your religious beliefs as instincts and have it not be predatory. Imagine that.

I'm still not signing up for any organized religion. I am still wary of the reverential treatment of people and gods. But I am embracing my need for answers and comfort, and still trying to find the safe harbor in my mind or soul, wherever it is.

It's comforting, in a way, to know that such horror and destruction as the shooting in an Amish school house could bring us a little tiny bit of enlightenment, or at least a glimpse of the beauty of the human spirit. In these dark days, with so much anger, animosity and posturing, this little light is a welcome reprieve. In case you want more on the Amish and their view of forgiveness, I recommend Scott Simon's thoughts, an OpEd from the Philly Inquirer, and Talk of the Nation's bit on the Amish Culture of Forgiveness.