Tag Archives: analysis

Quitcherbitchin, My Fellow Liberals, and Confirm Judge Roberts

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This wild-eyed lefty blogger thinks we have the best Supreme Court nominee the American public could deserve or expect, considering the President we elected twice.

 

The best outcome anyone can hope for given any Supreme Court vacancy is a nominee who is educationally and experientially well-prepared to consider complex constitutional issues, and who has shown himself a person of excellent judgment and character. To all appearances, Judge Roberts will be a thoughtful constitutional judge.

 

All the current hand-wringing, posturing, and outrage by Democrats is, I suppose, somehow useful or necessary to future fights, but we can hardly be surprised that a conservative president has selected a conservative nominee. In an unbroken American political tradition, presidents have always nominated candidates who share their political leanings. I mean, duh.

 

I’m grateful that Mr. Bush took someone’s very good advice concerning his huge responsibility to select a nominee who might make thoughtful decisions over a long period, who might strongly influence or even lead the court, and who has the capacity to deeply impact the country, albeit for good or ill. I’m also grateful that Mr. Bush did not select some fringey right-wing extremist type (we don’t need any more of those on the court. Or any more justices of dubious credentials, experience, or reputation.)

 

A woman or an ethnic minority would have been nice, all things being equal, but I saw no conservative ethnic or female nominee with equivalent qualifications.

 

Supreme Court justices are always a crapshoot anyway. Indeed, if this guy goes south on us and completely forgets that the job of a judge is to weigh all sides of an argument fairly, I’ll sadly chew very tough crow. Indeed, Roberts may make a terrible justice; one can never know. All such predictions are mere risk-calculation and glorified guesswork. Left-leaning justices sometimes swing right, solid conservatives like O’Conner sometimes move center, and sometimes we get a justice who turns a little nutty—or nutty-er. Then it’s up to the other justices to work hard to shape, mold, rein in, or sit on the new guy or gal.

 

Roberts’ relative youth is a smart choice too. Of course we would rather the young ones with years of influence ahead were liberals. But it’s good that Roberts is generationally close to the nation’s youngish folks and thus may better relate to our rapidly changing culture and the myriad new issues being raised, and it’s good that he has a young mind which may not have stopped opening and growing.

 

Judge Roberts has apparently worked amazingly hard, has shown integrity, character, and sound judgment in every phase of his life so far (except in choosing to be a conservative, heh-heh) and he has demonstrated a capacity for independent thought. His brilliant wife (also an independent thinker deeply concerned with ethics and trained in law) can only be an asset to him. His young adopted children are also a factor in his favor, as they may humanize and keep him grounded.

 

Can Roberts relate to the common man? Does he have as-yet unrevealed weaknesses? (Every other human being has; why not he?) Will our privacy rights (which cover abortion) be threatened? Maybe. Hope not. But Roberts is the best candidate we could have expected from our system when it’s working as well as it can, given our current President.

 

The very complex, fine-line, difficult-to-weigh-and-decide, arguably this-or-that cases that come before the Supreme Court are best considered by a group of thinkers who represent the broad range of American constitutional thought, both left and right. Even I don’t want a Supreme Court packed with only liberal thinkers; I hardly have that much faith that I’m always right, and the court will never be served by hordes of knee-jerk partisan yes-men. Besides, some of my opinions are proudly rightish. 

 

Finally, I’m surprised and pleased that this nominee is apparently not an extremist, but possibly, in fact, almost main-streamish-y, sort of.

 

We could all wish for a more representative government, and we could wish for a less politically influenced and influential Supreme Court. But, given the government we have, in this particular instance, President Bush has done exactly what he’s supposed to do. For a change.

 

If we want to confirm an equally qualified, more left-leaning justice when Justice Rehnquist or whoever it is next steps down, we should support Judge Roberts’ nomination, thus earning the legislative reciprocity we’ll need when our own shiny-new president (some day soon–they're all getting old!) nominates a slew of similarly qualified liberal justices.

Against Nationalism: A New Revised Standard Version of American Allegiance

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As I pull up the tiny plastic U.S. flag (tagged “Made in China”) which my well-intentioned neighbor leaves on our front lawn every July 4th, I ponder my deep affection for America–her ideals, traditions, and achievements. This land has been home, safety, and opportunity for me and mine. I acknowledge the good will and sacrifice of patriots of every nation. And I do want to be an accepting, supportive neighbor.

 

Which is why it's so very hard to explain why I can no longer countenance nationalism and patriotism in this shiny new century. We Americans could choose to salute the amazing human achievements which have arisen in our unique context of a vast, rich new land teeming with seemingly infinite natural resources. Instead, we too often associate all that is good and proud and fine and brave about our land and history and people with a divisive sort of me-first superiority thing that insists that the people on our side of an arbitrary border are us–the more-deserving good guys in the white hats, with all the best approaches to everything–while those sub-humans on the other side of the borderline, their side, are they, them, the other–fearsome, strange-looking beings, susceptible to all kinds of dangerous differences. It's just exactly this kind of automatic us/them competitive perspective that power-hungry demagogues tap so conveniently when they want to lead aggressions.

 

At least our growing understanding of ecology has finally helped us see that birds and insects and seeds and wind and rain and sun, in fact all of nature–sans humanity of course–have the common sense to be oblivious to imaginary, arbitrary borderlines. I guess that's some progress.

 

The more closely I look at nationalism, the more of our planet’s ills I blame on it. Wars. Terrorism. Unrepresentative politics. Social injustice and gross inequities. Coldness to the plights of non-“us” humans. Environmental disasters. Global epidemics. Unfair trade policies. Prejudice. Intolerance. I could go on. You name it, nationalism hurts it. Stirring emotional associations prettify the concept of nationalism, but ultimately fail to conceal the ugly truth that its most predictable fruits are separation, fear, and hatred, along with their natural corollaries, violence and suffering.

 

Perhaps not so incidental in this so-called Christian nation is the sad reality that there is not a single Christ-like or Christ-advocated thing about nationalism/patriotism. Equally tragic is the fact that nationalism doesn't accomplish anything which couldn't be achieved far less harmfully through unfettered, internet-linked local, regional, and global organizations supporting human endeavors of all kinds, whether social, political, economic, spiritual/religious, artistic…whatever. What positive thing could nationalism possibly accomplish which a consistent allegiance to and respect for human life on this earth could not do better?

 

Nationalism is an empty rhetorical device crammed full with irrational, emotional connotations, a burning nonsense cipher comprising all our breast-swellings, gratefully blown to life by small alienated power-hungry groups capitalizing on it to quickly inflame frightened masses into exploiting, occupying, attacking, retaliating, and avenging. However painfully and slowly, we need to wean ourselves from our knee-jerk heartfelt faith in nationalism, and begin to reconsider its value and its harm to all human beings.

 

I know, I know. Some people still believe in the devil, and think that human sinfulness necessitates all the “us”-es marching furiously off into all corners of the world carrying big sticks, breaking into their houses and changing their ways of life. If someone tried to bust into my home, push around my family, hurt my neighbors and interfere with our ways, I too would fight back. Meanwhile, I’m left to wonder whether nationalism and its spawn are the evils we're so afraid of, the devil incarnate himself.

 

The very concept of “nation” is, historically speaking, a relatively new one, going back only a few centuries. Before our present age of nationalism, local and regional thugs used fear, religion, ideals, and money (as recruiters do today) to attract followers. However, in those days, the accumulation of power was blessedly limited by the mortality of such temporary leaders. Today's nationalism requires citizens to blindly and permanently transfer their loyalties, indeed their lives, over to whichever country they happen to be born into, regardless of incomprehensible and rapid changes to the integrity, responsiveness, principles, and even the intelligibility of leaders, policies, and processes.

 

On this past 4th of July, I sat out under the trees with my family, eating hot dogs and spitting watermelon seeds along with other lucky Americans. With them, I took time to express gratitude for past and present leaders and workers, and for our battered but hopefully still resilient legal, economic, social, and political traditions. And then I added thanks for the uniquely American gift from God–the richest swath of untouched land in the history of mankind–and asked for guidance and humility in using what’s left of that unimaginable wealth more wisely and generously in service to mankind.

 

I prayed that nationalism will soon be just a memory of a sad, crazy passing political phase, albeit one which, during its brief reign on earth, provided a multitude of rationalizations for aggression, greed, and barbarism, always characteristically cloaked in beautiful passionate colors–among them, our own beloved red, white, and blue.

 

This morning, I try to find a dignified way to dispose of this small flag, symbol of my ardent childhood pride, devotion, and innocence, symbol of the anguish endured under patriotic predations everywhere. Of course I want to pay my respects for yesterday’s sacrifices and values. But I am moved also these days to honor the emerging, competing value which more and more Americans and their fellow earthlings are finally recognizing as far higher and purer than nationalism/patriotism. And that is respect and support for–allegiance to–human life everywhere.

 

What I've Learned About God in My Garden

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In this season of spring, renewal and rebirth, I’ve been thinking: what have I learned about myself—and about God—from being a gardener?

 

From studying his work I’ve come to know the workman. I’ve come to better understand his garden, his creation, his creatures.

 

I’ve learned that each of God’s flowers, however imperfect, is perfect to him. God doesn’t make mistakes; he doesn’t make junk. Like every thing in my garden, and like every other creature in God’s garden, I’m perfect as is. I was meant to be as I am, as I have been, as I will be. Through me and through all his creations, God expressed his will, and declared it good. I am his will, and I am good.

 

I’ve learned that God loves diversity, or else why would he have created anew each flower and each snowflake? I’m different from every other creation, and my uniqueness is holy. When asked what he had learned about God from his studies, Darwin replied, “God seems to have had an inordinate fondness for beetles” (the very diverse species which Darwin particularly studied as a young man.)

 

I’ve learned that God doesn’t mow down dandelions because they’ve been bad. I’m not individually judged, targeted, punished, or rewarded. God’s world works the way it works exactly as he meant it to work. Along with every other creature, I’m subject to his inexorable laws of cause and effect, laws he quite deliberately set in motion. Sun shines and rain falls unpredictably and arbitrarily on all of us, and there’s an inexorable and unprejudiced justice in that. God’s not in the business of interfering with cause and effect.

 

I’ve learned that God is in the business of nurturing the processes of life, and of celebrating life’s cycles. Like all his creations in his garden, I was supposed to be born and I’m supposed to die, and—if I’m lucky—I’ll have some time in between to grow.

 

I’ve learned that I’m expected to turn toward the sun and try hard to grow bigger and stronger and smarter, to understand God’s laws and live fully within them. I’m also expected to accept disease, decay, and death as a natural part of life.

 

I’ve learned that I’m loved. God is bounteous, and provides richly for each creature whatever it needs to live the life he expects of it until its time to die. If I ask for something and God doesn’t give it to me, I don’t need it.

 

I’ve learned that I’m not just a unique flower; I’m also the air and the soil and the nutrients, the rain and the light and the whole ecological system supporting me. My identity is dual—I’m both an individual and an integral part of a whole. I’m a unique self and a larger self.

 

I’ve learned that, just as each creature does its part to support all of life, it is supported in return by all of life. I am meant to support all of life just as if it were my self—which it is. I do unto life as I would have it do unto me, I treat others as I would like to be treated. Life blesses me, and I bless life.

 

I’ve learned that although flowers die, life is eternal. When my unique body/identity/self dies, my connected self will spring forth renewed, born again. I’m part of life, part of God, one with God—and life/God/self go on forever.

 

I’ve learned from my garden to let go of my insistence upon fairness and equality in earthly outcomes, and to accept instead whatever God offers. Life abundant and life eternal are God’s precious and generous versions of love and justice. I tend his garden humbly, contributing my own invaluable and unique gifts in appreciation and peace.

 

Happy Easter, happy Purim, happy spring to all! Happy season-of-welcoming-new-life-birth-rebirth-cycles-processes-growth-nurturing-beauty-and-joy! And happy gardening….

An Appreciation of Gardeners….

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Many people take a gardener’s work for granted. They shouldn’t! Here are twelve of the important roles a gardener plays….

 

First, a gardener is a laborer.

 

You work, lift, haul, dig, sow, reap. You eat bugs and dirt and pain and sweat and cold. You love the outdoors, sun, water, and the feel and smell of dirt.

 

You turn to your garden to create, not to consume. You know that work is the one prayer that most deserves to be answered. You feed the hungry. Your work is sensuous and sensual, and you find joy in its direct experience. You are close to the soil and fully connected to the earth. You are here, now. Your work is love made visible.

 

A gardener is a good neighbor.

 

You’re a giver—of bouquets, bulbs, jam and apples, of cucumbers and conversation and kindness, of assistance and advice. You’re a teacher of both the old and the young. You know that a single seed in a paper cup holds a world of science and wonder.

 

You’re prepared to pass on a whole lifetime of gardening traditions—in times of prosperity, or in times of disaster. You decorate your community. You spread beauty and knowledge.

 

A gardener is a horticulturist.

 

You’re a student of plants, a botanist, a collector, a taxonomist, a geneticist, a specialist. In order to care for your plants, you study their whole world. You understand losses and surprises, setbacks and triumphs, persistence and patience.

 

A gardener is a scientist.

 

You enter your garden not to escape reality but to observe it more closely. You compare. You take notes, keep records, write journals. You analyze your failures and improve on your successes. You inquire and experiment and expand your knowledge.

 

A gardener is a naturalist.

 

Your expertise is not only in plants. You know soils, weather, birds, insects, fungi, microorganisms and micronutrients, pathogens, pollution, and pesticides. You recognize your biological reflection, your genetic double, in every garden creature and plant.

 

You celebrate the messiness of evolution and sex and spring and birth and rebirth. You’re an ecologist, a biologist, a zoologist. You know the connectedness of creation and your place in the web of life.

 

A gardener is an activist.

 

Your garden shows that you care—about healthful food, clean air and water, and earth-friendly horticultural practices; about soil conservation, wildlife habitat, about smaller and larger ecosystems, about native plants and species extinction.

 

You understand that the one power you have that will never corrupt you is your power to make something lovely. You’re a bioethicist, a political animal, and a steward of our children’s future.

 

Your garden is a statement of how you relate—to the land, to family, neighbors, community, to the present, past and future, to your country and to other countries, to your planet. You found out, in your garden, who you are and who you want to be, what you stand for.

 

A gardener is a creative artist.

 

You nurture the beauty in each plant. Your garden is an expression of your individual style, your philosophy, personality, your personal rules and directions and themes, your knowledge base, experiences, and interests. Through your garden, you give form to chaos.

 

You paint picturesque garden compositions. You demonstrate that substances obeying their own laws do beautiful things, and you demonstrate that there is no beauty anywhere that is not totally dependent on relationship. You co-create living masterpieces.

 

A gardener is a traveler on a mythic journey.

 

You venture through a beckoning gate into a mysterious world of uncharted paths, on a timeless hero’s journey through secret passages and hidden turnings, to your life’s destinations….You sometimes stop to smell the roses, and maybe slay a dragon(fly) or two.

 

A gardener is a philosopher.

 

A garden is a philosopher’s church, a place to worship Mother Nature and the mysterious workings of the universe. In a garden, you seek, find and create meaning.

 

In your life, as in your garden, your purposes and interests and opportunities change with the seasons. In your life, as in your garden, you live and make choices within a limited framework, with considerable constraints, making the most of what you have, and working what is already there. In your garden, you see reflected your own birth, reproductive urges, decay and death, your battles with disease and disorder, your struggles to grow, to compete, to seek light.

 

Along with your garden plants, you share the tender mercies of rain and sun and nourishment. You dance a ring around your rosies, your pockets full of posies. You come from dust, to dust return. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

 

A gardener is an historian and a storyteller.

 

Your garden tells, not only your story, but its own story—how you made it, what your plans and impulses were. Your garden reveals all the things you can’t resist doing and all the things you never got around to.

 

Perhaps your garden tells the history of the land itself—its geology, topography, its last owners and previous uses. Your garden may reflect memories of beloved childhood gardens, as well as gardens you’ve visited in your travels, through art, literature, and in your imagination.

 

Last, a gardener is a mystic.

 

In your garden, you can be a dreamer, a spiritual seeker, maybe even a monk. In a garden, you accept life’s mystery, and attempt to recreate it.

 

You accept God’s grace, and his fierce, unexplainable logic. In a garden, you know God, for by the work, you know the Workman. Your work is your worship, gratitude, communion, and offering. You live in that infinite time, space, and distance that is the present.

 

Your smallest flower contains a universe. You are that flower, and you are the universe. You are the gardener and the garden, the fruit of the vine and the harvest.

 

(Thanks for insights, inspiration and images to: Carol Williams, Bringing a Garden to Life; Michael Pollan, Second Nature; Joe Eck, Elements of Garden Design; Ed Whitney (watercolorist); Henry Mitchell, The Essential Earthman and One Man’s Garden; Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet; The Holy Bible; and Mother Goose.)

A Bunch of Unreallistic Dreamers and Kooks–and Me

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A ragtag bunch of unrealistic dreamers and kooks shared our home while passing through Frederick on their trek from Oak Ridge, Tennessee, headed toward the United Nations in New York City, where they will join a rally for nuclear non-proliferation in early May.

 

Or were they a serious, hard-working, disciplined, organized, committed, and spiritual group of unique individuals taking small peaceful steps toward greater sanity in a nutty world?

 

Arriving after a 20 mile walk from Lucketts, Virginia, the group took a scheduled rest day (once every seven days) in Frederick, welcomed by members of the Frederick Friends (Quakers) and several other local groups, before walking off toward a night hosted by two Thurmont churches.

 

What did I experience? A disparate but remarkably purposeful and caring group of believers and non-believers—Christians, Buddhists, activists of many stripes, the old and the young, walking for a day or a week or a month or for thousands of miles in many countries. They are black, white, Asian, native American, from the U.S., Japan, Australia, and many other countries.

 

As I juggle my own daily logistics, I wonder how the peacewalkers manage to arrange nightly lodging (on the floors of welcoming libraries and churches) how they eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, get medical care, manage personal possessions and sleeping bags…. But all seems smooth and organized. Every day they rise for interfaith prayer, and are walking by 7 a.m. They walk fast, carrying peace banners from many nations, smiling and waving and sharing their energy and positivity, even after walking fifteen miles. They are efficient and tidy, leaving their accommodations spotless.

 

I expected to host exhausted walkers who would collapse until noon in every corner of my home. No, they rose at dawn for prayer. One visitor, a Buddhist nun, magically produced from a small suitcase, a portable office. She spent the morning using her brief “rest” to email and call far-flung colleagues, and to plan a future walk converging in South Dakota. Willing hands produced a light breakfast and a feast for lunch. The young people wanted to explore Frederick’s downtown, while the rest shopped Goodwill, mailed pressed flowers and letters home, and then planned their evening presentations for curious townsfolk–about why they joined the group, why they walk, why they’ve stayed.

 

After everyone had left, I thought about what their work meant to me. I was most struck by how reversed I now felt about who and what is crazy.

 

Although I always have respected the peacewalkers’ cause—nuclear non-proliferation—I admit that I invited them despite a feeling that this was a crazy bunch of people choosing a crazy life and a crazy goal.

 

Now I’m thinking about cutting out sugar and caffeine and alcohol, as many of them do, for more energy–and maybe I’ll start fasting, too. I’m considering rising a little earlier to meditate and pray, and I’m asking myself what example my way of life offers to my children, and to others. I’m thinking again about moving forward on some impossible dreams of my own, thinking about taking the next step and then the next, as the peacewalkers courageously do each day, keeping the faith in humanity and possibility.

 

I’m thinking that maybe the life I see on TV, the commercial life, the fast life of the contemporary west, my life, is perhaps not the best context from which to decide who is crazy or not, nor from which to determine what is a balanced, healthy, useful life. I’m thinking that maybe I’ll try to shake myself free of contemporary culture just long enough to reconsider the possibility that nuclear tragedy isn’t necessarily inevitable, nor that working for change in our government policies isn’t necessarily a waste of time, and that joy and meaning and energy may come more readily from a purposeful, disciplined, giving, hardworking, kind, and open life.

 

I’m thinking I’ll keep an eye on the internet for the next time any peacewalkers come anywhere near my town again. I’ll download their schedule and join them in solidarity and respect, for a few days, or maybe I’ll plan a vacation around them. Maybe others will do the same, and maybe someday, as they hope, huge throngs will crowd around them in appreciation and support as they stride purposefully, idealistically, determinedly through the towns of the world. Yes, it’s true, they’re dreamers. But they’re not the only ones.

When Eggheady Experts Are Kept Out of Government, Education, and Science…

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We have a two-party political system in America, so conservatives hope we’ll take their next logical leap and compress the wide range of contemporary intellectual thought into two primary worldviews—conservative and liberal. For if conservatives succeed in framing the free exchange of ideas inspired by our constitution into a dichotomy having two equal perspectives, one right and one left, they can feel encouraged in their demand for an equitable fair share of the teaching and research slots in America’s institutions of higher education.

 

But even if one felt an obligation to divide the universe of knowledge and opinion into two opposing sides (one doesn’t) it would make more sense to label the two approaches “closed-minded” and “open-minded,” or perhaps, “conservative” and “all the rest.” For although political conservatism is well-financed and influential in America, within the scope of contemporary intellectual thought, conservatism has the status and weight of a fringe cult–because while there are innumerable ways to be a liberal thinker, there are only a handful of ways to be a conservative.

 

The dictionary definition of “liberal” is: “Not limited to or by established, traditional, orthodox, or authoritarian attitudes, views, or dogmas; free from bigotry. Favoring proposals for reform, open to new ideas for progress, and tolerant of the ideas and behavior of others; broad-minded.”

 

The dictionary definition of conservative is: Favoring traditional views and values; tending to oppose change.”

 

Conservatives hope that Americans will ignore the minor nonsense-correlation evident between two statistical factoids: one, that most of our nation’s well-informed, well-educated, and broadly experienced professorial “experts” identify themselves as “liberal;” and two, that these same pointy-headed experts are the very ones we need to bring their knowledge, complexity, and sophistication—i.e., “expertise”—to contemporary American problems.

 

Just as lifetimes spent inquiring into the significant body of evidence, experimentation, and thought we call “science” generally lead scholars to conclude that evolution is a broad, reliable, predictive scientific theory explaining the history and biology of life on earth…

 

So, too, do smart, well-educated, well-informed, and open-minded investigators into today’s broad universe of knowledge,  unsurprisingly referred to as “the liberal arts,” generally draw logically-connected, broad-based liberal conclusions about the way the world works.

 

Too many Americans,  unfortunately so ill-educated as to distrust fancy-talking experts as “others” and “outsiders,” elect legislators and presidents who themselves distrust experts, with the unsurprising result that we get bumbling, inexpert political decision-makers who create truly bad foreign, domestic, environmental, monetary, and defense policy.

 

The last thing conservatives want, though, is our nation’s acknowledged, highly-respected experts—who’ve spent their lives studying history and culture and policy and education and diplomacy and economics and science and all the other fields of knowledge—mucking around in their administration’s policy-making…

 

Because the conservative mind is, by definition, closed to all new views.

 

Because the conservative worldview was already made up, once upon a long long time ago in a land far far away.

Last Night at the Frederick Peace Meeting

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An impressive group of Frederick citizens exercised their constitutional rights and civic duties last night in thoughtful, impassioned dialogue concerning the planned Fort Detrick multi-agency expansion (which includes the Departments of Agriculture, Defense, Health and Human Services, and Homeland Security.)

 

An articulate lifelong activist expressed her concern that necessary security precautions might screen the illicit activities of a small but powerful paranoid minority. What if a secret few rationalized production of dangerous new viruses? Wouldn’t those new viruses be subject to misuse, terrorism, theft, accidents, and carelessness? Even with past assurances, she thought, bad things can happen. They’ve happened before.

 

A caring, erudite scientist advocated cool heads, citing good intentions, expertise, experience, safety, and the many advantages of the planned diagnostic and protective research for both soldiers and citizenry.

 

A thoughtful businessman offered practical suggestions on how to continue to spread the group's concerns and ideas–where concerned citizens might go and whom they might see–the mayor, Ft. Detrick leaders, members of Congress. He encouraged continued participation in the issue.

 

A young Quaker pacifist asked how everyone felt about working cooperatively with Ft. Detrick to assure transparency and open processes? Did the group still hope to influence Ft. Detrick to reverse itself on the expansion in general?

 

No compromises, urged a war-weary longtime activist, suspicious after many years of uphill battles. What if we collaborate while new strains of deadly viruses are weaponized? What if the Ft. Detrick expansion begins a new arms race in biological weapons as uncontrollable and dangerous in this brave new world as the current arms races in nuclear bombs, missiles, and conventional air, sea, and land weaponry?

 

A retired teacher wondered aloud whether the expansion might attract terrorists to Frederick. What if someone lobbed a bomb over the post perimeter fence from a home in any of the nearby neighborhoods? It’s not only the loss of lives and property, she added wistfully. Wouldn’t there be a national panic over the possible biological contents of floating and falling debris? Would that panic be legitimate?

 

The possibility of a bomb alarmed a tireless peace worker who handles much of the group’s paper and phone work. Nothing in the Ft. Detrick report said anything about a bomb, she worried, passing chocolates down the conference table (the group was temporarily meeting at a nursing home where she was recovering from a stroke.) A bomb. What about all our lifelong Frederick friends, family, our grandchildren?

 

The Peace Resource Center’s founder, a selfless, peaceful activist and community leader for more than twenty years, sought consensus by restating what he had heard from all of us:  Were we still hoping to prevent the Detrick expansion? Or were we willing to continue to strongly share our concerns while working for transparency and openness in all processes?

 

A firm “NO” came from a knowledgeable woman who dons black clothing to conduct public evening vigils in solidarity with women everywhere suffering from violence. What would spending this money tell the world about our national priorities? How could America throw money at potential threats when so many here and abroad are suffering and dying right now from real and present threats, like preventable diseases and malnutrition?

 

A soft-spoken newcomer wondered aloud whether bioterrorism research was at all suited for a military base, especially a base historically synonymous in the minds of the international community with biological warfare. Was it wise to deliberately inflame international perceptions? Why create more fear and anger? Even if U.S. actions are unimpeachable, will anyone trust our intentions, given our bioweapons history, our military presence in hundreds of bases all over the world, the size of our defense budget, our use of atomic weapons, and our current proactive conduct of the war on terror?

 

One powerful citizen offered a European perspective: All this focus on terrorism–wasn't it just serving the interests of those who might wish to divert national attention away from greater threats to our homeland’s  security—our unpopular foreign policies and wars, our national debt and deficit, our lack of living wages, unaffordable health care, housing, and higher education, our troubled education system, our threatened civil and political rights, our beleaguered environment?  And what about our fights against drugs, pornography, alcohol, crime, low moral standards, and imprisonment? Aren’t these threats endangering our beloved country’s security right now, every bit as as much or even more than potential acts of terrorism?

 

A young collegian who had listened in silence spoke out in challenging yet measured terms. If you want young people to support your efforts, he said, don’t water this stuff down. Speak up. Take a stand. Be clear. If you know what you want, go after it. I think we should oppose the expansion.

 

A cacophony of sharing and side-conversations ended the meeting. We can still do some good…. We can support needed work without supporting secrecy and dangerous experimentation…. Let’s talk more at our next meeting about our films-for-peace  project…. You can’t control technology—didn’t you see Jurassic Park?… You just have to be careful…. Are you coming to the peace conference?… Can the rewards match such risks?… Someone should write all this up…. Hugs…warm handshakes…. That new website looks great…. Courage…. How is your family?… Want a ride home?… Here, take this candy…. Good-bye good-bye, until next time.

 

(The people and ideas shared in this article are composites of attendees and opinions exchanged at recent meetings. The Peace Resource Center of Frederick invites constructive participation and objective debate on this and other issues. They meet at 4 East Church St. on the 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of each month from 7:30-9:30 pm.)

Acceptance 7 – If I accept something or someone, does that mean I have to put up with them?

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Who can foretell the future? Miracles happen all the time. Things change, and the changes often seem miraculous, spontaneous, amazing. So, will you have to put up with anyone, or anyone forever? Maybe not.

Changes have happened before in your life: one morning you woke up and something was different, better than it was, something that was really hard before. If you accept something, just for now, that acceptance will be the beginning of a change, and that change will lead to other changes you can't know about, and some day you'll notice that whatever it was that you were putting up with or fighting or being miserable about just isn't a problem anymore.

What changes can happen if I accept something/someone?

Good question. Here are some changes that have happened to me as I've learned to become more accepting: I'm happier–more often, more consistently. I get over stuff quicker. I spend less time worrying, analyzing, wishing, angry, upset, miserable, frustrated, struggling, wrestling with problems. I spend far less time fussing about stuff that happened in the past, or yesterday, or an hour ago, and much less time stressing about how the future will play out for me and mine.

I get along with other people better than I used to, although the challenges just keep on coming. No one ever (ever) gets anything, or everything, “finally” right, once-and-for-all. Instead, what I've learned about acceptance helps keep me chipping away, making small improvements in things, day-by-day. But my relationships are improved, and continuing to improve, and they're easier, and more fun, and more rewarding, and less often stressful, and less often chaotic and awful, and much more long-lasting.

I don't fall apart at disasters or setbacks or disappointments quite so quickly, I'm less easily discouraged, and I'm more able to learn from my mistakes faster, and I move on afterward more quickly. I'm less sad, and spend much less time feeling depressed. I'm kinder, more loving. Calmer. Peaceful-er. More easy-going. More relaxed. More friendly. Less defensive. Less hostile. Warmer. Happier in my own skin. Gentler.

I'm more effective in the world, and a better advocate for the changes I want to see in it. I'm less shrill and self-righteous and angry and polarized, oppositional, contentious.

How is that for starters? There are other things, but these are some of the kinds of changes that can come with acceptance. And yes, I have more money these days, a happy marriage, more leisure time, too, all of which have come to me as I've learned acceptance. Being me feels so much better now than it did back then, bigtime.

Next: Where do I start with acceptance, on myself or others?

 

Acceptance 6 – Is acceptance Christian? Or is it based on some eastern philosophy or religion?

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Jesus accepted what God gave him to be and to do, accepted the life and death and work that was given him by his father. Jesus's prayer was always, “Thy will be done.” Jesus made acceptance an important part of every prayer. He tried to accept God's will: “Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”

And what is God's will? Well, look around at what he made. If God is all-powerful and all-good, is it likely that he goofed up in his intentions when he made the world and all the beings in it? Or did he make them just as he wanted them to be, in all their diversity and potential, and then called them “good?” If God made you and the earth and everyone else on the planet, then what he made must be his will. He must have meant to make people who were capable of mistakes and failures and weakness, or he wouldn't have done it. You are God's will, and so is everyone else, and so is the earth, just as it is, along with all of its possibilities.

When someone dies and people say, “It's God's will,” what do they mean? Do they mean that God is mean and wants innocent babies to suffer and die? Or do they mean that God made all things possible on this best of all possible worlds, and called that good, and that we must accept any of those possibilities as part of his vision. God meant for the world and the people in it to be just exactly as it is and as they are. If God had meant for each of us to be perfect, to never mess up or suffer or fail; if God had meant for the world to be without pain or problems, he would have made it that way, would have made us different. We are God's will, and so is his earth.

Look and see: God's will is us, and everything around us. You are God's will, and so am I, and so is everyone else, and so is the world, as it is. Because he made us, because he made it so. And yes, God also made us ambitous for happiness, and for goodness, and for love, and that too seems to be his will.

Adam and Eve rocked along pretty happily in their beautiful garden until they started to find fault with everything in it, including each other; until they began to notice with dismay their own nakedness/sexuality; until they ate of the fruit of the tree of good/evil right/wrong, and started judging everything and everyone along those lines. After that, they were miserable, because they started finding fault with everything that God had made, with each other, with sexuality itself, which, it should be quite evident, is God's will.

God gave us the necessary brains and hearts to live in his beautiful garden helpfully with one another. We can choose to spend our lives picking at and poking at and being angry about everyone and everything and ourselves all the time, labeling everything as good and bad, right and wrong. Or, we can accept ourselves and his world and everyone in it as he made us, as is–and along with him, call it all “good.” Who are we to argue with God? And besides, it's a lot nicer and more fun living acceptingly inside his beautiful garden with him, than wandering around outside it in the wilderness of the desert, wailing in pain and resistant to everything and everyone, resistant even to God, maybe even especially to God.

Life is just too lonely without him, without the world, without each other, without our own selves as our best friends. We've all “done” lonely, and it doesn't work.

Next: If I accept something or someone, does that mean I have to put up with them?

Alternately Stuffing and Starving Our Kids: A Very American Dilemma

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I often see articles about new ways to stuff our kids with the many required daily servings of nutritionally different foods. Just as often, I read articles about our increasingly obese, bulimic, and anorexic children. We’re raising fat children obsessed with thinness. This is a very American problem.

 

Pressured by the food industry, we promulgate impossible-to-use nutritional guidelines advising ridiculous daily diets, as if we can’t be trusted to eat a little bit of  banana one day and some apple slices the next? A little meat or cheese or soy once or twice a week and a changing daily vegetable? A handful of nuts and grains here and there? Tell us that we need a healthful variety of foods weekly or monthly and we’ll offer our families inexpensive, logistically possible, non-fattening meals.

 

Our poor confused young mothers think if they don’t offer their kids snacks on demand, they’re child abusers. Why do we let opportunistic advertisers badger us into confusing a reasonable demand for a little food-discipline and postponement of gratification, with starvation and cruelty?

 

In my childhood home, we were offered as much as we cared to eat, three times a day, of a healthful, balanced meal, along with as many snacks as we might want in between meals—so long as those snacks were apples or whole-wheat bread (both so available as to be boringly unappealing; we ate them only when we were really hungry. Well. Duh?) Did we get enough to eat? Hmmmm. I do recall a time or two arriving at the next meal absolutely voracious, polishing off whatever was on my plate, and asking for more. This was a problem? My parents raised four slim, healthy, active daughters.

 

My father’s rather original hypothesis was that our long evolution as hunter-gatherers generated babies and children who were hard-wired to distinguish early and instantly which foods were unsafe–by attentively watching others eat. Armed with this theory, my parents made a good show of enthusiastically exclaiming, smiling, and smacking their lips delightedly over healthful food. They also led the family in joyful, admiring cheers whenever one of us bravely ate her required three teensy bites of unfamiliar food.  Nowadays parents only give their children attention for not eating. This makes sense?

 

My parents offered no sweets or desserts except on birthdays and holidays, so their hungry girls learned to enjoy all kinds of veggies, fruits, meats, nuts, and grains, along with a diversity of ethnic foods. Although I  learned (after I left home) to put my foot down over eating obvious body parts like eyeballs and tentacles, I still gobble up with gusto anything disguised and unnamed.

 

Raising my own young family, I breast-fed on demand and offered watered-down juice and ground-up baby food from my plate. I worked hard to keep my daughters cheerfully occupied while gradually stretching out times between meals. I didn’t offer quick carbs or sweets, so sugar crashes weren’t a problem–and even then, there was always that ubiquitous apple….  We limited ourselves to a few hours of public television a day, so food advertising was not a problem. I am proud to have raised two slim daughters.

 

We’re a nation of fat people for good reason: we don’t trust our own common sense, but instead let ourselves be over-influenced by those who stand to gain from our choosing unwise and unhealthful approaches. Our children are doubly victimized: by our bad examples, and by media temptations and modern fears which preclude their free play outdoors. Sensible media regulation, along with a solid public media campaign re-introducing such old-fashioned concepts as gluttony and common sense might make a dent in our national waistline. Until then, we are certainly the laughing stock of the rest of the world, which sees Americans as pigs greedily ruining our own health while ignoring the malnutrition and starvation of others. Or at least, they would be laughing, if the whole thing weren’t just so damned tragic.