Sittin’ here just thinkin,’ taking a few moments break from work (OK, I DID get out earlier for an…interesting ski with my husky across sleet…), I’m struck by how many times I’ve heard the words over the years, in a wide variety of contexts, “Well, I need to get my life in order first.”
Just whose life IS “in order”? What does that even mean? Someone with no problems? Someone with no entanglements? Someone whose life moves everyday perfectly synched to some cosmic schedule? Who ARE these people?
Well, they don’t exist, of course. I’m all for continual self-improvement and striving for the best, but to wait for that before truly living is sad, and perhaps dysfunctional, if understandably so. We’ll all die first!
Nowhere is this more prevalent than in new relationships, and it’s rooted in pride. I’m as guilty as anyone--I do alone very well, I don’t need anyone, I’ve got other life issues to address, and so on. I certainly have my share of pride, too. But despite our individual culture--and this is not to ignore the many benefits of valuing each of us as individuals--it’s flawed at best.
Simply considering our biology dictates man was meant to live with woman, and woman with man. Sure, its more than that--which is why sex with someone loved on multiple levels and for multiple reasons is wonderful, not just a biological act. But to pretend this is apart from our nature is silly.
Perfection doesn’t come easily, if it comes at all. So here’s to imperfect relationships and abnormal lives--in all their messy, individualistic, problem-soaked and vastly interesting living-life-to-its-fullest glory.
Writer
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Fountain
What I remember most is the fountain. A column of sparkling particles rose in the bright sunlight and gracefully spread in a shower of glittering splendor before delicately falling back to earth.
It was a beautiful day--clear, warm, calm, a good day for lazy pursuits. I was on my way to visit my grandfather in Western New York, enjoying the scenic ride along Rt. 20. Suddenly, as a reflex, I started to shout an obscenity as my hand pounded the horn and my foot stomped on the brake--the idiot in front of me was stopping abruptly. But almost as soon as I had reacted, I froze--a car from the oncoming lane had swerved into the path of the car in front of me, causing the abrupt stop. Everything changed in that instant. I could no longer hear my voice, still shouting my obscenity, now in mid-word. I couldn't hear the horn blaring, I couldn't hear the tires screaming, and I didn't hear the two cars hit as I watched them crumple in slow motion. My car was skidding to an eventual stop, but I knew I'd never be able to stop in time. I watched the glass fountain slowly rise, catching the sunlight, spreading its misty brilliance, and float back to the ground. The cars continued their dance, slowly bounced apart, and I skidded through the space they created.
I thought my car would never finally stop; it seemed to skid for hundreds of feet for a few minutes, even though I hadn't been traveling fast. My instant impulse after finally reaching the roadside was to jump out and run to help the accident victims. But “jump and run” had a new definition. People performing in underwater ballets move faster. All my strength went into every stride, but every stride seemed to take minutes.
Still, I was the first on the scene, and time returned to its normal pace. The car that had swerved held a college age woman, unconscious, her lip hanging from the half still attached, half her face coated with blood. "I'm drowning" she repeated, barely audible. The other car held a family of four, Mom, Dad, and two children, probably two and four years old. None of them had been wearing seat belts; Mom and Dad were trapped under the dash, and the children had been thrown from the car.
Other people started to arrive on the scene, and Mom woke, "My babies! Where are my babies?" Two of the new arrivals surrounded the children lying motionless on the ground. "People are looking after them," I fudged, not knowing if the children were even alive. "Try to remain calm while the ambulance comes, OK?," I lamely attempted. She agreed, calmed down for just a few moments, and started screaming again. I repeated my attempts to keep her calm, and we continued this cycle for several minutes until the paramedics finally arrived. I walked over to the grass to wait my turn to talk to the Sheriff, sat down, and finally fell apart, shaking violently for several minutes.
Everyone did survive the collision, I finally visited my grandfather, and except for occasional calls from the two parties' lawyers looking for court evidence, I had largely forgotten the incident after a time--except for the fountain--until a few summers ago.
Early one Sunday morning, a rabbit darted into the road just a few feet in front of my car. Again reacting, I slammed on the brakes, instantly spinning the car. Used to years of winter driving, I turned into the spin, but the car was already traveling sideways off the road. Although I wasn't driving fast, I knew I'd never be able to stop before I hit the tree in front of me; I never saw the tree my car hit sideways, just inches behind the driver's seat.
No slow motion this time--everything happened too quickly to follow. Just a second or too passed before an onlooker called 911 and kept me from trying to leave my car, pointing out that my arm was torn open, something I hadn't realized. The paramedics seemed to arrive in under a minute, and insisted, foolishly, I thought at the time, on cutting me out of my car. I calmly answered questions and even joked a little, until finally, in the ambulance, I went into shock. Worried medics hurriedly started IV drips and draped every blanket available over my still shivering body as I turned pale white. Radio conversations with the emergency room staff heralded our imminent arrival. But, several X-rays and a little surgery later, I was on my way home.
It took weeks to fully absorb what had happened. I thought the insurance company too hastily wrote off my car as totaled. I described the event to friends almost as a fender bender. I wondered why I had nightmares, something I hadn't experienced for years. It was three or four weeks before I realized that with a few inches difference, the tree that crushed my back seat would have crushed my skull. I guess that explains why I could barely move--or breathe--for a few months. My sister had taken pictures of my former car the day of the accident and mailed me a set. I finally opened the envelope.
Denial is easy, and human capacity for indulging it is staggering. The clear facts steadily stare, but they're so often invisible. Fountains are like that. They appear solid and still, despite their actual constant motion and nebulous, liquid state. Like fountains, focused will can propel us for a fair distance, but inevitably that originally climbing column will reach its zenith and dissipate in a shower of disintegrated droplets. Obviously life will end for all of us, but we manage to act in daily life as if we will never lose power. But control is an illusion. The fountain is beautiful, but the water supply can be shut off at any moment.
Writer
It was a beautiful day--clear, warm, calm, a good day for lazy pursuits. I was on my way to visit my grandfather in Western New York, enjoying the scenic ride along Rt. 20. Suddenly, as a reflex, I started to shout an obscenity as my hand pounded the horn and my foot stomped on the brake--the idiot in front of me was stopping abruptly. But almost as soon as I had reacted, I froze--a car from the oncoming lane had swerved into the path of the car in front of me, causing the abrupt stop. Everything changed in that instant. I could no longer hear my voice, still shouting my obscenity, now in mid-word. I couldn't hear the horn blaring, I couldn't hear the tires screaming, and I didn't hear the two cars hit as I watched them crumple in slow motion. My car was skidding to an eventual stop, but I knew I'd never be able to stop in time. I watched the glass fountain slowly rise, catching the sunlight, spreading its misty brilliance, and float back to the ground. The cars continued their dance, slowly bounced apart, and I skidded through the space they created.
I thought my car would never finally stop; it seemed to skid for hundreds of feet for a few minutes, even though I hadn't been traveling fast. My instant impulse after finally reaching the roadside was to jump out and run to help the accident victims. But “jump and run” had a new definition. People performing in underwater ballets move faster. All my strength went into every stride, but every stride seemed to take minutes.
Still, I was the first on the scene, and time returned to its normal pace. The car that had swerved held a college age woman, unconscious, her lip hanging from the half still attached, half her face coated with blood. "I'm drowning" she repeated, barely audible. The other car held a family of four, Mom, Dad, and two children, probably two and four years old. None of them had been wearing seat belts; Mom and Dad were trapped under the dash, and the children had been thrown from the car.
Other people started to arrive on the scene, and Mom woke, "My babies! Where are my babies?" Two of the new arrivals surrounded the children lying motionless on the ground. "People are looking after them," I fudged, not knowing if the children were even alive. "Try to remain calm while the ambulance comes, OK?," I lamely attempted. She agreed, calmed down for just a few moments, and started screaming again. I repeated my attempts to keep her calm, and we continued this cycle for several minutes until the paramedics finally arrived. I walked over to the grass to wait my turn to talk to the Sheriff, sat down, and finally fell apart, shaking violently for several minutes.
Everyone did survive the collision, I finally visited my grandfather, and except for occasional calls from the two parties' lawyers looking for court evidence, I had largely forgotten the incident after a time--except for the fountain--until a few summers ago.
Early one Sunday morning, a rabbit darted into the road just a few feet in front of my car. Again reacting, I slammed on the brakes, instantly spinning the car. Used to years of winter driving, I turned into the spin, but the car was already traveling sideways off the road. Although I wasn't driving fast, I knew I'd never be able to stop before I hit the tree in front of me; I never saw the tree my car hit sideways, just inches behind the driver's seat.
No slow motion this time--everything happened too quickly to follow. Just a second or too passed before an onlooker called 911 and kept me from trying to leave my car, pointing out that my arm was torn open, something I hadn't realized. The paramedics seemed to arrive in under a minute, and insisted, foolishly, I thought at the time, on cutting me out of my car. I calmly answered questions and even joked a little, until finally, in the ambulance, I went into shock. Worried medics hurriedly started IV drips and draped every blanket available over my still shivering body as I turned pale white. Radio conversations with the emergency room staff heralded our imminent arrival. But, several X-rays and a little surgery later, I was on my way home.
It took weeks to fully absorb what had happened. I thought the insurance company too hastily wrote off my car as totaled. I described the event to friends almost as a fender bender. I wondered why I had nightmares, something I hadn't experienced for years. It was three or four weeks before I realized that with a few inches difference, the tree that crushed my back seat would have crushed my skull. I guess that explains why I could barely move--or breathe--for a few months. My sister had taken pictures of my former car the day of the accident and mailed me a set. I finally opened the envelope.
Denial is easy, and human capacity for indulging it is staggering. The clear facts steadily stare, but they're so often invisible. Fountains are like that. They appear solid and still, despite their actual constant motion and nebulous, liquid state. Like fountains, focused will can propel us for a fair distance, but inevitably that originally climbing column will reach its zenith and dissipate in a shower of disintegrated droplets. Obviously life will end for all of us, but we manage to act in daily life as if we will never lose power. But control is an illusion. The fountain is beautiful, but the water supply can be shut off at any moment.
Writer
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Clery in the Goat Line
During the 2004 U.S. presidential election, a group of Catholic bishops claimed that voting for John Kerry would be a sin. They cited his pro-choice stance on abortion in particular, along with his position on stem cell research.
The bishops’ stance was nothing more than voter intimidation and a thinly veiled foray into politics. The repercussions for both Americans and religion are, at the very least, troubling.
Start with the sheer arrogance. How is it that these particular bishops knew the mind of God when numerous other bishops felt these are matters of individual conscience (as Kerry stated his own view)? Why did this issue supposedly take precedence over all others, including the death penalty, war, and poverty?
It also took fantastic nerve to throw stones on top of the child sexual abuse scandal and the church’s cover up and enabling of the abusers. Hardly a strong position for children’s rights.
And what of the Bush Administration? Is it not a sin to lie to bring a nation to war, subsequently killing thousands of Americans and Iraqis, including innocent civilians?
Shouldn’t good Christians worry about clear moral problems, such as wrongfully executed citizens? Or that America is one of only three countries that executes children (the others are Iran and Pakistan)?
The bishops are trying to prevent thinking. No one is FOR abortion, only whether choice should be legislated. And the bishops don’t have a very good record obeying the law anyway. If the sanctity of life is truly important to them, how about saving newborns in China drowned because they’re female? How about saving thousands of innocent people from ethnic slaughter in Rwanda and the Sudan? How about saving millions of African children who die each year from diarrhea? Unfortunately, the key issue seems to be winning, ego, not the sanctity of life. Look at the rhetoric about Iraq--the Bush administration doesn't talk about peace or success, but winning and losing.
That Republicans embraced such end runs around thinking is also telling. The Republican National Convention stressed that “A vote for Bush is a vote for God,” perhaps the most sickening and baldly disingenuous statement to come from politics. Thankfully voters had enough and sent Republicans the message they deserved, that Americans think for themselves, and showed such outrageous Republicans the door. Maybe they should do the same for a few clergy.
If not, Americans won’t have to fear Islamic Fundamentalists--Christian Fundamentalists seem ready to do the job for them. After Osama bin Laden responded to the 9/11 attacks with “Not me, but thank Allah,” the Rev. Jerry Falwell added “I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the A.C.L.U., People for the American Way--all of them who have tried to secularize America--I point the finger in their face and say, ‘You helped this happen.’”
Matthew 25:31-46 explains that when the Son of Man comes in His glory, He will separate the sheep (those destined for heaven) from the goats, based on how each responded when the Lord was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, or in prison. They will ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, or in prison?” The Lord will reply, “Whenever you did this to (for) the least of my brothers, you did it to (for) me.”
Quite a few bishops may be in the goat line.
Writer
The bishops’ stance was nothing more than voter intimidation and a thinly veiled foray into politics. The repercussions for both Americans and religion are, at the very least, troubling.
Start with the sheer arrogance. How is it that these particular bishops knew the mind of God when numerous other bishops felt these are matters of individual conscience (as Kerry stated his own view)? Why did this issue supposedly take precedence over all others, including the death penalty, war, and poverty?
It also took fantastic nerve to throw stones on top of the child sexual abuse scandal and the church’s cover up and enabling of the abusers. Hardly a strong position for children’s rights.
And what of the Bush Administration? Is it not a sin to lie to bring a nation to war, subsequently killing thousands of Americans and Iraqis, including innocent civilians?
Shouldn’t good Christians worry about clear moral problems, such as wrongfully executed citizens? Or that America is one of only three countries that executes children (the others are Iran and Pakistan)?
The bishops are trying to prevent thinking. No one is FOR abortion, only whether choice should be legislated. And the bishops don’t have a very good record obeying the law anyway. If the sanctity of life is truly important to them, how about saving newborns in China drowned because they’re female? How about saving thousands of innocent people from ethnic slaughter in Rwanda and the Sudan? How about saving millions of African children who die each year from diarrhea? Unfortunately, the key issue seems to be winning, ego, not the sanctity of life. Look at the rhetoric about Iraq--the Bush administration doesn't talk about peace or success, but winning and losing.
That Republicans embraced such end runs around thinking is also telling. The Republican National Convention stressed that “A vote for Bush is a vote for God,” perhaps the most sickening and baldly disingenuous statement to come from politics. Thankfully voters had enough and sent Republicans the message they deserved, that Americans think for themselves, and showed such outrageous Republicans the door. Maybe they should do the same for a few clergy.
If not, Americans won’t have to fear Islamic Fundamentalists--Christian Fundamentalists seem ready to do the job for them. After Osama bin Laden responded to the 9/11 attacks with “Not me, but thank Allah,” the Rev. Jerry Falwell added “I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the A.C.L.U., People for the American Way--all of them who have tried to secularize America--I point the finger in their face and say, ‘You helped this happen.’”
Matthew 25:31-46 explains that when the Son of Man comes in His glory, He will separate the sheep (those destined for heaven) from the goats, based on how each responded when the Lord was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, or in prison. They will ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, or in prison?” The Lord will reply, “Whenever you did this to (for) the least of my brothers, you did it to (for) me.”
Quite a few bishops may be in the goat line.
Writer
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