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Wednesday, June 15, 2005 |
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So it's like this: the physiologist does a full abdominal ultrasound, and then phones my doctor, and says, It's the weirdest thing. When she takes a deep breath, her inferior vena cava completely collapses. Then my doctor phones me and says, You know, it turns out you have a very interesting problem... So, yay--no tumors, no heart attacks; boo--what they hell do I do about it except keep swelling up from the sternum downward until I'm a giant elephant? (Well, my Aunt Judi says only to exhale...) It's good to know the source of all my physiological complaints for the last thirty years. Now if I want to accomplish anything in the next thirty years (and I insist on it), we have to figure out what can be done. Because for now, until we know more, the only thing anyone can tell me is to lie down. All the time. And if I have to work hard, then work a little while, lie down for an hour, work a little more. Don't get me wrong, no one's a greater fan of lying down than I am (and now I know why). But, you know, there is a limit.
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"Be alert to the natural tendencies to bias misperceptions, misjudgments, and stereotyped thinking. Commonly occurring in both students during heated conflict, these errors in perception and thought interfere with communication, make empathy difficult, and impair problem solving. Errors include either-or thinking, demonizing the other, shortening one's time-perspective, narrowing the range of perceived options, and making the fundamental attribution error. The fundamental attribution error is illustrated by the tendency to attribute the aggressive actions of the other student to that student's personality while attributing personal aggressive actions to external circumstances (such as the other student's hostile actions). The ability to recognize and admit misperceptions and misjudgments clears the air and facilitates similar acknowledgment by the other student." --from "Cooperation and conflict resolution," Peter T. Coleman and Morton Deutsche, The International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution, Teachers College, Columbia University
"In general, then, it is the policy of demonizing the Other for the sake of one's superior morality and truth that is the classic error leading to such disasters [as the Oklahoma City bombing]. They are chilling instances of the immorality of moralism." "We affirm a religious way of being in the world that is very different from the Manichean view of fundamentalists of whatever stripe, who see the world in black and white, God vs. the Devil, the army of good combating the axis of evil. We, Unitarian Universalist, forgo the comfort and certainty that many find in such a God. The Divine does not choose sides, but is found in the inherent worth in each and the bonds that connect each to all. The challenge then for each of us is to live with the tension of ambiguity rather than pretending certainty is possible. The first battle will be an internal one as you notice your feelings and sift through your ideas. And then, if you're honest, it will end with what my colleague Forrest Church calls the '60% solution.' "'The 60% solution,' he writes, 'is to act on 60% conviction. As for the other 40%... add them to your balance of humility.' You decide, having felt the division within, wrestled with it and thus come to know you may yet be wrong. Your personal struggle is what makes it possible to affirm your own beliefs without demonizing the other. You accept that the other has the right to a different opinion because you've given yourself the same consideration.
"The challenge for us is to act without being fueled by the high octane of moral indignation; which is really about feeling good rather than seeing protest as a way of respectfully sending a message." "What is required is a new kind of group politics: advancing what one considers right while keeping one eye on maintaining the community of which we all are members. "To do so one must fight without demonizing the other side, pushing all the emotional buttons one can find, and hitting below the belt. To state that all men are 'fascist pigs' or 'potential rapists' out to humiliate and exploit women; that all whites are racists, one can tell by their white skin; or that Jews are slave traders may give one a temporary high but does not make for a good, within-community-bounds, fight.
"It is also certain to mobilize the opposition to the hilt and thus to inhibit, rather than enhance, progress." "It is our job as citizens to hold our government to the ideal of being of the people, for the people, and by the people. This means government must protect us in the ways that we cannot do for ourselves: not too much, but equally not too little. It means understanding that the protections needed in the 21st century may be different from what we started with in the 18th. Our job to maintain our government in integrity is such a matter for continual examination, review and joint action that to get caught up in facile definitions of left and right is to be distracted from doing the work that is at hand. "We as citizens need to recognize that entities with a lot of money and power do influence what we know and how we see ourselves and the issues--as they always have. In recent years, so-called political discussion has devolved into endless, feverish, and completely off-point arguments about what is left and what is right, each side demonizing the other. Let's stand up to this tendency, which even a small amount of self-reflection will show is not productive and not in keeping with the best in us: our best thinking, our best character, our best courage.
"The truth is, a nation, a community, a family, an individual, must practice discipline, self-reliance, and accountability at the same time that it provides protection, understanding, and a helping hand. If the right tends more easily to one of these positions, the left to the other, so be it. Not one person in this country is without the knowledge of both of these points of view, so let's stop pretending we can't hear each other. Let's stop throwing labels around, stop being afraid of each other, and accept the validity of both responsibility and compassion. Our nation will not be strong and whole until we stop allowing ourselves to be divided, and face with wisdom, tolerance and patience the real issues that need to be solved. "
Et cetera. |
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I love the first bit about the new moon, and even with all the "yon"s and "hence"s I think it's a remarkable poem by my totem Romantic Poet. Dejection: An Ode by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms; And I fear, I fear, my Master dear! We shall have a deadly storm. (Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence) I Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence, This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes, Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes Upon the strings of this Aeolian lute, Which better far were mute. For lo! the New-moon winter-bright! And overspread with phantom light, (With swimming phantom light o'erspread But rimmed and circled by a silver thread) I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling The coming-on of rain and squally blast. And oh! that even now the gust were swelling, And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed, And sent my soul abroad, Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give, Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! II A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet, no relief, In word, or sigh, or tear-- O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, To other thoughts by yonder throstle wooed, All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green: And still I gaze - and with how blank an eye! And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, That give away their motion to the stars; Those stars, that glide behind them or between, Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen: Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; I see them all so excellently fair I see, not feel, how beautiful they are! III My genial spirits fail; And what can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? It were a vain endeavour, Though I should gaze forever On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. IV O Lady! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live: Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud! And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth-- And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element! V O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me What this strong music in the soul may be! What, and wherein it doth exist, This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, This beautiful and beauty-making power. Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given, Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power, Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower A new Earth and new Heaven, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud-- Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud-- We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light. VI There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: For hope grew round me, like the twining vine, And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine. But now afflictions bow me down to earth: Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth; But oh! each visitation Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, My shaping spirit of Imagination. For not to think of what I needs must feel, But to be still and patient, all I can; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man-- This was my sole resource, my only plan: Till that which suits a part infects the whole, And now is almost grown the habit of my soul. VII Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind, Reality's dark dream! I turn from you, and listen to the wind, Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream Of agony by torture lengthened out That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav'st without, Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree, Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb, Or lonely house, long held the witches' home, Methinks were fitter instruments for thee, Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers, Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers, Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song, The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among. Thou actor, perfect in all tragic sounds! Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold! What tell'st thou now about? 'Tis of the rushing of an host in rout, With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds-- At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold! But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence! And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd, With groans, and tremulous shudderings - all is over-- It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud! A tale of less affright, And tempered with delight, As Otway's self had framed the tender lay,-- 'Tis of a little child Upon a lonesome wild, Nor far from home, but she hath lost her way: And now moans low in bitter grief and fear, And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear. VIII 'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep: Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep! Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing, And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth! With light heart may she rise, Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice; To her may all things live, from pole to pole, Their life the eddying of her living soul! O simple spirit, guided from above, Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice, Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice. 4:50:48 PM  comment []
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Today, some mowing, some errands. Pins & needles waiting for a doctor to phone and tell me what's going on. The physiologist was way too mysterious yesterday. Nothing serious, I think, but a definite explanation for all this has been arrived at thanks to ultrasounding me from sternum to ankles. From her questions I got the impression that my long-ago pregnancies (slender young thing that I was) have left my innards in kind of a mess. This would explain a _lot_. Right now I'm stuffing my face with buttermilk pancakes and hot coffee (my first coffee in a couple of weeks, but how can you eat pancakes without it?) and getting ready to make a quick trip to Alturas. Mmmm, that maple syrup.
I'll bet we pass 80 degrees today. Llamas are loving their wallows. You should see them rolling around with their feet in the air in a cloud of dust! |
