(I wrote this for the December 2008 newsletter of my church, Plymouth UCC.)
I have everything
Nothing do I lack
All I give comes back
--sung to the tune of “Ego Sum Pauper”
I learned these alternative lyrics from a woman steeped in feminist, Earth-centered spirituality. I sing it to myself as a reminder of our interconnection and interdependence with other beings. I sing it to remember that nothing is ever lost or gained, but part of an infinite cycle of regeneration.
But do I really believe it? Can I truly give as the Earth does, ever recycling and renewing? Can I give as Jesus does, confident that there will be enough loaves and fishes for all? Can I give as Jesus asks us to in Matthew 25: clothing, feeding, and nurturing all those in need?
Too often, I proceed from a sense of scarcity rather than abundance. I want to hunker down and protect my own rather than share my resources. After all, how can I be sure my own needs and the needs of my family will be met if I don’t hoard and scrimp? Can I continue to pledge to the church, keep up community donations, and do volunteer work? Perhaps this is the year to cut back on both spending money and giving time.
I pray that, in economically troubled times like these, God will imbue me with the assurance that I can indeed give. I pray for a security that goes deeper than human ability.
Some part of me recognizes that operating from a paradigm of lack only reinforces it. After all, money is meant to circulate—that’s why it’s called currency. It’s meant to flow through me, into action, into the world. What happens if I build a dam of fear instead?
In these times, we are tested in our resolve and faith. The urge to clutch is the signal to let go. I remind myself that generosity is a description of generating, of creating. What can I create if I am tight-fisted? What garden can I grow, what poem can I write, whom can I befriend without a spirit of sharing? “Closed hands: closed minds,” observes my yoga teacher in India, Geeta Iyengar. Closed hearts, as well.
Sometimes I will not have the money to give. But what other resources do I have? An extra room to house someone? Extra clothes? Can I still give my time and energy? Perhaps these gestures mean even more than money. Can I act in a spirit of abundance and share my small loaf of bread and can of tuna?
Divine security manifests as a beloved community. If we recognize our interconnection, giving to another is equivalent to giving to ourselves. Generosity results from the assurance that I will be cared for just as I care for others. Perhaps most importantly, a practice of generosity teaches us how to be gracious recipients. May we all give and receive generously.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
PROTECTING OBAMA FROM HARM THROUGH THE PRACTICE OF YOGA
Yoga is a practice of identifying more with the eternal than the ephemeral.
We begin with the physical body, becoming more aware of the weight on our feet, the asymmetries between right and left sides, and the tightness in our shoulders. We refine ourselves, becoming stronger, more flexible, and more balanced.
We notice our minds, and the chatter it's so difficult to slow down. We start to observe our lapses into negativity and cynicism. We notice how often we become judgmental, and how hard it is to stay in the present moment, as we dig up old hurts or plan for a better future. We take note of our fears and anxieties and deep-rooted insecurities. As we observe ourselves with compassion and detachment, these tendencies loosen their hold on us.
As we work on ourselves, we recognize that who we think we are is ever-changing and, frankly, inconsequential. Angry one second, happy the next; confident one day, the next day crushed. What does it matter? As we practice yoga we identify more with the eternal, universal Self than the temporary, costumed self.
We become more interconnected with the Eternal in all sentient beings as well. We recognize the divine in all life forms, and realize that we are all One. If we are all One, then we are each other. We are manifestations of each other, co-creating the world in which we live.
When we encounter ugliness, hatred, racism, and violence in society, we need to recognize that the perpetrators are basically manifestations of the consciousness we are creating. We ARE the white supremacists fantasizing about assassination. We ARE the young people feeling so disenfranchised they don't bother to form an opinion and vote. We ARE the neglected elderly voting out of fear and lack of information. We have formed them out of our consciousness. We conveniently place them outside of ourselves so we can criticize them and feel smug.
Let me tell you a story. One day, when our kids were tiny, my husband Ed and I were bickering in the kitchen. It was not an extraordinary argument, just a run-of-the-mill disagreement that couples often have, especially under the stress of caring for little ones, etc. We were engrossed in heatedly trying to convince the other that we were right when I looked over at Meiko, who was 3. She reached over to 1 year-old Katja with her hands around her neck. Meiko wasn't actually choking Katja, but she was enacting what she was feeling and witnessing in the kitchen at that moment. Ed and I stopped in our tracks, immediately getting the message.
In the brilliance and spontaneity that children embody, Meiko showed us exactly how youth, being the most emotionally vulnerable in society, will manifest the tension and violence of their environments. Certain people are more sensitive and susceptible than others. We need to thank them, for being the canary in the coalmine, and have compassion for the important roles they are playing in society as our teachers, as we provide means to help them heal from the trauma they are working through.
When we encounter these situations, we must look at ourselves. We have to be brutally honest with ourselves, as yoga teaches us to be. What racial fear or hatred have I buried in myself? What pain am I harboring? What am I afraid of? The more we can work through our own trauma, the less our children and most emotionally vulnerable in our society will act out on our behalf. We must embrace and look at our own shadows, with compassion, nonjudgment, and objectivity.
To protect Barack Obama from harm, each of us must take on this inner work. We are simply microcosms of the macrocosm of society. To create a truly blessed community, we work through the community which is our own body, for the body is an ingenious processor of trauma. By transforming the trauma in our bodies into compassion and love, we will change society. Patanjali states in the yoga sutras that around one who is truly nonviolent, hostilities evaporate.
More love, more Adho Mukha Svanasana.
We begin with the physical body, becoming more aware of the weight on our feet, the asymmetries between right and left sides, and the tightness in our shoulders. We refine ourselves, becoming stronger, more flexible, and more balanced.
We notice our minds, and the chatter it's so difficult to slow down. We start to observe our lapses into negativity and cynicism. We notice how often we become judgmental, and how hard it is to stay in the present moment, as we dig up old hurts or plan for a better future. We take note of our fears and anxieties and deep-rooted insecurities. As we observe ourselves with compassion and detachment, these tendencies loosen their hold on us.
As we work on ourselves, we recognize that who we think we are is ever-changing and, frankly, inconsequential. Angry one second, happy the next; confident one day, the next day crushed. What does it matter? As we practice yoga we identify more with the eternal, universal Self than the temporary, costumed self.
We become more interconnected with the Eternal in all sentient beings as well. We recognize the divine in all life forms, and realize that we are all One. If we are all One, then we are each other. We are manifestations of each other, co-creating the world in which we live.
When we encounter ugliness, hatred, racism, and violence in society, we need to recognize that the perpetrators are basically manifestations of the consciousness we are creating. We ARE the white supremacists fantasizing about assassination. We ARE the young people feeling so disenfranchised they don't bother to form an opinion and vote. We ARE the neglected elderly voting out of fear and lack of information. We have formed them out of our consciousness. We conveniently place them outside of ourselves so we can criticize them and feel smug.
Let me tell you a story. One day, when our kids were tiny, my husband Ed and I were bickering in the kitchen. It was not an extraordinary argument, just a run-of-the-mill disagreement that couples often have, especially under the stress of caring for little ones, etc. We were engrossed in heatedly trying to convince the other that we were right when I looked over at Meiko, who was 3. She reached over to 1 year-old Katja with her hands around her neck. Meiko wasn't actually choking Katja, but she was enacting what she was feeling and witnessing in the kitchen at that moment. Ed and I stopped in our tracks, immediately getting the message.
In the brilliance and spontaneity that children embody, Meiko showed us exactly how youth, being the most emotionally vulnerable in society, will manifest the tension and violence of their environments. Certain people are more sensitive and susceptible than others. We need to thank them, for being the canary in the coalmine, and have compassion for the important roles they are playing in society as our teachers, as we provide means to help them heal from the trauma they are working through.
When we encounter these situations, we must look at ourselves. We have to be brutally honest with ourselves, as yoga teaches us to be. What racial fear or hatred have I buried in myself? What pain am I harboring? What am I afraid of? The more we can work through our own trauma, the less our children and most emotionally vulnerable in our society will act out on our behalf. We must embrace and look at our own shadows, with compassion, nonjudgment, and objectivity.
To protect Barack Obama from harm, each of us must take on this inner work. We are simply microcosms of the macrocosm of society. To create a truly blessed community, we work through the community which is our own body, for the body is an ingenious processor of trauma. By transforming the trauma in our bodies into compassion and love, we will change society. Patanjali states in the yoga sutras that around one who is truly nonviolent, hostilities evaporate.
More love, more Adho Mukha Svanasana.
Pay-to-Behave
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95949912&sc=emaf
Did you hear this story on NPR?
The fact is that middle and upper class folks have always rewarded their children for doing well, with allowance, gifts, privileges, and more. And these kids have always understood that doing well in school = college = skills and opportunities = meaningful career. If you come from a family that does not embrace that value system because it was never accessible to them, should you be shortchanged? If you have an overworked, overwhelmed single mom who never had the chance to go to college and is in debt, who's going to reward you for that hard-earned A? Who's going to take you out to dinner? I say let's give the program a try. Give a sliver of that $12,000/kid that goes to school systems to the kid.
I teach in a women’s college with many nontraditional students who are working full-time, single parenting, and going to school. They should get paid for the huge sacrifice they are making! On the other hand, my 2 college student daughters can focus exclusively on school, because my husband and I are paying their tuitions. Essentially we “pay” them for concentrating on their studies.
On another level, paying kids for performance in school is a form of reparations. This NPR story is about a predominantly African American school. As a nation, we are in debt to populations who were historically and institutionally deprived of rights. We can't pay the victims, but what if we gave that money to their children? Too late to do this? Give it to the current generation.
This reminds me of the debate on the current government bail-out of Wall Street. What if instead of 700 billion to the banks, we gave that money to the people in foreclosure themselves? What if we gave it to those who have the least instead of those who have the most, as Howard Zinn suggests? (http://www.thenation.com/doc/20081027/zinn)
What if we paid the kids instead of throwing more money at the system? What if we paid the slaves instead of the foremen and plantation owners? Of course we need to support the public school administrators and teachers, and not just "bribe" kids. But why not do both? The "bribe" is basically a way of developing will and establishing new habits.
If parents are not teaching these skills for whatever reasons, the school needs to step in. Geoffrey Canada demonstrates at Harlem Children's Zone that if poor kids are given the same opportunities middle class kids have always had, they can succeed as well. Listen to the interview with him on This American Life at http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=364.
I am frankly tired of people of privilege denying poor people the rights the middle and upper classes have always had.
Did you hear this story on NPR?
The fact is that middle and upper class folks have always rewarded their children for doing well, with allowance, gifts, privileges, and more. And these kids have always understood that doing well in school = college = skills and opportunities = meaningful career. If you come from a family that does not embrace that value system because it was never accessible to them, should you be shortchanged? If you have an overworked, overwhelmed single mom who never had the chance to go to college and is in debt, who's going to reward you for that hard-earned A? Who's going to take you out to dinner? I say let's give the program a try. Give a sliver of that $12,000/kid that goes to school systems to the kid.
I teach in a women’s college with many nontraditional students who are working full-time, single parenting, and going to school. They should get paid for the huge sacrifice they are making! On the other hand, my 2 college student daughters can focus exclusively on school, because my husband and I are paying their tuitions. Essentially we “pay” them for concentrating on their studies.
On another level, paying kids for performance in school is a form of reparations. This NPR story is about a predominantly African American school. As a nation, we are in debt to populations who were historically and institutionally deprived of rights. We can't pay the victims, but what if we gave that money to their children? Too late to do this? Give it to the current generation.
This reminds me of the debate on the current government bail-out of Wall Street. What if instead of 700 billion to the banks, we gave that money to the people in foreclosure themselves? What if we gave it to those who have the least instead of those who have the most, as Howard Zinn suggests? (http://www.thenation.com/doc/20081027/zinn)
What if we paid the kids instead of throwing more money at the system? What if we paid the slaves instead of the foremen and plantation owners? Of course we need to support the public school administrators and teachers, and not just "bribe" kids. But why not do both? The "bribe" is basically a way of developing will and establishing new habits.
If parents are not teaching these skills for whatever reasons, the school needs to step in. Geoffrey Canada demonstrates at Harlem Children's Zone that if poor kids are given the same opportunities middle class kids have always had, they can succeed as well. Listen to the interview with him on This American Life at http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=364.
I am frankly tired of people of privilege denying poor people the rights the middle and upper classes have always had.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
REVITALIZED BUFFALO
I just want to correct my prior assumption that the city of Buffalo was a relic. I drove around yesterday and visited Hallwalls in their new building on Delaware Avenue, popped in at Righteous Babe records, and found an amazing used bookstore on Allen Street, off of Elmwood, called Rust Belt Books. I could've spent all day tromping up and down Elmwood Avenue. It's good to see the young people on their bikes, and lots of rehabbed turn-of-the-century houses, fliers for concerts and plays and poetry readings, and other signs of a vital community. It was like Williamsburg, except lots cheaper. Glad to see people are still moving into Buffalo!
Monday, May 12, 2008
I'm writing this from a motel room in Amherst, NY, where I've come for my dad's memorial lecture by some guy from Harvard (title: "A History of Vasopressin-Induced Water Flow in Transporting Epithelia"--I have to attend but I'm bringing a book). I just got back from a so-so Indian dinner by myself in a strip mall, and after that I went for a drive to see our old digs.
I feel very tenderly toward suburban Buffalo now, as conflicted as I was growing up here. Nine years after my dad's death, and seven years after my mom, practically every street holds memories. I feel like I'm surrounded by ghosts: images of my mom and dad and brother John (who died at 25), memories of growing up here, and even my kids as babies and little ones are here. I parked the car near Mom's house and walked around the neighborhood. Everyone had those awful yellow pesticide signs on their weed-free lawns. Like Milwaukee, everyone was out, eager to take advantage of the 60s temperature.
When I look at Mom's and Dad's old house on Deer Ridge, I remember all those summers we drove up. I remember my mom ingratiating herself to her neighbor with the swimming pool so that our kids could swim over there. I remember my dad in his dementia letting himself into the house next door and sitting down to watch the Buffalo Bills. I actually walked up to my parents' house and rang the bell. The house was dark and I suspected no one was home, which was why I had the courage to go up and ring. From inside a dog barked, but no one answered. Knowing no one was home, I felt a little freer to walk around the house, peek into the back yard, etc. So many stories and memories flooded back. One year we had a clown birthday party for Meiko in the back yard. My mom met her at some church meeting or something, an older white lady, who it turned out did clowning on the side.
I drove up to the middle school and high school, then to the house on Robinhill where we grew up. I tried to find my best friends' houses but I could not recognize them. All the old people have moved out, and it's a whole new slew of young families in these houses. The houses have been re-sided and remodeled beyond recognition.
I sort of understand why people stay in Shorewood for so long and even come back. Especially when your loved ones pass away, geography takes on a resonance that is almost unbearably tender. Who would think those subdivisions could elicit real emotion even in me?
Also, at our last two salons, we've been discussing race, and I'm having all these flashbacks about my racial coming-of-age, so to speak, when we moved to Buffalo and became minorities for the first time. There's Jane L's house, the only other Asian girl at Heim Middle, whose mother, it was rumored, was a Jehovah's witness and crazy. There's Linda W's house, where I went for the birthday party and gave her a green rubber statue of a Chinaman with the caption, "I rov you rots and rots." Which reminds me of the joke Jie-L told in yoga class with the cross-country team: How do Chinese people name their kids? They throw silverware at a wall and name their kid after whatever sound it makes. How easily we take on the attitudes of the dominant culture, or is it a pretense in order to protect ourselves?
What's weird about Buffalo is that now it seems that the suburbs have become Buffalo, and the city itself is a relic. Amherst, Williamsville, Getzville, and Tonawanda ARE Buffalo now. Everyone lives out here. Which is a shame because it's a completely car-dependent culture, and the landscape chemically-dependent. There are tons of malls with gigantic, sprawling, largely empty parking lots. On the positive side, it's become quite racially diverse. Far more people of color everywhere than I remember growing up.
I went to the cemetery today where we have 4 family graves: my brother John, mom and dad, and Caleb, who was my brother's stillborn son. It was maybe the first time I've visited the graves alone, and it took me a little while to find them. There was only 1 other person at the cemetery and I was trying to give her space, but it turned out that she was visiting and tending the grave immediately adjacent our family plot. It seemed a bit intrusive and oddly coincidental to be right next to her as she was weeding and trimming the hedges, so I took a little walk around the cemetery (which also had just been sprayed). I saw and heard robins and red-winged blackbirds, and many other birds I don't know yet. The trees have tiny little leaves--picture little 2-inch oak leaves, so it was relatively easy to spot the birds. After the other visitor left, I sat on John's stone, sang songs, and left stones on each grave, a Jewish tradition, I'm told. It was wonderful to just hang out at the cemetery. Whenever I'm there with others we only stay a few minutes. This time I was able to just be there, feel, remember, and pray.
Tomorrow I see my uncle Waun-ki and brother Robert and go to the university for the festivities.
Basking in the shadows of our former selves,
pkh
I feel very tenderly toward suburban Buffalo now, as conflicted as I was growing up here. Nine years after my dad's death, and seven years after my mom, practically every street holds memories. I feel like I'm surrounded by ghosts: images of my mom and dad and brother John (who died at 25), memories of growing up here, and even my kids as babies and little ones are here. I parked the car near Mom's house and walked around the neighborhood. Everyone had those awful yellow pesticide signs on their weed-free lawns. Like Milwaukee, everyone was out, eager to take advantage of the 60s temperature.
When I look at Mom's and Dad's old house on Deer Ridge, I remember all those summers we drove up. I remember my mom ingratiating herself to her neighbor with the swimming pool so that our kids could swim over there. I remember my dad in his dementia letting himself into the house next door and sitting down to watch the Buffalo Bills. I actually walked up to my parents' house and rang the bell. The house was dark and I suspected no one was home, which was why I had the courage to go up and ring. From inside a dog barked, but no one answered. Knowing no one was home, I felt a little freer to walk around the house, peek into the back yard, etc. So many stories and memories flooded back. One year we had a clown birthday party for Meiko in the back yard. My mom met her at some church meeting or something, an older white lady, who it turned out did clowning on the side.
I drove up to the middle school and high school, then to the house on Robinhill where we grew up. I tried to find my best friends' houses but I could not recognize them. All the old people have moved out, and it's a whole new slew of young families in these houses. The houses have been re-sided and remodeled beyond recognition.
I sort of understand why people stay in Shorewood for so long and even come back. Especially when your loved ones pass away, geography takes on a resonance that is almost unbearably tender. Who would think those subdivisions could elicit real emotion even in me?
Also, at our last two salons, we've been discussing race, and I'm having all these flashbacks about my racial coming-of-age, so to speak, when we moved to Buffalo and became minorities for the first time. There's Jane L's house, the only other Asian girl at Heim Middle, whose mother, it was rumored, was a Jehovah's witness and crazy. There's Linda W's house, where I went for the birthday party and gave her a green rubber statue of a Chinaman with the caption, "I rov you rots and rots." Which reminds me of the joke Jie-L told in yoga class with the cross-country team: How do Chinese people name their kids? They throw silverware at a wall and name their kid after whatever sound it makes. How easily we take on the attitudes of the dominant culture, or is it a pretense in order to protect ourselves?
What's weird about Buffalo is that now it seems that the suburbs have become Buffalo, and the city itself is a relic. Amherst, Williamsville, Getzville, and Tonawanda ARE Buffalo now. Everyone lives out here. Which is a shame because it's a completely car-dependent culture, and the landscape chemically-dependent. There are tons of malls with gigantic, sprawling, largely empty parking lots. On the positive side, it's become quite racially diverse. Far more people of color everywhere than I remember growing up.
I went to the cemetery today where we have 4 family graves: my brother John, mom and dad, and Caleb, who was my brother's stillborn son. It was maybe the first time I've visited the graves alone, and it took me a little while to find them. There was only 1 other person at the cemetery and I was trying to give her space, but it turned out that she was visiting and tending the grave immediately adjacent our family plot. It seemed a bit intrusive and oddly coincidental to be right next to her as she was weeding and trimming the hedges, so I took a little walk around the cemetery (which also had just been sprayed). I saw and heard robins and red-winged blackbirds, and many other birds I don't know yet. The trees have tiny little leaves--picture little 2-inch oak leaves, so it was relatively easy to spot the birds. After the other visitor left, I sat on John's stone, sang songs, and left stones on each grave, a Jewish tradition, I'm told. It was wonderful to just hang out at the cemetery. Whenever I'm there with others we only stay a few minutes. This time I was able to just be there, feel, remember, and pray.
Tomorrow I see my uncle Waun-ki and brother Robert and go to the university for the festivities.
Basking in the shadows of our former selves,
pkh
Thursday, May 8, 2008
MY PLAY IS FINALLY OPENING
COME AND SEE OUR PLAY!!!! RECEPTION OPENING NIGHT AT THE THEATRE! You all know Deb and I have been toiling away on this project for 3 years. It's finally going to be up. Come and see what we've been developing. I hope you will find it edifying, moving, and inspiring. Tell friends! We also invite community groups to table in the lobby, and groups of 10 or more get a 20% discount. Contact Jackie for details. much love and thanks for your continued support--peggy
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
May 7, 2008
Contact Jacqueline Lalley
847-345-4823
smallpieces@invitingpositivechange.com
Women's Voices Bring Iraq War Home in "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven"
MILWAUKEE, WI--In "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven," running June 5-8 at Off-Broadway Theatre, 342 N. Water Street, an ensemble led by Peggy Hong and Deborah Clifton shares the anguish, beauty, humor, and common ground of women in the face of the current Iraq war.
Based on Iraqi women's blogs, memoirs by US military women, and interviews with American civilian women, "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" uses poetry, movement, and performance to explore the Iraq war from the "back lines," where women keep life going. What is the effect of war, on the ground, for ordinary citizens, whether Iraqi or American? How are women in America impacted, far from the battlegrounds of Iraq? Do Americans even remember that we are at war? In a drawn-out war with no end in sight, how do Americans and Iraqis move forward? "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" makes a distant war personal and immediate.
"Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" is an ensemble project led by Deborah Clifton of Theatre X and Peggy Hong, Milwaukee Poet Laureate 2006-2007. The ensemble developed material through an ongoing salon of local women artists meeting for over a year. Contributors and performers include Alexa Bradley, Grace DeWolf, Yvette Mitchell, Rachel Raven Lily Sophia, Mary Lou Lamonda, Dena Aronson, Libby Amato, Maggie Arndt, Megan Kaminski, and Erin DeYoung. Sets by visual artist Fahimeh Vahdat draw attention to social and spiritual issues and draw on her personal experience as an Iranian refugee. Clifton directs the production.
"War dehumanizes us, but this play brings us into intimate contact with full human beings: women living through the war, both civilian and military," says Hong. "Through their stories, we find beauty, humor, anguish and common ground. As we realize our interconnection, we can hopefully move forward."
"Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" plays June 5-8, Thursday and Friday at 7:30 pm, Saturday at 8 pm and Sunday at 2 pm, at Off-Broadway Theatre, 342 N. Water St. Tickets are $20 or $16 for students and groups of 10 or more. To purchase, call 414-278-0765. Previews are June 2-4 at 7:30 pm and are open to the public.
###
Interviews and photos are available; call 847-345-4823 or email: smallpieces@invitingpositivechange.com.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
May 7, 2008
Contact Jacqueline Lalley
847-345-4823
smallpieces@invitingpositivechange.com
Women's Voices Bring Iraq War Home in "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven"
MILWAUKEE, WI--In "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven," running June 5-8 at Off-Broadway Theatre, 342 N. Water Street, an ensemble led by Peggy Hong and Deborah Clifton shares the anguish, beauty, humor, and common ground of women in the face of the current Iraq war.
Based on Iraqi women's blogs, memoirs by US military women, and interviews with American civilian women, "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" uses poetry, movement, and performance to explore the Iraq war from the "back lines," where women keep life going. What is the effect of war, on the ground, for ordinary citizens, whether Iraqi or American? How are women in America impacted, far from the battlegrounds of Iraq? Do Americans even remember that we are at war? In a drawn-out war with no end in sight, how do Americans and Iraqis move forward? "Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" makes a distant war personal and immediate.
"Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" is an ensemble project led by Deborah Clifton of Theatre X and Peggy Hong, Milwaukee Poet Laureate 2006-2007. The ensemble developed material through an ongoing salon of local women artists meeting for over a year. Contributors and performers include Alexa Bradley, Grace DeWolf, Yvette Mitchell, Rachel Raven Lily Sophia, Mary Lou Lamonda, Dena Aronson, Libby Amato, Maggie Arndt, Megan Kaminski, and Erin DeYoung. Sets by visual artist Fahimeh Vahdat draw attention to social and spiritual issues and draw on her personal experience as an Iranian refugee. Clifton directs the production.
"War dehumanizes us, but this play brings us into intimate contact with full human beings: women living through the war, both civilian and military," says Hong. "Through their stories, we find beauty, humor, anguish and common ground. As we realize our interconnection, we can hopefully move forward."
"Small Pieces Fly to Heaven" plays June 5-8, Thursday and Friday at 7:30 pm, Saturday at 8 pm and Sunday at 2 pm, at Off-Broadway Theatre, 342 N. Water St. Tickets are $20 or $16 for students and groups of 10 or more. To purchase, call 414-278-0765. Previews are June 2-4 at 7:30 pm and are open to the public.
###
Interviews and photos are available; call 847-345-4823 or email: smallpieces@invitingpositivechange.com.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
WRIGHT, OBAMA, AND YOU AND ME
I cried yesterday, as I heard Obama denounce his pastor. His story seems to be unfolding like an epic Greek drama.
For this man who was abandoned by his Kenyan father to be forced to throw his spiritual father under the bus (as they most unpleasantly say) broke my heart. And for Wright, who loves Obama, to be pushed under, hurts as well.
Even more so, Obama’s press conference on Tuesday, April 29, sounded to me like a rejection of the progressive social justice platform altogether. Frankly, I felt personally rejected, as a woman of color with radical leanings, tossed under the bus along with Wright. Bounce, thud.
What does it take for a black man to be elected president of the US? What must he compromise? Is it worth the price? How can he assuage the mainstream while sincerely working for change? Can he have it both ways?
Now I am under no illusion that Barack Obama is a progressive. His voting record in the Senate is to the right of Hillary Clinton’s. Still, I voted for him because he represents the strongest potential for changing politics-as-usual.
The fact is, Jeremiah Wright, Jr. speaks my mind more closely than Obama does. I will do my own research on HIV on African Americans, but aside from this comment, I agree 100% with everything I’ve heard over the past years, months, and days.
None of our major 3 candidates addresses the elephant in the living room: the American empire. None address the problem of the corporate-run media, not to mention the corporate-run war and the corporate-run US Congress. None challenge the basic power structure of this nation.
We need both the Jeremiahs and the Obamas. We need to acknowledge the dark: the reality of racism, sexism, and oppression still alive in America. And we need to embrace the light: to believe in change, to have something to hope for, and to work tirelessly toward our brightest potential.
John Nichols wrote the most refreshing commentary on the topic at http://www.thenation.com/blogs/thebeat/316575 . He blames the mainstream media for creating this debacle and for victimizing Wright. But I would go a step further. The MSM is only one result of our nation concentrating wealth and power in fewer and fewer hands.
We are in the waning days of capitalism. The great experiment found fruitful ground in the USA, and we’ve carried it to an unprecedented extreme, making profit from everything from education to water to airwaves to health care, and most painfully, war.
So where do we go from here? I’m a yoga practitioner—I have to practice optimism!
Howard Zinn reminds us that electoral politics is only a fraction of our responsibility as citizens at http://www.progressive.org/mag_zinn0308. Jesse Jackson reminds us that real change comes from a combination of litigation, legislation, and demonstration. [http://www.wpr.org/book/080427a.html] He retells a story of Harry Belafonte’s, about civil rights leaders in the 1940s meeting with President Roosevelt, laying out their agenda for equality. FDR told them that he basically agreed with everything they said, and instructed them, “now go out and make me do it.” Real change has to come from the people. We fortify and center ourselves through yoga practice so that we can creatively and effectively speak truth to power.
We can’t wait around for Obama or any other candidate to catch up with us. We can’t ask a retired pastor to be our bull-horn. We have to agitate, motivate, push and pull, and stand up for justice. Individually we can turn off our TVs, dig in our gardens, ride our bikes, reduce consumption, and increase community. I’m with Wright: whomever is elected, on November 5th, we have to be right there, demanding justice.
Now let me get out from under this bus….enough already.
For this man who was abandoned by his Kenyan father to be forced to throw his spiritual father under the bus (as they most unpleasantly say) broke my heart. And for Wright, who loves Obama, to be pushed under, hurts as well.
Even more so, Obama’s press conference on Tuesday, April 29, sounded to me like a rejection of the progressive social justice platform altogether. Frankly, I felt personally rejected, as a woman of color with radical leanings, tossed under the bus along with Wright. Bounce, thud.
What does it take for a black man to be elected president of the US? What must he compromise? Is it worth the price? How can he assuage the mainstream while sincerely working for change? Can he have it both ways?
Now I am under no illusion that Barack Obama is a progressive. His voting record in the Senate is to the right of Hillary Clinton’s. Still, I voted for him because he represents the strongest potential for changing politics-as-usual.
The fact is, Jeremiah Wright, Jr. speaks my mind more closely than Obama does. I will do my own research on HIV on African Americans, but aside from this comment, I agree 100% with everything I’ve heard over the past years, months, and days.
None of our major 3 candidates addresses the elephant in the living room: the American empire. None address the problem of the corporate-run media, not to mention the corporate-run war and the corporate-run US Congress. None challenge the basic power structure of this nation.
We need both the Jeremiahs and the Obamas. We need to acknowledge the dark: the reality of racism, sexism, and oppression still alive in America. And we need to embrace the light: to believe in change, to have something to hope for, and to work tirelessly toward our brightest potential.
John Nichols wrote the most refreshing commentary on the topic at http://www.thenation.com/blogs/thebeat/316575 . He blames the mainstream media for creating this debacle and for victimizing Wright. But I would go a step further. The MSM is only one result of our nation concentrating wealth and power in fewer and fewer hands.
We are in the waning days of capitalism. The great experiment found fruitful ground in the USA, and we’ve carried it to an unprecedented extreme, making profit from everything from education to water to airwaves to health care, and most painfully, war.
So where do we go from here? I’m a yoga practitioner—I have to practice optimism!
Howard Zinn reminds us that electoral politics is only a fraction of our responsibility as citizens at http://www.progressive.org/mag_zinn0308. Jesse Jackson reminds us that real change comes from a combination of litigation, legislation, and demonstration. [http://www.wpr.org/book/080427a.html] He retells a story of Harry Belafonte’s, about civil rights leaders in the 1940s meeting with President Roosevelt, laying out their agenda for equality. FDR told them that he basically agreed with everything they said, and instructed them, “now go out and make me do it.” Real change has to come from the people. We fortify and center ourselves through yoga practice so that we can creatively and effectively speak truth to power.
We can’t wait around for Obama or any other candidate to catch up with us. We can’t ask a retired pastor to be our bull-horn. We have to agitate, motivate, push and pull, and stand up for justice. Individually we can turn off our TVs, dig in our gardens, ride our bikes, reduce consumption, and increase community. I’m with Wright: whomever is elected, on November 5th, we have to be right there, demanding justice.
Now let me get out from under this bus….enough already.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)