The Human Cost of War

As I drove to town this morning I was stunned to see a display of white and red flags completely covering the lawns of Southern Oregon University. They stretched out for blocks! A small sign said Iraq War Memorial.

I stopped and talked with some folks at a table on one of the lawns. The exhibit is traveling throughout the country to demonstrate, visually, the cost in lives in Iraq since 2003. Each red flag stands for 5 American deaths. Each white flag stands for at least 5 Iraqi civilian deaths due to the conflict.
The project is called the Iraq Body Count Exhibit. I plan to come over on Saturday to help take down flags. They will then travel to Sacramento where they need 100 volunteers to place flags in front of the California State Capitol for Memorial Day.

Big numbers like 86,000 sort of skid off my brain, but seeing the flags, rows and rows and rows and rows is just heartbreaking.

To learn more about this exhibit or make a donation to help keep it moving, visit iraqbodycountexhibit.org/

Edit: After I wrote this post I found the brochure from the Iraq Body Count Exhibit. They have the number of Iraqi deaths at 655,000 and American deaths 4050. The figure of 86,000 above came from a different site (also informative) www.iraqbodycount.org. They have, obviously, used different sources for determining the number of Iraqi civilian deaths. Whatever the number, it's too many.

Whole Foods - Ashland Style

Like fafner, I am doing my best to make friends with vegetables. I'm planting lettuce and sugar peas along the path to our front door. As soon as I finish writing this post, I'm heading to the kitchen to roast a cauliflower I purchased from Josh and Melissa of Barking Moon Farm. Our local Grower's Market has a number of booths and CSA's similar to theirs. We are blessed here in the Rogue Valley.


Over the past year I've read thousands of words regarding diet and healthy eating. So controversial! Fats, yes or no? Meat, yes or no? Grains, yes or no? But there is some agreement, best summed up by Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto. He says, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." And, I would add, the occasional brownie or lemon bar.

I thought it was so sweet of Lydia (comment in last post) to wonder if I was having too much fun to post or was in too much pain. I didn't quite realize that when Spring blew in, blogging would become something I should do rather than something I love doing. I'm not keeping up reading my favorite blogs (see blog roll for some great suggestions) and even find myself skipping The Elder Storyteller's Place to head outdoors. But I'll be posting irradically. If you want to catch the occasional blurb, you can subscribe for e-mail updates. The form is in the sidebar.

Blessings,
Sharry

Big News at the Bottom of This Post

I do get it about memes. I get tagged and I tag 5 more. It’s a great way to network. However, I don't like tagging others. Call me churlish (or shy). I recently was tagged for two memes. The first came from Mismell. Her answers are here. Read mine below.

4 places I’ve been:
Paris (Yes!)
North Uist, Outer Hebrides, Scotland
Kerens, Texas (home of mygrandparents)
The Big Island, Hawaii

4 jobs I’ve had:
Mother (covers a wide territory of duties: job description would take a page) Present activity mostly includes listening and trusting.
High School teacher/counselor (23 years)
Creative movement for kids (a few session s, years and years ago--lots of fun!)
SoulCollage Facilitator (current)

4 shows I tivo:
Zip. Television is barely on my radar.

4 favorite foods:
Brownies, fudgey is best.
Lemon bars with ginger made by Lauri
Apple crisp made by my daughter, Sally.
My mom's peach ice cream.

I was also tagged by Alice, of My Wintersong, to write a 6 word memoir. Easy. It's the tagline to my blog: Sharry’s my name - Connection’s my game

Alice’s memoir is here. It was fun to answer these. If you'd like to play, consider yourself tagged!

Here's the BIG NEWS:
I got a lovely e-mail from Emily Lunday Garrett. The story of my contacting her is here. She appreciated hearing from me after so long. Her health is shaky, but her spirit is standing tall and strong. It was a joy to make that connection. I feel blessed.

My Body Says "Quiet"

I arrived home from the Embodied Life retreat with a very sharp pain in my mid-back. It turns out some ribs had gone awry. I've spent the last two weeks mostly lying on my back and breathing consciously. Sort of like meditating all day, interspersed with naps. Apparently something in me was not ready to return to hecticity.

While at Santa Sabina I discovered a poem that delighted me. It’s from a book of poems by Kenneth Koch called New Addresses. The poem is To My Twenties.

To My Twenties

How lucky I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman—
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine-or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another—and water!
I’m still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X_____N_____, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.

Yes, each decade has its own charm, doesn’t it? Maybe even its own personality. My own twenties didn’t have nearly so many exclamation marks. I was married and raising two kids! (Wait, there’s an exclamation mark right there!)

I'm still pondering why this poem grabbed me as it did. Something about that twenty year old, that thirty year old, that (you get the idea) past me still operating in the present me. Plus wondering what I'd say to my twenties. Could we finally just sit down and talk?

This Pandora's Box Has Nothing But Gifts

I should be packing. I"m Traveling tomorrow with my friend Sheila to beautiful Santa Sabina for the second installment of the Embodied Life Mentorship Program. Lucky me!

However I can’t drag myself away from my computer because I’ve just discovered a great place to play. Pandora! Have you been there yet? An Internet radio station that plays your kind of music. I can safely make that bold statement because, whatever your likes in music, you’ll find it at Pandora. It’s soooo interactive. That’s why I’m hooked, of course.

It is the outgrowth of the Music Genome Project. This from their website:

Each song in the Music Genome Project is analyzed using up to 400 distinct musical characteristics by a trained music analyst. These attributes capture not only the musical identity of a song, but also the many significant qualities that are relevant to understanding the musical preferences of listeners. The typical music analyst working on the Music Genome Project has a four-year degree in music theory, composition or performance, has passed through a selective screening process and has completed intensive training in the Music Genome's rigorous and precise methodology....

I haven’t had time to explore fully, but the short story is that you choose a favorite song or artist, and Pandora (which means “all gifted” in Greek) plays a similar song or a selection by the artist. They give you a quick explanation of the musical components of your choice and then proceed to choose other songs based on your original selection. Right now I’m listening to Jennifer Berezan’s Returning. And, while I put my clothes into the suitcase, I'll be gifted by Pandora with more of that same vibe. They even give you the rundown on what that vibe is. For example: Fado, by Clannad, has folk roots, new age influence, a subtle use of vocal harmony, etc.

When I've had enough beautiful, mellow, folk-like harmonies, I'll go back and plug in Born to Run.

Memed

Wendy at COPD-Caregiving Is NOT For Wimps! tagged me for a meme. That means I'm suposed to answer some questions about myself.

If you could do anything you want to, what would it be?
If you could paint the (whole) world one color what would it be?
Would you rather be an animal or a person?
If you said animal, which one?
Add your own question.

1. If I could do anything I wanted, I would effectively persuade the United States Government to stop all torture of prisoners and refuse to participate in extradition. Mother Jones showed up in my mailbox today, the whole issue on torture by the USA. I hang my head in sadness over our conduct.

2. I'd paint the world the color of sunlight. Except at night.

3. I'd rather be a person. A person who knows she is an animal and treats her body accordingly. This morning I was thinking my body would probably like to be taken out for a walk, every day.

4. If I were to be an animal, I'd like to be Luna, my cat. Just for a few days. Then I could return to myself and understand her better. You know, like in those movies where the moms and daughters switch roles.

5. My question: If you could give someone a single book, excluding religious texts, to help them with their life, what would it be? A few years back I gave both my kids a book called A Life of One's Own by Joanna Field. I don't believe either of them has read it.

Edit: Wendy commented with the reminder that I was supposed to tag 5 others as part of this meme. OK. OK. (for some reason I feel a bit shy about doing it) I tag Fran at Sacred Ordinary, Cheryl of Art In Everyday, Marianne at Busha Full of Grace, Elaine at Miss Elaine-ous Life, and Taru at Powerful Aging. These are all wonderful women with diverse styles. Check them out.

Love Is In the Air

Today is our Anniversary! Sam and I got engaged 11 years ago. We got married 3 years ago. This SoulCollage card can't begin to capture his quirky personality, but it does show his big loves: spirituality, biking, music, photography, and Luna (our cat). To those loves I better add myself, his kids, his sister and brother, my family, his ex-wife, all our friends, the biking buddies, cats and dogs, trees. He does catch and release for spiders and winces when I cut flowers. He's got a huge heart.

Hugs and kisses, Sam. And hugs and kisses to all you friends and family that make our life rich with support and friendship.

Happy Valentine's Day to all readers of this blog. May love flow in your life today and every day.

Blessings,
Sharry

Surprise!

I got a phone call today. It was Jim LeCroy, a fellow graduate of Arlington Heights High School, class of 1959. He had news for me. Good news. Long story short: he had found out the whereabouts of Emily Lunday, my former journalism teacher. I wrote recently on my other blog, SoulCollage talkabout, about what Mrs. Lunday meant to me. What I didn’t say was that I was making a very serious effort to find her.

Of course I started with Google. Nothing. I called the Fort Worth (Texas) school district; they couldn’t tell me anything without a social security number. I joined Net Detective (a complete bust - they don't even have me). I knew my best hope was former students of hers; she was really a wonderful mentor. So I began asking the few folks I still knew in Fort Worth. My friend, Kaye D. Thornton, had worked under her and was good at keeping up with people. Kaye put me in touch with Jim who recently had dinner with Bill Adams who was also looking for Mrs. Lunday and had some information. Her name is now Emily Lunday Garrett. With that name, Google came through. Ms. Garrett was honored (in 2004) for starting Women in New Roles at Tarrant County College back in 1978. Bill even had an address for her.

Emily Lunday Garrett probably doesn’t remember me. Forty-nine years is a long time. But not too long to say, “I remember you. You really made a difference in my life. Thank you."

That letter is in the mail!

Edit: To see a follow-up of this post see post March 30, 2008

You Don't Have to be Good at This

Meditation, that is. That’s what my teacher, Russell Delman, says. “You don’t have to be good at this. At a deep level meditation is already here.”

I sit in meditation almost every day. Usually just before daylight. Twenty minutes sitting, ten minutes walking, five minutes sitting. It’s a mini version of what we do during the Embodied Life retreats. Sometimes I start reading e-mail and then a few blogs and then make some comments on those blogs and then Sam gets up and I sit for ten minutes or not at all. Consistency is more important than a marathon once a week, but there are really no rules. Today I noticed I was thinking about what to say in this post. But my breath was still there and, eventually, I remembered. The breath is really dependable.

I used to feel like sitting meditation was a digression from my real life: reading, fixing breakfast, walking to the gym, checking the movie reviews, etc. Recently I’m beginning to recognize that sitting and noticing my breath are also real life. Perhaps even more real because I know I’m doing it. That’s called “mindfulness” and after years of sporadic practice, I’m beginning to notice when I’m noticing. Not much to brag about, but I’m satisfied.

I revere Russell. He is a kind and astute teacher. Wise and funny. The SoulCollage card pictured is made to honor him and his teaching. His CD’s offer both guided meditation and Feldenkrais movement instruction.

Another site I recommend is Life is Round – a visual delight. They feature mediation instruction that reflects the idea: the media is the message.

To see a fab SoulCollage card made by my friend Leslie visit SoulCollage talkabout.

Woe Is Me

This is the kind of blog post I vowed never to write. A list of woes is quite uninteresting for folks who have their own troubles thank you very much. So why am I doing it anyway? Because it’s the truth of the moment. Sometimes I forget I am (according to all the spiritual traditions that make sense to me) much bigger than this little, isolated, finite self. This week I’ve felt small. I’ll bullet the complaint list so one may skim.

• I have a cold and my head feels like it's full of, well, what it is full of.


• the Democratic primary contenders are bad mouthing each other


• the Asian market are dropping now too!
  
• I'm reading about people losing their homes and losing their jobs and moving in with their parents, guys in their 40's and 50's


• it's cold out (duh!)


• the usual violence is occurring hither and yon


• Sam, my beloved, is scheduled for radiation on his prostate tumor sometime very soon

I'm sure it's the last that is contributing the most to my heart-heavy outlook. I belong to an e-mail list of prostate warriors. Last week two reports came in from men who had very serious symptoms from their radiation series. Statistically this likelyhood is low, but hearing actual stories is haunting. I worried a lot before Sam began his ADT (androgen deprivation therapy). If you don't count the high blood pressure that has resulted, he has weathered his "therapy" pretty well. His attitude and mood have remained up-beat even as his strength and libido have waned. He is still taking 40 mile bike rides and spinning twice a week. What a guy!

So the truth is that my bleak mood is fingering every negative issue. It's not the markets or the elections or even my aching head; it's my inability to control the outcome of Sam's treatment. Good to know. Thanks for listening.

There are a lot of resources for men (and their wives) regarding prostate issues. Here are a couple: Us Too and Prostate Cancer Research Institute

Books, Not Bombs

I am reading Three Cups of Tea. It is the story of how Greg Mortenson built a school in Korphe, Pakistan, a hamlet at the foot of the Karakoram mountain range. Dr. Greg (as the villagers call him) isn’t wealthy, nor did he have academic degrees. He is just your average Joe. Okay, your average Joe with the will, stamina, and desire to make it almost to the top of K2. Still, what Mortenson did, and is still doing with his Central Asia Institute, is a reminder that individuals can make a huge difference.

I felt inspired reading this book. Inspired to do what I can. To trust that, even though my contributions may not be big, they could be essential and life giving. In fact it reminded me to find and reread a precious memento from my high school teaching days, a stapled bundle of papers handwritten on lined notebook paper. By today’s glitzy presentation standards it is rather humble—but it means a lot to me. Senior Becky Goff summarizes what she learned in my class. This is Becky's final paragraph:

I have always thought that one person could not make a difference in the world, so why try? But this class stresses personal individuality and I have learned that I am as important as everybody else. As my opinion of myself altered, I felt better and more self-assured. So if I had to narrow down all the positive aspects of this class to the most important, it would be my individual gain to becoming a more independent person.

Global Studies Summary, per. 7, Nov. 1, 1988

If I were still teaching Global Studies today, Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin would be the perfect textbook. We would learn of the wisdom of Haji Ali, nurmadhar of Korphe village. We would learn of the dreams of his granddaughter, Jahan, to become a doctor. We would take in the stark beauty of the mountains and the challenges of crossing the wild Braldu River in only a hand cart. We would learn of Muslim hospitality and the great value placed on friendship.

A country, Pakistan, known mostly through lurid headlines, becomes a place not nearly so different from our own. Many customs differ, of course, but our desire to see our children safe and educated is identical. Mortenson believes the war on terror will be won by books, not bombs. I believe him.

The Call: To A Year of Living Dangerously

At Costco I flipped through The Daring Book for Girls parked right there beside The Dangerous Book for Boys. These books are all about knowing how to do stuff - using a compass, sewing on buttons - things like that. They invite kids to an acoustic life. Hands on. And they must have got me thinking.

I made the SoulCollage card (pictured left) just before the Winter Solstice. It’s entitled The Call. "Called to what?" I’ve wondered. This morning I woke with the sense that I was called to a year of living dangerously*, but I doubt I’ll be heading off to Indonesia. I think my dangerous life includes a component described in the books above, a willingness to engage with life, not as a consumer, but as a learner, with all the floundering and failure learning implies.

Failure makes me very nervous. I was never angrier with my sister, Barrie, than when she entered a swim meet at The Club and came in dead last. Buying a book and reading it is safe. Working on a project that matters could be a real mess. A friend once hurt my feelings. I told him I was scared to write, and he said, “You are afraid to find out you aren’t as good as you think you are.” Blunt, maybe, but accurate.

So I’m ready to live dangerously. Just being myself (in whatever floundering way that can happen). Risking that I will be accepted and loved anyway. Risking that wobbling and a few falls are worth it to learn to write a story or bake bread or whatever else Life calls me to. The Velveteen Rabbit had it right, being Real is not for sissies.

Blessings, Dear Reader, for a creative, perhaps daring, 2008.

* Homage to that great Peter Weir movie of the same name. Remember? Sigourney Weaver, Mel Gibson, Linda Hunt.

Intrigued by SoulCollage? See more at SoulCollage talkabout.

Blessings

I felt uplifted reading Al Gore's Nobel Prize acceptance speech this week. As my friend, Nancy, said, "He has moral courage and integrity."

Gore ended his speech with these inspiring words: We have everything we need to get started, save perhaps political will, but political will is a renewable resource. So let us renew it, and say together: We have a purpose. We are many. For this purpose we will rise, and we will act." Full speech here.

Two other blessings hit the news this week:
1) The United States will cooperate more fully with the world community to deal with climate changes.
2) The United States Senate passes an energy bill with some teeth still in it.

And that's not all! I'm getting ready for a visit from my daughter, Sally, and grandchildren, Eli and Evelyn. It is the first time they have been to Oregon for Christmas.

Plus, just this morning, I found a most delightful series of online posts by Maira Kalman The Principles of Uncertainty (also available as a book). A little extra reading gift for myself. And for you, Dear Reader.

So let's celebrate! Ashland is so beautifully lit for the Holy Days. Photo of the Plaza by Sam. And here is a song by the Threshold Choir. It's called Listen. (Click twice.) Relax for 2+ minutes.

This song is from the album Listening at the Threshold .

What Are Old People For? The Book

For some reason I’d put off reading What are Old People For? Perhaps I thought I knew (or had read) it all. Nope. Author and gerontologist, Dr. William Thomas, has added historic perspective I’d never even considered. On page 64, Dr. Thomas says “…old age is the single greatest achievement in the history of human kind.” He goes on to say, “We remember Caesar, not Caesar’s grandmother. But what would Caesar have been if he had been born into a world without elders?” Right on!

In the early chapters of the book Dr. Thomas is making the claim that societies flourished when they became complex enough to include elders. One of the specific elder roles was, and still is, the transmission of culture. A 21st century example is found in the magazine Natural History where Sarah Grey Thomason describes the heroic contributions of John Peter Paul. (The title of the article is At a Loss for Words, in case you have to search for it.) Paul, a ninety-one year old elder in Montana, puts the welfare of his tribal language, Salish–Pend d’Oreille, above his own health.

But major sacrifices are not necessarily a requirement. Just telling family stories makes us part of the process. I've loved hearing about how my grandmother, Bessie Bruner, always made a wreath when someone in Round Praire (Texas) passed on. No one died without notice, without flowers. Knowing that makes a difference in how I choose to live.

Other elder roles are also Big. It turns out that all this doting on our grandchildren is marvelous, not only for them, but for the whole society. Read all about it in What Are Old People For? And check out that picture of my grandson, Eli. I'm sure he is destined for Carnegie Hall.

Hank Mattimore, blogging at yagrowsoryadies, has his own take on Thomas's book. Check it out.

Action and Other Antidotes

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone......*

I don't think of myself as a highly sensitive person but reading Naomi Wolf's The End of America: Letter of Warning to a Young Patriot sent me into despair. I put it aside while I considered how to stay informed without becoming depressed. Here is what I came up with:

1) I recognized that the fear I was feeling about losing freedom was similar (identical?) to the fear that is driving those who would pass laws to protect us from The Terrorists. They are as worried for their children, and grandchildren, as I am. Just feeling that empathy was enough to add some perspective.

2) Perspective was what I needed. I had focused too tightly on the spectre of Big Brother. My wonderful NIA teacher, Rachael Resch, reminded me that we should always hold something we love in mind. When I was little my mother would sit with me if I was scared, usually at bedtime. She would quote from the Bible, "What so ever things are beautiful, what so ever things are pure, think on these things." OK, so there is a power grab by the neocons, but good things are happening too. I pictured the wonderful time I'd had in Boston with my daughter Sally and grandchildren, Eli and Evelyn (cartwheel above). And the warm Thanksgiving with my son Fred, his wife Amy, and Sam's daughter, Jennifer, in Eugene. I picked up my Gratitude Journal.

3) I also needed to take political action. Nothing like a dose of helplessness to fuel a bleak mood. So I wrote a letter to the editor regarding Senate Bill 1959. I took a copy of the bill to a friend who teaches government at Ashland High School, so he could talk with his students about it. Plus I offered to mentor a senior project regarding governmental moves toward dictatorship as outlined in Wolf's book. And I left a copy of the book for his class. And I asked our library to get a copy. And I called/faxed the members of the Homeland Security and Government Affairs registering my opposition to S 1959. Whew!

You can read a summary of Wolf's 10 steps to close down an open society here, or watch an excellent interview with Wolf posted on Time Goes By and read more about S 1959, the Thought Crime bill. You can download a copy of the introduction to The End of America here. I encourage you to buy a copy if you can. Give them for Christmas!


We've been warned. Let it fuel something positive.

*Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi
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