Last week I spent the final days of Holy Week (called the triduum) at Holy Cross Monastery, an Anglican Benedictine center, located in West Park, New York. I have always found a disconnect between the demands of retail and the requirements of serious Lenten observation. It is hard to be at one moment in a bustling book store and the next moment in a Good Friday observance of Jesus' crucifixion or a Maundy Thursday footwashing. The deep and profound issues of Holy Week have to do with political structures, death, hope, renewal and new life. These are somber matters not easily contemplated in front of a cash register or while opening a box of incoming books or when providing customer service to an irrate customer.
My expectation in going to Holy Cross was that it would provide me with a space for pondering the Lenten narrative with other like-minded persons. I knew that there would be frequent liturgical celebrations throughout the day in which the Scriptures would be read, chanted and silently reflected upon. Within a day I needed to acquaint myself with the ancient terms for these liturgical moments: matins, diurnum, vespers, compline. The monks welcomed about thirty or so of us from across the United States into their monastery with graciousness and good hospitality.
It was announced that there would be silence in the monastery from Maunday Thursday services and footwashing until after breakfast on Holy Saturday. While packing, I had thought of taking my earphones and some cd's but at the last minute I decided not to do this. The idea of the silence was to provide a setting for deep reflection and prayer. The monks put up signs all over the monastery reminding us of the silent order of things.
Even though I live by myself, there is always the cd player, the television, the radio, the telephone and frequent visits to break any silence. At work, in addition to staff and customers, there is always the overhead music system blaring out strange combinations of classics, rock, blues, bluegrass, hip hop . . . . .
So I welcomed the silence with enthusiasm. I slept more. I read a good deal in the comfortable monastery reading room (including an important book by Columbia economist Jeffrey Sacks titled Ending Poverty that I hope to review eventually on this blog). And I did engage in meditation and prayer.
There is no way that I can express how much this experience with silence had a cleansing effect on my mind and on my body. To use an overused metaphor, it felt like rain in the desert. By not battling an array of imposed sounds, I was able to focus on important matters . . . . . or to even choose not to focus on anything. At the end of the two-day silence, I felt more whole and stronger.
Since returning to Indianapolis, I have been thinking about where persons who are on the outside of power structures or who are in some way counter-cultural get the strength to resist or to oppose things. I mean, as should be clear on this blog site I am distressed by many of the actions of the current United States administration. I also disagree with many of the assumptions of large numbers of Americans about gender, consumerism, relations with the world and with ethnic groups in the USA and a host of other issues. All of this is so big and overwhelming that sometimes I am tempted to just throw in the towel . . . . . and yet, I believe in resistance and opposition as critical activities.
Surely, we get strength for resistance and opposition from community or contact with other like-minded persons. For me this comes through my work in the church or Amnesty International or the ACLU. But the sources of strength need to come from beyond activism and ideas.
And this is where frequent practice of silence and meditation come in. In silence it is possible for the inner part of ourselves to be refreshed. It is possible to sort out and reflect upon our ideas, gaining new perspectives and approaches. It is possible in silence to create new spaces for the reception of new ways of doing things.
For me, this means that I need to declare silent days right here in Indianapolis. Of course, this is not easy. But I need to declare rest from noise and sound and talking so that my soul can be nurtured and refreshed. One thing I am thinking of doing is "keeping silence" from Sunday evening through noon on Mondays. Maybe this is just a short period but it can provide the strength that I personally am looking for in order to engage in the larger struggle as a progressive person.
In all of this I am inspired by the practice of persons like Thomas Merton, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and others who knew how to engage in careful meditation and silence while participating fully in some key historic struggles.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Read The Sign of the Book by John Dunning
This site, the Blue Ogee, bills itself as exploring the intersection between the personal and the public in a virtual coffee shop/bookstore environment. Up to now most of the postings have tilted towards public issues of one kind or another.
But what do we do to refresh our spirits when the public issues seem almost too weighty or intractable?
I read. Since an early age, I have loved books. And in real life, I work in a real bookstore!
I am always on the lookout for a book that is challenging, not dumbed-down and that invites the reader into a credible imaginary world.
For most of my life I have read fiction--lots of fiction. But the mystery genre did not begin to attract me until a few years ago. And now I am trying to be a discerning reader in this genre.
So it was a wonderful discovery, almost serendipitous, when I chanced upon a crisp new copy of John Dunning's new bookman mystery, The Sign of the Book. The "bookman" is Cliff Janeway, an ex-cop who deals in rare books out of a dumpy little store on East Colfax in Denver.
The setting for this fourth bookman mystery is Paradise, Colorado, a gorgeous little town nestled in the Rockies. Janeway has been asked to investigate the murder of Bobby Marshall, a bookseller, by his hotshot lawyer lover, Erin D'Angelo. Bobby Marshall's wife, Laura (an old best friend of Erin's) has been accused of the crime.
Who killed Bobby Marshall? Was it Laura, who confessed? Was it his adopted autistic savant child? Was it a bookselling group of thugs run by a corrupted preacher?
And why does Janeway suspect that the large collection of signed books owned by the deceased hold the clue to his death?
Into this mix enters a series of other wonderfully etched characters: a tough local judge, a sadistic policeman, a good guy elder lawyer, the deceased's disfunctional parents and others.
This is a page turner. You will keep turning until the end to find out who the killer was and why.
In the meantime, you will learn a great deal about the rare and used book trade. Maybe it is because of this aspect of the Cliff Janeway series that has attracted so many people in the book trade to the bookman novels.
Go find The Sign of the Book by John Dunning at your local book store or library. Relax with it and then, if you want, share your comments about it with other Blue Ogee readers. By the way, the author, John Dunning, also deals in fine rare books and you can learn more about him from his www site at: www.oldalgonquin.com
P.S. I am backing up in the series and am reading The Bookman's Promise right now. You can never get too much of a good thing!
But what do we do to refresh our spirits when the public issues seem almost too weighty or intractable?
I read. Since an early age, I have loved books. And in real life, I work in a real bookstore!
I am always on the lookout for a book that is challenging, not dumbed-down and that invites the reader into a credible imaginary world.
For most of my life I have read fiction--lots of fiction. But the mystery genre did not begin to attract me until a few years ago. And now I am trying to be a discerning reader in this genre.
So it was a wonderful discovery, almost serendipitous, when I chanced upon a crisp new copy of John Dunning's new bookman mystery, The Sign of the Book. The "bookman" is Cliff Janeway, an ex-cop who deals in rare books out of a dumpy little store on East Colfax in Denver.
The setting for this fourth bookman mystery is Paradise, Colorado, a gorgeous little town nestled in the Rockies. Janeway has been asked to investigate the murder of Bobby Marshall, a bookseller, by his hotshot lawyer lover, Erin D'Angelo. Bobby Marshall's wife, Laura (an old best friend of Erin's) has been accused of the crime.
Who killed Bobby Marshall? Was it Laura, who confessed? Was it his adopted autistic savant child? Was it a bookselling group of thugs run by a corrupted preacher?
And why does Janeway suspect that the large collection of signed books owned by the deceased hold the clue to his death?
Into this mix enters a series of other wonderfully etched characters: a tough local judge, a sadistic policeman, a good guy elder lawyer, the deceased's disfunctional parents and others.
This is a page turner. You will keep turning until the end to find out who the killer was and why.
In the meantime, you will learn a great deal about the rare and used book trade. Maybe it is because of this aspect of the Cliff Janeway series that has attracted so many people in the book trade to the bookman novels.
Go find The Sign of the Book by John Dunning at your local book store or library. Relax with it and then, if you want, share your comments about it with other Blue Ogee readers. By the way, the author, John Dunning, also deals in fine rare books and you can learn more about him from his www site at: www.oldalgonquin.com
P.S. I am backing up in the series and am reading The Bookman's Promise right now. You can never get too much of a good thing!
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Post Election Blues: Learn How to Frame
By now it may seem that the national elections in early November 2004 are "ancient history." John Kerry has faded into media obscurity. The disappointment and anger that many progressives felt has had to give way to "moving on" to other issues and problems.
In one of my earlier postings I referred to comments by friends about possible immigration. Of course, all of them are still here in the USA trying to work, pay the bills, maintain ties of family and friends and--most difficult of all--develop hope about who we are in this period of GWB's triumph. Not an easy task, any of this.
While the specific issues of Social Security, Iran, Iraq, Korea, the debt and myriad other concerns should capture our attention, it seems to me that progressive people should be giving thought to broader frameworks of public discourse and communications. We need to consider that the Right has been giving consideration to these matters for a long time and that this explains their increased ability to appeal to the voters.
Since The Blue Ogee bills itself as a virtual coffeeshop/bookstore, then let me give you this bookseller's recommendation: Go to your nearest Borders Books and pick up a copy of Don't Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate by Berkley linguist George Lakoff (ISBN 1-931498-71-7).
Lakoff states that the great challenge to progressives in the period leading up to the new elections--if we wish to win--is to learn how to frame and reframe debates on key issues in our national discourse. He says that "frames are mental structiures that shape the way we see the world. As a result, they shape the goals we seek, the plans we make, the way we act, and what counts as a good or bad outcome of our actions. In politics our frames shape our social policies and the institutions we form to carry out policies. To change our frames is to change all of this Reframing is social change." - p. xv
For example, when George Bush began talking about "tax relief" during his first term, he was using a frame. Lakoff notes that "for there to be relief there must be an affliction, an afflicted party, and a reliever who removes the affliction and is therefore a hero. . . . . And if people try to stop the hero, those people are villains for trying to prevent relief." In other words, the Republicans had set a trap for Democrats.
Sometimes, frames, while not exactly lies, run around the truth by presenting another reality. So when we hear about the Clean Air Act, the frame obscures the reality of actual worse air quality. Or when we hear about No Child Left Behind, the frame obscures the reality the initiative masks of children who are, in fact, left behind. Or, in the current debate on Social Security, there have been Republican references to "saving" Social Security when, in fact, the goal is to roll it back, maybe to pre-Roosevelt non-existence.
Frames reflect underlying values. So in the debate over gay marriage, the question should shift from "Do you believe in same sex marriage?" to "Do you believe that all Americans should have equality before the law in choosing life partners?" (that is my rendering of the question). There is a shift in the framing here.
Framing is a matter that is relevant to the makers and shakers of public policy. But it is a matter that is relevant to progressives as they discuss and debate public issues with friends and associates. We all need to learn how to frame issues at this level.
Lakoff is closely associated with the Rockridge Institute, the only progressive think tank dealing with framing. Rockridge has a very nice www site. Visit it to see more of Lakoff's thought and the thought of others: www.rockridgeinstitute.org
In one of my earlier postings I referred to comments by friends about possible immigration. Of course, all of them are still here in the USA trying to work, pay the bills, maintain ties of family and friends and--most difficult of all--develop hope about who we are in this period of GWB's triumph. Not an easy task, any of this.
While the specific issues of Social Security, Iran, Iraq, Korea, the debt and myriad other concerns should capture our attention, it seems to me that progressive people should be giving thought to broader frameworks of public discourse and communications. We need to consider that the Right has been giving consideration to these matters for a long time and that this explains their increased ability to appeal to the voters.
Since The Blue Ogee bills itself as a virtual coffeeshop/bookstore, then let me give you this bookseller's recommendation: Go to your nearest Borders Books and pick up a copy of Don't Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate by Berkley linguist George Lakoff (ISBN 1-931498-71-7).
Lakoff states that the great challenge to progressives in the period leading up to the new elections--if we wish to win--is to learn how to frame and reframe debates on key issues in our national discourse. He says that "frames are mental structiures that shape the way we see the world. As a result, they shape the goals we seek, the plans we make, the way we act, and what counts as a good or bad outcome of our actions. In politics our frames shape our social policies and the institutions we form to carry out policies. To change our frames is to change all of this Reframing is social change." - p. xv
For example, when George Bush began talking about "tax relief" during his first term, he was using a frame. Lakoff notes that "for there to be relief there must be an affliction, an afflicted party, and a reliever who removes the affliction and is therefore a hero. . . . . And if people try to stop the hero, those people are villains for trying to prevent relief." In other words, the Republicans had set a trap for Democrats.
Sometimes, frames, while not exactly lies, run around the truth by presenting another reality. So when we hear about the Clean Air Act, the frame obscures the reality of actual worse air quality. Or when we hear about No Child Left Behind, the frame obscures the reality the initiative masks of children who are, in fact, left behind. Or, in the current debate on Social Security, there have been Republican references to "saving" Social Security when, in fact, the goal is to roll it back, maybe to pre-Roosevelt non-existence.
Frames reflect underlying values. So in the debate over gay marriage, the question should shift from "Do you believe in same sex marriage?" to "Do you believe that all Americans should have equality before the law in choosing life partners?" (that is my rendering of the question). There is a shift in the framing here.
Framing is a matter that is relevant to the makers and shakers of public policy. But it is a matter that is relevant to progressives as they discuss and debate public issues with friends and associates. We all need to learn how to frame issues at this level.
Lakoff is closely associated with the Rockridge Institute, the only progressive think tank dealing with framing. Rockridge has a very nice www site. Visit it to see more of Lakoff's thought and the thought of others: www.rockridgeinstitute.org
New Edited Version: Walking and Public Awareness
Following is a slightly edited reposting of my Tuesday, March 8th meditation on walking. Somehow I managed to post those comments in a font that was practically impossible for good reading. I have not deleted the previous posting because there was a fine comment in response to it that you might want to look at. In the future, I will be doing all postings on the Blue Ogee with this font and this size. Let me know if it is easier to read.
_____________
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to bloom on the Earth with every step. " -- Thich Nhat Hanha, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll, Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." -- John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I " divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapoois, and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction of means of transportation and this slowing-down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are exluded from people who speed along the fast lange in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved residential neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate. Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that "someone" is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge hear the highway. I almost expected a voice to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in a home. But, of course, this didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things--artefacts of a throw-away society--that have been cast out of cars as unimportant. There are some red flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock. McDonalds ketchup packets. . . .
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has the building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed? Or both?
--There are different churches: Indianpolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church; First Lutheran--one more downtown congregation that has closed shop, I think. People are beginning to enter Central and the Praise Cathedral . . . . . looking for what? God? Friendship? Time out?
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building (oh well, not beautiful but sort of imposing in a sixties brutal concrete way), University Park, and the Indianapolis Circle with a lavish monument to the Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but also I have passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me. This is still a "big small town" where some hospitable Midwestern practices survive. I feel new energy from these expressions of civility.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here and there. I look at the emerging buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate sends the right signal.
--As I am walking, I don't maintain a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my big extended family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean, crisp morning air.
--When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic , the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
_____________
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to bloom on the Earth with every step. " -- Thich Nhat Hanha, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll, Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." -- John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I " divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapoois, and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction of means of transportation and this slowing-down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are exluded from people who speed along the fast lange in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved residential neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate. Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that "someone" is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge hear the highway. I almost expected a voice to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in a home. But, of course, this didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things--artefacts of a throw-away society--that have been cast out of cars as unimportant. There are some red flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock. McDonalds ketchup packets. . . .
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has the building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed? Or both?
--There are different churches: Indianpolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church; First Lutheran--one more downtown congregation that has closed shop, I think. People are beginning to enter Central and the Praise Cathedral . . . . . looking for what? God? Friendship? Time out?
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building (oh well, not beautiful but sort of imposing in a sixties brutal concrete way), University Park, and the Indianapolis Circle with a lavish monument to the Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but also I have passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me. This is still a "big small town" where some hospitable Midwestern practices survive. I feel new energy from these expressions of civility.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here and there. I look at the emerging buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate sends the right signal.
--As I am walking, I don't maintain a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my big extended family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean, crisp morning air.
--When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic , the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Walking and Public Awareness
"The Buddha is often represented by artists as seated upon a lotus flower to suggest the peace and happiness he enjoys. Artists also depict lotus flowers blooming under the footsteps of the newly-born Buddha. If we take steps without anxiety, in peace and joy, then we, too, will cause a flower to floom on the Earth with every step." -- Thich Nhat Hanh, Present Moment Wonderful Moment, p. 58.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll. Saunter. Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." --John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I "divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapolis and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes a lot farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction in means of transportation and this slowing down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are excluded to people who move along the fast lane in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved historic neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate? Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that someone is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of a cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge near the highway. I almost expected someone to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in someone's home. But, of course, that didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things that have been thrown out of cars as unimportant. There are some flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock.
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has this building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed?
--There are different churches: Indianapolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church--people are beginning to enter these buildings.
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a predominantly residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building, and Indianapolis Circle with a monument to Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but I have also passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here. I look at the buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate is right.
--As I am walking, I don't have a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean crisp morning air.
When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic, the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many different backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
"Get out now. Not just outside, but beyond the trap of the programmed electronic age so gently closing around so many people at the end of our century. Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything that abuts the rural road, the city street, the suburban boulevard. Walk. Stroll. Saunter. Ride a bike, and coast along a lot. Explore." --John R. Stilgoe, Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places, p. 1.
More than eight years ago, I "divorced" my car, moved to downtown Indianapolis and began a life in search of more simplicity and slowness. Since then, I have walked and biked a good deal. I switched from a sedentary desk job to one that keeps me on my feet almost eight hours a day.
One of the first benefits of this "life style" change is that my money goes a lot farther--no spiraling gas costs, car insurance, taxes, repair bills, monthly payments. But, for the moment, forget the financial angle. Basically, if my feet or a bike or the occasional IndyGo bus ride will not get me there, I just don't go.
This self-imposed restriction in means of transportation and this slowing down has caused me to get in touch with my surroundings, to develop a very fine-tuned sense of place and to experience sights, sounds and smells in ways that are excluded to people who move along the fast lane in vehicles.
They miss so much.
Last Sunday I walked to mass at Christ Church Cathedral--about one mile from where I live. Even walking slowly, it only took me about 25 minutes to get from my porch to the cathedral door.
Here are some of the things that I noticed:
--As I moved towards the center of town from my old and well-preserved historic neighborhood, I couldn't help but feel anger at the wound caused by one of the several interstates. How many beautiful homes and historic sites were wiped out by this highway? I live only a block from the interstate? Does anyone in the many cars and semis wonder what is going on either side of the highway?
--While walking under the interstate, as it bridges over my street, I looked up to the concrete siding near the top. Someone has been living here. But that someone is not here now. Cans, bottles, big pieces of a cardboard carton that enveloped a refrigerator, an old wet pillow are all propped on the ledge near the highway. I almost expected someone to call my name, as though I were somehow trespassing in someone's home. But, of course, that didn't happen.
--There is ample time to look at the many interesting things that have been thrown out of cars as unimportant. There are some flannel boxer shorts. Hmmm. A used condom. A vodka bottle. A CD. A sock.
--Indianapolis was originally planned to have several diagonal streets. As I walk on Ft. Wayne Avenue, one of these thoroughfares, I look at one of the old buildings that had been used for a junk shop, then fixed up and now is a very fine upscale apartment building. Has this building been preserved or has its essential nature been changed?
--There are different churches: Indianapolis Praise Cathedral, a predominantly African-American congregation; Central Christian Church--people are beginning to enter these buildings.
--At Meridian Street I walk down the American Legion Mall. And I am aware of having moved from a predominantly residential area to a commercial and business center. But there is much that is beautiful and imposing around me. The Veterans Monument, the Federal Building, and Indianapolis Circle with a monument to Hoosier fatalities in the Civil War looms ahead.
--I have walked by myself but I have also passed some joggers and other pedestrians this morning. Almost all of them smiled and greeted me.
--There is a grassy area by one of the downtown buildings and I can see crocuses popping up here. I look at the buds on the trees and see that they are preparing in their mysterious way to open into leaves when the climate is right.
--As I am walking, I don't have a stipulated "topic" of reflection. My mind moves from my immediate surroundings to thoughts about work, my family, even politics. This slow free flow of ideas is wonderful in the clean crisp morning air.
When I arrive at Christ Church, I have a sense of being very much alive to everything around me and of having experienced the goodness of exercise. I know that by being aware of the trash, the traffic, the houses, the signs of nature, the architecture and the history so richly arrayed along the sidewalk, that I am ready now to reflect on the mysteries of God.
By walking, I am not cooped up in a hermetically sealed vehicle enjoying my privacy. I am traversing public space and connecting once again with the collective history that has created it and with the people of many different backgrounds who use it.
For me, walking is above all an exercise in mindfulness and public awareness.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Would You Immigrate?
Just following the November elections, I heard several of my friends say that now they would think about about immigrating to Canada. One friend said that she might want to go to a truly constitutionally free country, South Africa. if you have ever read South Africa's constitution established following years of apartheid, you will know why she is attracted to that country.
Like so many others who hoped for a change in the White House, I found myself deeply disappointed and even emotionally upset following the Bush victory. The prospect of another four years of ignoring significant domestic and international issues of social justice seemed then--and seems now--almost intolerable. Given the clear evidence from many sources that the American people had been lied to about the reasons for invading Iraq, I could not believe that the electorate would return Bush to power. But he was returned to power.
Every person who told me that s/he was thinking about immigrating has mentioned the topic again. So does that mean that they were just engaging in hyperbole or, as people often say nowadays, they were "over-reacting"?
Here is a question for you to think about: What would it take for you to seriously consider immigrating to Canada or South Africa or anywhere else that is ostensibly more democratic?
For myself, contemplating (even in a sort of fantasy-imagination world) immigration is almost as painful an exercise as contemplating the next four years with GWB. To put it bluntly, I like the U.S.A., even with Bush at the head, and I don't see why I should be the one to leave. Or, as we sang in the 60's, "this land is my land . . . " And even if at present progressive politics have not won the day in all of the U.S.A., people-centered politics has a place in our traditions. I am writing these notes from Indiana which was the home of Eugene Debs, who ran for president even when he was jailed by a conservative government. My ancestors fought in most of the significant major conflicts of this country. I am the descendant of German immigrants who moved from Hesse-Darmstadt in 1852 and settled in Pennsylvania. For sure, when I think of these things, I know that this land is my land.
Nonetheless, what would it take for me to immigrate? I was thinking about this today as I walked to work in a late winter snowstorm.
I decided that it would be intolerable to continue living in this country if any of the following were to occur:
--A suspencion of constitutional rights and the muzzling of free courts, even temporarily for whatever reasons;
--Publically approved scapegoating and/or open, government-sanctioned violence against any racial, religious, ethnic or sexual minority.
In the meantime, I am staying in the U.S.A. as a citizen proud of the achievements and concerns of progressive Americans throughout history. I have a sense of place in this country and in this city, Indianapolis, USA. This is GWB's country and he apparently represents lots of people out there. But it is mine also and I plan on staying and working for issues of economic-social justice that I care about.
Again, how about you, good reader? What would it take for you to immigrate? Think about it and if you feel comfortable doing so, share your comments.
Like so many others who hoped for a change in the White House, I found myself deeply disappointed and even emotionally upset following the Bush victory. The prospect of another four years of ignoring significant domestic and international issues of social justice seemed then--and seems now--almost intolerable. Given the clear evidence from many sources that the American people had been lied to about the reasons for invading Iraq, I could not believe that the electorate would return Bush to power. But he was returned to power.
Every person who told me that s/he was thinking about immigrating has mentioned the topic again. So does that mean that they were just engaging in hyperbole or, as people often say nowadays, they were "over-reacting"?
Here is a question for you to think about: What would it take for you to seriously consider immigrating to Canada or South Africa or anywhere else that is ostensibly more democratic?
For myself, contemplating (even in a sort of fantasy-imagination world) immigration is almost as painful an exercise as contemplating the next four years with GWB. To put it bluntly, I like the U.S.A., even with Bush at the head, and I don't see why I should be the one to leave. Or, as we sang in the 60's, "this land is my land . . . " And even if at present progressive politics have not won the day in all of the U.S.A., people-centered politics has a place in our traditions. I am writing these notes from Indiana which was the home of Eugene Debs, who ran for president even when he was jailed by a conservative government. My ancestors fought in most of the significant major conflicts of this country. I am the descendant of German immigrants who moved from Hesse-Darmstadt in 1852 and settled in Pennsylvania. For sure, when I think of these things, I know that this land is my land.
Nonetheless, what would it take for me to immigrate? I was thinking about this today as I walked to work in a late winter snowstorm.
I decided that it would be intolerable to continue living in this country if any of the following were to occur:
--A suspencion of constitutional rights and the muzzling of free courts, even temporarily for whatever reasons;
--Publically approved scapegoating and/or open, government-sanctioned violence against any racial, religious, ethnic or sexual minority.
In the meantime, I am staying in the U.S.A. as a citizen proud of the achievements and concerns of progressive Americans throughout history. I have a sense of place in this country and in this city, Indianapolis, USA. This is GWB's country and he apparently represents lots of people out there. But it is mine also and I plan on staying and working for issues of economic-social justice that I care about.
Again, how about you, good reader? What would it take for you to immigrate? Think about it and if you feel comfortable doing so, share your comments.
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