So, I need some help on my Master's paper. Below is the way my brain works along with a possible question to approach the topic that I'm interested in. If you have the time and the patience, it would awesome if you could look at what I have (basically a research question) and tell me if it makes sense.
(P.S. And Nick you thought you were good at metaphors.)
Bare with me.
If the physical world that we live in is a tapestry where everyone is connected by goods and services, networks and relationships, and through space and time, then we would have to say that our world is in need of mending. Some people have fallen away on loose threads. Some parts exist separately hanging on tightly to each other but with no connection to the rest of the masterpiece. Still the large part of the tapestry is in tact even if loosely connected in many parts. This larger piece, however, has areas covered in dirt and grease, and other areas are faded. Tears and holes exist throughout the fabric and the beautiful mandala that is drawn on the tapestry can no longer be seen.
This is how I see the world. There is pain here—rips, fading, missing pieces, and layers of suffocating dirt that making it a chore to grow and breath. I also see uneven stitches where people with good intentions, but the wrong skills have tried to piece the tapestry back together.
When I look at community work, social justice work; when I look at programs at Clark University; when I look at programs that are trying to improve youth/police relations, I often see well meaning stitches trying to mend together different parts of the tapestry. These stitches are quick and forceful. The pieces are cleaned off first, cared for or washed. The color isn’t tried to be brought back. It is figured that this will be done after the pieces are brought back together. But how can you find out where the puzzle comes together, if you can't see the pattern clearly?
But why must we forcefully stitch these pieces back together? This is a magical living, breathing tapestry not made out of wool, but out people. The threads can weave themselves back together, once the people who see the problem help to wash the dirt off and give them the confidence. But the washers and these magic threads also need the right skills. These tapestry has become disheveled and torn not because mind connections were broken, logic didn’t fail, but because a heart connection was broken, someone gave up on someone else or someone never believed they mattered in the first place. It was an emotional, spiritual, soulular disconnection.
Then why do we try to solve these problems using only physical or mental tools. Why does the police officer walk up to a kid with a can of spray paint with a threatening gait? Why DARE officer teach classes to say no to drugs without even letting the kids know who he is, what he likes, and why he does the work he does? Why are hug not allowed from after school workers? Why are people who work in the community often forced to play a role and separate there job from the rest of their lives? If we only use logic to solve the problems in our communities then aren’t we more or less machines creating a community that can only satisfy another machine? Don’t things just fall apart when we add emotion to the scene? We have to use emotion and humanness to solve the same problems that they create.
My master's paper will be a conversation on the need for honest interpersonal connections and the exposure of the authentic self in community development. I will wrap this discussion around the example of youth/police relations.
Question: Why is there a need for honest interpersonal connections and the exposure of the authentic self in community development? How could a focus on honest interpersonal connections and the exposure of the authentic self in youth/police programs heal and restore relationships between these two groups and the rest of the community?
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Consumption and Creation
"Write, write, write!" this little voice in my head constantly says. The trouble happens to be the opposite of writer's block. It's that there is so much that I don't know even where to begin. Part of it also happens to be that when I write, I reflect-- I process-- I begin to transform. I'm not sure if I can handle all of this transformation.
My housemate, and fellow mentee, was told something interesting by his supervisor today. He was told, "You have been consuming more here that producing. It's time to stop consuming and start producing." I have to say that I don't think you should ever stop doing either. One compliments and steers the other. I also have to say, "How do you know I'm not "producing?" I may not be giving you specifically what you are looking for, but I doubt I can go through a second of life without creating, or producing anything. It may be that my housemate is in a place in his life where consuming the knowledge that is surrounding him is more vital to his journey. But it could also be that it takes so much more courage and strength to create something for others to see than it does just to let things soak in. I don’t know about my housemate, but this is pretty much where I am.
I don’t really know much about physics or energy, although I’m always fascinated when I have a good teacher who can show me the way, and I like to think I’m a good student even if I can’t really remember the facts when they leave my side because the English major in me always remembers the themes. But I’m pretty sure that physics will back me up at some level when I say that there really does need to be an equal balance of consumption and creation. When there isn’t, all of the energy gets stored in one place, with no way to be transferred, transformed. No way to reach someone else’s body, heart and soul.
Now, you may be thinking, "Well, if it's good knowledge, good feelings, good insights that I'm consuming, why on Earth would I want to give it away? I'll keep it for a rainy day."
Well, sorry my friends it doesn't work that way. If you don't create with it, if you don't pass it along, then you end up like me, with the opposite of writer's block. Full of so many thoughts and emotions that are so uncategorized that you can barely think and feel like at any moment you may just explode.
Others out there may be saying to my first set of imaginary friends, "How dare you even think of keeping all of those good things to yourselves! Anyone who would do that is selfish. With all of the bad things going on we need some of those good things too, goodness gracious!"
Now, don't be so hasty to judge them, my friends. It's hard to give that energy away because first you have to take inventory of exactly what you have. This is terrifying! Because you have to let all of that light, and goodness, and love permeate through your body. You may think this is easy but I know that I personally have put up a wall around me that actually keeps good things out. It’s much easier for me to complain and whine about a cold, or a grumpy co-worker, or the aggressive newscaster, than it is for me to joyously report the giggle-filled chills I got when I saw a toddler waddling down the street, or heard a beautiful concerto, or spoke with a complete stranger at the coffee shop. Why? First because I have to recognize that I felt that way and heaven forbid, feel good! And secondly, if I do recognize it I don’t know what to do with it. Some part of my brain thinks that people want to hear the good stuff. Another part of my brain is afraid I won’t do the story justice, and people will look at me like I am a four year old who just learned to tie her shoe, “Good for you, dear.”
But you have to let it out. You have to create. You have to pass the energy along. Or it will consume you. You will become constantly antsy or depressed. How can good things make you depressed? Well energy cannot be created or destroyed, right? So, without sharing that energy and bringing it back out into the physical world it cannot be experienced again. You can’t feel it. You can’t recreate it with your memories, only transfer it with your actions, so that longing to feel it again consumes you, and ta-da depression!
The moral of this story is, “I should write more.” But seriously, think about the fact that we are afraid of and unsure of how to process and experience those moments that are so full of light. I have been. Then think about how hard it is to experience that blissful light when it comes from inside you. I have been. And while you do, you can meditate on the quote that seems to capture the summer for me:
My housemate, and fellow mentee, was told something interesting by his supervisor today. He was told, "You have been consuming more here that producing. It's time to stop consuming and start producing." I have to say that I don't think you should ever stop doing either. One compliments and steers the other. I also have to say, "How do you know I'm not "producing?" I may not be giving you specifically what you are looking for, but I doubt I can go through a second of life without creating, or producing anything. It may be that my housemate is in a place in his life where consuming the knowledge that is surrounding him is more vital to his journey. But it could also be that it takes so much more courage and strength to create something for others to see than it does just to let things soak in. I don’t know about my housemate, but this is pretty much where I am.
I don’t really know much about physics or energy, although I’m always fascinated when I have a good teacher who can show me the way, and I like to think I’m a good student even if I can’t really remember the facts when they leave my side because the English major in me always remembers the themes. But I’m pretty sure that physics will back me up at some level when I say that there really does need to be an equal balance of consumption and creation. When there isn’t, all of the energy gets stored in one place, with no way to be transferred, transformed. No way to reach someone else’s body, heart and soul.
Now, you may be thinking, "Well, if it's good knowledge, good feelings, good insights that I'm consuming, why on Earth would I want to give it away? I'll keep it for a rainy day."
Well, sorry my friends it doesn't work that way. If you don't create with it, if you don't pass it along, then you end up like me, with the opposite of writer's block. Full of so many thoughts and emotions that are so uncategorized that you can barely think and feel like at any moment you may just explode.
Others out there may be saying to my first set of imaginary friends, "How dare you even think of keeping all of those good things to yourselves! Anyone who would do that is selfish. With all of the bad things going on we need some of those good things too, goodness gracious!"
Now, don't be so hasty to judge them, my friends. It's hard to give that energy away because first you have to take inventory of exactly what you have. This is terrifying! Because you have to let all of that light, and goodness, and love permeate through your body. You may think this is easy but I know that I personally have put up a wall around me that actually keeps good things out. It’s much easier for me to complain and whine about a cold, or a grumpy co-worker, or the aggressive newscaster, than it is for me to joyously report the giggle-filled chills I got when I saw a toddler waddling down the street, or heard a beautiful concerto, or spoke with a complete stranger at the coffee shop. Why? First because I have to recognize that I felt that way and heaven forbid, feel good! And secondly, if I do recognize it I don’t know what to do with it. Some part of my brain thinks that people want to hear the good stuff. Another part of my brain is afraid I won’t do the story justice, and people will look at me like I am a four year old who just learned to tie her shoe, “Good for you, dear.”
But you have to let it out. You have to create. You have to pass the energy along. Or it will consume you. You will become constantly antsy or depressed. How can good things make you depressed? Well energy cannot be created or destroyed, right? So, without sharing that energy and bringing it back out into the physical world it cannot be experienced again. You can’t feel it. You can’t recreate it with your memories, only transfer it with your actions, so that longing to feel it again consumes you, and ta-da depression!
The moral of this story is, “I should write more.” But seriously, think about the fact that we are afraid of and unsure of how to process and experience those moments that are so full of light. I have been. Then think about how hard it is to experience that blissful light when it comes from inside you. I have been. And while you do, you can meditate on the quote that seems to capture the summer for me:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -Marrianne Williamson
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A Citizen of California
On June 29th, 2009, I learned that California still has the death penalty even though no one has been executed since 2005. On June 30th, 2009 I was at the public hearing in Sacramento where the public was to comment on the new lethal injection procedures developed by the California’s Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation so that executions could begin again. Over 100 people spoke. Everyone was given 3 minutes to respond to the new procedures and the entire process lasted eight hours with an hour break at noon for lunch. It was an emotional day. Only two speakers came to support the new procedures. They came together and spoke back to back. Their message was one of a vengeful justice that asserted opponents of capital punishment had “misplaced compassion.” Those compassionate souls spoke for the next 8 hours.
Teachers spoke against the death penalty asking for money for education not execution, stating that $1 billon could be saved over 5 years if the state executions were done with. Doctors, future doctors, and nurses spoke against the death penalty stating that it was their duty to protect and sustain life. Students, spiritual leaders, and everyday citizens spoke out against the death penalty and spoke for dignity. Families of prisoners on death row spoke against the death penalty. Families of victims killed by prisoners on death row spoke against the death penalty. Former prisoners on death row, who had been found innocent, spoke against the death penalty. The new procedures were the only things meant to be discussed—the technicalities. The appropriateness or morality of the death penalty itself, were not on the table, and the facilitators reminded the witnesses in the room of this once or twice an hour. For many stepping up t the podium, this was impossible. How were they to talk about a procedure that leads to the legal murder of another human being without mentioning the end product?
Some people were able to step up to the podium and focus on the problems with the procedures alone. They often stated, “I am against the death penalty, but because this hearing is meant to discuss these new procedures, I will simply state my problems with these.” They believed that in order to be taken seriously they had to play by the rules set before them. They only talk about the procedures themselves, and hoped that if they showed the human rights violations within them alone—the dignity that was being stripped of not only the prisoners, but their families and the staff members to be carrying out these new procedures—that maybe a seed of humanity and understanding would be planted.
There were plenty of things in the new procedures to be concerned with. Prisoners on death row were not able to meet with personal spiritual counselors in private. They were only allowed to meet with State appointed chaplains who were required to record descriptions of all communications with the prisoner. Spiritual counselors were not able to hold the hand of prisoners while they were being killed. They were not even allowed to be in the same room. There was no maximum number of victim’s family members who could be present at the execution. If there wasn’t enough room a closed circuit television was provided in another location, and each family member was to be provided with psychological counsel after the event. Family members of those being executed were limited to five. There was no psychological counsel provided, and they were escorted on and off of the property as if they were criminals themselves. Those carrying out the state mandated killings were poorly supported in the new procedures, acting as if a person would not be affected by killing another human being as long as they were paid.
“There is no protection of dignity here. When dignity is taken away long enough, we lose our humanity, we lose our life. These procedures are not taking away just one human life, but parts of every human life that is involved in the process.”
On June 29th, I was a shocked New Yorker who has always seen California as the leader in common sense, compassion, and social innovation. On June 30th, I felt a little out of place, stuck in the mindset of a community developer, where the citizens—the voters—should always be given a voice. Did I have a right to even be here? Then a Swedish women walked up to the podium and told the witnesses in the room that Sweden was watching California, waiting for them to join their country in universal abolition of the death penalty, believing as I did that California had a history of inspiring, challenging and changing the country. It was then that I saw myself became a citizen of the state of California, not because I had bought a house here or spent $28 dollars on a California license, but because my heart was instantly connected to its citizens, as I realized that my humanity, the country’s humanity, and the world’s humanity lay in its hands. I realized that even if I am not a legal citizen of this state, it is still part of my home. It is a part of this country and part of this world, and the decisions that are made here are a reflection of the voices that are speaking the loudest. Fear usually causes people to scream. Love can cause people to sing, but we have to sing louder and in one unified voice without worrying if we have the right.
Sometimes it is good to stick to the rules, like those at the hearing who only spoke about the procedures. It may be the only way to be heard. Sometimes it is good to push past the boundaries, like the women from Sweden who spoke at a California State hearing. It may be the only way to be heard. Most of the time, it’s more powerful to do a little of both. People are always listening to conversations at various frequencies, and as messengers of human rights, dignity and love, it is our jobs to tap into all of those frequencies. And it is our job to unite.
Teachers spoke against the death penalty asking for money for education not execution, stating that $1 billon could be saved over 5 years if the state executions were done with. Doctors, future doctors, and nurses spoke against the death penalty stating that it was their duty to protect and sustain life. Students, spiritual leaders, and everyday citizens spoke out against the death penalty and spoke for dignity. Families of prisoners on death row spoke against the death penalty. Families of victims killed by prisoners on death row spoke against the death penalty. Former prisoners on death row, who had been found innocent, spoke against the death penalty. The new procedures were the only things meant to be discussed—the technicalities. The appropriateness or morality of the death penalty itself, were not on the table, and the facilitators reminded the witnesses in the room of this once or twice an hour. For many stepping up t the podium, this was impossible. How were they to talk about a procedure that leads to the legal murder of another human being without mentioning the end product?
Some people were able to step up to the podium and focus on the problems with the procedures alone. They often stated, “I am against the death penalty, but because this hearing is meant to discuss these new procedures, I will simply state my problems with these.” They believed that in order to be taken seriously they had to play by the rules set before them. They only talk about the procedures themselves, and hoped that if they showed the human rights violations within them alone—the dignity that was being stripped of not only the prisoners, but their families and the staff members to be carrying out these new procedures—that maybe a seed of humanity and understanding would be planted.
There were plenty of things in the new procedures to be concerned with. Prisoners on death row were not able to meet with personal spiritual counselors in private. They were only allowed to meet with State appointed chaplains who were required to record descriptions of all communications with the prisoner. Spiritual counselors were not able to hold the hand of prisoners while they were being killed. They were not even allowed to be in the same room. There was no maximum number of victim’s family members who could be present at the execution. If there wasn’t enough room a closed circuit television was provided in another location, and each family member was to be provided with psychological counsel after the event. Family members of those being executed were limited to five. There was no psychological counsel provided, and they were escorted on and off of the property as if they were criminals themselves. Those carrying out the state mandated killings were poorly supported in the new procedures, acting as if a person would not be affected by killing another human being as long as they were paid.
“There is no protection of dignity here. When dignity is taken away long enough, we lose our humanity, we lose our life. These procedures are not taking away just one human life, but parts of every human life that is involved in the process.”
On June 29th, I was a shocked New Yorker who has always seen California as the leader in common sense, compassion, and social innovation. On June 30th, I felt a little out of place, stuck in the mindset of a community developer, where the citizens—the voters—should always be given a voice. Did I have a right to even be here? Then a Swedish women walked up to the podium and told the witnesses in the room that Sweden was watching California, waiting for them to join their country in universal abolition of the death penalty, believing as I did that California had a history of inspiring, challenging and changing the country. It was then that I saw myself became a citizen of the state of California, not because I had bought a house here or spent $28 dollars on a California license, but because my heart was instantly connected to its citizens, as I realized that my humanity, the country’s humanity, and the world’s humanity lay in its hands. I realized that even if I am not a legal citizen of this state, it is still part of my home. It is a part of this country and part of this world, and the decisions that are made here are a reflection of the voices that are speaking the loudest. Fear usually causes people to scream. Love can cause people to sing, but we have to sing louder and in one unified voice without worrying if we have the right.
Sometimes it is good to stick to the rules, like those at the hearing who only spoke about the procedures. It may be the only way to be heard. Sometimes it is good to push past the boundaries, like the women from Sweden who spoke at a California State hearing. It may be the only way to be heard. Most of the time, it’s more powerful to do a little of both. People are always listening to conversations at various frequencies, and as messengers of human rights, dignity and love, it is our jobs to tap into all of those frequencies. And it is our job to unite.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
There is Abundance in Simplicity
Last night I had the happiest meal of my life. It was simple. The conversation was simple. The ingredients were simple. The table was simple. The love was simple.
The extended Metta family, meaning the my fellow mentees, our facilitators, and the Metta staff including Micheal Nagler ate together last night.
Pancho had come back from working the Free Farmer’s Market this weekend with beautiful greens and beets. Chris had some fresh zucchini from his backyard.
The ingredients were spread out on the counter and a team of five of us went to work making dinner for 15, but not before Chris asked, “Is this enough food? Do we need to get more?”
Jay chopped vegetables. Audrey prepared the tofu. I took the easy way out and took charge of boiling rice. Chris helped where ever he was needed, and Pancho used his imagination to create the most amazing salad dressing I’ve ever tasted! We talked as we prepared the food. Well, most of us talked as we prepared the food. For Pancho it was Silent Monday and he was deep in a day of silence. Although in many ways he was the most communicative of all. As he prepared his salad dressing he needed taste testers of course. And since he wasn’t speaking, he couldn’t demand, “Come over hear and taste this.” So, he came to us. With a leafy green dipped in dressing in his hands and a genuine smile on his face, he fed each of us the dressing looking for reactions to see what needed to be added. It was a beautiful moment in my eyes. A true moment of connection, service, and peace.
When the meal was ready we laid each of the dishes on a long table that was set up in the living room, and even the setting up of the table was done with love and laughter. Chris and Nick pulled five pieces of wood out from under the sofa in the living room and set up a table that was six inches off of the ground and fit fifteen people around the outside. Pillows were set around the outside plates were placed with forks for everyone.
We looked at the food was sitting in the middle and someone said, “This table right now is a paradigm of abundance.” We all smiled and laughed. Someone else said, “Do you remember when we started and weren’t sure that we had enough food?”
We ate our meal and told stories. Ketan added spices to some of the lentils so that we could have “real Indian dal” and we laughed at his excitement and the way the spice caught me by surprise and burned my mouth.
It sounds like a regular meal in so many regards, but the intention was different. Every moment, every step in preparation of the meal and every step in the actualization (pardon the awkwardness here, I’m trying not to use the word “execution”) was so full of love, service, connectedness and joy that the food tasted better.
I often feel awkward at dinner parties if everyone is speaking and I have no conversation to join. This time I did not. I felt surround by such good energy and love that it didn’t even cross my mind that I may have been out of place.
I feel that if I go on trying to describe this meal any longer that it will lose its magic, and my readers won’t understand anyway. So, I’m going to end here. But believe me when I say there is abundance in simplicity.
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