Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Dark Times...And Yet
Darkest time of the year...and yet, there is still beauty. There is still joy. There is still something wonderful coming.
And if we have lost this sense of awe and purpose, then we shall have to go out and find it again.
*****
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Mothers' Manifesto
We have — at minimum — two [unrelated] people among our commenters at Firedoglake who were involved in the resolution of the Irish struggles who are engaged with trying to bring the current situation in Gaza to the attention of the world.
After a certain number of decades/centuries of enmity both sides must agree to pull back and say, no more orphans.
No more children with arms and legs blown off.
No more people dying from stupid reasons like lack of medical supplies.
No more bombing hospitals and universities.
No more taking 18 year olds and throwing them into the furnace of war. It is wrong. It is immoral. The mothers of the world will tolerate it no longer.
*****
crossposted at firedoglake oxdown 1 jan 2009
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Too Bad It's Parody
crossposted 12 Nov 2008 at firedoglake
NY Times Announces End of War in Iraq
NY Times Announces End of War in Iraq
Waiting for the real thing here.
UPDATE: NYT is a good sport about the whole thing
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
O Holy Night
crossposted at firedoglake 24 december 2007
Wishing you all the most precious gifts, the ones no money can buy:
Joy
Community
Inner peace
Courage
Hope
A word about hope:
The word *yet*
“I can’t do that” becomes “I can’t do that…yet”
“We don’t have the answers” turns into “We don’t have the answers…yet”
Whatever your tradition, you can tap into the message of hope for the future. Believe in something better, and take the first tiny steps in that direction. Astonishing things can happen.
*******
Josh Groban singing at the tree lighting ceremony, Rockfeller Center, 4 December 2002
Monday, April 09, 2007
Hey from Russia
Written Easter Sunday
Hey from Russia. I was sitting at the window looking at two white horses and a carriage in the light April snow, enjoying my beef stroganoff and wifi, when the wifi went poof. I suppose all dreams must end at some point. But the horses are really cool.
We work tomorrow. Hope you guys had/are having a glorious Easter. Christianity is under assault not least from wingers that have a very odd interpretation of love your neighbor. Am trying to do the peacemaker thingie and it’s tough going. I feel I was called by God at an early age to do this work, and trust that He knows what He is doing.
The beauty of being mentally ill [not the phrase you hear every day] is that when regular life is difficult, you might as well do something really hard, because it’s not much different.
*******
Hey from Russia. I was sitting at the window looking at two white horses and a carriage in the light April snow, enjoying my beef stroganoff and wifi, when the wifi went poof. I suppose all dreams must end at some point. But the horses are really cool.
We work tomorrow. Hope you guys had/are having a glorious Easter. Christianity is under assault not least from wingers that have a very odd interpretation of love your neighbor. Am trying to do the peacemaker thingie and it’s tough going. I feel I was called by God at an early age to do this work, and trust that He knows what He is doing.
The beauty of being mentally ill [not the phrase you hear every day] is that when regular life is difficult, you might as well do something really hard, because it’s not much different.
*******
Monday, March 19, 2007
Music --- The Road Not Taken
Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away --- ok Middletown, Ohio --- I was destined to be a musician.
On piano I could sightread nearly anything written before 1920 and played with abandon. I took flute lessons from a man in the Cincinnati Symphony, wonderful person who corrected my mistakes not by criticism, but by saying I could do better.
My piccolo, a Christmas present, carried me thru high school and college and all the way to Carnegie Hall and Kennedy Center. The Washington Post said our [Cornell] symphony played better than the local orchestra. Probably this was due to the deficiencies of the National Symphony rather than anything stellar about us.
Our director, Karel Husa of Czechoslovakia, was quite tempermental. I forgave him his tantrums because they were always in the service of superior music. He won the Pulitzer Prize just as I began college. One of my favorite memories of him was our walking toward Carnegie Hall for our concert there in '73. I ran up to him and asked the famous joke question, How do you get to Carnegie Hall? And he shook his head, "I don't know." I had to explain the joke.
At my 40th birthday I examined my Dream List and decided to go for at least one major dream. It was singing lessons, which I did for three years and had some small roles at church.
For fun I taught myself how to play organ and became the emergency backup organist at church. This was a long way from being a child who came close to the organ at church and was sharply scolded DON'T TOUCH THAT, she didn't know or didn't care that I was a piano virtuoso, and it was another 30 years until I played organ for real. But what a pleasure to learn. I play with bare feet, to the great amusement of the children in the choirs.
I simultaneously began composing music for voice and piano with 15 or so copyrights. I'm especially proud of one piece which is original music and lyrics about depression, asking God if He has forgotten me. For giving back to the community I was the accompanist for children's choirs at church and at the local elementary school, and was the treasurer for the middle school band for nearly a decade, even after my children had graduated.
Each of my three children performed at the Kennedy Center in separate events. I fear to add up the number of music lessons they had. One learned to play numerous instruments and had perfect pitch. One took up my lovely instruments and performed at the national level. One took up both instrumental and vocal music and also had perfect pitch. Thank God for these amazing creatures.
It was a severe challenge to encourage my children to take up music, which was an integral part of my life, without demanding so much that they would simply quit. One of them could have been a prodigy but I refused to go that route, I know too many young people who were forced to play and quit it entirely later. How to encourage them enough to develop, without overwatering them.
So why didn't I become a musician? I struggled with this in high school and college. It was what made me happy, yet there were so many egregious problems in the world, I felt I needed to be involved in helping to find the solutions. One final turning point came when this lovely Czech conductor had me play a Rachmaninoff concerto with the Cornell symphony one night at rehearsal, bless his heart. After that I realized I needed to work for world peace more than I needed to play music.
I have often joked to my Russian medical colleagues that they should be grateful I didn't win the Tchaikovsky Prize in high school, else they would be struggling without my input. Music is the road not taken. It would have made me happy, but I chose to make others happy. In so doing I have helped to save 3,000 lives. Was it the right choice?
*******
On piano I could sightread nearly anything written before 1920 and played with abandon. I took flute lessons from a man in the Cincinnati Symphony, wonderful person who corrected my mistakes not by criticism, but by saying I could do better.
My piccolo, a Christmas present, carried me thru high school and college and all the way to Carnegie Hall and Kennedy Center. The Washington Post said our [Cornell] symphony played better than the local orchestra. Probably this was due to the deficiencies of the National Symphony rather than anything stellar about us.
Our director, Karel Husa of Czechoslovakia, was quite tempermental. I forgave him his tantrums because they were always in the service of superior music. He won the Pulitzer Prize just as I began college. One of my favorite memories of him was our walking toward Carnegie Hall for our concert there in '73. I ran up to him and asked the famous joke question, How do you get to Carnegie Hall? And he shook his head, "I don't know." I had to explain the joke.
At my 40th birthday I examined my Dream List and decided to go for at least one major dream. It was singing lessons, which I did for three years and had some small roles at church.
For fun I taught myself how to play organ and became the emergency backup organist at church. This was a long way from being a child who came close to the organ at church and was sharply scolded DON'T TOUCH THAT, she didn't know or didn't care that I was a piano virtuoso, and it was another 30 years until I played organ for real. But what a pleasure to learn. I play with bare feet, to the great amusement of the children in the choirs.
I simultaneously began composing music for voice and piano with 15 or so copyrights. I'm especially proud of one piece which is original music and lyrics about depression, asking God if He has forgotten me. For giving back to the community I was the accompanist for children's choirs at church and at the local elementary school, and was the treasurer for the middle school band for nearly a decade, even after my children had graduated.
Each of my three children performed at the Kennedy Center in separate events. I fear to add up the number of music lessons they had. One learned to play numerous instruments and had perfect pitch. One took up my lovely instruments and performed at the national level. One took up both instrumental and vocal music and also had perfect pitch. Thank God for these amazing creatures.
It was a severe challenge to encourage my children to take up music, which was an integral part of my life, without demanding so much that they would simply quit. One of them could have been a prodigy but I refused to go that route, I know too many young people who were forced to play and quit it entirely later. How to encourage them enough to develop, without overwatering them.
So why didn't I become a musician? I struggled with this in high school and college. It was what made me happy, yet there were so many egregious problems in the world, I felt I needed to be involved in helping to find the solutions. One final turning point came when this lovely Czech conductor had me play a Rachmaninoff concerto with the Cornell symphony one night at rehearsal, bless his heart. After that I realized I needed to work for world peace more than I needed to play music.
I have often joked to my Russian medical colleagues that they should be grateful I didn't win the Tchaikovsky Prize in high school, else they would be struggling without my input. Music is the road not taken. It would have made me happy, but I chose to make others happy. In so doing I have helped to save 3,000 lives. Was it the right choice?
*******
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The dove and the kindergarten child
As if to underscore yesterday's post on spiritual communication with animals, today there was a dove trapped in my garage, banging into the windows looking for escape. Finally she rested on one window sill, probably wondering what next, the urgent question for those of us with OCD. I spoke to her calmly as I gradually eased closer, explaining that I would open the other garage door for her but it would be noisy, and not to be afraid. The door opened with what was probably an awful sound to a small bird. She waited without flinching. Then I slowly came closer and moved my arms in the direction of the open door. She flew out.
A dove, sign of peace, as we rush to another war of aggression, against a country that is by all accounts YEARS away from even having a nuclear weapon, Iran. Will the mainstream media report on the 2003 diplomatic overture from Iran through the Swiss which offered to settle all outstanding obstacles? Of course our leaders threw it in the wastebasket. Can they pick it up again and smooth out the wrinkles?
I fear there will be a false flag incident which will be blamed on Iran. They have even given us little clues, that "Iranian" mines are endangering U.S. ships. So when the newspapers report that Iran has "attacked" one of our ships and we must go to war, what will we do? God help us.
I was trying to silence my mental white noise today and listen to the still small voice of God. Sometimes there are sufficient coincidences that even I must admit they rise to the level of synchronicities, events which are spiritually related. On the way to an appointment I planned to go to the bank's drive-thru. But there were delays.
First, the above mentioned dove. Then, a construction detour on my customary route. Finally, an extended stop for a school bus waiting for a kindergarten child to get everything organized for the big step off the bus. It took so long that the driver closed the bus door and let a couple cars go on. But I waited to see the outcome. Finally the wee lad came forth and crossed the street to his waiting mother. They have 6th graders as patrol guards in the morning and afternoon, but the mid-day kindergarten busses need them as well. Perhaps parents of five yr olds are sufficiently involved that this treacherous crossing of the dangerous street is guarded well enough.
Those of us who follow national politics, including the Libby trial, observe that there are some other treacherous crossings to concern us, and I wonder if we have enough patrol guards.
.
A dove, sign of peace, as we rush to another war of aggression, against a country that is by all accounts YEARS away from even having a nuclear weapon, Iran. Will the mainstream media report on the 2003 diplomatic overture from Iran through the Swiss which offered to settle all outstanding obstacles? Of course our leaders threw it in the wastebasket. Can they pick it up again and smooth out the wrinkles?
I fear there will be a false flag incident which will be blamed on Iran. They have even given us little clues, that "Iranian" mines are endangering U.S. ships. So when the newspapers report that Iran has "attacked" one of our ships and we must go to war, what will we do? God help us.
I was trying to silence my mental white noise today and listen to the still small voice of God. Sometimes there are sufficient coincidences that even I must admit they rise to the level of synchronicities, events which are spiritually related. On the way to an appointment I planned to go to the bank's drive-thru. But there were delays.
First, the above mentioned dove. Then, a construction detour on my customary route. Finally, an extended stop for a school bus waiting for a kindergarten child to get everything organized for the big step off the bus. It took so long that the driver closed the bus door and let a couple cars go on. But I waited to see the outcome. Finally the wee lad came forth and crossed the street to his waiting mother. They have 6th graders as patrol guards in the morning and afternoon, but the mid-day kindergarten busses need them as well. Perhaps parents of five yr olds are sufficiently involved that this treacherous crossing of the dangerous street is guarded well enough.
Those of us who follow national politics, including the Libby trial, observe that there are some other treacherous crossings to concern us, and I wonder if we have enough patrol guards.
.
Friday, February 02, 2007
My ADD interferes with my OCD
True quote from my best friend. We were discussing the joys of being both ADD and OCD when she came up with this gold. Need to think about the implications.
May I ramble on a bit? All right, you say, and in fact necessary to identify a post as being uniquely mine. Not kind of unique, sort of unique, nearly unique, [uniquer--per egSon] thank you lovely children who know this pet peeve. It is either one of a kind or not. Unique or not unique. /rant.
As to rambling, you might think this was the very sign of me posting, rather like looseheadprop's spelling errors at firedoglake. It's how we know it is her speaking.
This lovely friend came over today, as every Friday, to help in whatever way I needed for the Russian Medical Fund work. Today the agenda was to keep the president from quitting. Again. But rather seriously this time.
According to my friend, there are still children who will die without our help, and no one will take my place if I quit [what is WRONG with this world], and I probably am strong enough to keep doing this work. Gratuitous swear word inserted here. I apparently continue to have the obligation and the opportunity to save lives if only I will keep going. So be it. But I hope it's worth the cost.
We operated on a child from Tadzhikistan, who came to us from another center that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. The parents SOLD THEIR HOUSE to pay for his first surgery at the other institution, and they nearly killed him. They at least had the conscience to send him on to us. We did his repair, undoing their strange cutting and pasting, and now he has a chance at a normal life.
I watched the re-do surgery and sat with the mother, who was understandably hysterical, as her son came from surgery to the ICU. I explained to her that the surgery went well, was perfectly normal, yet her son would look strange being under anaesthesia and with tubes sticking into him. We spoke in Russian, which was her second language and mine. Yet as mothers we communicated at a higher level. She trusted me since I too had children.
That's the good news. The bad news: there are people in the city where I work who are actively trying to shut down our program, which saves the lives of 350 children a year.
Why? To bring a trickle of federal money toward their own program, so they can have a small and weak program that kills more patients than they save. They want to expand their own program at the cost of killing ours.
Can you hear my response? Their inability to see beyond themselves is evil.
Yet at some level I am sympathetic. It is always hard to see beyond oneself, or beyond one's own organization. But in this case, for them to succeed, children will die. I WILL RESIST.
My alcohol counselor is unhappy. Better I should withdraw from this struggle and work on my own sanity. What is morally right here?
I have already decided to withdraw from the issue of war and peace between the United States and Iraq/Iran/et cetera, for the benefit aof my sanity. Must I leave my work of 10+ years as well?
May I ramble on a bit? All right, you say, and in fact necessary to identify a post as being uniquely mine. Not kind of unique, sort of unique, nearly unique, [uniquer--per egSon] thank you lovely children who know this pet peeve. It is either one of a kind or not. Unique or not unique. /rant.
As to rambling, you might think this was the very sign of me posting, rather like looseheadprop's spelling errors at firedoglake. It's how we know it is her speaking.
This lovely friend came over today, as every Friday, to help in whatever way I needed for the Russian Medical Fund work. Today the agenda was to keep the president from quitting. Again. But rather seriously this time.
According to my friend, there are still children who will die without our help, and no one will take my place if I quit [what is WRONG with this world], and I probably am strong enough to keep doing this work. Gratuitous swear word inserted here. I apparently continue to have the obligation and the opportunity to save lives if only I will keep going. So be it. But I hope it's worth the cost.
We operated on a child from Tadzhikistan, who came to us from another center that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. The parents SOLD THEIR HOUSE to pay for his first surgery at the other institution, and they nearly killed him. They at least had the conscience to send him on to us. We did his repair, undoing their strange cutting and pasting, and now he has a chance at a normal life.
I watched the re-do surgery and sat with the mother, who was understandably hysterical, as her son came from surgery to the ICU. I explained to her that the surgery went well, was perfectly normal, yet her son would look strange being under anaesthesia and with tubes sticking into him. We spoke in Russian, which was her second language and mine. Yet as mothers we communicated at a higher level. She trusted me since I too had children.
That's the good news. The bad news: there are people in the city where I work who are actively trying to shut down our program, which saves the lives of 350 children a year.
Why? To bring a trickle of federal money toward their own program, so they can have a small and weak program that kills more patients than they save. They want to expand their own program at the cost of killing ours.
Can you hear my response? Their inability to see beyond themselves is evil.
Yet at some level I am sympathetic. It is always hard to see beyond oneself, or beyond one's own organization. But in this case, for them to succeed, children will die. I WILL RESIST.
My alcohol counselor is unhappy. Better I should withdraw from this struggle and work on my own sanity. What is morally right here?
I have already decided to withdraw from the issue of war and peace between the United States and Iraq/Iran/et cetera, for the benefit aof my sanity. Must I leave my work of 10+ years as well?
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