The Paper Washed in the Blood of My Handy Red Pen

~ Deb ~ 5 Comments

We would rather be ruined than changed,

We would rather die in our dread

Than climb the cross of the moment

And let our illusions die.

                        — W.H. Auden

I graded a paper tonight written by a self-proclaimed Christian student whose essay declared her fear about Barack Obama’s presidency.  Apparently, the main reason he frightens her is because he wants to bring peace to Palestine and Israel.   I had to wonder — do Christians no longer believe in peace?  Has peace become something that we should be afraid of?

This student’s paper went on to berate and belittle “those people” (Muslims) and explains how “we Americans” are right not to trust them.  She also perpetuated the lie, which I thought was long ago put to rest, that Barack Obama is a Muslim.  President Obama has declared his Christian faith about 200 times more than he should have needed to.  Is it now Christian to call someone a liar?  More importantly, have we crossed a de facto line into having a religious litmus test for holding public office?

I had to fight the urge to write in huge red letters on the last page “This paper is racist drivel and right-wing propaganda!”   But, my professorial authority stops just shy of ad hominem attacks.   Instead I simply pointed out the flawed premises upon which she had based her argument and then used all kinds of big words to explain her small grade.

My response to her paper, however,  did not remain completely limited to a critique of her style, tone, and mechanics.  I pointed out that I had been an American long before she was, and she certainly did not speak for me when she used such generalizations as “we Americans.”  Nor did I believe she was accurately representing the approximate 7,000,000 Muslim Americans who had an equal claim to the title of Citizen.

I recount this here especially for those of you who do not live in the general vicinity of Red Jesusland from whence I hail.  You might find it alarming and even mildly shocking to discover that this way of thinking is not only present, but bountiful here in the South.

When did ignorance become a tenet of faith?  When did “us versus them” become the standard for those who supposedly follow the dude who ate and talked with “them” every chance he got?  When did a religion of love become so dependent on having a group to demonize?  (And I know this is true, because I’m a member of one of those groups.)

I was raised in Christianity, but left it years ago.   Now I realize that’s not altogether true.  It did quite a bit of leaving too.

Dirt-Worshipping Tree-Hugger

~ Deb ~ 2 Comments

Every day, priests minutely examine the Dharma

And endlessly change complicated sutras.

Before doing that, though, they should learn how to read the love letters

     sent by the wind and the rain, the snow and the moon.

                                                               — Ikkyu

You may freely replace priests with ministers, rabbis, imams, gurus, or televangelists.

You may freely replace Dharma with Bible, Torah, Koran, or Bhagavad Gita.

You may freely replace sutras with commandments, verses, visions, prophesies, judgements or any other claim to know the mind and will of the universe.

Or you may just replace all the words ever known with those love letters from nature and be at peace.

Meditation on a Rose

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

I watch you.

So long that I forget about time.

So intently that I forget about space.

I watch you until I forget what you are called.

 

Eventually, I am no longer watching you.  

A watcher is separate, and I have become

the suede of your petals,

the sinew of your stalk,

the sting of your thorn,

the essence of your fragrance,

the photosynthesis of your leaves.

 

For a moment longer than time and

smaller than a split atom

you and I are one.

Never Wave a Brick Wall in Front of an Aries

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

The best way out is always through.

                                                   — Robert Frost

My regular readers should know by now that I am presently running in continual exhaustion mode.   After three straight weekends of chicken pen building, it would seem that a regular, non-working weekend would have been on the docket.   But then the “doghouse” blew down.

It happened on Wednesday.  The canvas-covered, tent-like garage structure that we were using for a dog shelter blew away in the winds that Oklahoma sent our way.    I spent Thursday and Friday planning and then Saturday and Sunday building a dog house.

It is a stunning structure.  I might have even momentarily channelled my grandfather during this process.  It is large enough for both of our big outdoor dogs (and probably a third, should we meet with temporary insanity again).  It has a peaked roof, which now is low enough to actually hold in body heat, thank you Soonerville.   And as soon as I get the wood siding and shingles on, I’ll post a picture.

On Saturday, I thought I might actually collapse.  Why is it that only celebrities can be hospitalized for exhaustion?  Either they’re really getting treated for something scandalous, or they’re pussies.  I have to question that whole “hospitalized-for-exhaustion” thing because I feel I’ve pushed myself about as far as humanly possible and didn’t need any medical attention.

Then on Sunday, I felt oddly refreshed.  I was still achy and tired, but it was a comfortable, familiar feeling.  I no longer felt like I was dying.   In fact, I felt like I was living.

I’m beginning to get into the zen of accomplishing something every day.  I’m really beginning to get into the zen of building things.  Working with wood seems natural to me.    However, I am not getting into the zen of lifting a 4’x8′ sheet of 3/4″ plywood over a fence by myself.

When I was little and didn’t feel good or was just tired or maybe just didn’t want to go to school, my mother’s answer was always, “Get up and move around and you’ll feel better.”    It really pissed me off when I was 10.    Between my genetic material and my Aries nature, there was no way I was going to have a life of leisure.

And there ain’t no gettin’ around that.