Tuesday gratefuls: The Geminid Meteor Showers, peaking on Dec. 13th. Kate. Always Kate. The cooling as we move deeper into December. Chickens and their eggs. Seeing, really seeing. Colors. Especially dark blues. Princeton paint brushes. Glass. A wonder on its own. [after finishing this. Lupron.]
As I wrote before, lupron clouds the source of my feelings. Here are three things this week that have moved me to tears.
Most recent. Reading about the North Dakota capital’s county commission voting to continue admitting immigrants. Compassion trumps Trump.
The videos of women singing the rapist is you (see video below) in protests across the world. Claiming your own power makes you powerful.
A dream I had the other night in which my mother hugged me.
People coming down on the side of compassion instead of cruelty. My heart stands with them, wherever and for whatever reason. Right now the North Dakota vote says no to humans in cages, to separated families, to the cold hearts and small minds resident in the White House. When humans act like humans, I’m shaken in a good way.
Empowerment, especially taking back power stolen by the patriarchy or whiteness or greed, reaches deep into me, makes me feel glad. Over againstness in the name of women, of people of color, of the poor is a sacred duty, a holy duty. When an oppressed group faces off against their oppressor, my heart sings, overwhelms me. Bless them all.
My mother died 45 years ago, her yahrzeit is in October. Since then, I can recall no dreams of her. I must have had some, but they disappear on waking. For the first time I remember in those 45 years, I dreamed of her. She was mute, curled in an almost fetal position, but awake and aware. She hugged me, smiled. I felt her warmth and her love. Her physicality.
She lay in a position very like the one in which I last saw her. We rode up together in an elevator for a surgery that failed to save her life. She was on a gurney. Her eyes looked away from me, but I could tell the stroke had made that the way she could see me best. Her lips moved and she said, “Son.” The last word I ever heard from her.
Tears come as I write this. The power of feeling her close to me, of her hug, so long gone. A dream long suppressed or repressed.
It felt to me as if the grief of her death had finally come to resolution, as if she were forgiving me and blessing me. Forgiving me for living on. Blessing me for living on. Breathtaking.
Maybe the lupron does not cloud the source of my feelings. Maybe it opens me, flushes out excuses I give myself for not being moved.
A confusing time for me. But. Not without its merits.
Monday gratefuls: Facebook. Yes, I know how evil it is, but I love it anyhow. Keeps me up with friends from faraway-in distance and time. Internet. Wow. Keeps on enthralling me (literally [sigh] and figuratively). This desktop computer that works. Always. My handheld computer which I rarely use as a phone. Electricity, whether from IREA, our solar panels, or our generator. And, by free association, Nicholas Tesla.
I’d like to apologize to all of you who read this about my near constant airing of my existential crisis. Must get old, but it’s on my mind. This is an online journal, meant to be an airing of what’s up, what’s current in my life and thinking. Not trying to be commercially friendly. Still, I like readers, so I hope I don’t lose you to the scattered thoughts about this guy’s attempt to grab hold of life. Again. And, again.
So. Whaddya think of this impeachment thing? I don’t know how to read it. Impeachment will happen, I’m sure. Removal from office will not. I’m pretty sure. In that case will we have accomplished anything as a body politic or will we have (or, have we already) baked the Trump bloc into our lives?
The separation of powers is, to me at least, sufficient reason to have proceeded. Congress needs to reassert its fiscal, policy, and military roles against an increasingly imperial presidency. Which, if we’re to be honest, Obama did a lot to nurture, too.
The shifting stances of the propagandists who want to keep Trump in office are not as friendly to democracy as we need them to be. The Trump faithful, an unreasoned but strong cult, is strengthened, not weakened by impeachment; they are driven more into each others arms. DJT right or wrong. Political differences, yes. Political battles, yes. But a devotional attitude toward this guy, no.
Where does all this lead us? I come from the rust belt. I know its politics, its people. I’m one of them. Those of my hometown who follow the Trump are many, but not varied. They have lost well-paying factory jobs, now in the long ago 1970’s, and nothing comparable has replaced them. Their community, Alexandria, which thrived while General Motors had Delco Remy and Guide Lamp in Anderson (25,000 jobs), has become a wasteland of dollar stores, boarded up businesses, and many homes with deferred maintenance. Where do they find hope?
The children of my classmates, who’ve known only this depressed economy, have a right to their disenchantment. We’ve earned it as a country by ignoring their needs. Their parents voted Democrat, understood strong unions, but the day the factories died, so did their political will. Trump has stepped into their hearts and into their children’s hearts. He and his kind will not be easily dislodged from them.
“…he who displays himself does not shine; he who asserts his own views is not distinguished; he who vaunts himself does not find his merit acknowledged; he who is self-conceited has no superiority allowed to him.” from Chapter 24, Tao Te Ching, Legge translation
In the same issue of the Post seventeen special prosecutors during Watergate say Trump has committed impeachable offenses. Also in the same issue is a recounting of Trump’s amazing, stupefying sermon to his congregation of red-hatted worshipers.
He called Ilhan Omar an America-hating socialist, then went on to denounce the entire Somali-American community. He heralded his recent executive order which gives cities and states the authority to refuse without their express written consent any refugee or immigrant resettlements. He recommended the crowd “speak to their mayor.”
Frey replied immediately on Twitter: “Consent given. Immigrants and refugees are welcome in Minneapolis.” The Minnesota I know well and love.
From the Warring States Period of China to today a person only committed to themselves is unfit to be a leader. We’re in an unusual crisis. This is the Presidency of our country made venal. Such a strong argument for the warning inscribed over the entrance to the Delphic Oracle in the Temple of Apollo: Know thyself.
BTW: if you’re wondering where the illustrations have gone, I’m experiencing a Word Press glitch on uploading images.
Great and unmatched wisdom. A supporter named diGenova has termed the House impeachment queries regicide. Refusing to comply with the House call for witnesses and documents. This is a dictator fantasy league with only one player. And, unfortunately, he’s our President.
My guess? His advisers, whoever they are today, have told him that he can win a faceoff with the House because the dispute will head to the Supreme Court where conservative justices are in the majority. If I’m right, and if the impeachment process goes to the Supreme Court, I think he’ll lose. Valorizers of the Constitution, that sacred writ handed down from the mountain top like certain tablets, cannot allow a breach of the separation of powers like the one Trump wants. At least I don’t they can.
Today is the equilux. Equal day and night. If you look at the equinox post a few days back, you’ll find an explanation. The equinox occurs when the sun passes over the earth’s equator. But the equal part of equinox doesn’t occur until 2 to 3 days later. September 26th this year. So enjoy the day because this is the last time there are 12 or more hours in a day for 172 days.
Beach people might be sad; but, we mountain folk are glad. You know, snow and cold. We actually look forward to it.
Soooo. Impeachment. Probable result. House votes for impeachment. Senate says, what? Nope. We don’t do that anymore. Does Trump deserve to be impeached? Oh, yes. Many times over. The Ukraine phone call. Geez. It shows both the naivete and the hubris. I’m doing it. It must be ok. Because I am, after all, President!
Divisive? Oh, yeah. Big time. This will serve as a lock down for Trump followers. No questions allowed. No deviation from MAGA faith. Let’s show’em in 2020. Trump forever. No mingling with the general population. In Trumpworld impeachment is only the most recent in the multiple so unfair attacks on this plain speaking, selfless billionaire who gave up his cushy life style for the hardball court of Washington level politics. It might make the line between Trump loyalists and the rest of us a yawning chasm, one not easily breached. Ever.
That is my fear. Even if impeachment is successful, that is the House votes for impeachment, the resulting ill will engendered in red and blue state Trumpists will calcify them into a quasi-permanent block destructive to our democracy.
A delicate question, one pondered many times by Democratic strategists, I’m sure. Even so, I believe this is the right thing to do. Why? Oddly, I’d say a primary reason is to reestablish decorum in the Presidency. Though I’m far from a traditionalist in almost any part of my life, there are arenas where expectations shaped over decades and even centuries serve a valid purpose. Diplomacy is one of those. Without challenging the sort of naked abuse of power that Trump’s just us guys mode of discourse easily devolves into, future Presidents will find it difficult to have confidential conversations with world leaders.
Also, Trump’s amoral politicization of disdain, mockery, and outright disregard for women, the disabled, people of color, other nations gives cover to racists, misogynists, ableists, and xenophobes. On this last point he said, at the U.N., that, “Globalism is over. The world belongs to patriots, to strong nations.” These may not be impeachable offenses, but each one disqualifies him as leader of a free and just people. They require a literal slap across the face. Impeachment is just such a slap.
What the future of our country might look like if Trump goes without firm, serious resistance concerns me. A lot. He’s Babbitt made President. Babbitt and Nathan Bedford Forrest plus a healthy dose of David Duke and Father James Coughlin. Of course he is also in the direct lineage of Joe McCarthy’s junkyard dog, Roy Cohn. These are fringe members of our commonwealth, driven by fear, by greed, by a much too narrow view of what it means to be human.
Strap in. Hang on. And pray for…well, nothing. Let’s rely on truth, justice and the America Way instead of thoughts and prayers this time.
Caveat: Got carried away here. Stuff that’s important to me, but long.
Alienation is killing Americans and Japanese. The age of American despair. American life expectancy has dropped again. This is what life without retirement savings looks like.
Nope, not me. Headlines from articles I noticed over the last couple of weeks. Part of the story is told in the three factors most related to American decline in life expectancy: obesity, suicide, and drug overdoses. Summed up: living lives of quiet desperation.
In Japan the kids have disappeared and left the country to the old folks. People die alone. Unnoticed. Unseen. Unknown.
“…the simultaneity of the different self-destroying trends is a brute fact of American life. And that simultaneity does not feel like just a coincidence, just correlation without entanglement — especially when you include other indicators, collapsing birthrates and declining marriage rates and decaying social trust, that all suggest a society suffering a meaning deficit, a loss of purpose and optimism and direction, a gently dehumanizing drift.” Douthat, NYT, Sept. 7, 2019
Douthat also says, and I agree with him, that: “Despair as a sociological phenomenon is rarely permanent: Some force, or forces, will supply new forms of meaning eventually.” op cit
He’s a Roman Catholic and a conservative so his hope will be that religion and traditional institutions like the family can reassert their culture shaping roles, provide forms of meaning relevant to this crisis.
Another conservative writer, David Byler, wrote in a Washington Post opinion piece that conservatives have already won the culture war. His argument rests on the positive opinion Americans have of the police, the military, and the continued strength of marriage, the family, and religion. These core institutions, beloved of conservatives, are ok, he says, and prove that conservatives have “the winning hand” in the next election.
Can this despair can be handled by leaning into the familiar, the tried, the true? Seems unlikely to me since marriage and the family, religious institutions exist now, are readily available, and yet the despair rises. And, neither the military nor the police can answer because their roles are defensive, reactive to social forces. They’re not shapers or builders. They’re enforcers after the fact.
I see this despair as a disturbing inflection point created by a world in dramatic transformation. Interlocked global economies. Populations shifting locations, putting immigrant pressure on receiving societies and draining resources from the sending ones. A planet shifting from one climate regime to a less forgiving one for humans. Nativist and xenophobic politics which express the despair through anger, rage at the other upsetting democratic institutions worldwide.
I appreciated Douthat’s reminder that despair is rarely permanent. New forms of meaning will arise, as he projects. But from where? Not sure I know.
Scott Nearing, economist and author of a favorite book of mine, Living the Good Life, proposes a mixed economy. The issue is not one, Nearing argues, of a single economic model to rule them all. Rather, we should be making decisions about what aspects of culture belong to which economic model. Roads and infrastructure, schooling, law enforcement, the military, the legal system operate within a socialist model where we all chip in to assure ourselves of educated children, decent roads and bridges, protection against criminals and foreign enemies. Selling cars, fast food, jewelry, books, bicycles and the like operate within a capitalist model. But what about affordable housing and medical care? What about support for the unemployed or the victims of Schumpeter’s creative destruction?
As in Nearing’s approach to economics, I believe the answer to the despair engendered by a transforming global culture lies in a mixed political response. That is, we need to support some institutions conservatives love: marriage, the family, law enforcement, and the military because they are core to a sense of social security, a feeling of safety. Let’s set aside religion for now. We don’t have to support those institutions in the same way conservatives would. That is, we can favor marriage between persons who love each other while recognizing the non-binary nature of human sexuality. Similar thoughts can apply to the other three.
But, these institutions exist in political and economic contexts that have profound effects on their well-being. Is housing affordable? Is there work for you that pays a living wage? Can you get the medical care you need when you need it? What it will be like for you when you retire? Can you retool yourself for a new career? Are your children receiving the sort of education they need to thrive?
Let’s return now to religion. And, the arts. Bread and roses. “The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too.” Rose Schneiderman, an organizer for the Women’s Trade Union of New York. Bread and Roses wiki
Positive changes to the economic and social conditions of oppression are, said another way, critical and necessary; but, they are not sufficient. The spirit must be fed, too. Everyone has a right to realize and live out their ikigai.
What religion does, at its best, is help folks develop a coherent view of life’s meaning and create a support system to help them realize it. At its worst religion pretends to have found the only meaning and creates a phalanx of enforcers for that view.
The arts also feed the soul. But they are often kept behind an elite curtain wall of high ticket prices, imposing museum corridors, and a presumed sine qua non of education to appreciate.
If we’re looking for areas outside the rough and tumble of politics for dealing with despair, both religion and the arts can play significant roles. It is here, I believe, that new meaning will arise, will begin to integrate world economies, help us adapt to climate change even as we fight its worsening, enable us to see the other not as a threat, but as a potential new friend, fellow worker, marriage partner.