Movement Backwards?

Winter   Waning Wolf Moon

At the Woolly meeting last Monday I said it encouraged me that a movement had begun to build that saw protecting the environment as a priority personally and politically.  Then I read the Pew and Rasmussen polls that said support for renewables and work against climate change has softened over the last six months to a year.

That contradicts my statement and made me sit back a moment.  Of course, one way to interpret that data takes into account the sudden, severe shock that the financial crisis has dealt our country and so many families within it.  With immediate peril something abstract and seemingily distant could have less priority.  I imagine that’s part of it.

Another possibility fingers the cynical disinformation crowd that works so hard to discredit the science.  They hope confusion and doubt will cause people to back away from the issue or at least set it down as one to complicated to consider.

The cold winter (.22 degrees above average according to Paul Douglas this morning) and thickening of the Arctic sea ice has affected some people.

Whatever the reason I do know that I have met more and more people who have dedicate serious amounts of time and energy and wealth to moving this country in the direction of Thomas Berry’s Great Work:  making sure we see in our lifetime the transition from a malign human presence on the earth to a benign one.  Whether an increasing movement or not, I’ve thrown my lot in with them and choose to remain there as long I have health and time.  Numbers do not now and have not ever determined truth.

A Cynic’s Surprise

Winter    Waning Wolf Moon

MPR broadcast the confirmation hearing of Ted Geithner while I went to the grocery store and picked up my print.  It changed my thinking.

The world weariness of all these Reagan clouded years, even during the Clinton presidency, has affected me, taken the glitter off my enthusiasm for Obama.  His election lifted my spirits, made me cry, attacked my cynicism.  I was glad.  Somehow, between then and now, the realization that Obama would be the 44th President sank in and the thought of 2 wars, the economic crisis, health care reform, climate change and a man with little personal political capital pushed me down again.

Listening to Geithner, though, buoyed me up.  The old free-market über alles rhetoric has disappeared.  Keynesian economic assumptions underlay his responses. He agreed, too, that health care reform preceded any monkeying with the specifics of medicare.

This may not sound like much, but anyone sensitive to economic patter would immediately recognize the difference between this man and the distant authority of Paulson or the doom machine of the Bush Whitehouse.  It made this cynic’s heart thaw a little, hope again.  Maybe, just maybe, the game has changed.

The Now

Winter  Waning Wolf Moon

“Forever is composed of nows.” – Emily Dickinson

Now is all we ever have.  The Buddha lived this truth into a faith.  We forget it often, living instead in a land filled with regrets and shame, or in a world flooded with anxieties.  Too little do we consider the lilies.  The rose beside us goes unnoticed in our rush to get to the next spot on our calendar, any spot but the one in which we find ourselves at the moment, the now.

This notion seems magical the more you dwell on it.  A focus on the moment, a determined grasp of the gestalt of now has the effect of letting regrets fall away, for they are in the past and calming anxieties, for they are in the future and the now is neither past nor future. It is now.

We can deal with this moment, this particular segment of our existence, the only part of our existence in which we are, ever.  It is those past moments which somehow found us lacking or those future moments in which our fears inhere that drag us away from serenity.  It does not need to be so.

Meditation can train us to focus on our breathing, our physical presence.  It can help us deal with the monkey mind that scrambles this way and that, shaking a stick of worry or throwing a rock of shame.  Even meditation, though, only trains us.  It trains us for life in the moment.

If you can, stop a moment.  Right now. Notice your feet, your hands.  Breathe in and breathe out.  Take a few deep breaths, use the diaphragm.  Notice the thoughts that come to you.  Notice them and let them go, let them pass on through.  They, too, have a journey.

This is all you know and all you need to know.  Right now.  Pregnant moment.  Your eternity.

Finally. A Democrat.

Winter     Waning Wolf Moon

That Obama guy is cool.  He walked out to his inauguration with a calm dignity.  He has endured the pomp and circumstance quite well, at least by outward appearance.

His speech reminded me that oratory has not lost its power to move us, to slip a knife in with delicacy, to create a new political atmosphere.   I cut out a few excerpts and reprinted them below.  Each one of them speaks to me, but I highlighted the portions that drove home matters especially important in my view:

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology’s wonders to raise health care’s quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories.

They (cynics) have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control — and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter’s courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent’s willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Inaugration Day. Bright, Sunny. Cold

Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

The day has begun well.  Sunshine comes from a sky with cirrus clouds, a nice break after the cloudy weather.

Today Obama becomes the 44th president of the United States.  After our discussion last night at the Woollies, I realize I do run on a different political path than most.  The politics I care most about happen because citizens, folks like you and me, make them happen: neighborhood economic development, movement toward single payer health plans and initiatives that promote a sustainable human presence on mother earth.

The players in Washington create the atomsphere in which local politics occur.  That is, a president like George Bush can make federal level policy and bureaucratic administration so obstructive that local politics become shoring up of dikes, attempts to stave off catastrophe in poor communities or in rivers and streams, woodlands and lakes.  In the best case a president like Obama can make local politics the art of adapting federal level initiatives to particular places, particular situations while continuing the local political level work that has no federal equivalent.

Whether Obama can turn the great ship US Bureaucracy and Law very far from its collision course with the natural world remains to be seen.  Presidents don’t matter much to me unless, as in George W. Bush’s case and Ronald Reagan’s, they ignore science, shove aside the poor and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t matter.   Yes, they entangle us in wars and produce fiscal policy that either mainline’s greed or provides reasonable checks and balances, and, yes, these matters are of crucial importance to certain people in certain situations; but my day to day reality, the politics of economic justice and the politics of sound ecology, must go forward no matter what the national government does.

So, I hope Obama will prove helpful in some way, but I’m not counting on it.  We still have to push the Clean Car initiatives and Mining without Harm.  Programs to help folks get back to work have to get money from somewhere.  Affordable housing has to get built.

In my youth I believed, along with many of my contemporaries, that a mass movement could push the federal government into stopping a war, creating a just economic society and dismantling racial barriers.  Now I understand that it is much more important to keep on working at the local level, doing those things that are necessary to  move what can be moved.  Why?  Because anticipating the federal government will, with a single whoosh, solve a problem is like imagining Daddy can come and solve everyone of your problems.  Can Dad help?  Sure.  But only if you’re ready and able to receive help.  That’s the local politics.  And it goes on whether Richard Nixon or Bill Clinton is in office, Ronald Reagan or Jimmy Carter, and, yes, George W. Bush or Barack Obama.

Woolly Mammoth Meeting.

Just drove in from Minneapolis and another Woolly meeting.  Road spray coated the windshield as snow spit out from a darkened, starless sky.

We met and discussed the financial situation around supper.  Almost uniform pessissism and gloom.  It felt weird to me to have this kind of conversation in Charlie Haislet’s top floor, two level condominium with its rooftop garden, first floor balcony and its grand view of downtown.   We, as a group, while not uniform in our resources are uniform in that none of us face starvation, homelessness or even severe disruption.  Have some of us lost thousands, even hundreds of thousands of paper dollars?  Yes.  Does that make us poor?  No.

The worst that could happen is that some of us might have to downsize our homes, live more modestly.  Does that mean a diminished quality of life?  No.

After supper we discussed the next four years and our assessment of where our country would be at the end of Obama’s first administration.  There was a surprising (to me) note of optimism that dominated.  Some of this seemed to be a hope that Obama as an African-American changes the playing field by his presence on it.  Some of it seem to be a hope that we will work our way through the changes in the fiscal situation because we must.  Charlie H worries that an Obama administration will take their eye off the security ball and we will have a nation less safe.  He also worries that throwing government money at the problem is nonsense.  I did not follow that part of what he said.

Frank thought a lot of unprintable things.

Discussing and Dissenting

Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

Into the city for a meeting of the docent discussion group.  We had a drawing and Bill Bomash won my extra copy of Seven Days in the Art World.   More people showed up than I expected.   We had an interesting, lively discussion of ideas for next meetings and resources we use for art history research.

Another discussion followed on some of the positives of touring and some of the sore points. All agreed that better signage would be a good place to upgrade public connections with the public tours.  We also wondered why it proved so difficult to get a recognized hearing for our concerns.  The discussion group decided this was not its responsibility, so we passed these ideas on to others who may find a way to act on them.

Twilight has begun to fall here.  Another winter night is on the way.  I’m on the way to chez Haislet atop Riverpoint condominiums in the old warehouse district.  The Woolly Mammoths.

Brooding Over the Landscape

Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

(note:  Weather reporting has moved to the Star-Tribune WeatherBlogs and my two weather websites, all of these have links under Andover Weather + on the right hand side bar.)

Last night I watched a bit of the Ravens and the Steelers.  As a Midwesterner my sympathies were with the rust bucket team from the Steel City.  They won. Now I have a half-hearted dog in the superbowl.  No, wait.  That was Michael Vick.  Anyhow.

Weather has become unremarkable.  Ordinary, garden variety winter in gray clothes, brooding over the landscape.  Though the temperature is more bearable, 10 degrees feels quite nice, the weather itself has taken on a dull tone.  We like variety here in the Upper Midwest and  our position in the center of North America gives it to us.  There are no mountains or oceans here to mediate or moderate; we get what rolls down from the north or blows up from the Gulf or over from the west.

We thrive on change.  When the weather becomes dull, it throws us back on other projects like work or chores.  Come on sky!

I wrote four pages yesterday on Red Earth, my first person account of what it was like to become Adam.  More today.

Of late, I’ve begun waking up at 6:00 AM.  I do not want to get up until 7:00 AM, that’s the whole point of my new routine.  At least for now I’ve chosen to lie there and think.   It’s quiet, I’m fully rested and an hours worth of thought seems a useful way to occupy myself until 7:00 AM.

Now onto the mind of Adam.

I Have Not Mentioned Adam

5  rises 29.92  NWN0  windchill 5  Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

A full day Permaculture workshop.  This guy, who takes a nap every day around 1pm, suffers in mid-day at day long events.  In addition, I find that my mind gets overloaded, takes in too much.  It’s not that I can’t absorb and eventually integrate the material, but the pace of absorption has changed over time.  I need space between intake and digestion.  A day’s worth of basically new material wears me out.

When I came back, Kate asked me what I’d learned and I had troubling with a clear answer.  The exhaustion played a factor, yes, but the tumbling pieces, the changing paragdigms and the altogether novel still raced around inside, had not come down to a place of rest. Tomorrow, next week.  Better.

Rest tonight.  Then I’ll work on Adam tomorrow.  I haven’t mentioned Adam yet, have I?  He’s taken over my thinking lately. What was it like, I wondered?  What was it like to wake up, come to consciousness, breathe that first breath? What happened in the mind and heart of Adam when God blew into his nostrils?

Out of the House. At Last.

7  steep fall 30.38  ENE2  windchill 7  Winter

Waning Wolf Moon

Spent a morning at the museum.  The first time I got out of the house since Monday. Thanks to telecommuting I did committee work for the Sierra Club on Monday and Wednesday, research each day.  So this cold snap came and went with my outside experiences limited to snow blowing, shoveling, paper and mail retrieving.  It got cold.  -28 this morning at 8AM.

Starting Monday on the Star-Tribune Weatherblog page you will find me under Twin Cities Metro.  I got a sneak peek at the site today and it looks very professional.  This will be in addition to the Citizen Weather Observer Program webpage and the Davis Weatherlink webpage that take live-feed from my station.  I think I do have some instrument adjustment issues to iron out and come connectivity with the CWOP folks, but otherwise we pump info out into the public datastream every five minutes or less 24/7.  Another techno advantage.

The second graders I had today at the museum were bright, engaged kids.  But.  They recognized George Washington but did not know who he was.  One girl wondered if George Washington was G. W. Bush’s father.  The three African-American kids did not know where Africa was.  I sat with them and tried to get a few facts installed, but I had so little time with them.  I love second graders though, they were so eager.  So willing.  If only the world would not beat up on them, they could overcome this knowledge deficit.