So much of our ingrown and inbred and socially-enculturated prejudice prevents many of us from actually growing in community with others. As many of you know, I attend an Anglican parish church where the majority of the members are, if not stinking wealthy, at least fairly comfortable. Middle to upper middle class, almost all conventionally caucasian, British roots, natch. For someone like me, single, queer, gender non-binary, highly creative, very involved in my Christian vocation, and very poor, it is really challenging to find common ground with a lot of those people that isn't to be found strictly within the parameters of our shared faith and Christian experience and witness.
I don't think there is any ill intention involved here, rather, middle class Christians often are hobbled by middle class thinking, and this makes their lives into a kind of impregnable fortress. They unconsciously manage to keep anyone out, or at a safe distance, who doesn't share almost all their values and lifestyle choices and preferences. Like a kind of socially-construed firewall that protects a lot of them from people like me. As though I'm a virus that needs to remain screened out. This is not usually intentional. It is unconscious, and I don't think that any of them are even aware that they are doing it. But this can make connecting meaningfully with others, for outsiders like me, difficult, and after a while tiring, painful and demoralizing.
It isn't that I am not valued by these people. I think that at least some of them value me, and would sincerely like to reach out more. And I certainly value them, otherwise I would not be reaching out to any of them in friendship. But this leaves me feeling less than valued, and inclined to give up after a while, withdraw and become bitter and resentful. And those same nice middle class Anglicans usually don't have a clue that they are casting this kind of shadow, nor of how it impacts, chills and freezes out the stranger who lives in their midst.
I am not confident that this is going to change much. It is difficult bringing it to people's attention because they are going to become defensive, feel judged and misunderstood. Well, my message to you guys is this:
Of course you are going to feel misunderstood and judged. People always do when they have no idea how they are affecting those who end up getting hurt in their midst. But the truth is, I have to struggle to understand you people, as well, and I also have to struggle to not judge any of you. Just as some of you must also have to struggle to not judge or misunderstand me. But I am going to ask you to take an extra step with me. I know that your lives are already very busy, full of family and lovely friends, and colleagues and that you simply have no room, or very little room left for others, especially if we are not like you. So, this is my challenge. Do something about it. Make room. Reach out. Make time for me, and for others who are like me. You may not realize it, but I also have a busy life, with people in my life. I could get along very nicely without any of you, but that is also rather selfish thinking and inimical to forming community.
I also know that for real Christian community to form and grow, we have to extend ourselves more, all of us, and this also means making an effort to make room in our lives, in our homes, or at least in the local coffee shop, maybe just one afternoon a month, to befriend and get to know the other, which I still am in your midst. Fortunately there are a couple of people at St. Faith's who are doing this with me.....
More please....
I do hope that one day that some of you will start thinking outside of the lovely little boxes you have constructed for yourselves. But I'm not expecting it. I know better.
All for now, Ducks!
Friday 31 January 2020
Thursday 30 January 2020
It's All performance Art 95
We value others in the abstract. It is like the old expression: "I love humanity. But I can't stand people." I know what this is like. The most altruistic virtue signallers are often the most irritable grouches, in private anyway. I know this, because I happen to be one of those high-falutin hypocrites. It can be a challenge getting through the crowds of idiots downtown without having already consigned almost every single one to the outer darkness, especially if they are smoking on the sidewalk and I have to dodge them in order to not inhale their toxic waste. And don't get me started about the excessive and ridiculous love that almost everyone seems to have for their pet doggies, while ignoring homeless beggars that are huddled on the pavement, or the young tech junkies giving their thumbs carpal tunnel on their dear little Precious. Or people who shouldn't be allowed to sit anywhere behind a steering wheel. I could go on.
The streets are full of mindless idiots. They appear mindless because they really don't have a clue. Like sheep without a shepherd. I'm sure they all have lives, though I'm not sure that any of them lead the type of existence that I would call enviable. Most probably, those who are not students that have drunk the neoliberal Kool Aid and still think the only way to make a difference is by making a buck, are those same students a few years later who are now stranded in mindless occupations that barely pay the rent or mortgage. Serves them right, methinks.
We are also hostages to an economic system that cannibalizes us. Business wants to remain competitive so you have to give them your spirit, body and soul, and that is still not a guarantee that you will have a job next month. If we don't feel already valued, then that is something we have to do for ourselves. a form of existential masturbation methinks. So what else are you going to do if no one invites you onto the dance floor?
I really wonder if that is what made self-esteem necessary? If we are hardly adequately valued by our own parents and families, then where else are we going to get validation? We have to do it yourselves. (Hmm...that would be an interesting brand name for a vibrator: Do It Yourself. The awesome new Do It Yourself Vibrator! Now available in your local sex shop. And don't forget to scream "I'm Awesome!!!!!") Except for our families, we are on our own. People really care crap about each other, no matter how many meaningful noises we try to make. And that is why the Temple of Self-Esteem has become our dominant secular religion. No one else is going to love you, so love yourself and, by the way, Gentle Reader, it is a myth that you have to love yourself before you can love others. When it is yourself that you love, you will love only yourself. Probably no one else, unless they serve your purpose. When you love others then you can love your sweet little precious as well, just as when people love you it also makes it possible for you to love others, including your dear little precious. If it was really true that self-esteem would generate loving, caring and empathic persons then why, Gentle Reader, is this obscenely wealthy country, this Canada of ours, languishing underneath a humanitarian crisis of homelessness, and we are still in denial that this is a humanitarian crisis?
We have twenty-four hours to figure it out before I post something new tomorrow.
The streets are full of mindless idiots. They appear mindless because they really don't have a clue. Like sheep without a shepherd. I'm sure they all have lives, though I'm not sure that any of them lead the type of existence that I would call enviable. Most probably, those who are not students that have drunk the neoliberal Kool Aid and still think the only way to make a difference is by making a buck, are those same students a few years later who are now stranded in mindless occupations that barely pay the rent or mortgage. Serves them right, methinks.
We are also hostages to an economic system that cannibalizes us. Business wants to remain competitive so you have to give them your spirit, body and soul, and that is still not a guarantee that you will have a job next month. If we don't feel already valued, then that is something we have to do for ourselves. a form of existential masturbation methinks. So what else are you going to do if no one invites you onto the dance floor?
I really wonder if that is what made self-esteem necessary? If we are hardly adequately valued by our own parents and families, then where else are we going to get validation? We have to do it yourselves. (Hmm...that would be an interesting brand name for a vibrator: Do It Yourself. The awesome new Do It Yourself Vibrator! Now available in your local sex shop. And don't forget to scream "I'm Awesome!!!!!") Except for our families, we are on our own. People really care crap about each other, no matter how many meaningful noises we try to make. And that is why the Temple of Self-Esteem has become our dominant secular religion. No one else is going to love you, so love yourself and, by the way, Gentle Reader, it is a myth that you have to love yourself before you can love others. When it is yourself that you love, you will love only yourself. Probably no one else, unless they serve your purpose. When you love others then you can love your sweet little precious as well, just as when people love you it also makes it possible for you to love others, including your dear little precious. If it was really true that self-esteem would generate loving, caring and empathic persons then why, Gentle Reader, is this obscenely wealthy country, this Canada of ours, languishing underneath a humanitarian crisis of homelessness, and we are still in denial that this is a humanitarian crisis?
We have twenty-four hours to figure it out before I post something new tomorrow.
Wednesday 29 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 94
Gentle Reader, I am going into exhausting and boring detail about how we value one another for one simple reason. We want to live in a better world. Right? Rapacious global capitalism hasn't delivered. Right? Apart from lifting a lot of people out of poverty in developing countries, I mean. But more people becoming richer (and for that matter, more of us also becoming poorer, at least in the so-called developed countries) has not made any of us any kinder, or more compassionate. It seems to have made a lot of us more selfish and nastier. And this lack of love certainly spreads into our way of treating one another and our attitudes towards our Mother Earth, who is languishing over our death march towards irreversible climate change.
Lately, I am hearing more the word kindness. The importance of kindness. This is not simply being nice. It is very possible, and often highly necessary that we be nice without being kind. Kindness has to come from the heart, or it is simply niceness, and nothing more. Ah, we are such hypocrites! We are also living under conditions of a humanitarian catastrophe, here in our own lovely growing and thriving cities in our own lovely and developed and rich Canada. That humanitarian catastrophe is called homelessness.
I don't think that very many of us really have much capacity for the kindness that it is going to take for real social change to occur. Even today, on the radio, I heard that a popular morning show host found his Twitter inbox full of racist anti-Chinese rants about the Corona virus. We like to believe that those are small, tiny minority. I would love to believe that those wastes of DNA are a small, tiny minority. But are they? We have no way of knowing.
My own response to this nonsense of panic and scare? I passed through Chinatown on Friday, the eve of Chinese New Year, bought two lovely botsi, or sesame balls at the Newtown bakery on E. Pender Street, and enjoyed them for a late lunch when I got home. Buying them from a Chinese lady (we exchanged new Year greetings) does nothing to put me at risk, and I hope that she doesn't catch anything from me either, except maybe good and friendly vibes. And I hope to return there this week, tomorrow maybe, for more sesame balls, and maybe a coconut bun too.
In the eighties, when AIDS was a death sentence, I intentionally went right into the gay community and offered pastoral care and support to people living with AIDS and HIV. A huge learning curve. I made and lost many wonderful friends, as they were all soon dead, usually within a couple of years. We shared food from the same plate. We embraced one another as brothers. They were more susceptible to anything they might catch from me because of their compromised immune systems. I didn't catch anything from anyone, by the way, and that was almost forty years ago.
Kindness does not come by the tap of the magic wand of the virtue Fairy. It is a skill that we have to willingly learn, work, at and develop. It also means carefully examining and scrutinizing ourselves and our own motives, as well as actually putting ourselves out there among others. Easy? No. Possible? Yes. Necessary? Highly necessary, because our future survival and the survival of the biosphere that sustains us, is going to largely depend on our being kind to one another. Not simply nice. Kind.
Lately, I am hearing more the word kindness. The importance of kindness. This is not simply being nice. It is very possible, and often highly necessary that we be nice without being kind. Kindness has to come from the heart, or it is simply niceness, and nothing more. Ah, we are such hypocrites! We are also living under conditions of a humanitarian catastrophe, here in our own lovely growing and thriving cities in our own lovely and developed and rich Canada. That humanitarian catastrophe is called homelessness.
I don't think that very many of us really have much capacity for the kindness that it is going to take for real social change to occur. Even today, on the radio, I heard that a popular morning show host found his Twitter inbox full of racist anti-Chinese rants about the Corona virus. We like to believe that those are small, tiny minority. I would love to believe that those wastes of DNA are a small, tiny minority. But are they? We have no way of knowing.
My own response to this nonsense of panic and scare? I passed through Chinatown on Friday, the eve of Chinese New Year, bought two lovely botsi, or sesame balls at the Newtown bakery on E. Pender Street, and enjoyed them for a late lunch when I got home. Buying them from a Chinese lady (we exchanged new Year greetings) does nothing to put me at risk, and I hope that she doesn't catch anything from me either, except maybe good and friendly vibes. And I hope to return there this week, tomorrow maybe, for more sesame balls, and maybe a coconut bun too.
In the eighties, when AIDS was a death sentence, I intentionally went right into the gay community and offered pastoral care and support to people living with AIDS and HIV. A huge learning curve. I made and lost many wonderful friends, as they were all soon dead, usually within a couple of years. We shared food from the same plate. We embraced one another as brothers. They were more susceptible to anything they might catch from me because of their compromised immune systems. I didn't catch anything from anyone, by the way, and that was almost forty years ago.
Kindness does not come by the tap of the magic wand of the virtue Fairy. It is a skill that we have to willingly learn, work, at and develop. It also means carefully examining and scrutinizing ourselves and our own motives, as well as actually putting ourselves out there among others. Easy? No. Possible? Yes. Necessary? Highly necessary, because our future survival and the survival of the biosphere that sustains us, is going to largely depend on our being kind to one another. Not simply nice. Kind.
Tuesday 28 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 93
The way we treat random strangers in the street often speaks volumes about our character. Twice, in three days, I have had to put up with idiots, both male, though they seem almost as often female or other gender, but there is a strong tendency in people to treat others as if they are either invisible or that they are obstacles in their way. There are of course going to be many reasons for this. People are stressed, they work hard and long hours at unforgiving and soul-destroying jobs that they hate in order to pay inflated rent that is still going to eat up at least half their income. Or they have been so poorly socialized that no one exists for them outside of their social media networks, immediate family, or friends (presuming that they have any). Or they are so focussed on their little electronic Precious (smartphone) that being in public and having to put up with random strangers for them is but an unpleasant tradeoff for living in their own little one-dimensional universe.
Not all people are like that, fortunately. I try not to be like that, though I also forget sometimes, and it is a challenge at times, when running to catch a bus or to make it on time to a professional appointment not to feel frustrated with other pedestrians, all of whom seem to be about as aware of their surroundings as a flock of grazing sheep or a herd of cows chewing their cud in the shade. I can get particularly bad if I am ducking into the huge and (in Vancouver) only remaining Indigo bookstore, very conveniently located on the corner of West Broadway and Granville, and only for the sole purpose of using their very convenient washroom. It is especially bad on weekends, and don't get me started about Christmas shopping season. Here I am with a full bladder trying to navigate my way through these herds of idiots wandering around like they have been recently lobotomized as they browse and read and have little chats and conversations among themselves or on their Precious (smartphones). Of course, Indigo is partly to blame for clogging the aisles with so much extra merchandise that it is all the more difficult squeezing around it. It is still kind of them to let me use their washroom and no one ever stops to ask me if I have at least bought a book first. They all feel like obstacles, and I have to redirect the blood flow from my aching bladder back to my brain, if only to consider, oh, these are human beings, and not things in my way. Please handle with care
Yes, I do get it. But we still have to work at it. We still have to try. And for those not interested in making the effort, fear not, darlings, I will do my level best to let you all know when you are being inconsiderate douchebags. I even used that moniker while calling out one young male douchebag who almost toppled me while running across my path, presumably to catch a bus that was already leaving the bay. When I asked him if he could please say excuse me, he ignored me, and when I called him again, wouldn't even look at me so I told him he was a coward and a douchebag, and it just might take a few more assertive people kicking his pathetic young ass before it really starts to sink in. Just yesterday there was a fellow in his forties who knocked against me without saying anything while trying to pass me on the sidewalk where I was walking with a client. I understand that the usual protocol is to say excuse me so the person in front of you can step out of your way. But a lot of people are simply too timid or too self-absorbed for even that little interaction with the dreaded stranger. Or they are busy doing thumb exercises on their Precious (smartphone).
This isn't easy, but part of our way forward is going to have to involve recognizing one another as having value, and living and behaving in a way that vindicates this belief. Even a small courtesy could be a step forward.
Not all people are like that, fortunately. I try not to be like that, though I also forget sometimes, and it is a challenge at times, when running to catch a bus or to make it on time to a professional appointment not to feel frustrated with other pedestrians, all of whom seem to be about as aware of their surroundings as a flock of grazing sheep or a herd of cows chewing their cud in the shade. I can get particularly bad if I am ducking into the huge and (in Vancouver) only remaining Indigo bookstore, very conveniently located on the corner of West Broadway and Granville, and only for the sole purpose of using their very convenient washroom. It is especially bad on weekends, and don't get me started about Christmas shopping season. Here I am with a full bladder trying to navigate my way through these herds of idiots wandering around like they have been recently lobotomized as they browse and read and have little chats and conversations among themselves or on their Precious (smartphones). Of course, Indigo is partly to blame for clogging the aisles with so much extra merchandise that it is all the more difficult squeezing around it. It is still kind of them to let me use their washroom and no one ever stops to ask me if I have at least bought a book first. They all feel like obstacles, and I have to redirect the blood flow from my aching bladder back to my brain, if only to consider, oh, these are human beings, and not things in my way. Please handle with care
Yes, I do get it. But we still have to work at it. We still have to try. And for those not interested in making the effort, fear not, darlings, I will do my level best to let you all know when you are being inconsiderate douchebags. I even used that moniker while calling out one young male douchebag who almost toppled me while running across my path, presumably to catch a bus that was already leaving the bay. When I asked him if he could please say excuse me, he ignored me, and when I called him again, wouldn't even look at me so I told him he was a coward and a douchebag, and it just might take a few more assertive people kicking his pathetic young ass before it really starts to sink in. Just yesterday there was a fellow in his forties who knocked against me without saying anything while trying to pass me on the sidewalk where I was walking with a client. I understand that the usual protocol is to say excuse me so the person in front of you can step out of your way. But a lot of people are simply too timid or too self-absorbed for even that little interaction with the dreaded stranger. Or they are busy doing thumb exercises on their Precious (smartphone).
This isn't easy, but part of our way forward is going to have to involve recognizing one another as having value, and living and behaving in a way that vindicates this belief. Even a small courtesy could be a step forward.
Monday 27 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 92
So then, what are we worth? As human beings, I mean? Well, what is the market worth of our bodies?. I mean the elemental chemicals that we're composed of. Well, if you were to remove all water from us, and water generally is, or ought to be, free, then you would just have a pile of dust made up of rather common chemical substances that could be cheaply bought anywhere by a chemist. Maybe around twenty bucks? Thirty?
For born again atheists and others that do not believe in the existence of God, Spirit nor in the human soul, this could be a dilemma, and often such imbeciles really have to wrap their inflated heads around all kinds of philosophical conundrums in order to prove that they do indeed value persons. My take? We cannot value others without somehow also valuing and honouring God, even if we steadfastly and obstinately deny his existence. So then, the atheist, the scientific materialist, really is perhaps covertly and grudgingly actually honouring the very God that made us, whenever they choose to respect and uphold our basic rights and dignity as human beings. It can't really be helped, but how also unfortunate that they are almost never willing to take that sort of thing one step further. But then that would blow their cover, they would lose the game, and still, instead of acknowledging that God is, would simply insert their oversize heads back into their skanky asses and go on refusing to acknowledge the obvious.
What are we worth? Especially given that we are more than the chemicals that constitute our bodies. Are we worth what they pay us for the work we do? Am I worth the $14.50 (CD) an hour I get paid for supporting my clients? Is Jeff Bezos worth the $115.5 billion (USD) that he raked in last year? He gets rewarded for being ambitious and greedy. Helping and supporting vulnerable people living with mental health stigma is considered to be of far less value. What is wrong with us?
By the way, I do not want Jeff Bezos income. I don't even need a billion dollars. Nobody needs one billion dollars. Just enough to live on. Without having to make sacrifices. But this also begs the question, are they really sacrifices? It is easy for me to go without cigarettes or alcohol, since as well as being expensive are both toxic, dangerous to the health and highly addictive. I do not miss those things. I have never owned a car, so really I don't know what it would be like to go without having a personal vehicle. I have always felt comfortable accessing transit and walking for long distances (great exercise and very calming kind of activity) I still get by nicely without having a smartphone and I don't even have a cell phone. A lot of people probably couldn't imagine life without such necessities, but for me they are luxuries and I really don't need or want these things.
Am I worth more than $14.50 an hour? Is Bezos worth more than one hundred billion? Are my clients worth only the meagre pittance they are expected to survive on as a government disability pension? What makes one more worthy than the other? Line us all up naked and no one is going to guess the difference.
Bezos, like many highly successful Americans of his generation are obviously graduates of the school of high self-esteem. I have always been skeptical about the self-esteem movement. And now we see its fat and bitter fruit, highly competitive narcissists that have basically made things even less liveable for others, while they gorge their craws.
We cannot put monetary values on persons. There is something indelibly precious about each one. This understanding badly needs to be revived, taught, disseminated and absorbed by all of us if we are going to move on in a way that isn't going to result in the complete and total destruction of the human species and of the biosphere that sustains us.
For born again atheists and others that do not believe in the existence of God, Spirit nor in the human soul, this could be a dilemma, and often such imbeciles really have to wrap their inflated heads around all kinds of philosophical conundrums in order to prove that they do indeed value persons. My take? We cannot value others without somehow also valuing and honouring God, even if we steadfastly and obstinately deny his existence. So then, the atheist, the scientific materialist, really is perhaps covertly and grudgingly actually honouring the very God that made us, whenever they choose to respect and uphold our basic rights and dignity as human beings. It can't really be helped, but how also unfortunate that they are almost never willing to take that sort of thing one step further. But then that would blow their cover, they would lose the game, and still, instead of acknowledging that God is, would simply insert their oversize heads back into their skanky asses and go on refusing to acknowledge the obvious.
What are we worth? Especially given that we are more than the chemicals that constitute our bodies. Are we worth what they pay us for the work we do? Am I worth the $14.50 (CD) an hour I get paid for supporting my clients? Is Jeff Bezos worth the $115.5 billion (USD) that he raked in last year? He gets rewarded for being ambitious and greedy. Helping and supporting vulnerable people living with mental health stigma is considered to be of far less value. What is wrong with us?
By the way, I do not want Jeff Bezos income. I don't even need a billion dollars. Nobody needs one billion dollars. Just enough to live on. Without having to make sacrifices. But this also begs the question, are they really sacrifices? It is easy for me to go without cigarettes or alcohol, since as well as being expensive are both toxic, dangerous to the health and highly addictive. I do not miss those things. I have never owned a car, so really I don't know what it would be like to go without having a personal vehicle. I have always felt comfortable accessing transit and walking for long distances (great exercise and very calming kind of activity) I still get by nicely without having a smartphone and I don't even have a cell phone. A lot of people probably couldn't imagine life without such necessities, but for me they are luxuries and I really don't need or want these things.
Am I worth more than $14.50 an hour? Is Bezos worth more than one hundred billion? Are my clients worth only the meagre pittance they are expected to survive on as a government disability pension? What makes one more worthy than the other? Line us all up naked and no one is going to guess the difference.
Bezos, like many highly successful Americans of his generation are obviously graduates of the school of high self-esteem. I have always been skeptical about the self-esteem movement. And now we see its fat and bitter fruit, highly competitive narcissists that have basically made things even less liveable for others, while they gorge their craws.
We cannot put monetary values on persons. There is something indelibly precious about each one. This understanding badly needs to be revived, taught, disseminated and absorbed by all of us if we are going to move on in a way that isn't going to result in the complete and total destruction of the human species and of the biosphere that sustains us.
Sunday 26 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 91
We're valued for our usefulness. Our productivity. Our utility. It is laced throughout the language we use in describing and assessing one another. Especially conservatives wax on boring ad nauseum about hard-working Canadians. And of course, they especially love hard-working Canadians who by all appearances have become affluent, or at least materially comfortable resulting from the sweat of their brow, or perhaps more from their craft and cunning. No one really mentions how being born into a family of prestige, or at least stability and relative wealth and social and professional connections can help ease one's ride to success.
Of course, no one ever mentions those of us who have worked hard all our lives and still remain stranded in low-paying and soul-destroying work, and coping with the chronic uncertainty of housing instability, or have actually become homeless. Somehow, we get branded as lazy, as parasites on the system, no matter how hard we keep working to survive and at least maintain some sense of dignity. Of course, if we're aboriginal or black, we are given a pass, and everything about our misfortune can be blamed on racialization and colonization.
If you are white and poor, you are considered lazy. Not even the egghead academics at CBC, all who come from families of privilege, and haven't the remotest clue of how a lot of us live, are going to dare acknowledge that maybe a lot of us are poor because there are still some major flaws in our system, that maybe Canada isn't really the cold northern paradise that we purport ourselves to be.
But they never talk about us. We do not serve their propaganda purposes, and CBC, being the government (taxpayer) funded broadcasting corporation, is still above everything else, a Canadian propaganda machine. They cling, like Gollum to his Precious, to the national myths of Canada, and if we do not fit the myth, if our lives have somehow been harmed or damaged by aspects of the myth, then too bad for us. They are never going to mention us on their airwaves. We do not exist, except perhaps as the other: homeless, mentally ill, addicted, but that is such hypocritical phrasing.
I have been homeless, and now I live in social housing. I have never had any addictions. And I have managed to overturn a bogus PTSD diagnosis and actually get on with my life. Am I rich yet, which is of course the way most Canadians tend to mark success? No. Do I want to be rich? Why, when I already have everything that I already need? But even this kind of thinking, which is anti-consumer, and not in the least bit acquisitive or covetous, is so thoroughly un-Canadian, and for even questioning it I am going to be held in suspicion.
Well, for your information, my Ducks, I have worked bloody hard all my life. It is not my fault that there are so many cracks in the system I could fall through, that I was never able to get a university degree, nor persuade any employer to pay me at least a living wage. I did everything I could, everything I was supposed to and this is what I get. Nothing. There are a lot of people like me. And also like me, we have dedicated, and still dedicate our lives and energy to helping and advocating for others, in my case, the homeless, the mentally ill, the addicted. But we don't get paid very generously for our labours. Sometimes we don't get paid at all, and when we are old, we have only scant government pensions to live on, and if someone is not as fortunate as me to live in BC Housing, then too bad.
So, where is our reward?
How are we being valued?
Where is the love? I'm certainly not feeling it, and those of us who take the trouble to love and care for others seldom are compensated in a way that dignifies and honours how we have dedicated our lives to compensate for the toxic human fallout of the selfishness of the rest of you!
Of course, no one ever mentions those of us who have worked hard all our lives and still remain stranded in low-paying and soul-destroying work, and coping with the chronic uncertainty of housing instability, or have actually become homeless. Somehow, we get branded as lazy, as parasites on the system, no matter how hard we keep working to survive and at least maintain some sense of dignity. Of course, if we're aboriginal or black, we are given a pass, and everything about our misfortune can be blamed on racialization and colonization.
If you are white and poor, you are considered lazy. Not even the egghead academics at CBC, all who come from families of privilege, and haven't the remotest clue of how a lot of us live, are going to dare acknowledge that maybe a lot of us are poor because there are still some major flaws in our system, that maybe Canada isn't really the cold northern paradise that we purport ourselves to be.
But they never talk about us. We do not serve their propaganda purposes, and CBC, being the government (taxpayer) funded broadcasting corporation, is still above everything else, a Canadian propaganda machine. They cling, like Gollum to his Precious, to the national myths of Canada, and if we do not fit the myth, if our lives have somehow been harmed or damaged by aspects of the myth, then too bad for us. They are never going to mention us on their airwaves. We do not exist, except perhaps as the other: homeless, mentally ill, addicted, but that is such hypocritical phrasing.
I have been homeless, and now I live in social housing. I have never had any addictions. And I have managed to overturn a bogus PTSD diagnosis and actually get on with my life. Am I rich yet, which is of course the way most Canadians tend to mark success? No. Do I want to be rich? Why, when I already have everything that I already need? But even this kind of thinking, which is anti-consumer, and not in the least bit acquisitive or covetous, is so thoroughly un-Canadian, and for even questioning it I am going to be held in suspicion.
Well, for your information, my Ducks, I have worked bloody hard all my life. It is not my fault that there are so many cracks in the system I could fall through, that I was never able to get a university degree, nor persuade any employer to pay me at least a living wage. I did everything I could, everything I was supposed to and this is what I get. Nothing. There are a lot of people like me. And also like me, we have dedicated, and still dedicate our lives and energy to helping and advocating for others, in my case, the homeless, the mentally ill, the addicted. But we don't get paid very generously for our labours. Sometimes we don't get paid at all, and when we are old, we have only scant government pensions to live on, and if someone is not as fortunate as me to live in BC Housing, then too bad.
So, where is our reward?
How are we being valued?
Where is the love? I'm certainly not feeling it, and those of us who take the trouble to love and care for others seldom are compensated in a way that dignifies and honours how we have dedicated our lives to compensate for the toxic human fallout of the selfishness of the rest of you!
Saturday 25 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 90
In terms of the way we value persons, we have come a long way. Despite the strident protestations of any born-again atheists who might be reading this page (and if you are, why?), we largely have the teachings of Jesus Christ in the Gospels to thank for the advancements we have made, especially in the Sermon on the Mount. I cannot think of any other ancient document that so clearly and so eloquently asserts the value of persons and for the simple reason that we are made by God.
We are made by love for the purpose of love and to be beings and creatures of love. We of course are to blame for what we have done to ourselves, making us very flawed and very imperfect and tarnished souls. If you don't believe me, then just have a look at some of the horrors that humans have unleashed on one another throughout our history. Genocides, anyone? The Rohingya in Myanmar, the Tutsis in Rwanda, our own indigenous peoples, the Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and persons with disabilities in Nazi Europe, Stalin's purges, the mass butcherings of Chinese people under Mao and the attempted cultural genocide against the Uyghur people, and I could go on and on with this sad and depressing theme.
But we have come a long way. Human rights are now enshrined and internationally recognized. And we still have a long way to go, because the various nations that are signatories of said UN documents have been very selective in their interpretations. For example, Canada, the global boy scouts, where housing still is not recognized as a human right, and the medical profession does not consider teeth to be part of the human body so that dental care is not covered in our public health cre, and where wealthy immigrants are always welcomed instead of refugees who historically have always contributed way more to the growth and wellbeing of the nation.
We still have a long way to go, and for one simple reason. It is our failure to love. We are very selective, still, about whom we value. Because we are so hobbled by selfish fear and greed! Whether they are people from our own country, or "hard-working Canadians", or people of your preferred race, ethnicity or religion (no, I don't give preference to Christians, should you care to ask, Gentle Reader!). Or how about the preference given to people with money and middle class credentials and other baggage of privilege?
This is important because we are now living in the shadow of global unrestrained and rapacious capitalism. We are seeing the fallout here in our own dear little Canada. Those who do not adapt to, and thrive under capitalism become collateral damage to the kind of greed and ruthless competition that is trampling underfoot many of our most cherished human rights while completely flipping the bird to our value and dignity as persons. If that were not so, then why do we have this crisis of homelessness, here in Canada, a wealthy developed country, and right here in Vancouver, one of the most coveted cities on earth?
Where is our love? We have become hostages to greed, fear and selfishness. We have to reject this. If we really want to ratify the beautiful teachings of Jesus and also what is found in the very best of other religious faiths, then we have to embrace repentance. It is our failure to value others that has dug us into this steadily deepening grave. It is our refusal and resistance to love unconditionally that blinds us to the value we all share as persons, and which also creates this arrogant indifference towards other species and the environment that is still problematic in many parts of the world, and here in Canada (Alberta and Saskatchewan, anybody?).
I really wonder just what is it going to get to pull our heads out of our collective ass! Any ideas?
We are made by love for the purpose of love and to be beings and creatures of love. We of course are to blame for what we have done to ourselves, making us very flawed and very imperfect and tarnished souls. If you don't believe me, then just have a look at some of the horrors that humans have unleashed on one another throughout our history. Genocides, anyone? The Rohingya in Myanmar, the Tutsis in Rwanda, our own indigenous peoples, the Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and persons with disabilities in Nazi Europe, Stalin's purges, the mass butcherings of Chinese people under Mao and the attempted cultural genocide against the Uyghur people, and I could go on and on with this sad and depressing theme.
But we have come a long way. Human rights are now enshrined and internationally recognized. And we still have a long way to go, because the various nations that are signatories of said UN documents have been very selective in their interpretations. For example, Canada, the global boy scouts, where housing still is not recognized as a human right, and the medical profession does not consider teeth to be part of the human body so that dental care is not covered in our public health cre, and where wealthy immigrants are always welcomed instead of refugees who historically have always contributed way more to the growth and wellbeing of the nation.
We still have a long way to go, and for one simple reason. It is our failure to love. We are very selective, still, about whom we value. Because we are so hobbled by selfish fear and greed! Whether they are people from our own country, or "hard-working Canadians", or people of your preferred race, ethnicity or religion (no, I don't give preference to Christians, should you care to ask, Gentle Reader!). Or how about the preference given to people with money and middle class credentials and other baggage of privilege?
This is important because we are now living in the shadow of global unrestrained and rapacious capitalism. We are seeing the fallout here in our own dear little Canada. Those who do not adapt to, and thrive under capitalism become collateral damage to the kind of greed and ruthless competition that is trampling underfoot many of our most cherished human rights while completely flipping the bird to our value and dignity as persons. If that were not so, then why do we have this crisis of homelessness, here in Canada, a wealthy developed country, and right here in Vancouver, one of the most coveted cities on earth?
Where is our love? We have become hostages to greed, fear and selfishness. We have to reject this. If we really want to ratify the beautiful teachings of Jesus and also what is found in the very best of other religious faiths, then we have to embrace repentance. It is our failure to value others that has dug us into this steadily deepening grave. It is our refusal and resistance to love unconditionally that blinds us to the value we all share as persons, and which also creates this arrogant indifference towards other species and the environment that is still problematic in many parts of the world, and here in Canada (Alberta and Saskatchewan, anybody?).
I really wonder just what is it going to get to pull our heads out of our collective ass! Any ideas?
Friday 24 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 89
I promise to write this blogpost entirely in English, Gentle Reader, as I want to give us a break to digest some of what I have already written and commented on about what I have mentioned so far on these pages in both Spanish and English concerning Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, which I think with some justification could be called the most important, most significant and most historically pivotal discourse ever spoken in the history of our species.
Having so far reflected and commented on the Beatitudes, on our mission as salt and light to the world, on Jesus as the fulfilment of the law, and concerning how we should handle disputes, disagreements and anger, desire, divorce, honesty of speech, and vengeance, I think we can safely conclude that there is one continuing and overriding theme here, and that is our value, each and every one of us, before God, as persons, as beings of value and worth, and of the importance that we each hold one another in the highest esteem as persons of value. And that this sense of worth and value transcends everything, not mattering who we are, where we come from, our race, age, social class, income, poor and rich, every single one of us is a person of value who is also loved.
It is only a shame that it is still taking us so long to accept, receive and inwardly digest those words. We have come a long way in our understanding of human rights and dignity, but we still have a long way to go, when it comes to actually believing it and practicing it. There are still a lot of obstacles. Our systems of government are still hierarchical and our society is still stratified by class and privilege, not to mention this economic system of voracious capitalism that completely tramples underfoot all human dignity.
A lot of Canadians still seem to view basic human rights, such as housing, as privileges. Those will be the same people who crow the loudest that Canada is the best country on earth. Those same people are also likely to be unilingual with little interest or capacity for learning a second language.
I had an interesting conversation over coffee with a friend. We noted that almost all the great revolutions, at least for a while, resulted in regimes and situations equally or more horrible than the governments and dynasties that were overthrown. It is a challenge trying to get people to think a bit differently about human dignity when they are already so comfortable and comatose. There is the possibility that our current housing and affordability crisis will be enough to wake a few more people out of their slumber, but change seems to come very slow in Canada, and we have significant populations that are trapped in very backward thinking.
All I can do is continue trying to live and act in a way that fosters and expresses my values and continue writing this blog. If my one power is the power of not shutting up, then I am not going to shut up, Gentle Reader, at least till I have breathed my last, and even then I will find ways even beyond the grave of making my voice heard.
Having so far reflected and commented on the Beatitudes, on our mission as salt and light to the world, on Jesus as the fulfilment of the law, and concerning how we should handle disputes, disagreements and anger, desire, divorce, honesty of speech, and vengeance, I think we can safely conclude that there is one continuing and overriding theme here, and that is our value, each and every one of us, before God, as persons, as beings of value and worth, and of the importance that we each hold one another in the highest esteem as persons of value. And that this sense of worth and value transcends everything, not mattering who we are, where we come from, our race, age, social class, income, poor and rich, every single one of us is a person of value who is also loved.
It is only a shame that it is still taking us so long to accept, receive and inwardly digest those words. We have come a long way in our understanding of human rights and dignity, but we still have a long way to go, when it comes to actually believing it and practicing it. There are still a lot of obstacles. Our systems of government are still hierarchical and our society is still stratified by class and privilege, not to mention this economic system of voracious capitalism that completely tramples underfoot all human dignity.
A lot of Canadians still seem to view basic human rights, such as housing, as privileges. Those will be the same people who crow the loudest that Canada is the best country on earth. Those same people are also likely to be unilingual with little interest or capacity for learning a second language.
I had an interesting conversation over coffee with a friend. We noted that almost all the great revolutions, at least for a while, resulted in regimes and situations equally or more horrible than the governments and dynasties that were overthrown. It is a challenge trying to get people to think a bit differently about human dignity when they are already so comfortable and comatose. There is the possibility that our current housing and affordability crisis will be enough to wake a few more people out of their slumber, but change seems to come very slow in Canada, and we have significant populations that are trapped in very backward thinking.
All I can do is continue trying to live and act in a way that fosters and expresses my values and continue writing this blog. If my one power is the power of not shutting up, then I am not going to shut up, Gentle Reader, at least till I have breathed my last, and even then I will find ways even beyond the grave of making my voice heard.
Thursday 23 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 88
More from the Sermon on the Mount in Spanish. This is about divorce. Stand by your lawyer:
"Se ha dicho: El que repudia a su esposa debe darle un certificado de divorcio. Pero yo les digo que excepto en casos de infidelidad conyugal, todo el que se divorcia de su esposa la induce a cometer adulterio. Y el que se casa con la divorciada comete adulterio, también."
In English:
It has been said: He who wants to get rid of his wife should give her a document of divorce. But I am telling you that except for cases of conjugal unfaithfulness, everyone who divorces their wife makes her commit adultery. And he who marries a divorced woman also commits adultery.
For many Christians who have divorced and remarried, this can be a tricky passage, and the words are simply neither comfortable nor comforting. I am aware that until fairly recently the Anglican Church didn't sanction the remarriage of divorced persons. Now it is quite common including among our incredible progressive and non-celibate clergy, and no one seems to mind. The Catholic Church, as in many other things, still remains in the nineteenth century about these matters, but what else is new?
Marriage, divorce and remarriage are subjects that I really do not feel qualified to weigh in on, for the simple reason that, though I have cohabited (who would have even guessed?), I have never been married, divorced or remarried. Likewise the argument about abortion, choice and life. I am not a woman. It doesn't personally touch me (though, since you're just salivating to know, I will tell you this much: I am pro-choice)
I think what we do need to look at in Jesus' words and teachings is the way he brings the matter from how it affects you personally, to make us consider how our choices are going to affect others. He does not mention women, and sometimes men, who have to leave an abusive marriage to save their mental health and sometimes their lives. But he is particularly concerned here with the welfare and wellbeing of the woman who has just been repudiated and rejected and divorced by her husband, that it isn't simply a matter of what's in it for me, but what's in it for everyone, especially the most vulnerable, and in Jesus' day, if anyone was marginalized and vulnerable it was the women in his community, and he really did know this.
In terms of divorce and remarriage, I think there is a legitimate and honored place for those who, after leaving a bad marriage, or being rejected by their partner, opt to live their lives fully consecrated to the Lord, which also includes going completely celibate, as part of consecrating their lives. Yes, married people can also lead consecrated lives, but with spouse and often with children in the bargain it can get very tricky balancing everything. There is room for both expressions, and probably for others, as well.
All for now, Ducks!
"Se ha dicho: El que repudia a su esposa debe darle un certificado de divorcio. Pero yo les digo que excepto en casos de infidelidad conyugal, todo el que se divorcia de su esposa la induce a cometer adulterio. Y el que se casa con la divorciada comete adulterio, también."
In English:
It has been said: He who wants to get rid of his wife should give her a document of divorce. But I am telling you that except for cases of conjugal unfaithfulness, everyone who divorces their wife makes her commit adultery. And he who marries a divorced woman also commits adultery.
For many Christians who have divorced and remarried, this can be a tricky passage, and the words are simply neither comfortable nor comforting. I am aware that until fairly recently the Anglican Church didn't sanction the remarriage of divorced persons. Now it is quite common including among our incredible progressive and non-celibate clergy, and no one seems to mind. The Catholic Church, as in many other things, still remains in the nineteenth century about these matters, but what else is new?
Marriage, divorce and remarriage are subjects that I really do not feel qualified to weigh in on, for the simple reason that, though I have cohabited (who would have even guessed?), I have never been married, divorced or remarried. Likewise the argument about abortion, choice and life. I am not a woman. It doesn't personally touch me (though, since you're just salivating to know, I will tell you this much: I am pro-choice)
I think what we do need to look at in Jesus' words and teachings is the way he brings the matter from how it affects you personally, to make us consider how our choices are going to affect others. He does not mention women, and sometimes men, who have to leave an abusive marriage to save their mental health and sometimes their lives. But he is particularly concerned here with the welfare and wellbeing of the woman who has just been repudiated and rejected and divorced by her husband, that it isn't simply a matter of what's in it for me, but what's in it for everyone, especially the most vulnerable, and in Jesus' day, if anyone was marginalized and vulnerable it was the women in his community, and he really did know this.
In terms of divorce and remarriage, I think there is a legitimate and honored place for those who, after leaving a bad marriage, or being rejected by their partner, opt to live their lives fully consecrated to the Lord, which also includes going completely celibate, as part of consecrating their lives. Yes, married people can also lead consecrated lives, but with spouse and often with children in the bargain it can get very tricky balancing everything. There is room for both expressions, and probably for others, as well.
All for now, Ducks!
Wednesday 22 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 87
"Ustedes han oÃdo que se dijo, No cometes adulterio, pero yo les digo que cualquiera mira a una mujer y la codicia ya ha cometido el adulterio con ella en el corazón. Por tanto, si tu ojo derecho te hace pecar, sácatelo y tÃralo. Mas te vale perder una sola parte de tu cuerpo y no que todo el sea arrojado al infierno. Y si tu mano derecha te hace pecar, córtatela y arrójala. Mas te vale perder una sola parte de tu cuerpo y no que todo vaya al infierno."
Well, I just checked one of my Spanish Bibles, and I wrote this passage perfectly. One moment please, Gentle Reader, while I pat my back. Now, here it is in English:
You have heard it said in the past, do not commit adultery, but I am telling you that whoever looks at a woman and desires her has already committed adultery with her in his heart. So, if your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out, and throw it away. Better that you lose only one small part of your body and that not the whole thing be thrown into hell. and if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. Better that you lose only one small part of your body and that not the whole thing go to hell.
So, there you have it. Don't leer. Don't objectify. But I don't think Jesus was just talking about men with women. I have herd women get pretty skanky about men, and have been called a slut-shaming pig for calling them on their double standard. Too bad. I am standing my ground. I have also told off men for treating other men like items on the menu. I have been slammed by them as anti-gay and homophobic. Too bad. I am standing my ground.
When you sexually objectify another person, you are othering them, and completely erasing their human dignity just to satisfy your own stinking lust. Be ashamed. Be very ashamed.
Well, I just checked one of my Spanish Bibles, and I wrote this passage perfectly. One moment please, Gentle Reader, while I pat my back. Now, here it is in English:
You have heard it said in the past, do not commit adultery, but I am telling you that whoever looks at a woman and desires her has already committed adultery with her in his heart. So, if your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out, and throw it away. Better that you lose only one small part of your body and that not the whole thing be thrown into hell. and if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. Better that you lose only one small part of your body and that not the whole thing go to hell.
So, there you have it. Don't leer. Don't objectify. But I don't think Jesus was just talking about men with women. I have herd women get pretty skanky about men, and have been called a slut-shaming pig for calling them on their double standard. Too bad. I am standing my ground. I have also told off men for treating other men like items on the menu. I have been slammed by them as anti-gay and homophobic. Too bad. I am standing my ground.
When you sexually objectify another person, you are othering them, and completely erasing their human dignity just to satisfy your own stinking lust. Be ashamed. Be very ashamed.
Tuesday 21 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 86
Yes, Gentle Reader, more Christian content. If this is problematic to you perhaps you could search in my blog for some of my more offensive content. I'm sure you won't be disappointment. Otherwise, brace yourselves, this is going to be a bumpy flight. Fasten your seatbelts everybody, and yes, we are flying economy!
More from the Sermon on the Mount that I have so far memorized, in Spanish, then the English translation with commentary:
"Ustedes han oÃdo que se dijo a sus antepasados, no mates, y todo el que mate quedará sujeto al juicio del tribunal. Pero yo les dijo que todo el que se enoje con su hermano quedará sujetado al juicio del tribunal. Es mas, cualquiera que insulte a su hermano quedará sujeto al juicio del consejo, pero cualquiera que lo maldiga quedará sujeto al juicio del infierno. Por lo tanto, si estás presentando tu ofrenda en el altar, y allà recuerdas que tu hermano tiene algo contra ti, deja tu ofrenda allà delante del altar. Ve primero y reconcÃliate con tu hermano, luego, vuelves y presente tu ofrenda. Si tu adversario te va a denunciar, llega a un acuerdo con el lo mas pronto posible. Hazlo mientras vayan de camino al juzgado. No sea que te entregue al juez, y el juez al guardia, y te echen en la cárcel. Te aseguro que no saldrás de allà hasta que pagues el último centavo."
You have all heard that it was told to your ancestors, do not murder, and everyone who murders shall be tried by the tribunal of justice. But I am telling you that everyone who gets angry with his brother shall be tried by the tribunal of justice. Also, whoever insults his brother is going to be tried by the council, but anyone who curses him will have to face the justice of hell. Therefor, if you are presenting your offering on the altar, and there recall that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there in front of the altar. First, go and be reconciled with your brother, then, go back and present your offering. If your adversary is going to denounce you, come to an agreement with him as quickly as possible, while you are on your way to trial. Otherwise he will hand you over to the judge, who will hand you over to the jailer, and they will through you in prison. I assure you that you will not get out of their until you pay the last cent.
I think for anyone who enjoys entertaining grudges as though they were edgy little badass guests for tea, these are going to be very difficult words. This teaching brings us right to the very heart of our relationships, not just with our families and friends, but with everyone in the community, and even with complete strangers. Jesus equates resentment, grudges, anger and judgement with murder. perhaps because that is really what we re committing, to ourselves if not to one another. If ever there was a teaching of the Gospel that we never seem to get right, then here it is. So then, why even try? because this, my darlings, is how we learn humility. We can't accomplish or be any of those nifty things without the help of the Holy Spirit, and there's nothing like constantly failing at it to leave us flung at the feet of Jesus, which is exactly where we all belong. All for now!
More from the Sermon on the Mount that I have so far memorized, in Spanish, then the English translation with commentary:
"Ustedes han oÃdo que se dijo a sus antepasados, no mates, y todo el que mate quedará sujeto al juicio del tribunal. Pero yo les dijo que todo el que se enoje con su hermano quedará sujetado al juicio del tribunal. Es mas, cualquiera que insulte a su hermano quedará sujeto al juicio del consejo, pero cualquiera que lo maldiga quedará sujeto al juicio del infierno. Por lo tanto, si estás presentando tu ofrenda en el altar, y allà recuerdas que tu hermano tiene algo contra ti, deja tu ofrenda allà delante del altar. Ve primero y reconcÃliate con tu hermano, luego, vuelves y presente tu ofrenda. Si tu adversario te va a denunciar, llega a un acuerdo con el lo mas pronto posible. Hazlo mientras vayan de camino al juzgado. No sea que te entregue al juez, y el juez al guardia, y te echen en la cárcel. Te aseguro que no saldrás de allà hasta que pagues el último centavo."
You have all heard that it was told to your ancestors, do not murder, and everyone who murders shall be tried by the tribunal of justice. But I am telling you that everyone who gets angry with his brother shall be tried by the tribunal of justice. Also, whoever insults his brother is going to be tried by the council, but anyone who curses him will have to face the justice of hell. Therefor, if you are presenting your offering on the altar, and there recall that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there in front of the altar. First, go and be reconciled with your brother, then, go back and present your offering. If your adversary is going to denounce you, come to an agreement with him as quickly as possible, while you are on your way to trial. Otherwise he will hand you over to the judge, who will hand you over to the jailer, and they will through you in prison. I assure you that you will not get out of their until you pay the last cent.
I think for anyone who enjoys entertaining grudges as though they were edgy little badass guests for tea, these are going to be very difficult words. This teaching brings us right to the very heart of our relationships, not just with our families and friends, but with everyone in the community, and even with complete strangers. Jesus equates resentment, grudges, anger and judgement with murder. perhaps because that is really what we re committing, to ourselves if not to one another. If ever there was a teaching of the Gospel that we never seem to get right, then here it is. So then, why even try? because this, my darlings, is how we learn humility. We can't accomplish or be any of those nifty things without the help of the Holy Spirit, and there's nothing like constantly failing at it to leave us flung at the feet of Jesus, which is exactly where we all belong. All for now!
Monday 20 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 85
More from the Sermon on the Mount, in Spanish, then in English:
"No piensen que he venido a anular la ley o los profetas. No he venido a anularlos, sino a darles cumplimiento. Les aseguro que mientras existan el cielo y la tierra, ni una letra, ni una tilde de la ley desvanecerán hasta que todo se haya cumplido. Todo el que infrinja una solo de estos mandamientos, por pequeño que sea, y enseñe a otros a hacer lo mismo, será considerado lo mas pequeño en el reino de los cielos. Pero el que los practique y enseñe será considerado grande en el reino de los cielos. Porque los digo a ustedes, que no van a entrar en el reino de los cielos a menos que su justicia supere a la de los fariseos y los maestros de la ley."
Certain points of grammar I have not remembered correctly and have to refer to the printed text for corrections, but it's all good and I still have it basically correct in my memory. Here it is in English translation:
Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have not come to abolish them, but to fulfil them. I assure you that while heaven and earth still exist, not one single letter or tilde of the law will disappear until all has been fulfilled. Everyone who violates even one of these commandments, no matter how small, and teaches others to do the same, will be considered the smallest in the kingdom of heaven. But they who practice and teach them will be considered great in the kingdom of heaven. Because I am telling you that you will not be entering the kingdom of heaven unless your justice is of a better quality than that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law.
I know this fundamentalist evangelical who is part of a church that is almost cultish, and he once insisted that by those words, Jesus means that we still have to fulfill all the laws of the Old Testament, including the stoning of women caught in adultery and of men caught in acts of, shall we say, unnatural love? The church he is a member of seems to represent just the same kind of Christian heresy that Margaret Atwood so eloquently warned about in her prophetic novels, the Handmaid's Tale, and the Testament. Fortunately, that church is not about to take over any government in the US nor here in Canada, or well, let's not ruin our day, shall we?
We have to really read the entire Gospels, as well as the whole Sermon on the Mount in order to get an idea of what Jesus is really talking about. Suffice it to say that love is the fulfilling of the law, and if we love God and one another, then that's all we need really. And no one gets rocks thrown at them, either.
In other words, Jesus is the fulfilment of the law, and in Jesus we find the fullness of God which is the completeness of all that is love, all that is true and all that is lovely. And Jesus speaks these truths with authority, with badass authority. "Do not think", "I assure you", "Because I am telling you". You can't get any more badass cool than Jesus.
"No piensen que he venido a anular la ley o los profetas. No he venido a anularlos, sino a darles cumplimiento. Les aseguro que mientras existan el cielo y la tierra, ni una letra, ni una tilde de la ley desvanecerán hasta que todo se haya cumplido. Todo el que infrinja una solo de estos mandamientos, por pequeño que sea, y enseñe a otros a hacer lo mismo, será considerado lo mas pequeño en el reino de los cielos. Pero el que los practique y enseñe será considerado grande en el reino de los cielos. Porque los digo a ustedes, que no van a entrar en el reino de los cielos a menos que su justicia supere a la de los fariseos y los maestros de la ley."
Certain points of grammar I have not remembered correctly and have to refer to the printed text for corrections, but it's all good and I still have it basically correct in my memory. Here it is in English translation:
Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have not come to abolish them, but to fulfil them. I assure you that while heaven and earth still exist, not one single letter or tilde of the law will disappear until all has been fulfilled. Everyone who violates even one of these commandments, no matter how small, and teaches others to do the same, will be considered the smallest in the kingdom of heaven. But they who practice and teach them will be considered great in the kingdom of heaven. Because I am telling you that you will not be entering the kingdom of heaven unless your justice is of a better quality than that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law.
I know this fundamentalist evangelical who is part of a church that is almost cultish, and he once insisted that by those words, Jesus means that we still have to fulfill all the laws of the Old Testament, including the stoning of women caught in adultery and of men caught in acts of, shall we say, unnatural love? The church he is a member of seems to represent just the same kind of Christian heresy that Margaret Atwood so eloquently warned about in her prophetic novels, the Handmaid's Tale, and the Testament. Fortunately, that church is not about to take over any government in the US nor here in Canada, or well, let's not ruin our day, shall we?
We have to really read the entire Gospels, as well as the whole Sermon on the Mount in order to get an idea of what Jesus is really talking about. Suffice it to say that love is the fulfilling of the law, and if we love God and one another, then that's all we need really. And no one gets rocks thrown at them, either.
In other words, Jesus is the fulfilment of the law, and in Jesus we find the fullness of God which is the completeness of all that is love, all that is true and all that is lovely. And Jesus speaks these truths with authority, with badass authority. "Do not think", "I assure you", "Because I am telling you". You can't get any more badass cool than Jesus.
Sunday 19 January 2020
It's All performance Art 84
Here is more from my efforts at memorizing Jesus Sermon on the Mount, Gentle Reader:
"Ustedes son la sal de la tierra. Pero si la sal se vuelva insÃpida, ¿cómo recobrará su sabor? Ya no sirve para nada, sino para que la gente la deseche y pisotee. Ustedes son la luz del mundo. Una ciudad en lo alto de una colina no puede esconderse, ni se enciende una lámpara para cubrirla con un cajón. Por el contrario, se pone en la repisa para que alumbre a todos que están en la casa. Hagan brillar su luz delante de todos, para que ellos puedan ver las obras buenas de ustedes, y alaben al Padre que está en el cielo."
In English:
You are the salt of the earth But if the salt becomes insipid, how is it going to regain its flavour? It is now good for nothing, except for the people to reject it and trample it underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill cannot conceal itself, nor is a lamp lit in order to be covered with a box. Rather, it is placed high in a sconce where it can give light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before everyone, that they can see your good works, and give praise to the Father who is in heaven.
Yes, this warning not to lose our zing. Salt is essential to our lives and wellbeing, but in excess, look out! For Christians this is a call to keep our edge and basically to stay interesting and engaging to the community, but to not overdo it. Too much salt is bad for the blood pressure.
As light to the world, we cannot remain hidden. Our very lives and our words must proclaim the reality of Christ, but it isn't so much in our words as in our acts and our deeds. When people see the work of God in our lives, they will know that something extraordinary is occurring. They may not believe, they might never believe, but still if we are faithful, they will see and they will, each in their way glorify the one we are called to serve.
This is a tricky balance. From time to time I enjoy binge-watching sixties and seventies TV shows on YouTube. Right now it's the Time Tunnel, rather a cheesy science fiction program from 1966 and 67 about two young American scientists (males, natch, this was the sixties after all!). This, like so many TV shows of its vintage, takes itself just too seriously, no humour or irony, and so it really becomes its own shameless display of unintentional camp. So, it's kind of hilarious, if not intentionally so.
Last night I saw the episode about the walls of Jericho as they came a-tumblin' down. The two scientists land in Joshua's camp and they are dispatched as the two spies that infiltrate the city of Jericho and were taken in by Rahab the harlot. In the show they really make hay out of Rahab, as much as they were allowed within the strict confines of censorship from that era, and of course the two all-American scientists are also very pious and God-fearing and bible believing.
Now, I have no opinion one way or the other as to the veracity of the account from the Book of Joshua about the city of Jericho. It is said that the armies of Israel walked around the city seven times, then the walls came a-tumblin' down and they all went in and slaughtered everyone there except the harlot Rahab and her family. Hmm...war crimes anyone? Well, I wasn't there, so don't ask me what happened, or how it really happened. But posted in the comment section I read all these barmy pronouncements from barmy fundamentalists about how literally true the Bible is and one fellow even mapped out in meticulous detail exactly when the world is going to end in thirty years and Jesus returns.
I did comment in a couple of places. I asked the future-forecasting fundamentalist if he has been forgetting to take his prn's, darling? (the letters stand for the Latin pro re nata, or take as needed, and is a reference to the psychiatric medication that can be taken as needed in order to stave off symptoms of psychosis, etc. I know, I'm mean, what else is new?) Someone weighed in that it's all fairy tales, and I replied that even so, there might be nuances in those accounts that we shouldn't pass over (no pun intended). To another fundamentalist, I simply replied how sad it is that Christians are so eager to make complete asses of themselves on public forums.
Which is exactly my point, and what I would like to focus on about being salt and light to the world. Quite simply, we really need to shut up more, and live in a way that makes Christ real in our lives. The more we open our mouths to proclaim the Gospel, often the more we bring the very beauty of those words into complete disgrace, especially when our lives in no way measure up to the teachings of the One we presume to follow.
"Ustedes son la sal de la tierra. Pero si la sal se vuelva insÃpida, ¿cómo recobrará su sabor? Ya no sirve para nada, sino para que la gente la deseche y pisotee. Ustedes son la luz del mundo. Una ciudad en lo alto de una colina no puede esconderse, ni se enciende una lámpara para cubrirla con un cajón. Por el contrario, se pone en la repisa para que alumbre a todos que están en la casa. Hagan brillar su luz delante de todos, para que ellos puedan ver las obras buenas de ustedes, y alaben al Padre que está en el cielo."
In English:
You are the salt of the earth But if the salt becomes insipid, how is it going to regain its flavour? It is now good for nothing, except for the people to reject it and trample it underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill cannot conceal itself, nor is a lamp lit in order to be covered with a box. Rather, it is placed high in a sconce where it can give light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before everyone, that they can see your good works, and give praise to the Father who is in heaven.
Yes, this warning not to lose our zing. Salt is essential to our lives and wellbeing, but in excess, look out! For Christians this is a call to keep our edge and basically to stay interesting and engaging to the community, but to not overdo it. Too much salt is bad for the blood pressure.
As light to the world, we cannot remain hidden. Our very lives and our words must proclaim the reality of Christ, but it isn't so much in our words as in our acts and our deeds. When people see the work of God in our lives, they will know that something extraordinary is occurring. They may not believe, they might never believe, but still if we are faithful, they will see and they will, each in their way glorify the one we are called to serve.
This is a tricky balance. From time to time I enjoy binge-watching sixties and seventies TV shows on YouTube. Right now it's the Time Tunnel, rather a cheesy science fiction program from 1966 and 67 about two young American scientists (males, natch, this was the sixties after all!). This, like so many TV shows of its vintage, takes itself just too seriously, no humour or irony, and so it really becomes its own shameless display of unintentional camp. So, it's kind of hilarious, if not intentionally so.
Last night I saw the episode about the walls of Jericho as they came a-tumblin' down. The two scientists land in Joshua's camp and they are dispatched as the two spies that infiltrate the city of Jericho and were taken in by Rahab the harlot. In the show they really make hay out of Rahab, as much as they were allowed within the strict confines of censorship from that era, and of course the two all-American scientists are also very pious and God-fearing and bible believing.
Now, I have no opinion one way or the other as to the veracity of the account from the Book of Joshua about the city of Jericho. It is said that the armies of Israel walked around the city seven times, then the walls came a-tumblin' down and they all went in and slaughtered everyone there except the harlot Rahab and her family. Hmm...war crimes anyone? Well, I wasn't there, so don't ask me what happened, or how it really happened. But posted in the comment section I read all these barmy pronouncements from barmy fundamentalists about how literally true the Bible is and one fellow even mapped out in meticulous detail exactly when the world is going to end in thirty years and Jesus returns.
I did comment in a couple of places. I asked the future-forecasting fundamentalist if he has been forgetting to take his prn's, darling? (the letters stand for the Latin pro re nata, or take as needed, and is a reference to the psychiatric medication that can be taken as needed in order to stave off symptoms of psychosis, etc. I know, I'm mean, what else is new?) Someone weighed in that it's all fairy tales, and I replied that even so, there might be nuances in those accounts that we shouldn't pass over (no pun intended). To another fundamentalist, I simply replied how sad it is that Christians are so eager to make complete asses of themselves on public forums.
Which is exactly my point, and what I would like to focus on about being salt and light to the world. Quite simply, we really need to shut up more, and live in a way that makes Christ real in our lives. The more we open our mouths to proclaim the Gospel, often the more we bring the very beauty of those words into complete disgrace, especially when our lives in no way measure up to the teachings of the One we presume to follow.
Saturday 18 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 83
Good morning , Gentle Reader, and Happy Saturday. I am going to continue today with the theme of my ongoing practice of memorizing the Sermon on the Mount in Spanish. Here are the Beatitudes, or as we call them in the language of Cervantes, los Dichosos:
"Dichosos los pobres en espÃritu, porque el reino de los cielos les pertenece.
Dichosos los que lloran porque serán consolados.
Dichosos los que tienen hambre y sed de la justicia, porque serán saciados.
Dichosos los humildes, porque recibirán la tierra como herencia.
Dichosos los compasivos, porque serán tratados con compasión.
Dichosos los limpios de corazón, porque ellos verán a Dios.
Dichosos los que trabajan por la paz, porque serán llamados hijos de Dios.
Dichosos los perseguidos por causa de la justicia, porque el reino de los cielos les pertenecen.
Dichosos serán ustedes cuando la gente los insulte, les persiga, y levante en contra de ustedes todas clases de calumnia. Alégrense, y llénense de jubilo, porque les espera una gran recompensa en el cielo, asà también persiguieron a los profetas que les precedieron a ustedes."
In English:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn because they shall be comforted.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, because they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the meek, because they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be treated with mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are those who work for peace, because they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for the cause of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are all of you when people insult you, persecute you, and raise all kinds of strife against you. Rejoice, and be full of gladness, because a great reward awaits you in heaven, because so also were persecuted the prophets that came before you.
Repeating these words several times a day, I suppose, can be tiresome at times, but as a rote exercise it is helping to inscribe in my soul the words of Jesus. And it is having an effect. I am assured by the constant repetition of these words that it is okay not to be perfect. It is okay to be poor in spirit, to not be obsessed with having self-esteem, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. It's okay to weep and mourn, for the state of the world, over our own weaknesses and failings, over our own sense of lack, and we have the hope of being comforted. And those seem to be the preconditions for longing for righteousness, justice, a better world and to be better people, with the promise that we will be satisfied.
It is okay to be meek, to live unnoticed and perhaps unloved, to be one of God's invisible children, attracting to ourselves no attention. The earth is our heritage. Humility teaches us compassion, to be merciful, and so we receive mercy and compassion, and this is all part of the process of giving us pure and clean hearts which become the lens through which God in his tender love and majesty reveals himself. We become by fiat peace makers, those who work for peace. We are transformed into people of reconciliation.
This really puts us out of step with a world that idolizes and adulates selfishness and strength, and the very beauty of holiness that fills the lives of those who are people of the beatitudes threatens the very order of a world that hates God and all things that are truth and love. Of course we are going to be persecuted, if not actively, then passively, when we go through life ignored, unnoticed, invisible to others while our very hearts are breaking.
This is the legacy of those who have gone before us. This is the legacy of holiness. This is the legacy of love.
"Dichosos los pobres en espÃritu, porque el reino de los cielos les pertenece.
Dichosos los que lloran porque serán consolados.
Dichosos los que tienen hambre y sed de la justicia, porque serán saciados.
Dichosos los humildes, porque recibirán la tierra como herencia.
Dichosos los compasivos, porque serán tratados con compasión.
Dichosos los limpios de corazón, porque ellos verán a Dios.
Dichosos los que trabajan por la paz, porque serán llamados hijos de Dios.
Dichosos los perseguidos por causa de la justicia, porque el reino de los cielos les pertenecen.
Dichosos serán ustedes cuando la gente los insulte, les persiga, y levante en contra de ustedes todas clases de calumnia. Alégrense, y llénense de jubilo, porque les espera una gran recompensa en el cielo, asà también persiguieron a los profetas que les precedieron a ustedes."
In English:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, because theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn because they shall be comforted.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, because they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the meek, because they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be treated with mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are those who work for peace, because they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for the cause of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are all of you when people insult you, persecute you, and raise all kinds of strife against you. Rejoice, and be full of gladness, because a great reward awaits you in heaven, because so also were persecuted the prophets that came before you.
Repeating these words several times a day, I suppose, can be tiresome at times, but as a rote exercise it is helping to inscribe in my soul the words of Jesus. And it is having an effect. I am assured by the constant repetition of these words that it is okay not to be perfect. It is okay to be poor in spirit, to not be obsessed with having self-esteem, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. It's okay to weep and mourn, for the state of the world, over our own weaknesses and failings, over our own sense of lack, and we have the hope of being comforted. And those seem to be the preconditions for longing for righteousness, justice, a better world and to be better people, with the promise that we will be satisfied.
It is okay to be meek, to live unnoticed and perhaps unloved, to be one of God's invisible children, attracting to ourselves no attention. The earth is our heritage. Humility teaches us compassion, to be merciful, and so we receive mercy and compassion, and this is all part of the process of giving us pure and clean hearts which become the lens through which God in his tender love and majesty reveals himself. We become by fiat peace makers, those who work for peace. We are transformed into people of reconciliation.
This really puts us out of step with a world that idolizes and adulates selfishness and strength, and the very beauty of holiness that fills the lives of those who are people of the beatitudes threatens the very order of a world that hates God and all things that are truth and love. Of course we are going to be persecuted, if not actively, then passively, when we go through life ignored, unnoticed, invisible to others while our very hearts are breaking.
This is the legacy of those who have gone before us. This is the legacy of holiness. This is the legacy of love.
Friday 17 January 2020
It's All performance Art 82
First, let me send out a parent advisory before I proceed with today's screed, Gentle Reader. This blogpost is going to contain unabashed, uncensored and unabridged Christian content. If you are a born again atheist, please find something else to do, maybe find someone on social media you can attack (but please don't!). Likewise sneering agnostics (agnostics of good character and good manners welcome and encouraged to read here, as are open-minded people of other faiths. I don't pick favourites, darlings.)
In October, I began to memorize, to learn by heart, Jesus' Sermon on the Mount from the fifth, sixth and seventh chapters of the Gospel according to St. Matthew. I am memorizing it in Spanish, which is my second language. I am doing this for a few reasons.
Primarily, I want to improve my language skills, and there is something about memorizing beautifully written Spanish and often reciting it when there is no one around to frighten that really helps engrave the language in my deepest mind. And I am finding that my comfort level in the language has improved, as my sense of ease in moving back and forth between Spanish and English, or simply remaining in Spanish.
I also want to strengthen, improve and maintain my memory. I believe that I am giving myself double benefit here. Memorizing stuff in your own language already does wonders for strengthening the memory and neuroplasiticy. So does learning a new language. This can only be win-win, this memorizing passages of scripture in Spanish for a native English speaker like me. I am at the age of senior moments, and like many folks of my vintage I have a vested interest in staving off all symptoms of dementia. My goal is to go on memorizing scripture in Spanish. After I am done with the Sermon on the Mount, the learning of which could well take me till next summer, I plan to tackle other passages in the Bible in Spanish translation. Stay tuned.
Of course this is also for me a vital spiritual exercise. As well as strengthening my Spanish skills and strengthening my brain and helping me maintain and develop new neuroplasticity, this is also a deep devotional odyssey into the very heart of my Christian faith. By reciting the words that I have so far memorized from the Sermon on the Mount I am reaffirming and more deeply absorbing the truth and beauty of the words of Jesus. And because I am doing this in my adopted language, the Spanish language itself is plunging deeper into my unconscious along with the words of the Gospel.
Because I like to walk a lot (a minimum of two hours a day in the winter, minimum of four hours in the summer, if I can fit it in with my work schedule), I also enjoy singing while I walk, if I am in quiet, less populous areas. So far, I have learned, memorized and absorbed most of the fifth chapter of Matthew. The music is improvisational, and I would say that it sounds rather like Portuguese Fado. Singing scripture that I have memorized in my adopted language, Spanish, beautifies and enhances the experience all the more. (though I'm not sure that many unfortunate eavesdroppers would be of this opinion!)
I will be sharing more about this in future blogposts Gentle Reader. Here are the opening verses, by the way:
"Cuando vió a las multitudes, Jesús subió a la ladera de una montaña y se sentó. Sus discÃpulos se le acercaron, y tomando el la palabra, comenzó a enseñarles, diciendo..."
(When he saw the crowds, Jesus went up the mountain and sat down. His disciples approached him, and taking the word, he began to teach them, saying...)
In October, I began to memorize, to learn by heart, Jesus' Sermon on the Mount from the fifth, sixth and seventh chapters of the Gospel according to St. Matthew. I am memorizing it in Spanish, which is my second language. I am doing this for a few reasons.
Primarily, I want to improve my language skills, and there is something about memorizing beautifully written Spanish and often reciting it when there is no one around to frighten that really helps engrave the language in my deepest mind. And I am finding that my comfort level in the language has improved, as my sense of ease in moving back and forth between Spanish and English, or simply remaining in Spanish.
I also want to strengthen, improve and maintain my memory. I believe that I am giving myself double benefit here. Memorizing stuff in your own language already does wonders for strengthening the memory and neuroplasiticy. So does learning a new language. This can only be win-win, this memorizing passages of scripture in Spanish for a native English speaker like me. I am at the age of senior moments, and like many folks of my vintage I have a vested interest in staving off all symptoms of dementia. My goal is to go on memorizing scripture in Spanish. After I am done with the Sermon on the Mount, the learning of which could well take me till next summer, I plan to tackle other passages in the Bible in Spanish translation. Stay tuned.
Of course this is also for me a vital spiritual exercise. As well as strengthening my Spanish skills and strengthening my brain and helping me maintain and develop new neuroplasticity, this is also a deep devotional odyssey into the very heart of my Christian faith. By reciting the words that I have so far memorized from the Sermon on the Mount I am reaffirming and more deeply absorbing the truth and beauty of the words of Jesus. And because I am doing this in my adopted language, the Spanish language itself is plunging deeper into my unconscious along with the words of the Gospel.
Because I like to walk a lot (a minimum of two hours a day in the winter, minimum of four hours in the summer, if I can fit it in with my work schedule), I also enjoy singing while I walk, if I am in quiet, less populous areas. So far, I have learned, memorized and absorbed most of the fifth chapter of Matthew. The music is improvisational, and I would say that it sounds rather like Portuguese Fado. Singing scripture that I have memorized in my adopted language, Spanish, beautifies and enhances the experience all the more. (though I'm not sure that many unfortunate eavesdroppers would be of this opinion!)
I will be sharing more about this in future blogposts Gentle Reader. Here are the opening verses, by the way:
"Cuando vió a las multitudes, Jesús subió a la ladera de una montaña y se sentó. Sus discÃpulos se le acercaron, y tomando el la palabra, comenzó a enseñarles, diciendo..."
(When he saw the crowds, Jesus went up the mountain and sat down. His disciples approached him, and taking the word, he began to teach them, saying...)
Thursday 16 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 81
My problem with the privileged liberal arts folk is how they undervalue and underestimate those of us who do not share their privilege. It's actually kind of insulting. It's the assumption that only people born into prosperous middle or upper middle class families can actually have the capacity for empathy and wisdom that I find particularly galling. What classist, what casteist absolute rubbish and nonsense!
This isn't to say that we wouldn't benefit from this kind of, shall we call it, high-falutin book-l'arnin'. Just as the privileged white and honorary caucasians in High Academia could also benefit from having to do without, to learn what it is to have to scrape together a living, to eke out one's existence, so to speak, and to actually get their soft little hands dirty as a condition for staying alive.
I had to learn through the whole uncertain but rather fun process of self-education. Not perfect, but better than nothing, and I think that has also helped me with writing this blog. I know that I am also a very resourceful person, and that living in poverty, having to do much with little, or more with less, has made me a particularly able and creative individual. I would say much so than your average university educated Canadian. This has also helped me in my experiences of language learning and travel.
The privileged classes always do poorly in times of adversity. They are too soft and too cosseted from their many comforts and conveniences. None of their lovely emotional intelligence is going to dig them out of the rubble after a killer earthquake. On the other hand, if the benefits of a liberal arts education became universally available and mandatory, how would this affect voting patterns?
The Brahmins and the Great Unwashed really do need each other. We need the knowledge and world view of the educated. The educated are lacking our resourcefulness and toughness. This all needs to be integrated. Lower class people have a strength and grit and a capacity for making creative choices and decisions that would greatly benefit the rest of us if balanced by the education that comes from free and universally accessible postsecondary education. Expensive, yes, but right now we are paying even more dearly for knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
This isn't to say that we wouldn't benefit from this kind of, shall we call it, high-falutin book-l'arnin'. Just as the privileged white and honorary caucasians in High Academia could also benefit from having to do without, to learn what it is to have to scrape together a living, to eke out one's existence, so to speak, and to actually get their soft little hands dirty as a condition for staying alive.
I had to learn through the whole uncertain but rather fun process of self-education. Not perfect, but better than nothing, and I think that has also helped me with writing this blog. I know that I am also a very resourceful person, and that living in poverty, having to do much with little, or more with less, has made me a particularly able and creative individual. I would say much so than your average university educated Canadian. This has also helped me in my experiences of language learning and travel.
The privileged classes always do poorly in times of adversity. They are too soft and too cosseted from their many comforts and conveniences. None of their lovely emotional intelligence is going to dig them out of the rubble after a killer earthquake. On the other hand, if the benefits of a liberal arts education became universally available and mandatory, how would this affect voting patterns?
The Brahmins and the Great Unwashed really do need each other. We need the knowledge and world view of the educated. The educated are lacking our resourcefulness and toughness. This all needs to be integrated. Lower class people have a strength and grit and a capacity for making creative choices and decisions that would greatly benefit the rest of us if balanced by the education that comes from free and universally accessible postsecondary education. Expensive, yes, but right now we are paying even more dearly for knowing the cost of everything and the value of nothing.
Wednesday 15 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 80
It's discouraging knowing that my lack of credentials diminishes my scope of influence. I lack credentials because I was born into a family that didn't know how to raise me. I don't blame my parents. I understand that they couldn't do a lot with me. I was not able to keep up my grades in school because there was no cohesion to my family and I was basically on my own from age fifteen, even though I still lived with my mother and for four disastrous months with my father till I was eighteen. There was so much going on in my life that I couldn't really focus much on my school work, which really didn't interest me a lot. I had to move out on my own at age eighteen. There were no options. I had to survive.
When I actually got into community college, just shy of turning 22, my means of survival were very slender, and events turned out that I couldn't continue in school and still survive, since my work in home support was so emotionally demanding, that after a day of giving palliative care and cleaning up excrement, in the evenings I couldn't focus well on classes, so night school was not an option. Neither was finding alternative, less stressful employment.
No supports, and I wasn't strong enough to do it all on my own. I don't think that anyone is really, and those who make this kind of claim, that they did it all on their own, are either liars, or are being very selective with their reporting. I have worked hard at staying as informed and educated as possible, reading widely, doing all kinds of research, becoming fluent in another language, Spanish, travelling, and meeting and befriending as broad a range of humanity as will tolerate me.
Our education system is still strongly skewed towards privilege, and so far nothing is being done to make university a viable option to students on low incomes, who can't even accommodate the punishing student loans and the mammoth debt that will result. But for a lot of us, who are above average intelligent, gifted, curious and want to learn, but still have to struggle to stay alive, there is absolutely nothing to help us stabilize our lives so that we can improve our life situations.
We need, as a society, a good and solid foundation in history, literature, philosophy, psychology, political science, languages, international affairs, etc. as well as every possible opportunity to widen our cultural vision. This is what helps produce thoughtful, thinking, open-minded and compassionate and informed citizens.
We have huge swathes of people who, through no fault of our own, are basically forbidden from accessing this kind of education. We also vote, by the way. And those of us who have not succeeded at least in educating ourselves are going to remain sunk in ignorance, fear, while scraping together our small and very narrow lives that are going to be focussed entirely on our own survival. In the US, it is those same people who elected el presidente Donald Dump who now festers dangerously in the Oval Office.
Last night I listened to the Ideas program on CBC. A prominent university president was being interviewed about the importance of a liberal arts education. I couldn't agree more. But if higher learning is going to remain the purview of the privileged, then, unless the rest of us are deprived of the right to vote, people are going to go on electing dangerous demagogues to the highest positions of elected office. Because they don't know any better. And because we feel left behind.
This needs to be addressed. More, much more needs to be done to assure that we are a nation of enlightened, educated, and empathic citizens with a global vision. As long as we let our governments enslave themselves and the rest of us to market forces, the liberal arts and humanities, which constitute the highest education, are going to remain on the back burner, and we are going to be all the poorer because of it. In fact, our global future depends on the broad availability and dissemination of this kind of education. We are already seeing what can happen without this education being widely available. We have only to listen to workers in the fossil fuel industry in Alberta, for example, as they scream and cry about not wanting to lose their jobs, hang the global consequences and the future of their grandchildren, since they seem so unconcerned and unaware of the impact of their industry on climate change and global warming.
Education should not be the purview of the privileged.
When I actually got into community college, just shy of turning 22, my means of survival were very slender, and events turned out that I couldn't continue in school and still survive, since my work in home support was so emotionally demanding, that after a day of giving palliative care and cleaning up excrement, in the evenings I couldn't focus well on classes, so night school was not an option. Neither was finding alternative, less stressful employment.
No supports, and I wasn't strong enough to do it all on my own. I don't think that anyone is really, and those who make this kind of claim, that they did it all on their own, are either liars, or are being very selective with their reporting. I have worked hard at staying as informed and educated as possible, reading widely, doing all kinds of research, becoming fluent in another language, Spanish, travelling, and meeting and befriending as broad a range of humanity as will tolerate me.
Our education system is still strongly skewed towards privilege, and so far nothing is being done to make university a viable option to students on low incomes, who can't even accommodate the punishing student loans and the mammoth debt that will result. But for a lot of us, who are above average intelligent, gifted, curious and want to learn, but still have to struggle to stay alive, there is absolutely nothing to help us stabilize our lives so that we can improve our life situations.
We need, as a society, a good and solid foundation in history, literature, philosophy, psychology, political science, languages, international affairs, etc. as well as every possible opportunity to widen our cultural vision. This is what helps produce thoughtful, thinking, open-minded and compassionate and informed citizens.
We have huge swathes of people who, through no fault of our own, are basically forbidden from accessing this kind of education. We also vote, by the way. And those of us who have not succeeded at least in educating ourselves are going to remain sunk in ignorance, fear, while scraping together our small and very narrow lives that are going to be focussed entirely on our own survival. In the US, it is those same people who elected el presidente Donald Dump who now festers dangerously in the Oval Office.
Last night I listened to the Ideas program on CBC. A prominent university president was being interviewed about the importance of a liberal arts education. I couldn't agree more. But if higher learning is going to remain the purview of the privileged, then, unless the rest of us are deprived of the right to vote, people are going to go on electing dangerous demagogues to the highest positions of elected office. Because they don't know any better. And because we feel left behind.
This needs to be addressed. More, much more needs to be done to assure that we are a nation of enlightened, educated, and empathic citizens with a global vision. As long as we let our governments enslave themselves and the rest of us to market forces, the liberal arts and humanities, which constitute the highest education, are going to remain on the back burner, and we are going to be all the poorer because of it. In fact, our global future depends on the broad availability and dissemination of this kind of education. We are already seeing what can happen without this education being widely available. We have only to listen to workers in the fossil fuel industry in Alberta, for example, as they scream and cry about not wanting to lose their jobs, hang the global consequences and the future of their grandchildren, since they seem so unconcerned and unaware of the impact of their industry on climate change and global warming.
Education should not be the purview of the privileged.
Tuesday 14 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 79
I don't believe that I was ever mentally ill. In fact, I have never been mentally ill. I have never hallucinated, never suffered from paranoia, nor heard voices. Even if I have wanted at times to harm myself, I was always able to talk myself out of it, without interventions. Even if I have been incredibly sad and despondent on occasion, there have always been good reasons for it, especially being treated like unwanted crap by others, and I have always recovered from it, without interventions. If I am still anxious at times, then it could be because my life has always been uncertain and I have been through some very chaotic shit with plenty of free suckerpunches thrown in. But even if my sleep suffers sometimes, I still get a good night's sleep, say, at least four days of the week.
I only began manifesting symptoms, otherwise, when I swallowed the claptrap from my psychiatrist that I had PTSD. This isn't to say that my experiences of child abuse and other horrors didn't leave their mark. I was vulnerable. But I also had to live and cope in a society and financial and political system that every day violated and still violates the values that I hold most dear. Try to make a decent living under those kinds of circumstances. Go on, try it! If you really want to live as a Christian in a system based on competition, greed and materialism, then you are simply not going to do very well. And if you don't have those ugly traits needed to do well in the workforce then, like me, you are simply going to be poor all your life. It's unavoidable.
And the very arbiters of this kind of sick system have the colossal nerve to presume to diagnose me as sick! What an insult!
I was really able to get on with my life when I completely repudiated three years ago my mental health diagnosis. If I am still a bit eccentric, well, so what? I am a person with creative, spiritual and intellectual gifts, so of course I'm going to be a bit unusual.
What about the clients I work with, who seem genuinely ill? I would say that most of them are or have been genuinely ill. Had I become trapped and enmeshed with the mental health system, I would probably be sick right now. The mental health treatment and recovery system thrives on stigma. We owe our jobs to stigma. And I have dedicated my professional life as a mental health peer support worker to fighting and resisting stigma and doing my due diligence to encourage and empower my clients to empower themselves and become their own persons in their own right, independent of a mental health system that really just wants to keep people sick in order to justify its own existence!
I only began manifesting symptoms, otherwise, when I swallowed the claptrap from my psychiatrist that I had PTSD. This isn't to say that my experiences of child abuse and other horrors didn't leave their mark. I was vulnerable. But I also had to live and cope in a society and financial and political system that every day violated and still violates the values that I hold most dear. Try to make a decent living under those kinds of circumstances. Go on, try it! If you really want to live as a Christian in a system based on competition, greed and materialism, then you are simply not going to do very well. And if you don't have those ugly traits needed to do well in the workforce then, like me, you are simply going to be poor all your life. It's unavoidable.
And the very arbiters of this kind of sick system have the colossal nerve to presume to diagnose me as sick! What an insult!
I was really able to get on with my life when I completely repudiated three years ago my mental health diagnosis. If I am still a bit eccentric, well, so what? I am a person with creative, spiritual and intellectual gifts, so of course I'm going to be a bit unusual.
What about the clients I work with, who seem genuinely ill? I would say that most of them are or have been genuinely ill. Had I become trapped and enmeshed with the mental health system, I would probably be sick right now. The mental health treatment and recovery system thrives on stigma. We owe our jobs to stigma. And I have dedicated my professional life as a mental health peer support worker to fighting and resisting stigma and doing my due diligence to encourage and empower my clients to empower themselves and become their own persons in their own right, independent of a mental health system that really just wants to keep people sick in order to justify its own existence!
Monday 13 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 78
I think that in order to really move towards wellness, it is going to be a difficult dance, two-stepping between accepting your diagnosis and rejecting stigma. This isn't to say that you have to agree with your diagnosis. Psychiatrists are often wrong, and any decent shrink who is worth his pills is going to admit it.
My mistake was accepting my diagnosis as fact. It wasn't fact. There is no scientific basis to diagnosing mental illness, especially if it's PTSD. It is all guesswork based on certain "symptoms", patterns of behaviour and baselines, and very little else. This isn't to say that they are never right, rather that there is always going to be a substantial margin of error.
When I was diagnosed and went through four years of rather intense psychotherapy, I actually came to inhabit the illness. I colluded and collaborated with my shrink and with the mental health system itself by accepting as sacred writ my diagnosis. Big mistake and for me a real obstacle to full recovery. Being told that I had anxiety made me not simply anxious, but I was persuaded to do my utmost to fill all the categories I could that would help define me as an anxious person. Even while working against anxiety, I still fell into the diagnosis trap and actually incarnated my possibly bogus diagnosis.
The same thing happened when a housing advocate nearly persuaded me that I had depression, not because I had depression, but as a way of getting me on pills in order to shut me up, since she was also in collusion with a very political priest whose church I was attending and was getting tired of my outspokenness about some of her many pet issues. But I thought I had the illness, since I trusted her, and was sure that I was feeling and manifesting symptoms. I would describe to her the symptoms and my housing provider would simply cheer me on. It turned out that neither my family doctor nor the psychiatrist to which I was referred, agreed with her and when I told her she dropped me like the proverbial hot potato.
I never was mentally ill.
I took on bogus traits and symptoms. There was never anything wrong with me. Ever since refusing to go on using PTSD as a get out of jail free card, I have felt well, been well and lived and acted well. I still have a bad temper and tend to get impatient and anxious about things I cannot control. But these are normal personality traits and I still have the responsibility to challenge, steward and control my weaknesses and deficiencies instead of swallowing pills.
To this day I thank Ed Chodirker, my psychiatrist of four years, for not giving me pills,
My mistake was accepting my diagnosis as fact. It wasn't fact. There is no scientific basis to diagnosing mental illness, especially if it's PTSD. It is all guesswork based on certain "symptoms", patterns of behaviour and baselines, and very little else. This isn't to say that they are never right, rather that there is always going to be a substantial margin of error.
When I was diagnosed and went through four years of rather intense psychotherapy, I actually came to inhabit the illness. I colluded and collaborated with my shrink and with the mental health system itself by accepting as sacred writ my diagnosis. Big mistake and for me a real obstacle to full recovery. Being told that I had anxiety made me not simply anxious, but I was persuaded to do my utmost to fill all the categories I could that would help define me as an anxious person. Even while working against anxiety, I still fell into the diagnosis trap and actually incarnated my possibly bogus diagnosis.
The same thing happened when a housing advocate nearly persuaded me that I had depression, not because I had depression, but as a way of getting me on pills in order to shut me up, since she was also in collusion with a very political priest whose church I was attending and was getting tired of my outspokenness about some of her many pet issues. But I thought I had the illness, since I trusted her, and was sure that I was feeling and manifesting symptoms. I would describe to her the symptoms and my housing provider would simply cheer me on. It turned out that neither my family doctor nor the psychiatrist to which I was referred, agreed with her and when I told her she dropped me like the proverbial hot potato.
I never was mentally ill.
I took on bogus traits and symptoms. There was never anything wrong with me. Ever since refusing to go on using PTSD as a get out of jail free card, I have felt well, been well and lived and acted well. I still have a bad temper and tend to get impatient and anxious about things I cannot control. But these are normal personality traits and I still have the responsibility to challenge, steward and control my weaknesses and deficiencies instead of swallowing pills.
To this day I thank Ed Chodirker, my psychiatrist of four years, for not giving me pills,
Sunday 12 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 77
I have just finished Thomas Szasz's short book about Virginia Woolf, "My Madness Saved Me." He would have been already 86 or so when he wrote it, and he doesn't pull any punches, basically declaring her to be a self-centred, neurotic upper class snob (anti-Semitic, too, and also an atheist, but who's perfect, eh?), and a bit of a fraud hiding behind a bogus mental illness diagnosis. I used to quite adore Virginia Woolf as a writer and as one of those rarefied and enigmatic British personalities of another era. And apparently, even if she was lesbian, she was really likely asexual, and we had might as well believe Vita Sackville-West when she insisted that the two women had never ever tested mattresses together. I would say the mystique has all vanished away now. I still think she was a brilliant writer.
Szasz is particularly famous for his two books "The Myth of Mental Illness" and "Manufacturers of Madness." He was a psychiatrist (he died in 2012 in his early nineties) who didn't believe in mental illness, that it was simply a useless catch-all for maladaptive behaviours, human irresponsibility and the fallout of a society not at all interested or invested in promoting human wellness. I largely agree with him, at least as far as the premises of his arguments are concerned, but I am also concerned that the fallout of living in a society that is so cold, self-centred and me-first materialistic as our own is going to create a toxic fallout of some people who, if they were not sick to begin with, are going to be very ill once we are finished with them, or should I say, once they are finished with us.
It often is awkward when one person you admire has basically pulled the rug out from another person that you admire. But then, who else could do it so well. Then, I read a bit about Szasz only to note that he also had his own feet of clay. Rather a bitter, stubborn individual not really interested in considering different points of view while steadfastly clinging to his opinions. On the other hand, he did seem to also share a common enemy with Virginia as neither were terribly fond of Sigmund Freud. According to Virginia, who met Freud months before he died, he was a miserable shrunken old man. Szasz mentioned that he was more interested in justifying his opinions than in offering people anything really concrete to help them recover.
Now that I'm older, I am aware of one thing. I would not particularly have liked either Virginia Woolf, or Thomas Szasa had I the opportunity of knowing them. And the feeling likely would be mutual. Simply put, I no longer care how gifted, talented, intelligent or insightful they or others might be. If they don't really care about others, if they are selfish, if they have no love in their hearts, if they are snobs and think themselves to be my own or other peoples' superiors, then really I would have no reason at all for wanting to know them. I can still enjoy the brilliance of their writing and their perspicacious insights into the world and into human nature, but being themselves such unpleasant persons to me also does something to taint their literary output.
I know that in my own experience, people have presumed to befriend me, not because they thought that I was nice, or caring, or supportive as their friend, but for the simple reason that they find me interesting. Which is really very insulting. I don't want to be interesting. I don't want to entertain others. I simply want to be a good, reliable and kind and rather ordinary friend who has others as good, reliable and kind and rather ordinary friends. Is that really too much to expect, Gentle Reader? Maybe I should just shut up more and act dumb.
Szasz is particularly famous for his two books "The Myth of Mental Illness" and "Manufacturers of Madness." He was a psychiatrist (he died in 2012 in his early nineties) who didn't believe in mental illness, that it was simply a useless catch-all for maladaptive behaviours, human irresponsibility and the fallout of a society not at all interested or invested in promoting human wellness. I largely agree with him, at least as far as the premises of his arguments are concerned, but I am also concerned that the fallout of living in a society that is so cold, self-centred and me-first materialistic as our own is going to create a toxic fallout of some people who, if they were not sick to begin with, are going to be very ill once we are finished with them, or should I say, once they are finished with us.
It often is awkward when one person you admire has basically pulled the rug out from another person that you admire. But then, who else could do it so well. Then, I read a bit about Szasz only to note that he also had his own feet of clay. Rather a bitter, stubborn individual not really interested in considering different points of view while steadfastly clinging to his opinions. On the other hand, he did seem to also share a common enemy with Virginia as neither were terribly fond of Sigmund Freud. According to Virginia, who met Freud months before he died, he was a miserable shrunken old man. Szasz mentioned that he was more interested in justifying his opinions than in offering people anything really concrete to help them recover.
Now that I'm older, I am aware of one thing. I would not particularly have liked either Virginia Woolf, or Thomas Szasa had I the opportunity of knowing them. And the feeling likely would be mutual. Simply put, I no longer care how gifted, talented, intelligent or insightful they or others might be. If they don't really care about others, if they are selfish, if they have no love in their hearts, if they are snobs and think themselves to be my own or other peoples' superiors, then really I would have no reason at all for wanting to know them. I can still enjoy the brilliance of their writing and their perspicacious insights into the world and into human nature, but being themselves such unpleasant persons to me also does something to taint their literary output.
I know that in my own experience, people have presumed to befriend me, not because they thought that I was nice, or caring, or supportive as their friend, but for the simple reason that they find me interesting. Which is really very insulting. I don't want to be interesting. I don't want to entertain others. I simply want to be a good, reliable and kind and rather ordinary friend who has others as good, reliable and kind and rather ordinary friends. Is that really too much to expect, Gentle Reader? Maybe I should just shut up more and act dumb.
Saturday 11 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 76
I think what I find particularly alarming about mental health stigma is the way some people become so habituated to it. The way one case manager expressed it to me early in my career, for some people wellness is a completely foreign country and that is frightening to them. This was particularly about a client we were both working with, who really was not interested in recovery, but simply wanted to be maintained and feel supported where she was at.
I have interacted with a lot of individuals with this kind of mentality. Discouraging, yes. And frustrating. Sometimes exhausting. But really discouraging, since they have become so used to the aromatic raw sewage of stigma they have been wallowing in that the very idea of changing that for pure clean water is not only threatening, but abhorrent to them. So, they appear content to live in their medicated fog, while shuffling back and forth between their mental health boarding home or subsidized apartment, to the mental health team or the activity centre for meds, activities, outings, and some sense of friendship and support from people who are being paid to look after them.
And I get it. If the alternative is going to be nothing, then even this is going to be better than nothing. Much better. In exchange for being compliant mental health consumers they get stable housing, meds to keep them quiet, three square meals a day, and free movies and coffee shop outings. Walks in the park and swimming as well. Some actually do form friendships, lasting friendships among themselves, others just stay on their own (I suspect a clear gender divide here, with the women being more inclined to be social), but the whole deal is, that if you don't stay sick, if you actually do recover and get well and stay well, by contemporary society's standards, that is, then you will be left out in the cold uncertainty of ordinary life, you will lose everything, and simply end up alone, isolated and worse off than ever.
People who end up relying on mental health services are usually just the same people who do not do well under competitive market capitalism. It is too rapacious, competitive, and merciless. And isolating. Those who do best in cooperative and collaborative environments, who rely on and offer the support that comes from a warm and supportive community, are going to be the first and worst casualties of market capitalism. Especially without supportive families. Add to this mix survivors of child abuse and dysfunctional families and of course we are going to need extended and enhanced mental health services, if only to help keep people alive and well enough to not really fall through the cracks.
When I was getting ready to apply for disability, some eighteen years ago, I was actually looking forward to no longer having to take full responsibility for my ,life. Not because I was lazy but because I was so emotionally exhausted. When I was refused advocacy after being turned down for a disability pension, I was of course disappointed. but there was also something very empowering about being left on my own,. Still frightening, yes. And even though I have done relatively well, I am still appalled that there are not more and better supports available for people on low incomes and especially for the working poor. Perhaps had I lied, had I acted better, they would have been persuaded to advocate for me and approve my claim for disability, but I have way too much personal integrity to want to go down that particular hole.
Risking wellness has actually propelled me towards greater wellness. Refusing to use a mental health diagnosis as an excuse for not moving forward has moved me all the further in life. I am not going to speak for others because it would be totally unfair to judge them. But this much I know. We have to reframe and redefine wellness, or we will simply be leaving behind more and more people whose lives and gifts are precious and essential to us all, and without whom we are all going to be left all the poorer.
I have interacted with a lot of individuals with this kind of mentality. Discouraging, yes. And frustrating. Sometimes exhausting. But really discouraging, since they have become so used to the aromatic raw sewage of stigma they have been wallowing in that the very idea of changing that for pure clean water is not only threatening, but abhorrent to them. So, they appear content to live in their medicated fog, while shuffling back and forth between their mental health boarding home or subsidized apartment, to the mental health team or the activity centre for meds, activities, outings, and some sense of friendship and support from people who are being paid to look after them.
And I get it. If the alternative is going to be nothing, then even this is going to be better than nothing. Much better. In exchange for being compliant mental health consumers they get stable housing, meds to keep them quiet, three square meals a day, and free movies and coffee shop outings. Walks in the park and swimming as well. Some actually do form friendships, lasting friendships among themselves, others just stay on their own (I suspect a clear gender divide here, with the women being more inclined to be social), but the whole deal is, that if you don't stay sick, if you actually do recover and get well and stay well, by contemporary society's standards, that is, then you will be left out in the cold uncertainty of ordinary life, you will lose everything, and simply end up alone, isolated and worse off than ever.
People who end up relying on mental health services are usually just the same people who do not do well under competitive market capitalism. It is too rapacious, competitive, and merciless. And isolating. Those who do best in cooperative and collaborative environments, who rely on and offer the support that comes from a warm and supportive community, are going to be the first and worst casualties of market capitalism. Especially without supportive families. Add to this mix survivors of child abuse and dysfunctional families and of course we are going to need extended and enhanced mental health services, if only to help keep people alive and well enough to not really fall through the cracks.
When I was getting ready to apply for disability, some eighteen years ago, I was actually looking forward to no longer having to take full responsibility for my ,life. Not because I was lazy but because I was so emotionally exhausted. When I was refused advocacy after being turned down for a disability pension, I was of course disappointed. but there was also something very empowering about being left on my own,. Still frightening, yes. And even though I have done relatively well, I am still appalled that there are not more and better supports available for people on low incomes and especially for the working poor. Perhaps had I lied, had I acted better, they would have been persuaded to advocate for me and approve my claim for disability, but I have way too much personal integrity to want to go down that particular hole.
Risking wellness has actually propelled me towards greater wellness. Refusing to use a mental health diagnosis as an excuse for not moving forward has moved me all the further in life. I am not going to speak for others because it would be totally unfair to judge them. But this much I know. We have to reframe and redefine wellness, or we will simply be leaving behind more and more people whose lives and gifts are precious and essential to us all, and without whom we are all going to be left all the poorer.
Friday 10 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 75
I think that empowering mental health survivors is one of the hardest things about battling against stigma. Let me put it this way. A number of the tenants in my building are adults living with a mental health diagnosis. All, if not most, are on some kind of government disability pension. A few years ago I eavesdropped on a conversation in the elevator, where three tenants were all bitterly complaining that if they earn too much money while working they could lose a portion of their disability benefits, which is indexed according to the amount earned, in this case by more than eight hundred a month. I said, "well, shouldn't that be the idea? Don't you want to be more independent?" No one dignified my comment with an answer.
No one wants to lose whatever they have or seem to have gained. I know that in my case, I applied for disability some eighteen years ago, or so, and was turned down. I was discouraged from appealing as the advocate I saw believed that I would do okay without it. She was right. I have managed, outside of paying government-subsidised rent, to remain completely independent of all other forms of government assistance these last seventeen years. And next year I will be getting my full old age pension.
So then, what have I accomplished? Besides bragging rights, I mean. Well, that's just it. Bragging rights. Even though I am still technically poor, I am also independent. I do not have to cringe, shrink or cower beneath a shadow of mental health stigma. Nor have I ever availed myself of the opportunity of simply wallowing and luxuriating in stigma, like it was warm sewage in a cesspit. In effect, I have not had to barter my personal autonomy in exchange for a scandalously low monthly pension that barely keeps my sorry ass alive while labeling me in bright lurid neon as a loser with a mental illness.
I do not, by the way, judge people on disability pensions as losers. They are there for a reason. But I also know that had I been accepted into that particular club it would have been my death warrant. I could only really move forward without getting that kind of benefit. Even though the purpose of getting accepted for disability was to make my life a little less difficult, in my case that would have also made things too easy. I would never get completely well without having to struggle like everyone else. A cruel reality, yes. But life is full of cruel realities, and by sheltering ourselves from this, I am not sure that any of us are ever going to become full adults.
Instead of getting the kind of help that would guarantee me food, housing and a little coffee or beer money left over, I opted to accept life in all it's cold and nasty cruelty, with the exception of government-subsidized rent. I already knew that I would never get a decent apartment to live in in Vancouver otherwise, and especially being then in my mid-forties, I was also painfully aware that my employability was being rapidly compromised by age.
Which is also to say that, had I not stayed successfully employed over the next seventeen years, I would be truly and terminally screwed. So, this way, I can least have it both ways: the government gives me decent affordable housing, and I can get on with my life as a working taxpayer supporting my own butt. Does this make me feel proud? You're damn right it does! Superior? No way! as a mental health worker I understand the bind a lot of people find themselves in. It has often been so hard to actually get disability assistance that there remains the legitimate fear of losing that gain once fully employed, and, if you are suddenly out of work, then what are you going to do? Well, such is the dilemma facing almost every working Canadian. But what makes it particularly toxic is the fear of having a relapse of mental health symptoms, rendering one again unemployable and without any financial support whatsoever.
So the stigma continues, perhaps self-imposed and accepted as such, but still a sad and indicting statement on the quality of care and the crappy attitudes that our government ministers have towards some of the most vulnera ble Canadians.
No one wants to lose whatever they have or seem to have gained. I know that in my case, I applied for disability some eighteen years ago, or so, and was turned down. I was discouraged from appealing as the advocate I saw believed that I would do okay without it. She was right. I have managed, outside of paying government-subsidised rent, to remain completely independent of all other forms of government assistance these last seventeen years. And next year I will be getting my full old age pension.
So then, what have I accomplished? Besides bragging rights, I mean. Well, that's just it. Bragging rights. Even though I am still technically poor, I am also independent. I do not have to cringe, shrink or cower beneath a shadow of mental health stigma. Nor have I ever availed myself of the opportunity of simply wallowing and luxuriating in stigma, like it was warm sewage in a cesspit. In effect, I have not had to barter my personal autonomy in exchange for a scandalously low monthly pension that barely keeps my sorry ass alive while labeling me in bright lurid neon as a loser with a mental illness.
I do not, by the way, judge people on disability pensions as losers. They are there for a reason. But I also know that had I been accepted into that particular club it would have been my death warrant. I could only really move forward without getting that kind of benefit. Even though the purpose of getting accepted for disability was to make my life a little less difficult, in my case that would have also made things too easy. I would never get completely well without having to struggle like everyone else. A cruel reality, yes. But life is full of cruel realities, and by sheltering ourselves from this, I am not sure that any of us are ever going to become full adults.
Instead of getting the kind of help that would guarantee me food, housing and a little coffee or beer money left over, I opted to accept life in all it's cold and nasty cruelty, with the exception of government-subsidized rent. I already knew that I would never get a decent apartment to live in in Vancouver otherwise, and especially being then in my mid-forties, I was also painfully aware that my employability was being rapidly compromised by age.
Which is also to say that, had I not stayed successfully employed over the next seventeen years, I would be truly and terminally screwed. So, this way, I can least have it both ways: the government gives me decent affordable housing, and I can get on with my life as a working taxpayer supporting my own butt. Does this make me feel proud? You're damn right it does! Superior? No way! as a mental health worker I understand the bind a lot of people find themselves in. It has often been so hard to actually get disability assistance that there remains the legitimate fear of losing that gain once fully employed, and, if you are suddenly out of work, then what are you going to do? Well, such is the dilemma facing almost every working Canadian. But what makes it particularly toxic is the fear of having a relapse of mental health symptoms, rendering one again unemployable and without any financial support whatsoever.
So the stigma continues, perhaps self-imposed and accepted as such, but still a sad and indicting statement on the quality of care and the crappy attitudes that our government ministers have towards some of the most vulnera ble Canadians.
Thursday 9 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 74
I might risk getting fired from my job for writing this, but it needs to be said. I do not believe in mental illness., There is no such thing.
(Gentle Reader, I will give you a couple of minutes to pick your jaw back up off the floor!)
There are certainly symptoms, there are delusions, there are hallucinations, there is paranoia, there are manic and depressive episodes, there is anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive behaviour, there are personality and mood disorders, and of course there is that famous sexy diagnosis that I had to live with for a while, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, commonly known as PTSD.
And there are pills for almost everything. Go ask Grace. She just might know:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug2EcWkb26I
I never went on pills. My psychiatrist gave me the option, since I still seemed to be managing my life okay. I had found stable affordable housing and was on my way back into the workforce. I was not sick. I was impacted by stigma and by the fallout of multiple abuse from toxic parents and sibling, and those were the issues that were addressed in my four years of therapy.
I consider myself so lucky that I never fell down the rabbit hole of mental health services, which I think do even more to make and keep people sick than the actual so-called illnesses themselves. I am thinking of the way so many mental health survivors become so enmeshed and codependent with mental health services that they are not able to really cultivate their own lives. And this is not to blame the mental health system, because this kind of fallout is going to be in so many cases inevitable.
Many mental health survivors have no other community, but their care providers and the peer support that comes from within their own ranks. The very conditions that have made them sick, also keep them sick, because there are four major vectors for mental illness, and they are social isolation, trauma, stigma and fear. Shunned by the community, friends and by their own families, we have here a whole population of people who are isolated, lonely and traumatized, plus they have to live under the dark fetid shadow of stigma because of the irrational fear and loathing from the larger community. They are scapegoats, considered little more than human collateral damage of uber-capitalism. Human detritus. Plus, by being expected to define themselves within the narrow grid of mental illness, or being sick, even by speaking out and attempting to advocate for themselves they often end up reinforcing the stigma of illness. Because that is how the community is going to define and frame them. And by default, by osmosis, many mental health survivors end up defining themselves by their fictional mental illness.
The various symptoms of mental health problems are themselves very real, and on this basis they could be called symptoms of illness, and I completely accept the necessary evil of psychotropic medications, for reducing the fear, terror and anxiety that comes from living with really severe symptoms, as well as providing a workable foundation for actually being able to rebuild their lives. in so many cases these symptoms arise and become unmanageable due to those four vectors of illness, social isolation, stigma, fear and trauma, and by the time the poor sufferers come into care it is too late to really address anything but finding ways of mitigating the symptoms and trying to help them make their lives tolerable and meaningful. This is all survival and triage. But we need to do better, much better.
We really have to begin forming communities of care, love and support, for one another. Communities that are more than professional networks, not defined by illness but by the common humanity we all share. It is the lack of love that makes people sick. Nothing else. This might never happen in my lifetime, and maybe never in your lifetime, Gentle Reader, but this is something that we have to start working towards, beginning with challenging our own selfish selves to be a little bit less selfish. We have to begin now to form and become those communities. We need visionaries to help bring this about.
(Gentle Reader, I will give you a couple of minutes to pick your jaw back up off the floor!)
There are certainly symptoms, there are delusions, there are hallucinations, there is paranoia, there are manic and depressive episodes, there is anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive behaviour, there are personality and mood disorders, and of course there is that famous sexy diagnosis that I had to live with for a while, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, commonly known as PTSD.
And there are pills for almost everything. Go ask Grace. She just might know:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ug2EcWkb26I
I never went on pills. My psychiatrist gave me the option, since I still seemed to be managing my life okay. I had found stable affordable housing and was on my way back into the workforce. I was not sick. I was impacted by stigma and by the fallout of multiple abuse from toxic parents and sibling, and those were the issues that were addressed in my four years of therapy.
I consider myself so lucky that I never fell down the rabbit hole of mental health services, which I think do even more to make and keep people sick than the actual so-called illnesses themselves. I am thinking of the way so many mental health survivors become so enmeshed and codependent with mental health services that they are not able to really cultivate their own lives. And this is not to blame the mental health system, because this kind of fallout is going to be in so many cases inevitable.
Many mental health survivors have no other community, but their care providers and the peer support that comes from within their own ranks. The very conditions that have made them sick, also keep them sick, because there are four major vectors for mental illness, and they are social isolation, trauma, stigma and fear. Shunned by the community, friends and by their own families, we have here a whole population of people who are isolated, lonely and traumatized, plus they have to live under the dark fetid shadow of stigma because of the irrational fear and loathing from the larger community. They are scapegoats, considered little more than human collateral damage of uber-capitalism. Human detritus. Plus, by being expected to define themselves within the narrow grid of mental illness, or being sick, even by speaking out and attempting to advocate for themselves they often end up reinforcing the stigma of illness. Because that is how the community is going to define and frame them. And by default, by osmosis, many mental health survivors end up defining themselves by their fictional mental illness.
The various symptoms of mental health problems are themselves very real, and on this basis they could be called symptoms of illness, and I completely accept the necessary evil of psychotropic medications, for reducing the fear, terror and anxiety that comes from living with really severe symptoms, as well as providing a workable foundation for actually being able to rebuild their lives. in so many cases these symptoms arise and become unmanageable due to those four vectors of illness, social isolation, stigma, fear and trauma, and by the time the poor sufferers come into care it is too late to really address anything but finding ways of mitigating the symptoms and trying to help them make their lives tolerable and meaningful. This is all survival and triage. But we need to do better, much better.
We really have to begin forming communities of care, love and support, for one another. Communities that are more than professional networks, not defined by illness but by the common humanity we all share. It is the lack of love that makes people sick. Nothing else. This might never happen in my lifetime, and maybe never in your lifetime, Gentle Reader, but this is something that we have to start working towards, beginning with challenging our own selfish selves to be a little bit less selfish. We have to begin now to form and become those communities. We need visionaries to help bring this about.
Wednesday 8 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 73
While listening to the usual global horrors on the early news this morning (a Ukrainian plane crash in Iran, killing everyone onboard, natch, just following the Iranian attack on American bases in Iraq) I am also thinking of a line from one of those church songs that I just cannot stand. The song is titled "I Am the Light of the World" and there 's nothing really wrong with the words, but combined with the Anglican church camp style of music and privileged little white girl hand-clapping, I do find it kind of trite, saccharine and nauseating. There is one line, pardon the sickly sweet phrasing, please Gentle Reader, "to dance at a baby's new birth." Well, thanks for the sugar coated hyperbole, you guys, and after you've clapped four times with that dumb smile on your face, let's examine this a bit, please.
Now, let us consider that not everyone dances over the birth of a new baby. In fact, I have never heard of anyone dancing because a kid was born. Smiling, yes. Handing out Cuban phallic symbols that you can actually put in your mouth and stink up the universe upon lighting one, well, that's a masculine tradition. Doesn't say a thing about postpartum depression, or postpartum psychosis. Nor is the swelling human overpopulation on the planet being taken into consideration. And nothing in that compunctuous little statement says anything about the absolute stress and pressure many families are under to actually provide for their families. I really wonder if that song might have been written by an Anglican camp counselor with bipolar symptoms and was simply on a smores induced manic high one night after campfire.
That song, for me, has become one irritating earworm. I often sit on the worship committee at my parish church, and almost every time, someone picks that awful dumb little song. And worse, everyone seems to love it. Well, okay, but I don't have to sing it. And I don't.
But just one little detail here. It is that line from this annoying earworm, "to dance at a new baby's birth" that particularly won't leave me alone. Now, even though I like kids, I still draw the line at bratty behaviour in public places, like coffee shops, and I can often feel my blood pressure begin to spike when I see yet one more barmy millennial mommy or daddy shoving their uber stroller in through the cafe door and the strident screamings of their entitled little brat start filling the place.
But often I am pleasantly surprised, the kids are actually fun and kind of endearing, and sometimes they take an interest in my art and I have at times ended up holding impromptu art lessons with kids and their parents while sitting in a cafe with my sketchbook. And you know what, Gentle Reader? It's been a lot of fun! Though other times the kids have just been annoying little monsters with absolutely clueless parents, but they still seem more the exception than the rule.
So, why would we be told, or expected to want to dance at a new baby's birth? I would like to think that this a sign of hope we should be celebrating. Hoping that maybe this kid will grow up in a way that they will actually get it right and will do something in their lives to help change this world and actually move things forward for the rest of us. At the very least, once they are of working age they will also be paying taxes that will help look after our tired and sorry old asses once we are in the nursing home. Could be worse.
Now, let us consider that not everyone dances over the birth of a new baby. In fact, I have never heard of anyone dancing because a kid was born. Smiling, yes. Handing out Cuban phallic symbols that you can actually put in your mouth and stink up the universe upon lighting one, well, that's a masculine tradition. Doesn't say a thing about postpartum depression, or postpartum psychosis. Nor is the swelling human overpopulation on the planet being taken into consideration. And nothing in that compunctuous little statement says anything about the absolute stress and pressure many families are under to actually provide for their families. I really wonder if that song might have been written by an Anglican camp counselor with bipolar symptoms and was simply on a smores induced manic high one night after campfire.
That song, for me, has become one irritating earworm. I often sit on the worship committee at my parish church, and almost every time, someone picks that awful dumb little song. And worse, everyone seems to love it. Well, okay, but I don't have to sing it. And I don't.
But just one little detail here. It is that line from this annoying earworm, "to dance at a new baby's birth" that particularly won't leave me alone. Now, even though I like kids, I still draw the line at bratty behaviour in public places, like coffee shops, and I can often feel my blood pressure begin to spike when I see yet one more barmy millennial mommy or daddy shoving their uber stroller in through the cafe door and the strident screamings of their entitled little brat start filling the place.
But often I am pleasantly surprised, the kids are actually fun and kind of endearing, and sometimes they take an interest in my art and I have at times ended up holding impromptu art lessons with kids and their parents while sitting in a cafe with my sketchbook. And you know what, Gentle Reader? It's been a lot of fun! Though other times the kids have just been annoying little monsters with absolutely clueless parents, but they still seem more the exception than the rule.
So, why would we be told, or expected to want to dance at a new baby's birth? I would like to think that this a sign of hope we should be celebrating. Hoping that maybe this kid will grow up in a way that they will actually get it right and will do something in their lives to help change this world and actually move things forward for the rest of us. At the very least, once they are of working age they will also be paying taxes that will help look after our tired and sorry old asses once we are in the nursing home. Could be worse.
Tuesday 7 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 72
There are a few smokers in my building. Which is sad, and rather stupid, I would say. We are all on low incomes, which is why we are living here. There are two heavy smokers across the hall from me. They live next door to each other. One is living with rather a serious mental illness (he was once a problem, by the way). The other is actually very nice and pleasant, but is often outside smoking on the sidewalk. They are both chronic coughers. I hear them. Day after day, and I think, how pathetic. Even with everything we know about smoking and its dangers. Especially for people on low incomes who can't afford the luxury of a three to four hundred dollar a month habit.
The sad and sick irony is that most people who still smoke are on low incomes. There are a lot of reasons for this, but I think the drive for empowerment is particularly problematic. There is still this leftover badass glamour from vintage Hollywood movies that silently promotes smoking as the ultimate symbol of badass cool. The chronically disempowered will grasp at whatever they can reach in order to feel empowered, even if the empowerment is nothing but enslaving themselves, in this case to a toxic nicotine addiction When you are poor and struggling for daily survival, you are simply going to cope the best way you can, and there is not going to be a lot of brain energy left for thinking out the consequences.
I sometimes wonder if that is the other reason why it is so hard for people to quit, I mean people who are already poor and disempowered. Losing that one symbol of self-empowerment, the smouldering cigarette, no matter how dated a symbol it might be, is for some one insult too many. So, even if having a sense or illusion of mastery over their lives is going to destroy their health, wreck their sense of wellbeing and send them to an early death, they are still simply not going to quit.
I think I get it. But it is so sad and so stupidly sad. If I smoked, I would not be able to travel. I would not be able to save money. And I would be feeling like shit, while standing outside every day in the rain and cold weather, digging in my heels while digging my own early grave.
Of course it's difficult to quit. I really wonder if someone really has to come to value their lives enough before they can really quit, and poor people are often so beaten down already that there is little incentive left to care. And this is one desperate and nasty addiction. I remember the first time I saw people picking up butts off the sidewalk and trying to smoke them. Gross, of course, and so very sad.
I was myself a light and infrequent smoker for a few years. I didn't inhale deeply, which I think protected me from becoming addicted. Like many of my generation, I grew up with a very easy going attitude about second-hand smoke. Even in the eighties, after having quit, I was still okay with guests smoking in my home. Then it was banned in restaurants, cafes and indoor public places. I jumped on the bandwagon, discovering the pure beauty of smoke free air. I became an intolerant anti smoking Nazi. I still am. And I still do my best to avoid inhaling secondhand smoke.
There is still quite a death dance about smoking. I am not sure that it will ever leave uss. I wonder if this could also be a curse. Tobacco, originally was used only ceremonially by many indigenous people. The Europeans appropriated it and turned it into a marketing cash cow. Could our chronic crisis of smoking, nicotine addiction and health problems and accelerated deaths be also part of a curse for this insidious cultural appropriation? And of course it is the most vulnerable who are going to suffer the most.
The sad and sick irony is that most people who still smoke are on low incomes. There are a lot of reasons for this, but I think the drive for empowerment is particularly problematic. There is still this leftover badass glamour from vintage Hollywood movies that silently promotes smoking as the ultimate symbol of badass cool. The chronically disempowered will grasp at whatever they can reach in order to feel empowered, even if the empowerment is nothing but enslaving themselves, in this case to a toxic nicotine addiction When you are poor and struggling for daily survival, you are simply going to cope the best way you can, and there is not going to be a lot of brain energy left for thinking out the consequences.
I sometimes wonder if that is the other reason why it is so hard for people to quit, I mean people who are already poor and disempowered. Losing that one symbol of self-empowerment, the smouldering cigarette, no matter how dated a symbol it might be, is for some one insult too many. So, even if having a sense or illusion of mastery over their lives is going to destroy their health, wreck their sense of wellbeing and send them to an early death, they are still simply not going to quit.
I think I get it. But it is so sad and so stupidly sad. If I smoked, I would not be able to travel. I would not be able to save money. And I would be feeling like shit, while standing outside every day in the rain and cold weather, digging in my heels while digging my own early grave.
Of course it's difficult to quit. I really wonder if someone really has to come to value their lives enough before they can really quit, and poor people are often so beaten down already that there is little incentive left to care. And this is one desperate and nasty addiction. I remember the first time I saw people picking up butts off the sidewalk and trying to smoke them. Gross, of course, and so very sad.
I was myself a light and infrequent smoker for a few years. I didn't inhale deeply, which I think protected me from becoming addicted. Like many of my generation, I grew up with a very easy going attitude about second-hand smoke. Even in the eighties, after having quit, I was still okay with guests smoking in my home. Then it was banned in restaurants, cafes and indoor public places. I jumped on the bandwagon, discovering the pure beauty of smoke free air. I became an intolerant anti smoking Nazi. I still am. And I still do my best to avoid inhaling secondhand smoke.
There is still quite a death dance about smoking. I am not sure that it will ever leave uss. I wonder if this could also be a curse. Tobacco, originally was used only ceremonially by many indigenous people. The Europeans appropriated it and turned it into a marketing cash cow. Could our chronic crisis of smoking, nicotine addiction and health problems and accelerated deaths be also part of a curse for this insidious cultural appropriation? And of course it is the most vulnerable who are going to suffer the most.
Monday 6 January 2020
It's All Performance Art 71
Germs, peroxide, silver and mental illness
Hey you guys,
I was just wanting to comment on a couple of segments on your program this weekend, and feel free to respond, as always. I am also going to make this email into today's blogpost. Don't worry, the identities of the innocent will be protected!
Saturday morning, you were having a conversation with a fellow about superbugs (well, it was a recorded conversation, so I can only guess what day it was taking place. I was wondering why hydrogen-peroxide wasn't mentioned. I always have this wonder chemical in my bathroom and it has literally saved my life at times, disinfecting cuts, scrapes and wounds, and used as a mouthwash for my not infrequent dental problems. I actually asked my dentist about it recently, during an extraction (not nice, but necessary), when she recommended that I rinse regularly with salt for a few days. When I mentioned peroxide she just seemed kind of oblivious and bewildered, as if she had never heard of it before. But trust me, peroxide works much better than salt. I was also wondering about the effectiveness of hydrogen peroxide against the so-called superbugs. Any chance of finding out for me?
I have been using peroxide for the last thirty years or so. I remember in a house I was sharing with some other people, there was one resident who seemed to have some mental health issues. As soon as he saw my bottle of peroxide in the bathroom, he flipped and almost yelled at me that "that stuff causes cancer!" I asked him how he knew. Mistake. He got really defensive, and, in the interest of getting on well with my housemates I opted to keep the peroxide in my room so as to not trigger him again.
Copper and silver were both mentioned during the interview, by the way, as having antiseptic properties. Interesting because, when I was networking with EMBERS many years ago (I had a housecleaning business, and was also trying to promote my art), my business coach swore by silver (that has rather a nifty ring, doesn't it? Swearing by silver). She used to keep small silver wands (magic wands?) in a basin of water on her desk and really promoted the water's power and effectiveness as a cure-all. Have you heard anything about this? By the way, if you think I'm eccentric (and you would have to meet me in person before making that assessment), you should have seen my business coach. She was a libertarian, did not believe in taxes and seemed rather fond of George W. Bush, who was then the US president. Or maybe not, my memory is long, but also ageing. (of course, with el presidente Dump now squatting in the White House, I would have to concur that even Dubya actually looked pretty good)
Switching over to your interview with a young musician yesterday, Sunday, I unfortunately can't remember her name. She has a mental health diagnosis and has chosen to use her songwriting skills and musical talent as a vehicle for destigmatizing mental illness. I found this interview intriguing and thought-provoking. First, full disclosure, I am a survivor, and perhaps even an overcomer, of a PTSD diagnosis. And I am employed as a mental health peer support worker, so this subject is very close to my heart and experience.
I really admire this young woman's courage in being so publicly open and transparent about her struggles and her victories and this is for me inspiring as I'm sure it is for others. I am little uncomfortable that this approach could also reinforce stigma. I think this has more to do with language. I do not believe that people with mental health issues are actually sick, nor that they should be called mental illnesses. There are a lot of convincing arguments behind my assertion, but there is not a lot of room here to explore it much, I'm afraid. But there is something about the word illness that also triggers stigma, and this is sadly inescapable. I really think that if we're going to openly address mental health concerns then we have to change our language.
This brings me back to a birthday soiree I attended, oh, some twelve years ago or so, maybe ten. Anyway, I was at my friend's apartment, celebrating his birthday with many of his other friends. There was one guest present, an elderly lesbian woman and a strong LGBT etc. activist. We were concurring in our chat that we had come a long way, now that same sex marriage was legally enshrined and more people were openly challenging homophobia. I mentioned to her that people with mental illness were next on the list for empowerment and for overcoming stigma and prejudice. This woman suddenly turned vicious and angry and she spat out, "At least we're not SICK!" Then, she walked away from me.
This is ironic, because my friend is also a PTSD survivor. In fact, years later he ended our friendship, blaming it on his purported "illness", I triggered him and he had to feel safe. Which for me was a wake up call. I vowed three years ago just after the sand termination of our friendship, that I would never use my PTSD diagnosis as a get out of jail free card. And you know what, Ducks? These last three years, of refusing to hide behind the mental health excuse, have been my best years ever.
Anyway, I really enjoy your program, I also enjoy when you are guest hosting, even if I bug you about it at times. But, as an elder, it is my job to keep you whippersnappers in line, eh?
I do hope I get to actually meet you guys some time, but i know we all have busy lives, plus I really respect your need and right to privacy.
all the best
Aaron
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