Friday, 23rd o April 2004
No Person has the Right to Choose
I am sickened by the current debate over "a woman's right to choose." Are you fighting for death because life is not worth living? I understand the draw of the whole "ending suffering thing." Who wants to suffer. Who wants to have pain. We children grow up poor, uneducated, perhaps suffer some form of mental illness, have parents who beat us, abuse us mentally or physically. There are those that look at that and say, shaking their heads, "Poor thing, it would have been better had they never been born." A child not wanted is not worth having. A child not brought into this world in love is not worth the baby food to feed it, the federal program to restrain it. The fetal tissue that interferes with our lifestyle does not deserve to breath free, achieve its potential.
Some see the suffering of this life, and seeing no point to it all, believe it better to not exist.
Some see the suffering of this life, and seeing no point to it all, try to make it better, for heaven and hell are one, but in hell we cry out alone, the world lost to us by the veil of our own pain.
Contrary to what you've heard, there is no point to suffering, but where some see the solution as oblivion when confronted with the wounds of the sick, the desperation of the poor, and the cries for justice from the oppressed, there are others that find ways to make life better, ease the pain, and care for their fellow humans.
And what is simply off the table? We are not choices. We are life, and we have rights. No person has the right to choose life or death. These are the things that simply are, in all ways inalienable and incontrovertible.
It's not magic... there is no magic moment. There is no breath of God magically bestowing some sort of magical soul into the fetus. Is it life when the sperm fertilizes the egg? Is it life when the guy unhooks the bra? Is it the first trimester, the last? Is it life when it passes the birth canal? Leaves home?
Or is life some precise clinical moment where science tells us that "Yes there is brain activity. It is alive." Has digits? Has organs? Sucks its thumb? Responds to a stimulus? Says it hates you?
These two moronic arguments over minutia fail to realize that all life has struggled to exist since the beginning of time. It was here before us. It will be here after us. We are but among caretakers in the garden, tiny little caretakers, humbly tending to the bounty of the universe, joyous to have existed at all, grateful for the opportunity to live, honored to have been given such a gift as to be tenders in this wondrous mysterious place. But instead we pretend to be the masters of the garden, where we decide what is what, and what was and what will be.
There are only two things that are infinite - the universe and human hubris. And I'm not sure about the former.
Thursday, 22nd o April 2004
Mr. Personality, Chuckle-muffin,
my Bello-licioso
What a lovely morning I had walking with Jaimito. He's such a delight, and it's nice to see the world through his eyes. Everything is important to him.
We headed out the door around 7:20 AM. He was neatly tucked into his jogger-stroller with what he calls a "beep beep," little Matchbox cars that he loves. Olaia handed him one before she left with Laura for school. "Daddy! Daddy! Beep beep," he proudly said holding it up. "Olaia!"
"Yes, I know. Olaia gave that to you. What a sweet sister you have, Jaimito."
We walked down the sidewalk and turned the corner. "Daddy!! Daddy! Doggie!"
"Yes Jaimito, that's where the doggie normally barks at us." He remembers the exact house where a big dog habitually charges the gate and furiously attempts to protect his territory. The dog wasn't there this morning but Jaimito made sure to point it out.
We continued down the street on the sidewalk, the overcast morning and high humidity quickly drenching me in sweat. "Whew, Jaimito, Daddy's hot. It's hot out. Are you hot?"
"No!" he emphatically replied. "Daddy, Daddy! Beep beep go bye bye." He pointed out cars passing us on the street heading out to work. "Bye bye!" he called waving to the multitudes of morning commuters. Some, mostly women, waved back and smiled.
"Look Jaimito, the paper tree." We stopped and examined a tree with papery bark. I have to look it up and see what type it is. Jaimito pulled off a bit and made sounds akin to "Coool!"
As we got to the edge of the neighborhood where it borders with the countryside we heard a rooster. Cock-a-doodle-doo, it crowed. "Cock-a-doo-dl-doo!" echoed Jaimito. "Daddy, Daddy! Da cock-a-doo-dl-doo." And then he crowed in Spanish, "Qui-qui-di-qui! Daddy, wow!" The rooster humored us with several more crows followed by the answers of Jaimito, big rooster of the yard in his voice fuerte. What a show, let me tell you, like a chorus of barnyard sounds.
"Daddy Daddy, da boat! Da boat en da agua!" He called out letting me know about the house that normally has a boat parked in the driveway. It wasn't there this morning, and apparently Jaimito speculated that it was in the water. What a smartie. "Daddy, Daddy. Papoo (Papi Tito) an' da boat en da agua! W' mami! 'an Olaia."
"Yes, Jaimito, you went with Mami and Papi Tito on his boat in the water. Wow! That's neat."
"Daddy daddy, da ball!" He pointed to an abandoned ball in a yard that was now covered with mold. It'd been there for months. It's a highlight for this little sportsman. It doesn't matter the condition of the ball, as long as it's a ball.
"Daddy Daddy! Da arbol!" He stretched out his hand letting me know he wanted to touch the tree.
"Yeah, that's a big tree, right Jaimito? A big tree. Ooo, that's a nice big tree."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Ooo Daddy Daddy, da arbol!" We touched the next tree too. It was a little tree. I rolled my eyes. There were a lot of trees, and now we were going to have to stop and touch every one. Chuckle.
We did four laps around the neighborhood, and the highlights for that little munchkin never got old. Upon every lap, they were just as fresh and new and exciting as if they were the first time.
Monday, 19th o April 2004
Unilateral Ceasefire
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Why not say any of the following:
"Marines have run out of ammunition."
"Marines are tired and went on vacation."
"Marines didn't feel like shooting today."
"Decided to give insurgents a break."
"Marines bored with Falujiah."
Next up on our latin root bingo, Unilateral Agreement
Saturday, 10th o April 2004
Oh holy crap, how I am annoyed by both political parties.
On the one hand, conservatives are for the rights of the unborn, which is good. On the other, they are against gay marriage, which is bad. Liberals are against the rights of the unborn, which is bad, but for the rights of gays (maybe), which is good. What's a conscientious person to do?
How come these incongruent beliefs naturally group like Cheerios in a bowl of milk? Is there some natural attraction, some political Vanderwaals force or something? How come there's nobody out there that's pro-animal rights, anti-death penalty, anti-euthanasia, pro-life, pro-gay marriage, and pro-equal rights. Or just to be internally consistent, pro-euthanasia, pro-death penalty, pro-abortion, anti-animal rights, anti-gay marriage, and a member of the KKK. I'm a big believer in internal consistency. How come both wings of our political system are so off balance? I'm a tree hugger personally, but I'm also a baby hugger, a lover of dogs and animals, appreciative of the meat that I eat, anti-death penalty, and see that those among us that are most disabled, weak, or oppressed are those that deserve the full measure of our protection.
What is going on in this country, where what the majority decides, or the whimsy of popular opinion, can trump the constitution that guarantees equal rights to all. In California, Gov. Schwarzenegger advocates for the rights of the voters who voted to uphold that marriage is between a man and a woman. What?! Their rights? How in the hell do their rights have anything to do with the liberty of Americans to marry whom they choose? How can anyone rationalize a certain right applying to one group of Americans but not another? Pick a right, any right, I dare you. I dare you find something that is not strictly biological or geographical (like men can't bear children or you can't swim in the ocean because you live in North Dakota) where you are not allowed some right by law afforded to some other Americans.
We might say to gays, "If you want to get married, no one is stopping you." And as an aside, with a snicker, "Just let them marry someone of the opposite sex. Men marry women. Women marry men. Simple." You have all the rights I have, as long as you agree with me.
And in an earlier time we remember all too well, "Well, since you were born a little black boy, you can't go to school with little white Johnny."
"Why?"
"'Cause that's jus' the way it is, boy. It's God's law."
We as a nation grew up and it became apparent to us that such attitudes were wrong-headed. We had blinders and hadn't seen the truth. We see it now though. Whew! Glad we've realized it. Weren't we fools back then? So ignorant, so bigoted. Gosh, we're so superior now. We get it!
Do you actually have a GOOD reason for not wanting to let gays marry? Come on, I'm open-minded. I'd like to hear this Truth that gay marriage will lead to the death of society and the institution of marriage. I'll listen, and I'm open to any explanation on how gay marriage will affect you in your marriage, or your kids marriage, or your grandkids, or or or. My only caveat is that you can't use the Bible as proof. The Bible will only work if its laws are binding in U.S court, and the last time I checked the U.S. was not a theocracy, and not everyone was a Christian.
Mayor Daly of Chicago, put it like this, "Don't kid yourselves, divorce has done more harm to marriage than anything else." I'd agree with that and tack on, TV, popular culture, consumerism, false expectations, and co-habitation as the true dry rot of the institution of marriage. What is that bible quote about noting the splinter in the eye of another but failing to see the log in your own.
So what can gay marriage do for marriage? I see these long lines of people in San Francisco, standing in the rain, the cold, looking to bind their lives to one another and witness before the state, profess their devotion, and go one better than just shacking up. They are taking a leap of faith, making a commitment in love. I don't see them as subverting marriage. I don't see them making a political statement, trying to tear down OUR beloved institution of marriage, like some ancient barbarians at the city wall just waiting to loot and sack. No, watching all the couples in San Francisco getting married does not turn my stomach. It fills me with great hope. Here are people, who through all the shit that we little monkeys throw at them, given the opportunity, their first step is toward devotion and commitment to each other. They are taking a leap. What could be more noble than that?
I'd say we have much to learn from their example.
Rant mode on... or ala Johnny Storm, "Flame on!"
Well, while we're contradicting ourselves, let's talk about animal rights groups. "Trees have rights. Dogs cannot be owned (only cared for) etc. in California" While at the same time saying that human beings in fetal form have NO rights and are useless, disregarding the fact that as soon as they pass the arbitrary barrier of the birth canal, wham, magically they have lots of cool rights, unless of course they end up being gay. Damn, sucks to be you. Glad I'm not an abortion or worse... gay. Tsk tsk, equal rights don't apply to you.
All the contradictions only serve to confirm one fact: Humans will do what they want to do in any given circumstance because we believe we have the right to do what we want, that MY rights trump all of your rights, when I deem it so.
- When we needed land, we decided that the native inhabitants were only savages and killed them, moved them.
- When we needed manual labor for agricultural work, we went and got slaves because we had conveniently deemed them non-human, and then later we compromised and said they were 3/5th of a human. Hey, give us a little credit, huh? Such nobility.
- When we (humanity) decided that our woes were Jew-induced, we decided they were not human and killed them.
- When we decided we were offended by those different than ourselves, we decided to call them immoral and abominations.
- When we decided that a human life was causing us inconvenience, we decided it was tissue.
- When we needed votes, we appealed to the basest instincts, the lowest prejudices, the most primitive emotions.
This, my friends, is why religion and government should never ever mix. This is what we get, governments that persecute and oppress those that are deemed outside of the moral fabric of some arbitrary belief system based on an ancient book. Jesus didn't say ala Dr. Phil, "Buy my book." He said listen to my message. And his message takes the form of two rules:
- Love each other.
- see rule 1.
Ah, but the list of contradictions goes on and on. Instead of elevating our lives, our aspirations, we debase them, pawning our tiny little hearts for a bit of instant gratification at someone else's expense.
Don't kid yourselves. Both we and our parties are big bags of contradictory hot air. It's time for us to stand up for what's right, human dignity.
Friday, 26th o March 2004
The Passion of the Christ
I didn't want to go. They made me, sort of kicking and screaming. I don't know really why I didn't want to see it. Maybe it was because it was such a big thing, in vogue. If it's in the current fashion, I want something else. Maybe I felt uncomfortable around religious people. I kept making jokes. "Is this where the religious wackos hang out?" or "Oh, you're one of those religious people." I mean, we all go to church together, so I'm one of you too. I'd chuckle.
But there was a kernel of truth there in those off-handed comments, that belied what I really felt. Sometimes I feel like I don't fit in. When I'm in mass, I'm one of the "in" crowd, part of the culture, on the inside. Sometimes, though, I feel like an infiltrator, like they're going to find out who I really am and boot me. Sssh.
In all reality, the Catholic church bugs me to no end, from the Pope on down. There's lots of things that are weird, wrong, or just plain stupid. Many people are sheep. Much of the hierarchy is lost in the abstract, wrapped around many layers of dogma, protective coatings designed to preserve rather than serve. And the people; coming to mass hoping to receive something, perhaps a magic wafer? They hop into their cars and rush off to some trivial secular affair, content that they have done their weekly hour of religious devotion. They learned the right words to say. Piety comes in a can.
And then there are those that have mystified things to an unrecognizable degree...Virgin Marys in wet cement in Guatemala, weeping statues, dripping candles, mystical lights, apparitions, miracles. Each of these people believing that they have faith, but really deep deep down they hope that their faith can be proven, and seek something upon which to rest their salvation. May I have a coaster for this cup of mine, I am having trouble holding it.
And so there I am, left lamenting the dogma, practice, and the many faulty hearts and minds of humanity. I am now forced to endure an epic produced and directed by a pre Second Vatican Council zealot, a movie deemed to be anti-semitic by the media at large. What's more, even among critics favorable to the movie, it is said to be the bloodiest two hours in movie making history, hard to watch, and downright gratuitous. I'm not really in a good place right now, I don't know if this is going to help.
Well, let's just get this thing over with. At least I am getting out of the house, and I got to see the Spider-man 2 trailer that's showing.
As the final movie credits started rolling, Laura began to feel sick, so I got up to help her to the lobby. I began to get uncomfortable at the world closing in around me, like I'd stepped outside naked. I wanted to hide, run away. I wasn't ready to leave the darkness of the theater yet. Now, I'm standing here amongst the popcorn, teenagers, parents, and hustle bustle of activity. I thrust my hands in my pockets. I felt trapped. I stepped outside. It was raining torrentially, exaggeratedly. It was a wall of water. I stood there briefly trying to contain my emotions. I struggled there uncomfortable, wanting to be alone, so I ran. I stepped off the curb bursting into tears, and soaked immediately as I made my way to the car, a quarter mile away or so.
I remembered the scene in the movie that broke up all the parents in our row. Jesus had stumbled as the Romans are beating and taunting him. His mother, who has had trouble facing the whole affair had been hiding on a side street too distraught to look. She suddenly flashes back to a fall that her son had suffered at an early age, perhaps 5 years old or so. She runs to him to pick him up and comfort him, comfort her son who was hurting. Mommy's here, don't cry. She suddenly realizes her place and rushes to his side. There was not a parent with a dry eye in the house.
We watched Jesus come to terms with his life, his mission, his vocation. The movie opens with him pleading to have this burden lifted, why oh why must it be this way, he asks. Beyond any sort of mystical or metaphysical possibility of ANYONE being able to lift his burden from him, was the realization that he was who he was. If he were to run away, he would not be who he was. He had heard his calling in life and once heard, there was no other possible course of action. It would be as if you grew up to be an artist, engineer, politician, leader... could you be anything but that to which you were called, that which you knew to be right and natural, that which filled you with passion?
It's weird, but there's nothing religious about this. Christians will say, "God is calling you. Listen to His will. Do His bidding." What they are really saying is, "Be true to who you are." Who am I? Well, that sometimes takes reflection. You've got to seek it actively, sometimes be quiet, sometimes listen to the voices of others, sometimes take chances, sometimes make decisions. In the end, when you are doing what you were meant to do, it will feel like love. You just know.
Love isn't easy, and neither is vocation, but could I be anything but who I am? Sure, you may sell out your life, ignore your true vocation, be moderately happy, and die having been successful, but once you realize your vocation, your calling, can you ever go back, no matter the cost?
When Martin Luther King Jr. realized that he had to bring freedom to America, they told him he was crazy, a trouble maker, stirring things wrongly. Just relax, play ball, and have a nice fulfilling peaceful life quiet and tranquil with your life and family. I am sure Martin Luther King Jr. wished for this at times, worried about his family, his friends and what he was putting them through. Damnit, why did it have to be me, I am sure he asked. He was compelled to act, and he knew no other way to be. He realized his place. It may not have been the path he would have picked on a multiple choice test, but once he realized it, that was it.
Laura and I are in Puerto Rico trying to get a foot-old through Open Source software, trying to reform education, technology policy, the status quo, and raise two children. Does it make it any easier to know that there is no other way to be, no other course of action in which we would be satisfied. If we jumped the tracks, we'd inevitably find ourselves veering back to this one. As much as we suffer and struggle, there is no other course of action for us. Why oh why am I like this? Why couldn't I have been born a rule follower, a person satisfied with the way things are? Why oh, why must I attempt to change things? I cause turmoil both for myself and others. I fail more often than I succeed. Everything is a struggle. Why did you make me this way, God?
Jesus pondered that, lamented that a rollback was an impossibility, but did realize that it was nice to just vent every once in a while.
The full weight of vocation hit me during this movie. I think this is the strongest and most important thing that could possibly come from this, and one that kept playing over and over to me throughout. It hit me so hard, it knocked me over, and I lost it for bit. It wasn't religous, it wasn't magic.
Jesus knew what he had to do. Geez, and they crucified him. And he knew it, and he could have sidestepped it, but he couldn't, didn't want to... no couldn't, even if he wanted to, because that was who he was.