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Monday, March 31, 2008

GIVING VOICE TO BEAUTY...THAT IS WHAT SINGING IS


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Tonight I Celebrate My Love for You
Sung by Roberta Flack and Peabo Bryson
Uploaded by Derek Yeo popdjdysh from Singapore

I won't even try to connect the song above to the thought below. It is just here.

Tonight, I listened in on the Awakening class online with Eckhart Tolle and Oprah Winfrey and this song came to me...
"V' asu li mikdash, v' shahanti b' to kham.
Make sacred space for me to dwell, and I will be with you."
Composed by Hanna Tiferet Siegel

This is a song that I sing to myself on my walks and while I'm driving my car. It is a simple round and is beautiful when singing with two voices. Singing is a spiritual gift. I wasn't given the most appealing voice but my soul feels so much better when I sing.

"God is as close to us as we can risk being close to our real selves."
from the book Please Touch by Edwin M. McMahan and Peter A. Campbell

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Wednesday, March 26, 2008

WHEN EGOS RULE WE ARE IN TROUBLE

I am reading Eckhart Tolle's book A New Earth ~ Awakening Your Life's Purpose. So I am practicing being totally in the present. A big subject in the book is EGO. TRUTH is another topic. A topic I love. I think TRUTH is the center of the Universe. I am happiest when I feel in alignment with the Universe ~ the Source of All... and when I feel I am living the life I was given to live. I don't know if that makes sense to you. Somewhere I read that it is my job to be happy. When I feel guilty that I haven't done enough, I still feel good about myself if I am happy. Because I feel that if I can add to the happiness of the *physics of the Universe, that is enough.

Chapter: BEYOND EGO: YOUR TRUE INDENTITY
"When the ego is at war, know that it is no more than an illusion that is fighting to survive. That illusion thinks it is you. It is not easy at first to be there as the witnessing Presence, especially when the ego is in survival mode or some emotional pattern from the past has become activated, but once you have had a taste of it, you will grow in Presence power, and the ego will lose its grip on you. And so a power comes into your life that is far greater than ego, greater than the mind. All that is required to become free of the ego is to be aware of it, since awareness and ego are incompatible. Awareness is the power that is concealed within the present moment...The ultimate purpose of human existence, which is to say, your purpose, is to bring that power into this world. And this is why becoming free of the ego cannot be made into a goal to be attained at some point in the future. Only Presence can free you of the ego, and you can only be present Now, not yesterday or tomorrow. " Pages 77 ~ 78

"...If you believe only your religion is the Truth, you are using it in the service of the ego. Used in such a way, religion becomes ideology and creates an illusory sense of superiority as well as division and conflict between people. In the service of Truth, religious teachings represent signposts or maps left behind by awakened humans to assist you in spiritual awakening....

There is only one absolute Truth, and all other truths emanate from it. When you find that Truth, your actions will be in alignment with it. Human action can reflect the Truth, or it can reflect illusion. Can the Truth be put into words? Yes, but the words are, of course, not it. They only point to it.

The Truth is inseparable from who you are. Yes, you are the Truth. If you look for it elsewhere, you will be deceived evey time. The very Being that you are is Truth..." Page 710~71

- study of physical forces and qualities: the scientific study of matter, energy, force, and motion, and the way they relate to each other.
- physical aspects: the physical processes, interactions, qualities, properties, or behavior of something


I thought of ego while thinking of Hillary Clinton the last few days. I know the purpose of this book is for me to consider my own ego, my own presence, my own being in Truth...I get that. But I do see a woman in Hillary, who is trying to fill inner personal needs and she looks like she is using the rest of us to give her the identity she so desperately needs. Illusion is also talked about in this book. Summarily, I get this from Eckhart Tolle's writing: When we aren't true to ourselves, we live an illusion. We aren't living in Truth. And we are being dictated by ego. Our Past is driving us and we aren't aware of the Present...

Anyway, about Hillary and her story of Bosnia...
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................................................................. I was wondering how a mother would have her daughter with her in Bosnia with sniper fire while wearing bullet-proof clothing and not have a clear memory of it. And I was wondering why Hillary wouldn't have a conversation with her daughter about her daughter's memory of the Bosnia trip when repeatedly her story was becoming suspiciously untrue. Then, I saw this:
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NBC News covers the Bosnia trip and which Democratic candidate will get the nomination


CBS News exposes the story of Hillary Clintons 1996 trip to Bosnia, as CBS accompanied Mrs. Clinton and Chelsea on the trip. "Hillary Clinton admits she ... ("misspoke"). "
Uploaded by: go33tv
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CNN ~ Same story
Uploaded by: westthea
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Monday, March 17, 2008

OPRAH, ECKHART TOLLE AND ME


NOW IS WHERE TO BE

Tonight, with 2 million people, I was online with Oprah's class with Eckhart Tolle using his book A New Earth ~ Awakening to Your Life's Purposes. Sort of fantastic! We began by all 2 million of us breathing in and out together. I wonder how it effected the physiology of planet Earth : )

I've been wanting to share a poem I wrote when I was in college titled In Risking, but I couldn't find it in a timely manner, so instead I share this one that follows. In the meantime, here's to LIFE! And loving being connected to the best in all of us.

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Beautiful, calm.... guitarist playing the song
that Dionne Warwick sings below
Performed by overlord74 from Italy

Found, Not Lost
By Sandra Hammel

Are You Dangling? Are you holding on to life? Are you here?

Being-fully-alive is our guiding light.

Finding myself has been a journey.

And I love where the journey has led me.


Losing myself has never happened.

Thank you.

Denying parts of my self

never
seemed right to me

Although encouraged.


Being some thing other than what I am
just seems pointless to me.

But so many do it that way.

If I’m going to work hard at something,
it might as well be,
being the authentic me,

not a pretentious me.


In the end of either of those two choices, consider it

A pretentious person.
Who is she? What does she know about herself? What does she love about herself? How can she take what she knows about herself and relate it to
others?
How can she feel? How can life move through her? How can she receive life?

What does she really know? What is real to a pretentious person?

An authentic person.
Who is she? What does she know about herself? What does she love about herself? How can she take what she knows about herself and relate it to
others?
How can she feel? How can life move through her? How can she receive life?

What does she really know? What is real to an authentic person?


Which one will you be?

Betrayal of your self is the worst betrayal.

In the name of what, would anyone choose to pretend who she is?

Great pretenders are also great at denying what they feel.

Denying what you feel will kill you.

Some pretend to be authentic, but it’s still pretending

January 12, 2006
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"I know there's something much more,
even nonbelievers can believe in,
I believe in love...
let your heart lead the way..."

Uploaded by: dibotis of USA

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Friday, March 14, 2008

BARACK OBAMA'S MOTHER ~ A GREAT ROLE MODEL

I wanted to include this with the post below, but it was too long to post together.
So, now here is the front page New York Times article from today:

The Long Run

* A Free-Spirited Wanderer Who Set Obama’s Path

By JANNY SCOTT

In the capsule version of the Barack Obama story, his mother is simply the white woman from Kansas. The phrase comes coupled alliteratively to its counterpart, the black father from Kenya. On the campaign trail, he has called her his “single mom.” But neither description begins to capture the unconventional life of Stanley Ann Dunham Soetoro, the parent who most shaped Mr. Obama.

Kansas was merely a way station in her childhood, wheeling westward in the slipstream of her furniture-salesman father. In Hawaii, she married an African student at age 18. Then she married an Indonesian, moved to Jakarta, became an anthropologist, wrote an 800-page dissertation on peasant blacksmithing in Java, worked for the Ford Foundation, championed women’s work and helped bring microcredit to the world’s poor.

She had high expectations for her children. In Indonesia, she would wake her son at 4 a.m. for correspondence courses in English before school; she brought home recordings of Mahalia Jackson, speeches by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And when Mr. Obama asked to stay in Hawaii for high school rather than return to Asia, she accepted living apart — a decision her daughter says was one of the hardest in Ms. Soetoro’s life.

“She felt that somehow, wandering through uncharted territory, we might stumble upon something that will, in an instant, seem to represent who we are at the core,” said Maya Soetoro-Ng, Mr. Obama’s half-sister. “That was very much her philosophy of life — to not be limited by fear or narrow definitions, to not build walls around ourselves and to do our best to find kinship and beauty in unexpected places.”

Ms. Soetoro, who died of ovarian cancer in 1995, was the parent who raised Mr. Obama, the Illinois senator running for the Democratic presidential nomination. He barely saw his father after the age of 2. Though it is impossible to pinpoint the imprint of a parent on the life of a grown child, people who knew Ms. Soetoro well say they see her influence unmistakably in Mr. Obama.

They were close, her friends and his half-sister say, though they spent much of their lives with oceans or continents between them. He would not be where he is today, he has said, had it not been for her. Yet he has also made some different choices — marrying into a tightly knit African-American family rooted in the South Side of Chicago, becoming a churchgoing Christian, publicly recounting his search for his identity as a black man.

Some of what he has said about his mother seems tinged with a mix of love and regret. He has said his biggest mistake was not being at her bedside when she died. And when The Associated Press asked the candidates about “prized keepsakes” — others mentioned signed baseballs, a pocket watch, a “trophy wife” — Mr. Obama said his was a photograph of the cliffs of the South Shore of Oahu in Hawaii where his mother’s ashes were scattered.

“I think sometimes that had I known she would not survive her illness, I might have written a different book — less a meditation on the absent parent, more a celebration of the one who was the single constant in my life,” he wrote in the preface to his memoir, “Dreams From My Father.” He added, “I know that she was the kindest, most generous spirit I have ever known, and that what is best in me I owe to her.”

In a campaign in which Senator John McCain, the presumptive Republican nominee, has made liberal use of his globe-trotting 96-year-old mother to answer suspicions that he might be an antique at 71, Mr. Obama, who declined to be interviewed for this article, invokes his mother’s memory sparingly. In one television advertisement, she appears fleetingly — porcelain-skinned, raven-haired and holding her toddler son. “My mother died of cancer at 53,” he says in the ad, which focuses on health care. “In those last painful months, she was more worried about paying her medical bills than getting well.”

‘A Very, Very Big Thinker’

He has described her as a teenage mother, a single mother, a mother who worked, went to school and raised children at the same time. He has credited her with giving him a great education and confidence in his ability to do the right thing. But, in interviews, friends and colleagues of Ms. Soetoro shed light on a side of her that is less well known.

“She was a very, very big thinker,” said Nancy Barry, a former president of Women’s World Banking, an international network of microfinance providers, where Ms. Soetoro worked in New York City in the early 1990s. “I think she was not at all personally ambitious, I think she cared about the core issues, and I think she was not afraid to speak truth to power.”

Her parents were from Kansas — her mother from Augusta, her father from El Dorado, a place Mr. Obama first visited in a campaign stop in January. Stanley Ann (her father wanted a boy so he gave her his name) was born on an Army base during World War II. The family moved to California, Kansas, Texas and Washington in restless pursuit of opportunity before landing in Honolulu in 1960.

In a Russian class at the University of Hawaii, she met the college’s first African student, Barack Obama. They married and had a son in August 1961, in an era when interracial marriage was rare in the United States. Her parents were upset, Senator Obama learned years later from his mother, but they adapted. “I am a little dubious of the things that people from foreign countries tell me,” the senator’s grandmother told an interviewer several years ago.

The marriage was brief. In 1963, Mr. Obama left for Harvard, leaving his wife and child. She then married Lolo Soetoro, an Indonesian student. When he was summoned home in 1966 after the turmoil surrounding the rise of Suharto, Ms. Soetoro and Barack followed.

Those choices were not entirely surprising, said several high school friends of Ms. Soetoro, whom they remembered as unusually intelligent, curious and open. She never dated “the crew-cut white boys,” said one friend, Susan Blake: “She had a world view, even as a young girl. It was embracing the different, rather than that ethnocentric thing of shunning the different. That was where her mind took her.”

Her second marriage faded, too, in the 1970s. Ms. Soetoro wanted to work, one friend said, and Mr. Soetoro wanted more children. He became more American, she once said, as she became more Javanese. “There’s a Javanese belief that if you’re married to someone and it doesn’t work, it will make you sick,” said Alice G. Dewey, an anthropologist and friend. “It’s just stupid to stay married.”

That both unions ended is beside the point, some friends suggested. Ms. Soetoro remained loyal to both husbands and encouraged her children to feel connected to their fathers. (In reading drafts of her son’s memoir, Mr. Obama has said, she did not comment upon his depiction of her but was “quick to explain or defend the less flattering aspects of my father’s character.”)

“She always felt that marriage as an institution was not particularly essential or important,” said Nina Nayar, who later became a close friend of Ms. Soetoro. What mattered to her, Ms. Nayar said, was to have loved deeply.

By 1974, Ms. Soetoro was back in Honolulu, a graduate student and raising Barack and Maya, nine years younger. Barack was on scholarship at a prestigious prep school, Punahou. When Ms. Soetoro decided to return to Indonesia three years later for her field work, Barack chose not to go.

“I doubted what Indonesia now had to offer and wearied of being new all over again,” he wrote in his memoir. “More than that, I’d arrived at an unspoken pact with my grandparents: I could live with them and they’d leave me alone so long as I kept my trouble out of sight.” During those years, he was “engaged in a fitful interior struggle. I was trying to raise myself to be a black man in America.” Ms. Soetoro-Ng recalled her mother’s quandary. “She wanted him to be with her,” Ms. Soetoro-Ng said. But she added: “Although it was painful to be separated from him for his last four years of high school, she recognized that it was perhaps the best thing for him. And she had to go to Indonesia at that time.”

That time apart was hard for both mother and son.

“She longed for him,” said Georgia McCauley, who became a friend of Ms. Soetoro in Jakarta. Barack spent summers and Christmas vacations with his mother; they communicated by letters, his illustrated with cartoons. Her first topic of conversation was always her son, her female friends said. As for him, he was grappling with questions of racial identity, alienation and belonging.

“There were certainly times in his life in those four years when he could have used her presence on a more daily basis,” Ms. Soetoro-Ng said. “But I think he did all right for himself.”

Fluent in Indonesian, Ms. Soetoro moved with Maya first to Yogyakarta, the center of Javanese handicrafts. A weaver in college, she was fascinated with what Ms. Soetoro-Ng calls “life’s gorgeous minutiae.” That interest inspired her study of village industries, which became the basis of her 1992 doctoral dissertation.

“She loved living in Java,” said Dr. Dewey, who recalled accompanying Ms. Soetoro to a metalworking village. “People said: ‘Hi! How are you?’ She said: ‘How’s your wife? Did your daughter have the baby?’ They were friends. Then she’d whip out her notebook and she’d say: ‘How many of you have electricity? Are you having trouble getting iron?’ ”

She became a consultant for the United States Agency for International Development on setting up a village credit program, then a Ford Foundation program officer in Jakarta specializing in women’s work. Later, she was a consultant in Pakistan, then joined Indonesia’s oldest bank to work on what is described as the world’s largest sustainable microfinance program, creating services like credit and savings for the poor.

Visitors flowed constantly through her Ford Foundation office in downtown Jakarta and through her house in a neighborhood to the south, where papaya and banana trees grew in the front yard and Javanese dishes like opor ayam were served for dinner. Her guests were leaders in the Indonesian human rights movement, people from women’s organizations, representatives of community groups doing grass-roots development.

“I didn’t know a lot of them and would often ask after, ‘Who was that?’ ” said David S. McCauley, now an environmental economist at the Asian Development Bank in Manila, who had the office next door. “You’d find out it was the head of some big organization in with thousands of members from central Java or someplace, somebody that she had met some time ago, and they would make a point of coming to see her when they came to Jakarta.”

An Exacting Idealist

As a mother, Ms. Soetoro was both idealistic and exacting. Friends describe her as variously informal and intense, humorous and hardheaded. She preached to her young son the importance of honesty, straight talk, independent judgment. When he balked at her early-morning home schooling, she retorted, “This is no picnic for me either, buster.”

When Barack was in high school, she confronted him about his seeming lack of ambition, Mr. Obama wrote. He could get into any college in the country, she told him, with just a little effort. (“Remember what that’s like? Effort?”) He says he looked at her, so earnest and sure of his destiny: “I suddenly felt like puncturing that certainty of hers, letting her know that her experiment with me had failed.”

Ms. Soetoro-Ng, who herself became an anthropologist, remembers conversations with her mother about philosophy or politics, books, esoteric Indonesian woodworking motifs. One Christmas in Indonesia, Ms. Soetoro found a scrawny tree and decorated it with red and green chili peppers and popcorn balls.

“She gave us a very broad understanding of the world,” her daughter said. “She hated bigotry. She was very determined to be remembered for a life of service and thought that service was really the true measure of a life.” Many of her friends see her legacy in Mr. Obama — in his self-assurance and drive, his boundary bridging, even his apparent comfort with strong women. Some say she changed them, too.

“I feel she taught me how to live,” said Ms. Nayar, who was in her 20s when she met Ms. Soetoro at Women’s World Banking. “She was not particularly concerned about what society would say about working women, single women, women marrying outside their culture, women who were fearless and who dreamed big.”

The Final Months

After her diagnosis, Ms. Soetoro spent the last months of her life in Hawaii, near her mother. (Her father had died.) Mr. Obama has recalled talking with her in her hospital bed about her fears of ending up broke. She was not ready to die, he has said. Even so, she helped him and Maya “push on with our lives, despite our dread, our denials, our sudden constrictions of the heart.”

She died in November 1995, as Mr. Obama was starting his first campaign for public office. After a memorial service at the University of Hawaii, one friend said, a small group of friends drove to the South Shore in Oahu. With the wind whipping the waves onto the rocks, Mr. Obama and Ms. Soetoro-Ng placed their mother’s ashes in the Pacific, sending them off in the direction of Indonesia.

Source: www.nytimes.com March 14, 2008


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BIGOTRY, HOMOPHOBIA AND ME

VALUES INVENTORY

When you judge me at the end of my life,

judge me,

not my associates, not my family

or by those who didn't like me.

I have written before (Legal to Have Skin Color and Hair) about my own experience of being raised in a white culture and in 1960 having a crush at the age of 11 on a negro boy at a fundamentalist Christian summer camp in northeastern Indiana. So when I read about Barack Obama's mother's experience, I have some personal perspective what it is like to do something that is not considered normal or acceptable. Stanley Ann Dunham Soetoro is Barack's mother's name. And she must have been so very dynamic, individual, courageous, strong and possessing high ideals and valuable principles. A great example and a great mom.

And since I too had to let my son (who was adopted when he was 11) choose to live his high school years physically away from me, I felt another connection to the turmoil that I have experienced and know Stanley Ann had to feel. We love and that means at times we have to do what life requires of us, even though it is not what we would have wanted or chosen. To have to trust that life will take care of our children is an act of great faith.

I just went back to the first blog I started on TV Guide's website, where I wrote from the inspiration I felt by the first year of the TV show Brothers and Sisters with a gay adult sibling. What follows is part of what I wrote in one of my posts. This includes my experience with the bigotry in my own family and my broadening understanding and acceptance of gay people. Two issues that are still unresolved in the United States of America.

...Words can be used to disguise and hide what we are really thinking and feeling, and they can highlight and enhance the otherworldly experience of being human.

About this thing of gay human beings and a slice of America that thinks they are offended with gays being openly gay, two men kissing and what follows. Let’s put this in perspective. How outraged are people with men killing men, in genocide, war, whether with any kind of reasonable explanation for going into a war, OR NOT? It just doesn’t make any sense, well – to me,...that two men kissing is unpleasant or odious in any way. I didn’t know this about myself, until this show, Brothers and Sisters, put it in my face and I had to deal with it. I love it just as much as I would love seeing a man and woman kiss, who truly have feelings for one another. And in a way, I love it more, because, well, it opens up a whole new dimension to my life that I never had the opportunity to welcome into my consciousness. I don’t mean I plan to add this dimension to my own personal experiences. Not at all. I mean I can love life and the human race even more. Gaining something new to my awareness of life, human beings and diversity - just makes my life richer, broader and more dynamic.

I was raised in the Hoosier-Hysteria-Land, aka Indiana. I was raised Republican. My whole family is Republican. Only me - and well, I learned later, my Dad’s oldest brother had turned on the family tradition and was Democrat, too. My Dad was from a personality-diverse family of five siblings. Sitting at my uncle’s dinner table, after he had retired from his active physicist research, that he had done around the world, my uncle was surprised to learn that I had been raised no differently than he had been raised a generation before me.

The house where I was born is in a small Indiana town, which proudly has a sign out on the bypass for the Dan Quayle, Vice-President Museum. Very Republican. It was my second college boyfriend’s apartment-mate, who turned me into a Democrat. A memorable night in college for me was when we sat around listening to the draft numbers be called off for my boyfriend and his apartment mates. The Viet Nam War was going on. So this stuff was serious.

I was raised in a fundamentalist church. Where a lot of things are considered a sin. We couldn’t dance, swear, wear make-up, go to movies, talk back to our parents – ever!, the only sex - was married sex, ... you get the idea. When I was in second grade there were days of serious discussions about whether or not I would be allowed to go with my second grade class to see the Disney movie, Bambi. I had to tell the boy who asked me to the high school prom my junior year, that I could go with him, but I wouldn’t be allowed to dance. And we didn’t. I have been condemned to hell many times by my family members. Wearing mascara was one reason for condemnation, that I remember and another was rolling up my skirts above the knee in high school where my father was the high school basketball coach, as well as a teacher. The condemnations didn’t stop when I became an adult.

My life was pretty imposed upon. I felt smothered. But I knew what was right and what was wrong. You know, by my parents’ standards. The community I lived in was all white. I graduated high school in 1967 and entered college that fall, a commuter train ride away from Chicago. My family never said a word about Martin Luther King, Jr. or the civil rights that was on the TV every night. But it impacted me big time.

As a child, I always looked forward to going to summer church camp, which was always all white. In seventh grade, there were two black boys from Gary, Indiana, at camp. One night in the camp church service, the cutest black boy sang with this beautiful, clear voice. I still remember the song. I cried night after night when I found my two love letters from this young boy were taken from my bedroom’s desk drawer along with our picture together, which I read and looked at every night. Never a word was said where these things went. But I knew who. And I knew why.

...Betrayal of trust and the difficulty in understanding why I couldn’t “love” someone who wasn’t white - confused me when I was eleven. After all, I was always told to treat everyone as equals. Fortunately, I internalized this value, before it became apparent that they were just words. The family didn’t really believe that. But I do.

I’ve lived a diverse life. When I started my career, I moved a long distance away. Sorta had to - to find my own spirit. I am grateful for a life that has so far been very dramatic, colorful and full of graces. I have few regrets. I have traveled outside the U.S., for one. That alone is a great lesson in widening our small-mindedness. And I don’t care what the more narrow-minded might say about my chances not to go to hell. Our heaven or hell starts here on earth. And my life is heavenly to me.

In my childhood, I got religion. Jesus never said anything about sexual orientation. Jesus was gracious toward a prosititute, even. I have a problem with giving carte blanche to Old Testament’s words. The OT informs us how to treat our slaves. And the New Testament’s Paul has a great chapter, to the Corinthians (I, Chapter 13), but Paul also places females as subordinates to males. Not something I believe in.

So I don’t know - does the fact that there are some words in the Bible which people use to condemn same sex marriage and partnering - make it so off-limits to our using our brains to question the validity of the perception that God, gender-neutral, him or herself, may be just fine with gays being free to be who they are?

It takes nothing away from your life to live and let live. Really. It takes so little to be a good human being on this planet. Kindness is kindness in any language. And it is free.

In Brothers and Sisters, Scotty delivered a great line to Kevin in the episode, Date Night: “When you get home, more nights than not, you’re alone. Cause the one place you don’t feel secure and comfortable is in your own skin.” When things, such as two men kissing one another, rankle the senses, my guess is that you don’t feel comfortable in your own skin.

“…Take me down
You can hold me,
but you can’t hold what’s within.
Pull me round,
push me to the limit,
maybe I may bend,
But I know where I’m not going...
I will not be broken,
I will not be broken.

I will not be
someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
Cause what is livin’
if I can’t live free,
what is freedom
if I can’t be me?"

I Will Not Be Broken
By Gordon Kennedy, Wayne Kirkpatrick &
Tommy Sims
Sung by Bonnie Raitt

From the Gettysburg Address:

......The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us --that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth. Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, November 19, 1863, By Abraham Lincoln

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