Sigh. Why I never write about politics. It's not the comments from other people (of which there have been none, to the last post) that I can't take. It's the ones from the mob of voices in my own head.
While, thankfully, I don't seem to count any racists or extreme conservatives or status-quo-preservers among that number, there is quite the contingent of anxious PR-agents, devil's-advocates, and all-around backside-coverers who lose no time in suggesting all the BUTs and YETs that I forgot to anticipate and respond to. And on a subject containing as many possible points of view as there are people, there's no lack of such voices. Well, I'm not making the effort now to presume to answer all such challenges. Especially when, so far at least, they come from my own mind. Only to suggest a couple of things, on the immigration argument. And these aren't totally original points either. But they do, I think, deserve a little more hearing.
One, and this is the most basic to me and I'll say it as basic as I can: what if we let people be humans first, and political entities second? That is, what if we first made the vast concession of acceding our own categorizations to however we perceive that we got here, on this planet (created and gifted with life? miraculously evolved? matter from the void?), in the first place? Or, more practical and present, what if we recognized our mutual existence as living, breathing beings with the same basic needs (water, food, safety, shelter, opportunities for self-sustenance), as a fact occurring before such things as nations, governments, and borders? This is the most foundational, most astonishing assumption of the discussion, that I fail completely to understand. And an assumption that seems to be intrinsic, unquestioned. But I question it not least because I understood it to be woven into our Declaration of Independence, and our Constitution. Although my suspicion is that the disparity comes from too many arguments being made by people who have never had a moment to have to imagine these basic human needs not being met. Have not ever been required to acknowledge their own humanity, at such an essential level as that which our founding documents affirm and protect.
And second. What if, instead of such talk of "securing" a geopolitical boundary, we looked at how many boundaries are already more-than-amply secured around life in this country? Boundaries between those who have their basic needs met, and those who don't? Rather than artificial geographic constructs crossing not only history and culture, not only need and desire and commonality, but equally fundamental, vast, and real things such as ecosystems and watersheds...what if we looked at how clearly, as a man-made political entity called "country", we've already secured many other borders? Across such frontiers as access to healthcare, basic community participation, communication, and meaningful work? No, we don't look at those lines, and it's not just due to prejudice against that "Other" perceived as arriving from outside those lines on the map. It's because we can't acknowledge how many of the so-called "us" in this country are aliens to its essential benefits. Even in light of the - yes - remarkable mobility and opportunity available to all who, again, are able to first meet their basic survival needs.
I know, now I'm preaching to the choir. Probably everyone I know can more or less agree with me here. All my friends and community members who, like me, don't have health insurance, and never have. All those who long to be more of a voice in the life of their community, but can't because their less-than-living wage requires them to work nights and weekends. And the recent immigrants I know, who for lack of a 9-digit number are unable to compete - not with you, policymakers and loud reactionary voices, but with ME! - for a housecleaning, landscaping, or service industry job. These are the voices that I, reluctantly and less-than-articulately, raise my voice for now and then. Despite the despair that I get from the newspaper. And despite the chorus of naysayers in my own head.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
criminal sanctuary
Gooood morning. Here's the headline with which the Journal welcomes us to today: Albuquerque, according to our newly elected mayor Richard Berry, will no longer be a "'sanctuary' for criminals". His new policy for the city directs that "Federal agents will check the immigration status of everyone arrested in Albuquerque — regardless of national origin". This will be accomplished with the efforts of Federal agents working at the city detention center. He assures, however, that "racial profiling with not be tolerated", and that the status of victims and witnesses will not be checked. Well, good for that at least. But I had to appreciate the responses cited in the article. A spokeswoman for the local El Centro de Igualdad y Derechos says it's "disingenuous" for the Mayor to make such a declaration, since Albuquerque has never officially been a place of "sanctuary" to begin with. And an ACLU speaker appreciates the Mayor's promises about profiling, as they provide motivation for all those concerned about basic human rights and dignity to monitor, even more closely, whether such promises are kept in our city.
And it motivates my own little thought, since I first started hearing about Arizona. Before it comes here (and, Love willing, it won't), and before it tries to become the kind of fearmind and unconsciousness that threatens all people, and not just one race or background or nationality: let's all start carrying our passports with us wherever we go. And if we're stopped, for whatever violation or routine inquiry, let's demand that consistency is enforced. Let's make sure that our tax dollars, and our collective need for national security, and our paid law enforcement's time, is well and rightly spent. Let's make them check every one of our right to be here. Let's offer them the opportunity to prove, on each and every available occasion, that this is not "racial", not about a legal system somehow upheld by actions based on the outward appearances of people. And that our states' and country's laws are upheld on princicples more valid than contingency and suspicion. Let's remind them that, since a nation consists ultimately of its people, not of its statutes, which I understand are written for the people (if of and by are too much to ask), that action in the name of "national security" does, in fact, affect the nation. And that's us. Every one of us.
For a bit of relief to this story, I just checked out another: the cities of Tucson and Flagstaff are suing the state of Arizona over SB 1070. And, interestingly, their reasons are not political, ethical, ideological, but imminently practical: the cost of local enforcement, and the loss of dollars from tourism. You can see the whole story here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/05/arizona-immigration-lawsu_n_563908.html
And as for me, I'm off to plant some more corn in my own little criminal sanctuary.
And it motivates my own little thought, since I first started hearing about Arizona. Before it comes here (and, Love willing, it won't), and before it tries to become the kind of fearmind and unconsciousness that threatens all people, and not just one race or background or nationality: let's all start carrying our passports with us wherever we go. And if we're stopped, for whatever violation or routine inquiry, let's demand that consistency is enforced. Let's make sure that our tax dollars, and our collective need for national security, and our paid law enforcement's time, is well and rightly spent. Let's make them check every one of our right to be here. Let's offer them the opportunity to prove, on each and every available occasion, that this is not "racial", not about a legal system somehow upheld by actions based on the outward appearances of people. And that our states' and country's laws are upheld on princicples more valid than contingency and suspicion. Let's remind them that, since a nation consists ultimately of its people, not of its statutes, which I understand are written for the people (if of and by are too much to ask), that action in the name of "national security" does, in fact, affect the nation. And that's us. Every one of us.
For a bit of relief to this story, I just checked out another: the cities of Tucson and Flagstaff are suing the state of Arizona over SB 1070. And, interestingly, their reasons are not political, ethical, ideological, but imminently practical: the cost of local enforcement, and the loss of dollars from tourism. You can see the whole story here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/05/arizona-immigration-lawsu_n_563908.html
And as for me, I'm off to plant some more corn in my own little criminal sanctuary.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
garden probably?
It's starting to look like a garden, anyway. Two box-greenhouses are repaired now (for photos, see www.veggiegrower.net). I transplanted more seedlings into the second one. Then started a circle for the "companions" - corn, beans and melons - in a spot where we may or may not have chopped the clay and rock into a fine enough consistency for planting. Half an hour before sundown, 3 kids materialized. One was the second-grader from last week. "Do you need help?" he asks. "Sure!" I tell him. He carries the watering can, and a 4-and-6-year-old brother and sister follow him. We bring water to all the new seedlings, and the transplants from last week (most of which have survived their minimal maintenance). Then I ask them, "Do you want to make lasagna compost?" They're up for anything. The friend who helped me work the ground there suggested this as a kid-friendly project. It's layers of organic and non-organic material (cardboard and newspaper, alternating with vegetable peels, leaves, straw), stacked and then watered down. The goal is quicker decomposition, and usability as compost or mulch. We'd probably have a lot better odds of achieving this goal if we'd done a more careful job of it. But the light is fading, the parents are getting ready to go, and the kids are alive and full of energy. So we careen around the place, carrying boxes and bunches of straw and cans of water, until we have something sort of resembling a pan of lasagna without the pan, and we're all splashed with water and dust and have straw in our hair. As the mothers start to call out, "!Ya vamos!", I exclaim (in Spanish, and hopefully loud enough for both the kids and their moms to hear), "I hope the parents aren't mad at us for getting dirty..." The kids all repeat their names for me, and I tell them, "Come back next Wednesday, if you want!". "Tomorrow?" asks the younger boy. Well, sure. I'll be here tomorrow too. And I'll welcome you, neighbor, if I see you, just like you all are welcoming me.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
garden potentially
The wind has hardly stopped blowing, the last two weeks. Maybe when I make it back to the garden plot, today or tomorrow, it will have been so kind as to just sweep away all that gritty, depleted clay and leave us a clean slate to start from. I did find some free topsoil on craigslist, but haven't had a moment to think about getting it yet. For now, I've added a few bags of compost and pre-packaged topsoil (isn't it weird, that you can buy dirt), built a two-sided compost bin, and set out some little plants that friends gave us. Along with a dozen jalapenos that I bought, so there would be something visible for the people who come there. Can't have too many jalapenos, surely. On my visits I carry gratitude for the help that's been offered so far. One good friend came with me to clear weeds and break ground. He brought his own shovel, an hour or two of hard work, and a blessing spoken over the space when we finished. Another brought tools and helped me repair the first of the little greenhouses, the essential first step to making this place habitable for young growing things.
Last Wednesday I had help from one of the kids -- hopefully the first of many. A second-grader, waiting for his mom to finish English class. Everybody said he had been nothing but trouble in the classroom, and I might find him hard to work with, but I thought he was great. He shoveled dirt, carried water, was polite and friendly, and made remarks that showed he was thinking for himself about the whole process. I told him, come back next week and help us again if you like. But the woman who lives and works at the center of this community told me, a few days later, that he came back the next day -- on his own -- and watered all our little transplants. That bit of information is probably the most encouraging thing I've heard in the last week.
Right now at home are some tiny sprouts, lamentably late, that will soon show themselves to be corn, chard, radishes, and others not yet identifiable. Two or three tomato plants are ready to move. More seeds just went in yesterday. Many gardeners recognize the planting of every seed as a prayer. With so many thoughts right now of frustration and unrecognized potential -- in me, in this world of struggle -- I wait for these specks of possibility to green into the visible answers of YES so much needed in this moment.
Last Wednesday I had help from one of the kids -- hopefully the first of many. A second-grader, waiting for his mom to finish English class. Everybody said he had been nothing but trouble in the classroom, and I might find him hard to work with, but I thought he was great. He shoveled dirt, carried water, was polite and friendly, and made remarks that showed he was thinking for himself about the whole process. I told him, come back next week and help us again if you like. But the woman who lives and works at the center of this community told me, a few days later, that he came back the next day -- on his own -- and watered all our little transplants. That bit of information is probably the most encouraging thing I've heard in the last week.
Right now at home are some tiny sprouts, lamentably late, that will soon show themselves to be corn, chard, radishes, and others not yet identifiable. Two or three tomato plants are ready to move. More seeds just went in yesterday. Many gardeners recognize the planting of every seed as a prayer. With so many thoughts right now of frustration and unrecognized potential -- in me, in this world of struggle -- I wait for these specks of possibility to green into the visible answers of YES so much needed in this moment.
Monday, May 10, 2010
the Distance
Here's the dream I woke up with this morning -- such a perfect representation of last night's inner state. One of my excellent companions in the lovely community where I live is getting married. They're full of joy, and I want to celebrate with them. I look for a suitable gift, and this is what I find: change for a $20. In that inexplicable ambivalence that comes with so many dreamstates, I shrug my shoulders and accept this as, apparently, the best I've got. It's only on waking that I groan with recognition. Yeah, this sounds like too much time in the pizza business. But it also sounds like too much time spent with ambivalence and shrugging of shoulders.
I was trying, last night, to answer that question again. The one about the Distance. Between here and there. What is and what could be. What we are and our achingly beautiful potential. And how we manage to live, in the meantime, with the disparity. Yeah, I know, it's dangerous territory. But impossible to avoid, sometimes. Even if I end up feeling like I have little more than pocket change to offer, to Life or to the question, when I try to meet the moment with my gifts...
I was trying, last night, to answer that question again. The one about the Distance. Between here and there. What is and what could be. What we are and our achingly beautiful potential. And how we manage to live, in the meantime, with the disparity. Yeah, I know, it's dangerous territory. But impossible to avoid, sometimes. Even if I end up feeling like I have little more than pocket change to offer, to Life or to the question, when I try to meet the moment with my gifts...
Thursday, April 22, 2010
garden maybe
The plot thickens. To be more accurate, it hardens, calcifies, solidifies completely. Given half a chance, or half a year. Anyone's who's ever worked a piece of land in the desert, especially a sometime-neglected one, knows what I'm talking about.
No one had started working this little plot of land yet, when I finally made it back here. It's just a solid sheet of clay holding a rock collection. Baked dry by another year of New Mexico sun, and hard freeze, and more sun. Mustard grows dense in the small sections that were cultivated last summer. Three short rows that held corn are now just-visible ridges. Two young trees seem to be holding their ground alright. The box gardens, overflowing last year with tomatoes, greens, and basil that I started and other volunteers nurtured, are empty and falling apart. Trash has drifted in from the street. Outside the low adobe wall, cars honk their horns and kids swerve by on bikes.
This place has been the gathering point of a true anarchist community, and a true spiritual work, for about 10 years now. I met its instigators 4 years ago: a woman of about 60 and a man of around 70, both devoted to lives of simplicity and service. They've treated me like family, even when I lose touch for months. Like this time. They always welcome me back, open-armed, when I come round. I want to start the garden for them. As well as for those who live here, and their kids. Much of the neighborhood's residents - and the focus of this outreach - are families of immigrants. Most from Mexico, a few from points further south. Largely without "legal status". Largely without the comforts taken for granted by most who live in this country, or in this town. The work of the community here is about connecting these families with the basics that they need to live and work and survive. Food and clothing (all donated), work opportunities, legal and medical advice, English classes. And - because it should be a right, not a luxury - fresh organic vegetables. If we're lucky. If we're blessed.
I'd rather do this the permaculture way. Careful, slow, planned. Build the soil over some time. Blanket this poor earth with mulches and compost. Introduce a colony of earthworms. But these kids need healthy food. And the instigators want to give them a chance to learn a few things about the life of the earth that breathes, just beneath their surrounding of concrete and asphalt. Their lives are even more transitional than mine. Who knows if they'll even live in this neighborhood next summer or not. Learning is now. Not to mention eating. Planting is now.
Except, it's raining now. And there were insatiable winds yesterday. And I have to work tomorrow. At two jobs. So far, my only work here has been clearing some weeds. I'm a little frustrated. It's a bit late in the spring to be starting a garden from the ground up (and down)...
Maybe I oughta ask for help with this project. Maybe I've taken on more than one person can do. We could surely open young minds to a wealth of beautiful knowledge, with a team of unofficial teachers. There are people all over who know so much more about gardening than I do. But here's the catch: the only guaranteed part of the project is the work. Not the when or how, and not the students. The kids will show up, if they do, while their parents are here for English class. Or when they pass by on foot, or on their bikes, and get curious. And unthinking neighbors, or those with even more struggle than the ones who participate here, might steal the vegetables, like they sometimes did last year. Who can I invite to participate in something this unpredictable?
Here's the offer: a lot of work. We provide all the materials. No guarantees of success. Anybody interested?
No one had started working this little plot of land yet, when I finally made it back here. It's just a solid sheet of clay holding a rock collection. Baked dry by another year of New Mexico sun, and hard freeze, and more sun. Mustard grows dense in the small sections that were cultivated last summer. Three short rows that held corn are now just-visible ridges. Two young trees seem to be holding their ground alright. The box gardens, overflowing last year with tomatoes, greens, and basil that I started and other volunteers nurtured, are empty and falling apart. Trash has drifted in from the street. Outside the low adobe wall, cars honk their horns and kids swerve by on bikes.
This place has been the gathering point of a true anarchist community, and a true spiritual work, for about 10 years now. I met its instigators 4 years ago: a woman of about 60 and a man of around 70, both devoted to lives of simplicity and service. They've treated me like family, even when I lose touch for months. Like this time. They always welcome me back, open-armed, when I come round. I want to start the garden for them. As well as for those who live here, and their kids. Much of the neighborhood's residents - and the focus of this outreach - are families of immigrants. Most from Mexico, a few from points further south. Largely without "legal status". Largely without the comforts taken for granted by most who live in this country, or in this town. The work of the community here is about connecting these families with the basics that they need to live and work and survive. Food and clothing (all donated), work opportunities, legal and medical advice, English classes. And - because it should be a right, not a luxury - fresh organic vegetables. If we're lucky. If we're blessed.
I'd rather do this the permaculture way. Careful, slow, planned. Build the soil over some time. Blanket this poor earth with mulches and compost. Introduce a colony of earthworms. But these kids need healthy food. And the instigators want to give them a chance to learn a few things about the life of the earth that breathes, just beneath their surrounding of concrete and asphalt. Their lives are even more transitional than mine. Who knows if they'll even live in this neighborhood next summer or not. Learning is now. Not to mention eating. Planting is now.
Except, it's raining now. And there were insatiable winds yesterday. And I have to work tomorrow. At two jobs. So far, my only work here has been clearing some weeds. I'm a little frustrated. It's a bit late in the spring to be starting a garden from the ground up (and down)...
Maybe I oughta ask for help with this project. Maybe I've taken on more than one person can do. We could surely open young minds to a wealth of beautiful knowledge, with a team of unofficial teachers. There are people all over who know so much more about gardening than I do. But here's the catch: the only guaranteed part of the project is the work. Not the when or how, and not the students. The kids will show up, if they do, while their parents are here for English class. Or when they pass by on foot, or on their bikes, and get curious. And unthinking neighbors, or those with even more struggle than the ones who participate here, might steal the vegetables, like they sometimes did last year. Who can I invite to participate in something this unpredictable?
Here's the offer: a lot of work. We provide all the materials. No guarantees of success. Anybody interested?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
uncloser
These are not my beautiful words, but the beauty that Life brought this morning. A foundpoem from today's reading in The Sufi Book of Life (Neil Douglas-Klotz).
sometimes fear induced
hurt in the past
causes part of us to close
a clenched fist
experienced "ourselves" "failing"
illnesses or intoxications
very dense boundaries
emotional-somatic scar tissue
every being
already contained
heart of the One Being
lift the veil
expand your boundaries again
be as porous as you need to be
for this moment of your life
this does not mean eliminating
we need enclosure and container
only the One expands and contracts you
no other source of need
or bounty
Uncloser
open from the inside
reverse the direction
of contraction and incubation
the same radiating, creating energy
gradually expands from a center
in all directions
unfold into a larger circle
rhythm of your heart returns
to that found
in the heart of the holy
ONE
sometimes fear induced
hurt in the past
causes part of us to close
a clenched fist
experienced "ourselves" "failing"
illnesses or intoxications
very dense boundaries
emotional-somatic scar tissue
every being
already contained
heart of the One Being
lift the veil
expand your boundaries again
be as porous as you need to be
for this moment of your life
this does not mean eliminating
we need enclosure and container
only the One expands and contracts you
no other source of need
or bounty
Uncloser
open from the inside
reverse the direction
of contraction and incubation
the same radiating, creating energy
gradually expands from a center
in all directions
unfold into a larger circle
rhythm of your heart returns
to that found
in the heart of the holy
ONE
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