in this video i only see a handful of whites who are not police (in this particular case the police involved with Troy Davis have been accused of coercion to reach the verdict against Troy that's now nearly had him executed THREE times!...
"...I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
...
We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.
...
I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle--have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as "dirty nigger-lovers." Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful "action" antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions.
...
But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church."
-Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr, "Letter from Birmingham Jail"
...and people wonder why i am so disillusioned with the church and can no longer stand to attend most churches. there is so much jovial worship and so little gritty action. where there is gritty action i am unable to be involved and thus i only witness the hollow-seeming worship. it is too hard. were i to ever find a church CENTERED on SERVICE to GOD AND MAN... well, i would be there. but i seek the kind of church that consists of several people committed to various types of service and love for Adonai and fellow man. so, with this i offer up my reasons for stepping out of the common visions of "church" among most people i know.
i also ask that any others who are disillusioned with church the way it's so commonly done, and seek something different, even if it doesn't turn out to be "better", then i would love community with you and the chance to discuss and eat with you and do whatever we feel should be done. let us serve our God and one another.
Peace.
Salaams.
Shalom.
Friede.
Pace.
Pax.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
identity in you?
they say i've got identity in you Jeshua, but they also say you don't love gay folks or black folks or Iraqi folks, that's why i don't think i want THAT identity, i know your justice is different from that of those that claim your name, but i can't handle it, i'm lost, unable to find just you, just you, simply you, where the hell are ya, i'm reaching out in every direction, to my friends, to my causes, joined NAACP SPUSA and one too many churches looking for me, not you just me, i got it wrong, and now i can't get it right.
how can you be so close and so far, how can i climb the highest mountain and somehow miss you, how can i seek justice the way i think you like it and never meet you in the streets, how can i be raised in the church only to founder at the age of 20, how can the church raise me and push me out of the nest, i don't really want church, i want community, i guess i was raised by one that has now morphed into counterfeit, counterfeit cash burns a different color, smoke traces give it away, put it to the test and it fails, see me hurting, no you don't, you're not looking, you're the counterfeit.
i can't find my identity anymore, i don't know where to start, i'm lost in a foreign state, a fresh foreign state of mind, i don't want a lot of readers i want the right ones, i want those i can read with weep with write with smoke cigars and drink with, all that in fellowship with the Rabbi, where did the Rabbi go that no one can show me what he looks like anymore?
a sip of peach tea i find refreshing, i watched a confusing movie today, wish i were home, wish i were at bcc even though i know i've outgrown it their too, not all change is bad but all change hurts sure as hell, i hate this limbo this extraordinary maze, where are you taking me you devilish white rabbit, you're such a pain to me right now, i really am in pain, can't you tell, stop running me in circles and stop for a second won't you, i need peace, i need restoration, i need community, i need identity.
but identity's gone, jumped the gun as i jumped off the wagon, joined a new caravan called college again, they say it'll make me smarter, what if cigars i've never tried are all that i want, what do you say to that you pristine white-washed vanities of vacancy of vision, invest in someone won't you, invest in a man in need of a heart transplant and stop shoving me those bandaids damnit!
God, sweet sweet God, i want what you give, what you have given, what you always give me, i guess i lost it somewhere along the way, did i deny it or have it robbed from me, only a few remotely understand me and that number diminishes, i know i'm not alone but i see so few who are fighting for what i'm fighting for, i'll continue to pray with her, it's been a while since that act, i miss our prayers every night, her sweet soft voice saying amen and good night, i miss knowing she was with me on it, but i stopped praying with her each night and i blame me alone, i am the cause of my problems, i want to come back, but i don't even know which way to go!
i had another chance to find communion tonight, but like so many beyond the walls of the "church" i refused the chance, gave myself an excuse, i've been hurt so many times as i've sought companionship in you Rabbi, don't make me try it again in the wrong place, i'll join the ranks of the gas station guy, he with his beautiful broken eyes, he and i the same are crippled and killed by the christian church, i find more peace with him than i have in a "church building" in a year or so now.
i don't know what i did but i have become your judas.
how can you be so close and so far, how can i climb the highest mountain and somehow miss you, how can i seek justice the way i think you like it and never meet you in the streets, how can i be raised in the church only to founder at the age of 20, how can the church raise me and push me out of the nest, i don't really want church, i want community, i guess i was raised by one that has now morphed into counterfeit, counterfeit cash burns a different color, smoke traces give it away, put it to the test and it fails, see me hurting, no you don't, you're not looking, you're the counterfeit.
i can't find my identity anymore, i don't know where to start, i'm lost in a foreign state, a fresh foreign state of mind, i don't want a lot of readers i want the right ones, i want those i can read with weep with write with smoke cigars and drink with, all that in fellowship with the Rabbi, where did the Rabbi go that no one can show me what he looks like anymore?
a sip of peach tea i find refreshing, i watched a confusing movie today, wish i were home, wish i were at bcc even though i know i've outgrown it their too, not all change is bad but all change hurts sure as hell, i hate this limbo this extraordinary maze, where are you taking me you devilish white rabbit, you're such a pain to me right now, i really am in pain, can't you tell, stop running me in circles and stop for a second won't you, i need peace, i need restoration, i need community, i need identity.
but identity's gone, jumped the gun as i jumped off the wagon, joined a new caravan called college again, they say it'll make me smarter, what if cigars i've never tried are all that i want, what do you say to that you pristine white-washed vanities of vacancy of vision, invest in someone won't you, invest in a man in need of a heart transplant and stop shoving me those bandaids damnit!
God, sweet sweet God, i want what you give, what you have given, what you always give me, i guess i lost it somewhere along the way, did i deny it or have it robbed from me, only a few remotely understand me and that number diminishes, i know i'm not alone but i see so few who are fighting for what i'm fighting for, i'll continue to pray with her, it's been a while since that act, i miss our prayers every night, her sweet soft voice saying amen and good night, i miss knowing she was with me on it, but i stopped praying with her each night and i blame me alone, i am the cause of my problems, i want to come back, but i don't even know which way to go!
i had another chance to find communion tonight, but like so many beyond the walls of the "church" i refused the chance, gave myself an excuse, i've been hurt so many times as i've sought companionship in you Rabbi, don't make me try it again in the wrong place, i'll join the ranks of the gas station guy, he with his beautiful broken eyes, he and i the same are crippled and killed by the christian church, i find more peace with him than i have in a "church building" in a year or so now.
i don't know what i did but i have become your judas.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Nudes. Beauty. Truth.
last month i was on a walk with my girlfriend, Ashley, and we spent the afternoon meeting her father and getting her registered to vote. equally important as the rest is the fact that she and i walked into a local art gallery on Main and surveyed everything in the shop, from the glass ornaments to the wood furniture to the knit scarves and gloves, to the photographs to the paintings of nude women toward the back of the shop.
it was in this back corridor that she and i viewed some of the most beautiful nudes i've every seen! these women were by no means the norm of the modern playgirl. these women were not huge, but they were also not radically thin. though i can't find this individual artist's work, these following paintings are similar to the styles of the paintings in the gallery, except that those in the gallery were more impressionistic.
somewhere along the way men lost their concept of true beauty and fell for a forfeit and now are more pleased by a frail, thin body with little brains beneath glossy hair and plastic "improvements".
what happened to the love of the kind of woman who'd been made of more than a body? what happened to the truth of a beautiful woman who had more to her than a petite frame that's more "aesthetically pleasing"?
a more matronly look was once considered true beauty, not more than 100 years ago!
it seems to me that in the days of such an image of beauty, women were more concerned with other aspects of their lives. now men enforce this image of objectification where all women have to do is look good.
we men become men when we objectify a woman by forcing her to become less than the complex, multi-dimensional daughter of someone that she is.
it's interesting that to be beautiful you have to be thin, and to be thin you have to buy into the lie that you can't possibly be good enough, beautiful enough, or absolutely incredible enough, in any other way. by forcing the obsession with image, men continue to belittle every other aspect of a woman.
it's so wrong.
the truth is that beauty really has nothing to do with what you look like, although you can certainly look beautiful (as Ashley does)!
in reality beauty is in who a person is, how complex they are, what they live for, breathe in, fight for, care for, worry about, struggle with, burn for and think about... Ashley is so beautiful in every way, and i find it a lot healthier to be obsessed with her in all these other ways than to be obsessed with maintaining her in a certain image. she's NO object! and thankfully she'd never let me forget that! :)
...
and now, in the words of Orwell, witness another declaration of true Beauty:
"Tirelessly the woman marched to and fro, corking and uncorking herself, singing and falling silent, and pegging out more diapers, and more and yet more. He wondered whether she took in washing for a living or was merely the slave of twenty or thirty grandchildren. Julia had come across to his side; together they gazed down with a sort of fascination at the sturdy figure below. As he looked at the woman in her characteristic attitude, her thick arms reaching up for the line, her powerful mare-like buttocks protruded, it struck him for the first time that she was beautiful. It had never before occurred to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, then hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an over-ripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?
'She's beautiful,' he murmured.
'She's a metre across the hips, easily,' said Julia.
'That is her style of beauty,' said Winston."
on behalf of myself, Winston, Orwell, and the men and women that think, i say ALL WOMEN are beautiful. don't change. :)
it was in this back corridor that she and i viewed some of the most beautiful nudes i've every seen! these women were by no means the norm of the modern playgirl. these women were not huge, but they were also not radically thin. though i can't find this individual artist's work, these following paintings are similar to the styles of the paintings in the gallery, except that those in the gallery were more impressionistic.
somewhere along the way men lost their concept of true beauty and fell for a forfeit and now are more pleased by a frail, thin body with little brains beneath glossy hair and plastic "improvements".
what happened to the love of the kind of woman who'd been made of more than a body? what happened to the truth of a beautiful woman who had more to her than a petite frame that's more "aesthetically pleasing"?
a more matronly look was once considered true beauty, not more than 100 years ago!
it seems to me that in the days of such an image of beauty, women were more concerned with other aspects of their lives. now men enforce this image of objectification where all women have to do is look good.
we men become men when we objectify a woman by forcing her to become less than the complex, multi-dimensional daughter of someone that she is.
it's interesting that to be beautiful you have to be thin, and to be thin you have to buy into the lie that you can't possibly be good enough, beautiful enough, or absolutely incredible enough, in any other way. by forcing the obsession with image, men continue to belittle every other aspect of a woman.
it's so wrong.
the truth is that beauty really has nothing to do with what you look like, although you can certainly look beautiful (as Ashley does)!
in reality beauty is in who a person is, how complex they are, what they live for, breathe in, fight for, care for, worry about, struggle with, burn for and think about... Ashley is so beautiful in every way, and i find it a lot healthier to be obsessed with her in all these other ways than to be obsessed with maintaining her in a certain image. she's NO object! and thankfully she'd never let me forget that! :)
...
and now, in the words of Orwell, witness another declaration of true Beauty:
"Tirelessly the woman marched to and fro, corking and uncorking herself, singing and falling silent, and pegging out more diapers, and more and yet more. He wondered whether she took in washing for a living or was merely the slave of twenty or thirty grandchildren. Julia had come across to his side; together they gazed down with a sort of fascination at the sturdy figure below. As he looked at the woman in her characteristic attitude, her thick arms reaching up for the line, her powerful mare-like buttocks protruded, it struck him for the first time that she was beautiful. It had never before occurred to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, then hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an over-ripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?
'She's beautiful,' he murmured.
'She's a metre across the hips, easily,' said Julia.
'That is her style of beauty,' said Winston."
on behalf of myself, Winston, Orwell, and the men and women that think, i say ALL WOMEN are beautiful. don't change. :)
It's a new world - it's a new start
Here I am - this is me
There's no where else on earth I'd rather be
Here I am - it's just me and you
And tonight we make our dreams come true
It's a new world - it's a new start
It's alive with the beating of young hearts
It's a new day - it's a new plan
I've been waiting for you
Here I am
Here we are - we've just begun
And after all this time - our time has come
Ya here we are - still goin' strong
Right here in the place where we belong
Here I am - this is me
There's no where else on earth I'd rather be
Here I am - it's just me and you
And tonight we make our dreams come true
Here I am - next to you
And suddenly the world is all brand new
Here I am - where I'm gonna stay
Now there's nothin standin in our way
Here I am - this is me
... I stated a new life last month. Now I'm no longer living with my partens and all my friends and I don't live in the place where I have spend all my life... It's strange because it's a new life.
Everything is new, everything is unknown for me and I need to make my way on my own.
I moved out becuase I started my studies at the University of Applied Sciences in Worms.
Now I'm studiing Tourism.
It's a new world for me. I need to deal with everything on my own and that's not always that easy
...BUT...
I like it this way!
I love to wake up alone in the morning and there's no one I need to share the bathroom with.
I can leave my flat whenever I want to and there's no one I need to tell where I'm going to.
I can watch on TV whatever I want to see.
I live my own life!
And even if I think I'm alone in this strange city, I know that I'm not!
God is with me. He helps me, he supports me, he leads me and he guides me!
I hope God blesses you as much as he blesses me at the moment!
Love
-Krissi
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Freedom of Speech... French Style!
when upset about a government policy or action there is but one thing to do to voice your anger:
burn a car.
-/-/---
France, though they are often insulted in ways that would make any national of any such country bristle and buckle, is seemingly a more impressively democratic nation than the United States, or Great Britain.
the French seem to take to the streets at the slightest hint of unfairness within government policies.
but then, who says there's anything slight about racism, unemployment, homelessness, and ghetto-style poverty?
i know why they did it then in 2005.
i know why they continue to fight back.
i know that they are not alone in their anger.
burn a car.
-/-/---
France, though they are often insulted in ways that would make any national of any such country bristle and buckle, is seemingly a more impressively democratic nation than the United States, or Great Britain.
the French seem to take to the streets at the slightest hint of unfairness within government policies.
but then, who says there's anything slight about racism, unemployment, homelessness, and ghetto-style poverty?
i know why they did it then in 2005.
i know why they continue to fight back.
i know that they are not alone in their anger.
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