I've been in an interesting place lately. Like the kind of interesting that spawns from possibilities that seem to stretch beyond one's wildest dreams!
I have a number of possible courses of action to pursue this year.
1. Go to Perth, Australia and work and study at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) base there for about two years, taking part in a Basic Leadership School and possibly going on outreaches and being a part of ministry within the base's leadership and Christ-centered agenda.
2. Go to Purdue University and carry on my studies as a Political Studies major with minors in German and in Religious Studies.
or...
3. Stay in Lafayette, not necessarily attending Purdue, while working and move into a low-cost apartment in a nearby neighborhood that struggles with poverty and crime, and hang out with kids in the neighborhood, potentially opening doors for a fellowship and community Bible study with people of all ages, and attach the ministry to my church here in Lafayette.
4. Study at Purdue for the fall and spring semesters, save up money to go to Perth to work on staff for the summer next year, and learn the ropes of the base, and consider the BLS (Basic Leadership School) after finishing up my degree.
5. Regardless of where I go, I'll also have the capacity to continue working for the Not For Sale Campaign [to combat human trafficking], since I'm the Deputy State Director here in Indiana, and NFSC will be hosting a seminar at the Perth base later this month, and thus might end up more heavily involved with ministry and practical outreach at the Perth base, or in Australia in general.
The thing is, if I take on either of the first two options, it's possible the opposite will follow in due time, shortly after whichever I do first. And the third and fourth ideas could both also work with the second plan, of attending classes.
I have a lot of my personal demons to fight off before I can be relatively comfortable with jumping into any more involved ministry of any kind. I intend to spend much of my summer walking with The Rabbi and intensely delving into God's word, attempting to fight off some of my deepest rooted sins and learning to act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God, my beautiful Adonai.
Friends, family, and loved ones, I pray for your guidance, prayers, thoughts, encouragement, advice, and suggestions as I try to seek out what is best and right for my next step in life.
Shalom.
Showing posts with label fight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fight. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Sunday, September 21, 2008
must be that the world's gone lame.
i found this horrifying article last night after reading 90+ pages from a book i had to read for history class (which ironically ties in because the last two chapters of this book detail the 1899 Newsies strike in New York City, and several subsequent strikes shortly after the turn of the century).
this article, found on my Yahoo! browser as i went to check my e-mail last night right after grabbing some dinner and returning to my room, lit a fire in my idling heart.
i am reading a powerful book written by the honored Dr. King, Why We Can't Wait, in 1963. it has touched something in my warring, violent heart that i thought i had dealt with and reasoned away.
i thought i'd finally come to grips with a philosophy called "Christian Realism", which entails a desire for peace via peaceful methods, but a realisation that there are certain situations in this world, ALL (in my belief) affecting civilian casualties and the defense thereof. it is the belief that Dietrich Bonhoeffer acted justly in his reaction to Hitler's war on the Jews and half the modern world over 60 years ago. Bonhoeffer, a German minister, was in league with a group intent on assassinating the Fuehrer. and on numerous occasions they very nearly did. and as a result many of them, brother Dietrich included, were executed within a narrow margin of War's End in Europe.
so that's where i think i normally am. i spend my time reading the writings of men like Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Reinhold Niebuhr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and (most painfully and obviously) my dear brother Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the one i feel closest to as i read his words or hear his voice.
and, like i said, it is painful to read Martin's words on peace and nonviolent resistance.
it is hard to feel so strongly against oppression and know that there are situations in which i would take up arms to defend the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and frankly any kid who needed help and couldn't get it any other way.
but then, there are situations where nonviolence works to get the point across, if not to completely begin a surge in liberation... though in the case of the US Civil Rights Movement it is often a longer, slower battle to continue to suffer for.
i found a video today that changed my perspective on other social struggles and movements around the world in which nonviolence is used and definitely gets the point across.
EZLN supporters (i.e. the People) storm a military outpost, unarmed. i'm not sure what's going on or what their intent is as they storm in, but it's the coolest thing ever to watch them break the barbed wire fence and march right up into the outpost, forcing the ARMED soldiers back against the walls of the central building.
just watch. there's hope in nonviolence that i didn't know existed beyond these borders.
blows me away!
this article, found on my Yahoo! browser as i went to check my e-mail last night right after grabbing some dinner and returning to my room, lit a fire in my idling heart.
i am reading a powerful book written by the honored Dr. King, Why We Can't Wait, in 1963. it has touched something in my warring, violent heart that i thought i had dealt with and reasoned away.
i thought i'd finally come to grips with a philosophy called "Christian Realism", which entails a desire for peace via peaceful methods, but a realisation that there are certain situations in this world, ALL (in my belief) affecting civilian casualties and the defense thereof. it is the belief that Dietrich Bonhoeffer acted justly in his reaction to Hitler's war on the Jews and half the modern world over 60 years ago. Bonhoeffer, a German minister, was in league with a group intent on assassinating the Fuehrer. and on numerous occasions they very nearly did. and as a result many of them, brother Dietrich included, were executed within a narrow margin of War's End in Europe.
so that's where i think i normally am. i spend my time reading the writings of men like Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Reinhold Niebuhr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and (most painfully and obviously) my dear brother Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the one i feel closest to as i read his words or hear his voice.
and, like i said, it is painful to read Martin's words on peace and nonviolent resistance.
it is hard to feel so strongly against oppression and know that there are situations in which i would take up arms to defend the weak, the poor, the oppressed, and frankly any kid who needed help and couldn't get it any other way.
but then, there are situations where nonviolence works to get the point across, if not to completely begin a surge in liberation... though in the case of the US Civil Rights Movement it is often a longer, slower battle to continue to suffer for.
i found a video today that changed my perspective on other social struggles and movements around the world in which nonviolence is used and definitely gets the point across.
EZLN supporters (i.e. the People) storm a military outpost, unarmed. i'm not sure what's going on or what their intent is as they storm in, but it's the coolest thing ever to watch them break the barbed wire fence and march right up into the outpost, forcing the ARMED soldiers back against the walls of the central building.
just watch. there's hope in nonviolence that i didn't know existed beyond these borders.
blows me away!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Loophole Legislation (that makes me want to use strong language)
I was reading about something last night that successfully pissed me off and nearly sent me into an outrage!
the downside of this well-meaning outrage was that there's really no longer anyone alive responsible for it and it's results that i could do any damage to.
so i let the initial reactionary feelings rest.
but the idea started working on me and i started writing something down last night...
first, here's what i was reading about. maybe for some of my readers this is a familiar old term:
The Pupil Placement Law.
1954--Brown v. Board of Education--Segregation outlawed because nothing can ever really be "separate but equal."
here's what the famed brother, Dr. King, had to say about it,
"There was another factor in the slow pace of progress, a factor of which few are aware and even fewer understand. It is an unadvertised fact that soon after the 1954 decision the Supreme Court retreated from its own position by giving approval to the Pupil Placement Law. This law permitted the states themselves to determine where school children might be placed by virtue of family background, special ability and other subjective criteria. The Pupil Placement Law was almost as far-reaching in modifying and limiting the integration of schools as the original decision had been in attempting to eliminate segregation. Without technically reversing itself, the Court had granted legal sanction to tokenism and thereby guaranteed that segregation, in substance, would last for an indefinite period, though formally it was illegal."
---Martin Luther King, Jr., Why We Can't Wait
this is the part of the book at which i immediately yelled out my favourite expletive... probably more than once. it's a good thing i was in a pretty much empty campus parking lot (although ironically 10 minutes beforehand a campus police cruiser had driven up behind me, probably smelling for pot smoke, since i generally dress the perfect part of the druggie hippie).
i think i stood up and threw my hands in the air in exasperation and swore some more, beginning to pace, FURIOUS.
sadly of course, i can't REALLY blame all whites for that. as much as i wanted so badly to do so. at that moment i know i would have offered some very choice words to those Supreme Court Justices if they had somehow shown their face on my campus. and i probably would have been so vocal that that squad car that sniffed me would be back in a flash to lock me up for "disturbing the peace".
and to think that allowing segregation to continue, when they did, wasn't an act of gregariously disturbing the peace!
finally realizing there was nothing i could do to change the past, i pulled out a notebook from my satchel on the curb, took a swig from my water bottle and pulled my pen out of my pocket, leaning against a small tree to begin writing something i'm surprised i can still read, for my hands were shaking with anger as the ink flowed...
"Loophole Legislation--9.8.08
Words like 'as best seen fit' are Bull. if the president/congress/or powers that be promise financial aif to a region or country in need of reconstructionary funding, then nowhere in the written promisory note can ambiguous wording, such as that often used for the betterment of the U.S. Constitution, be applied. If it is, there is a negative legislative loophole.
If not, there is a good loophole in the system based on greed, and said moneys may actually make it into greater manifestation among the people for whom it is intended."
as i finished writing last night, i recalled to memory a scene from the film Amazing Grace, in which the abolitionists in the British Parliament drafted a simple law that endangered British sailing vessels as they tried to hide under the neutral flag of the colonies, as those particular vessels carried slaves from Africa to the Isles. if suddenly all ships in those waters bearing the flag of the colonies could become fair game, then the slave trade would be greatly hindered for too many sailors and captains would be too afraid to make that journey knowing they were suddenly viable targets for enemy warships.
if there can be a good piece of loophole legislation like that, then there's certainly something that can be done today to look out for the interests of the masses and the oppressed. the problem is that today there's probably some way to pay closer attention and with a federal system in place, relying also on the permissions of a presidential and executive voice, then it's a lot harder to pass legislation so quickly that could truly benefit those already downtrodden by the law.
anyone have any ideas on this? what if i could actually get my readership to come forward and comment in larger numbers and assist me in the struggle to find a way to pass a protectorate law WITHOUT ambiguous wording...
will anyone please help me?
my father said something in church last week about how so many church-goers complain about change in the church and want things to be done the same old way. he then said that so many get so frustrated and upset about change occurring within a church body, and said that he holds out on giving this response one-on-one, but went ahead and said to the larger group:
"if you're going to get upset about something, let's get upset about AIDS in Africa, starving children or the situation in Darfur. Let's make it about something that matters for crying out loud!"
on that note, i ask you:
will you stand up and not get pissed about the words i use to describe things that i hate, to describe injustice that is unfit for human witness! these stronger words should mean nothing to you in comparison with the greater evils i'm telling you about!
stand against racism
stand against hate
stand against poverty
stand against slavery
stand against apartheid
stand against injustice!
i wish the unrest of God's spirit to be upon you until you take action.
may peace flee from your heart until peace and rest are gained for the world.
--BENEDICTION--
the downside of this well-meaning outrage was that there's really no longer anyone alive responsible for it and it's results that i could do any damage to.
so i let the initial reactionary feelings rest.
but the idea started working on me and i started writing something down last night...
first, here's what i was reading about. maybe for some of my readers this is a familiar old term:
The Pupil Placement Law.
1954--Brown v. Board of Education--Segregation outlawed because nothing can ever really be "separate but equal."
here's what the famed brother, Dr. King, had to say about it,
"There was another factor in the slow pace of progress, a factor of which few are aware and even fewer understand. It is an unadvertised fact that soon after the 1954 decision the Supreme Court retreated from its own position by giving approval to the Pupil Placement Law. This law permitted the states themselves to determine where school children might be placed by virtue of family background, special ability and other subjective criteria. The Pupil Placement Law was almost as far-reaching in modifying and limiting the integration of schools as the original decision had been in attempting to eliminate segregation. Without technically reversing itself, the Court had granted legal sanction to tokenism and thereby guaranteed that segregation, in substance, would last for an indefinite period, though formally it was illegal."
---Martin Luther King, Jr., Why We Can't Wait
this is the part of the book at which i immediately yelled out my favourite expletive... probably more than once. it's a good thing i was in a pretty much empty campus parking lot (although ironically 10 minutes beforehand a campus police cruiser had driven up behind me, probably smelling for pot smoke, since i generally dress the perfect part of the druggie hippie).
i think i stood up and threw my hands in the air in exasperation and swore some more, beginning to pace, FURIOUS.
sadly of course, i can't REALLY blame all whites for that. as much as i wanted so badly to do so. at that moment i know i would have offered some very choice words to those Supreme Court Justices if they had somehow shown their face on my campus. and i probably would have been so vocal that that squad car that sniffed me would be back in a flash to lock me up for "disturbing the peace".
and to think that allowing segregation to continue, when they did, wasn't an act of gregariously disturbing the peace!
finally realizing there was nothing i could do to change the past, i pulled out a notebook from my satchel on the curb, took a swig from my water bottle and pulled my pen out of my pocket, leaning against a small tree to begin writing something i'm surprised i can still read, for my hands were shaking with anger as the ink flowed...
"Loophole Legislation--9.8.08
Words like 'as best seen fit' are Bull. if the president/congress/or powers that be promise financial aif to a region or country in need of reconstructionary funding, then nowhere in the written promisory note can ambiguous wording, such as that often used for the betterment of the U.S. Constitution, be applied. If it is, there is a negative legislative loophole.
If not, there is a good loophole in the system based on greed, and said moneys may actually make it into greater manifestation among the people for whom it is intended."
as i finished writing last night, i recalled to memory a scene from the film Amazing Grace, in which the abolitionists in the British Parliament drafted a simple law that endangered British sailing vessels as they tried to hide under the neutral flag of the colonies, as those particular vessels carried slaves from Africa to the Isles. if suddenly all ships in those waters bearing the flag of the colonies could become fair game, then the slave trade would be greatly hindered for too many sailors and captains would be too afraid to make that journey knowing they were suddenly viable targets for enemy warships.
if there can be a good piece of loophole legislation like that, then there's certainly something that can be done today to look out for the interests of the masses and the oppressed. the problem is that today there's probably some way to pay closer attention and with a federal system in place, relying also on the permissions of a presidential and executive voice, then it's a lot harder to pass legislation so quickly that could truly benefit those already downtrodden by the law.
anyone have any ideas on this? what if i could actually get my readership to come forward and comment in larger numbers and assist me in the struggle to find a way to pass a protectorate law WITHOUT ambiguous wording...
will anyone please help me?
my father said something in church last week about how so many church-goers complain about change in the church and want things to be done the same old way. he then said that so many get so frustrated and upset about change occurring within a church body, and said that he holds out on giving this response one-on-one, but went ahead and said to the larger group:
"if you're going to get upset about something, let's get upset about AIDS in Africa, starving children or the situation in Darfur. Let's make it about something that matters for crying out loud!"
on that note, i ask you:
will you stand up and not get pissed about the words i use to describe things that i hate, to describe injustice that is unfit for human witness! these stronger words should mean nothing to you in comparison with the greater evils i'm telling you about!
stand against racism
stand against hate
stand against poverty
stand against slavery
stand against apartheid
stand against injustice!
i wish the unrest of God's spirit to be upon you until you take action.
may peace flee from your heart until peace and rest are gained for the world.
--BENEDICTION--
Sunday, September 7, 2008
i lose
one of my favourite games of all time is Risk.
i think i have this vague sense that at some point in history i won that game once.
but as a general rule, i know i always lose.
and yet it is still among my favourites.
while sitting here before church, reading about suffering for the Name (a Name i believe is also so often attributed to true justice and righteous acts for the sake of the people) from the sermon on the mount, and listening to Coldplay's Viva la Vida, it occurred to me exactly why i love that game so much!
i love fighting hard--to the last man--until my imminent defeat against an enemy so big that i know they'll crush me, but until that moment, until that day, I'LL GIVE 'EM HELL!
in that sense it feels like reality, the way i expect my life to play out if God puts me where i think he'll put me--
before an unjust enemy.
write your letters
grit your teeth
say your prayers
lock and load.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
routinized, scrutinized, mutinized
two of the title words are not recognized by the google dictionary spellings. they're not usually turned into verbs in this way, they are meant to be nouns and things that just happen without any intent. overtly.
however, i feel like college has begun to routinize me, which is not exactly what i would desire for myself, or for anyone i care about. it strips away my ability to frequently make random calls and break from the "normal". classes are great, as i've already said, but i feel mildly constrained by the routine that these classes are pushing on me.
it makes sense to me then that i scrutinize the system that does this to me. after all, are we not taught to think for ourselves in school? ;) i'm not trying to write this in an annoying way, or a rebellious manner. i say this pretty light-heartedly, but i like to examine the vague irony of it. i am routinized by things that i love, and by someone i love, whose voice every night is so calming and intoxicating that it soothes my mind and body to sleep, even if my heart denies me sleep by pounding fiercely inside my tossing and turning body, until i wrap my arms around my pillow and "pretend i am kissin the lips that i am missin".
that's the kind of routine i used to hate about having a girlfriend, but things have changed since that sort of routine came after getting to know her so much better on a friendship level for nearly two months, spending at least an hour or two in conversation with her nearly every single day, face to face, shopping with her for foods both of us can eat, sodas she'll make me finish after her first sip, and tiny pieces of manufactured and discovered oddities in jewelry stores that accentuate beautiful characteristics of her or of any other soul that dons them.
the routine of her voice every night these past two weeks has been really helpful for me. and really enlightening, as well.
so, due to the scrutiny
i've placed on the layers of routine
that affect my every day's and "some day's"
i have determined that i will break away from all of the unhealthy routines
and focus only on the healthy ones, allowing the rest to fit in place
and my branching out--i'll call it mutiny--
will allow me to make some changes
in the way this world views justice.
i declare mutiny against the harmful status quo.
i may only have a semester here at this particular institution, which means i've got a few months to make a mark and make sure as many in the region as possible, are aware of injustice on a global scale, and have begun to find methods of fighting back.
routine scrutinized produces mutiny.
i like it this way ;)
however, i feel like college has begun to routinize me, which is not exactly what i would desire for myself, or for anyone i care about. it strips away my ability to frequently make random calls and break from the "normal". classes are great, as i've already said, but i feel mildly constrained by the routine that these classes are pushing on me.
it makes sense to me then that i scrutinize the system that does this to me. after all, are we not taught to think for ourselves in school? ;) i'm not trying to write this in an annoying way, or a rebellious manner. i say this pretty light-heartedly, but i like to examine the vague irony of it. i am routinized by things that i love, and by someone i love, whose voice every night is so calming and intoxicating that it soothes my mind and body to sleep, even if my heart denies me sleep by pounding fiercely inside my tossing and turning body, until i wrap my arms around my pillow and "pretend i am kissin the lips that i am missin".
that's the kind of routine i used to hate about having a girlfriend, but things have changed since that sort of routine came after getting to know her so much better on a friendship level for nearly two months, spending at least an hour or two in conversation with her nearly every single day, face to face, shopping with her for foods both of us can eat, sodas she'll make me finish after her first sip, and tiny pieces of manufactured and discovered oddities in jewelry stores that accentuate beautiful characteristics of her or of any other soul that dons them.
the routine of her voice every night these past two weeks has been really helpful for me. and really enlightening, as well.
so, due to the scrutiny
i've placed on the layers of routine
that affect my every day's and "some day's"
i have determined that i will break away from all of the unhealthy routines
and focus only on the healthy ones, allowing the rest to fit in place
and my branching out--i'll call it mutiny--
will allow me to make some changes
in the way this world views justice.
i declare mutiny against the harmful status quo.
i may only have a semester here at this particular institution, which means i've got a few months to make a mark and make sure as many in the region as possible, are aware of injustice on a global scale, and have begun to find methods of fighting back.
routine scrutinized produces mutiny.
i like it this way ;)
Thursday, July 24, 2008
a journey renewed... again.
if anyone reading this has known me well for over a year you'll definitely recognize these sentiments, especially if i knew you at the end of my spring semester at Lakeland. and there may be a few of you who recognize these exact thoughts if i spoke with you about this in Africa.
i wrote this a week ago in an attempt to understand myself and get some things out on paper. it was unfinished, but maybe i'll like it better this way.
--
my mind is racing. the Jesus of Peace. the God of Justice--would they think this right?
a monster taking on the bigger monster.
theoretically, in being armed, i can kill.
i can take life. not yet, for i am thus far unarmed,
but in the future. three, four, maybe five years, and i'll have the capacity.
but can i pull the trigger?
what hat will i wear?
will i be undercover?
will i be a badge?
or don a suit?
what about combat boots, camo, and a bandana?
will i go guerilla to "seek justice"?
will i be seen as a terrorist, murderer, snake?
or will i even ever really take a life?
in defending the poor and oppressed, will the Prince of Peace fade to the background?
will his call be lost in gunfire?
will i ignore his will?
if no one is to perish, perhaps i can help, and simply aim low-- just high and hard enough to bring them down so they cannot rise again.
can i shatter your bones in your legs and kick your face into the mud and know that you'll walk away from your crime?
--
tell me what you all think, please. every time i think this way i find something that swings me back to the other extreme end of the pendulum and i loathe any hint of violence.
and then again i see violence succeed in releasing captives of cruelty.
and then i remember there's no such thing as redemptive violence.
and then i think to myself, "is rescuing violence the same as redemptive violence?"
war is not the answer. invasion is wrong. occupation is wrong. but what about insurrection? what about violent uprising within a country in order to gain liberation?
i am stuck. i could go for a coffee date or a phone call with anyone interested in talking about this stuff.
peace.
amani.
veritas.
i wrote this a week ago in an attempt to understand myself and get some things out on paper. it was unfinished, but maybe i'll like it better this way.
--
my mind is racing. the Jesus of Peace. the God of Justice--would they think this right?
a monster taking on the bigger monster.
theoretically, in being armed, i can kill.
i can take life. not yet, for i am thus far unarmed,
but in the future. three, four, maybe five years, and i'll have the capacity.
but can i pull the trigger?
what hat will i wear?
will i be undercover?
will i be a badge?
or don a suit?
what about combat boots, camo, and a bandana?
will i go guerilla to "seek justice"?
will i be seen as a terrorist, murderer, snake?
or will i even ever really take a life?
in defending the poor and oppressed, will the Prince of Peace fade to the background?
will his call be lost in gunfire?
will i ignore his will?
if no one is to perish, perhaps i can help, and simply aim low-- just high and hard enough to bring them down so they cannot rise again.
can i shatter your bones in your legs and kick your face into the mud and know that you'll walk away from your crime?
--
tell me what you all think, please. every time i think this way i find something that swings me back to the other extreme end of the pendulum and i loathe any hint of violence.
and then again i see violence succeed in releasing captives of cruelty.
and then i remember there's no such thing as redemptive violence.
and then i think to myself, "is rescuing violence the same as redemptive violence?"
war is not the answer. invasion is wrong. occupation is wrong. but what about insurrection? what about violent uprising within a country in order to gain liberation?
i am stuck. i could go for a coffee date or a phone call with anyone interested in talking about this stuff.
peace.
amani.
veritas.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Cambodia-Phnom Penh-Tuol Sleng
three times now since waking up today, Cambodia's come to mind.
punjabican and i are coming to a place where our futures after college are nearing rapidly and we need to get a strong jump on exactly what will be involved in the process of metamorphosis between college and 'the real world'. though i understand the sentiment and reality of college being its own safe little world, i've also come to find that there is a great deal that is accessible in my life at this point.
i think that up until this point i've blinded myself to the options due to my location in nearly rural Indiana... a place i'm still hardly fond of, all things considered.
but now i'm starting to realize i really need to break out of this self-inflicted coma and strike out into the world bravely and recklessly. i've held back for fear of dead-ending (but worse dead-end can you come to than an intentional stand-still?) and for fear of not knowing enough and not being able to do anything. ignorance was never really bliss for me, because i've always wanted to learn that which i do not already know. and now that i'm learning more and more i only find my past and present ignorance to be an aggravation i wish to have dealt without.
i wish people here in the western world knew more about people beyond their borders, our borders... i wish people here cared about the Khmer Rouge's devastating affects, and knew what language is spoken in countries in the Horn of Africa, and knew how many years people have been held captive by FARC in Colombia, and understood what overpopulation can do to a country that is becoming the economic forefront with no moral accountability from the international community.
i wish a lot of things. i wish people didn't want to wage war on other people they don't understand. i wish they would change their minds.
so i pray for them, i pray for the future that people who learn and know and realise will be able to affect in some way. i pray that i can be effective as well in causing change.
i wish americans and the rest of us ruling the western world (and everyone underneath us) could learn to "...live simply so that others may simply live."
three times now since waking up today, Cambodia's come to mind. i'm not sure where to start, i'm relatively certain that people simply won't care about an aging museum documenting lost lives and forgotten atrocities, despite the fact that it's invaluable history is crumbling and yellowing and fading and walking precariously near the edge of oblivion and the unknown.
i don't think you will care to look anything up that i mentioned in here, after reading this. but i hope you will.
punjabican and i are aspiring to go to Tuol Sleng, a museum in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, that's taken a stand in the former prison building, known as S-21, where all the people whose faces and stories adorn the walls were executed en masse simply because the Khmer Rouge wanted to revitalize a nation 30 years ago...
we dream of being able to go to this museum and spend several months photographing and scanning everything into an electronic vault where it should hopefully never be forgotten. we're also hoping for grant money to stabilize the museum itself and all its displays of lives lost. though the specifics are not yet managed, this is our hope, and maybe God will see fit to send us to a forgotten place to help people everywhere else remember them.
please pray for us, pray for an end to ignorance around the world and in your own homes and schools.
Asanteni sana, watu wangu!
Peace be with you.
punjabican and i are coming to a place where our futures after college are nearing rapidly and we need to get a strong jump on exactly what will be involved in the process of metamorphosis between college and 'the real world'. though i understand the sentiment and reality of college being its own safe little world, i've also come to find that there is a great deal that is accessible in my life at this point.
i think that up until this point i've blinded myself to the options due to my location in nearly rural Indiana... a place i'm still hardly fond of, all things considered.
but now i'm starting to realize i really need to break out of this self-inflicted coma and strike out into the world bravely and recklessly. i've held back for fear of dead-ending (but worse dead-end can you come to than an intentional stand-still?) and for fear of not knowing enough and not being able to do anything. ignorance was never really bliss for me, because i've always wanted to learn that which i do not already know. and now that i'm learning more and more i only find my past and present ignorance to be an aggravation i wish to have dealt without.
i wish people here in the western world knew more about people beyond their borders, our borders... i wish people here cared about the Khmer Rouge's devastating affects, and knew what language is spoken in countries in the Horn of Africa, and knew how many years people have been held captive by FARC in Colombia, and understood what overpopulation can do to a country that is becoming the economic forefront with no moral accountability from the international community.
i wish a lot of things. i wish people didn't want to wage war on other people they don't understand. i wish they would change their minds.
so i pray for them, i pray for the future that people who learn and know and realise will be able to affect in some way. i pray that i can be effective as well in causing change.
i wish americans and the rest of us ruling the western world (and everyone underneath us) could learn to "...live simply so that others may simply live."
three times now since waking up today, Cambodia's come to mind. i'm not sure where to start, i'm relatively certain that people simply won't care about an aging museum documenting lost lives and forgotten atrocities, despite the fact that it's invaluable history is crumbling and yellowing and fading and walking precariously near the edge of oblivion and the unknown.
i don't think you will care to look anything up that i mentioned in here, after reading this. but i hope you will.
punjabican and i are aspiring to go to Tuol Sleng, a museum in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, that's taken a stand in the former prison building, known as S-21, where all the people whose faces and stories adorn the walls were executed en masse simply because the Khmer Rouge wanted to revitalize a nation 30 years ago...
we dream of being able to go to this museum and spend several months photographing and scanning everything into an electronic vault where it should hopefully never be forgotten. we're also hoping for grant money to stabilize the museum itself and all its displays of lives lost. though the specifics are not yet managed, this is our hope, and maybe God will see fit to send us to a forgotten place to help people everywhere else remember them.
please pray for us, pray for an end to ignorance around the world and in your own homes and schools.
Asanteni sana, watu wangu!
Peace be with you.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Mogadishu
"hello, my name is ________________, and i'm a US citizen living in ______________. i'm calling on behalf of a man named ________________ living in Mogadishu, in Somalia, seeking asylum here..."
i called the UNHCR DC Office.
this is how my voicemail started. obviously, for protection all around, things had to be changed here, in this publishing.
the man i mentioned above, a Somali journalist, has been threatened by both sides, for his work with foreign journalists.
one of the journalists he's worked with in the past several months works for a big newspaper based not far from my house. i'm working with both of them, as well as a woman in the 11th District Office in Ohio, working for Representative Stephanie Tubbs-Jones.
hopefully this action will all count for something.
i called the UNHCR DC Office.
this is how my voicemail started. obviously, for protection all around, things had to be changed here, in this publishing.
the man i mentioned above, a Somali journalist, has been threatened by both sides, for his work with foreign journalists.
one of the journalists he's worked with in the past several months works for a big newspaper based not far from my house. i'm working with both of them, as well as a woman in the 11th District Office in Ohio, working for Representative Stephanie Tubbs-Jones.
hopefully this action will all count for something.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
not good enough. period.
i looked at Amnesty International's page today, and i'm presently sitting in front of a computer screen in Ngaramtoni, about 10 or 15 minutes west of Arusha, Tanzania.
i am reading a report on Mogadishu, Somalia. (which means if i'd hop two borders i'd be there!) it's dated July 22, 2007.
it's the latest report i can find from Amnesty.
i love Amnesty, i'm a member, and have been for almost a year or so. i've worked with them on Darfur, and i hope to continue my work again as soon as i get stateside in ten days.
i love them, but something's wrong if i can't get public access to a report on Somalia's situation that isn't nearly six months old. especially on Somalia, probably the country that would need a "status update" every three or four months. or weeks.
in the "What You Can Do" menu at the top of the page, i am instructed that i have these options:
"Act Locally"
"Take Action Online"
"Activist Toolkit"
"Member Center"
"Join US"
"Donate"
"Shop Amnesty"
that's not good enough. not for me. shouldn't be enough for anyone.
period.
in four years i should be there. i still don't know exactly what group will carry me into the Mogadishu airport, but i'm almost dead certain i'm going.
with all this fire burnin in me, all i can say is:
Lock. And. Load.
i am reading a report on Mogadishu, Somalia. (which means if i'd hop two borders i'd be there!) it's dated July 22, 2007.
it's the latest report i can find from Amnesty.
i love Amnesty, i'm a member, and have been for almost a year or so. i've worked with them on Darfur, and i hope to continue my work again as soon as i get stateside in ten days.
i love them, but something's wrong if i can't get public access to a report on Somalia's situation that isn't nearly six months old. especially on Somalia, probably the country that would need a "status update" every three or four months. or weeks.
in the "What You Can Do" menu at the top of the page, i am instructed that i have these options:
"Act Locally"
"Take Action Online"
"Activist Toolkit"
"Member Center"
"Join US"
"Donate"
"Shop Amnesty"
that's not good enough. not for me. shouldn't be enough for anyone.
period.
in four years i should be there. i still don't know exactly what group will carry me into the Mogadishu airport, but i'm almost dead certain i'm going.
with all this fire burnin in me, all i can say is:
Lock. And. Load.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
why, oh why does the bluebird sing?
if you see a bluebird singing, and you ask him why he is, he ought to have a good reason for stringing together a song.
if he doesn't have a good reason, then you may politely ask him to be quiet.
if he doesn't take a hint, just tell him to shut up and sit down.
if he still doesn't abide... cuff 'im.
and then he'll have to come up with a good defense for court.
....
if you see or hear me making a lot of noise and standing firmly on something, and you ask me why i feel as i do, i ought to have a good reason for roping together my slogans and outcries.
if i don't have a good foundation, then you may politely ask me to be quiet.
hopefully i will.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, i kindly request that you challenge me to know why i believe and say the things which i believe and say.
i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because i am in love with him.
i will tell you i believe in a world of suffering, and i probably don't need to point to all the evidence--we see and feel it every day.
i will tell you i believe in justice, because without it, somebody would've already pulled the trigger of the pistol pointed at my head.
i will tell you i believe in Jesus, because without him being a servant would have no rewards--and i would not personally like being on the floor, washing your feet.
i will tell you i believe in evolution, because there's a fossil record to back it up, and such beauty and ingenuity in the designs that span the eras that we would be cheating God to say humanity was the first on his canvas.
i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because we humans have been created in his image, a specific design set apart from everything else on the fossil record--beginning with the Old Man (Adam) and culminating in the New Man (Jesus, Son of David)--that we may have love and compassion for our neighbors (and even our enemies)... that we may grow closer to one another, and, most importantly, to him.
i will tell you this because this is one thing i must stand for, and i beg you never to make me sit down and shut up about.
i would prefer, without a doubt, with every ounce of devotion, humility, and eagerness to be no greater than my master (Matthew 10.24b), that you see that i will not abide, and that you cuff me.
you have no choice...
"...Peter was hurt that Jesus asked the question a third time. He said, "Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Then feed my sheep. (John 21.17b NLT) Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdest thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not." (John 21.18 KJV)
...another shall gird me, and carry me whither i wouldest not.
if he doesn't have a good reason, then you may politely ask him to be quiet.
if he doesn't take a hint, just tell him to shut up and sit down.
if he still doesn't abide... cuff 'im.
and then he'll have to come up with a good defense for court.
....
if you see or hear me making a lot of noise and standing firmly on something, and you ask me why i feel as i do, i ought to have a good reason for roping together my slogans and outcries.
if i don't have a good foundation, then you may politely ask me to be quiet.
hopefully i will.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, i kindly request that you challenge me to know why i believe and say the things which i believe and say.
i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because i am in love with him.
i will tell you i believe in a world of suffering, and i probably don't need to point to all the evidence--we see and feel it every day.
i will tell you i believe in justice, because without it, somebody would've already pulled the trigger of the pistol pointed at my head.
i will tell you i believe in Jesus, because without him being a servant would have no rewards--and i would not personally like being on the floor, washing your feet.
i will tell you i believe in evolution, because there's a fossil record to back it up, and such beauty and ingenuity in the designs that span the eras that we would be cheating God to say humanity was the first on his canvas.
i will tell you i believe in a God of love, because we humans have been created in his image, a specific design set apart from everything else on the fossil record--beginning with the Old Man (Adam) and culminating in the New Man (Jesus, Son of David)--that we may have love and compassion for our neighbors (and even our enemies)... that we may grow closer to one another, and, most importantly, to him.
i will tell you this because this is one thing i must stand for, and i beg you never to make me sit down and shut up about.
i would prefer, without a doubt, with every ounce of devotion, humility, and eagerness to be no greater than my master (Matthew 10.24b), that you see that i will not abide, and that you cuff me.
you have no choice...
"...Peter was hurt that Jesus asked the question a third time. He said, "Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Then feed my sheep. (John 21.17b NLT) Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdest thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not." (John 21.18 KJV)
...another shall gird me, and carry me whither i wouldest not.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
into able hands, and a very able heart
as early as Friday, December 14, 2007 i and my partner, Punjabican, will both be unable to contribute here until next year.
it is hard to have to shelve this for now, but when i return from outreach (in Mwanza, TZ) on January 10, 2008, i should have some great stories and observations and other thoughts to post on here. she will be going on winter break from school, as of this friday, and i don't remember exactly when she'll be able to start writing again.
we apologize for the boredom that may ensue whenever you check into this site. God knows i will be bored without this so familiar arm of expression.
but we also trust that we will by no means suffer any loss of creativity and imagination and material to put up on here!
in other news, though slightly related, we're capping off our first calendar year with this blog, with our first anniversary actually coming next month, on January 12. when we began we had four writers. three are still on board, but only two of us remain active. on our first day both Punjabican and i posted about the beginnings of everything we were striving four.
i said, on January 28, "i am going to experience the hardest months of my life to date, this year." the entry was entitled "i never knew i could be so tired"
that holds perfectly true, even though i had yet no real idea of what it was really going to look like.
it's interesting to look back and see that despite our early idealism, we've all stuck to our guns. even the two writers who don't write anymore have remained true to their hearts, and to mine, as my friends, and i know all four of us did something right by starting this journal.
it will be sad to go for so long, writing nothing. if i get a chance to, i have one other friend, deeply involved with all that Punjabican and i are striving toward, and also a great writer--i would like to invite her to join us as well! and perhaps, Punjabican and i will leave this journal in her able hands and very able heart.
thanks to everyone on the team who has made this such a great year! my love and prayers are with you all!
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
May God's constant presence be a blessing and a joy to you as seasons shift.
PAX.
Namaste.
Salaams.
Peace.
-Archer & Punjabican
it is hard to have to shelve this for now, but when i return from outreach (in Mwanza, TZ) on January 10, 2008, i should have some great stories and observations and other thoughts to post on here. she will be going on winter break from school, as of this friday, and i don't remember exactly when she'll be able to start writing again.
we apologize for the boredom that may ensue whenever you check into this site. God knows i will be bored without this so familiar arm of expression.
but we also trust that we will by no means suffer any loss of creativity and imagination and material to put up on here!
in other news, though slightly related, we're capping off our first calendar year with this blog, with our first anniversary actually coming next month, on January 12. when we began we had four writers. three are still on board, but only two of us remain active. on our first day both Punjabican and i posted about the beginnings of everything we were striving four.
i said, on January 28, "i am going to experience the hardest months of my life to date, this year." the entry was entitled "i never knew i could be so tired"
that holds perfectly true, even though i had yet no real idea of what it was really going to look like.
it's interesting to look back and see that despite our early idealism, we've all stuck to our guns. even the two writers who don't write anymore have remained true to their hearts, and to mine, as my friends, and i know all four of us did something right by starting this journal.
it will be sad to go for so long, writing nothing. if i get a chance to, i have one other friend, deeply involved with all that Punjabican and i are striving toward, and also a great writer--i would like to invite her to join us as well! and perhaps, Punjabican and i will leave this journal in her able hands and very able heart.
thanks to everyone on the team who has made this such a great year! my love and prayers are with you all!
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
May God's constant presence be a blessing and a joy to you as seasons shift.
PAX.
Namaste.
Salaams.
Peace.
-Archer & Punjabican
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
heat
the heat is on.
i feel idle once again.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i need to be out there.
gotta go fight.
the heat is on.
i picked up 'Not On Our Watch' again, after over a month. just in the mood for something political and activism-related. and now i feel more lost than ever.
missions is important, and not more or less important than justice, i believe. frankly, i think Jesus seemed to emphasize how we are to live more than what we are living for in the end. i could be wrong. but that's just the impression i get.
i feel idle once again.
i'm in Africa, but there's so little i can do. i can't give money since i'm so low on it myself. i can't write letters since letters across Africa rarely seem to make it where they're going (sent one to Dodoma, TZ, from here, and one to Capetown--two months ago. no reply.)
i miss lobbying with my colleague Bethany P. she and i were a good team. we hit two congresspersons from Ohio in one week, while thousands of other Amnesty activists were doing the same nation-wide. and that was back in March. i can't do anything like that here. in Darfur, people are still targets.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i learned a lot about Darfur and other issues like it, while working with Bethany in the spring. i've learned a lot while reading this book. i've learned a lot from peers and fellow passionate people.
i'm nearly consumed by the energy for this task. i'm at the point where i'm willing to pull out anything i can from companies my Roth IRA is invested in, if they're in any way connected to Sudan. i'll march straight up Capital Hill chanting if you give me a chance.
i need to be out there.
sitting here, with all this energy cooped up inside me, feeling so useless and yet so potent, i can think of only two solutions: either go to Khartoum personally, or likewise to D.C.
i need to be among the ranks of the marchers, the lobbyists, the mega-phone shouters and screamers, the political writers and journalists, the eager students and sacrificial soldiers. but i'm here, with an ever watchful eye for just such an opportunity.
gotta go fight.
standing at the edge of the cliff, what else is there to do. i've been backed into the corner by the indifference and ignorance around me. the people with the blank faces don't realize where i am, how close i am to the edge.
but now i've gotta take a stand, raise the banner, draw attention, raise awareness. shake things up. fight. things get dirty when people raise havoc. quiet is more destructive than loud protest. i gotta go join the fight.
Get into gear and make some noise.
-Archer
i feel idle once again.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i need to be out there.
gotta go fight.
the heat is on.
i picked up 'Not On Our Watch' again, after over a month. just in the mood for something political and activism-related. and now i feel more lost than ever.
missions is important, and not more or less important than justice, i believe. frankly, i think Jesus seemed to emphasize how we are to live more than what we are living for in the end. i could be wrong. but that's just the impression i get.
i feel idle once again.
i'm in Africa, but there's so little i can do. i can't give money since i'm so low on it myself. i can't write letters since letters across Africa rarely seem to make it where they're going (sent one to Dodoma, TZ, from here, and one to Capetown--two months ago. no reply.)
i miss lobbying with my colleague Bethany P. she and i were a good team. we hit two congresspersons from Ohio in one week, while thousands of other Amnesty activists were doing the same nation-wide. and that was back in March. i can't do anything like that here. in Darfur, people are still targets.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i learned a lot about Darfur and other issues like it, while working with Bethany in the spring. i've learned a lot while reading this book. i've learned a lot from peers and fellow passionate people.
i'm nearly consumed by the energy for this task. i'm at the point where i'm willing to pull out anything i can from companies my Roth IRA is invested in, if they're in any way connected to Sudan. i'll march straight up Capital Hill chanting if you give me a chance.
i need to be out there.
sitting here, with all this energy cooped up inside me, feeling so useless and yet so potent, i can think of only two solutions: either go to Khartoum personally, or likewise to D.C.
i need to be among the ranks of the marchers, the lobbyists, the mega-phone shouters and screamers, the political writers and journalists, the eager students and sacrificial soldiers. but i'm here, with an ever watchful eye for just such an opportunity.
gotta go fight.
standing at the edge of the cliff, what else is there to do. i've been backed into the corner by the indifference and ignorance around me. the people with the blank faces don't realize where i am, how close i am to the edge.
but now i've gotta take a stand, raise the banner, draw attention, raise awareness. shake things up. fight. things get dirty when people raise havoc. quiet is more destructive than loud protest. i gotta go join the fight.
Get into gear and make some noise.
-Archer
Saturday, November 10, 2007
good to go home. (remix: dated Nov. 18)
it's probably not too healthy to be thinking about it so early, but i'm going to be really glad to go back to Indiana, and to visit Cleveland and Kentucky again.
to some degree, there's the hazard of this causing me to be so lax and irresponsible here, thinking so far ahead--2 and a half months. but on the other hand, isn't it also incredibly responsible to be planning ahead for the coming journey upon my arrival.
no sojourn under God's eyes ever reaches the finish line until the sojourner is looking into the eyes of God.
i can't ignore that my work was never finished when i left. and i can't ignore the fact that i will be picking up where i left off with a lot of my political and social activism.
as far as i can tell, Lafayette isn't exactly Chicago or Seattle or New York, or even Cleveland. but that certainly doesn't draw it up short of people who care about justice--at home, and globally.
there are great men and women i am looking forward to working with, in various ministries. i also have hopes to travel back to my roots in Europe and spend six months there. i may have to spend up to a year working at Barnes & Noble in Lafayette before i get such a chance. but i feel that that is where God is leading me. i don't know really any of the details, or exactly where i'll go. but i genuinely feel that it must be God calling me into it. it seems so illogical otherwise. it doesn't fit with any of my previous plans and thoughts concerning Africa. always wanted to go back and visit Amsterdam for a bit, but nothing quite like this.
frankly, as much as i've try to "know God (and make God known"- as is YWAM's motto) here in Arusha, it's been really difficult, since i've had to deal with so much legalism and religiosity, inside and outside of my DTS. thus it's been too hard for me to really meet God and get to know him as my Father as he's been able to barely reveal to me, amidst all the stifling structure.
in other news, i've been really struggling with the leadership here. not all, but several by name, and sometimes sadly the whole entity of YWAM Arusha seems to be to blame-- for those of you reading this entry after Nov. 18, 2007, you'll have missed a very explosive section containing angry journal entries from last week. due to my father's wisdom and frankly a sense that i needed to remove it (just like Hayley Williams' second thoughts on some of her lyrics in the amazing song, "Misery Business"; just read about that in an old issue of Relevant magazine) my anger was justified as far as i can tell, it's taught me a lot about myself and the way i see things, and for now, i'm getting past the feelings of anger that i can do little or nothing about. i'm definitely learning what it means to stick to what i know, and who i am, as i'm under fire. the entries were removed because they contained names i hadn't bothered changing, and to someone on the outside, it could seem as though i hated them. i definitely do not. my anger has passed, but the lesson remains, and again i'm working at seeking the best out of this DTS. after the following dashes, the remixed version is complete. PAX--
again: your will be done, Father.
-archer
to some degree, there's the hazard of this causing me to be so lax and irresponsible here, thinking so far ahead--2 and a half months. but on the other hand, isn't it also incredibly responsible to be planning ahead for the coming journey upon my arrival.
no sojourn under God's eyes ever reaches the finish line until the sojourner is looking into the eyes of God.
i can't ignore that my work was never finished when i left. and i can't ignore the fact that i will be picking up where i left off with a lot of my political and social activism.
as far as i can tell, Lafayette isn't exactly Chicago or Seattle or New York, or even Cleveland. but that certainly doesn't draw it up short of people who care about justice--at home, and globally.
there are great men and women i am looking forward to working with, in various ministries. i also have hopes to travel back to my roots in Europe and spend six months there. i may have to spend up to a year working at Barnes & Noble in Lafayette before i get such a chance. but i feel that that is where God is leading me. i don't know really any of the details, or exactly where i'll go. but i genuinely feel that it must be God calling me into it. it seems so illogical otherwise. it doesn't fit with any of my previous plans and thoughts concerning Africa. always wanted to go back and visit Amsterdam for a bit, but nothing quite like this.
frankly, as much as i've try to "know God (and make God known"- as is YWAM's motto) here in Arusha, it's been really difficult, since i've had to deal with so much legalism and religiosity, inside and outside of my DTS. thus it's been too hard for me to really meet God and get to know him as my Father as he's been able to barely reveal to me, amidst all the stifling structure.
in other news, i've been really struggling with the leadership here. not all, but several by name, and sometimes sadly the whole entity of YWAM Arusha seems to be to blame-- for those of you reading this entry after Nov. 18, 2007, you'll have missed a very explosive section containing angry journal entries from last week. due to my father's wisdom and frankly a sense that i needed to remove it (just like Hayley Williams' second thoughts on some of her lyrics in the amazing song, "Misery Business"; just read about that in an old issue of Relevant magazine) my anger was justified as far as i can tell, it's taught me a lot about myself and the way i see things, and for now, i'm getting past the feelings of anger that i can do little or nothing about. i'm definitely learning what it means to stick to what i know, and who i am, as i'm under fire. the entries were removed because they contained names i hadn't bothered changing, and to someone on the outside, it could seem as though i hated them. i definitely do not. my anger has passed, but the lesson remains, and again i'm working at seeking the best out of this DTS. after the following dashes, the remixed version is complete. PAX--
again: your will be done, Father.
-archer
Friday, November 9, 2007
Eliska Dali
i know so little about her. but i had the chance to get to know her better a little over a year ago.
i met her on October 5, 2006, and never got to see her, or anyone else i met that day, ever again.
**that's her in the front early in 2006, protesting Alito, and the woman behind her is her counterpart. she doesn't seem to like being "safely distant" from her challenges.**
my brother, Micah, and i were at Willard Park in downtown Cleveland, with my friend from college, Bri. there were about 400 other people there throughout the morning and afternoon.
i was skipping a math class, Micah was skipping the whole day of high school sophomore classes, and Bri was skipping... God only knows what. that was sorta her thing last year. skipping classes, chilling with me (for the first part of the fall semester, until the lure of the Gamers' Guild dragged her away from me on most days :) ) during her lunch break and when she was supposed to be in class. oh no, wait, that day she didn't need to skip. October 5 was a thursday, and she only had classes on mondays and wednesdays. she'd come up to the school by bus just to join me on another couple of bus rides into the fringes of northern downtown Cleveland.
to march against the Bush Regime.
and that was where we met Eliska Dali. we had no idea she was one of the organizers and leaders of the protest and march, but since Bri and Micah (who'd come up with a friend of his, a kid on the school newspaper staff or something like that, to do a story) and i were clueless of how to get involved, we found Eliska early on. i think she was smoking. almost everyone there was. i probably stuck out like a sore thumb. maybe that's why she and Ray, another leader, came over to talk to us and hand out literature.
i was beginning to be really thankful i'd brought my satchel when i had found the need to put several newspapers from the U.S. Communist party in there to disperse back at school later. after handing us flyers and stuff for ourselves, we were invited to go to the heart of downtown: Public Square. we went there at lunch break on a thursday afternoon, and handed flyers to people in suits and ties, blazers and enough rolex merchandise to feed the city for the day. we also handed them to those who maybe weren't able to have lunch for the day. and of course in Cleveland, due to the oppression of poverty and the inadequte city systems, most of the latter were black. most of the former were, of course, white. and most of the former wouldn't even touch the papers.
and then you had the people who would grunt and walk off when they saw you. to be honest, we were a motly crew. Micah and i had really long hair at the time, we both had fingerless gloves. and not one of the three guys in that spot (Bri was the rebel, as usual, and was the only girl) hadn't shaved in God knows how long.
during the march, Micah was back somewheres in the middle, Bri and i were at the front, helping control the large blue banner amidst the terrifying gusts of autumn Cleveland wind. at one point Ray put the microphone to my lips as i held the banner in one hand, thrusting my other fist into the air with each beat of the chant we were all screaming.
those same men and women with the rolexes and clean-shaven faces watched from windows several stories away as i lost my voice, raising the morale of the 400 or so protestors, disturbing downtown rush-hour traffic.
it was a good day though. a pacifist organization called Food Not Bombs fed us at the end of the march, around 5.30 or 6ish. Bri lit up again. Eliska stood and talked with the three of us, as we finished our soup in styrofoam cups with plastic spoons that three other people had likely already used.
and then we headed out from there, and i parted ways with Eliska Dali and Ray. however, i maintined phone communique with both of them for several weeks afterwards, until the protest mentality in me died off, and my activism was geared once more FOR Africa, and no longer to heavily AGAINST Bush.
***
but recent events here at the base have brought that protest mentality back to mind. and Eliska's name naturally popped back into my head. i haven't learned anything of her fate ever after that day, but googling her name today revealed several interesting stories of her activism in the beginning of 2006.
i wonder where she is now. i wonder who she'll vote for next year. i wonder about too many things...
Love and Peace or Else, brothers and sisters.
i met her on October 5, 2006, and never got to see her, or anyone else i met that day, ever again.
**that's her in the front early in 2006, protesting Alito, and the woman behind her is her counterpart. she doesn't seem to like being "safely distant" from her challenges.**my brother, Micah, and i were at Willard Park in downtown Cleveland, with my friend from college, Bri. there were about 400 other people there throughout the morning and afternoon.
i was skipping a math class, Micah was skipping the whole day of high school sophomore classes, and Bri was skipping... God only knows what. that was sorta her thing last year. skipping classes, chilling with me (for the first part of the fall semester, until the lure of the Gamers' Guild dragged her away from me on most days :) ) during her lunch break and when she was supposed to be in class. oh no, wait, that day she didn't need to skip. October 5 was a thursday, and she only had classes on mondays and wednesdays. she'd come up to the school by bus just to join me on another couple of bus rides into the fringes of northern downtown Cleveland.
to march against the Bush Regime.
and that was where we met Eliska Dali. we had no idea she was one of the organizers and leaders of the protest and march, but since Bri and Micah (who'd come up with a friend of his, a kid on the school newspaper staff or something like that, to do a story) and i were clueless of how to get involved, we found Eliska early on. i think she was smoking. almost everyone there was. i probably stuck out like a sore thumb. maybe that's why she and Ray, another leader, came over to talk to us and hand out literature.
i was beginning to be really thankful i'd brought my satchel when i had found the need to put several newspapers from the U.S. Communist party in there to disperse back at school later. after handing us flyers and stuff for ourselves, we were invited to go to the heart of downtown: Public Square. we went there at lunch break on a thursday afternoon, and handed flyers to people in suits and ties, blazers and enough rolex merchandise to feed the city for the day. we also handed them to those who maybe weren't able to have lunch for the day. and of course in Cleveland, due to the oppression of poverty and the inadequte city systems, most of the latter were black. most of the former were, of course, white. and most of the former wouldn't even touch the papers.
and then you had the people who would grunt and walk off when they saw you. to be honest, we were a motly crew. Micah and i had really long hair at the time, we both had fingerless gloves. and not one of the three guys in that spot (Bri was the rebel, as usual, and was the only girl) hadn't shaved in God knows how long.
during the march, Micah was back somewheres in the middle, Bri and i were at the front, helping control the large blue banner amidst the terrifying gusts of autumn Cleveland wind. at one point Ray put the microphone to my lips as i held the banner in one hand, thrusting my other fist into the air with each beat of the chant we were all screaming.
those same men and women with the rolexes and clean-shaven faces watched from windows several stories away as i lost my voice, raising the morale of the 400 or so protestors, disturbing downtown rush-hour traffic.
it was a good day though. a pacifist organization called Food Not Bombs fed us at the end of the march, around 5.30 or 6ish. Bri lit up again. Eliska stood and talked with the three of us, as we finished our soup in styrofoam cups with plastic spoons that three other people had likely already used.
and then we headed out from there, and i parted ways with Eliska Dali and Ray. however, i maintined phone communique with both of them for several weeks afterwards, until the protest mentality in me died off, and my activism was geared once more FOR Africa, and no longer to heavily AGAINST Bush.
***
but recent events here at the base have brought that protest mentality back to mind. and Eliska's name naturally popped back into my head. i haven't learned anything of her fate ever after that day, but googling her name today revealed several interesting stories of her activism in the beginning of 2006.
i wonder where she is now. i wonder who she'll vote for next year. i wonder about too many things...
Love and Peace or Else, brothers and sisters.
Friday, August 17, 2007
the monster who got devoured by community
"i can't believe you can be so against what you once stood for!"
that's what i almost said to him.
my brother, Micah.
we were having a rather casual argument, as we sometimes do. i was trying to tell him why movements are so great, why men and women like Yoko Ono and Dr. King and Bono (sorta) and Lennon all give themselves to causes for a reason.
i tried to tell him that all change is made by small groups of people that grow into something large and influential enough. i reminded him of Amnesty International, of which i am a member. started by a single British professor in 1961, and has grown to nearly 2 million members whose letters have freed thousands of prisoners and victims and alleviated tensions and injustice all around the world in only 40 years.
he looked back at me with a smug look on his face that i couldn't crack. i just don't get how my brother, the boy with the cross branded on his left arm, and the Che Guevera clock (which is now no longer a clock so much as a small, glass poster, and is now also mine)
, could suddenly become somebody who's clearly so hopeless, with no faith in humanity, or even in humans. he's got no faith in anything, save Zarathustra's bold story of "making it on his own". he claims Jesus did it too, in his coy attempt to throw my own words back on me. but with his foot sticking plainly out of his mouth, i reminded him that forty days of fasting alone in the desert hardly counts as being alone. oh, and then i told him about the 12 disciples who were with him nearly everywhere he went.
he tried to tell me that since Zarathustra made it, anyone who wasn't weak could do it. he apparently had forgotten for the moment that good ole' Z is a fictional character. actually, i think that's when he tried to segway to Jesus. to him, Jesus is just as fictional, sometimes.
sometimes.
...BUT this isn't what i meant to get side-tracked by.
instead, i meant to tell you about another boy who had an american flag hanging proudly in his room, draped across his mirror with a chalky cross drawn on it. this boy believed with all his heart that it was america's sacred duty to follow George W. into battle and storm into Iraq in 02. he would have actually voted for W. the second time around, had he been old enough. this boy sickens me far more than Micah ever will. this boy believed in intolerance as the only way to change things for the better. this boy was anti-gay marriage and pro-war. (i.e. anti-love, and pro-hate) he was a thoroughbred american who wished he could've said the pledge of allegiance twice daily at school, rather than only on mondays in 8th grade.
this boy was going to join the navy, or the marines or something and fight for his country. he had a buzz cut already and everything about him stank of proud-to-be-an-american in the most disgusting form. it wasn't even flattering to the remaining good elements of the U.S.
this boy was frankly a self-righteous prick just like the best of them. could never recognize flaws in himself. believed he was always right. believed that america was supposed to be an all-christian nation. and that everyone who didn't believe what he did had to be converted, and he thought them more like scalps dangling from his belt, than actual souls, actually aching people. there was no love in this boy.
he was a monster.
i don't have that mirror in my room anymore. the american flag lies half-burnt in a black garbage bag somewhere in a dump.
i protested the "Bush Regime" on October 5, 2007 and felt almost more at home there, than i do half the time in church. it's funny how preotestors seem to realize they can do nothing on their own, and we sort of band together, as we all did that night to share a bowl of free soup, brought to us by an organization supporting the march, called "Food Not Bombs", i think. as a sister of mine shared a cigarette with a brother of mine, and both braced their backs against the cold downtown wind, i waited my turn for a used spoon, in order to eat half a cup of warm veggie soup in chicken broth.
after the march and everything, we wrapped up with a "die-in", which was by far, one of the most dramatic and patriotic experiences i've ever witnessed. watching video footgae from it later, i was shocked to find an elderly man in a wheel-chair shifting his weight and lowering himself to the chilled black-top of E. 9th street in the heart of Cleveland. during rush-hour.
riding the bus home that night with Micah, as the dim lights kicked in overhead in the fading autumn sun, i read from a communist newspaper about the similarities between Bush's and Hitler's. it was kinda freaky. as a middle-aged man walked past me, on his way out the front door of the 9X four-wheeled community driving machine, he looked down and complimented me on the white bandana around my knee with the word 'COEXIST' scrawled in dark permanent marker. the Islam crescent was the 'C', the Jewish Star of David was the 'X', and the Christian cross was the 'T'.
that bandana is now sewn onto a small black jacket i bought for the purpose of shaking things up and lacing it with lyrics and sayings and emblems of what i stand for. i named her Ruth. i'm wearing her now, for the first time since probably March this year.
she's beautiful, and reminds me of the kind of communion that comes from a strong, united purpose. i miss that union.
i'm hoping i'll find that soon, sometime in the coming couple of years.
anyone wanna go see that movie, "Across The Universe" with me sometime?
Love and Peace or Else.
-Archer
that's what i almost said to him.
my brother, Micah.
we were having a rather casual argument, as we sometimes do. i was trying to tell him why movements are so great, why men and women like Yoko Ono and Dr. King and Bono (sorta) and Lennon all give themselves to causes for a reason.
i tried to tell him that all change is made by small groups of people that grow into something large and influential enough. i reminded him of Amnesty International, of which i am a member. started by a single British professor in 1961, and has grown to nearly 2 million members whose letters have freed thousands of prisoners and victims and alleviated tensions and injustice all around the world in only 40 years.
he looked back at me with a smug look on his face that i couldn't crack. i just don't get how my brother, the boy with the cross branded on his left arm, and the Che Guevera clock (which is now no longer a clock so much as a small, glass poster, and is now also mine)
, could suddenly become somebody who's clearly so hopeless, with no faith in humanity, or even in humans. he's got no faith in anything, save Zarathustra's bold story of "making it on his own". he claims Jesus did it too, in his coy attempt to throw my own words back on me. but with his foot sticking plainly out of his mouth, i reminded him that forty days of fasting alone in the desert hardly counts as being alone. oh, and then i told him about the 12 disciples who were with him nearly everywhere he went.he tried to tell me that since Zarathustra made it, anyone who wasn't weak could do it. he apparently had forgotten for the moment that good ole' Z is a fictional character. actually, i think that's when he tried to segway to Jesus. to him, Jesus is just as fictional, sometimes.
sometimes.
...BUT this isn't what i meant to get side-tracked by.
instead, i meant to tell you about another boy who had an american flag hanging proudly in his room, draped across his mirror with a chalky cross drawn on it. this boy believed with all his heart that it was america's sacred duty to follow George W. into battle and storm into Iraq in 02. he would have actually voted for W. the second time around, had he been old enough. this boy sickens me far more than Micah ever will. this boy believed in intolerance as the only way to change things for the better. this boy was anti-gay marriage and pro-war. (i.e. anti-love, and pro-hate) he was a thoroughbred american who wished he could've said the pledge of allegiance twice daily at school, rather than only on mondays in 8th grade.
this boy was going to join the navy, or the marines or something and fight for his country. he had a buzz cut already and everything about him stank of proud-to-be-an-american in the most disgusting form. it wasn't even flattering to the remaining good elements of the U.S.
this boy was frankly a self-righteous prick just like the best of them. could never recognize flaws in himself. believed he was always right. believed that america was supposed to be an all-christian nation. and that everyone who didn't believe what he did had to be converted, and he thought them more like scalps dangling from his belt, than actual souls, actually aching people. there was no love in this boy.
he was a monster.
i don't have that mirror in my room anymore. the american flag lies half-burnt in a black garbage bag somewhere in a dump.
i protested the "Bush Regime" on October 5, 2007 and felt almost more at home there, than i do half the time in church. it's funny how preotestors seem to realize they can do nothing on their own, and we sort of band together, as we all did that night to share a bowl of free soup, brought to us by an organization supporting the march, called "Food Not Bombs", i think. as a sister of mine shared a cigarette with a brother of mine, and both braced their backs against the cold downtown wind, i waited my turn for a used spoon, in order to eat half a cup of warm veggie soup in chicken broth.
after the march and everything, we wrapped up with a "die-in", which was by far, one of the most dramatic and patriotic experiences i've ever witnessed. watching video footgae from it later, i was shocked to find an elderly man in a wheel-chair shifting his weight and lowering himself to the chilled black-top of E. 9th street in the heart of Cleveland. during rush-hour.
riding the bus home that night with Micah, as the dim lights kicked in overhead in the fading autumn sun, i read from a communist newspaper about the similarities between Bush's and Hitler's. it was kinda freaky. as a middle-aged man walked past me, on his way out the front door of the 9X four-wheeled community driving machine, he looked down and complimented me on the white bandana around my knee with the word 'COEXIST' scrawled in dark permanent marker. the Islam crescent was the 'C', the Jewish Star of David was the 'X', and the Christian cross was the 'T'.
that bandana is now sewn onto a small black jacket i bought for the purpose of shaking things up and lacing it with lyrics and sayings and emblems of what i stand for. i named her Ruth. i'm wearing her now, for the first time since probably March this year.
she's beautiful, and reminds me of the kind of communion that comes from a strong, united purpose. i miss that union.
i'm hoping i'll find that soon, sometime in the coming couple of years.
anyone wanna go see that movie, "Across The Universe" with me sometime?
Love and Peace or Else.
-Archer
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
the real heroes
for what it's worth, i must tell you that great numbers of people doing small things with great love... they have just saved thousands of lives in India.
i get newsletters from many organizations asking for me to help with certain issues all around the world, largely affecting the sick and the poor. they are your burden just as much as they are mine. and they are my burden just as much as they are their own. no one gets off the hook.
in the case which the organization called CARE has been tracking and fighting for, in India, i just learned today that Novartis (a huge pharmaceutical company which has been pushing to make ILLEGAL, a score of generic brands of life-saving Anti-Retroviral drugs--ARVs--in India) has DROPPED its case!
i was first made aware of this struggle in the Indian courts sometime last fall, and from time to time, i've had new news. frankly i think all i ever did for this case was a generic letter online with maybe a couple personal tweaks, and my "signature". it's a lot when a lot of people are doing it. but i'm certainly no hero. the point is, many many people actually hand-wrote letters to the Indian government and none of it was the usual, tailored story that most of us with computers have the convenience of dealing with. i read a couple excerpts from these letters in the email newsletter i just got.
here's the excerpts that were among the many words shared with the Indian government that have, at least for a while, secured the affordable ARVs for India's poorest brothers and sisters... these two women are among the heroes of this battle!
"I hope you know what AIDS has done and is still doing in Africa . . I have three blood sisters who depend on ARV's for life. I may not be infected with AIDS but I am affected because I am nursing beloved ones who are infected and keeping orphans of those who are gone." -- Hannah , Zambia
"As a woman and mother of two children of my own, I ask you please drop this case against the Indian government. If I were sick and needed lifesaving drugs, I can't possibly imagine what it would be like to be denied those drugs. Please don't deny other women the chance to live." --Michelle, LA
i say again... only small things, with great love.
PAX.
i get newsletters from many organizations asking for me to help with certain issues all around the world, largely affecting the sick and the poor. they are your burden just as much as they are mine. and they are my burden just as much as they are their own. no one gets off the hook.
in the case which the organization called CARE has been tracking and fighting for, in India, i just learned today that Novartis (a huge pharmaceutical company which has been pushing to make ILLEGAL, a score of generic brands of life-saving Anti-Retroviral drugs--ARVs--in India) has DROPPED its case!
i was first made aware of this struggle in the Indian courts sometime last fall, and from time to time, i've had new news. frankly i think all i ever did for this case was a generic letter online with maybe a couple personal tweaks, and my "signature". it's a lot when a lot of people are doing it. but i'm certainly no hero. the point is, many many people actually hand-wrote letters to the Indian government and none of it was the usual, tailored story that most of us with computers have the convenience of dealing with. i read a couple excerpts from these letters in the email newsletter i just got.
here's the excerpts that were among the many words shared with the Indian government that have, at least for a while, secured the affordable ARVs for India's poorest brothers and sisters... these two women are among the heroes of this battle!
"I hope you know what AIDS has done and is still doing in Africa . . I have three blood sisters who depend on ARV's for life. I may not be infected with AIDS but I am affected because I am nursing beloved ones who are infected and keeping orphans of those who are gone." -- Hannah , Zambia
"As a woman and mother of two children of my own, I ask you please drop this case against the Indian government. If I were sick and needed lifesaving drugs, I can't possibly imagine what it would be like to be denied those drugs. Please don't deny other women the chance to live." --Michelle, LA
i say again... only small things, with great love.
PAX.
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