Never got back to the Troy Davis post. Sadly, in a gesture epitomizing the sadism of the entire case, the execution was stayed for a couple of hours while the Supreme Court considered whether or not they'd hear the case. I was in the gym, and both got a tweet and heard a radio announcer say the execution had been stayed. So I talked it up in kettlebell class, and we were all overjoyed.
Imagine my shock, then, when I came home that night and Googled Mr. Davis's name, only to find that he had been executed around 11 pm. It seems the Supreme Court had decided not to consider the case, after all. Before the ink was even dry on their decision, Georgia killed the man. Later on we learned that President Obama tried everything he could to find a way to intervene, but the state of Georgia rebuffed his attempts.
That a Southern state would consider itself powerful enough to rebuff considerations from the POTUS, a black man, is beyond incredible. I can't help but wonder when our brother Obama is going to flex his muscles, like he did with the bin Laden execution. I wonder if his reticence isn't culturally influenced? Could his having been reared in Indonesia and Hawaii have instilled different, more deferential, cultural and social norms in him? If so, when's he going to realize that he's in the US?
I don't want to jump on the popular bandwagon of criticizing our President. That's easy, and a cheap shot. I can't help but wonder what pressures he faces, and why he does not act more authoritatively. I'm sure his hands are bound someway; I just want to know why, how, and by whom.
There's no point to today's posting; I just haven't posted in a while.
This morning I went into a McDonald's. McDonald's, I'm through with you. This may be a bit racist, but I'm tired of going to McDonald's where people who look like they're pissed off that they have to go to work poke around and take forever to get a cup of coffee, when usually NEXT DOOR I can find a Dunkin' Donuts staffed by people who seem eager to embrace the American Dream and are hurrying to serve me. Plus, DD's coffee is better. So Goodbye, Mickey D.... You clearly don't love me.
gotta go....
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Troy Davis; Prophetic Voices
First of all, I just can't believe the state of Georgia is going to execute Troy Davis at 7:00 this evening. Troy Davis is a man incarcerated in Georgia for murdering a policeman. There are lots of questions about his conviction, the most pressing one being the fact that SEVEN of the NINE non-police witnesses against him have recanted or contradicted the stories they told in court. I read something that said they recanted by affidavit, which doesn't carry a lot of weight, since they were not able to be cross-examined. OK, but the legal maneuverings should not outweigh the fact that 7/9, or 78% of the witnesses against this man have changed their stories. It seems to me that 78% is more than reasonable doubt. We let a woman kill her child and she gets off because there's "reasonable doubt," even though everyone knows she did it. We let white guys accused of killing childrren get out of prison. It's unlikely they did it, but justice prevailed.
So why doesn't justice prevail for Troy Davis? Is there not the same degree of doubt regarding his case as there was regarding the case of the West Memphis Three?
I read a FOP website that attempts to discredit the cries for justice for Troy Davis. You can find it here. It's so lame that I don't need to comment on it. The logic in the first one is interesting, though. They say "None of the recantations listed by Davis supporters state that Davis did not murder Officer MacPhail." Um, guys? Just because no one said he didn't murder the Officer, that doesn't mean he DID murder the officer. Think about it: No one said I didn't murder Officer MacPhail. According to the logic presented here, the FOP seems to think that would be sufficient grounds for executing me. What in the world?!?!
I'm concerned with the State of Georgia and the popular media about to execute a man who may be innocent. I'm also concerned with America's potential crucifixion of our current President. It's like everyone has just turned on the guy. Let's see... so he's tried to cross the aisle and make concessions to the hate-mongerers, and hasn't been a jerk about it. For that he's perceived as being weak and ineffective? Huh?!?!?
All of which brings me to this: where are our prophetic voices? I see some, but not a lot, of Christian folk talking about this Troy Davis affront. Why is the church not speaking out against a perceived injustice? Why are our pulpits not sounding the alarm that a black man is about to be killed in the American legal system, despite hundreds of thousands of people crying out that there is reasonable doubt? Even if there are doubts about Troy Davis personally, where is the cry against capital punishment? Against cruel and unusual punishment? Against oppressive regimes? Why do we embroil ourselves in nonessential stuff like what color shirt or tie or robe or stole we'll wear and ignore this fundamental assault on our human lives?
I'm at work now and will have to come back to this. But I just have to speak on it, even if my thoughts are not coherent or well-organized.
So why doesn't justice prevail for Troy Davis? Is there not the same degree of doubt regarding his case as there was regarding the case of the West Memphis Three?
I read a FOP website that attempts to discredit the cries for justice for Troy Davis. You can find it here. It's so lame that I don't need to comment on it. The logic in the first one is interesting, though. They say "None of the recantations listed by Davis supporters state that Davis did not murder Officer MacPhail." Um, guys? Just because no one said he didn't murder the Officer, that doesn't mean he DID murder the officer. Think about it: No one said I didn't murder Officer MacPhail. According to the logic presented here, the FOP seems to think that would be sufficient grounds for executing me. What in the world?!?!
I'm concerned with the State of Georgia and the popular media about to execute a man who may be innocent. I'm also concerned with America's potential crucifixion of our current President. It's like everyone has just turned on the guy. Let's see... so he's tried to cross the aisle and make concessions to the hate-mongerers, and hasn't been a jerk about it. For that he's perceived as being weak and ineffective? Huh?!?!?
All of which brings me to this: where are our prophetic voices? I see some, but not a lot, of Christian folk talking about this Troy Davis affront. Why is the church not speaking out against a perceived injustice? Why are our pulpits not sounding the alarm that a black man is about to be killed in the American legal system, despite hundreds of thousands of people crying out that there is reasonable doubt? Even if there are doubts about Troy Davis personally, where is the cry against capital punishment? Against cruel and unusual punishment? Against oppressive regimes? Why do we embroil ourselves in nonessential stuff like what color shirt or tie or robe or stole we'll wear and ignore this fundamental assault on our human lives?
I'm at work now and will have to come back to this. But I just have to speak on it, even if my thoughts are not coherent or well-organized.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Impending Old Age
It is humbling when circumstances outside your control change your perception of yourself. For instance, it is so humbling to realize you're not as young as you once were. Aside from the persistent limp from knee surgery and the fact that I'm still doing rehab like 12 weeks after surgery, there are the events from yesterday.
So we went to Rye Playland with the Sunday School. I was gonna drive up and take some of the teens. I'd leave later, I said, because I have my Saturday morning water aerobics class. Except I didn't go to it. I was out late Friday night watching the Liberty win in New Jersey. Even though I took the tunnel back instead of the GW Bridge, it got me home about 10:30. That's later than I'm usually out. Not sure what time I went to bed, but I struggled on Saturday morning and just didn't make it to class.
At 10 am, I called the kids to be ready at 11. One of them lives in the Bronx, but at 10:30, when I'm stepping out of the shower, he calls to tell me he's at the church. So I go pick him up, and then we spend another half hour or so hunting down the other kids who aren't at church and aren't at home. They showed up at chuch by shortly after 11, though.
So we get in the car and head up to Rye. Me and four teenaged boys. That was probably the first mistake. They're delightful kids, they're just teenaged boys. Different world. I'm cranking gospel music, they all have on headphones with hiphop or whatever that noise is they listen to. Since listening to gospel music was a condition of their riding with me, and since I'm apparently going deaf, and since cheap headhpones really annoy me, I announced the "I'm gonna drown out your headphones" challenge. We finally got to a point where I could play my music and didn't have to listen to theirs.
We got to the amusement park before it opened. It was the weekend after Labor Day, and at first there weren't a whole lot of people there. Since my role with the church is different from my role with the Council, I could be free to enjoy myself. So I took off for the Superman ride. Properly called, Superflight, it's a roller coaster ride where you're laid out prone. I rode it three times during the day. I rode the Dragon Coaster with the boys. We all rode the Double Shot. I think we all rode the Catch A Wave. I rode the Crazy Mouse. Then I rode the Whip with some of the kiddies. Did the go carts and bumper cars with them, as well. I did Thunder Bolt (which is sorta like the whip but the cars rotate independently as well) by myself, and Wipeout (which had centrifugal force so strong I swore to myself that the ride was breaking). I was trying to go into Starship 2000, but ended up in the Sky Flyer, which has you in a contraption and you swing back and forth like a pendulum until you eventually turn all the way over. You're like a coupla stories up in the air, upside down. I remember my cross falling all into my mouth and worrying that the chain might fall off my inverted body....
I got some ice cream and was trying to decide which ride to go on next when the boys called. It was only 6:30, but they were at the car and ready to go home. So we left. I dropped them all off at home, and had come home and gone to bed by 9:30 pm.
So you'd think I'd be fine by 9:30 this morning, but that was not the case. First of all, I had these bizarre dreams where I didn't know who I was, and didn't know where I lived. I remember waking up going, "it's ok. You're at YOUR house!" I thanked God for being able to awaken in my right mind and in my own bed. But I am worried that all the shaking and flipping and turning might have caused some sort of brain injury. These things happen when we're older. Plus, I've had this tremendous headache all day. After church, I made the obligatory pilgrimage to Stew Leonard's for croissants and lobster salad, then came home and went to bed.
And, of course, the fact that I'm up writing about it is probably indicative of the fact that I don't have a brain injury. It's just that old age makes a day at the amusement park the source of aches and pains (although that whip ride is as good as a chiropractor for the back!).
As I write this on September 11, 2011, I am aware of the events which changed our city, our country, and our world 10 years ago. That was a day when the US was, some say, humbled. Circumstances outside our control certainly changed our perception of ourselves. I was in midtown Manhattan, and remember the chaos and confusion -- cellphones didn't work, and that's when Blackberries became really popular, because they DID work when the cellphones were down. I remember how public transpo didn't work -- I couldn't get on a bus or train going uptown, so I ended up going down to Broadway and Lafayette. There was an Indian-run store there, and I knew they wouldn't close, so I went shopping, in sight of the huge toxic cloud that emerged from where the towers had once stood.
My job at the time was on Fifth Avenue, right across from St. Patrick's Cathedral. I remember how I couldn't really process grief about the attacks, so I just became weary of all the funerals. There were several funerals a day for weeks, it seemed. Fifth Avenue was always closed, there were always grieving people and pictures of fallen firefighters. There was an oppressive spirit in the air, but at the same time, if it's possible, there was a liberatory spirit. Even in the midst of burying and mourning the dead, Americans -- especially New Yorkers -- came together in solidarity and patriotism. For a while after 9/11, New Yorkers were actually nice to each other. And that's when all the busses and many businesses started using the American flag stickers. It's like in the midst of everything, we realized that as New Yorkers and as Americans, we still managed to hang onto the ties that bind us together.
And we move along, we still manage to be bound together. Despite the cloudiness that fogs the mind as I get older, I know that the United States of America will continue on, standing strong and proud. We may be temporarily humbled by circumstances outside our control, but we will continue on. Even in my old age, I can see that....
So we went to Rye Playland with the Sunday School. I was gonna drive up and take some of the teens. I'd leave later, I said, because I have my Saturday morning water aerobics class. Except I didn't go to it. I was out late Friday night watching the Liberty win in New Jersey. Even though I took the tunnel back instead of the GW Bridge, it got me home about 10:30. That's later than I'm usually out. Not sure what time I went to bed, but I struggled on Saturday morning and just didn't make it to class.
At 10 am, I called the kids to be ready at 11. One of them lives in the Bronx, but at 10:30, when I'm stepping out of the shower, he calls to tell me he's at the church. So I go pick him up, and then we spend another half hour or so hunting down the other kids who aren't at church and aren't at home. They showed up at chuch by shortly after 11, though.
So we get in the car and head up to Rye. Me and four teenaged boys. That was probably the first mistake. They're delightful kids, they're just teenaged boys. Different world. I'm cranking gospel music, they all have on headphones with hiphop or whatever that noise is they listen to. Since listening to gospel music was a condition of their riding with me, and since I'm apparently going deaf, and since cheap headhpones really annoy me, I announced the "I'm gonna drown out your headphones" challenge. We finally got to a point where I could play my music and didn't have to listen to theirs.
We got to the amusement park before it opened. It was the weekend after Labor Day, and at first there weren't a whole lot of people there. Since my role with the church is different from my role with the Council, I could be free to enjoy myself. So I took off for the Superman ride. Properly called, Superflight, it's a roller coaster ride where you're laid out prone. I rode it three times during the day. I rode the Dragon Coaster with the boys. We all rode the Double Shot. I think we all rode the Catch A Wave. I rode the Crazy Mouse. Then I rode the Whip with some of the kiddies. Did the go carts and bumper cars with them, as well. I did Thunder Bolt (which is sorta like the whip but the cars rotate independently as well) by myself, and Wipeout (which had centrifugal force so strong I swore to myself that the ride was breaking). I was trying to go into Starship 2000, but ended up in the Sky Flyer, which has you in a contraption and you swing back and forth like a pendulum until you eventually turn all the way over. You're like a coupla stories up in the air, upside down. I remember my cross falling all into my mouth and worrying that the chain might fall off my inverted body....
I got some ice cream and was trying to decide which ride to go on next when the boys called. It was only 6:30, but they were at the car and ready to go home. So we left. I dropped them all off at home, and had come home and gone to bed by 9:30 pm.
So you'd think I'd be fine by 9:30 this morning, but that was not the case. First of all, I had these bizarre dreams where I didn't know who I was, and didn't know where I lived. I remember waking up going, "it's ok. You're at YOUR house!" I thanked God for being able to awaken in my right mind and in my own bed. But I am worried that all the shaking and flipping and turning might have caused some sort of brain injury. These things happen when we're older. Plus, I've had this tremendous headache all day. After church, I made the obligatory pilgrimage to Stew Leonard's for croissants and lobster salad, then came home and went to bed.
And, of course, the fact that I'm up writing about it is probably indicative of the fact that I don't have a brain injury. It's just that old age makes a day at the amusement park the source of aches and pains (although that whip ride is as good as a chiropractor for the back!).
As I write this on September 11, 2011, I am aware of the events which changed our city, our country, and our world 10 years ago. That was a day when the US was, some say, humbled. Circumstances outside our control certainly changed our perception of ourselves. I was in midtown Manhattan, and remember the chaos and confusion -- cellphones didn't work, and that's when Blackberries became really popular, because they DID work when the cellphones were down. I remember how public transpo didn't work -- I couldn't get on a bus or train going uptown, so I ended up going down to Broadway and Lafayette. There was an Indian-run store there, and I knew they wouldn't close, so I went shopping, in sight of the huge toxic cloud that emerged from where the towers had once stood.
My job at the time was on Fifth Avenue, right across from St. Patrick's Cathedral. I remember how I couldn't really process grief about the attacks, so I just became weary of all the funerals. There were several funerals a day for weeks, it seemed. Fifth Avenue was always closed, there were always grieving people and pictures of fallen firefighters. There was an oppressive spirit in the air, but at the same time, if it's possible, there was a liberatory spirit. Even in the midst of burying and mourning the dead, Americans -- especially New Yorkers -- came together in solidarity and patriotism. For a while after 9/11, New Yorkers were actually nice to each other. And that's when all the busses and many businesses started using the American flag stickers. It's like in the midst of everything, we realized that as New Yorkers and as Americans, we still managed to hang onto the ties that bind us together.
And we move along, we still manage to be bound together. Despite the cloudiness that fogs the mind as I get older, I know that the United States of America will continue on, standing strong and proud. We may be temporarily humbled by circumstances outside our control, but we will continue on. Even in my old age, I can see that....
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Gotta Do The Work
So today I went back to work out, the first individual workout since my knee surgery. Oh. My. Goodness. I've been out nearly three months, and it feels like I'm starting from zero. While I think I've made good progress with the knee, I'm only going to be happy when it's 100%. Right now, it's 95%. So there's a little more to go.
But while I've been working on the knee, I've been using that as an excuse to not do any other weight-bearing exercise (wise) or cardio (not wise). I swam some laps today. I'm an ok swimmer, but noticed that my timing, breathing, and endurance are off. Even before the workout was over I saw improvement, and I realized that I'm able to do more stretching and attain better knee flexibility in the water than I am on land.
But I also realize how much I needed to stay in the gym -- we don't do it because it's fun, we do it because we have to do it. By stopping, by failing to find some suitable alternative while my knee was healing (nothing was wrong with my upper body), I've set my whole program back. So far back that I may not attempt the climb up Mt. Sinai, something I'd been training for since last November.
Which led me to reflect on our spiritual lives. I posted an article on Facebook the other day that some people took issue with. The gist of the article was that people's spiritual lives are not shaped independently of a spiritual community, and that the communal accountability reinforces personal growth. It's like in the gym: I may do my individual routine, and I may make progress. But if I have no trainer and no workout buddy to hold me accountable, and if I decide to deviate from my program (or stop it altogether), I can lose ground, as was demonstrated to me this evening. Even when I'm working out, if I simply imitate some actions without understanding what their purpose is or how they're properly executed (in other words, if I try to go off on my own without proper teaching), then I can actually hurt myself. It's the same way with our spiritual lives. We can go off on a "spiritual, not religious" road if we like. But what then becomes our spiritual guide? Our self? Doesn't that sort of imply that there's no power greater than ourselves?
Do we take what we want from whatever religious traditions we've been exposed to and then leave the rest? Do we, because we've been hurt or felt rejection or have been unable to connect with others in one religious tradition, then proceed to throw out the baby with the bathwater, rejecting both the people who caused us harm and the religious tradition that they have tried, and possibly failed, to follow? So.... our religious experience becomes a function of someone else's religious experience? Are we then connecting with or searching for the Divine, or are we simply reacting to or perhaps painfully recoiling from, other humans?
In my mind, if one rejects religion, that's their choice, but in my mind, that choice is not ethically nor intellectually consistent with placing one's hopes, dreams, and/or expectations upon people who have not rejected religion. If you're "spiritual but not religious," and have decided religion's not for you, then it doesn't seem consistent to then use bits and pieces of those religious traditions to justify your position. If fire has burned me, I'm going to retreat from the fire, I'm not going to approach it for healing. Even if I'm cold, while I may want heat, it's unlikely I'm going to want to be near a fire, if a fire has previously burned me.
That's my thought, anyway, and I take that position because of my personal background. Reared in the church, I left it when, I felt, God answered a prayer that God knew I really didn't mean to pray. Headstrong, willful, and stubborn person that I am, it took me decades to submit and surrender to God's will in my life. Only when I realized that my way didn't work was I able to give up my way and try to do things God's way. But while I was away from the church, I was away from the church. (OK, except for the times that I returned home. Some habits die hard).
That's just my opinion. If you're hurt by the church, then either leave the church because of what the people did to you, or exercise your faith in God and try to find reconciliation. But to reject religion because of people and then to place expectations on people who have not rejected religion sounds immature, selfish and, yes, a bit boring. It's sort of like the child who's fascinated with a body part they've just discovered. It's fascinating to them, but not so much to someone who's familiar with the body part. Though the child may be cute....
But back to the work thing, and this sort of bears on the above conversation: I look around my apartment. Specifically, I'm trying to find a sim card cutter that I bought months ago. It's a tiny object, and between all the scattered papers, mail that needs sorting/shredding, bookcases overflowing onto the floor and assorted electronics -- all of which have their own intrinsic value -- in the midst of all that, I can't find my sim card cutter, which is what I'm looking for. I have lots of work to do to clear out the clutter so I can find that which I need.
That's how it is, IMHO, with our spiritual lives and with our physical lives. There are lots of forces, many of them admirable, out there competing for our time and attention. While I'll never be finished searching and seeking, it has been helpful for me to have an authority, outside my own head, to help with interpretation, application, and evaluation of my spiritual journey. That's my religious life. And while it may work for some to explore their notions of spirituality apart from a religious contextualization, that's not my testimony. In my world, ya gotta do the work.
Going full circle, this means that my schedule, my car, and the lack of parking in Manhattan are no longer viable excuses for not going to the gym. If I could make it there for years without wheels, then I'm probably a smart enough woman to figure out how to make it there now that I have wheels. It may take analyzing parking patterns around the Y, it may take paying yet another parking fee -- whatever it takes, is what it takes. I gotta do the work.
But while I've been working on the knee, I've been using that as an excuse to not do any other weight-bearing exercise (wise) or cardio (not wise). I swam some laps today. I'm an ok swimmer, but noticed that my timing, breathing, and endurance are off. Even before the workout was over I saw improvement, and I realized that I'm able to do more stretching and attain better knee flexibility in the water than I am on land.
But I also realize how much I needed to stay in the gym -- we don't do it because it's fun, we do it because we have to do it. By stopping, by failing to find some suitable alternative while my knee was healing (nothing was wrong with my upper body), I've set my whole program back. So far back that I may not attempt the climb up Mt. Sinai, something I'd been training for since last November.
Which led me to reflect on our spiritual lives. I posted an article on Facebook the other day that some people took issue with. The gist of the article was that people's spiritual lives are not shaped independently of a spiritual community, and that the communal accountability reinforces personal growth. It's like in the gym: I may do my individual routine, and I may make progress. But if I have no trainer and no workout buddy to hold me accountable, and if I decide to deviate from my program (or stop it altogether), I can lose ground, as was demonstrated to me this evening. Even when I'm working out, if I simply imitate some actions without understanding what their purpose is or how they're properly executed (in other words, if I try to go off on my own without proper teaching), then I can actually hurt myself. It's the same way with our spiritual lives. We can go off on a "spiritual, not religious" road if we like. But what then becomes our spiritual guide? Our self? Doesn't that sort of imply that there's no power greater than ourselves?
Do we take what we want from whatever religious traditions we've been exposed to and then leave the rest? Do we, because we've been hurt or felt rejection or have been unable to connect with others in one religious tradition, then proceed to throw out the baby with the bathwater, rejecting both the people who caused us harm and the religious tradition that they have tried, and possibly failed, to follow? So.... our religious experience becomes a function of someone else's religious experience? Are we then connecting with or searching for the Divine, or are we simply reacting to or perhaps painfully recoiling from, other humans?
In my mind, if one rejects religion, that's their choice, but in my mind, that choice is not ethically nor intellectually consistent with placing one's hopes, dreams, and/or expectations upon people who have not rejected religion. If you're "spiritual but not religious," and have decided religion's not for you, then it doesn't seem consistent to then use bits and pieces of those religious traditions to justify your position. If fire has burned me, I'm going to retreat from the fire, I'm not going to approach it for healing. Even if I'm cold, while I may want heat, it's unlikely I'm going to want to be near a fire, if a fire has previously burned me.
That's my thought, anyway, and I take that position because of my personal background. Reared in the church, I left it when, I felt, God answered a prayer that God knew I really didn't mean to pray. Headstrong, willful, and stubborn person that I am, it took me decades to submit and surrender to God's will in my life. Only when I realized that my way didn't work was I able to give up my way and try to do things God's way. But while I was away from the church, I was away from the church. (OK, except for the times that I returned home. Some habits die hard).
That's just my opinion. If you're hurt by the church, then either leave the church because of what the people did to you, or exercise your faith in God and try to find reconciliation. But to reject religion because of people and then to place expectations on people who have not rejected religion sounds immature, selfish and, yes, a bit boring. It's sort of like the child who's fascinated with a body part they've just discovered. It's fascinating to them, but not so much to someone who's familiar with the body part. Though the child may be cute....
But back to the work thing, and this sort of bears on the above conversation: I look around my apartment. Specifically, I'm trying to find a sim card cutter that I bought months ago. It's a tiny object, and between all the scattered papers, mail that needs sorting/shredding, bookcases overflowing onto the floor and assorted electronics -- all of which have their own intrinsic value -- in the midst of all that, I can't find my sim card cutter, which is what I'm looking for. I have lots of work to do to clear out the clutter so I can find that which I need.
That's how it is, IMHO, with our spiritual lives and with our physical lives. There are lots of forces, many of them admirable, out there competing for our time and attention. While I'll never be finished searching and seeking, it has been helpful for me to have an authority, outside my own head, to help with interpretation, application, and evaluation of my spiritual journey. That's my religious life. And while it may work for some to explore their notions of spirituality apart from a religious contextualization, that's not my testimony. In my world, ya gotta do the work.
Going full circle, this means that my schedule, my car, and the lack of parking in Manhattan are no longer viable excuses for not going to the gym. If I could make it there for years without wheels, then I'm probably a smart enough woman to figure out how to make it there now that I have wheels. It may take analyzing parking patterns around the Y, it may take paying yet another parking fee -- whatever it takes, is what it takes. I gotta do the work.
Monday, September 5, 2011
God, I thank YOU!!
A brief survey of my life suggests that there is much to be thankful for. I'm a cancer survivor. I no longer have diabetes. I am 100 lbs less than I used to be. I went ziplining in Central America, Camel Riding in the Middle East, white water rafting in the Pacuare River in South America, and jumped out of a plane and went skydiving. And that's just in the last 12 months! Oh, and I run a nonprofit which has gone from almost out of business to thriving, forwarding associations with others and planning for the future.
So yes, I give thanks to God, because none of this would be possible without God. Today is Labor Day, and I lay in bed all day long, vegetating, thinking about the goodness of Jesus, eating Lobster Salad and croissants when I felt like it; Chicken chili with croissants when i didn't feel like lobsters --- it's a good life I'm enjoying right now.
Right now, before I return to work on the block where a murder was just committed and where my staff are too invested in their own points of view to look up and see a more universal view -- right now i feel depressed, but must pull on my cloak of hope, and step into my shoes of progress, so that I can go along and continue to be a force that is effective at moving this agency -- and by extension, this neighborhood -- forward. I'd like to see us bring in some hard skills training programs, equip the people to earn a good day's pay instead of slinging dope and getting shot up all day -- equip the people and make them productive. That seems to be the way to go to me....
So how do we do that ? How do we break through to them? I don't know, but I'm gonna try....
Right after I go to bed, sleep it off, and get up again.
So yes, I give thanks to God, because none of this would be possible without God. Today is Labor Day, and I lay in bed all day long, vegetating, thinking about the goodness of Jesus, eating Lobster Salad and croissants when I felt like it; Chicken chili with croissants when i didn't feel like lobsters --- it's a good life I'm enjoying right now.
Right now, before I return to work on the block where a murder was just committed and where my staff are too invested in their own points of view to look up and see a more universal view -- right now i feel depressed, but must pull on my cloak of hope, and step into my shoes of progress, so that I can go along and continue to be a force that is effective at moving this agency -- and by extension, this neighborhood -- forward. I'd like to see us bring in some hard skills training programs, equip the people to earn a good day's pay instead of slinging dope and getting shot up all day -- equip the people and make them productive. That seems to be the way to go to me....
So how do we do that ? How do we break through to them? I don't know, but I'm gonna try....
Right after I go to bed, sleep it off, and get up again.