Yea! The days are getting longer! We’ve reached the winter solstice. December 21 marks the point in Earth’s annual trip around the sun where its tilt changes--and the days begin to get longer again!
I have realized that, more than the cold, more than the snow, more than anything about winter (well, maybe not the heating bills . . .), I hate that the sun goes down at 5 and doesn’t rise until 8 the next morning.
I am not the only one who celebrates the lengthening of days. In fact, it is the single most universal and ancient of celebrations. What I mean is, nearly every civilization since the beginning of recorded time has celebrated the winter solstice--Mayans, Native Americans, Persians, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and eventually, Europeans, whose traditions modern western societies have incorporated into their Christmas holidays.
Structures like the famous Stonehenge--and numerous others--are ancient, but precise, calendars marking the solstices, both winter and summer, as well as the equinoxes of spring and autumn.
The seasons were extremely important to the agricultural communities, and concerns for the food that ensured their survival was paramount. Early peoples were afraid of “the day the sun stood still,” fearing it would not bless them and their crops again. They also feared the forces of evil they believed ruled the dark. They pleaded with their gods to return the sun to the earth. They lit fires and candles in homage to the sun.
Many of these celebrations recognized a “reversal of order.” Feasts--often served by the masters to the slaves--marked the season, and criminals were pardoned. Presents were exchanged.
Homes were decorated with “powerful” evergreens for good luck. In Scandinavian countries, holly was hung around doors and windows to snag evil spirits trying to enter the buildings.
Mistletoe was especially magical. It was the sacred “Golden Bough” of the Druids and the Norse, and protected the Celts from evil. To Native Americans, it was the medicinal “All Heal.” And in Scandinavian tradition, soldiers meeting under it in the forest were obliged to observe a truce.
There was of course, practicality to many of these rites. The fires helped warm the people in winter, the feasts supplied extra fat reserves for the lean months ahead, and the celebrations provided recreation during a season that was slow--between harvest and planting--and dreary.
It is amazing how much of this holds true today. I guess the old adage, “the more things change, the more they stay the same” holds sway. The sun is still a symbol of rebirth and hope.
And so, even as winter descends, I will sip my hot cider (a remnant Romanian rite), content to bide my time and comforted by the knowledge that the days are getting longer--and spring is on the horizon.
*This post is another "oldie but goodie," pulled from the past to honor the rare full moon eclipse that occurred on this, 2010's, winter solstice. Alas, a view of the event, which is the first since 1638, was blocked by clouds in my neck of the woods. Another is not due again in my lifetime . . . .
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Is Our Democracy Dying? *
I’m disappointed with the current state of politics in the United States of America. Not because the candidates I've voted for have won or lost. Not because policies have, or have not, gone the way I think they should. I’m disappointed because, it seems to me, running the country has become a power game, and elections more a sport than a time to come together and decide the business of our government.
The very language used--horse race, winning team, point spread--turns them to game. The candidates come out “boasting” of their feats, and deriding the opponents’, posturing reminiscent of the mudslinging that precedes wrestling matches.
Commanding our government is not a wrestling match. In his letters, Thomas Jefferson states, "The equal rights of man, and the happiness of every individual, are now acknowledged to be the only legitimate objects of government." Since we, as the people, are the government, our job becomes to promote and ensure the liberty and opportunity of everyone--not ourselves, not the few, not even the majority, but all.
According to Jefferson, again, this is done, not through wrangling, but through honest pursuit of truth. He further contends that it is the expression of differing opinions that uncovers truth. "Difference of opinion leads to enquiry, and enquiry, truth,” he wrote to P. H. Wendover, in 1815. Uncovering truth means honest debate and honest discussion.
I do not hear that taking place. I hear a lot of positioning, I hear a lot of rhetoric, I hear a lot of buzzwords and sound bites. True discussion would have each person truly hearing and understanding others’ positions. True discussion would clarify the rhetoric and define the buzzwords. True debate would tell not just what, but how something could be accomplished. I believe true debate would bring us, not to a 51-49 split, but to general agreement.
Dr. Phil often asks people on his show: “Are you fighting to be right, or are you trying to resolve the issues?” I think, as a nation, we should ask ourselves the same question.
Our job is not to decide a winner, or even to choose the person who presents the best ideas. Our job is to figure out how best to safeguard the liberty and happiness of our citizenry. When we have done that, we send the person to the capital whom we deem best able to carry out our wishes.
In 1787, Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at The University of Edinburgh, made the statement: "A democracy is always temporary in nature . . . . A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship."
Tyler saw that each of the great civilizations of history followed a pattern “from bondage to spiritual faith; from spiritual faith to great courage; from courage to liberty; from liberty to abundance; from abundance to complacency; from complacency to apathy; from apathy to dependence; [and] from dependence back into bondage."
Our founding fathers thought Tyler was wrong. They had great faith in the human desire for justice, and in the human ability to reason. "If ever the earth has beheld a system of administration conducted with a single and steadfast eye to the general interest and happiness of those committed to it, one which, protected by truth, can never know reproach, it is that to which our lives have been devoted," wrote Jefferson to James Madison, in 1826.
It would be a shame to lay their work to waste, and to return to the bondage against which they revolted.
*In light of upcoming elections, I am reprising this essay. I think it still applies, not only to the United States' system, but to all democracies. My hope is that it will spur people to think about the purpose of government--and the part(s) they might play in achieving and maintaining a system that benefits everyone equitably.
The very language used--horse race, winning team, point spread--turns them to game. The candidates come out “boasting” of their feats, and deriding the opponents’, posturing reminiscent of the mudslinging that precedes wrestling matches.
Commanding our government is not a wrestling match. In his letters, Thomas Jefferson states, "The equal rights of man, and the happiness of every individual, are now acknowledged to be the only legitimate objects of government." Since we, as the people, are the government, our job becomes to promote and ensure the liberty and opportunity of everyone--not ourselves, not the few, not even the majority, but all.
According to Jefferson, again, this is done, not through wrangling, but through honest pursuit of truth. He further contends that it is the expression of differing opinions that uncovers truth. "Difference of opinion leads to enquiry, and enquiry, truth,” he wrote to P. H. Wendover, in 1815. Uncovering truth means honest debate and honest discussion.
I do not hear that taking place. I hear a lot of positioning, I hear a lot of rhetoric, I hear a lot of buzzwords and sound bites. True discussion would have each person truly hearing and understanding others’ positions. True discussion would clarify the rhetoric and define the buzzwords. True debate would tell not just what, but how something could be accomplished. I believe true debate would bring us, not to a 51-49 split, but to general agreement.
Dr. Phil often asks people on his show: “Are you fighting to be right, or are you trying to resolve the issues?” I think, as a nation, we should ask ourselves the same question.
Our job is not to decide a winner, or even to choose the person who presents the best ideas. Our job is to figure out how best to safeguard the liberty and happiness of our citizenry. When we have done that, we send the person to the capital whom we deem best able to carry out our wishes.
In 1787, Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at The University of Edinburgh, made the statement: "A democracy is always temporary in nature . . . . A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship."
Tyler saw that each of the great civilizations of history followed a pattern “from bondage to spiritual faith; from spiritual faith to great courage; from courage to liberty; from liberty to abundance; from abundance to complacency; from complacency to apathy; from apathy to dependence; [and] from dependence back into bondage."
Our founding fathers thought Tyler was wrong. They had great faith in the human desire for justice, and in the human ability to reason. "If ever the earth has beheld a system of administration conducted with a single and steadfast eye to the general interest and happiness of those committed to it, one which, protected by truth, can never know reproach, it is that to which our lives have been devoted," wrote Jefferson to James Madison, in 1826.
It would be a shame to lay their work to waste, and to return to the bondage against which they revolted.
*In light of upcoming elections, I am reprising this essay. I think it still applies, not only to the United States' system, but to all democracies. My hope is that it will spur people to think about the purpose of government--and the part(s) they might play in achieving and maintaining a system that benefits everyone equitably.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
A Tribute.
The first time I met my aunt Robyn, I thought she was the coolest woman I had ever met. She had a wicked sense of humor, and her laugh, while melodic, had a husky quality, with a hint of mischief. I was 14, she was 23. It was the early 70s, and she was a perfect blend of hippie and LA chic. Even her name, spelled with a "y" was cool. She had a flaming temper, though, and you truly never wanted to set that off (though it could be fun to watch when others did!).
Of course, she wasn’t my aunt then. She and my uncle were dating. She had accompanied him, from California to Arizona, to help my mother whose car’s engine had run dry of oil and seized. My uncle set up the appropriate repairs and then returned to California, with Robyn, and with me. It is one of those “times of your life” you never forget.
We left as the sun went down. It was summer and we had to cross the desert--something knowing folk don’t do under blazing sun. We made the trip in my uncle’s ‘63 Cadillac convertible. I can still feel that air as it hit my face and roared over and around my body the whole way. It was the sunburnt air of day being cooled by the ever so slight dampness that arises out of who knows where in the nighttime desert.
I don’t remember how long exactly I stayed with Robyn and my uncle in “the valley,” but it was long enough to change me forever. When I returned to my father’s home in Ohio, I put away my Bobby Sherman and Monkees records, and bought albums: Elton John’s Honky Chateau, the Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, and Cat Stevens’ Teaser and the Firecat. And, these were not played on my record player, but on my father’s stereo.
In time Robyn and my uncle did marry and there were other trips and vacations spent with them. There were visits to Malibu Beach, and Magic Mountain, and “the Strip.” The roughly ten year age gap between Robyn and I closed as I got older and we became less adult-teenager, and more adult-young adult, more pals. We did some crazy things--some things we shouldn’t have, some she wouldn’t have if not for me, but she rolled her eyes and giggled when we got away them. Maybe she was recalling her own not so long ago youth.
We did some serious things too. At one point, I decided I wanted to be a magazine editor, and since the magazine I knew best--and had recently “graduated” from--was TigerBeat, we called and made an appointment. She didn’t laugh at me, but instead donned professional attire and took me over the Hollywood Hills to the Highland Avenue office where the editor patiently showed us around her office and explained her routine.
It was also my Aunt Robyn who, as an executive secretary at Paramount Studios, took me around the grounds, popping into a taping of “Little House on the Prairie.” During a break, I met Michael Landon, who I still remember as gracious and kind. He had a ready smile, and a warm and generous handshake.
Eventually, my aunt and uncle went separate ways. I understood the divorce, but was still disappointed. Robyn and I stayed in touch at first. She took me to my first, and only, studio preview--where the studio shows the latest movie for employees. I don’t remember the movie, but I remember the “Wow!’ Aunt Robyn was still cool.
The last time I saw her, my mother and I met her for dinner somewhere off Sunset Boulevard. We sat outdoors, and the rest becomes a blur of mellow wine and laughter. I still hear her gentle laugh in my ear as she hugged me good-bye and kissed my neck. I was a bit annoyed when I found her lipstick on the collar of my satin blouse the next day. It took some doing to get it out. If I’d known this would be our final meeting, I might have just left it.
Earlier this year, Robyn was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors convinced her to try a round of chemotherapy. The treatment caused a stroke that left her unable to talk or eat--though my uncle told me they could sometimes hear her crying. They didn’t even try to save her, and instead let her starve to death. I do not understand this, but will save discussing the medical industry for later. She was 61. I regret I never told Robyn the impact she made on me, or how much she meant to me, how much I just plain liked her. I guess that’s just how things go. We take things for granted until we lose them--and all we have left are our memories.
Of course, she wasn’t my aunt then. She and my uncle were dating. She had accompanied him, from California to Arizona, to help my mother whose car’s engine had run dry of oil and seized. My uncle set up the appropriate repairs and then returned to California, with Robyn, and with me. It is one of those “times of your life” you never forget.
We left as the sun went down. It was summer and we had to cross the desert--something knowing folk don’t do under blazing sun. We made the trip in my uncle’s ‘63 Cadillac convertible. I can still feel that air as it hit my face and roared over and around my body the whole way. It was the sunburnt air of day being cooled by the ever so slight dampness that arises out of who knows where in the nighttime desert.
I don’t remember how long exactly I stayed with Robyn and my uncle in “the valley,” but it was long enough to change me forever. When I returned to my father’s home in Ohio, I put away my Bobby Sherman and Monkees records, and bought albums: Elton John’s Honky Chateau, the Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, and Cat Stevens’ Teaser and the Firecat. And, these were not played on my record player, but on my father’s stereo.
In time Robyn and my uncle did marry and there were other trips and vacations spent with them. There were visits to Malibu Beach, and Magic Mountain, and “the Strip.” The roughly ten year age gap between Robyn and I closed as I got older and we became less adult-teenager, and more adult-young adult, more pals. We did some crazy things--some things we shouldn’t have, some she wouldn’t have if not for me, but she rolled her eyes and giggled when we got away them. Maybe she was recalling her own not so long ago youth.
We did some serious things too. At one point, I decided I wanted to be a magazine editor, and since the magazine I knew best--and had recently “graduated” from--was TigerBeat, we called and made an appointment. She didn’t laugh at me, but instead donned professional attire and took me over the Hollywood Hills to the Highland Avenue office where the editor patiently showed us around her office and explained her routine.
It was also my Aunt Robyn who, as an executive secretary at Paramount Studios, took me around the grounds, popping into a taping of “Little House on the Prairie.” During a break, I met Michael Landon, who I still remember as gracious and kind. He had a ready smile, and a warm and generous handshake.
Eventually, my aunt and uncle went separate ways. I understood the divorce, but was still disappointed. Robyn and I stayed in touch at first. She took me to my first, and only, studio preview--where the studio shows the latest movie for employees. I don’t remember the movie, but I remember the “Wow!’ Aunt Robyn was still cool.
The last time I saw her, my mother and I met her for dinner somewhere off Sunset Boulevard. We sat outdoors, and the rest becomes a blur of mellow wine and laughter. I still hear her gentle laugh in my ear as she hugged me good-bye and kissed my neck. I was a bit annoyed when I found her lipstick on the collar of my satin blouse the next day. It took some doing to get it out. If I’d known this would be our final meeting, I might have just left it.
Earlier this year, Robyn was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors convinced her to try a round of chemotherapy. The treatment caused a stroke that left her unable to talk or eat--though my uncle told me they could sometimes hear her crying. They didn’t even try to save her, and instead let her starve to death. I do not understand this, but will save discussing the medical industry for later. She was 61. I regret I never told Robyn the impact she made on me, or how much she meant to me, how much I just plain liked her. I guess that’s just how things go. We take things for granted until we lose them--and all we have left are our memories.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
In Praise of Poetry
April is National Poetry Month, and so, before the month is through, I want to share a couple of my favorites. Both are by e. e. cummings, a writer known for his unconventional punctuation and syntax. Many people are confused by his works--myself included at times. I think he did this on purpose to challenge his reader, and to make them work for the interpretation--to make them invest themselves, and at the same time to make them let themselves go and just intuit the meaning--a sort of “free association” of words, images, emotions, and thoughts.
The first poem is “the greedy the people,” the second is “dive for dreams.” Happy spring!
the greedy the people
the greedy the people
(as if as can yes)
they steal and they buy
and they die for because
though the bell in the steeple
says Why
the chary the wary
(as all as can each)
they don't and they do
and they turn to a which
though the moon in her glory
says Who
the busy the millions
(as you're as can i'm)
they flock and they flee
through a thunder of seem
though the stars in their silence
say Be
the cunning the craven
(as think as can feel)
they when and they how
and they live for until
though the sun in his heaven
says Now
the timid the tender
(as doubt as can trust)
they work and they pray
and they bow to a must
though the earth in her splendor
says May
dive for dreams
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at this wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
The first poem is “the greedy the people,” the second is “dive for dreams.” Happy spring!
the greedy the people
the greedy the people
(as if as can yes)
they steal and they buy
and they die for because
though the bell in the steeple
says Why
the chary the wary
(as all as can each)
they don't and they do
and they turn to a which
though the moon in her glory
says Who
the busy the millions
(as you're as can i'm)
they flock and they flee
through a thunder of seem
though the stars in their silence
say Be
the cunning the craven
(as think as can feel)
they when and they how
and they live for until
though the sun in his heaven
says Now
the timid the tender
(as doubt as can trust)
they work and they pray
and they bow to a must
though the earth in her splendor
says May
dive for dreams
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at this wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
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