From the Washington Post:
Median house-hold income in the District, 1980:
White people: $55,000.00
Black people: $34,700.00
Hispanics: $32,000.00
Median house-hold income in the District, 2006:
White people: $92,000.00
Black people: $34,500.00
Hispanis: $44,000.00
That's a $37,000 increase for white folk and $200 decrease for black folk. A $12,000 increase for Hispanics. If you are a black DC resident, you likely make $57,100 less than a white DC resident.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Anthropology, l'Arche and consumer culture...
The intersection of religion and economy has interested me for quite some time, from my days as a devoted patron of the Family Christian Bookstores, to Mrs. Suddeth's 9th grade English class when we learned the manipulative methods of media advertising, to my love affair with Max Weber my junior year of college, to my final Sociology thesis, titled, "Religion as Commodity: Capitalism and the Transformation of the Religious Life." [If given the chance, I would rename it, "Consumer Culture and the Transformation of the Religious Life"; my War Against Capitalism that I waged my later years of college stalemated when I went to post-Communist Romania and saw the desperate need for small-business enterprises in the severally depressed Jui Valley. That's another conversation.]
Another interesting intersection is that of anthropology (the study of the human person) and religion. What does the Judeo-Christian story say about being human? What does Jesus' humanity say about our own humanity? What about the disabled, the "feeble-minded", those broken in body? Last year, the North American Zone of l'Arche held a big anthropology conference where assistants, leaders, core members, and scholars (sociologists, theologians, anthropologists) gathered together to discuss the "Anthropology of Becoming Human." The overall question at this conference was, "What am I discovering and learning from my experience in community in l'Arche about what it means to be human and about what it means to grow towards becoming human?" This is what they came up with:
In a nutshell, becoming fully human involves mutuality of relationships, acceptance of our fragility and the fragility of others, and recognition of each human being as uniquely gifted and uniquely limited. This happens in community. L'Arche is one of these. So are family, marriage, friendship, the Church, our churches. In these places, we can experience the life fully human, as God intends.
Now, when we think about the intersection of anthropology and the Market, all hell breaks lose, for the anthropology of l'Arche (and I would argue the Judeo-Christian narrative as a whole) is so at odds with the anthropology dictated by our consumer culture. More importantly, this consumer culture in which we are imbedded does not discriminate between the sacred and secular. All sectors of our lives are subject to mass market consumerism. It is the iron cage. It is the pandemic disease. The quicker we accept this to be true the quicker we can address how and to what degree we are affected.
What is the anthropology of consumer culture? How has the economy shaped our understanding of human beings? Along with religious and philosophical expression, the human person becomes herself a commodity, an object to be bought and sold, as a means to an end rather than end in and of herself. She is valued solely for her appearance and status, he for his ability to produce or compete, they for their ability to consume and be consumed. The market, rather than the person, becomes the mechanism for dictating and transmitting beliefs and behaviors. What is most profitable and cost-effective becomes paramount, rather than what is most desirable for the human person. The anthropology of consumer culture overemphasizes autonomy and individualism (to the point of utilitarianism, life boat ethics, etc) and deemphasizes the common good. Within consumer culture, to be human is to be fundamentally inadequate. Wholeness can only be achieved through the consumption of goods (this car, this cell phone, this perfume, this beer, this plane ticket). Media advertising is saturated with this message. In fact, we're all pretty much drowning in it.
The anthropology of our market culture is diametrically opposed to the anthropology of l'Arche, as lived and taught by Jesus. Where one values humans beings solely and entirely for their humanity, the other values only those persons who can consume (those with capital) or produce (those young enough, smart enough, and healthy enough to hold down jobs). It is no wonder why the poorest of the poor in our nation are below the age of 18 and above the age of 65, disabled, whether socially (as with non-English speaking immigrants, widows, etc) or physically (as with genetic maladies, substance addictions, or wounded veterans) and intellectually (as with the mentally retarded, those deprived of education resources or access, etc), and those who've been historically marginalized (as with people of color, women, those with alternative sexual orientations, etc).
Consumer culture tells us that we aren't good enough, strong enough, safe enough, happy enough, sexy enough, holy enough lest we consume. In fact, the term used for the developmentally disabled in most MRDDA sectors (day programs, residential homes, etc) is 'consumers.' Their consumption of the services provided by the State or County merits their worth - they are consumers of care and assistance. How many of us consider ourselves "consumers" of our parents' care, our spouses' love, our friends' companionship? My relationship with my friends and family is not one based on economic reciprocity or service provision but of mutual love and respect. The developmentally disabled (along with other vulnerable populations) often do not have the luxury of these relationships. They will live most of their lives with no choice but to consume their relationships; "professionals" such as counselors in group homes, case managers, staff members at work, respite workers are all paid to be present - generally, these professionals make up 99% of the DD person's social world.
To value the lives and stories of the developmentally disabled, to accept each individual as they uniquely are, to provide a place for people regardless of race, sex, creed, and ability to enter into relationship with one another is indeed prophetic in the society in which we live. Through its mere humble existence in this self and stuff-obsessed culture, l’Arche (like any other prophetic sign) is waging war against the mendacity that is consumer-dependent human worth. When society tells us to buy more, l’Arche tells us to live more simply. When society tells us we are worthless, l’Arche tells us we are created and loved by God. When society tells us we must be strong, l’Arche tells us we are fragile and in need of friendship. When society tells us we are only as special as the things we consume, l’Arche tells us we are each uniquely gifted. L’Arche here is, essentially, doing the work of the Church, the work of Jesus. L’Arche is no solution, but it is a sign, a way to live out the Kingdom which is here on Earth.
There are countless other acts of Christian resistance to the Empire of Consumer Culture occurring all around us - a family adopting a special needs child, the parish advocating for the rights of rural farm workers, the college students teaching ESL to recent immigrants, the woman caring for her elderly neighbor, the doctor providing free services to low-income families, the businesswoman who builds homes for Habitat Humanity on her weekends, the pastor who visits inmates in the local correctional facility, the youth group members who befriend some homeless men downtown. These acts are counter-cultural in that they illuminate the value of human life beyond what that human life can consume or produce. These acts signify our interrelatedness, the connectedness that we share with one another because of our common humanity. Through our relationships with one another, we are made whole - more fully human. This is the anthropology of the Church.
I wrote a paper last year entitled, “You in Me and I in You: The Role of Community in the Formation of the Authentic Self.” The last few paragraphs tend to sum up well what I think a good anthropology looks like for us as Christians and as human beings. ---
“When I speak of the Self in “relationship” or “community” with others, I do so theoretically: one human being interacting with another, and as a result, both being made whole, giving and receiving mutually. But in actuality, as most of us can attest, being in relationship is rarely this simple. In fact, to extend one’s self to another can be terribly painful. The child must leave home. The student must graduate. The grandparent must pass away. Those whom we love will wound us, and we will wound them in return, however intentionally or unintentionally. Our hearts bear the scars of failed friendships, broken marriages, and wrecked families.
"The Genesis creation myth -- a story of shattered relationships-- has shaped our understanding of each other and the world for thousands of years. The story begins with God bringing forth all of Creation, Earth and Sky, Land and Water, Flora and Fauna. In the Garden of Eden, He creates Adam from the mud of the earth, and seeing that it was not good for man to be alone, He creates Eve from Adam’s rib. In this way, Adam, Eve, and the Earth are made from the same substance and, therefore, share a common unity. This knowledge of interrelatedness allows for Adam and Eve to live in harmony with Creation and their Creator. But through an act of disobedience, this harmony is broken. Humanity becomes estranged from the earth, from each other, and from God the Creator. Adam, Eve, and all of their descendents, are destined to live out the rest of their days attempting to recover the unity they had once experienced in the Garden, when God, Man, and Earth were joined together, interdependent and intimately related.
"Our post-Edenic world is no longer characterized by common unity but by division. Ethnic genocide, misogyny, classism, terrorism, racism, jihad, nuclear proliferation, environmental degradation, are all signs of Creation warring against itself. We have lost the ability to recognize our essential oneness and, instead, have become fixated on that which makes us different from one another. We are strangers, seduced by sectarianism and individualism. And yet, we carry with us the sneaking suspicion that we are somehow not strangers. Some distant, hazy memory we share tells us that, perhaps, we may have been friends in some other time or place.
"As human beings, we are creatures of memory. We carry with us the stories of our past victories and failures, of our union and divorce. Like the Genesis myth, our memory informs us of that which once was, but no longer is. It provides us with a sense of loss, of dissatisfaction with the present reality. But we as human beings are also creatures of hope, capable of envisioning a world far greater than our own. Even as we hurt one another, we seek one another's company. Even with the anguish of miscarriage still fresh, we risk pregnancy again. Even as countless marriages fail around us, we recite our solemn vows. We enter into relationship with one another both tentatively, our memories guiding us, and willingly, our hope enabling us to write a different story.
"What is this story but one both ancient and new - the story of interrelatedness. Consider the words of Hildegarde of Bingen: “God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else” (Fox 279). God, the Creator of all, has crafted the universe as interdependent, where one creation sustains another, where the actions of one affect the well-being of another. When Jesus says, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me,” he is acknowledging this interrelatedness -- to extend yourself to the Other is to extend yourself to God. In fact, according to the teachings of Jesus, there is no Other; every person is neighbor, friend, sister and brother. The lines between Self and group are blurred. We are members of a common Humanity, fit together as pieces of a puzzle, each “members of mankind” (Merton, No Man… xxii).
"Evolutionary science no longer allows us the option to deny our relatedness to other human beings. As humans, we originate from a single common ancestor -- the evidence is stamped upon the DNA of each person on earth. Not only that, we as earthly creations -- animals, plants, and minerals -- carry within our atoms the same substances that make up the stars in heaven. This earth which we call home was one of billions of planets brought forth into being during the Big Bang, entire universes forming out of one tiny, dense particle. To talk of Human against Nature, Man against Woman, Self against Other, is to create false dichotomies between intimately related entities. We need only remember our origin to become aware of our common unity with Creation.
"To acknowledge our interdependence is to remember life in the Garden, before the lie of “separateness” seeped into our consciousness. We are, in a sense, recovering our wholeness, our authentic Selfhood, when we recognize the interdependent aspects of our existences. As Thomas Merton states, “to live in communion, in genuine dialogue with others is absolutely necessary if man is to remain human” (Merton, New Seeds…, 55). When we discover who we truly are, in all authenticity, the distinctions between “you” and “I” begin to fade. As we remember our origins, we realize that we were birthed from the same womb of humanity, and that you are actually my sister and my companion, uniquely created but intimately related to my very being. With this knowledge, you and I can authentically coexist in community as separate beings made whole through relationship. Frederick Buechner eloquently articulates this understanding of Self and community when he states:
“You begin to understand that in some way your deepest self is the self of all men -- that you are in them and they are in you. You begin to understand not as an ideal but as a reality, an experience, that their pain is your pain, their need your need; that there can really be no getting ahead at their expense, there can be no joy for you until there is joy for them.” (23)
Another interesting intersection is that of anthropology (the study of the human person) and religion. What does the Judeo-Christian story say about being human? What does Jesus' humanity say about our own humanity? What about the disabled, the "feeble-minded", those broken in body? Last year, the North American Zone of l'Arche held a big anthropology conference where assistants, leaders, core members, and scholars (sociologists, theologians, anthropologists) gathered together to discuss the "Anthropology of Becoming Human." The overall question at this conference was, "What am I discovering and learning from my experience in community in l'Arche about what it means to be human and about what it means to grow towards becoming human?" This is what they came up with:
*Human beings have a profound desire and drive not just to survive but to thrive, to have life in abundance.
*We thrive, not by accumulating more or by creating complexity, but by learning to enter into life's simple moments.
*You cannot thrive as a human being without finding a way to accept human weakness, your own and others.
*We cannot expect people to accept weakness outside the context of a community capable of embracing them in their weakness.
In a nutshell, becoming fully human involves mutuality of relationships, acceptance of our fragility and the fragility of others, and recognition of each human being as uniquely gifted and uniquely limited. This happens in community. L'Arche is one of these. So are family, marriage, friendship, the Church, our churches. In these places, we can experience the life fully human, as God intends.
Now, when we think about the intersection of anthropology and the Market, all hell breaks lose, for the anthropology of l'Arche (and I would argue the Judeo-Christian narrative as a whole) is so at odds with the anthropology dictated by our consumer culture. More importantly, this consumer culture in which we are imbedded does not discriminate between the sacred and secular. All sectors of our lives are subject to mass market consumerism. It is the iron cage. It is the pandemic disease. The quicker we accept this to be true the quicker we can address how and to what degree we are affected.
What is the anthropology of consumer culture? How has the economy shaped our understanding of human beings? Along with religious and philosophical expression, the human person becomes herself a commodity, an object to be bought and sold, as a means to an end rather than end in and of herself. She is valued solely for her appearance and status, he for his ability to produce or compete, they for their ability to consume and be consumed. The market, rather than the person, becomes the mechanism for dictating and transmitting beliefs and behaviors. What is most profitable and cost-effective becomes paramount, rather than what is most desirable for the human person. The anthropology of consumer culture overemphasizes autonomy and individualism (to the point of utilitarianism, life boat ethics, etc) and deemphasizes the common good. Within consumer culture, to be human is to be fundamentally inadequate. Wholeness can only be achieved through the consumption of goods (this car, this cell phone, this perfume, this beer, this plane ticket). Media advertising is saturated with this message. In fact, we're all pretty much drowning in it.
The anthropology of our market culture is diametrically opposed to the anthropology of l'Arche, as lived and taught by Jesus. Where one values humans beings solely and entirely for their humanity, the other values only those persons who can consume (those with capital) or produce (those young enough, smart enough, and healthy enough to hold down jobs). It is no wonder why the poorest of the poor in our nation are below the age of 18 and above the age of 65, disabled, whether socially (as with non-English speaking immigrants, widows, etc) or physically (as with genetic maladies, substance addictions, or wounded veterans) and intellectually (as with the mentally retarded, those deprived of education resources or access, etc), and those who've been historically marginalized (as with people of color, women, those with alternative sexual orientations, etc).
Consumer culture tells us that we aren't good enough, strong enough, safe enough, happy enough, sexy enough, holy enough lest we consume. In fact, the term used for the developmentally disabled in most MRDDA sectors (day programs, residential homes, etc) is 'consumers.' Their consumption of the services provided by the State or County merits their worth - they are consumers of care and assistance. How many of us consider ourselves "consumers" of our parents' care, our spouses' love, our friends' companionship? My relationship with my friends and family is not one based on economic reciprocity or service provision but of mutual love and respect. The developmentally disabled (along with other vulnerable populations) often do not have the luxury of these relationships. They will live most of their lives with no choice but to consume their relationships; "professionals" such as counselors in group homes, case managers, staff members at work, respite workers are all paid to be present - generally, these professionals make up 99% of the DD person's social world.
To value the lives and stories of the developmentally disabled, to accept each individual as they uniquely are, to provide a place for people regardless of race, sex, creed, and ability to enter into relationship with one another is indeed prophetic in the society in which we live. Through its mere humble existence in this self and stuff-obsessed culture, l’Arche (like any other prophetic sign) is waging war against the mendacity that is consumer-dependent human worth. When society tells us to buy more, l’Arche tells us to live more simply. When society tells us we are worthless, l’Arche tells us we are created and loved by God. When society tells us we must be strong, l’Arche tells us we are fragile and in need of friendship. When society tells us we are only as special as the things we consume, l’Arche tells us we are each uniquely gifted. L’Arche here is, essentially, doing the work of the Church, the work of Jesus. L’Arche is no solution, but it is a sign, a way to live out the Kingdom which is here on Earth.
There are countless other acts of Christian resistance to the Empire of Consumer Culture occurring all around us - a family adopting a special needs child, the parish advocating for the rights of rural farm workers, the college students teaching ESL to recent immigrants, the woman caring for her elderly neighbor, the doctor providing free services to low-income families, the businesswoman who builds homes for Habitat Humanity on her weekends, the pastor who visits inmates in the local correctional facility, the youth group members who befriend some homeless men downtown. These acts are counter-cultural in that they illuminate the value of human life beyond what that human life can consume or produce. These acts signify our interrelatedness, the connectedness that we share with one another because of our common humanity. Through our relationships with one another, we are made whole - more fully human. This is the anthropology of the Church.
I wrote a paper last year entitled, “You in Me and I in You: The Role of Community in the Formation of the Authentic Self.” The last few paragraphs tend to sum up well what I think a good anthropology looks like for us as Christians and as human beings. ---
“When I speak of the Self in “relationship” or “community” with others, I do so theoretically: one human being interacting with another, and as a result, both being made whole, giving and receiving mutually. But in actuality, as most of us can attest, being in relationship is rarely this simple. In fact, to extend one’s self to another can be terribly painful. The child must leave home. The student must graduate. The grandparent must pass away. Those whom we love will wound us, and we will wound them in return, however intentionally or unintentionally. Our hearts bear the scars of failed friendships, broken marriages, and wrecked families.
"The Genesis creation myth -- a story of shattered relationships-- has shaped our understanding of each other and the world for thousands of years. The story begins with God bringing forth all of Creation, Earth and Sky, Land and Water, Flora and Fauna. In the Garden of Eden, He creates Adam from the mud of the earth, and seeing that it was not good for man to be alone, He creates Eve from Adam’s rib. In this way, Adam, Eve, and the Earth are made from the same substance and, therefore, share a common unity. This knowledge of interrelatedness allows for Adam and Eve to live in harmony with Creation and their Creator. But through an act of disobedience, this harmony is broken. Humanity becomes estranged from the earth, from each other, and from God the Creator. Adam, Eve, and all of their descendents, are destined to live out the rest of their days attempting to recover the unity they had once experienced in the Garden, when God, Man, and Earth were joined together, interdependent and intimately related.
"Our post-Edenic world is no longer characterized by common unity but by division. Ethnic genocide, misogyny, classism, terrorism, racism, jihad, nuclear proliferation, environmental degradation, are all signs of Creation warring against itself. We have lost the ability to recognize our essential oneness and, instead, have become fixated on that which makes us different from one another. We are strangers, seduced by sectarianism and individualism. And yet, we carry with us the sneaking suspicion that we are somehow not strangers. Some distant, hazy memory we share tells us that, perhaps, we may have been friends in some other time or place.
"As human beings, we are creatures of memory. We carry with us the stories of our past victories and failures, of our union and divorce. Like the Genesis myth, our memory informs us of that which once was, but no longer is. It provides us with a sense of loss, of dissatisfaction with the present reality. But we as human beings are also creatures of hope, capable of envisioning a world far greater than our own. Even as we hurt one another, we seek one another's company. Even with the anguish of miscarriage still fresh, we risk pregnancy again. Even as countless marriages fail around us, we recite our solemn vows. We enter into relationship with one another both tentatively, our memories guiding us, and willingly, our hope enabling us to write a different story.
"What is this story but one both ancient and new - the story of interrelatedness. Consider the words of Hildegarde of Bingen: “God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else” (Fox 279). God, the Creator of all, has crafted the universe as interdependent, where one creation sustains another, where the actions of one affect the well-being of another. When Jesus says, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me,” he is acknowledging this interrelatedness -- to extend yourself to the Other is to extend yourself to God. In fact, according to the teachings of Jesus, there is no Other; every person is neighbor, friend, sister and brother. The lines between Self and group are blurred. We are members of a common Humanity, fit together as pieces of a puzzle, each “members of mankind” (Merton, No Man… xxii).
"Evolutionary science no longer allows us the option to deny our relatedness to other human beings. As humans, we originate from a single common ancestor -- the evidence is stamped upon the DNA of each person on earth. Not only that, we as earthly creations -- animals, plants, and minerals -- carry within our atoms the same substances that make up the stars in heaven. This earth which we call home was one of billions of planets brought forth into being during the Big Bang, entire universes forming out of one tiny, dense particle. To talk of Human against Nature, Man against Woman, Self against Other, is to create false dichotomies between intimately related entities. We need only remember our origin to become aware of our common unity with Creation.
"To acknowledge our interdependence is to remember life in the Garden, before the lie of “separateness” seeped into our consciousness. We are, in a sense, recovering our wholeness, our authentic Selfhood, when we recognize the interdependent aspects of our existences. As Thomas Merton states, “to live in communion, in genuine dialogue with others is absolutely necessary if man is to remain human” (Merton, New Seeds…, 55). When we discover who we truly are, in all authenticity, the distinctions between “you” and “I” begin to fade. As we remember our origins, we realize that we were birthed from the same womb of humanity, and that you are actually my sister and my companion, uniquely created but intimately related to my very being. With this knowledge, you and I can authentically coexist in community as separate beings made whole through relationship. Frederick Buechner eloquently articulates this understanding of Self and community when he states:
“You begin to understand that in some way your deepest self is the self of all men -- that you are in them and they are in you. You begin to understand not as an ideal but as a reality, an experience, that their pain is your pain, their need your need; that there can really be no getting ahead at their expense, there can be no joy for you until there is joy for them.” (23)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
I'm not sure how else to put this but...
today, Terrence and I were on the front porch talking business, until something in the road caught his eye: running towards us was....a flock of squirrels. It was a strange, almost transcendent experience, seeing these 5 grey squirrels, 4 were babies, running towards us. I wasn't sure whether to run into the house screaming, or allow them to fashion a dress for me for the upcoming ball (that was a Cinderella reference). When the mother jumped, her babies would jump. When she waved her tail about, so would her babies. When she crawled up the tree trunk, her babies followed her, one by one, so we could see this spiral of squirrels winding up the tree. And there they stayed. I waited for them to come down and do some other awe-inspiring, synchronized act. But they stayed in the tree, where their mother scolded them for running in front of cars. I've seen ducklings paddling closely behind their mother. But never squirrels. It was truly awesome.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Interesting facts about where I live (and have lived)...
Courtesy of Wikipedia...
*Due to the political and economic differences between Northern Virginia and the rest of the commonwealth, some secessionist sentiments have emerged with those persons wishing that the area could become the separate state of "North Virginia."
*Since the 2000 census, both Loudoun and Fairfax counties are the top two large Highest-income counties in the United States by median household income.
*Arlington is center of the largest Bolivian community in North America (mostly immigrants from Cochabamba).
*Originally part of the District of Columbia, the land now comprising the county was retroceded to Virginia in a July 9, 1846 act of Congress that took effect in 1847.
*Arlington was ranked as the most educated city (percentage of residents with graduate degrees) in 2006 by CNN Money.
*Arlington is the smallest self-governing county in the United States.
*Northern Virginia is also home to one of the largest African immigrant populations in America, with significant numbers of Nigerians, Ethiopians, Eritreans, Somalians, and Ghanaians.
*Northern Virginia suffers from severe road congestion. The congestion consistently ranks with Los Angeles and San Francisco, California as one of the worst three areas in the nation. Workers from these outlying counties face daily commutes that exceed well over an hour each way.
*Allen's sole wins in Northern Virginia were the cities of Manassas and Manassas Park, winning the latter two only by the razor-thin margins of 298 votes and 47 votes, respectively.
*Manassas gained notoriety in 1993 as the hometown of John and Lorena Bobbitt, even though they resided outside the city and closer to the city of Manassas Park.[1] Their separate trials (John Wayne Bobbitt's for rape, Lorena Bobbitt's for malicious wounding) occurred at the Prince William County courthouse, which is in the city of Manassas.
*Due to the political and economic differences between Northern Virginia and the rest of the commonwealth, some secessionist sentiments have emerged with those persons wishing that the area could become the separate state of "North Virginia."
*Since the 2000 census, both Loudoun and Fairfax counties are the top two large Highest-income counties in the United States by median household income.
*Arlington is center of the largest Bolivian community in North America (mostly immigrants from Cochabamba).
*Originally part of the District of Columbia, the land now comprising the county was retroceded to Virginia in a July 9, 1846 act of Congress that took effect in 1847.
*Arlington was ranked as the most educated city (percentage of residents with graduate degrees) in 2006 by CNN Money.
*Arlington is the smallest self-governing county in the United States.
*Northern Virginia is also home to one of the largest African immigrant populations in America, with significant numbers of Nigerians, Ethiopians, Eritreans, Somalians, and Ghanaians.
*Northern Virginia suffers from severe road congestion. The congestion consistently ranks with Los Angeles and San Francisco, California as one of the worst three areas in the nation. Workers from these outlying counties face daily commutes that exceed well over an hour each way.
*Allen's sole wins in Northern Virginia were the cities of Manassas and Manassas Park, winning the latter two only by the razor-thin margins of 298 votes and 47 votes, respectively.
*Manassas gained notoriety in 1993 as the hometown of John and Lorena Bobbitt, even though they resided outside the city and closer to the city of Manassas Park.[1] Their separate trials (John Wayne Bobbitt's for rape, Lorena Bobbitt's for malicious wounding) occurred at the Prince William County courthouse, which is in the city of Manassas.
Aging parents and the disabled...
Holy shit. In the third paragraph, it reads, "The life expectancy of a Down syndrome child in the 1930s was less than 10 years. Today, it is nearly 60." Wow. This blows my mind. FS is 46. Anyway, interesting article on developmentally disabled baby boomers and their aging parents. A major issue for a mostly invisible population.
Longer life for mentally disabled brings complications
Chicago Tribune
September 23, 2007
Josephine Grabowski did not expect, at age 86, to be pulling herself precariously out of her wheelchair to change her son's soiled bedsheets.
In fact, she did not expect her son Frankie, now 48, to be alive at all. When her son was born, Grabowski's doctor informed her that "Mongoloid" children like hers did not live past their teens.
But as medicine advanced and home care improved, thousands of developmentally disabled baby boomers like Frankie Grabowski are outliving their elderly parents for the first time. The life expectancy of a Down syndrome child in the 1930s was less than 10 years. Today, it is nearly 60.
Nationally, there are 682,000 people 60 and older with developmental disabilities, and that is expected to double to 1.3 million by 2030, according to researchers at the University of Illinois-Chicago.
"It's an incredibly bleak picture," said Charlotte Cronin, executive director of the Family Support Network of Illinois, a statewide grass-roots advocacy group. "This person with significant disabilities - all they know is mom or dad. That's all they've ever known. And they can't talk, or the information they share makes no sense" to others.
For this reason, Josephine Grabowski's biggest hope today is that she outlives her son - a hope that teetered last week as she entered a hospital, suffering a bad reaction to antibiotics she took for a bladder infection. She predicts her son will fall into deep despair if she dies before he does.
"I know no matter how good the nursing home is, they won't do for him like I do," she said in a voice congested and weak from fighting a cold. "He will die from a broken heart and loneliness."
Although the doctor recommended the Grabowskis put their son into an institution, she and her late husband, Jerome, decided they would care for him in their modest home in aChicago suburb. Now, Josephine Grabowski, with severe arthritis, congestive heart failure and painful fluid buildup in her legs, is still her son's primary caretaker.
"We are looking at a terrible financial hardship for parents," said Dr. David Braddock, Coleman-Turner chair and professor in psychiatry at the University of Colorado School of Medicine. He was the founding head of the Department of Disability and Human Development at the University of Illinois at Chicago. "It's a very daunting thing - to have to be a caretaker when you yourself might need support.
"This is a challenge that is going to grow for older caretakers in our society as our nation ages. It's going to affect virtually all developed nations in the world."
But Josephine Grabowski said she does not regret deciding to care for Frankie herself.
Their home is dotted with lacy curtains and family portraits that point to happier times, including a shot of Frankie beaming in a suit and tie after his First Communion.
In his those days, Frankie would spend hours holding a battery-powered radio to his ear, set to a station as fond of Lawrence Welk as he was. He would giggle as he chased after plastic balls in the house. On sunny days, he would sit on the front steps and wave to neighbors.
Several afternoons each week, mother and son would drive to a McDonald's for a hamburger and fries drenched in ketchup. Frankie held court in the restaurant, shaking hands with staff and customers. At the grocery store, he would try to hug and kiss the cashiers in the check-out line.
When he napped during the day, his mother would head to her garden, where she would lose herself as she pulled weeds and tended her flowers.
"I was just a housewife," she said. "I took care of my family."
In a similar spirit, Terri Coglianese, 70, has cared for her younger brother, Charles "Titos" Sanchez, 69, ever since their parents died in the early 1960s. Sanchez, too, has Down syndrome.
"We would never put him in an institution," she said, tearing up. "He's my baby."
But his care became increasingly complicated over the years, first with the loss of sight in one eye, then after he fractured his hip in December. Sanchez must now wear diapers, he was no teeth and he is terrified of getting out of bed.
Family members say he "understands everything," but his communication skills are limited. It took his loved ones a week to realize he had a fracture because Sanchez never complained about the pain. He simply refused to walk.
For now, Sanchez remains bedridden in a nursing home in Park Ridge. Coglianese, who works full-time as a human resources administrator, plans to take him home once he regains his mobility.
"You are going to walk, right Titos?" Coglianese said softly to her brother in Spanish.
"Si!" he answered brightly.
To be sure, not all adults with disabilities face the same sort of challenges Grabowski and Sanchez face. Braddock said the vast majority of people born with Down syndrome today, assuming access to treatment, service and support, experience mild to moderate cognitive disability.
"They are able to live a productive life," he said.
But Josephine Grabowski's day-to-day life offers a glimpse of how precarious care arrangements can be - even with outside medical and social service assistance. She or a part-time nursing assistant changes Frankie Grabowski's bedsheets an average of 18 times a day. Late last fall, he developed a toothache. Unable to express what was wrong, he banged his head against the wall for hours, leaving marks. His mother arranged for him to be sedated and carried to a dental clinic by ambulance. He had to have four teeth extracted.
Still, with the help of Jenny Howard, a social worker from the Adult Down Syndrome Center at Advocate Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge, Grabowski has come up with a plan for Frankie's care. She has signed the necessary paperwork so that her son will move to a nursing home when she dies.
Two years ago this August, Josephine had a heart attack as she walked to her bedroom one night from the washroom. An older son staying at her house was able to get her help, and today she describes her heart attack in almost-glowing terms.
"I felt peaceful," she said of her five-day stay at Our Lady of Resurrection Medical Center. "It felt so good, just sleeping. If this is the way it is when you die, I'm not scared. I'll catch up on 48 years of needing sleep."
Longer life for mentally disabled brings complications
Chicago Tribune
September 23, 2007
Josephine Grabowski did not expect, at age 86, to be pulling herself precariously out of her wheelchair to change her son's soiled bedsheets.
In fact, she did not expect her son Frankie, now 48, to be alive at all. When her son was born, Grabowski's doctor informed her that "Mongoloid" children like hers did not live past their teens.
But as medicine advanced and home care improved, thousands of developmentally disabled baby boomers like Frankie Grabowski are outliving their elderly parents for the first time. The life expectancy of a Down syndrome child in the 1930s was less than 10 years. Today, it is nearly 60.
Nationally, there are 682,000 people 60 and older with developmental disabilities, and that is expected to double to 1.3 million by 2030, according to researchers at the University of Illinois-Chicago.
"It's an incredibly bleak picture," said Charlotte Cronin, executive director of the Family Support Network of Illinois, a statewide grass-roots advocacy group. "This person with significant disabilities - all they know is mom or dad. That's all they've ever known. And they can't talk, or the information they share makes no sense" to others.
For this reason, Josephine Grabowski's biggest hope today is that she outlives her son - a hope that teetered last week as she entered a hospital, suffering a bad reaction to antibiotics she took for a bladder infection. She predicts her son will fall into deep despair if she dies before he does.
"I know no matter how good the nursing home is, they won't do for him like I do," she said in a voice congested and weak from fighting a cold. "He will die from a broken heart and loneliness."
Although the doctor recommended the Grabowskis put their son into an institution, she and her late husband, Jerome, decided they would care for him in their modest home in aChicago suburb. Now, Josephine Grabowski, with severe arthritis, congestive heart failure and painful fluid buildup in her legs, is still her son's primary caretaker.
"We are looking at a terrible financial hardship for parents," said Dr. David Braddock, Coleman-Turner chair and professor in psychiatry at the University of Colorado School of Medicine. He was the founding head of the Department of Disability and Human Development at the University of Illinois at Chicago. "It's a very daunting thing - to have to be a caretaker when you yourself might need support.
"This is a challenge that is going to grow for older caretakers in our society as our nation ages. It's going to affect virtually all developed nations in the world."
But Josephine Grabowski said she does not regret deciding to care for Frankie herself.
Their home is dotted with lacy curtains and family portraits that point to happier times, including a shot of Frankie beaming in a suit and tie after his First Communion.
In his those days, Frankie would spend hours holding a battery-powered radio to his ear, set to a station as fond of Lawrence Welk as he was. He would giggle as he chased after plastic balls in the house. On sunny days, he would sit on the front steps and wave to neighbors.
Several afternoons each week, mother and son would drive to a McDonald's for a hamburger and fries drenched in ketchup. Frankie held court in the restaurant, shaking hands with staff and customers. At the grocery store, he would try to hug and kiss the cashiers in the check-out line.
When he napped during the day, his mother would head to her garden, where she would lose herself as she pulled weeds and tended her flowers.
"I was just a housewife," she said. "I took care of my family."
In a similar spirit, Terri Coglianese, 70, has cared for her younger brother, Charles "Titos" Sanchez, 69, ever since their parents died in the early 1960s. Sanchez, too, has Down syndrome.
"We would never put him in an institution," she said, tearing up. "He's my baby."
But his care became increasingly complicated over the years, first with the loss of sight in one eye, then after he fractured his hip in December. Sanchez must now wear diapers, he was no teeth and he is terrified of getting out of bed.
Family members say he "understands everything," but his communication skills are limited. It took his loved ones a week to realize he had a fracture because Sanchez never complained about the pain. He simply refused to walk.
For now, Sanchez remains bedridden in a nursing home in Park Ridge. Coglianese, who works full-time as a human resources administrator, plans to take him home once he regains his mobility.
"You are going to walk, right Titos?" Coglianese said softly to her brother in Spanish.
"Si!" he answered brightly.
To be sure, not all adults with disabilities face the same sort of challenges Grabowski and Sanchez face. Braddock said the vast majority of people born with Down syndrome today, assuming access to treatment, service and support, experience mild to moderate cognitive disability.
"They are able to live a productive life," he said.
But Josephine Grabowski's day-to-day life offers a glimpse of how precarious care arrangements can be - even with outside medical and social service assistance. She or a part-time nursing assistant changes Frankie Grabowski's bedsheets an average of 18 times a day. Late last fall, he developed a toothache. Unable to express what was wrong, he banged his head against the wall for hours, leaving marks. His mother arranged for him to be sedated and carried to a dental clinic by ambulance. He had to have four teeth extracted.
Still, with the help of Jenny Howard, a social worker from the Adult Down Syndrome Center at Advocate Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge, Grabowski has come up with a plan for Frankie's care. She has signed the necessary paperwork so that her son will move to a nursing home when she dies.
Two years ago this August, Josephine had a heart attack as she walked to her bedroom one night from the washroom. An older son staying at her house was able to get her help, and today she describes her heart attack in almost-glowing terms.
"I felt peaceful," she said of her five-day stay at Our Lady of Resurrection Medical Center. "It felt so good, just sleeping. If this is the way it is when you die, I'm not scared. I'll catch up on 48 years of needing sleep."
Saturday, September 15, 2007
This is your brain on ADD...
So I found this book about ADD and relationships (primarily romantic, but can be applied to any relationship really) and have found it fascinating. It isn't incredibly academic - more anecdotal - but still quite insightful. As the daughter of an ADD-sufferer, and as someone with ADD tendencies and a definite ADD personality type (an ENFP looks eerily similar to someone with ADD), I found the book helpful in shedding light on the ways my actions affect others.
I guess no one really knows what causes ADD...it's still somewhat mysterious, as are most things involving the brain. But scientists know that Attention Deficit Disorder stems from some sort of neurological deficit in the prefrontal cortex (the part of the brain responsible for "executive functioning"). Neurotransmitters act as chemical 'bridges,' carrying information from one neuron to the next. If you have the right kind of neurotransmitter at the right time in the right place in the right amount, then everything hums along smoothly. If this is out of wack, your behavior is inevitably affected. When the electrical activity in your prefrontal cortex is sluggish (due to a lack of dopamine), you exhibit ADD behaviors.
Now, I have undiagnosed ADD (though my dad, a psychologist, has confirmed that I exhibit a lot of the behaviors; I've tried to develop some coping mechanisms), but I can relate to much of the stuff listed in this book. 1) Impulsivity, 2) Need for stimulation, 3) Forgetfulness, 4) Lack of organization, 5) Poor follow-through, 6)Difficulty staying on task, 7)Hyper-focused (related to the need for stimulation).
Need for stimulation is something I think I relate to the MOST. We tend to make fun of my dad for this. Whenever we try to have a conversation with him that's more than 3 sentences long, and he begins to zone off, we start waving our hands in front of his face to get him back in the "here and now." He needs multiple forms of stimulation to stay focused. And so do I, frankly, but this is manifested more in me biting my nails, cracking my knuckles, tapping my feet, doodling, twisting my hair around my finger, etc. These are some of my coping mechanisms...and they usually help.
The book says, "People with ADD want, crave, need, and absolutely have to have stimulation. They are drawn to new stimulation like the proverbial moth to the flame." Folks with ADD tend to be kinesthetic learners - they understand life better with it is interpreted through bodily experiences. My sister and my boyfriend are always saying this about me - I experience life through my senses. If there is something to smell or taste or hear or see or touch, I'm there. I'm a sucker for PDA (public displays of affection). I have to stop and smell the roses. I like watching butterflies and people's facial expressions and ants scurrying up a log. I feel almost drawn to touch soft, fluffy dogs or the big spines on a cactus leaf. I am fascinated by the slime molds in my backyard, the way they ooze when you poke them with a stick. I like climbing trees to pick the reddest apple. I revel in a good sunset, a yellow Autumn tree, a flock of birds. These are all the things life is about for me - things I can experience through my 5 senses.
My need for stimulation (which produces dopamine...mmmm) manifests itself in other ways, too. I read multiple books at once. I attempt three different tasks at the same time. I listen to music while doing paperwork. I knit while watching a movie. I doodle during meetings. I take a different route home. I delight in spontaneity and creativity and novelty. I am maybe one of the few who LOVE surprise parties. I love sending and receiving gifts or notes or emails "just because." I really feel fully myself when I travel abroad, as I am immersed in stimulation to the max (new food, culture, language, ahh!). And I feel fully myself when I am in deep, meaningful conversation with someone else, not necessarily discussing things I've already concluded but processing ideas, working through them, and sharing insights and experiences regarding those ideas.
Now, my need for stimulation isn't necessarily a bad thing. I definitely don't see it as such. In fact, it has allowed me to be a more creative, caring, intuitive, knowledgeable person. It only becomes problematic when 1) others do not realize this is my need or 2) this need is not reigned in. Without stimulation, I shrivel like a raisin. But with too much, I become self-indulgent and obsessive. I find that I can be hyperfocused on certain things that can cause a lot of stimulation - scrapbooking, hanging pictures up in my room, organizing my closet, reading a good book, listening to a friend, searching for something that I've lost, painting a picture, listen to a radio show I enjoy. But my hyperfocus is intermittent, and there are things that need my attention to detail but I have a really difficult time unless I find these tasks stimulating (anything involving numbers or minute details is, in my opinion, the antithesis of stimulating).
Anyway...a fascinating book. A fascinating read. I always love things that shed some light on the mystery of myself and the mysteriousness of other people.
I guess no one really knows what causes ADD...it's still somewhat mysterious, as are most things involving the brain. But scientists know that Attention Deficit Disorder stems from some sort of neurological deficit in the prefrontal cortex (the part of the brain responsible for "executive functioning"). Neurotransmitters act as chemical 'bridges,' carrying information from one neuron to the next. If you have the right kind of neurotransmitter at the right time in the right place in the right amount, then everything hums along smoothly. If this is out of wack, your behavior is inevitably affected. When the electrical activity in your prefrontal cortex is sluggish (due to a lack of dopamine), you exhibit ADD behaviors.
Now, I have undiagnosed ADD (though my dad, a psychologist, has confirmed that I exhibit a lot of the behaviors; I've tried to develop some coping mechanisms), but I can relate to much of the stuff listed in this book. 1) Impulsivity, 2) Need for stimulation, 3) Forgetfulness, 4) Lack of organization, 5) Poor follow-through, 6)Difficulty staying on task, 7)Hyper-focused (related to the need for stimulation).
Need for stimulation is something I think I relate to the MOST. We tend to make fun of my dad for this. Whenever we try to have a conversation with him that's more than 3 sentences long, and he begins to zone off, we start waving our hands in front of his face to get him back in the "here and now." He needs multiple forms of stimulation to stay focused. And so do I, frankly, but this is manifested more in me biting my nails, cracking my knuckles, tapping my feet, doodling, twisting my hair around my finger, etc. These are some of my coping mechanisms...and they usually help.
The book says, "People with ADD want, crave, need, and absolutely have to have stimulation. They are drawn to new stimulation like the proverbial moth to the flame." Folks with ADD tend to be kinesthetic learners - they understand life better with it is interpreted through bodily experiences. My sister and my boyfriend are always saying this about me - I experience life through my senses. If there is something to smell or taste or hear or see or touch, I'm there. I'm a sucker for PDA (public displays of affection). I have to stop and smell the roses. I like watching butterflies and people's facial expressions and ants scurrying up a log. I feel almost drawn to touch soft, fluffy dogs or the big spines on a cactus leaf. I am fascinated by the slime molds in my backyard, the way they ooze when you poke them with a stick. I like climbing trees to pick the reddest apple. I revel in a good sunset, a yellow Autumn tree, a flock of birds. These are all the things life is about for me - things I can experience through my 5 senses.
My need for stimulation (which produces dopamine...mmmm) manifests itself in other ways, too. I read multiple books at once. I attempt three different tasks at the same time. I listen to music while doing paperwork. I knit while watching a movie. I doodle during meetings. I take a different route home. I delight in spontaneity and creativity and novelty. I am maybe one of the few who LOVE surprise parties. I love sending and receiving gifts or notes or emails "just because." I really feel fully myself when I travel abroad, as I am immersed in stimulation to the max (new food, culture, language, ahh!). And I feel fully myself when I am in deep, meaningful conversation with someone else, not necessarily discussing things I've already concluded but processing ideas, working through them, and sharing insights and experiences regarding those ideas.
Now, my need for stimulation isn't necessarily a bad thing. I definitely don't see it as such. In fact, it has allowed me to be a more creative, caring, intuitive, knowledgeable person. It only becomes problematic when 1) others do not realize this is my need or 2) this need is not reigned in. Without stimulation, I shrivel like a raisin. But with too much, I become self-indulgent and obsessive. I find that I can be hyperfocused on certain things that can cause a lot of stimulation - scrapbooking, hanging pictures up in my room, organizing my closet, reading a good book, listening to a friend, searching for something that I've lost, painting a picture, listen to a radio show I enjoy. But my hyperfocus is intermittent, and there are things that need my attention to detail but I have a really difficult time unless I find these tasks stimulating (anything involving numbers or minute details is, in my opinion, the antithesis of stimulating).
Anyway...a fascinating book. A fascinating read. I always love things that shed some light on the mystery of myself and the mysteriousness of other people.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Buechner
I'd forgotten about Buechner until last week when I read some of his sermons. I love Buechner for many reasons - his eloquent writing, his perspective of faith. But what I appreciate most is his experience of and appreciation for the hard things that life offers us. He wears no rose-colored glasses. The world is a painful place and, according to Buechner, God can speak to us through that pain.
I am glad to have stumbled upon Buechner once again, because life is painful right now (for myself and for those whom I love, which is really one in the same), and reading Buechner is balm for the soul. There are those human beings who, in our moments of pain and darkness, can pull us back to the light. Frederick Buechner is one of those human beings to me.
This year has truly been one of pain and loss, occurring mostly in the last few months. My cats died. Friendships dispersed, or disappeared all together. Devon's mother passed away. A friend miscarried. Dave moved away. These are all sad, sobering things, the things life is made of. But, it has also been a year of growth, of blessings and joys. Spending good time with my parents. Melissa and Jacob's wedding. Visits from friends. Traveling to Portland and Costa Rica. Assuming new responsibilities. Being pleasantly surprised by a new relationship. Enjoying my friendships in l'Arche. Reading good books and enjoying solitude. Discovering my gifts and strengths and capacities. Experiencing forgiveness and kindness within my home. Maintaining friendships. Life consists of these things, too.
One of the many things I appreciate about l'Arche is the emphasis on reflection. We are consistently asked to reflect upon and process our experiences in l'Arche, through accompaniment, retreats, weekly times of sharing, nightly prayer, and personal time. I think that's why l'Arche works, because we are called time and time again to remember. We remember the hardships and the turmoil, and we realize that we survived them; in fact, we even realize that we are better because of them. We remember the anticipation and the excitement and anxiety of first moving in and stumbling around. We remember the week when, in crisis, everyone dropped what they were doing to support one another. We remember the spontaneous moments of excitement - dancing in the kitchen or laughing in the living room. We remember our story, where we have been and where we are now and where we are going. Memory is essential for our life together.
Buechner wrote an essay I really like called, "A Room Called Remember." Here is a passage that resonates.
"We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.
"To remember in my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are,a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive."
I am glad to have stumbled upon Buechner once again, because life is painful right now (for myself and for those whom I love, which is really one in the same), and reading Buechner is balm for the soul. There are those human beings who, in our moments of pain and darkness, can pull us back to the light. Frederick Buechner is one of those human beings to me.
This year has truly been one of pain and loss, occurring mostly in the last few months. My cats died. Friendships dispersed, or disappeared all together. Devon's mother passed away. A friend miscarried. Dave moved away. These are all sad, sobering things, the things life is made of. But, it has also been a year of growth, of blessings and joys. Spending good time with my parents. Melissa and Jacob's wedding. Visits from friends. Traveling to Portland and Costa Rica. Assuming new responsibilities. Being pleasantly surprised by a new relationship. Enjoying my friendships in l'Arche. Reading good books and enjoying solitude. Discovering my gifts and strengths and capacities. Experiencing forgiveness and kindness within my home. Maintaining friendships. Life consists of these things, too.
One of the many things I appreciate about l'Arche is the emphasis on reflection. We are consistently asked to reflect upon and process our experiences in l'Arche, through accompaniment, retreats, weekly times of sharing, nightly prayer, and personal time. I think that's why l'Arche works, because we are called time and time again to remember. We remember the hardships and the turmoil, and we realize that we survived them; in fact, we even realize that we are better because of them. We remember the anticipation and the excitement and anxiety of first moving in and stumbling around. We remember the week when, in crisis, everyone dropped what they were doing to support one another. We remember the spontaneous moments of excitement - dancing in the kitchen or laughing in the living room. We remember our story, where we have been and where we are now and where we are going. Memory is essential for our life together.
Buechner wrote an essay I really like called, "A Room Called Remember." Here is a passage that resonates.
"We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.
"To remember in my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are,a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive."
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The mystery of another person....
Dave sent me an article some weeks back by Sam Wells, Dean of Duke Chapel since 2005. In it, Sam asks us to "pause and wonder for a moment at the mystery of another person -- another mind, another imagination, another myriad of experiences, energies, enthusiasms and enjoyments. Could one ever exhaust that person?" It is this "mystery" of another human being and her story, that makes things like l'Arche and pacifism and marriage and parenthood possible. We are created beings. We are, each of us, valuable, mysterious, unique. But it's not enough to SAY this. It must be lived, like any good theology.
This is where it gets hard. To value human life consistently, wholely, profoundly impacts our daily lives. It means approaching the hurried bank teller, the irritable coworker, and the hoard of school children around the Tidal Basin with the same (or with some semblance of similarity) awe and wonder that we approach our spouse, our child, our best friend. Sound difficult? We are not only called to value the persons we find annoying, but also those we may even consider disposable - inmates and delinquents, unwanted children and the elderly, the mentally and physically disabled, the Welfare mothers and the deadbeat dads, the pornographers and the prostitutes. THESE people have a "myriad of experiences, energies, enthusiasm, and enjoyments;" they may also have a myriad of sorrows, disappointments, anxieties, and dreams deferred. But their lives remain worthy of our witness and our attention.
Occasionally, when I am in a particularly pensive state, I find myself both overwhelmed with the idea that so many human lives have walked this earth, felt love and loss, celebrated and mourned, experienced pain and redemption. It is mystifying to me, the rich diversity of human stories that are enfolding at one time on this earth, the way they are intertwined with our own stories, yet vary so greatly from our own experience. Imagine, at this one moment, the multitude of human experiences that are occurring simultaneously - an umbilical chord cut, a guitar strummed, a kiss exchanged, a letter received, a casket closed. The great beauty and mystery of human life is occurring all around us. And it has been for 100,000 years. Wild.
People are wonderfully mysterious to me - this I have no hard time entertaining. What is most difficult, in believing life is sacred, is living in a world where life is not treated as such. I have heard horror stories from Dottie about the institution, Forest Haven, where some of our DC core folks use to live - the deplorable conditions, the medical and social neglect, the isolation and the torment. I have Rwandan friends who escaped the genocide that took so many of their family members some 2 decades ago. I have seen the scars of communist totalitarianism in the faces of Romanian shopkeepers and miners. I have read the seemingly endless stories of people affected by violence in Iraq, Afghanistan, the West Bank. I have broken bread with the homeless, friendless, HIV-positive men who roam Boston Common. I have prayed with men and women rotting away in our nation's industrial prisons. What of THESE lives, these disposable people? Will we ever witness their stories, share in their delights and sorrows?
There is no depth to human cruelty, no end to human kindness. We each have the capacity to demystify human life, to rationalize it and try to control it and even destroy it. But we each have the capacity to recognize human life as sacred, to see each other as uniquely created beings, to encourage one another's growth. Isn't this what Christians are called to do? Why do we suck so badly at it?
This is where it gets hard. To value human life consistently, wholely, profoundly impacts our daily lives. It means approaching the hurried bank teller, the irritable coworker, and the hoard of school children around the Tidal Basin with the same (or with some semblance of similarity) awe and wonder that we approach our spouse, our child, our best friend. Sound difficult? We are not only called to value the persons we find annoying, but also those we may even consider disposable - inmates and delinquents, unwanted children and the elderly, the mentally and physically disabled, the Welfare mothers and the deadbeat dads, the pornographers and the prostitutes. THESE people have a "myriad of experiences, energies, enthusiasm, and enjoyments;" they may also have a myriad of sorrows, disappointments, anxieties, and dreams deferred. But their lives remain worthy of our witness and our attention.
Occasionally, when I am in a particularly pensive state, I find myself both overwhelmed with the idea that so many human lives have walked this earth, felt love and loss, celebrated and mourned, experienced pain and redemption. It is mystifying to me, the rich diversity of human stories that are enfolding at one time on this earth, the way they are intertwined with our own stories, yet vary so greatly from our own experience. Imagine, at this one moment, the multitude of human experiences that are occurring simultaneously - an umbilical chord cut, a guitar strummed, a kiss exchanged, a letter received, a casket closed. The great beauty and mystery of human life is occurring all around us. And it has been for 100,000 years. Wild.
People are wonderfully mysterious to me - this I have no hard time entertaining. What is most difficult, in believing life is sacred, is living in a world where life is not treated as such. I have heard horror stories from Dottie about the institution, Forest Haven, where some of our DC core folks use to live - the deplorable conditions, the medical and social neglect, the isolation and the torment. I have Rwandan friends who escaped the genocide that took so many of their family members some 2 decades ago. I have seen the scars of communist totalitarianism in the faces of Romanian shopkeepers and miners. I have read the seemingly endless stories of people affected by violence in Iraq, Afghanistan, the West Bank. I have broken bread with the homeless, friendless, HIV-positive men who roam Boston Common. I have prayed with men and women rotting away in our nation's industrial prisons. What of THESE lives, these disposable people? Will we ever witness their stories, share in their delights and sorrows?
There is no depth to human cruelty, no end to human kindness. We each have the capacity to demystify human life, to rationalize it and try to control it and even destroy it. But we each have the capacity to recognize human life as sacred, to see each other as uniquely created beings, to encourage one another's growth. Isn't this what Christians are called to do? Why do we suck so badly at it?
Prayer of L'Arche
O Father, we ask You to bless us,
and keep us in Your love.
May L'Arche be a true home,
where the poor in Spirit may find life;
A place where those who are suffering
may find comfort and peace.
Lord, give us hearts that are open,
hearts that are humble and gentle,
so that we may welcome those You send,
with tenderness and compassion.
Give us hearts full of mercy,
that we may love and serve;
And where discord is found,
may we be able to heal and bring peace;
And see in the one who is suffering
the living presence of Your son.
Lord, through the hands of Your little ones,
we ask You to bless us.
Through the eyes of those who are rejected,
we ask You to smile on us.
Lord, grant freedom and fellowship,
and unity to all the world;
And on the day of Your coming,
welcome all people into Your Kingdom.
Amen.
and keep us in Your love.
May L'Arche be a true home,
where the poor in Spirit may find life;
A place where those who are suffering
may find comfort and peace.
Lord, give us hearts that are open,
hearts that are humble and gentle,
so that we may welcome those You send,
with tenderness and compassion.
Give us hearts full of mercy,
that we may love and serve;
And where discord is found,
may we be able to heal and bring peace;
And see in the one who is suffering
the living presence of Your son.
Lord, through the hands of Your little ones,
we ask You to bless us.
Through the eyes of those who are rejected,
we ask You to smile on us.
Lord, grant freedom and fellowship,
and unity to all the world;
And on the day of Your coming,
welcome all people into Your Kingdom.
Amen.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Career aspirations ...?
I remember writing a journal entry in my creative writing class my senior year of highschool of all the things I wanted to "be" when I grew up. Short of astronaut, everything's there -- I dug up the old journal entry (after looking through a dozen of my old, dusty journals).
*Scientist (I don't speficy which science)
*Anthropologist ("So I can travel to distant countries and live in primative cultures." -- I cringed as I typed that)
*Sociologist ("So I can evaluate social groups and write a book about it." -- this one is the most probable, I think)
*Psychologist (following in my dad's footsteps, perhaps?)
*Highschool English teacher
*Highschool theatre teacher ("So I can be the next Mr Hulan.")
*Linguist ("So I can travel to archeological digs and translate old, archaic texts." -- There was a while there when I was totally convinced I was going to study linguistics in college.)
*Wycliffe Bible Translator ("So I can travel to South America and live with native tribes..." -- I remember this faze well.)
*Priest (something about wanting to "defy social standards while serving God" -- not exactly the best motivation to go into the ministry.)
*Sociology professor (bizarre....because this has been a real, recent thought.)
*Photographer ("So I can take pictures of children around the world.")
*Radio DJ (This explanation is priceless -- "So I can have a nation-wide Christian rock station.")
*Stage director (something about "creating a play.")
*Actress ("So I can perform on Broadway.)
*Singer/songwriter (goes without saying, I guess).
*Senator (another priceless gem from my heavy-duty Evangelical days -- "So I can make Godly legislation.")
It's a bit more understandable why my mother is worried about me and the direction my life will take. I have a lot of lofty ambitions, but these rarely take shape. Grant it, I was 18 when I wrote that entry, and my head is somewhat out of the clouds now, but I still have lofty ideas. I've thought more seriously about becoming a professor, becoming ordained, working in some capacity with the Church, becoming a therapist/psychologist, doing aids work/community development overseas, writing and teaching, doing research, mentoring and counseling. I guess that means I can cross off actress and singer/songwriter. And radio DJ. But what can I add on? Could I really be a professor or a writer? I don't have the attention span for that (then again, my favorite professor has the attention span of a gnat and he does alright). Could I really be a therapist, when I'm already prone to taking on the burdens of the world? Could I deal with the hardships of development work in post-communist Eastern Europe, in resource-scarce East Africa? Could I stand in front of a congregation and break the bread when I know my heart is black as soot?
*Scientist (I don't speficy which science)
*Anthropologist ("So I can travel to distant countries and live in primative cultures." -- I cringed as I typed that)
*Sociologist ("So I can evaluate social groups and write a book about it." -- this one is the most probable, I think)
*Psychologist (following in my dad's footsteps, perhaps?)
*Highschool English teacher
*Highschool theatre teacher ("So I can be the next Mr Hulan.")
*Linguist ("So I can travel to archeological digs and translate old, archaic texts." -- There was a while there when I was totally convinced I was going to study linguistics in college.)
*Wycliffe Bible Translator ("So I can travel to South America and live with native tribes..." -- I remember this faze well.)
*Priest (something about wanting to "defy social standards while serving God" -- not exactly the best motivation to go into the ministry.)
*Sociology professor (bizarre....because this has been a real, recent thought.)
*Photographer ("So I can take pictures of children around the world.")
*Radio DJ (This explanation is priceless -- "So I can have a nation-wide Christian rock station.")
*Stage director (something about "creating a play.")
*Actress ("So I can perform on Broadway.)
*Singer/songwriter (goes without saying, I guess).
*Senator (another priceless gem from my heavy-duty Evangelical days -- "So I can make Godly legislation.")
It's a bit more understandable why my mother is worried about me and the direction my life will take. I have a lot of lofty ambitions, but these rarely take shape. Grant it, I was 18 when I wrote that entry, and my head is somewhat out of the clouds now, but I still have lofty ideas. I've thought more seriously about becoming a professor, becoming ordained, working in some capacity with the Church, becoming a therapist/psychologist, doing aids work/community development overseas, writing and teaching, doing research, mentoring and counseling. I guess that means I can cross off actress and singer/songwriter. And radio DJ. But what can I add on? Could I really be a professor or a writer? I don't have the attention span for that (then again, my favorite professor has the attention span of a gnat and he does alright). Could I really be a therapist, when I'm already prone to taking on the burdens of the world? Could I deal with the hardships of development work in post-communist Eastern Europe, in resource-scarce East Africa? Could I stand in front of a congregation and break the bread when I know my heart is black as soot?
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Why I am a pacifist...in email-essay form...
A friend recently asked me to speak more about pacifism and my prediliction towards it. Though I could lay out some points, that's borning and impersonal. Instead, I thought I would post this email I wrote about a year ago to my professor-friend from college. He had asked me to read Coetzee's novel, "Disgrace," and my response to the text was one promoting non-violence. He prompted me to speak more on the subject, given that he had disagreements. The email ended up essay-length, but I've shortened it slightly and modified it for varying reasons. Here it is...
_____________________________________________________________________________________
You are right to say that I am not attracted to pacifism because it is politically correct or trendy in bohemian circles. In fact, the pacifism with which I sympathize is neither. Non-violence as a practice is, in fact, a political nightmare. To assume that nation-states would ascribe to such a philosophy is ludicrous. And non-violent practice is hardly trendy anywhere, even in the hippie circles of Southeast Portland. For most, opposition of the Iraq war (or the death penalty, or nuclear power) is still founded on rational, political principles -- this current war had little just cause, was poorly executed, contained no exit strategy, etc. In case of the death penalty, very often it is issues of racism that fuel its opposition, not the loss of life of the inmates. Practical non-violence opposes these things, but not because the mechanisms of war or capital punishment contain some kinks. Pacifism opposes the mechanisms themselves.
You suggested I should revisit the United States’ decision to enter WWII. This war, what many would consider the only “just war” we’ve fought in the 20th century, is often used as a response to opposers of war (all war). If we are going to applaud America for its decision to enter and to end WWII, I can only reflect on the hundreds of thousands of Jews, Roma, etc., who were killed in mass the 6 years prior to Pearl Harbor. Reports of such a holocaust made the last page of the New York Times. And what of the hundreds of thousands of civilian lives lost in the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima? Have we forgotten these atrocities? Of course, we responded out of self-preservation…I would expect nothing more. This is the job of nations.
What would the world look like without our declaration of war? I can only imagine. But if we are going to ask this question, we have no choice but to ask, “What does the world look like because of our declaration of war?” WWI, the War to End All Wars, served to jumpstart the blood shed during the 20th century -- over one hundred million lives lost (that’s 8 zeros) in violent conflict, more than any other century combined. WWII brought us international terrorism, bio-chemical weapons, and the nuclear bomb (all three have only prompted more armed conflict throughout the decades, including most recently IraqX2, Afghanistan, and North Korea). Peace resulting from war is only a temporary stalemate. History bears this out. To me, history does a fine job of validating and verifying that war rarely, if ever, contributes to a just and lasting peace.
What of the colonized, the American Indians slaughtered by European invaders, the indigenous peoples of Africa, India, and the Pacific trampled upon and enslaved by outside enemies? Do they not have the right to respond to this violence with violence? I have no right to answer, as I sit in my comfortable desk in a comfortable corner of the world where I am more likely to colonize than to be colonized. But I will say this: Rwandans, in violent retaliation of French colonization, destroyed not their French oppressors but one another. More than a million Rwandans died in 1994; their French colonizers remain alive and well. The Hutus’ held to a perverted sense of justice (destroy the Tutsi) prompted by colonialist preference of the more “Aryan-looking” people, the Tutsi. In this case, violence beget violence; no justice was served.
Can we envision a human experience without violence? Impossible. You say so yourself. We encounter violence daily, the swatting of a fly, the anger of a spouse, the birth of a child. In many ways, it is the experience of pain and suffering that makes us more fully human, that brings us into fuller awareness of ourselves and of God. Jesus (whom I wish to emulate) understood this. According to him, we are to be “born anew,” implying we must experience pain (violence) in order to experience wholeness. We must die to our old selves. We must taste death in order to experience life. This is a paradox, a coupling of opposites used to convey Truth (Reality). Jesus was no stranger to pain being a part of the human experience. And, considering the time and place into which he was born (living under the oppressive regime of the Roman empire), Jesus undoubtedly was no stranger to destructive acts of violence. We must remember that his crucifixion was a legal, just punishment under both Roman and Jewish law.
I don’t mean to use this word violence abstractly or arbitrarily. Violence, by its most common definition, is defined as the use of aggressive force to bring about the destruction of another, usually through physical acts, but also through other means, as well. I am primarily concerned here with acts of violence against other human beings, though very often, the destruction of the Earth is intimately related to human aggression.
I do not bring up the examples of war and genocide to make the argument that pacifism is somehow the solution to rid the world of violence. Rather, pacifism is a way to orient ourselves in a world that is filled with violence. It operates under the assumption that violence is an inevitable (if not overwhelming) force in the world, and that we, as people of faith, wish to respond differently. Pacifism does not eliminate pain or suffering from our experience. In many ways, to act non-violently (turn the other cheek, walk the second mile) is to experience pain, but a constructive pain, much like the pain of consensual intercourse or birth. The ego and the body may suffer, but the spirit remains whole. Essentially, to react to violence with non-violent means is to refuse to hate; it is this hate which poisons the soul.
I am not proposing that we do away with the prison system, that the police force serves no purpose in society, that UN peacekeepers should enter war-torn countries carrying flags rather than guns. Nor am I saying that there is no need for restraint or punishment of violent offenders. I am not prescribing a universal ethic here, because I do not believe we can live peace-promoting lifestyles without the presence of community (Peck would argue this, also). Communities, particularly the Church, are bound to a history, a story that has been unfolding for centuries. Pacifism is nothing new; it was the foundational ethic of the early Church. Pacifists must have memories of the past and hopes for the future in order to live non-violently, peacefully. Pacifism is of no importance to one who has no association with a common story and lives under the assumption that this present world is all there is and all there ever will be. Ultimately, pacifism is an ethic of the Church, and a messy ethic at that. But, nonetheless, it is an ethic upheld by a common story rooted (ideally) in the life and teachings of Jesus, and it is an ethic lived with the knowledge that the Kingdom of God is now, here. We no longer wait for this Kingdom…we live it. And I believe living it involves promoting peace in the face of violence.
If violence and destruction are synonymous, couldn’t non-violence and love, as Peck and Fromm, define it, also be? To practice nonviolence is to extend oneself for the growth of another, to desire the maturity and wholeness of another human being, unconditionally. To practice nonviolence, to love, is to believe that all persons, even the most vile and destructive, are subject to grace. It is, as you say, to leave the work of God up to God. It is to believe we are all capable of great violence and we are all in need of forgiveness, grace, reconciliation, and love. Think about it -- to act nonviolent, to place our faith in peace rather than destruction, allows us to be free from fear! After the ex-pats and diplomats are gone from Afghanistan and Iraq, who remain? The pacifists. There is nothing left to fear, not even death. If I am going to place my faith in anything, it is the transforming work of non-violence and reconciliation I have seen at work in Northern Uganda, Rwanda, Iraq, Palestine, Northern Ireland, Cambodia, Guatemala, Columbia, the projects of our US cities, etc.
At this point in my life, I have no use for an impractical nonviolent ethic. As a member of a l’Arche community, I am called to live peaceably on a daily basis, through my thoughts and words and actions. Marilyn, who suffers from an anxiety disorder and occasional lashes out at me and other assistants, desperately needs to live in a place that promotes peaceful conflict resolution. I must respond to Marilyn’s violence non-violently for both of our sakes. This includes swallowing my pride and enduring her anger, until she comes to the realization that I am not the cause of her anger but a presence of peace and unconditional forgiveness. This does not mean we let Marilyn run wild but we take steps to ensure her safety and the safety of others, so that everyone’s personhood is respected. In fact, Marilyn established the steps we as assistants would take in order to deescalate her anxiety. It’s been a long struggle for her, but she has come a long way. The peace of l’Arche has been transformative in her life. She would be the first to say this.
I remember us talking about things we would die for. Is life even worth living if we have nothing to die for? What if I chose to die for my enemy? Could you respect my life and my faith to respond without violence? I guess I should be appreciative that the “last thing on your mind would be non-violence,” but does this not betray my life, my experience, that in which I have placed my faith? These are hard, uncomfortable questions, I know. But please know that I do not take any of this pacifism “stuff” lightly. I am young, I am idealistic, but I am also living in a world ravaged by war and obsessed with death. As I said, I do not seek nonviolent means because its sexy or any easy fix to the world’s ills. I seek it because I have faith in it, because I am bound to a story that has been defined by it, because the story of Jesus fascinates me and gives me hope. Whether or not you agree with me, or think I’m raving mad, or choose to agree to disagree, I do hope that this essay-like response has shed a bit more light on why I find pacifism to be compelling. And I hope (and expect) that you will continue to hold me to the consistency of my position on this and other subjects.
Truly,
Heather
_____________________________________________________________________________________
You are right to say that I am not attracted to pacifism because it is politically correct or trendy in bohemian circles. In fact, the pacifism with which I sympathize is neither. Non-violence as a practice is, in fact, a political nightmare. To assume that nation-states would ascribe to such a philosophy is ludicrous. And non-violent practice is hardly trendy anywhere, even in the hippie circles of Southeast Portland. For most, opposition of the Iraq war (or the death penalty, or nuclear power) is still founded on rational, political principles -- this current war had little just cause, was poorly executed, contained no exit strategy, etc. In case of the death penalty, very often it is issues of racism that fuel its opposition, not the loss of life of the inmates. Practical non-violence opposes these things, but not because the mechanisms of war or capital punishment contain some kinks. Pacifism opposes the mechanisms themselves.
You suggested I should revisit the United States’ decision to enter WWII. This war, what many would consider the only “just war” we’ve fought in the 20th century, is often used as a response to opposers of war (all war). If we are going to applaud America for its decision to enter and to end WWII, I can only reflect on the hundreds of thousands of Jews, Roma, etc., who were killed in mass the 6 years prior to Pearl Harbor. Reports of such a holocaust made the last page of the New York Times. And what of the hundreds of thousands of civilian lives lost in the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima? Have we forgotten these atrocities? Of course, we responded out of self-preservation…I would expect nothing more. This is the job of nations.
What would the world look like without our declaration of war? I can only imagine. But if we are going to ask this question, we have no choice but to ask, “What does the world look like because of our declaration of war?” WWI, the War to End All Wars, served to jumpstart the blood shed during the 20th century -- over one hundred million lives lost (that’s 8 zeros) in violent conflict, more than any other century combined. WWII brought us international terrorism, bio-chemical weapons, and the nuclear bomb (all three have only prompted more armed conflict throughout the decades, including most recently IraqX2, Afghanistan, and North Korea). Peace resulting from war is only a temporary stalemate. History bears this out. To me, history does a fine job of validating and verifying that war rarely, if ever, contributes to a just and lasting peace.
What of the colonized, the American Indians slaughtered by European invaders, the indigenous peoples of Africa, India, and the Pacific trampled upon and enslaved by outside enemies? Do they not have the right to respond to this violence with violence? I have no right to answer, as I sit in my comfortable desk in a comfortable corner of the world where I am more likely to colonize than to be colonized. But I will say this: Rwandans, in violent retaliation of French colonization, destroyed not their French oppressors but one another. More than a million Rwandans died in 1994; their French colonizers remain alive and well. The Hutus’ held to a perverted sense of justice (destroy the Tutsi) prompted by colonialist preference of the more “Aryan-looking” people, the Tutsi. In this case, violence beget violence; no justice was served.
Can we envision a human experience without violence? Impossible. You say so yourself. We encounter violence daily, the swatting of a fly, the anger of a spouse, the birth of a child. In many ways, it is the experience of pain and suffering that makes us more fully human, that brings us into fuller awareness of ourselves and of God. Jesus (whom I wish to emulate) understood this. According to him, we are to be “born anew,” implying we must experience pain (violence) in order to experience wholeness. We must die to our old selves. We must taste death in order to experience life. This is a paradox, a coupling of opposites used to convey Truth (Reality). Jesus was no stranger to pain being a part of the human experience. And, considering the time and place into which he was born (living under the oppressive regime of the Roman empire), Jesus undoubtedly was no stranger to destructive acts of violence. We must remember that his crucifixion was a legal, just punishment under both Roman and Jewish law.
I don’t mean to use this word violence abstractly or arbitrarily. Violence, by its most common definition, is defined as the use of aggressive force to bring about the destruction of another, usually through physical acts, but also through other means, as well. I am primarily concerned here with acts of violence against other human beings, though very often, the destruction of the Earth is intimately related to human aggression.
I do not bring up the examples of war and genocide to make the argument that pacifism is somehow the solution to rid the world of violence. Rather, pacifism is a way to orient ourselves in a world that is filled with violence. It operates under the assumption that violence is an inevitable (if not overwhelming) force in the world, and that we, as people of faith, wish to respond differently. Pacifism does not eliminate pain or suffering from our experience. In many ways, to act non-violently (turn the other cheek, walk the second mile) is to experience pain, but a constructive pain, much like the pain of consensual intercourse or birth. The ego and the body may suffer, but the spirit remains whole. Essentially, to react to violence with non-violent means is to refuse to hate; it is this hate which poisons the soul.
I am not proposing that we do away with the prison system, that the police force serves no purpose in society, that UN peacekeepers should enter war-torn countries carrying flags rather than guns. Nor am I saying that there is no need for restraint or punishment of violent offenders. I am not prescribing a universal ethic here, because I do not believe we can live peace-promoting lifestyles without the presence of community (Peck would argue this, also). Communities, particularly the Church, are bound to a history, a story that has been unfolding for centuries. Pacifism is nothing new; it was the foundational ethic of the early Church. Pacifists must have memories of the past and hopes for the future in order to live non-violently, peacefully. Pacifism is of no importance to one who has no association with a common story and lives under the assumption that this present world is all there is and all there ever will be. Ultimately, pacifism is an ethic of the Church, and a messy ethic at that. But, nonetheless, it is an ethic upheld by a common story rooted (ideally) in the life and teachings of Jesus, and it is an ethic lived with the knowledge that the Kingdom of God is now, here. We no longer wait for this Kingdom…we live it. And I believe living it involves promoting peace in the face of violence.
If violence and destruction are synonymous, couldn’t non-violence and love, as Peck and Fromm, define it, also be? To practice nonviolence is to extend oneself for the growth of another, to desire the maturity and wholeness of another human being, unconditionally. To practice nonviolence, to love, is to believe that all persons, even the most vile and destructive, are subject to grace. It is, as you say, to leave the work of God up to God. It is to believe we are all capable of great violence and we are all in need of forgiveness, grace, reconciliation, and love. Think about it -- to act nonviolent, to place our faith in peace rather than destruction, allows us to be free from fear! After the ex-pats and diplomats are gone from Afghanistan and Iraq, who remain? The pacifists. There is nothing left to fear, not even death. If I am going to place my faith in anything, it is the transforming work of non-violence and reconciliation I have seen at work in Northern Uganda, Rwanda, Iraq, Palestine, Northern Ireland, Cambodia, Guatemala, Columbia, the projects of our US cities, etc.
At this point in my life, I have no use for an impractical nonviolent ethic. As a member of a l’Arche community, I am called to live peaceably on a daily basis, through my thoughts and words and actions. Marilyn, who suffers from an anxiety disorder and occasional lashes out at me and other assistants, desperately needs to live in a place that promotes peaceful conflict resolution. I must respond to Marilyn’s violence non-violently for both of our sakes. This includes swallowing my pride and enduring her anger, until she comes to the realization that I am not the cause of her anger but a presence of peace and unconditional forgiveness. This does not mean we let Marilyn run wild but we take steps to ensure her safety and the safety of others, so that everyone’s personhood is respected. In fact, Marilyn established the steps we as assistants would take in order to deescalate her anxiety. It’s been a long struggle for her, but she has come a long way. The peace of l’Arche has been transformative in her life. She would be the first to say this.
I remember us talking about things we would die for. Is life even worth living if we have nothing to die for? What if I chose to die for my enemy? Could you respect my life and my faith to respond without violence? I guess I should be appreciative that the “last thing on your mind would be non-violence,” but does this not betray my life, my experience, that in which I have placed my faith? These are hard, uncomfortable questions, I know. But please know that I do not take any of this pacifism “stuff” lightly. I am young, I am idealistic, but I am also living in a world ravaged by war and obsessed with death. As I said, I do not seek nonviolent means because its sexy or any easy fix to the world’s ills. I seek it because I have faith in it, because I am bound to a story that has been defined by it, because the story of Jesus fascinates me and gives me hope. Whether or not you agree with me, or think I’m raving mad, or choose to agree to disagree, I do hope that this essay-like response has shed a bit more light on why I find pacifism to be compelling. And I hope (and expect) that you will continue to hold me to the consistency of my position on this and other subjects.
Truly,
Heather
Friday, June 01, 2007
Wal-Mart, you've done it again....
A recent Alabama court decision, 5/11/07, occurred which found that it
was "unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction are
'major life activities' under the ADA." As you read the following
article, consider, what factors, in your opinion, went into the
decision? What implications might this type of ruling have for people
with disabilities? Do you see this as an advantage or disadvantage for
people with disabilities? Please share you thought us with us at
NSIP@umb.edu, and we will post your responses.
Court Decision: "Mental retardation" is not a disability under ADA
In the case of Littleton v. Wal-Mart Stores, Inc., the Court of Appeals
for the Eleventh Circuit, in an unpublished opinion from May 11, held
that an individual with mental retardation did not have a disability
under the Americans with Disabilities Act.
With guidance from the Alabama Independent Living Center, Mr. Littleton
interviewed for a job as a cart-push associate at Wal-Mart. However he
was not allowed to have his job coach accompany him into the
interview,and he was ultimately not hired.
While acknowledging his intellectual disability, in the Court's
analysis, Littleton, who receives Social Security benefits because of
his disability, was found not to be substantially limited in major life
activities.
The following are excerpts from the court decision:
"We do not doubt that Littleton has certain limitations because of his
mental retardation. In order to qualify as 'disabled' under the ADA,
however, Littleton has the burden of proving that he actually is, is
perceived to be, or has a record of being substantially limited as to
'major life activities' under the ADA.
"It is unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction
are 'major life activities' under the ADA."
The entire court opinion is available as a pdf at:
http://www.ca11.uscourts.gov/unpub/ops/200512770.pdf
(This article was from the Justice for All email archives 5/24/07)
Contact the National Service Inclusion Project (NSIP) team members to
provide resources, offer technical assistance and answer your questions
concerning the inclusion of people with disabilities in national
service. NSIP contact information is: email nsip@umb.edu or contact us
toll-free at 1-888-491-0326 voice/TTY. To see a complete list of
trainings that NSIP offers, or to request a training, go to:
http://www.serviceandinclusion.org/index.php?page=request . The NSIP
team looks forward to hearing from you.
was "unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction are
'major life activities' under the ADA." As you read the following
article, consider, what factors, in your opinion, went into the
decision? What implications might this type of ruling have for people
with disabilities? Do you see this as an advantage or disadvantage for
people with disabilities? Please share you thought us with us at
NSIP@umb.edu, and we will post your responses.
Court Decision: "Mental retardation" is not a disability under ADA
In the case of Littleton v. Wal-Mart Stores, Inc., the Court of Appeals
for the Eleventh Circuit, in an unpublished opinion from May 11, held
that an individual with mental retardation did not have a disability
under the Americans with Disabilities Act.
With guidance from the Alabama Independent Living Center, Mr. Littleton
interviewed for a job as a cart-push associate at Wal-Mart. However he
was not allowed to have his job coach accompany him into the
interview,and he was ultimately not hired.
While acknowledging his intellectual disability, in the Court's
analysis, Littleton, who receives Social Security benefits because of
his disability, was found not to be substantially limited in major life
activities.
The following are excerpts from the court decision:
"We do not doubt that Littleton has certain limitations because of his
mental retardation. In order to qualify as 'disabled' under the ADA,
however, Littleton has the burden of proving that he actually is, is
perceived to be, or has a record of being substantially limited as to
'major life activities' under the ADA.
"It is unclear whether thinking, communicating, and social interaction
are 'major life activities' under the ADA."
The entire court opinion is available as a pdf at:
http://www.ca11.uscourts.gov/unpub/ops/200512770.pdf
(This article was from the Justice for All email archives 5/24/07)
Contact the National Service Inclusion Project (NSIP) team members to
provide resources, offer technical assistance and answer your questions
concerning the inclusion of people with disabilities in national
service. NSIP contact information is: email nsip@umb.edu or contact us
toll-free at 1-888-491-0326 voice/TTY. To see a complete list of
trainings that NSIP offers, or to request a training, go to:
http://www.serviceandinclusion.org/index.php?page=request . The NSIP
team looks forward to hearing from you.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Blame me for war....
I was up at TJ today, running around the track with Terrence for a while, and then I headed inside to lift weights. The lady at the reception desk greeted me as I came in, but there was a visible change in her face when she looked down at my shirt and read, "Blame Me For War" on it, along with a quote from Jacques Ellul. Her face sort of melted into confusion mixed with disgust. I was self-conscious the rest of the time I was at the gym. My cover has been blown, I kept thinking. What if someone asks me to explain? What would I say? "Uh, well...I think Christians are to blame...I mean, I'm a Christian....er....the Church must be the agent of change in our society and we can't rely on government to....well, as a follower of Jesus, I'm supposed to die rather than take the life of another, so essentially, it's my fault. Sorry I'm not dead." As you can imagine, this would have gotten me strong up on the weight machine at Thomas Jefferson Community Center. I half-heartedly lifted ten pounds over my head a few times and left. I ran home...fast.
Being a social misfit probably isn't the worst part of being a pacifist (or someone who likes to think she is). It's the tangible, earth-shattering reality of the belief itself...a belief that isn't simply talked about and or screen-printed on t-shirts. It's lived. It involves the whole of ourselves, our bodies and our minds and our very souls, to be put on the line for the one's we hate the most. Anyone else find this disturbing and unreasonable, perhaps even wrong? I left Tj tonight without having to say a word about my sympathies with pacifism. Maybe that's why I left - so as to escape the questions, the prying eyes, the looks of disgust.
It's fine to slap pacifists slogans to my bumper or my chest, but I'm still full of shit. How am I a pacifist if my first response is always to defend my ego? How am I a pacifist if I can't stand my somewhat unstable next-door neighbor? How am I a pacifist if I curse and fume at the television whenever Bush decides to open his mouth? How am I a pacifist if I respond to Linda's questions with short, dismissive answers? How am I a pacifist if I'm consuming goods that economically and environmentally oppress? How am I a pacifist if I fuel my car with gasoline drilled in a war zone? How am I a pacifist if I role my eyes instead of responding to Hazel's emotional needs? How am I pacifist if I hoard my belongings and ignore the beared man on Glebe Rd who wants nothing more than a few bills? I think it would be just as accurate to replace "pacifist" in these sentences with "Christian." I'm in the process of becoming a Christian, but I have such a long way to go.
Being a social misfit probably isn't the worst part of being a pacifist (or someone who likes to think she is). It's the tangible, earth-shattering reality of the belief itself...a belief that isn't simply talked about and or screen-printed on t-shirts. It's lived. It involves the whole of ourselves, our bodies and our minds and our very souls, to be put on the line for the one's we hate the most. Anyone else find this disturbing and unreasonable, perhaps even wrong? I left Tj tonight without having to say a word about my sympathies with pacifism. Maybe that's why I left - so as to escape the questions, the prying eyes, the looks of disgust.
It's fine to slap pacifists slogans to my bumper or my chest, but I'm still full of shit. How am I a pacifist if my first response is always to defend my ego? How am I a pacifist if I can't stand my somewhat unstable next-door neighbor? How am I a pacifist if I curse and fume at the television whenever Bush decides to open his mouth? How am I a pacifist if I respond to Linda's questions with short, dismissive answers? How am I a pacifist if I'm consuming goods that economically and environmentally oppress? How am I a pacifist if I fuel my car with gasoline drilled in a war zone? How am I a pacifist if I role my eyes instead of responding to Hazel's emotional needs? How am I pacifist if I hoard my belongings and ignore the beared man on Glebe Rd who wants nothing more than a few bills? I think it would be just as accurate to replace "pacifist" in these sentences with "Christian." I'm in the process of becoming a Christian, but I have such a long way to go.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
We are not immune...
What happened in Blacksburg is terrible, tragic, disheartening. Everyone in America is reeling - How could someone do this? What a monster! What went wrong? What did those innocent people do to deserve this? What does it all mean? What's even more shocking is that this shooting spree, with the biggest death toll in US history, happened on a college campus. Our campuses, with their manicured lawns and young, hopeful minds, represent what's great about the United States. Less than 1% of the world's population has access to college education, and we, as a nation, hold the most institutions of higher learning, not to mention some of the best. Sure, we can shrug off car bombings in Iraq, suicide bombings in Tel Aviv, massacres in the Congo and Sudan, drug-related gang violence in our inner cities. But the death of 32 innocents, on a college campus, in the US? This is unspeakable...unthinkable. Our cloistered existence as the educated minority enables us to deny the brutality that is the lives of billions around the world. And such a tragedy, as well as 9/11, shatters the false notion that we are safe, that we are in control, and that we are immune.
Today, as our eyes lay transfixed upon the face of a disturbed, brutal VT killer named Cho Seung-hui, the nation of Iraq experienced its bloodiest day since the US army occupation began 4 years ago. Some 200 people were killed in a bomb near the Sadria marketplace, which was being rebuilt after a February bombing there killed 130 people. Today, in one fell swoop, 200 people lost their lives. I dare not measure the depth and pain of tragedy quantitatively. One life lost is equivalent to a thousand lives lost - terrible, tragic, and cause for mourning. But, as painful and impossible as it may seem, let us step into the shoes of a shop-keeper in Baghdad who by the grace of God remains alive, selling his meager goods in his war-torn city, who has witnessed the countless senseless deaths of his family and friends, neighbors and loved-ones, who has had to grapple physically and emotionally and existentially with the meaning of it all, the meaning of life and the meaning of death, and God's place in all of it.
Is this possible for us, as Americans, to step inside his shoes, to look him in the face and say, "You are my brother. We have both experienced tragedy. We have both experienced loss." Can this horrific event enable us to recognize each other in our pain and suffering, our grief and anguish? Can we learn to shed tears not only for the slain in Blacksburg, but also the dead men, women, and children of Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine, Sudan, Uganda...? Can we ask each other for forgiveness? Can we embrace over the death of our loved ones? Can we protect one another from the violence of this world? Can we bend our knees together in prayers for peace? Can we love our enemies...together?
Lord, Lord we need your help.
Today, as our eyes lay transfixed upon the face of a disturbed, brutal VT killer named Cho Seung-hui, the nation of Iraq experienced its bloodiest day since the US army occupation began 4 years ago. Some 200 people were killed in a bomb near the Sadria marketplace, which was being rebuilt after a February bombing there killed 130 people. Today, in one fell swoop, 200 people lost their lives. I dare not measure the depth and pain of tragedy quantitatively. One life lost is equivalent to a thousand lives lost - terrible, tragic, and cause for mourning. But, as painful and impossible as it may seem, let us step into the shoes of a shop-keeper in Baghdad who by the grace of God remains alive, selling his meager goods in his war-torn city, who has witnessed the countless senseless deaths of his family and friends, neighbors and loved-ones, who has had to grapple physically and emotionally and existentially with the meaning of it all, the meaning of life and the meaning of death, and God's place in all of it.
Is this possible for us, as Americans, to step inside his shoes, to look him in the face and say, "You are my brother. We have both experienced tragedy. We have both experienced loss." Can this horrific event enable us to recognize each other in our pain and suffering, our grief and anguish? Can we learn to shed tears not only for the slain in Blacksburg, but also the dead men, women, and children of Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine, Sudan, Uganda...? Can we ask each other for forgiveness? Can we embrace over the death of our loved ones? Can we protect one another from the violence of this world? Can we bend our knees together in prayers for peace? Can we love our enemies...together?
Lord, Lord we need your help.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Easter, etc.
I spent Easter in the most pagan city in the United States. Really. I think Portland, Oregon, has the least amount of church attendance in the entire county. The State of Oregon has the highest proportion of religiously-unaffiliated and self-identified "nonreligious" residents. But, as Devon reminded me, I am NOT living in the most pagan nation in the world (by traditional standards....we are total pagans when it comes to our obsession with the individual freedom, death, money, choice, Self). She, on the other hand, resides in France, where they're about outlawing religious head-coverings in schools. WTF, mate?
Melissa, Jacob, and I had a nice, nice time - good beer and coffee. And we visited the farmers' market which was, as always, very cool (and wet) and the Saturday market. It was great to see the folks again at l'Arche, too. I miss Enner (Erin) a lot. Marilyn is still as out of control as ever but seems to have settled into the changes as they've come. And Joni continues to want her nails painted and listening to her IPod. And Adam has taken up tennis. It was nice to be back in a l'Arche home, however briefly, that's been in existence for two decades, where things are a bit more simple, a bit less complicated. Even though Marilyn is out of control, it definitely feels calmer there. Perhaps it's the West Coast thing, as well. Things in the North-west are...nice. Green, organic, quirky, bike-friendly, with mountains that look like mountains rather than mole hills.
I wish I lived in Portland. I'm sure the hipness would grate on my after a while, but I'm still in my Let's-be-hip phase (with one foot out the door), so I think I could handle it for the time being. And I miss living with/near Melissa and Jacob. They live in a nice, tiny apartment with nuns...and rich people down the street. We watched a lot of movies and ate good Cuban Creole food (it exists!) and went to church a lot (take that!). Our friend Tim became Catholic at the Easter vigil service on Saturday night and that was exciting, especially the party afterwards where I stuffed myself with sweets and felt a bit ill. We celebrated Melissa's birthday on Easter, as well. She's old....27. I can't believe I'm going to be 24 next year. I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Dear Lord.
So...maybe I should postpone graduate school (again) and move out to Portland. Mom and Dad said they would follow if M/J and I decided to stay out there. Hmm....I love ending my posts with a thoughtful 'hmmm....'
Melissa, Jacob, and I had a nice, nice time - good beer and coffee. And we visited the farmers' market which was, as always, very cool (and wet) and the Saturday market. It was great to see the folks again at l'Arche, too. I miss Enner (Erin) a lot. Marilyn is still as out of control as ever but seems to have settled into the changes as they've come. And Joni continues to want her nails painted and listening to her IPod. And Adam has taken up tennis. It was nice to be back in a l'Arche home, however briefly, that's been in existence for two decades, where things are a bit more simple, a bit less complicated. Even though Marilyn is out of control, it definitely feels calmer there. Perhaps it's the West Coast thing, as well. Things in the North-west are...nice. Green, organic, quirky, bike-friendly, with mountains that look like mountains rather than mole hills.
I wish I lived in Portland. I'm sure the hipness would grate on my after a while, but I'm still in my Let's-be-hip phase (with one foot out the door), so I think I could handle it for the time being. And I miss living with/near Melissa and Jacob. They live in a nice, tiny apartment with nuns...and rich people down the street. We watched a lot of movies and ate good Cuban Creole food (it exists!) and went to church a lot (take that!). Our friend Tim became Catholic at the Easter vigil service on Saturday night and that was exciting, especially the party afterwards where I stuffed myself with sweets and felt a bit ill. We celebrated Melissa's birthday on Easter, as well. She's old....27. I can't believe I'm going to be 24 next year. I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Dear Lord.
So...maybe I should postpone graduate school (again) and move out to Portland. Mom and Dad said they would follow if M/J and I decided to stay out there. Hmm....I love ending my posts with a thoughtful 'hmmm....'
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Blahgs
Hey, I followed in Ryan's footsteps and ALSO made a list of blogs....please let me know if you want me to take yours down (or put yours up).
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
The bug...
I'm getting the travel bug again, that itch under my skin to leave the country...FAST. We Americans do have a problem staying put...being invested in one place, commiting our time and energy to a specific community for the rest of our lives. We are a mobile people, rootless and roaming, like the band of hippie ministrals Matt and I saw this weekend at the peace protest. There's something about the nomadic life that is sexy and, I'm sure in many ways, idealized. But it's appealing, at least to us here in the Estados Unidos.
Then again, the nomadic life is exhausting, especially if you are doing it alone, traveling from place to place, starting over wherever you go, establishing relationships and then leaving again. Going from Gordon to Romania to Portland to DC in less than a year was a bit overwhelming. A little too much transitioning if you ask me. But as of right now, the thought of being here another year feels...weird. I'm not used to it. I'm only used to biting off small chunks of time, a few months here and there rather than entire years.
So that being said, I feel the urge to be...somewhere else, somewhere none-US. Somewhere African or Eastern European. Uganda has settled firmly in my heart and mind as The Country To Return To. And Romania doesn't beckon to me so much as the people who are still there -- Dana and Brandi and Diana and Victor. I miss them a lot. I love to travel. I love the awkward, fish-out-of-water feeling you have for the first month, and then I love settling into the place, learning obscure local lingo and lore, feeling "at home" in a new setting. I love the excitement of being surrounded by so many new things - new foods and sites and customs. There are a lots of hardships and frustrations with traveling, too, of course. But the enjoyments far outweigh them.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when I feel read to settle down, take root somewhere, a day when a one-year committment will seem like a piece of cake rather than something daunting. It's not that I'm non-committal. It's just that there are a gazillion things I'm interested in and want to do and see and experience. Trying to pin down just one and stick with it is....against my nature. But not unlearnable. I am doing a lot of things lately that are "against" my very nature...like bills and schedules and meetings gallore. We can all learn to do even the things we aren't good at and don't care to be good at.
I've talked to Steve about potentially visiting him in Cairo next winter. Or meeting up somewhere. We shall see.
Then again, the nomadic life is exhausting, especially if you are doing it alone, traveling from place to place, starting over wherever you go, establishing relationships and then leaving again. Going from Gordon to Romania to Portland to DC in less than a year was a bit overwhelming. A little too much transitioning if you ask me. But as of right now, the thought of being here another year feels...weird. I'm not used to it. I'm only used to biting off small chunks of time, a few months here and there rather than entire years.
So that being said, I feel the urge to be...somewhere else, somewhere none-US. Somewhere African or Eastern European. Uganda has settled firmly in my heart and mind as The Country To Return To. And Romania doesn't beckon to me so much as the people who are still there -- Dana and Brandi and Diana and Victor. I miss them a lot. I love to travel. I love the awkward, fish-out-of-water feeling you have for the first month, and then I love settling into the place, learning obscure local lingo and lore, feeling "at home" in a new setting. I love the excitement of being surrounded by so many new things - new foods and sites and customs. There are a lots of hardships and frustrations with traveling, too, of course. But the enjoyments far outweigh them.
I wonder if there will ever be a day when I feel read to settle down, take root somewhere, a day when a one-year committment will seem like a piece of cake rather than something daunting. It's not that I'm non-committal. It's just that there are a gazillion things I'm interested in and want to do and see and experience. Trying to pin down just one and stick with it is....against my nature. But not unlearnable. I am doing a lot of things lately that are "against" my very nature...like bills and schedules and meetings gallore. We can all learn to do even the things we aren't good at and don't care to be good at.
I've talked to Steve about potentially visiting him in Cairo next winter. Or meeting up somewhere. We shall see.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Some nice news....
Group Homes Get More Va. Funds
By Chris L. Jenkins
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, March 8, 2007; Page VA03
The General Assembly has dramatically expanded a program that provides community care to people with mental disabilities in Northern Virginia, approving funding that will add group home beds and pay more to agencies that offer services in the area.
During the 46-day legislative session that ended last month, lawmakers pumped enough money into the current $74 billion state budget so an additional 330 people with mental disabilities throughout Virginia will have access to community care, such as small group homes. Northern Virginia will likely receive about 60 of those slots, with the majority going to Fairfax County residents, said Alan Wooten, director of mental retardation services for the Fairfax-Falls Church Community Services Board.
In addition, state officials increased funding by $5 million to agencies in Northern Virginia that provide services to people with mental disabilities to help the agencies manage the high costs of doing business in the region. State reports estimate that the cost of providing those services in Northern Virginia is at least 30 percent higher than elsewhere in the state. Currently, agencies in the region are paid the same rate for their services as those elsewhere in Virginia.
The additional money will boost funding to Northern Virginia agencies by 15 percent, which will largely go toward increasing salaries to direct-care workers.
Advocates and state officials said the extra $5 million from the state will go a long way toward helping organizations stay in the region.
"This will go directly to paying our workers better," said Nancy Mercer, executive director of the Arc of Northern Virginia, which organized a regional push to get the extra $5 million from the state. Combined with federal funding, the region's agencies will get an increase of $10 million annually starting in fiscal 2008.
"We're also hoping that this will help our agencies here in Northern Virginia to stay and not have to move someplace else, where the cost of doing business is cheaper," Mercer said.
Advocates and officials said the higher compensation might encourage other agencies to open in Northern Virginia.
In all, Virginia allocated about $15 million statewide for those services this year, an amount advocates and state officials called significant.
The new funding will help whittle the long waiting list for services in the area. Nearly 950 Northern Virginians with mental disabilities get a Medicaid-funded waiver to receive services, largely group-home beds, in the community instead of being placed in institutions. Because of long-standing funding shortages, hundreds are on years-long waiting lists to receive community care, which generally costs less than institutionalizing people in large facilities downstate.
State officials and lawmakers said the General Assembly was swayed to make the investment this year because of a focused effort by advocates.
For nearly a year, advocates in Northern Virginia have been pressing lawmakers to help increase funding for the area's providers. Every Northern Virginia lawmaker signed onto the legislation to do so. In addition, the budget amendments were sponsored by area lawmakers, including Del. Vincent F. Callahan Jr. (R-Fairfax) and Sens. Janet D. Howell (D-Fairfax) and Charles J. Colgan (D-Prince William).
"The Northern Virginia advocates really pushed statewide, and the legislature heard them," Howell said.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The alternative version....
My dear friend Ryan, who seems to have serious disdain for my personality type (despite the fact we differ on one degree....take that!) left this 'alternative' version of Type 7 as a comment, but it was too funny to leave it there to collect dust, so I will post it here.
Opportunistic Idealism (Ennea-Type VII)
Gluttony, Fraudulence and Narcissism
Trait Structure
Gluttony
Hedonistic Permissiveness
Rebelliousness
Lack of Discipline
Imaginary Wish Fulfillment
Seductive Pleasingness
Narcissism
Persuasiveness
Fraudulence
I hae to say it, but he's pretty right on. Especially the "seductive pleasingness."
Opportunistic Idealism (Ennea-Type VII)
Gluttony, Fraudulence and Narcissism
Trait Structure
Gluttony
Hedonistic Permissiveness
Rebelliousness
Lack of Discipline
Imaginary Wish Fulfillment
Seductive Pleasingness
Narcissism
Persuasiveness
Fraudulence
I hae to say it, but he's pretty right on. Especially the "seductive pleasingness."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
