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Archive for the ‘reconciliation’ Category

Thoughts On Listening To *This Land Is Your Land”

 

I had a dream today, got me thinking,

On the bus on the way home from work,

A dream I’ve had before,

A dream many have probably had

I was on television, talking and singing,

The whole world was a’ watchin’

Woody Guthrie was a’ watchin’

Pete Seeger, he was a ’watchin’

Bruce Springsteen, he was a ’watchin’

And old orange face, Mr. Trump, he was a ’watchin’ too

Kept droppin’ the big TV remote outta his small hands, poor thing,

Anyways, like I said, I was on TV,

Had a guitar in my hands,

Strapped over my favorite flannel shirt,

And my favorite pair of Levis

And my bestest boots. I was a’ wearing all of that

And the song I was gonna sing,

This Land Is Your Land,

Well it weren’t no regular song, sir,

It was, I reckon, one of the most beautiful songs

I ever heard, I was telling people about it,

It was all about this country of ours,

And all its’ natural beauty,

And how it was built for you,

And built for me

And how it was built for him,

And him,

And her

And her

And the preacher

And the doctor

And the lawman

And the bus driver

And the children playing in the schoolyard,

Sir it was built for them too,

It didn’t make no mention of names

Nor what school they went to,

Nor even if they didn’t go to school, well it didn’t mention that neither

Nor what church they go to, who they pray to, iffn they pray at all,

No, sir, not even where they come from,

Not which part of town, not which coast,

Not which country,

Cuz everybody here comes from someplace else in the long run, don’t they?

Iffn ya trace it back far enough, I mean, we all come from immigrants

– Well, almost all of us –

Yes, sir, the song was plain and simple and beautiful, and indeed

This here land was made for you, and me, and him, and him, and her, and her

All to share equally, don’t that sound like a place you wanna live in, sir?

I know I would, if I could find it.

What say we find it together, sir?

 

 

Click the link below to listen to This Land is Your Land – Live by Bruce Springsteen
https://open.spotify.com/track/4MvJlIpDpdZi4sCXvAhrym

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This is the first of posts about the US election and the victory of Mr. Trump. I must admit I’m still processing my feelings, dealing with my shock, my bitterness, my anger and a very deep sorrow, among other feelings. I hope to post my own reactions soon, and am hoping, dear reader, that they will be something more positive, as much as possible, than what I’ve been writing on the privacy of my own computer.

I hope you find the article helpful, if not enlightening.

Don’t Bite The Hook

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Just in case Rump or those who vote for him might wonder, it IS the people who have the power! In one sense it was shown in last nights results, in that a large unhappy part of the population took their frustrations out on Washington D.C. and truly made themselves heard. As Hillary Clinton said, we found out that we are a much more divided country than we thought. Oh how i wish it had taken another form. It is typical for the outcast, the underpriviledged white angry male voter to turn to fascism. It happened in Germany and it’s happening now across europe and today in the USA. Our job is to listen better and find ways to fight off Rump and his insanity all the while working to heal a nation divided and in a great deal of pain.
#NowPlaying People Have The Power – Live by Patti Smith

https://open.spotify.com/track/3AMTprQwcxLj0b5NZoS5d7

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Harriet Tubman On The Hilltops Of Heaven

 

Prayed as she tossed stones down

Into the valley of remembrance.

And each she offered with a prayer,

A word of blessing to each name

Written one by one on each stone.

 

To those both named and unnamed,

The mild and the strong,

The wretched and the saints.

To each life ripped away by hatred

Those who empowered

Those who oppressed

Everyone who hid behind walls

Those who stood to be counted

Those who were beaten down.

Those who saw their own death

Written in front of their eyes

On burning crosses

Spread across Mother Earths bosom.

Who saw their children’s souls ascend and

Cried the tears of Virgin Mary.

Those who at the moment of death

Saw their own fate reflected

In the futures of their children.

Those whose lives were filled with fear,

Those who heard unforgotten words of hate

In their dead ears for centuries.

Those who touched the sky,

Those who could barely crawl,

Those killed because they ran,

Those hung from trees,

Those dragged into the earth,

Those whose wounds bled for generations.

Those who believed blindly,

Those who suffered the lies in silence,

And those who knew a lie for a lie

And died trying to teach.

 

When she ran out of stones

Her cry was heard throughout the universe

For there were so many more names than stones

 

 

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In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Muslims, Jews, Christians all lived together in relative peace in Jerusalem, a center of what was then the Ottoman Empire. It was multi- cultural, open minded and peaceful. There was a film made way back in 1913 that reflected the beginning of change. This brilliant documentary is a MUST SEE if you wish to begin to get a larger understanding of what has happened since.

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I will see nothing
But the children of peace
Their hair spread against the wind
Like the wings of angels

I will hear nothing
From the tombs of your dead
But the voices from my own thoughts
Like the salve of the ages

I will not open my door
To you as a visitor
Bringing your unrepentant anger
To my thirsty soul

I will no longer dance
With you parents of war
Your darkness blots out
The light from my feet

I will not see your world
Nor read your newspaper
Not hear your symphony
I will not say your prayers
But those which I make myself
The words of empowerment
The songs of unison

I will not drink at your table
I will not eat of your meat
You have no nourishment
To offer such a one as I

The end of the world
As you know it
Will be our only salvation

I will not die
Until we, all of us,
Can die under peaceful skies
Our souls drifting quietly across the sunset
Like a shroud of the finest linen

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IMG_9964

 

 

Loosely translated, the above caption means I am NOT Charlie, but NO ONE will stop me from expressing myself. 

 

  This is a tough one, to be honest. There are boundaries to free speech, in some countries one cannot without valid reason legally shout the word “FIRE” in a crowded theater, for example. In other countries blasphemy is punishable by death. It is illegal to threaten the life of the US President, as another example.(that one has caused me to bite my tongue on occasion, just kidding)  One CAN do these things, but there may be ramifications. Where does it stop?  Where is the line crossed from satire to blasphemy and who decides where the line is drawn? The reader? The public? The police or legal system?  If someone were to tell me they idolized Adolf Hitler or Benjamin Netanyahu it would probably irritate the hell out of me, but certainly that isn’t sufficient reason to kill them, is it? If someone were to show me a pornographic rendition of Jesus Christ, it would certainly make me question their judgement and taste level, but is it right for me to shoot them?

If I may speak in generalizations for a moment, allow me to say that while I am not a Francophil in the classic sense, I love the France, Paris and the French. I love their passion, their contradictions, their art and poetry, their love of life. I would have easily joined in the resistance to fight the nazis as I would have to fight Franco in Spain. Anyone who knows me well knows this.  OK,, I even have to say I love Depardieu, or at least I did up to a point. One of of the things they do best is satire. They are masters at it and have been for centuries. As far back as Moliere and Voltaire at least. They have a wonderful irreverence that makes it natural for them. To hear that a French magazine such as Charlie Hebdo is writing pieces or publishing drawings satirizing religion, be it Christian, Jewish, or Islam, comes as no surprise to me, for exactly the reasons i mentioned above. A satirical humour is practically inbred, part and parcel of being French, if I may say so. However, saying that, I have to wonder if there are limits to what is satire and what is a slap in the face.

I suppose it has to do with how one perceives the INTENTION of the satirist. Is it their intent to give us a slightly evil laugh at our own foibles, fuckups and inconsistencies, a wink, a nudge or a push towards the reflection we give off in the mirror as we go about our lives? I am no expert on satire. I wish I had the gift. I love it when it’s good. I love it when I can laugh at it, and at myself and at my own foolishness.

I’m NOT implying that I agree with the murderers. Of course not. NOTHING ABSOLVES ONE FROM MURDER. I have heard reports that a “more calm group” of Muslims has taken Charlie Hebdo to court several times, to seek a legal means of settling the issue. As everyone reading has probably heard by now. apparently the Koran does not allow one to do ANY visual representation of the prophet Mohammed, be it in a drawing based upon their Muslim belief or certainly not in a satirical or provocative sense. It is, according to common interpretation, a crime punishable by death. In the Old Testament of the Bible, there were many crimes punishable by death. Adultery, theft, murder, and blasphemy were among the things that could lead to you to being stoned to death. That is the religious heritage of the West.It IS dreadful and still continues in those countries with the death penalty. Those facts are indisputable. In the Islamic faith, they still hold fast to an even harsher interpretation, at least in those areas that are more, what shall i say, closer to tradition, or in the more common word, “Extremist. We may find them abhorrent. I know that I do.  It’s easy to judge from the outside. We have every right to our own opinions on this. As I stated above the common belief is that murder is a crime against humanity, but then, in my opinion so is capitalism. Shall we shoot the bankers? (There’s a thought!)

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