Don't you?
Not in God, neccesarily.
Maybe in aliens, or life in outer space. Thats what some scientists substitute for faith.
Possibly in capitalism, or marxism or humanitarianism. On my mother's side, we adapted a kind of soft socialism. I had some remarkable ancestors, who weren't at all religious and did a lot of good work.
Perhaps you are a huge Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens fan -- it's your decade to be a little smug.
Or maybe you believe in the Grateful Dead. Tender is the memory of sharing music, brownies and smokes with thousands of other fans. Hard to explain if you weren't there. I wasn't there, and I've never really "gotten it".
Perhaps you try not to believe -- there have been times in my own walk when I loved the questions and didn't want to look for any answer.
That being said -- most of us are wired to have faith in something, or someone. So don't be so tough on that atheist in the office across from you, or the conservative Christian in your hiking club. They are only being human.
Which doesn't tell you about the existence of God -- just that atheists too have faith.
mercredi, octobre 28, 2009
samedi, octobre 24, 2009
The dreams they dream
It seems as though I've listened to lots of stories about children's dreams recently as I drove around the area. Or perhaps I'm hearing what was so often there...
As far away as an ocean and a continent, as close as tears.
A high school student in a Chicago ghetto, dreaming of attending college on a scholarship, an innocent bystander gunned down as he walked home a few weeks ago.
A Russian boy penning notes in a diary -- fantasies of bread and candy and potatoes as he starved in the siege of Leningrad during World War II.
Children in a Washington charter school, wondering what it would be like if beating them up wasn't way of initiating members into a D.C. gang.
Though no area is totally safe from violence, my kids by and large don't have to worry about being shot on the way to school.
They have enough to eat -- a lot more than enough. "Remember families tonight who are praying for food" said the leader of a local youth group, as he took the sixth and seventh graders out on a local food tour, from McDonald's to Dairy Queen to the WaWa.
These children are wanting what so many of us simply take for granted.
And don't they deserve it as much as our children?
To whom much is given, much is required -- that's what Jesus said to his followers.
I happen to believe that children's dreams are sacred-- whether they are those of immigrants or rural Southerners or the mostly white, Indian and Asian kids who live near us. What do you believe?
And, more to the point, what can we (I, you) do to help other's people children survive long enough to enroll in that college, attend that prom, find the right dress for the job...or have a slice of bread without the bombs falling, and the sirens blaring and the brutal murder of hope.
No child deserves that -- do they?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yt-IBJpEMzA
As far away as an ocean and a continent, as close as tears.
A high school student in a Chicago ghetto, dreaming of attending college on a scholarship, an innocent bystander gunned down as he walked home a few weeks ago.
A Russian boy penning notes in a diary -- fantasies of bread and candy and potatoes as he starved in the siege of Leningrad during World War II.
Children in a Washington charter school, wondering what it would be like if beating them up wasn't way of initiating members into a D.C. gang.
Though no area is totally safe from violence, my kids by and large don't have to worry about being shot on the way to school.
They have enough to eat -- a lot more than enough. "Remember families tonight who are praying for food" said the leader of a local youth group, as he took the sixth and seventh graders out on a local food tour, from McDonald's to Dairy Queen to the WaWa.
These children are wanting what so many of us simply take for granted.
And don't they deserve it as much as our children?
To whom much is given, much is required -- that's what Jesus said to his followers.
I happen to believe that children's dreams are sacred-- whether they are those of immigrants or rural Southerners or the mostly white, Indian and Asian kids who live near us. What do you believe?
And, more to the point, what can we (I, you) do to help other's people children survive long enough to enroll in that college, attend that prom, find the right dress for the job...or have a slice of bread without the bombs falling, and the sirens blaring and the brutal murder of hope.
No child deserves that -- do they?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yt-IBJpEMzA
mercredi, octobre 21, 2009
Views and trolls
OK, so I post this new picture on the dating site (in this case, a rather ironic name).
Personally (if I may offer a "personally") I don't think it's too bad.
I get around 150 guys viewing it -- or maybe guys viewing it multiple times. OR maybe it's the SAME person viewing it 150 times.
And about 50 winks -- mostly from trolls.
But only one man actually writes -- something like "I like your profile. You are sexy."
Well -- how does he know? Did he see something 149 other men didn't -- or did he mean to write the 27 year old in the next profile down?
Many of the men on this dating website my age want to date younger women. And they seem to spend months, even years, waiting for that 30 something to realize how incredibly virile they are. Executives, or guys with lots of money, often can actually date 20-somethings. Only I don't think it makes them very happy.
John Fowles does a wonderful job of describing this situation in a novel he wrote about 30 years ago -- about a movie producer and the starlet he's bedding. And not a hell of a lot has changed. Only in the novel...OK, I won't tell you what happens.
Apparently, from what I picked up in a recent NY Times story, men my age don't even like women their own age. But as I wrote a fellow ten years older than me: you might be missing the perfect woman your own age.
Knowing what I do about these men makes me wonder if dating is what I need to be doing.
Maybe I should take up curling, like my friend Allen.
Or fine sewing like my friend Salin (married friend Salin).
Or maybe I should try a few more craft brews.
Any advice?
vendredi, octobre 16, 2009
Closeting the shingle
I think it's time, I said to a therapist friend last night. Then I stopped, a little anxious at my own daring. I think it's time, I said softly, to start thinking more about myself.
Duh! she said. Well, not in so many words.
Iwas still a little surprised. You see, I don't have a martyr's habits. I don't "sacrifice" myself for my kids -- and let everyone know. I don't deny myself the eye shadow, or the velvet jacket (on sale, of course). I buy milk chocolate and strong tea from England (dark comes from Trader Joes).
But, like many mothers, I tend to live in the shadow's of my kids crushes, academic successes, failures, jokes, friendships. Given the chance to hang out with my children or go out on a date, I'll almost invariably choose the kids.
Where does responsible parenting end and, eh, fear begin? Or cynicism? I've protected my children from any hint that there have been, for fleeting moments, men in my life. They don't need to be dragged into it, I reason. It's better that they know I'm here if they need me.
Easier to be the counselor, the confessor, the journalist, than the lover.
But I've got the sense that this might care have been as much for my sake, as it was for my children. Daring to imagine a relationship -- how do I start?
Duh! she said. Well, not in so many words.
Iwas still a little surprised. You see, I don't have a martyr's habits. I don't "sacrifice" myself for my kids -- and let everyone know. I don't deny myself the eye shadow, or the velvet jacket (on sale, of course). I buy milk chocolate and strong tea from England (dark comes from Trader Joes).
But, like many mothers, I tend to live in the shadow's of my kids crushes, academic successes, failures, jokes, friendships. Given the chance to hang out with my children or go out on a date, I'll almost invariably choose the kids.
Where does responsible parenting end and, eh, fear begin? Or cynicism? I've protected my children from any hint that there have been, for fleeting moments, men in my life. They don't need to be dragged into it, I reason. It's better that they know I'm here if they need me.
Easier to be the counselor, the confessor, the journalist, than the lover.
But I've got the sense that this might care have been as much for my sake, as it was for my children. Daring to imagine a relationship -- how do I start?
mardi, octobre 13, 2009
Senseless acts of violence
I wonder if my son, who is rather gentle and trusting, will begin to not trust girls.
After all, in the past four months a 16 year old girl hit him on the right ear, perforating it in 2 places.
Yesterday he was in the school cafetorium when a girl his own age, Clair, hit him on the forehead.
Why was Clair provoked? Because, apparently, Mr. C said he was thinking of inviting another girl to the Halloween dance.
Now Clair doesn't even like my Mr. C. She told the principal she doesn't know why she hit a boy she calls "boxhead."
Detention. It doesn't seem like she's being punished enough, but frankly, I could give a flying fig for Clair. It's the boy, chuckling with his friends, red mark on his forehead, dizzy in the nurses office, talking to the principal -- he matters to me.
As your kids grow, they spend more and more time away from you -- mostly beneficial, sometimes boring, and occasionally traumatic. Let this not have been one of the last.
After all, in the past four months a 16 year old girl hit him on the right ear, perforating it in 2 places.
Yesterday he was in the school cafetorium when a girl his own age, Clair, hit him on the forehead.
Why was Clair provoked? Because, apparently, Mr. C said he was thinking of inviting another girl to the Halloween dance.
Now Clair doesn't even like my Mr. C. She told the principal she doesn't know why she hit a boy she calls "boxhead."
Detention. It doesn't seem like she's being punished enough, but frankly, I could give a flying fig for Clair. It's the boy, chuckling with his friends, red mark on his forehead, dizzy in the nurses office, talking to the principal -- he matters to me.
As your kids grow, they spend more and more time away from you -- mostly beneficial, sometimes boring, and occasionally traumatic. Let this not have been one of the last.
samedi, octobre 10, 2009
mercredi, octobre 07, 2009
Why aren't women happier?
Did you hear that women are less happy then men?
That's what a recent study says.
You'd think that with all of our choices, we'd be having more fun, but apparently more choices may provide more stress.
Also, married women are probably doing a bigger share of the domestic chores...and their job and childcare.
But that still doesn't completely explain it. The folks who led the study talked to single women, divorced women, and married women.
Maybe they didn't talk to nuns. I interviewed two today, enclosed behind grilles, and they seem pretty happy. I wonder what they might know that we don't.
That's what a recent study says.
You'd think that with all of our choices, we'd be having more fun, but apparently more choices may provide more stress.
Also, married women are probably doing a bigger share of the domestic chores...and their job and childcare.
But that still doesn't completely explain it. The folks who led the study talked to single women, divorced women, and married women.
Maybe they didn't talk to nuns. I interviewed two today, enclosed behind grilles, and they seem pretty happy. I wonder what they might know that we don't.
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