Monday, February 25, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
An Afternoon's Journey
My friend wrote a piece the other day on her blog that stirred me. It is an afternoon’s journey into the meaning of life -- her life.
For the past three years I have watched that life flow alongside mine in ever changing bends and turns. During that time we sat together often comparing notes on motherhood and its effects on the female biography.
On those warm rainy nights under a canvas of hibiscus shrubs, tucked away from the world with nothing but a bottle of red between us, we hatched daring plans to overcome the schism between our ever pulsing productive and reproductive forces.
We were daring enough then to stare the world right into its ferocious eyes and holler, “Is that all you’ve got?”
It was a fun time. A time of reckoning as much as of madness and sheer exuberance. We did end up producing several shows for a podcast, I started womazzle.com, and she wrote several excellent pieces on her blog, motherjungle.com.
But of course, life did have more coming for us. And, being the good girls we are, we took it on.
In the past months, we both moved on to new lives. Major changes have marked the currents of our daily routines, and the minute by minute management of motherhood has once again flung a tight bridle over my head.
But in a way, that short awakening of the Spring 2007 has given me hope. After long years of brooding silence I now allow my mind to wander off and, once again, question what I see.
Unlike the years before, I now am optimistic that no matter how irrelevant my existence and how unmemorable the sum of my thoughts and actions may be, I am determined to make the best of it.
It is my life, after all, and I am here to live it.
For the past three years I have watched that life flow alongside mine in ever changing bends and turns. During that time we sat together often comparing notes on motherhood and its effects on the female biography.
On those warm rainy nights under a canvas of hibiscus shrubs, tucked away from the world with nothing but a bottle of red between us, we hatched daring plans to overcome the schism between our ever pulsing productive and reproductive forces.
We were daring enough then to stare the world right into its ferocious eyes and holler, “Is that all you’ve got?”
It was a fun time. A time of reckoning as much as of madness and sheer exuberance. We did end up producing several shows for a podcast, I started womazzle.com, and she wrote several excellent pieces on her blog, motherjungle.com.
But of course, life did have more coming for us. And, being the good girls we are, we took it on.
In the past months, we both moved on to new lives. Major changes have marked the currents of our daily routines, and the minute by minute management of motherhood has once again flung a tight bridle over my head.
But in a way, that short awakening of the Spring 2007 has given me hope. After long years of brooding silence I now allow my mind to wander off and, once again, question what I see.
Unlike the years before, I now am optimistic that no matter how irrelevant my existence and how unmemorable the sum of my thoughts and actions may be, I am determined to make the best of it.
It is my life, after all, and I am here to live it.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
You Gotta Be Nuts
CNN today entitled one of its top stories “Female Bomber Blows Up Baghdad Store.” Perhaps this was done in a quest to draw our attention (once again) to the ongoing violence in Iraq.
Just like in other regions where reports of ongoing violence have reduced our ability to engage our thoughts and emotions for more than a fleeting moment, the waves of suicide bombings in Iraq have numbed our empathy.
After all, it’s always the same, isn’t it? Moslem male gets promised sexual liberation in the after-life in exchange for a violent jihadist exit out of this life. So he goes and blows up a market.
It is disturbing as much as it is insane. And yet, the bomber’s gender is so consistent that we don’t even mention that the killer is male.
But not this time. Here we have a female bomber. That changes everything. At least for a second or two...just enough to make us linger on the page a little longer, maybe even click on the article.
I clicked, because I wanted to see whether the article went into the gender issue. It didn’t.
However, it did lead on to another article that revealed that the woman was an inpatient with a psychiatric disorder and that, once again Al Qaeda (a male dominated organization), was behind this most recent suicide attack.
And yes, you gotta be nuts to do what they tell you to do.
I would think that’s a worthwhile conclusion. One no one will print, of course.
Just like in other regions where reports of ongoing violence have reduced our ability to engage our thoughts and emotions for more than a fleeting moment, the waves of suicide bombings in Iraq have numbed our empathy.
After all, it’s always the same, isn’t it? Moslem male gets promised sexual liberation in the after-life in exchange for a violent jihadist exit out of this life. So he goes and blows up a market.
It is disturbing as much as it is insane. And yet, the bomber’s gender is so consistent that we don’t even mention that the killer is male.
But not this time. Here we have a female bomber. That changes everything. At least for a second or two...just enough to make us linger on the page a little longer, maybe even click on the article.
I clicked, because I wanted to see whether the article went into the gender issue. It didn’t.
However, it did lead on to another article that revealed that the woman was an inpatient with a psychiatric disorder and that, once again Al Qaeda (a male dominated organization), was behind this most recent suicide attack.
And yes, you gotta be nuts to do what they tell you to do.
I would think that’s a worthwhile conclusion. One no one will print, of course.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Calmer Waters
So here we are in our quaint little house on this quaint little street in this (you guessed it) quaint little town in the U.K.
As I am sitting here in the smallest and most crowded room of our house and look out of my gabled window onto the sun glazed white walls of our neighbors’ house across the street, I can hardly believe that after all these years I have made it back to where I came from: the middle class Europe of my childhood.
Although still alive and well, the middle class seems to be struggling a little more now than when I was growing up. The basic desire to “get ahead” is weighing upon people in this world that is ever more...I think ‘global’ is the word.
For example, a lot of money, time, and energy is dedicated to placing one’s off-spring at good schools and pursuing worthwhile after-school activities. But all and all being middle class in Europe is still a good place to be since the same old values that keep it all together still prevail. Foremost is that sense of caring about community and what’s good for everyone. The ideal of sharing one’s fortune and contributing to the common good is another.
There are well maintained parks that one can walk in at any time, there are libraries, museums, pools, playgrounds, sidewalks, crosswalks, recycling facilities, and lots of ways to meet the neighbors. There is a sense of civility based on the underlying certainty that the golden rule holds sway.
There also is reason to believe that everyone is taken care of and that there is enough for everyone to go around. And in my opinion, that precisely is the way to achieve quality of life.
Of course, it is great to strive upwards but not as much as when everyone moves ahead and shares in the happiness and good fortune.
What good is it, after all, to have a private tennis court, pool, waterfront, and two or three cars if wealth and security ends on the other side of the barbed wired fence of one’s own property? It is nothing but the proverbial golden cage!
That was what life was like in Costa Rica and as it is that’s what life is like wherever the sense of community has been washed away by the personal greed of a few.
It was sad to see a beautiful country and its middle class exploited by big money. And it is disheartening that Costa Rica isn’t by far the worst case in the world.
These days, the governments that try to mitigate the impact of a capitalist economy are struggling. In fact, there are fewer attempting that now than there were twenty years ago.
Fred would probably state with sincere darwinistic conviction that that proves that capitalism is superior.
I would, of course, venture to say that that proves nothing but our human weakness because, in the end, capitalism, too, will die leaving behind uncounted casualties, one of which might be our planet.
As a matter of fact, what makes capitalism so dangerous is that it taps into our primordial and ever nagging fear that unless we secure that next bit for ourselves, we and our kin, and therefore our gene pool, won’t make it.
That fear is a formidable force to reckon with. In fact, it is also stupid, because as we all should remember, human beings would not even exist any longer if it hadn’t been for their ability to coexist and cooperate with each other.
However, if left unbridled, that primitive fear will take over and only die with us.
In a way, it is only natural that fear becomes most virulent in us when we see others beginning to grab and hoard. That is precisely the point when the social contract that lies at the base of our peaceful coexistence starts to crack and the rule of the strongest reestablishes its brutal reign.
I am not blind to the changes I see around me even here, but for now I enjoy being in quieter waters again. The Americas were stressful even when we managed to find little niches here and there where life was still a thing to enjoy with others.
As I am sitting here in the smallest and most crowded room of our house and look out of my gabled window onto the sun glazed white walls of our neighbors’ house across the street, I can hardly believe that after all these years I have made it back to where I came from: the middle class Europe of my childhood.
Although still alive and well, the middle class seems to be struggling a little more now than when I was growing up. The basic desire to “get ahead” is weighing upon people in this world that is ever more...I think ‘global’ is the word.
For example, a lot of money, time, and energy is dedicated to placing one’s off-spring at good schools and pursuing worthwhile after-school activities. But all and all being middle class in Europe is still a good place to be since the same old values that keep it all together still prevail. Foremost is that sense of caring about community and what’s good for everyone. The ideal of sharing one’s fortune and contributing to the common good is another.
There are well maintained parks that one can walk in at any time, there are libraries, museums, pools, playgrounds, sidewalks, crosswalks, recycling facilities, and lots of ways to meet the neighbors. There is a sense of civility based on the underlying certainty that the golden rule holds sway.
There also is reason to believe that everyone is taken care of and that there is enough for everyone to go around. And in my opinion, that precisely is the way to achieve quality of life.
Of course, it is great to strive upwards but not as much as when everyone moves ahead and shares in the happiness and good fortune.
What good is it, after all, to have a private tennis court, pool, waterfront, and two or three cars if wealth and security ends on the other side of the barbed wired fence of one’s own property? It is nothing but the proverbial golden cage!
That was what life was like in Costa Rica and as it is that’s what life is like wherever the sense of community has been washed away by the personal greed of a few.
It was sad to see a beautiful country and its middle class exploited by big money. And it is disheartening that Costa Rica isn’t by far the worst case in the world.
These days, the governments that try to mitigate the impact of a capitalist economy are struggling. In fact, there are fewer attempting that now than there were twenty years ago.
Fred would probably state with sincere darwinistic conviction that that proves that capitalism is superior.
I would, of course, venture to say that that proves nothing but our human weakness because, in the end, capitalism, too, will die leaving behind uncounted casualties, one of which might be our planet.
As a matter of fact, what makes capitalism so dangerous is that it taps into our primordial and ever nagging fear that unless we secure that next bit for ourselves, we and our kin, and therefore our gene pool, won’t make it.
That fear is a formidable force to reckon with. In fact, it is also stupid, because as we all should remember, human beings would not even exist any longer if it hadn’t been for their ability to coexist and cooperate with each other.
However, if left unbridled, that primitive fear will take over and only die with us.
In a way, it is only natural that fear becomes most virulent in us when we see others beginning to grab and hoard. That is precisely the point when the social contract that lies at the base of our peaceful coexistence starts to crack and the rule of the strongest reestablishes its brutal reign.
I am not blind to the changes I see around me even here, but for now I enjoy being in quieter waters again. The Americas were stressful even when we managed to find little niches here and there where life was still a thing to enjoy with others.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Done Pulling
I am getting down to pulling out the last of my gray hairs. Therefore, no more hair pulling for right now. It is a rather time intensive activity anyway and doesn’t get either my DVD player or vacuum cleaner cooperating in a more suitable way.
Of course, I really feel the urge to holler at my newly acquired U.K. appliances, “Shape up you buggers or else!” But all I would get in return is reproachful silence, and I don’t take that very well.
The good news is that now that all the hair pulling is done, I actually have managed not only to locate my iPod among all the still to be emptied boxes and cartons, I also was able to download some of my favorite podcasts (thanks again to this friendly and generous wireless neighborhood).
So this Saturday morning in this wonderful U. K., with Bill Moyers and Barbara Ehrenreich whispering into my ears, my life never looked brighter.
If you had seen me then, however, you would have wondered what possibly could have brought me to that conclusion.
After all, there I was clad in a ‘borrowed’, slightly faded bathrobe from one of Matt’s work trips, puke green rubber gardening clocks on my barefoot feet, and the filth of many days in my hair, not to mention the acid smell of hard labor exuding from my armpits.
Around me nothing but more filth and sorry disarray and with me nothing but a mop and unyielding determination.
But I can tell you that after four years of not touching neither pail nor broom, it feels good to do some dirty work again. Because during these last years it actually never seemed quite right to skip off to the Country Club while someone less fortunate swept our floors on a Saturday morning.
It feels good not only because the decent thing to do is in fact to clean up after oneself, but also because accomplishing something so desperately needed leads to satisfaction.
I may be stealing somebody’s job by cleaning up my own mess these days but then, with the cost of living in the U.K., it’s not likely that I am ever going to be a good employer anyway.
I am down to offering nothing but minimum wage and no benefits and only my children will accept that for now.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Brand New Everything
We have now moved on to the U.K. where we hope to find a new life. And as far as I can tell we got what we wished for because everything is new.
Apart from the obvious novelty of driving on the wrong side (and, sorry, dear Brits, it is rather wrong of you to insist on twisting our poor continental minds in this brutal manner), with the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car (ditto), we as a family also decided to switch from automatic to manual and from gasoline to diesel.
That means that driving has become a thing best to be avoided. Not bad really considering my endless diatribes on cars, driving, and the car culture. The problem, however, is that everyone else is still driving. The only one stuck in her over-prized townhouse is me.
The last time I ventured out to hunt down some dearly needed sushi, I came home with a giant headache and decided that it wasn’t really that dearly needed after all.
Nothing really is, and so I now stay put most of the time. My children keep eying the gapingly empty shelves of our fridge, which actually fill me with quiet satisfaction, while my head remains fresh and clear ready for the other tasks that await me.
There is, for instance, our new vacuum cleaner, a masterpiece of German engineering. It has, however, refused to vacuum the green carpet as well as it cleans all the others. Since most of the floors in our house are covered in that same green carpet I have been kept fairly occupied trouble shooting.
Apart from that, all our electrical appliances are beeping and sending error messages and the internet only works because we are bumming off of one of our generous neighbors.
No need, therefore, to hop into the car and marvel at all that’s wrong out there. There is enough to pull my hair out over in here.
Excellent!
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