I am always amazed at how things change. I shouldn't be surprised since in my entire life the consistent element has been change. Usually I find when I look back along the tracks behind me that the changes took me exactly where I most wanted to go. Or at least to a place where I was more at peace with who I am and the reality that surrounds me.
I will not be taking the train cross country this summer. Consequently, I will be returning the donations that were so generously offered. You have my deep gratitude not only for financially supporting me but sharing my vision. It was a wonderful exercise of faith for me, and I hope for each of you who joined me.
I am disappointed not to be going on this adventure. But I know the focus of my attention needs to be shifted in another direction. There are higher priorities right now than adventure. I have to say I never thought I'd articulate that!
But in this syrup sweet day in Vermont when the air is fresh and fragrant, I can't really regret not leaving to travel. There are times, and this is one, when home is the best place to be.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Can a popular movement happen?
Reading, this past week, about the massive protests in Iran I am perplexed. In this very repressive society mass protests are filling the streets. In this closed and almost inflexible theocracy, citizens are apparently protesting the outcome of an election. Seeing the images, hearing the rhetoric of Obama and others I can only wonder. I wonder about several things.
1) Why when an election was called in this country amidst clear voting irregularities, did no one fill the streets of our major cities? We never, I include myself here, got up off the couch or out of our cubicles to demand redress of this situation. No one DID anything. I wonder why, in a country with a history of protest and activism, nothing happened.
2) In recent years when protesters have filled the streets in the US, there have been beatings, arrest and/or detention of journalists, and suppression of facts and news about the protests. The lid was firmly held on the reports of beatings, abuse, and excessive force that were the reaction by all levels of law enforcement. Yet in Iran, where supposedly there is incredible suppression of information; video and photos and reports are getting out about the scope and nature of both the protests and of the governments response. We actually have video of a protester dying and we know her name. I wonder how that can be. How can this discrepancy be explained? How can information be managed so effectively, in both cases, without some oversight and goal setting?
3) Can the protests in Iran actually be coming out of individual outrage and a personal desire for change and justice? Or are they being orchestrated by someone? I want to believe this is a popular movement. I want to believe that there aren't foreign dollars/euros/pounds making it happen. I want to believe that the videos and photos we are seeing are actually being taken on someone's cell phone. I want to believe the first-hand reports are authentic. But is that even possible? And if possible, then how would major news outlets across the globe be so accessible for this unverified information?
I do wonder about those and other things. I wonder if the time when we could sort the chaos and sift out the truth has passed. I wonder if the idea of a popular movement enacting real change through non-violent protest was a dream. No, not a dream but an actual fantasy. Did we just make that up?
I do know that there are so many more things going on than I can possible know about. I know that power is being handled in ways I cannot even imagine. I believe that governments are shifting all the time but my attention is only brought to it if it serves to support the status quo.
I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if protests and demonstrations and petitions can have an effect any longer. I don't know if they ever did. I recall standing near a bridge that led from Virginia to DC during the 1971 protest to shut down the government. There were hundred of thousands of protesters stopping traffic and filling the streets. But all across the bridge, shoulder to shoulder, stood Marines - helmeted, armed, and serious. They lined all the bridges I could see. At that moment I was overwhelmed by the government's power. How can we ever hope to defeat an opponent who is so strong and has all the guns and training to dominate? I have never received an answer to that question that gave me any realistic assurance.
So I look at these reports and I wonder. Is any part of it true? What part? How true and in what way? And does it ultimately matter?
The last thing I am wondering is if popular protests and direct action can no longer be trusted what devices will work change? What will make a difference and how will we know it has?
1) Why when an election was called in this country amidst clear voting irregularities, did no one fill the streets of our major cities? We never, I include myself here, got up off the couch or out of our cubicles to demand redress of this situation. No one DID anything. I wonder why, in a country with a history of protest and activism, nothing happened.
2) In recent years when protesters have filled the streets in the US, there have been beatings, arrest and/or detention of journalists, and suppression of facts and news about the protests. The lid was firmly held on the reports of beatings, abuse, and excessive force that were the reaction by all levels of law enforcement. Yet in Iran, where supposedly there is incredible suppression of information; video and photos and reports are getting out about the scope and nature of both the protests and of the governments response. We actually have video of a protester dying and we know her name. I wonder how that can be. How can this discrepancy be explained? How can information be managed so effectively, in both cases, without some oversight and goal setting?
3) Can the protests in Iran actually be coming out of individual outrage and a personal desire for change and justice? Or are they being orchestrated by someone? I want to believe this is a popular movement. I want to believe that there aren't foreign dollars/euros/pounds making it happen. I want to believe that the videos and photos we are seeing are actually being taken on someone's cell phone. I want to believe the first-hand reports are authentic. But is that even possible? And if possible, then how would major news outlets across the globe be so accessible for this unverified information?
I do wonder about those and other things. I wonder if the time when we could sort the chaos and sift out the truth has passed. I wonder if the idea of a popular movement enacting real change through non-violent protest was a dream. No, not a dream but an actual fantasy. Did we just make that up?
I do know that there are so many more things going on than I can possible know about. I know that power is being handled in ways I cannot even imagine. I believe that governments are shifting all the time but my attention is only brought to it if it serves to support the status quo.
I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if protests and demonstrations and petitions can have an effect any longer. I don't know if they ever did. I recall standing near a bridge that led from Virginia to DC during the 1971 protest to shut down the government. There were hundred of thousands of protesters stopping traffic and filling the streets. But all across the bridge, shoulder to shoulder, stood Marines - helmeted, armed, and serious. They lined all the bridges I could see. At that moment I was overwhelmed by the government's power. How can we ever hope to defeat an opponent who is so strong and has all the guns and training to dominate? I have never received an answer to that question that gave me any realistic assurance.
So I look at these reports and I wonder. Is any part of it true? What part? How true and in what way? And does it ultimately matter?
The last thing I am wondering is if popular protests and direct action can no longer be trusted what devices will work change? What will make a difference and how will we know it has?
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Writing for a ride
I invite you to join me on a cross country train trip through the magic of the internet. This is a carbon footprint-reducing/creative writing project to fund a environmental choice I am making. Let me explain.
This August I need to travel from Vermont to Vancouver, BC to teach at BC Witchcamp. In an effort to reduce my carbon footprint this year, I’m setting the intention to make this trip via train rather than flying. Train travel will cost about $1800 round trip. I can raise about $900 from confirmed sources but I need your help to raise the rest.
I’d like to offer an exchange of my writing for your financial support for this ride. I have set up a members-only blog to share the experience. Each of you who contributes will receive the URL so you can log in and travel across country with me as it happens. In addition, for anyone who contributes $40 or more I will send you a signed copy of my book, Earth Psalms. www.angelamagara.com
I am hopeful that the lure of reading about a journey across North America made with consciousness and awareness will call to you. I look forward to sharing this trip with many of you.
To make a contribution go to
www.paypal.com
and enter my email address
angelafromthecenter@gmail.com
If you have questions or need more information please contact me at that email address.
Thanks again.
All aboard!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
graduation thoughts
I just attended my son’s graduation from Harvard Extension. This program is a little known but amazing opportunity to get a first class – read that “upper class” education at a relatively low cost. It was begun in 1910 to offer the residents of Cambridge and adjacent communities access to the education at Harvard, which most of them could never hope to afford.
Most students only take a few courses but some, each year, complete a BA or MA of Liberal Arts with an assortment of concentrations. It is a very diverse, very varied group. There were graduates ranging in age from 17 to 75. Concentrations were in philosophy, creative writing and literature, biology, religious studies, history, foreign language and literature, and art history. My assumption is that everyone there was working class. Many held a full time job, had children, had other commitments and still did rigorous academic work.
The class speaker titled his speech, “a second chance at a 1st rate education.” It was touching without sentimentality. I sat there celebrating that this mother, who was the first to graduate from high school in my family, could see her last child getting his degree from a good school. His sisters both have also graduated, one from BU and the other also from Harvard Extension. It is possible to crawl up to a place where ideas are about something other than the most survival-based topics. But in this country it isn’t easy. And it isn’t free.
I tried to calculate the amount of the student loans those graduates might represent but math was never my strong suit. The fact that anyone in this country has $30,000 of debt for a BA or maybe $60,000 if they went to a really pricy school, or got a Masters is a terrible burden. It is a national disgrace that the no one seems to notice. It is a decades-long bondage for people from the lower classes who have the intelligence, but not the finances, to get an education. It is like punishment for being your best self.
But yesterday wasn’t about the cost or social injustice. It was about the pleasure and enrichment of, the joy and passion for, learning. It was about the value of knowing your own excellence and success. May, someday, this exaltation be all that is carried away by graduates after they leave college. That, and the pleasure of discovering what is next.
Excellent job, Gabe.
Most students only take a few courses but some, each year, complete a BA or MA of Liberal Arts with an assortment of concentrations. It is a very diverse, very varied group. There were graduates ranging in age from 17 to 75. Concentrations were in philosophy, creative writing and literature, biology, religious studies, history, foreign language and literature, and art history. My assumption is that everyone there was working class. Many held a full time job, had children, had other commitments and still did rigorous academic work.
The class speaker titled his speech, “a second chance at a 1st rate education.” It was touching without sentimentality. I sat there celebrating that this mother, who was the first to graduate from high school in my family, could see her last child getting his degree from a good school. His sisters both have also graduated, one from BU and the other also from Harvard Extension. It is possible to crawl up to a place where ideas are about something other than the most survival-based topics. But in this country it isn’t easy. And it isn’t free.
I tried to calculate the amount of the student loans those graduates might represent but math was never my strong suit. The fact that anyone in this country has $30,000 of debt for a BA or maybe $60,000 if they went to a really pricy school, or got a Masters is a terrible burden. It is a national disgrace that the no one seems to notice. It is a decades-long bondage for people from the lower classes who have the intelligence, but not the finances, to get an education. It is like punishment for being your best self.
But yesterday wasn’t about the cost or social injustice. It was about the pleasure and enrichment of, the joy and passion for, learning. It was about the value of knowing your own excellence and success. May, someday, this exaltation be all that is carried away by graduates after they leave college. That, and the pleasure of discovering what is next.
Excellent job, Gabe.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Mercury direct
Finally Mercury has gone direct again. It went direct at 9:03 am this morning. This frees me up, as it does most folks, to speak more clearly, express my thoughts more eloquently, and make choices and decisions with more confidence that the situation won't shift after I have chosen.
As a writer this particular period has just been like walking in mud. Nothing I have written has had the sparkle and strength that I am usually able to manifest. I have been dissatisfied with anything I have written, when I could make myself write. I have thought my ideas were dull, my language limping, and my point - well - missing. My hope is with Mercury going direct I might not have as intense a time with this as I have this past 3 weeks. This hope of future brilliance is both at the same time, reasonable and superstitious. But as a woman raised in the South I cannot ever pull fully away from the confidence that unseen forces and rules are shaping much of my reality.
"What would happen in one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open".--Muriel Rukeseyer
With Mercury going direct I have hope once again that I will write something that will be completely true. I hope to find the grains in my life that will split my world open so the rich gooey center pours out to enjoy. Like a seed splitting to sprout, some destruction accompanies all growth. Ah, already Mercury is working his magic. May we all be facile without being glib.
As a writer this particular period has just been like walking in mud. Nothing I have written has had the sparkle and strength that I am usually able to manifest. I have been dissatisfied with anything I have written, when I could make myself write. I have thought my ideas were dull, my language limping, and my point - well - missing. My hope is with Mercury going direct I might not have as intense a time with this as I have this past 3 weeks. This hope of future brilliance is both at the same time, reasonable and superstitious. But as a woman raised in the South I cannot ever pull fully away from the confidence that unseen forces and rules are shaping much of my reality.
"What would happen in one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open".--Muriel Rukeseyer
With Mercury going direct I have hope once again that I will write something that will be completely true. I hope to find the grains in my life that will split my world open so the rich gooey center pours out to enjoy. Like a seed splitting to sprout, some destruction accompanies all growth. Ah, already Mercury is working his magic. May we all be facile without being glib.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
train travel - postscript
I've been back from my 12 hour train ride for a few weeks. Like always, when I go away I return to see my life, home, entire situation with new eyes. I appreciate that about travel. It offers me an opportunity to see anew.
I learned something new on that trip. I have spent very little time in my life actually relaxing. It is pretty hard to stay occupied on a lengthy train ride. I knitted, I read, I listened to audio books, I wrote, and I watched movies. But finally when I had done everything I had brought to do, I just looked out the window. My story teller's mind made up sketches of stories and lines of prose as the different views slipped by. It was not only restful to just let my mind think and wander, I discovered it was an investment in future creativity.
What I found the week after I returned is that I would awaken in the night and strings of words, images, ideas, lines of dialogue would pop into my sleepy head. I would turn over and go back to sleep, my dreams opening in vivid colors. I am still inspired, if confused by the effect of that trip. Again, I recommend it. I talked to a friend of mine who said he just couldn't stand being on the train after a while. The inactivity drove him crazy. Well, he is a much more physically active person than I am. So train travel isn't for everyone.
I am inspired to spend a few minutes each day watching the world go by. I think there is something restorative about sitting at idle. It is the the pause between breaths.
I learned something new on that trip. I have spent very little time in my life actually relaxing. It is pretty hard to stay occupied on a lengthy train ride. I knitted, I read, I listened to audio books, I wrote, and I watched movies. But finally when I had done everything I had brought to do, I just looked out the window. My story teller's mind made up sketches of stories and lines of prose as the different views slipped by. It was not only restful to just let my mind think and wander, I discovered it was an investment in future creativity.
What I found the week after I returned is that I would awaken in the night and strings of words, images, ideas, lines of dialogue would pop into my sleepy head. I would turn over and go back to sleep, my dreams opening in vivid colors. I am still inspired, if confused by the effect of that trip. Again, I recommend it. I talked to a friend of mine who said he just couldn't stand being on the train after a while. The inactivity drove him crazy. Well, he is a much more physically active person than I am. So train travel isn't for everyone.
I am inspired to spend a few minutes each day watching the world go by. I think there is something restorative about sitting at idle. It is the the pause between breaths.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
riding the Vermonter 55
Yesterday I took a trip via train. Yes, it was much better, more mellow, less stressful, more time consuming, and much more human than flying. Following are just a few verbal snapshots of the day.
morning
the train arrives. The station is just a small building beside the tracks. There is a manager who opens the station for two hours a day, one for the departing train, one for the arriving train about 10 hours later. A 3-year old is walking the "danger" line along the edge of the platform. His grandfather watches without concern. The train growls to a stop, the steps are folded down and I am assisted with my bag as I climb aboard.
--------
It appears from the train that Vermont is forests and rivers. Once in a while a small town, often expanses of farms, but mostly forest and streams. The trees have no leaves yet but some of the maples are blushing with buds. Ellie, who introduced herself, manages the snack car. She provided me with delicious coffee which I am sipping as the newly manured fields flow by. There is the motion, thump, thump, hip, thump thump; and the song of the whistle as we pass through each town.
I observe that I live in the right state. Vermonters, at least those into whose backyards I'm peeking, have a lot of junk. There are piles of building supplies, cars for parts, and barrels of recyclables. There are metal pieces, pipes, and gardening pots and tomato cages. In Vermont the possibility of any future use for any item is reason enough to put it behind the garage in the back of the yard where no one can see it. It's not "hoarding" but Yankee thriftiness. Or so we say.
-------
As we enter New Hampshire more people are getting on. A man who lives on Mahatten Island, another who flew a private plane to Vermont and is returning via train(it wasn't his plane), a silent Asian man who might be Indian or Pakistani is working on his computer at one of the dining tables. Jose, the conducter, is joking with these regulars and complaining how services and supplies at the hotel where he spends the overnight in Vermont have declined with the recession.
-----
It is 11:30 am and the thin man from the lower East Side is walking by with his second beer of the morning. Clearly I have left the land of the Puritans. I'm so glad.
------
Heading south at the end of April is like traveling into the next season. No leaves on the trees gives way to flowering crabapple and a pale green mist of tiny new leaves. Azaleas, hot pink, flash in yards as we pass. Tall evergreens are fewer now. The tracks are shouldered by scrub pines and wild apples.
------
Further down the eastern corridor into Connecticut the comparisons become much less about types of trees and much more about rural compared to urban.
-----
Underground in NYC. Lots of trains here at Penn Station. No buskars in the undrground, no color, only gray and shadow and moving people at the end of a day of work. Hurry is apparent.
-----
In New Jersey a sign lit in big white lights.
TRENTON MAKES. THE WORLD TAKES.
-----
Time is different on this train. Maybe because I'm not driving. Maybe because it is long - 12 hours, maybe because I'm not confined. I walk around and stand and chat with Ellie looking out different windows on the other side.
----
train arrives in DC. We had been 1/2 hour behind schedule right outside of NYC but arrive 15 minutes early. As I walk towards the station an electric cart pulls up and my friend and I are driven to her car parked outside on the street. Maybe it was the walking stick or because it was late and he had nothing else to do. But it was the frosting on the cake. The air is summery and damp.
-----
Train travel is better than flying. It isn't faster. It is better.
morning
the train arrives. The station is just a small building beside the tracks. There is a manager who opens the station for two hours a day, one for the departing train, one for the arriving train about 10 hours later. A 3-year old is walking the "danger" line along the edge of the platform. His grandfather watches without concern. The train growls to a stop, the steps are folded down and I am assisted with my bag as I climb aboard.
--------
It appears from the train that Vermont is forests and rivers. Once in a while a small town, often expanses of farms, but mostly forest and streams. The trees have no leaves yet but some of the maples are blushing with buds. Ellie, who introduced herself, manages the snack car. She provided me with delicious coffee which I am sipping as the newly manured fields flow by. There is the motion, thump, thump, hip, thump thump; and the song of the whistle as we pass through each town.
I observe that I live in the right state. Vermonters, at least those into whose backyards I'm peeking, have a lot of junk. There are piles of building supplies, cars for parts, and barrels of recyclables. There are metal pieces, pipes, and gardening pots and tomato cages. In Vermont the possibility of any future use for any item is reason enough to put it behind the garage in the back of the yard where no one can see it. It's not "hoarding" but Yankee thriftiness. Or so we say.
-------
As we enter New Hampshire more people are getting on. A man who lives on Mahatten Island, another who flew a private plane to Vermont and is returning via train(it wasn't his plane), a silent Asian man who might be Indian or Pakistani is working on his computer at one of the dining tables. Jose, the conducter, is joking with these regulars and complaining how services and supplies at the hotel where he spends the overnight in Vermont have declined with the recession.
-----
It is 11:30 am and the thin man from the lower East Side is walking by with his second beer of the morning. Clearly I have left the land of the Puritans. I'm so glad.
------
Heading south at the end of April is like traveling into the next season. No leaves on the trees gives way to flowering crabapple and a pale green mist of tiny new leaves. Azaleas, hot pink, flash in yards as we pass. Tall evergreens are fewer now. The tracks are shouldered by scrub pines and wild apples.
------
Further down the eastern corridor into Connecticut the comparisons become much less about types of trees and much more about rural compared to urban.
-----
Underground in NYC. Lots of trains here at Penn Station. No buskars in the undrground, no color, only gray and shadow and moving people at the end of a day of work. Hurry is apparent.
-----
In New Jersey a sign lit in big white lights.
TRENTON MAKES. THE WORLD TAKES.
-----
Time is different on this train. Maybe because I'm not driving. Maybe because it is long - 12 hours, maybe because I'm not confined. I walk around and stand and chat with Ellie looking out different windows on the other side.
----
train arrives in DC. We had been 1/2 hour behind schedule right outside of NYC but arrive 15 minutes early. As I walk towards the station an electric cart pulls up and my friend and I are driven to her car parked outside on the street. Maybe it was the walking stick or because it was late and he had nothing else to do. But it was the frosting on the cake. The air is summery and damp.
-----
Train travel is better than flying. It isn't faster. It is better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
