Strangely, sometimes a familiarity can become somewhat less recognizable with fresh perspective. Today, alone with my thoughts and together with my 4.5 month old son (who was in fact very hungry at the time and sounded more like a gremlin than an infant…) I sat in the seating area on the balcony of a large retail supermarket.
High above the passers-by below, I was struck by how methodically each was. Walked in, acquired cart, commenced shopping… not much looking at the other people, not much dialogue between shoppers. People just doing their own thing. Except all together at the same time in the same place. Admiring glossy apples and checking melon rinds imported from Africa for freshness without engaging in any fashion that might seem out of the ordinary.
While I was looking down at the shoppers (and admittedly I was one of them just moments before…), I reflected on the social norms that exist – the rules that are written in our minds – though not on paper. Right and wrong can seem really clear – when you are around folks that think like you and act the same. Though right and wrong are constructions we have arrived at based on our cultural and ideological beliefs. Good for keeping us where we are, but not so conducive to progress.
As my creative mind enjoys a refreshing and amusing break, I begin to imagine that in my spot – overlooking the grocery-seeking crowd below, I stand and yell as loud as I can (so that even those in the strategically far-off dairy section can hear me), “Hello Everyone, isn’t it funny how we are all here together but no one is really engaging with anyone else? From up here you all look like working ants. Also, from up here I can see all the food we have access to and it seems unfair that we have so much while others eat mud cookies to survive. Come up here and look around if you can. Things look quite different.”
The me that is sitting at the table (not the imaginary me holloring over the balcony) chuckles as I imagine the possible reactions from people. Some would avoid the urge to look, others would shake their head and carry on. Even more would look simply to witness the “one” who is out of order. We are socially conditioned to not step out of line. Not disturb the peace…(if that’s what you call the inner workings of the person next to you in the grocery line). Heck, if my imagined self carried on from the balcony for long enough, I can imagine that I’d find myself in the back of a police car. Not sure what they’d do with the baby… though you can be sure he’d charm them…
Bringing it back… once in awhile, someone breaks the code… speaks out of line, dares to say what shan’t be said. They stand out. They do what most people are afraid to for fear of judgement. Often persecuted, these voices – are like stakes in a world of gears on autopilot. And when they take action, everything stops if only for a second. But what happens in THAT second is as close to divinity as I can think of. In that moment, potential for change exists, the vulnerability of one can touch the heart of another. And I believe change happens, in that moment. It’s been an interesting few weeks, with the Occupy Wall Street movement. I think there are lots of folks heading upstairs at the supermarket to have a seat that offers a different perspective. Some are going to stay, others might happen on that perspective on their way to the restroom. Others are hollering from the balcony, but most importantly, everyone is noticing.
Click here to view a video presented by Oxfam and featuring Desmond Tutu on our broken food system.
I have a good mother, who held my hand steady through really rough times. It was her tender love that helped me to push through the fog to find out who I really am. She believed in me, through thick and thin… when the thick was thick, it was really thick… but she hung on and encouraged me at every chance.
When we think about where we are in this crazy world… some have steady jobs, own homes, and live in relative comfort, it’s important to discern that everyone has hard times, and times of critical self discovery… but some have to do it alone – without the comforting shelter of a good mother’s love.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mum. Love you. Bunches & Bunches.
Or maybe it’s more like thump, thump, thump, thump. I am 6 months pregnant and my heart rate has been elevated for the last month or so. At first alarmed, I headed to the labour & delivery unit to seek the expertise of a doctor and a bunch of machines. Turns out, it’s nothing to worry about. This I needed to make clear for any caring friends & family who might share the concern I had initially.
So, stuck with the beat of my own heart resonating in my eardrums on a daily basis… I’ve been through a sort of evolution in my reaction to it. At first, I hated it. Frustrated with the constant thump thump thump, it was a distraction to my already “too-busy” day. But alas, this “most-improved student poster child” (insider for the one who birthed me) has taken this unforeseen symptom of pregnancy by the nads. (pardon the masculinization, gentlemen!)
Like always, I try… to see positive in any situation, be it a challenge or not.
A nifty tool, this elevated heartrate is, to recognize what stresses me… what makes me passionate… and the songs of my soul.
This could get interesting.
This week, a community close to where I live made national headlines. This doesn’t happen often. I’ve pondered the situation a lot this week, because it really hits home with me – and the reasons I personally no longer associate with any specific faith. You can read about the florist who at first accepted, then refused service when she realized the wedding flowers order was for an LGBT couple here.
What you will read – from the article and the not-so-pretty comments that follow, is this. A christian florist – on the basis of her fundamental disagreement with same-sex marriage in the name of her God, refuses service from her flower shop to a couple in the LGBT community. The basis of her decision, her conscience rooted in “Christian faith” that meant she just couldn’t do it. Hailed as a heroine by some (Christians generally but not entirely are against same-sex marriage – for any readers who may live in the deep woods), and as a discriminator by many others.
This is where my heart rate increases and the passionate side of me takes over – leaving behind all my inhibitions about who hears me say this and the ramifications that can follow.
Being that I have lived on both sides of the christian white picket fence, I feel my perspective is a unique one. For a lot of my life I was closely connected to the christian community and this identity made up a huge part of how I defined myself. There are still many Christians in my life that I respect and love dearly who strive to be like Jesus. While we may diverge on many things, I would like to say that this post is directed to the anti-love christian.
My beef – or “bitch” perhaps a better term – is with christians who cherry pick the bible – accept certain things as fundamental & exclusive – and other things as ‘not so bad.’ A little rundown… The bible is the foundation of the christian faith, because it is – in their view – the word of God. The bible speaks on homosexuality in a disapproving tone (I am SO not quoting scripture from the bible, Google’er). But what else does the bible cover? Gluttony? Jealousy? Adultery, etc…? These, seem a little ‘less’ important or weighty perhaps – as a general rule – to the few references (if there is even more than one) to homosexuality.
My problem with christianity and all other forms of organized religion is how culture gets inmeshed with what believers feel are fundamental truths. How much does the current christian culture affect how christians view homosexuality? Why does it all too often seem like it’s the christians against the LGBT community? Why is the Christian community not concerned with the BMI of their membership or the size of their collective waistline? Too much KFC never seems to ruffle many christian feathers (apologies to the chicken community for that one). Or what about those who wallow their sunday afternoons at the temple of capitalism itself, the mall – spending their hard earned christian dollars on the handbag their PTA counterpart showed up with to the last meeting? Should all the handbags be burned in the name of Jesus?
Maybe it’s because KFC and fancy handbags are a lot bigger part of the christian culture than homosexuality is.
You can’t cherry pick, gals and guys.
This is what I learned from being a christian and then not being one. Jesus has one rule. Love your neighbor. It’s not just his rule – might I add. Others have said it in a variety of ways. The judgement part comes in when people – collectively enforce their faith as THEY see it. And agree with me or don’t… culture plays a huge part in it. Today you are something different than you were yesterday and will be 100 years from now.
I am proud of the LGBT community in the GMA who displayed courage in the face of violent adversity. I am also so proud to be connected to some of the most loving, caring, JESUS-like folks who just so happen to be homosexual.
I’m not just thankful for the good times, peaceful moments, or moments where I connect in the deepest way to my creator. I am most thankful for the times that are quite the opposite, where I am challenged, pushed about, and tried.
Because of these trying and challenging times, I get to enjoy the rest.
Dear homemade cake doughnut, fried to crispy perfection and then messed about in sparkling sugar crystals,
You complete me. For now, anyway.
Signed,
Me.
50/50
By Rachel | June 25, 2010
Often when I think about how great life is, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. But at the same time, I feel like I need to designate the same energy realizing there are citizens of our local and global community who may not be feeling the same joy. Sometimes it feels really helpless for me to be so privileged in a world where so many suffer. I guess by consciously taking the time to realize I may be fortunate but not without a cost… in my own way I am making an effort to do justice. In the long run it’s not going to do anything for Ethiopian coffee farmers or the homeless people sitting outside on the stoop of the chaplain’s office in my own backyard, but it permits me to never allow myself to take for granted my privilege and it will help me to push in everything I do, for justice and equality.
I jotted down some thoughts this morning:
Shall I suggest that I am blessed?
For there are others who may not feel this way.
And to be blessed is to be looked upon with favor by a higher being.
Do not the struggles of those who suffer merit the same favor?
Perhaps the “blessing” is nothing more than a reserved seat – a shoe in – that has much less to do with a god who plays favorites and more to do with who my ancestors are.
♥
Everything I needed to know about being a mass consumer in a patriarcal society I learned on The Family Channel
By Rachel | February 4, 2010
Tonight, I checked out TFC (The Family Channel) with my nephew. Seemed to make sense – WE-ARE-FAMILY (to the tune of the 70′s song) ! So I mean, surely TFC would be an appropriate choice.
Cept these are the things I learned as I watched the total of 2 tv shows spanning 2 consecutive hours.
1. It’s cool to be really rich.
2. You’re never too young for diamonds.
3. School is for geeks.
4. Girls are stupid.
You’re seeing where I’m going with this. I was shocked by the “family programming” on the family channel. Maybe we could suggest a name change… we could just call it “programming.”
One thing’s for sure… it keeps us rolling along on status quo.
Family Channel: just another one of life’s funny little paradoxes.
American Idol auditions are underway. It’s this little show that comes once a year… brings out the best of us (well, not ‘us’, as for that to apply I would have to be referring to Canadian Idol) for some auditions and then eventually makes a lucky young person a star. Maybe.
But in the process guess what it does!!?? It provides ample discussion for lunch rooms across north america for the entire duration of the season at least 3 times per week! Never really having been a fan of the American Idol experience per se, you may sense my sarcasm.
Not coincidentally however, I stumbled on American Idol to find that the judges were treating one particular contestant with empathy, which struck me, as this is rarely the case unless you can sing. This peaked my curiosity and as I shifted my focus and actually listened in, I realized I was listening to Dave Pittman‘s audition, and Dave Pittman just happens to have Tourette’s Syndrome.
The stats for Tourette’s are generally 1 in 100, so for every hundred or so folks, there should be a person with Tourette’s. But it sure does feel good to see the judges of American Idol recognizing the courage it took for Dave to step up to the plate. I can’t wait to see what happens from here. Afterall, Twitchin’ aint easy.
I couldn’t get to sleep last night for 3 different and interrelated reasons.
1. On my way to a thrift shop, I picked up a McEspresso (two fragments that shan’t be combined unless there is no other suitable alternative). It was 7pm. 7pm is too late in the evening for Espresso.
2. When I got to the thrift shop I remembered I also needed to go to the department store. Upon arrival, I purchased a Pop Shoppe Black Cherry Soda. 8pm is too late in the evening for sugar.
3. When I got home, it was near time for bed. I performed my nightime rituals (completely unrelated to OCD I swear) and hit the hay. I share a bed with a person (this is customary when you are married or in a committed relationship with another individual), a man – in my case - who makes noises – not out of the ordinary noises, but noises that were enough to remind me that solitude and sleep can be inhibited by insignificance when you’ve overconsumed on chemicals such as caffeine and sugar.
P.S. When you start having to say things like “8pm is too late for sugar,” it is my feeling that at that moment you may consider yourself an adult in the process of deteriorating. I am 30, yes I understand I could be older and in less ideal condition. But a youngen’ don’t feel like much of a youngen’ when she’s gotta start ‘voidin’ the things she never did in order to get a decent night’s rest.
That is all. Long live sugar and caffeine, I may well enjoy you at a distance as of late, but I will remember with fondness our carefree days together.
“Caffeine and sugar induced Taaaahweeetch”