Noam Chomsky on Gaza

Democracy Now's video of Noam Chomsky " Gaza: One Year Later" is here. Disturbing doesn't even begin to describe it.

It worries me to think of the world without intellectuals like Noam Chomsky and Howard Zinn. Who will take their places when they are gone? Perhaps these foks? Or her? Other ideas, people?

worth it

I'm visiting my family this week in my hometown. Everywhere I go are reminders of the life I've left behind. And while they aren't as fresh as they once were, they are here causing me to pause more than I expected. Being here- being with my siblings and my friends- has me thinking about trajectories and fate and choice. It has me thinking about why some people make choices that work and others make the same choices with drastically different results. It has me wondering why the life I chose a decade ago didn't work for me, yet it works so well for them. It has me asking if I'll ever be able to have a simple homecoming without the baggage of the past, or if returning will always be a reflection of the path I traveled only to stop midway facing the wrong direction.

One day, I'd like a simple homecoming.

My daughter, though, is smiling. She is giggling and playing with her cousins and has loosened her grip on my sleeve for a few days.  And her happiness - her obvious gleeful settling into the arms of our family who loves us and welcomes us is worth all of the thinking. It's worth all of the questioning.

long cab ride home

I find it both ironic and typical that after an evening out drinking and schmoozing at bars, the most enlightening conversation I had was with the cab driver on the way home. A youngish man who moved here from Egypt to attend college twenty years ago, he drives a cab when he isn't working...as a mechanical engineer consultant. He brought his sick mother to the United States and has devoted his life to her. "She worked three jobs to support my brother and me", he said. "She was a home economics teacher, a tailor, and she trained young women how to sew. I remember waking up at 3 a.m. and she would have the dining room table full of buttons and would be sewing small detail onto cloth. I brought her here because it is my turn to take care of her".

Later (it is a long drive) , we talked about how so many have so much and even more have so little. He chuckled and said, "you know, sometimes I felt more free in Egypt, but some parts aren't that different. Chicago has snow; Egypt has sand. It is all a game." When I commented that we would probably find very few American-born mechanical engineers moonlighting as cab drivers, he chuckled again and said, "eh - perhaps they are lazy? hahaha". Yes, sir, indeed. We are most definitely lazy.

shining in the darkness

A few bloggers I follow (Maria Niles, Rita Arens, and Blondie) have each posted lists of five things they meant to do in 2009. They inspired me to do the same, but instead of focusing on what I didn't do (because really, let's be honest: it could fill a year's worth of posts), I'm going to concentrate on five things I did in 2009. It was a rough year, but because so much of it was spent in darkness, the shining moments were all the brighter.


1. I demolished one home and built another.

Ok. Demolishing sounds harsh, but divorce is essentially just that. It's knocking down a termite-ridden structure and from the wreckage building something stronger and more sustainable. I've done that. Together with my good friend who has also been going through a divorce, we've swept away the splinters and the mess and joined households to create a new, different kind of home for our three girls. A home where at any given moment it is okay to feel whatever we are feeling.  A home where there are people to cry with if we need to cry or dance with if we need to dance (or drink with if we need to drink). A home where the children - and their mothers - are loved for who they are and what they offer the world, and where they are told they are loved...over and over and over again until they believe it. It's a refuge against the cold. An anchor in choppy waters. It's a home.

2. I made my physical and emotional health a priority.

I recently wrote about yoga and how it saved me from the brink of insanity. Making my health a priority was as much for me as it was for my daughter. This past year especially, I needed to have enough energy to be present for her - to raise her the way I want to raise her. I also needed to feel that something about me wasn't a failure. If I looked and felt sexy, centered and energetic, I had a natural armor against some of the unhappiness that pervaded my life. Now that I'm on more stable ground, I am even more committed to continuing my practice of yoga and eating more healthfully. I'm hoping this next year I can deepen the commitment even more.

3. I created options for the future.

Some days I know I was born to work with teenagers, and I sit in my office in my current school after talking with them and can't imagine doing anything else. Other days, I strain against the confines of the structure of our educational system, and I want to run...to anywhere but schools in a country that rewards wealth and power, test scores and "data" rather than honoring community, culture, and learning. I sheepishly admit my school is a haven from much of this, but only for 200 girls. There are hundreds of thousands of others who aren't so lucky, and there are days when attempting to change the system for them -for all of us - is mired in quicksand. 

I've used this year to think about what I want from my career. From my life. And honestly, I still don't know - especially when I weigh in reality vs. idealism. Images run through my mind, though - beautiful images of freedom and flexibility, of awaking in the morning energized by the projects awaiting me. Pictures of leisurely morning walks with my daughter to her school, of reading and writing in coffee shops and sun-filled libraries. Images of creating.

We'll see what happens, but this spring I'll know what the next school year brings. I've created options for myself - options I can't discuss in detail here - and whichever I end up embracing could make this time next year look very different. And I'm excited. It's been a long time since the open road was winding for me.

4. I fell in love again with my daughter.

She sleeps, and my eyes travel over her. Her eyelashes are long and dark against the paleness of her upper cheeks; the roundness of her face curves into her naturally ruby lips. When I brush the hair back that has fallen across her forehead, she stirs and snuggles deeper into her blankets, her fingers clutching her green stuffed monkey close.  My chest is so full it hurts. I have to physically hold back from squeezing her too tightly. I recognize her yet I don't. This little one - suspended still between my baby and a girl - is no longer mine. She belongs to the world and to herself, and her desires and needs and future will be filled with people, places, and experiences that are of her life, not mine. She came from me only to leave me - as all children do.

In the chaos that is now life as a single parent, one can get lost in the rush - in the sprint of a typical day. The hours cycle from morning drop-off to evening pick-up to dinner to bath to books to bedtime, and then it starts all over again. It's too easy - much too easy - to lose sight of my daughter's transformation from dependent to self-reliant. Sometimes the fatigue - so great some nights I fall asleep lying next to her before she does - shades the good stuff. When I was so miserably unhappy all I wished for was a way out, I forgot to look at her. I didn't hold her as closely as I should have. I didn't enjoy her as I could have. But being on our own has made me a better parent. In the midst of the whirlwind of raising a five year old, I've learned I must stop, breathe, and look at her. Be with her. And I've fallen in love all over again with this smart, funny, sassy, and kind (above all else, she is kind) little girl of whom I am so proud.

5. I learned I don't want a partnership without intimacy and authenticity.

My marriage eventually held neither - for me, anyway. It was companionable, comfortable. But I felt no desire to expose myself. To challenge myself. And a life without exposure and challenge is not one I want to live. So this past year, first through a divorce and then through confusing and complicated feelings in a situation fleeting yet important in its lessons,  I've learned essentially I want it all. I want a partner with whom I can talk and feel heard. I want a partner with whom I can cry and who can cry with me. I need  a partner intelligent enough to challenge me with piercing questions - and one who will appreciate my responses. A partner who sees me. I need to connect in the head and heart as strongly as I connect to the the butterflies his presence creates. And lastly (and this is a big one), I need a partner who wants me -and my child- enough to stand up regardless of his own fears and vulnerabilities. To trust us. To show up for us. Over and over again. I don't know when it will happen or with whom, but I think I can say I'll finally be able to recognize it when it does.

And those, my friends, are just a few things I did in 2009. How about you?

dreaming

A good friend brought me a dream box from her trip to New Mexico. It is a small, round box in which I'm to place a written wish or desire or something on which I need resolution. I'm to hold it in my hands before bed, think about what I've written, and the energy is supposed to mix in my dreams and help make it possible.

I love it. I love the smallness that encompasses the largest of cravings. I love the smooth wood that slides between my fingers when I rub it like a worry stone. I love the idea that there is something out there paying attention.

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I can't stop dreaming about a friend who is no longer in my life. Colorful dreams full of aches and tenderness and twists and fullness. Dreams that, upon awaking, muddle and hurt in their aftermath. These aren't cauterizing dreams. And the friend whom I call a friend for lack of a better definition - even though he really isn't a friend, hasn't acted like a friend. What do you call someone who has a piece of you whether he wants it or not? Who, even after your efforts to physically disconnect you can't emotionally sever? Maybe what I call the attempt to shift from lovers to...something else was never really friendship at all. Maybe instead it was me denying the signs I wasn't ready to see. Maybe instead it was me acquiescing to hope, despite what it lacked.  Denying signs that extinguish hope; perhaps, I couldn't have survived another round of extinguished hope.

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But now what? Do dreams have an expiration date? Or is this my dream box working through its magic but telling me the journey isn't pain-free? It isn't all easy wishing before bed and waking up the next morning with that life you hoped for sitting pretty on your pillow tied up with a bright, red satin bow.

broken until

For a while a little over a year ago, I was broken inside. Mangled. I couldn't envision being whole again; I didn't even know what it meant to be whole again. It was the beginning to the legal end of my marriage, and I was unhappy, overweight, and certainly overwrought. I was grasping for something to ground me.

And then I found yoga.

My life changed. All the moving fragments I floated through in the course of a day seemed to diverge into stillness when I practiced. For 90 minutes 3-4x/week, I became someone else - a someone else I liked. And slowly, through continued practice I've changed. My life has changed.

My  body has changed, too. I can't thank yoga alone for losing forty pounds, but it certainly helped. And it has helped me maintain the weight loss because once I started practicing, I naturally began paying close attention to what I was using to fuel my body. I started eating more grains and less refined carbohydrates. I began to love root vegetables and spinach and squash - all foods I could tolerate before but never ones I could declare loving. I drank more tea and less coffee. I pretty much gave up bagels and muffins for breakfast and instead boiled eggs. And I ate only when I was hungry. This, in particular, was new for me. I've always been an emotional eater, but my first instinct when stressed was no longer to eat - it was to breathe.

After several years of high cholesterol, I recently had a physical, and for the first time in years, I am a healthy weight. I have normal cholesterol levels. And it feels damn good. And honestly, I feel pretty damn good in my body. Certainly, a part of me would like to have the trim, smooth tummy I had before I had my daughter. No matter how many muscles I build in my core, there will always be the mommy marks and slight rounding. And having just celebrated another birthday this weekend, I have to admit I have my moments of fantasizing about having my 24 year old physique back. But most of the time, I recognize the ridiculousness of that time-sink. I am a mother after all, and there is beauty and immense strength in that, too. And the fact that I can now contort my body in positions I could never do - at 14 or 24 - more than makes up for it!

Discovering yoga has helped me become a more patient person. Having goals and reaching them are two very different things. I never took the time to mull over the difference before. I would set a goal and immediately consider myself a failure if I didn't reach it right away. Moving through my asana, I have no choice but to set goals and gradually work towards achieving them. My body simply won't bend a certain way on will alone. Last night in class, I balanced in crane and popped into a headstand, and I stayed in both longer than I ever have. My handstand, though, wasn't working. I couldn't kick up securely, and eventually I had to stop trying. A year ago, I would have been disgusted with my body's limitations, but instead I rejoiced in its capabilities.

Yoga has given me another outlet for my relentless thoughts. I can't stop thinking. I need to know the why, the who, the what...always. It can be draining. Saddening. Maddening. I imagine for those with whom I share my thoughts, it is rather exhausting at times to listen without always having the answers I seek (lucky for me they stick around anyway). My blog used to be my only outlet, and then I lost my words. Yoga took over; it cleansed me, cleared the cobwebs. And with the familiarity of a long-time lover, I know my body - and my mind - better than I know anything.

I'm sure yoga isn't for everyone, but it saved me. The studio is the one place I feel the sense of belonging that has been missing for so many years. Stretching my body - testing my strength-  is a physical metaphor for all the other moments when I'm in the struggle with reality...except reality isn't quite as much of a struggle anymore.

Namaste.

recognition

I saw this today online, and something in it made me all achy and breathless with recognition.

A taste of it is below, but here is a link to the full poem:

without context

some days it seems many
lifetimes have passed since
you held firm to my hand
whispering secrets in my ear.
days flow by, like sands

-Leonie

swirling, whirling thoughts and hope

I'm on a writing deadline and absolutely should not be writing on my blog right now. Bad, bad girl. I have so much on my mind, though, and I feel like I've turned the corner into so many critical moments lately. And honestly, my writing process has been so much more grueling since I took a break this past year that I don't feel I have the same luxury to ignore the flashing light that reads "WRITE! WRITE!"; it just doesn't show up as insistently anymore.

So here I am trying to process it all. Trying to stop the whirling of it all so it slows down enough to communicate here.

I whirled my way to a yoga class tonight seeking the stillness only the practice can provide for me. A year ago, I went to class three or four times a week, and now I'm lucky if I make it twice a week. I try to practice at home, but it's difficult to carve out time and space. So I was looking forward to tonight.  And while my body might not have been as strong as I wanted it to be in certain poses, I relaxed enough to let go, and finally in shavasana, the final relaxation pose, I realized how unkind I've been to myself - how willing I've been to believe the doubts that whisper to me in my weak moments and how callous I've been in denying myself those that counter them. And I did something I haven't done during class for a long time: I cried. The tears pooled beneath my closed eyelids and rolled down my cheeks. I didn't rush to wipe them away or hide them. I welcomed them. With every deep breath, I willed more to appear - opening myself as they cleansed. When class was over, my mat was wet. I felt a bit battered, but I also felt purified.

There are some other conclusions at which I've arrived lately:

 1. Friendship for me - real friendship - can't be transient. It can't be based on convenience. And like a marriage, it takes work. And mutual honesty. And mutual respect. In order for me to share my life with someone I consider a friend, that someone needs to communicate he/she wants me to share in his/her life, too. I see friendship as much - if not more - intimate than a romantic relationship. It is what is left when the layers of  romance are peeled away - if they peel away.  To say I'm here. I'm your person, no matter what happens takes a commitment. It takes intimacy. I realized I don't take this commitment lightly, and a friendship without intimacy is about as interesting to me as attending the Republican National Convention or swimming in Lake Michigan in January - one can stop breathing from emotional hypothermia, too.

2. I have work to do in the classroom. In order to be the kind of teacher I want to be - a teacher in solidarity with my students and one who encourages resistance and critical analysis of our world - I need to plan better. I need to create space in a different way than I've been creating it. Hell, it shouldn't be mine to create at all; it should be a collaborative, democratic effort. I want to be that teacher. I want to inspire because everyday I'm inspired by my students.

3. I have two plans for the future: two different, bold visions. And like my sweet, wonderful friend, Adele, told me, I hope the plan that is wrong for me is removed from my path somehow so I don't have to make the wrong choice. I'm ready to embrace the right ones.

Back to my deadline now.  And then a rest filled with hope and energy. I think it's gonna be a mighty good winter.

THE PEOPLE SPEAK

I received the following email today. I already sent my DVR and CANNOT wait to watch this!

Special Announcement

Dear HowardZinn.org friends, On Sunday, December 13, at 8 PM Eastern and Pacific / 7 PM Central, THE PEOPLE SPEAK -- the long awaited documentary film inspired by Howard Zinn's books A People's History of the United States and, with Anthony Arnove, Voices of a People's History -- will air on History. Tune in! Details at http://www.history.com/peoplespeak or text peoplespeak to HISTRY (447879) for tune in info. You can also catch the final stop of the People Speak College Tour at UCLA -- with Josh Brolin and Chris Moore -- Friday, December 2, at 2 pm. http://www.history.com/content/people-speak/the-people-speak-college-tour ABOUT THE PEOPLE SPEAK Using dramatic and musical performances of the letters, diaries and speeches of everyday Americans, the documentary feature film THE PEOPLE SPEAK gives voice to those who spoke up for social change throughout U.S. history, forging a nation from the bottom up with their insistence on equality and justice. Narrated by acclaimed historian Howard Zinn and based on his best-selling books, A People's History of the United States and, with Anthony Arnove, Voices of a People's History, THE PEOPLE SPEAK illustrates the relevance of these passionate historical moments to our society today and reminds us never to take liberty for granted. THE PEOPLE SPEAK is produced by Matt Damon, Josh Brolin, Chris Moore, Anthony Arnove, and Howard Zinn, co-directed by Moore, Arnove and Zinn, and features dramatic and musical performances by Allison Moorer, Benjamin Bratt, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Chris Robinson, Christina Kirk, Danny Glover, Darryl "DMC" McDaniels, David Strathairn, Don Cheadle, Eddie Vedder, Harris Yulin, Jasmine Guy, John Legend, Josh Brolin, Kathleen Chalfant, Kerry Washington, Lupe Fiasco, Marisa Tomei, Martín Espada, Matt Damon, Michael Ealy, Mike O'Malley, Morgan Freeman, Q'orianka Kilcher, Reg E. Cathey, Rich Robinson, Rosario Dawson, Sandra Oh, Staceyann Chin, and Viggo Mortensen. Buy the SOUNTRACK, featuring new songs from THE PEOPLE SPEAK by Allison Moorer, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Eddie Vedder, Exene Cervenka, Jackson Browne, John Doe, John Legend, Lupe Fiasco, P!nk, Randy Newman, Rich Robinson, and Taj Mahal. http://www.peopleshistory.us/news/people-speak-soundtrack-CD-on-Verve A two-disc special DVD set of THE PEOPLE SPEAK will be out in January! More details soon at: http://www.thepeoplespeak.com NEW AND UPDATED edition of the source books for THE PEOPLE SPEAK just released: Voices of a People's History of the United States, by Howard Zinn and Anthony Arnove http://www.sevenstories.com/book/?GCOI=58322100808900 Sign up at http://www.thepeoplespeak.com Join The People Speak on History on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/thepeoplespeakonhistory Follow us on Twitter @vph and @HISTORY_Daily MORE INFORMATION http://www.PeoplesHistory.us http://www.facebook.com/Voices.Live http://www.HowardZinn.org http://www.facebook.com/HowardZinn

Thanks for reading... For more information on Howard Zinn, visit http://www.howardzinn.org.

if you want to know

I read a poem today that so precisely captures how I felt about my marriage. If you want to know how I felt, go here to read it (thanks, Jennifer, for posting it!).