My senses have been on overload with the violent images put in front of me by the media. Horrific images of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, an explosion of a Fertilizer plant in Texas took lives and leveled homes, and then an all out manhunt for bombing suspects in Boston. Over the last week it was impossible to turn on the news or the radio without receiving minute by minute updates on these stories.
I am not saying that it isn't important to understand what is happening but a constant stream of violence and negativity being forced into my world for an entire week was almost too much. I had big plans this weekend beginning with a girls night out with my cousins. During our outing I received a message from my daughter, who is living in China, saying that she was standing in the street unable to enter her building because of an earthquake that was strong enough to make international news. At that point, my tragedy meter was on overload. I just needed a weekend of solitude to recover so I rearranged my schedule.
Yesterday I began to look for Internet stories with a more positive theme and what I found confirmed that I am not the only one who has had enough of horrific images from the media. One recurring quote in articles that had a more positive flavor was the one from Mr. Rogers who said that when a catastrophe happens, "Look for the helpers."
I began to surf the Internet and found many heartwarming stories that were not getting attention because they were buried beneath the violent ones. There is more good than bad in this world but the bad is what gets the media attention. One article, written by comedian Patton Oswalt, compared good people to the white blood cells in our body, "But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evildoers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation."
I guess this is just how life is, the white blood cells are there in great numbers just doing their work without trying to get attention. As a result, the red blood cells just get all of the attention because that is all that is immediately visible. It is up to us to look deeper if we want to see both sides of a situation.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Moving Beyond Indifference
Most of us were taught to respect life and show compassion to others so when innocent people, especially children, are killed without reason it falls beyond of my scope of understanding. It would be easy to allow anger and sadness to dominate my thoughts but if I gave control to the negative emotions then I would be no better than the person who placed the bombs or pulled the trigger. To say nothing sends a message of indifference and acceptance but when we, as a nation, speak out against these acts of hate we send a message of strength and unity.
I was heartbroken when I heard that someone put bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon but I began to feel a sense of pride in my fellow Americans when I read that, after the bombs went off, instead of running away, strangers were running toward the dust and risking their own lives to help others. These people represent the America that my brother, father, and grandfathers fought for. These are the people who make this a great nation, this is a reflection of the values that our nation was founded on, and this is why I am proud to be an American.
Elie Wiesel was a Jew, born in 1928, and a Holocaust survivor. He could have gone through life carrying a blanket of hatred and wallowing in self pity but instead he made a negative experience have a positive outcome. Instead of harboring an attitude of resentment, he spent the remainder of his life working to create change by teaching tolerance and acceptance to others. He and his wife started the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity. Their mission statement is "Our mission is to combat indifference, intolerance, and injustice through international dialogues and youth focused programs that promote acceptance, understanding and equality. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."
If we lose a loved one to a disease, such as cancer, we continue to fight long after the disease has claimed it's victim by doing whatever we need to do to fund research and raise awareness. I will not pretend to understand these heinous acts committed against innocent people but it makes me feel as though our society today is fighting it's own form of cancer. The bombing at the Boston Marathon supports the concept that gun control is not the answer to the America's problem with violence. Restricting access to guns will not cure the disease, it only forces someone to find a different weapon. America's disease stems from an attitude of indifference in a violent culture that has desensitized some people to the pain of others. What I find worrisome is that the bible says that every sin begins with a thought yet our society is saturated with images of violence and hate. If you doubt me, just turn on the television.
However, we have a choice. We can choose to become victims or we can become victors depending on how we respond to these terrible acts of violence. As a nation, we must move forward with integrity and be tolerant of the differences but we must also teach tolerance. We must nurture compassion towards others but we must also teach compassion. As individuals we must avoid indifference by speaking up and letting our voices be heard. When we remain silent we send a message of apathetic acceptance but when we speak up, even of others disagree with us, we are telling the world that we are not indifferent, we are not in a state of apathetic acceptance, we care, we matter, and the victims matter.
The victims of these violent acts have lost their voice but we have not and when we speak up for what we believe we honor them and become their voice. Speak up America! Our words could be the first step towards a positive change.
" We can be pitiful or we can be powerful but we cannot be both at the same time."
Joel O'steen
I was heartbroken when I heard that someone put bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon but I began to feel a sense of pride in my fellow Americans when I read that, after the bombs went off, instead of running away, strangers were running toward the dust and risking their own lives to help others. These people represent the America that my brother, father, and grandfathers fought for. These are the people who make this a great nation, this is a reflection of the values that our nation was founded on, and this is why I am proud to be an American.
Usually, a terrorist wants people to know why he did it. Since the 19th century, when terrorism began assassinations in Europe, they signed their assassinations. What joy does the assassin draw from killing people? Try to understand that. You can’t.” Elie Wiesel
Elie Wiesel was a Jew, born in 1928, and a Holocaust survivor. He could have gone through life carrying a blanket of hatred and wallowing in self pity but instead he made a negative experience have a positive outcome. Instead of harboring an attitude of resentment, he spent the remainder of his life working to create change by teaching tolerance and acceptance to others. He and his wife started the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity. Their mission statement is "Our mission is to combat indifference, intolerance, and injustice through international dialogues and youth focused programs that promote acceptance, understanding and equality. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."
If we lose a loved one to a disease, such as cancer, we continue to fight long after the disease has claimed it's victim by doing whatever we need to do to fund research and raise awareness. I will not pretend to understand these heinous acts committed against innocent people but it makes me feel as though our society today is fighting it's own form of cancer. The bombing at the Boston Marathon supports the concept that gun control is not the answer to the America's problem with violence. Restricting access to guns will not cure the disease, it only forces someone to find a different weapon. America's disease stems from an attitude of indifference in a violent culture that has desensitized some people to the pain of others. What I find worrisome is that the bible says that every sin begins with a thought yet our society is saturated with images of violence and hate. If you doubt me, just turn on the television.
However, we have a choice. We can choose to become victims or we can become victors depending on how we respond to these terrible acts of violence. As a nation, we must move forward with integrity and be tolerant of the differences but we must also teach tolerance. We must nurture compassion towards others but we must also teach compassion. As individuals we must avoid indifference by speaking up and letting our voices be heard. When we remain silent we send a message of apathetic acceptance but when we speak up, even of others disagree with us, we are telling the world that we are not indifferent, we are not in a state of apathetic acceptance, we care, we matter, and the victims matter.
The victims of these violent acts have lost their voice but we have not and when we speak up for what we believe we honor them and become their voice. Speak up America! Our words could be the first step towards a positive change.
"There is so much to be done, there is so much that can be done. One person - a Raoul Wallenberg, an Albert Schweitzer, Martin Luther King, Jr. - just one person of integrity, can make a difference, a difference of life and death.
As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true. As long as one child is hungry, our life will be filled with anguish and shame. What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them, that when their voices are stifled we shall lend them ours, that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs."
As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true. As long as one child is hungry, our life will be filled with anguish and shame. What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them, that when their voices are stifled we shall lend them ours, that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs."
Elie Wiesel, Nobel prize speech.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Mom's Garden
Revisiting the past is tricky business because one can't return to their past without leaving part of themselves behind and we can't return home without bringing part of our past back with us.
It is necessary to make the trip home almost every weekend to finalize mom's affairs. In the beginning, the memories were overwhelming and the emotional impact was taking it's toll as I closed the door on my childhood one item at a time. As we worked through the process, I eventually began to gain control over the emotional part of this journey and this allowed me to keep my focus on the work that needed to be done.
My sister and I both have birthdays in the first week of April and, since this was our birthday weekend, we would make this a quick trip just to take care of a few items of business and return home by early afternoon. The hills were covered with flowers which evoked memories of the many trips with my parents through these mountains in the Spring. My mother loves to garden and I still envy her green thumb because it seemed that she could just put anything in the ground and in a few weeks she had a beautiful plant. As we pulled in front of her house, the first thing I saw were the Purple Bearded Iris and the lilac blooms on her Lilac Bush. All of my emotional control melted for a moment because, as long as I can remember, mom always had a garden which included the Purple Bearded Iris, lilacs, and roses. I loved the spring when her flowers were beginning to bloom but I haven't seen her garden in springtime for many years. Walking up to the doorway I saw fennel beginning to grow and the fig tree that she nurtured from a twig years ago was bearing it's small flowers. Since no one is watering the plants I was amazed that the plants were thriving. The garden was coming back to life on it's own. It was as though the garden refused to give up on her, blooming in spite of everything...just waiting for her to return home and nurture them.
We are at the house so often that we are familiar faces in the neighborhood now and we have a stream of people stopping by to talk, offer to help, or to ask after my mother. I don't know if it was mom's garden or the small town camaraderie but it was more difficult to leave this time so we ended up leaving as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Mom's garden, the small town camaraderie, and the drive through these familiar mountains on my birthday weekend broke down all of the walls of emotional detachment that I have worked so hard to keep erected. At one point my sister and I shared a look of understanding and I realized that my sister is the only other person on this earth who can truly share these moments with me. I was glad that she was there.
I left home more than thirty years ago and my life bears little resemblance to the world I grew up in. The relationship with my mother has always been strained and after my father passed away I became even farther removed but, when I saw mom's garden coming to life, I felt as though I had rediscovered a part of myself amongst her Purple Irises and Lilacs. It felt as if a part of me has been laying dormant, patiently waiting in that garden for many years. It was the sight of mom's flowers which helped that part of me begin to bloom again. I had always hoped for a closer relationship with my mother but she and I were never able to achieve that. Now it is too late. A love of flowers was one of the few things that she and I had in common so seeing her garden in bloom brought back a wave of good memories.
As my childhood home is dismantled and sold, one piece at a time, I am saddened as I realize that this is the last time I will see my mother's garden. I wish that I could pick up the garden and take it with me. Yet I feel as though a part of me will always be in that garden, or sitting in front of the window upstairs watching the mountains in the distance. Seeing her favorite flowers bloom, just as they have bloomed every spring for more than forty years, helped me understand that my home has always been in my heart waiting patiently for the sight of lilacs and irises to help the memories blossom and grow again. I found a part of myself that was lost in that garden but I also left a piece of myself behind, nestled amongst mom's flowers.
It is necessary to make the trip home almost every weekend to finalize mom's affairs. In the beginning, the memories were overwhelming and the emotional impact was taking it's toll as I closed the door on my childhood one item at a time. As we worked through the process, I eventually began to gain control over the emotional part of this journey and this allowed me to keep my focus on the work that needed to be done.
My sister and I both have birthdays in the first week of April and, since this was our birthday weekend, we would make this a quick trip just to take care of a few items of business and return home by early afternoon. The hills were covered with flowers which evoked memories of the many trips with my parents through these mountains in the Spring. My mother loves to garden and I still envy her green thumb because it seemed that she could just put anything in the ground and in a few weeks she had a beautiful plant. As we pulled in front of her house, the first thing I saw were the Purple Bearded Iris and the lilac blooms on her Lilac Bush. All of my emotional control melted for a moment because, as long as I can remember, mom always had a garden which included the Purple Bearded Iris, lilacs, and roses. I loved the spring when her flowers were beginning to bloom but I haven't seen her garden in springtime for many years. Walking up to the doorway I saw fennel beginning to grow and the fig tree that she nurtured from a twig years ago was bearing it's small flowers. Since no one is watering the plants I was amazed that the plants were thriving. The garden was coming back to life on it's own. It was as though the garden refused to give up on her, blooming in spite of everything...just waiting for her to return home and nurture them.
We are at the house so often that we are familiar faces in the neighborhood now and we have a stream of people stopping by to talk, offer to help, or to ask after my mother. I don't know if it was mom's garden or the small town camaraderie but it was more difficult to leave this time so we ended up leaving as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Mom's garden, the small town camaraderie, and the drive through these familiar mountains on my birthday weekend broke down all of the walls of emotional detachment that I have worked so hard to keep erected. At one point my sister and I shared a look of understanding and I realized that my sister is the only other person on this earth who can truly share these moments with me. I was glad that she was there.
I left home more than thirty years ago and my life bears little resemblance to the world I grew up in. The relationship with my mother has always been strained and after my father passed away I became even farther removed but, when I saw mom's garden coming to life, I felt as though I had rediscovered a part of myself amongst her Purple Irises and Lilacs. It felt as if a part of me has been laying dormant, patiently waiting in that garden for many years. It was the sight of mom's flowers which helped that part of me begin to bloom again. I had always hoped for a closer relationship with my mother but she and I were never able to achieve that. Now it is too late. A love of flowers was one of the few things that she and I had in common so seeing her garden in bloom brought back a wave of good memories.
As my childhood home is dismantled and sold, one piece at a time, I am saddened as I realize that this is the last time I will see my mother's garden. I wish that I could pick up the garden and take it with me. Yet I feel as though a part of me will always be in that garden, or sitting in front of the window upstairs watching the mountains in the distance. Seeing her favorite flowers bloom, just as they have bloomed every spring for more than forty years, helped me understand that my home has always been in my heart waiting patiently for the sight of lilacs and irises to help the memories blossom and grow again. I found a part of myself that was lost in that garden but I also left a piece of myself behind, nestled amongst mom's flowers.
Friday, April 5, 2013
The Power Of The Fork
Cooking and nutrition have always been my hobbies. Growing up, my parents grew their own vegetables and fruits. We had chickens for meat and eggs. Dad raised a cow or two for meat and dairy. In summer, my mother and several other ladies would have canning parties. Each woman would take items from their garden and preserve them through canning. The home made apricot preserves were my favorite.
My lifestyle doesn't allow time for a full garden but I do enjoy growing my own herbs and I have a few fruit trees. I also collect old cookbooks and enjoy trying authentic cooking styles. While living in Hong Kong, I was introduced to a whole new world of new culinary adventures. Not only did I discover new types of foods, but food preparation was elevated to a completely new level as I watched delicious food being prepared in ways I would never have imagined. In Asia, they take the term "you are what you eat" literally. Even the snacks are healthy and natural. I took what I learned in Asia and began to build on it to develop my own cooking style.
I became aware of genetically modified fruits and vegetables in the late 1990's but it wasn't until I connected red meat with my stomach issues that I learned about genetically modified meats. I am not Catholic but I do like the concept of Lent and each year I sacrifice something for Lent, using the money I would have spent on that item for charity. Six years ago, I began having stomach troubles. I was treated for ulcers and nervous stomach without success until one year I gave up red meat for Lent. Once I stopped eating the red meat, my stomach troubles completely disappeared. I have been meat free and without stomach issues ever since.
I hesitate to label myself as a vegetarian, although I am about two steps short of that label, because I come from a long line of hunters. However, hunters live by a code of ethics. Kill with mercy and eat what you kill. Based on what I have learned about meat production and meat processing in our world today, neither of these codes apply.
I am not a vegetarian but I am no longer a true carnivore either. Occasionally I will eat chicken and fish if they are purchased from a reliable source and I still eat dairy. Eliminating red meat wasn't as difficult as I initially thought it would be and my meat free diet actually compliments my adventurous culinary spirit. In fact, my new eating style forced me to think outside of the normal roast beef and potato menu. I have always enjoyed cooking and I love good food so eliminating red meat also meant that I had to learn to eat outside of my comfort zone because I will not settle. My meals need to be healthy, but they must be enjoyable too. Anyone sitting to dinner at my table will not find grilled steak but they may find things like Jambalaya rice with prawns, a salad of mixed greens and roasted beets, steamed vegetables, barley salad, or salmon steamed on the grill with corn and hot bread. I have never had anyone finish a meal at my table and say they missed the read meat. Not once.
I am at the half century mark now and my blood pressure is normal, my cholesterol is normal, my blood sugar is normal, and my overall health is above average. While I have friends who are taking medications daily, I have no health issues. I attribute this to what I choose to put on my fork. All of us are busy so we are inclined to take short cuts at meal time. However, we have a responsibility to take ownership of what we put on our plates. After all, we are what we eat.
How could it be that the price of gas and the price of our food are correlated? As gas prices rise, so do food prices. This is largely due to confined animal feeding operations (CAFOs), which are the factories that produce our meat. Cows raised in CAFOs are "grown" on a bed of corn, and the corn they eat is grown on petrochemical and pharmaceutical farms.
The fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides used on these farms are generally oil byproducts. The more oil that's used -- both by way of gasoline-driven farm equipment needed to process such massive monoculture crops and the increased use of these chemical inputs -- the more expensive the meat raised on CAFOs becomes.
These factory farms are producing "Frankenmeat" that destroys our bodies and degrades our environment at an ever-increasing cost. We must ask ourselves every time we shop, "What is the real cost of cheap food?"
Industrial food production doesn't just require more energy and contribute to global warming, it also exposes us to harm because the foods we eat contain altered proteins, fats, and sugars, as well as unhealthy antibiotics and hormones.
Pharmaceuticals have become essential to our "modern" food production. Of the 24 million pounds of antibiotics produced each year in this country, 19 million are put into feed for factory-farmed animals to prevent infection (which results from overcrowding) and to prevent cows' stomachs from exploding as a result of the excess gas produced by fermenting corn in their rumens, the first chamber of a cow's stomach.
Hormones in our food supply create similarly severe problems. They are typically used to promote rapid growth of our feed animals. They also promote rapid growth of little girls' breasts, which is why we see 8-year-old girls going through puberty and an increase in reproductive cancers such as breast and prostate cancer.
The truth is that we consume far more animal products than our bodies need. In the China Study, Colin Campbell from Cornell University showed that animal protein might dramatically increase the risk of cancer. (I)
Mark Hyman, M.D.
Huffington Post Article
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