I wonder if anyone remembers that part of the reason the US bombed Iraq was "to promote democracy." Has anyone checked out the latest results of the Kenyan presidential elections? Ask a few people who know, like my partner and his parents. Kibaki, the incumbent, who has support from Daniel arap Moi (who was notoriously corrupt and whose administration imprisoned and intimidated my partner's parents when their pro-democracy magazine challenged his practices)....anyway Kibaki has been declared the victor only after accusations of early polling-place irregularity, after his administration suspended giving results about half way through (when his opponent Odinga was leading by a large margin and Kibaki's party had been losing parliamentary seats), after they barred all EU election monitors from the tallying place. There are riots in Kenya, maybe a hundred people are dead, because people know they've been cheated.
Just thought it should be on more peoples' radar screens. Voter fraud, intimidation of the press, and corruption are not new there, but this election, with a turnout of around 70%, represented many hopes for positive change. Unfortunately, corruption has won again.
I'm not calling for the US to bomb anyone, but I think if we're going to champion democracy, there ought to be some strong pressure on Kibaki's administration.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
anti-war / ouch, vitriol
I'm reading Welcome to the Terrordome by Dave Zirin--an excellent book about sports and politics/social justice. At some point, when I'm reading about Muhammed Ali resisting the draft and Etan Thomas speaking out against war (and a host of other things), I reflect on my work with injured veterans. And most veterans are injured veterans, even if they have no physical scars.
I was reflecting on the idea of being pro-war or anti-war. It occurred to me that being pro-war means wanting, hoping for, the infliction of injuries like the ones we work with. How could anyone be pro-war? Only those far removed from the physical realities. On Tuesday I talked with a recently discharged vet at a homeless drop-in center, and he talked about how jarring it is to be back, in the civilian world, with cold, rainy weather--a world where you don't have to say "sir" and stand at attention. That's not to mention wounds of body and mind.
To be pro-war is to hope for the infliction of pain on soldiers and on those who are the victims of soldiers. To be pro-war is to never feel endangered by bullets flying at your body, to never fear that your loved ones will die too young. To be pro-war is to WANT war to happen. And let me tell you, from somone who has seen combat through the words and silent bodily witness of former soldiers, that's fucked up. We must be anti-war if we are human in our hearts.
That's what I want to hear from any leadership that requests my allegience and consent. I want to hear apologies to those soldiers, families, and loved ones who have lost somone, and to those soldiers who have lost all or part of their lives, maybe part of their souls. I want to hear how we will honor those dead and wounded--not by pulling out, but by leaving the country a better place than when we started (if that's possible). By leaving a place where we've committed to helping rebuild what we've damaged, bind up what we've wounded, and partner with those innocent people whom we have acted against. We are a nation at war, and unaccountably, most people don't even realize it. Merry Christmas.
Behind every cynicism, there is hope for a better world (thanks to my CPE supervisor-in-training for that gem).
I was reflecting on the idea of being pro-war or anti-war. It occurred to me that being pro-war means wanting, hoping for, the infliction of injuries like the ones we work with. How could anyone be pro-war? Only those far removed from the physical realities. On Tuesday I talked with a recently discharged vet at a homeless drop-in center, and he talked about how jarring it is to be back, in the civilian world, with cold, rainy weather--a world where you don't have to say "sir" and stand at attention. That's not to mention wounds of body and mind.
To be pro-war is to hope for the infliction of pain on soldiers and on those who are the victims of soldiers. To be pro-war is to never feel endangered by bullets flying at your body, to never fear that your loved ones will die too young. To be pro-war is to WANT war to happen. And let me tell you, from somone who has seen combat through the words and silent bodily witness of former soldiers, that's fucked up. We must be anti-war if we are human in our hearts.
That's what I want to hear from any leadership that requests my allegience and consent. I want to hear apologies to those soldiers, families, and loved ones who have lost somone, and to those soldiers who have lost all or part of their lives, maybe part of their souls. I want to hear how we will honor those dead and wounded--not by pulling out, but by leaving the country a better place than when we started (if that's possible). By leaving a place where we've committed to helping rebuild what we've damaged, bind up what we've wounded, and partner with those innocent people whom we have acted against. We are a nation at war, and unaccountably, most people don't even realize it. Merry Christmas.
Behind every cynicism, there is hope for a better world (thanks to my CPE supervisor-in-training for that gem).
Thursday, December 13, 2007
fingernail clippings
On the bus today, my crossword puzzle was interrupted by the recognizable snapping of fingernail clippers. The man a couple rows ahead of me was clipping his nails. I pretended to be engrossed in my puzzle, using the “I’m thinking really hard and staring into space” look to check out my neighbors’ reactions. No one seemed the slightest bit bothered. The man must have clipped each nail about three times, and he did all 10. I started to wonder if he was working on his toes. My inner dialogues were speeding along furiously. Should I say something? What would I say? Is it my business? What can I compare it to? Is it a personal affront? Is it gross? Is it cultural difference? Why do I feel sick to my stomach? Why does it sound so loud? Why isn’t anyone else noticing? I called my partner to leave a voicemail saying that I wish he could answer the phone because there was a guy cutting his fingernails and I wasn’t sure what to do—I wanted to bounce ideas off him. I decided, for a moment, I’d done my passive-aggressive duty. But it still bugged me. If I was going to do CPE with a “new wade” who says what he thinks, why not start now? But I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to formulate it. I practiced conversations with me head. I decided how to handle if he came at me with the clippers, but I couldn’t figure out how to respond if he asked me why it bothered me. Because it’s gross! Then I saw him sweep the clippings onto the bus floor. There was a time when I would tolerate nose picking as long as the contents are properly disposed of, and the hands were considered septic until otherwise washed. But no more! Still, I hunkered down into my crossword puzzle and said nothing. Until I got off the bus behind him, and I noticed there were still clippings on the seat! I puzzled some more as I followed him into the parking lot. Finally I said it: “Excuse me, maybe it’s none of my business…I was trying to decide whether or not to say anything, but I noticed you left fingernail clippings on the seat. Could you wait until you get home to clip your nails?” He looked at me and said, “Yeah, okay.” And continued to walk. I think I expected shame, guilt, shock at having been noticed, but then I remembered how loud the whole thing was. Still, I feel good that I spoke up, even if I suspect it did nothing. Now I have this undeniable urge to trim my fingernails…in the privacy of my own room!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Here If You Need Me
Just a quick note to recommend a book that basically everyone should read. It's called Here If You Need Me by Kate Braestrup. It is her personal story of the death of her husband, her seminary education as a grieving widow with four children, and her ministry as a chaplain with the Maine Warden Service. She intertwines these themes in a way that made me laugh and cry almost at the same time. She works with those who, for the most part, are not very religiously connected to churches, but who are spiritually connected to the forest, to the Maine landscape. She touches something very deep inside me, reflecting a theology very close to my own.
About the grief she and her children experience: "We discovered that...You can cry while ordering a pizza over the telephone, although the conversation will be longer and more confused than it otherwise is...You can weep while coloring...Peter discovered that it is possible to weep while emptying rainwater from garbage cans. Zach wept while taking out the compost, while folding pillowcases."
About asking "where is God?" when a warden pulls a dead 4-year-old girl's body from where it had broken through the ice on a pond: "The death of the little girl with red mittens is not God's will or plan. It is physics and biology, the bearing capacity of frozen water, the point at which hypothermia causes a small body's systems to fail. ... Here is my answer to theodicy problem in a nutshell: Frank took the child out from under the ice with his own hands, tried to give her his breath, and his heart broke when he could not save her life. Frank IS the answer."
It's a quick read, full of weathered, grounded humor, and maybe one of the best books I've ever read.
About the grief she and her children experience: "We discovered that...You can cry while ordering a pizza over the telephone, although the conversation will be longer and more confused than it otherwise is...You can weep while coloring...Peter discovered that it is possible to weep while emptying rainwater from garbage cans. Zach wept while taking out the compost, while folding pillowcases."
About asking "where is God?" when a warden pulls a dead 4-year-old girl's body from where it had broken through the ice on a pond: "The death of the little girl with red mittens is not God's will or plan. It is physics and biology, the bearing capacity of frozen water, the point at which hypothermia causes a small body's systems to fail. ... Here is my answer to theodicy problem in a nutshell: Frank took the child out from under the ice with his own hands, tried to give her his breath, and his heart broke when he could not save her life. Frank IS the answer."
It's a quick read, full of weathered, grounded humor, and maybe one of the best books I've ever read.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Somewhere There Is War
I wrote this about a family from the Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) aka Polytrauma unit who passed by me in the hall.
27 November 2007
Somewhere There Is War
The kids trot dutifully, dragging a teddy bear, try to look strong, behind their mother who is pushing their father in a wheelchair. He was once their father, if they remember him, touching their noses in wonder, letting them wrap their tiny hands around his thick fingers--before he went. Now, in a wheelchair, he smells funny, takes up Mommy's time, makes her cry. He was once her husband, if she remembers, touching her here and there, wrapping his thick arms around her waist--before he went over. Now he wants their attention, somewhere in his brain he knows this. He wants their love, their touch; he wants to tell them he loves them; he wants to tell them that somewhere he knows--he is her husband, their father, a man, a soldier, proud. If he makes this sound, this unearthly sound,
It curdles; in the ward, it condenses all the dread and fear into sandy precipitate that settles into the pits of stomachs. If he makes this sound, they'll pay attention to him; maybe they'll look into his eyes and maybe they'll see that--somewhere in his brain he knows, somewhere in that egg yolk rattled too much in its shell by the blast wave, somewhere in the leaking yellow fluid, he knows who he used to be, who he is, who he wants to be.
27 November 2007
Somewhere There Is War
The kids trot dutifully, dragging a teddy bear, try to look strong, behind their mother who is pushing their father in a wheelchair. He was once their father, if they remember him, touching their noses in wonder, letting them wrap their tiny hands around his thick fingers--before he went. Now, in a wheelchair, he smells funny, takes up Mommy's time, makes her cry. He was once her husband, if she remembers, touching her here and there, wrapping his thick arms around her waist--before he went over. Now he wants their attention, somewhere in his brain he knows this. He wants their love, their touch; he wants to tell them he loves them; he wants to tell them that somewhere he knows--he is her husband, their father, a man, a soldier, proud. If he makes this sound, this unearthly sound,
It curdles; in the ward, it condenses all the dread and fear into sandy precipitate that settles into the pits of stomachs. If he makes this sound, they'll pay attention to him; maybe they'll look into his eyes and maybe they'll see that--somewhere in his brain he knows, somewhere in that egg yolk rattled too much in its shell by the blast wave, somewhere in the leaking yellow fluid, he knows who he used to be, who he is, who he wants to be.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
happy anniversary
Yesterday, the 16th, we celebrated the anniversary of our first date. On 16 November 2006, we met (after I responded to his ad on Craigslist in October) at the 12th St Oakland Bart stop. I was there first, waiting for him to arrive, watching different people walk by. I saw a guy who matched his description, and I thought, "Wow! That guy's hot! I wonder if that's him? No, it can't be." But he kept walking toward me, and he introduced himself. I couldn't believe that such a handsome man would be meeting me for a date! We went to The Golden Lotus and I babbled and then felt embarrassed for babbling. He had to go to a movie about mountain biking later that evening, and I went into San Francisco to visit my friend Anna who was doing an overnight on-call at her CPE residency.
I was so excited that I had a date with such an amazing guy...and he wanted to see me again!
A year has passed, and I am still excited and happy. I have never felt so deeply connected, so much support and love, and so much attraction to another person. With my partner, I am able to be myself, to admit vulnerabilities and also improve myself and my relationship. He's the handsomest, most attractive man in the world, and I am the luckiest guy in the world to be loved and to love him. Our relationship is honest, deep, and rich with caring, support, and creativity. The more time we spend together, the more I get to know him, the more I'm excited and the more I want to spend more time being together.
As I've written before, I could talk for hours about how amazing he is, but I'll stop for now.
I was so excited that I had a date with such an amazing guy...and he wanted to see me again!
A year has passed, and I am still excited and happy. I have never felt so deeply connected, so much support and love, and so much attraction to another person. With my partner, I am able to be myself, to admit vulnerabilities and also improve myself and my relationship. He's the handsomest, most attractive man in the world, and I am the luckiest guy in the world to be loved and to love him. Our relationship is honest, deep, and rich with caring, support, and creativity. The more time we spend together, the more I get to know him, the more I'm excited and the more I want to spend more time being together.
As I've written before, I could talk for hours about how amazing he is, but I'll stop for now.
save the animals
Today I read my partner this story about a whale stranded in the Amazon in Brazil:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7099625.stm
He said "Isn't it interesting that people spend all this time and money to save an animal (like the whales in the SF Bay, and the animals affected by the oil spill) and they won't save people?" It's true. How many homeless people or alcoholics or other addicts, or people with mental health problems do we walk by on the street and ignore? How many veterans and children and elderly people are sick, dying, homeless, and exposed to the environment, and we don't blink an eye.
Maybe we need to have an action where we have a front-page newspaper headline and spend a million dollars rescuing a homeless veteran with physical disabilities and mental health issues.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7099625.stm
He said "Isn't it interesting that people spend all this time and money to save an animal (like the whales in the SF Bay, and the animals affected by the oil spill) and they won't save people?" It's true. How many homeless people or alcoholics or other addicts, or people with mental health problems do we walk by on the street and ignore? How many veterans and children and elderly people are sick, dying, homeless, and exposed to the environment, and we don't blink an eye.
Maybe we need to have an action where we have a front-page newspaper headline and spend a million dollars rescuing a homeless veteran with physical disabilities and mental health issues.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
not afraid of hell
Today I we talked about how our CPE group deals with conflict. Part of it is that I know we have significant theological disagreements (or at least I have disagreements with some of the others), and I wasn't sure what to do with that. I didn't particularly feel the need to express them--but I wasn't sure why.
So I went ahead and talked more about my theological differences, and it was fine.
The great thing is that I realized I'm not afraid of condemnation. I'm not afraid I'll be told I'm going to hell or that I'm demonic or whatever (I know there are people who believe that). I know I'm not, because I seek to live as true as I can to what I believe is true and good. Not saying I succeed all the time, but I try. And if I go to hell for that, the only thing to do is organize and yell about injustice.
I'm not sure what keeps me from saying my opinions or voicing my theological disagreements. I don't necessarily want to change the minds of the people in my CPE group (I don't even really want to change the minds of people who say I'm going to hell--though I do want to hold them accountable for the pain their hatred causes). I wonder if I'm afraid of my own anger. I wonder if I'm afraid in voicing my disagreements I'll come across as intolerant as the theologies that hurt me personally. We'll see how that goes.
The other thing that's funny is when I talked about how some people use theological language and concepts that are associated with theologies and religions that hurt me...my supervisor asked me for a concrete example. And I talked about my enjoyment of nature and how that wasn't considered spiritual because it wasn't connected to church. I talked about when I studied in Ghana and I had an Ifa divination and consulted with a shaman who was channeling an ancestor. When I consulted with this, the person said some things that touched me spiritually. This is considered witchcraft and demonic by the church I grew up in, but for me it was really positive.
It didn't even occur to me to talk about the most obvious example--that I'm gay. Reflecting on this later, I realized it's because I assume that it's fine. I assume that no one in the group has a problem with it. It's funny. And kinda cool.
So I went ahead and talked more about my theological differences, and it was fine.
The great thing is that I realized I'm not afraid of condemnation. I'm not afraid I'll be told I'm going to hell or that I'm demonic or whatever (I know there are people who believe that). I know I'm not, because I seek to live as true as I can to what I believe is true and good. Not saying I succeed all the time, but I try. And if I go to hell for that, the only thing to do is organize and yell about injustice.
I'm not sure what keeps me from saying my opinions or voicing my theological disagreements. I don't necessarily want to change the minds of the people in my CPE group (I don't even really want to change the minds of people who say I'm going to hell--though I do want to hold them accountable for the pain their hatred causes). I wonder if I'm afraid of my own anger. I wonder if I'm afraid in voicing my disagreements I'll come across as intolerant as the theologies that hurt me personally. We'll see how that goes.
The other thing that's funny is when I talked about how some people use theological language and concepts that are associated with theologies and religions that hurt me...my supervisor asked me for a concrete example. And I talked about my enjoyment of nature and how that wasn't considered spiritual because it wasn't connected to church. I talked about when I studied in Ghana and I had an Ifa divination and consulted with a shaman who was channeling an ancestor. When I consulted with this, the person said some things that touched me spiritually. This is considered witchcraft and demonic by the church I grew up in, but for me it was really positive.
It didn't even occur to me to talk about the most obvious example--that I'm gay. Reflecting on this later, I realized it's because I assume that it's fine. I assume that no one in the group has a problem with it. It's funny. And kinda cool.
Monday, November 12, 2007
conflict
Yesterday I was talking with my friend Otter (otterspeak.blogspot.com) about CPE.
I was comparing my experience with Otter's and with my friend Anna's. From both of them, I heard stories of fighting, yelling, crying, and major conflict. My CPE experience has been remarkably civil. Disgreements happen, but I wouldn't call them conflicts. There have been theological disgreements and challenges about approaches and attitudes, but it's all so very civil. I wonder if we're not having enough conflict. I don't notice anything big simmering under the surface. I have felt offended over theological differences, and I have objected to some of my colleagues' approaches, but this has all be dealt with, for the most part. I'm wondering if all of us are avoiding conflict, or if we're just dealing with it in a healthy way. I can't imagine we're all as healthy as all that. But at the same time, I don't think I'm avoiding conflict myself.
I don't know. Do I need to reframe my concept of conflict? Or is my CPE group just more advanced than others?
I was comparing my experience with Otter's and with my friend Anna's. From both of them, I heard stories of fighting, yelling, crying, and major conflict. My CPE experience has been remarkably civil. Disgreements happen, but I wouldn't call them conflicts. There have been theological disgreements and challenges about approaches and attitudes, but it's all so very civil. I wonder if we're not having enough conflict. I don't notice anything big simmering under the surface. I have felt offended over theological differences, and I have objected to some of my colleagues' approaches, but this has all be dealt with, for the most part. I'm wondering if all of us are avoiding conflict, or if we're just dealing with it in a healthy way. I can't imagine we're all as healthy as all that. But at the same time, I don't think I'm avoiding conflict myself.
I don't know. Do I need to reframe my concept of conflict? Or is my CPE group just more advanced than others?
art
I was driving back up to Oakland in the rain a couple days ago, thinking about art for some reason.
I was thinking about how I like to write, paint, create collages, build, and sculpt. I was thinking about a book I'm reading -- Flesh and Blood by Michael Cunningham.
There are so many books out there--so many good books--and I am such an average writer, that I have trouble imagining myself actually writing and publishing something that's worth the resources. And with art, there is such a depth of art that touches me so deeply--and so much that leaves me baffled or bored--and I am such a mediocre artist, that I can't imagine creating art that would say something that hasn't already been said more effectively by someone else. Call me a quitter or call me a slave to originality, and you'd be right. I had a friend in college who emailed me a quote from...I think it was from Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. Basically the point was that before globalization and mass media, genius was judged differently. Geniuses were mostly regional. But now, genius is judged on a global scale, and only the very top, very best are judged to be good. Now, someone who may have been a local genius is now working as a desk clerk somewhere, discouraged that his best efforts were met with indifference.
Maybe I need some reframing because I'm not a global genius. And it won't stop me from creating, especially not from writing, but I have to adjust my expectations.
So back to the driving in the rain thing. I was thinking about how much art there is in the world, how much music, images, words, and voices that have so much to tell us about the depth of the world and the complexity of existence. I was thinking about new forms of art, new forums and formats, new ways of communicating. I was thinking about the characters in "Flesh and Blood," about their inner worlds. And I'm thinking that maybe the best work of art is life itself. Ouch, that may have sounded cheesy, but hold on. Maybe the best way of communicating the depth and complexity of life is to live it with intention. Chaplain Jackson told me she believes God wants us to live disciplined lives. I say maybe not discipline, but intention. What if I develop my skills in mindfulness, awareness, and infusing my life with a sense of art, communication, and love? What if the clothes I wear, the words I use, the attention I bring, and all if it, aims to communicate my [changing, deepening] outlook on life?
Anyway, that's what I was thinking about, driving my pickup home in the rain.
For what it's worth.
I was thinking about how I like to write, paint, create collages, build, and sculpt. I was thinking about a book I'm reading -- Flesh and Blood by Michael Cunningham.
There are so many books out there--so many good books--and I am such an average writer, that I have trouble imagining myself actually writing and publishing something that's worth the resources. And with art, there is such a depth of art that touches me so deeply--and so much that leaves me baffled or bored--and I am such a mediocre artist, that I can't imagine creating art that would say something that hasn't already been said more effectively by someone else. Call me a quitter or call me a slave to originality, and you'd be right. I had a friend in college who emailed me a quote from...I think it was from Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. Basically the point was that before globalization and mass media, genius was judged differently. Geniuses were mostly regional. But now, genius is judged on a global scale, and only the very top, very best are judged to be good. Now, someone who may have been a local genius is now working as a desk clerk somewhere, discouraged that his best efforts were met with indifference.
Maybe I need some reframing because I'm not a global genius. And it won't stop me from creating, especially not from writing, but I have to adjust my expectations.
So back to the driving in the rain thing. I was thinking about how much art there is in the world, how much music, images, words, and voices that have so much to tell us about the depth of the world and the complexity of existence. I was thinking about new forms of art, new forums and formats, new ways of communicating. I was thinking about the characters in "Flesh and Blood," about their inner worlds. And I'm thinking that maybe the best work of art is life itself. Ouch, that may have sounded cheesy, but hold on. Maybe the best way of communicating the depth and complexity of life is to live it with intention. Chaplain Jackson told me she believes God wants us to live disciplined lives. I say maybe not discipline, but intention. What if I develop my skills in mindfulness, awareness, and infusing my life with a sense of art, communication, and love? What if the clothes I wear, the words I use, the attention I bring, and all if it, aims to communicate my [changing, deepening] outlook on life?
Anyway, that's what I was thinking about, driving my pickup home in the rain.
For what it's worth.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
learning
Earlier this week, I said I decided I didn't want to be a chaplain. I think it's still true, but not in the same way. I realized that it actually has a lot to do with my learning.
Sometimes I get caught up in accomplishment. Especially now, after 18 years'-worth of classes, I want to feel like I've learned something. And this week, I felt like I had so much to learn--too much to learn. I had a spotlight on the things about chaplaincy I'm not very good at, and also saw some of the great strides some of my fellow residents have made in their learning. Yes, yes, I know that I shouldn't compare myself with others, but I do. And yes, I know that I've come a long way from where I've been.
It's just that this week I felt like a pouty teenager when I see others making progress while I feel like I'm still trying to get the basics down. Actually it's the same feeling as when I was in middle school and we were putting our new dog's name on his food dish and his cage using those little letter stickers. I got so mad that I cried because my sister put her letters on in a neat, straight, professional line, and mine were all crooked by comparison. My dad told me that when I was as old as my sister, I would be able to do it better. Sure, that's true, but that doesn't help when I want to do something correctly now.
So I take back about half of my not-wanting-to-be-a-chaplain, and I'm trying to remember that I life itself is a learning process, and my spirituality right now is about uncovering new truths and facets and depths of life.
Sometimes I get caught up in accomplishment. Especially now, after 18 years'-worth of classes, I want to feel like I've learned something. And this week, I felt like I had so much to learn--too much to learn. I had a spotlight on the things about chaplaincy I'm not very good at, and also saw some of the great strides some of my fellow residents have made in their learning. Yes, yes, I know that I shouldn't compare myself with others, but I do. And yes, I know that I've come a long way from where I've been.
It's just that this week I felt like a pouty teenager when I see others making progress while I feel like I'm still trying to get the basics down. Actually it's the same feeling as when I was in middle school and we were putting our new dog's name on his food dish and his cage using those little letter stickers. I got so mad that I cried because my sister put her letters on in a neat, straight, professional line, and mine were all crooked by comparison. My dad told me that when I was as old as my sister, I would be able to do it better. Sure, that's true, but that doesn't help when I want to do something correctly now.
So I take back about half of my not-wanting-to-be-a-chaplain, and I'm trying to remember that I life itself is a learning process, and my spirituality right now is about uncovering new truths and facets and depths of life.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
wade's halloween joke
I haven't written in this blog for a while....oops.
A lot has been going on, but I haven't had a lot of time to write about it.
I'm moving away from the profession of chaplaincy as my final occupation because it just isn't feeling quite right, and at this point, I don't (or don't want to) have the capacity to hold all the suffering. You might say I need to be able to let it go faster, and I wouldn't argue. A staff chaplain told me to trust God, be open, and to let the process happen. I'll end up where I need to be.
I also recently almost got hit by a pickup truck while walking to work. It was the day after I talked with my CPE group about how difficult it is to work with spinal cord injury patients who have lost so much independence. They amaze me with their resilience, lying on their backs or fronts waiting for decubitus ulcers to heal, or for their bodies to become medically stable in order to get surgery. I was literally one step away from having my back broken by a big white pickup whose driver decided not to stop. As I jumped out of his way, his bumper or tire hit just the back part of the heel of my shoe. I was shaken.
But the REAl point of this post is to let you in on the first ever joke I made up on Halloween.
So here it is, wade's halloween joke:
A guy in a hospital gown walks into a room and sees a witch, a fairy, a hippie, and a priest. "Happy Halloween!" he says. "I see you all dressed up!" "Halloween?" says the witch. "That was last week! But welcome to the interfaith chaplains' office--how can we help you?"
I know, you're probably not falling off your chair, but cut me some slack--this is my first joke.
hope you all are having a good fall. there are a lot of red-leaf trees on the VA hospital campus.
A lot has been going on, but I haven't had a lot of time to write about it.
I'm moving away from the profession of chaplaincy as my final occupation because it just isn't feeling quite right, and at this point, I don't (or don't want to) have the capacity to hold all the suffering. You might say I need to be able to let it go faster, and I wouldn't argue. A staff chaplain told me to trust God, be open, and to let the process happen. I'll end up where I need to be.
I also recently almost got hit by a pickup truck while walking to work. It was the day after I talked with my CPE group about how difficult it is to work with spinal cord injury patients who have lost so much independence. They amaze me with their resilience, lying on their backs or fronts waiting for decubitus ulcers to heal, or for their bodies to become medically stable in order to get surgery. I was literally one step away from having my back broken by a big white pickup whose driver decided not to stop. As I jumped out of his way, his bumper or tire hit just the back part of the heel of my shoe. I was shaken.
But the REAl point of this post is to let you in on the first ever joke I made up on Halloween.
So here it is, wade's halloween joke:
A guy in a hospital gown walks into a room and sees a witch, a fairy, a hippie, and a priest. "Happy Halloween!" he says. "I see you all dressed up!" "Halloween?" says the witch. "That was last week! But welcome to the interfaith chaplains' office--how can we help you?"
I know, you're probably not falling off your chair, but cut me some slack--this is my first joke.
hope you all are having a good fall. there are a lot of red-leaf trees on the VA hospital campus.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
from 10/17/07
I continue to struggle with issues of my own authority. A lot of it stms from my previous experiences of authority as external. Authority is attributed by (or taken from) others. This is stuff like roles, titles, that kind of thing. I have problems with this kind of authority--I don't often trust it, and I usually look for reasons not to trust someone like this. It's probably related to my sense that a number of supposedly good institutions didn't end up being what they claimed (or what others claimed them) to be. it reminds me a little bit of Mary Tolbert's discussion of biblical authority. But I realize there's another kind of authority. It's an authority from experience and resonance, an authority that comes more from within. This is the part I struggle with--recognizing the feet i stand on and the lessons I've learned from my experience. its about knowing that I have something valuable to share.
There's another aspect that I'm still figuring out. I see others dealing with this in different ways. Some people create a professional "shell" exterior and meticulously manage the gap between the shell and their persona in the rest of their lives. This is what I have done before. It makes me feel kind of stiff, and I come across as distant and unfriendly. I think that's why it bugs me when I see other people who do that. For me this shell is a false sense of professionalism. It comes from believing I am not good enough on my own to be in the job. It comes from having unrealistic expectations of myself in the job. For me, it's a set-up for failure as I develop the appearance of authority and competency as a chaplain while maintaining a gap between myself and the chaplain I pretend to be. I perform it without inhabiting the performance. I'm trying to shift my focus from the performance of "The Chaplain" to me-as-a-chaplain. Doing this means looking at my own skills, talents, and experiences and figuring out how I am already a chaplain and how I can develop to be a better one.
Jay Johnson talks about how wearing a clergy collar makes him a giant screen that people project all kinds of things onto. This is, in a sense, what I've done to myself. In being hired as a chaplain, I throw up a bundle of projections and expectations of what "The Chaplain" should be [and more often than not, the focus is on what I am not]. These projections (from others, anyway) give me a kind of authority that makes me very cautious. Not only do I need to manage my own expectations, but I have to handle the expectations of others, which also seem pretty unrealistic. I have to act as myself in a chaplain role, alongside the projections and expectations of what "The Chaplain" should be. I guess my job is both to support and to subvert what people expect from me in doing the work I want to do.
There's another aspect that I'm still figuring out. I see others dealing with this in different ways. Some people create a professional "shell" exterior and meticulously manage the gap between the shell and their persona in the rest of their lives. This is what I have done before. It makes me feel kind of stiff, and I come across as distant and unfriendly. I think that's why it bugs me when I see other people who do that. For me this shell is a false sense of professionalism. It comes from believing I am not good enough on my own to be in the job. It comes from having unrealistic expectations of myself in the job. For me, it's a set-up for failure as I develop the appearance of authority and competency as a chaplain while maintaining a gap between myself and the chaplain I pretend to be. I perform it without inhabiting the performance. I'm trying to shift my focus from the performance of "The Chaplain" to me-as-a-chaplain. Doing this means looking at my own skills, talents, and experiences and figuring out how I am already a chaplain and how I can develop to be a better one.
Jay Johnson talks about how wearing a clergy collar makes him a giant screen that people project all kinds of things onto. This is, in a sense, what I've done to myself. In being hired as a chaplain, I throw up a bundle of projections and expectations of what "The Chaplain" should be [and more often than not, the focus is on what I am not]. These projections (from others, anyway) give me a kind of authority that makes me very cautious. Not only do I need to manage my own expectations, but I have to handle the expectations of others, which also seem pretty unrealistic. I have to act as myself in a chaplain role, alongside the projections and expectations of what "The Chaplain" should be. I guess my job is both to support and to subvert what people expect from me in doing the work I want to do.
Monday, October 8, 2007
a happy birthday continued
Since I don't have any photos of this weekend, here's one of me blowing out the candles on my cake.This weekend my partner said he wanted to take me somewhere for the weekend but he wouldn't tell me where. (Have I talked about how sweet and amazing he is?) Turns out the destination was Harbin Hot Springs. We had a great time relaxing in the warm pool, the stingingly hot pool, and the piercingly cold pool. We tent-camped for the night and made a tasty pizza for dinner and oatmeal for breakfast. He also got me my first professional massage--a deep tissue massage by a guy whose name means "the inner light of the Holy," who twisted me into contortions that were at once painful and relaxing. It was wonderful to spend time getting away and relaxing, not thinking about work and deadlines and worrying about money. It was so sweet for him to plan this weekend, and it was wonderful to get to spend that relaxing time with him. We floated around, and he held my hand while I braved that icy cold pool (and laughed with me at the hippie-fluffy aspects of the place). I hope we'll get to go back. And Monday is a holiday at work, so I have a day off to continue relaxing, get a little homework done, and watch a matinee movie.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
a happy birthday
Yesterday was my birthday, and it was really great. I had an okay day in CPE, and I came back home to find that my partner had made a few plans. He took me to a fancy dinner and then he and his mom had a cake and sang to me. I got some sweet phone calls from friends (including a mysterious one that came from a PSR office that included static and snippets of a song and then lots of laughter....hmm...). My mom called the night before, and I got cards from each of my family members. My dad's card made me get misty-eyed. And I got some very cute photos of my nieces Madie and Libby. I also got a some great presents from my partner and his mom (she called me son in her card, and that also made me get misty-eyed). Today I took the rest of the cake to work, and my colleagues sang a quite melodic happy birthday song and shared cake.
It reminds me how much I'm in love with my man, and how incredibly sweet he is. It reminds me how happy I am to be alive, to be where I'm at--and how grateful I am to have the people and experiences I've been lucky enough to have.
It reminds me how much I'm in love with my man, and how incredibly sweet he is. It reminds me how happy I am to be alive, to be where I'm at--and how grateful I am to have the people and experiences I've been lucky enough to have.
living for today
Today we had an exercise in imagination (related to a really good book - Becoming a Pastor by Jaco Hamman) where we listened to "Imagine" by John Lennon. When it came to the stuff about imagining no heaven and hell, and no religion too, and imagining "all the people living for today," there was an interesting divergence. One of my colleagues imagined disorder--people lost and drinking and debauchery. I imagined peace, mindfulness, and cooperation. It hinges on the idea of "living for today." it made me realize that i can't imagine a world without religion. let me rephrase that...i can't imagine a world without spirituality, a world where people don't seek to make spiritual sense of the world, where people don't explore mysteries and tap into something larger than themselves. i suppose John Lennon meant "no religion" in the sense of "no divisions where we have war about whose God is right." he probably also had some reaction (maybe hives) against moralism and legalism in religion. so when he says "no religion" i imagine people still seeking meaning and seeing sacredness in life itself, in relationships, in life experience itself. My colleague imagines a world that needs to be saved. I wonder who's right, anyway.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
and by the way, about religious leaders
It occurred to me today for about the 10th time that I don't trust a spiritual leader who hasn't gotten their hands dirty. I don't really trust a spiritual leader who doesn't cuss sometimes. I don't trust a spiritual leader who isn't honest about stupid mistakes. I almost don't trust a spiritual leader who isn't a recovering alcoholic, for that point.
This is after my brief conversation with a chaplain who was openly cranky the last two times I tried to meet with him, who is at once gruff with staff and tender with patients, and who cussed in that gentle, conversational kind of way. And my supervisor who openly talks about her anger at God, her difficulty with grief, and her anxiety about meeting with patients. And how she went to see the Dalai Lama -- and the first time she saw him he was scolding the monks for sitting out of order, then who turned to the audience and said "I still have a long way to Enlightenment. I still can't stop swatting mosquitos."
And then there are friends who have struggled with death, disorders, abuse, and addictions...
I don't trust a religious leader who doesn't have zits and scars.
This is after my brief conversation with a chaplain who was openly cranky the last two times I tried to meet with him, who is at once gruff with staff and tender with patients, and who cussed in that gentle, conversational kind of way. And my supervisor who openly talks about her anger at God, her difficulty with grief, and her anxiety about meeting with patients. And how she went to see the Dalai Lama -- and the first time she saw him he was scolding the monks for sitting out of order, then who turned to the audience and said "I still have a long way to Enlightenment. I still can't stop swatting mosquitos."
And then there are friends who have struggled with death, disorders, abuse, and addictions...
I don't trust a religious leader who doesn't have zits and scars.
spiritual violence / spiritual integrity
Today in CPE we had a fascinating conversation about spiritual integrity. One student brought up their objection to praying in a non-Christian tradition. They said that it would feel like a [sinful] betrayal of their faith to pray to a God that is not their own. Their theology does not see [the "one, Christian, Father/Son/Holy Spirit] God in the gods of other traditions, except for the big three monotheistic religions...and even then this student could not call that God any name other than God. Our supervisor pointed out that we are interfaith chaplains, and that it is one thing to have this perspective in the abstract, but what does a person do when someone is dying in your arms, begging you to pray them through death in their tradition's language? Another student pulled out a book of prayers from other traditions, from Christian to Islam to Wiccan prayers and Buddhist chants. This person had used them before and come under fire from their own tradition's leaders and had nothing to say. I argued that this is not an adequate solution because the integrity of the prayer depends on meaning and not just going through the words. If I were dying, I would not find comfort in the words alone but in the intention and feeling of the words. So unless a person has room in their theology for other Gods, and defends it even to their own tradition's leaders, then the integrity of the prayer is broken. To say those prayers without an intent to pray would be to violate the patient's spirituality as well as the chaplain's spirituality. I don't know what the solution is exactly. I tend to be in the trend of seeing God [seeking God] in everything, from the highest Mass to the empty plastic water bottle on the table. Metaphors and movements of God are literally everywhere to me. But then from my angle, can I pray to "the Lord Jesus Christ my Savior"? Yes, but I'm not sure I could with integrity at this point. Since I don't see the figure of Jesus as singularly divine, as an intercessor [frankly, I don't see God as one who intercedes or who can be interceded to], and thus I don't see Jesus as a Lord & Savior but rather as an example, an enlightened one, a marker of the wholeness of body and spirit. I see Jesus as a mythological figure and not as a personal friend. So I don't know. If the first student prayed for me in my dying moments, appealing to the Blood of Christ, I wouldn't head out on the happiest of notes. At the same time, if that student prayed for me in my language but I knew that student didn't believe it (or worse, felt that it was sinful), I also wouldn't head out on the happiest of notes. At the end of the conversation, our supervisor pointed out that there are no answers.
That's my kinda religion.
That's my kinda religion.
Monday, September 24, 2007
authority
Today I had a fine day. I talked with some people in the nursing home, and we had some okay conversations. I felt like I didn't really get deep, and the most benefit anyone really felt was probably just having a pleasant social interaction. One of the people did talk about some trauma, but she minimized it, and she didn't pick up on any of my follow-up questions. At the end of the day, I felt a little irrelevant. I guess one of the big challenges for me will be finding my own authority. I'm used to having tasks of some sort: clean the floor, cook the food, paint the doorways, hold the workshop, plan the event, etc. I think the challenge for me right now is to believe that I have something to offer. I have something to offer someone that is worth interrupting the TV or the dozing or the staring-off-into-space. Or at least that's the idea. We'll see.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
out
A few patients have asked me if I'm married. It makes me wonder how to answer truthfully without refocusing the conversation on me. How do I be true to my relationship and my feelings about him without turning it into a conversation about homosexuality and religion? I don't think the patients ask because they want to know; they ask because they are making some point about marriage or family or relationships. Unless it's relevant, I don't need to talk about my personal life and experiences because the conversation is not about me. If the patient asked more probing questions about my marriage, I would redirect: what are you trying to say? what is the point you are making? If they want to know details about my life, I think this reveals something about their own motivations, struggles, and opinions. My partner pointed out that in saying "no" to that question, I am still giving information. Next time, I'll try something else, like "why do you ask?"
I had a conversation with one of my CPE peers about my transformation from having anti-gay opinions into being gay. This person used the words "and now choose this lifestyle." I noted this, but I didn't address it. I felt good about the way I demonstrated my understanding of scriptures, God, and sexuality. I am not interested in changing minds as much as I am in showing that there are other perspectives. My perspective comes from my experience. I cannot follow a God who condemns a relationship that promotes love and beauty and peace and justice in the world. I cannot follow a God who condemns a relationship that is so good in my and my partner's lives. And I feel no condemnation from God or the universe for my relationship.
At the same time, I have been impacted by social attitudes, and I am trying to figure out how my reactions to this question might hide pockets of shame or fear or belittling that are still within me. Sometimes I assume the person will be hostile, instead of expecting them to hear me and respect my experience. It's something I work on quite a bit.
I also think about the "lifestyle" terminology. I am adamant in claiming the "choice" language. While I don't choose my attractions and desire, I do choose to act on them--in the same way that everyone chooses to act on their desires. We constantly choose our sexuality, no matter what its orientation. We choose when and how and if we act on our sexual attractions and urges. Lifestyle, on the other hand, is about how I live my life--probably not that different from my peer who asked the question. I bike, I shop for groceries, I go to bed at a decent hour, I read books. I don't go out drinking or clubbing or live in a motor home or shop at designer stores or live off the grid.
I know I'm not a one-man Alliance Against Defamation. I can't address every slight, every discrimination, every moment of exclusion. I only hope to represent other viewpoints. And I hope to engage people (married, heterosexual people) to think about the choices we all make, in order to bring more mindfulness. I suspect most married heterosexual people don't hesitate in answering the question "are you married?" I wish I didn't have to.
Anyway, that's my point. Thanks to my partner for helping me talk through my questions and thoughts.
I had a conversation with one of my CPE peers about my transformation from having anti-gay opinions into being gay. This person used the words "and now choose this lifestyle." I noted this, but I didn't address it. I felt good about the way I demonstrated my understanding of scriptures, God, and sexuality. I am not interested in changing minds as much as I am in showing that there are other perspectives. My perspective comes from my experience. I cannot follow a God who condemns a relationship that promotes love and beauty and peace and justice in the world. I cannot follow a God who condemns a relationship that is so good in my and my partner's lives. And I feel no condemnation from God or the universe for my relationship.
At the same time, I have been impacted by social attitudes, and I am trying to figure out how my reactions to this question might hide pockets of shame or fear or belittling that are still within me. Sometimes I assume the person will be hostile, instead of expecting them to hear me and respect my experience. It's something I work on quite a bit.
I also think about the "lifestyle" terminology. I am adamant in claiming the "choice" language. While I don't choose my attractions and desire, I do choose to act on them--in the same way that everyone chooses to act on their desires. We constantly choose our sexuality, no matter what its orientation. We choose when and how and if we act on our sexual attractions and urges. Lifestyle, on the other hand, is about how I live my life--probably not that different from my peer who asked the question. I bike, I shop for groceries, I go to bed at a decent hour, I read books. I don't go out drinking or clubbing or live in a motor home or shop at designer stores or live off the grid.
I know I'm not a one-man Alliance Against Defamation. I can't address every slight, every discrimination, every moment of exclusion. I only hope to represent other viewpoints. And I hope to engage people (married, heterosexual people) to think about the choices we all make, in order to bring more mindfulness. I suspect most married heterosexual people don't hesitate in answering the question "are you married?" I wish I didn't have to.
Anyway, that's my point. Thanks to my partner for helping me talk through my questions and thoughts.
Friday, September 14, 2007
made it / assignments
So I made it through my week of CPE orientation. it went pretty well, actually. I like the group of students I'm with -- I think we'll learn a lot from each other.
I'll probably write more later. (already i've started saying that!)
But I wanted to post my assignments for the unit (for the next 10 weeks). I've been assigned to the Spinal Cord Injury Unit, as well as the Nursing Home, which includes Gerontology and Geriatric Psychiatry. I asked to work with Alzheimers and dementia at some point during the program. Having worked at a nursing home, I feel a little more comfortable with the geriatric stuff, and I've enjoyed the work I've done with elderly people. The Spinal Injury unit is a bit more frightening because of the implications for paralysis, but I think it will be a good place for me to start.
I'll probably write more later. (already i've started saying that!)
But I wanted to post my assignments for the unit (for the next 10 weeks). I've been assigned to the Spinal Cord Injury Unit, as well as the Nursing Home, which includes Gerontology and Geriatric Psychiatry. I asked to work with Alzheimers and dementia at some point during the program. Having worked at a nursing home, I feel a little more comfortable with the geriatric stuff, and I've enjoyed the work I've done with elderly people. The Spinal Injury unit is a bit more frightening because of the implications for paralysis, but I think it will be a good place for me to start.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
what is CPE anyway? a late introduction
i'm sending out an email soon, letting people know about where i'm at now, what i'm doing, and all that. i'm hoping to keep this blog going as a way to help me keep track of the questions that come up for me and also to get advice from anyone who's kind enough to read what i've written. i'll keep it pretty general, honoring the strict confidentiality of the group and of the Veterans' Health Administration.
so for people who don't know what CPE is, here's a general overview:
Clinical Pastoral Education is a chaplain's training program, comparable to the physician residency, or other professional internship training programs. It is a curriculum based in theoretical models of action and reflection. It includes clinical work (visiting patients, helping to conduct groups and services, etc), individual supervision time (structured mentoring with a trained supervisor), didactics (classes conducted by professionals who specialize in areas relevant to the training program), group supervision (case studies and verbatim interactions presented to the group for evaluation and feedback), and other things. The point is to bring up our emotional baggage and instinctive responses in order to help us prepare to deal with it honestly so it doesn't surprise us in patient interactions. It's a theoretical model that I'm definitely into, though I expect it to be difficult.
The VA was my top choice for CPE because of the issues presented there. I will be able to deal with aging, Alzheimers, and dementia, as well as terminal illnesses, homelessness, dual diagnosis (addictions and mental illnesses), and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I admit I was motivated in part by patriotism, after seeing films like The War Tapes and Ground Truth, and reading books like The Things They Carried. I was struck by how much these soldiers voiced the pain of dealing with ethically and morally difficult issues under life-threatening conditions and in the context of a military system and culture. It seemed they were given little chance to voice or explore the spiritual implications, needs, and perspectives that arise from those experiences. I am struck by interviews and articles about veterans and the ways they carry and cope with their wartime experiences, as well as the families of these veterans, and how they cope and support (or not) the soldier's return to civilian life (at all levels of physical and mental brokenness and healing). I suspect I'm pretty naive going into this, but I want to learn how to work with veterans and their stories, questions, joys, and pains.
Okay, that's about enough for now. Feel free to ask questions.
so for people who don't know what CPE is, here's a general overview:
Clinical Pastoral Education is a chaplain's training program, comparable to the physician residency, or other professional internship training programs. It is a curriculum based in theoretical models of action and reflection. It includes clinical work (visiting patients, helping to conduct groups and services, etc), individual supervision time (structured mentoring with a trained supervisor), didactics (classes conducted by professionals who specialize in areas relevant to the training program), group supervision (case studies and verbatim interactions presented to the group for evaluation and feedback), and other things. The point is to bring up our emotional baggage and instinctive responses in order to help us prepare to deal with it honestly so it doesn't surprise us in patient interactions. It's a theoretical model that I'm definitely into, though I expect it to be difficult.
The VA was my top choice for CPE because of the issues presented there. I will be able to deal with aging, Alzheimers, and dementia, as well as terminal illnesses, homelessness, dual diagnosis (addictions and mental illnesses), and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I admit I was motivated in part by patriotism, after seeing films like The War Tapes and Ground Truth, and reading books like The Things They Carried. I was struck by how much these soldiers voiced the pain of dealing with ethically and morally difficult issues under life-threatening conditions and in the context of a military system and culture. It seemed they were given little chance to voice or explore the spiritual implications, needs, and perspectives that arise from those experiences. I am struck by interviews and articles about veterans and the ways they carry and cope with their wartime experiences, as well as the families of these veterans, and how they cope and support (or not) the soldier's return to civilian life (at all levels of physical and mental brokenness and healing). I suspect I'm pretty naive going into this, but I want to learn how to work with veterans and their stories, questions, joys, and pains.
Okay, that's about enough for now. Feel free to ask questions.
today i laugh at myself
sometimes i forget how much i sit back in my head and make judgements of people, trying to figure out what they want, what's underlying what they're saying, what's the internal motivation.... today i was doing that in full force. i was noticing the way different people frame their experiences, and making guesses about what their needs are. there's more than a little codependence in that, though at this point, i'm not doing much to make myself into something that will fulfill someone else's needs. and there's quite a bit of my own sorry need to feel superior sometimes. but i'm in a forgiving mood, so we'll let that one just float on by.
i was thinking, along this track, about how much i mistrust helper types...myself included. i start wondering what they really want. is it the approval of others? accolades? acclaim? to feel good about themselves? to right some wrong they've committed in the past? to be accepted?
i don't know. maybe i'm projecting all of my own suspect motivations in being one of those twisted helper types. i'll have a whole year to delve into that, since CPE is all about self-examination and reflection on action/reaction.
and i'm just about all ready for that.
i was thinking, along this track, about how much i mistrust helper types...myself included. i start wondering what they really want. is it the approval of others? accolades? acclaim? to feel good about themselves? to right some wrong they've committed in the past? to be accepted?
i don't know. maybe i'm projecting all of my own suspect motivations in being one of those twisted helper types. i'll have a whole year to delve into that, since CPE is all about self-examination and reflection on action/reaction.
and i'm just about all ready for that.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
first day
Monday, 10 Sep, was my first day of CPE. My clock was accidentally set an hour late, so I was a bit late to work (thankfully I only missed a little of the HR orientation). I hadn't slept well the night before because I miss my partner and it was my first night in the room I'm staying in during my internship. I was groggy and achey and sweaty. I was nervous about starting CPE. And for an introvert like me, it's draining to be in the "hi, nice to meet you. where do you come from?" mode. I didn't get to do some of my paperwork because I didn't know I needed to bring another 2 forms of ID. And when I got off the bus to ride my bike home, my bike was missing its seat, seatpost, and back wheel. And the tire pump. They let me keep my water bottle. I had to carry my bike back to the house, about a 20 minute walk. I got a few sympathetic looks for people who guessed at what happened. I felt a little hatred for Newark. Not a great start to my CPE program, but it could have been worse.
My second day went more smoothly, and I feel basically fine about the program. The staff chaplains seem great to work with, and there are many opportunities to work with different kinds of patients in areas I want experience with -- PTSD, aging, Alzheimers, polytrauma, hospice, homelessness... very difficult things to work with, and I don't think I have the capabilities to do this work. But at the same time, I have a lot of trust in the supervisors, staff chaplains, and my fellow students that we will mentor each other and work through and learn a lot. So we'll see.
My second day went more smoothly, and I feel basically fine about the program. The staff chaplains seem great to work with, and there are many opportunities to work with different kinds of patients in areas I want experience with -- PTSD, aging, Alzheimers, polytrauma, hospice, homelessness... very difficult things to work with, and I don't think I have the capabilities to do this work. But at the same time, I have a lot of trust in the supervisors, staff chaplains, and my fellow students that we will mentor each other and work through and learn a lot. So we'll see.
this is it
I just want to introduce my partner on this blog. He is sweet and honest and caring and gentle and funny and smart and sexy and everything I could want in a partner. I had to get out of the dorms this summer, and I basically moved in with him. We got used to daily life together -- ironing in the morning, making dinner, packing lunch, getting groceries, making mix CDs...and also movies and performances and swimming, hiking, backpacking, camping, going to his triathlons... it was so nice, and now that I can't see him every day, I miss him terribly. You sensible readers will tell me that it will be (at most) a week before i can see him again. But that doesn't make me miss him less, and it doesn't make me less sad to wake up in the morning and have no one to make me smile when I'm groggy, no one to tease me when I'm sleepy, and no one to snuggle with when we hit the snooze button.
I am so happy to be with him, sharing life and commitment and love and the conflicts that sometimes come up because we decide to be with each other. If you haven't met him, I hope you can someday. We've talked a lot about our pasts and our futures, and I'm excited to introduce him to more people who are important in my life. I'm sure you will hear more about him if I can keep up this blog thing.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
poetry & commitment
Just so I have something to start with on this blog thing, I want to quote a few things from Adrienne Riche's "Poetry and Commitment," which my friend Emily (ejoyes.blogspot.com) lent me.
"If there's a line to be drawn, it's not so much between secularism and belief as between those for whom language has metaphoric density and those for whom it is merely formulaic -- to be used for repression, manipulation, empty certitudes to ensure obedience." (p.33)
"it will be hard for hands calloused on a trigger to question a daisy."
- from "Romiosini" by Yannis Ritsos, transl by Kimon Friar
"I open the refrigerator door
and see a weeping roll,
see a piece of bleeding cheese,
a radish forced to sprout
by shocks from wires
and blows from fists.
The meat on its plate
tells of placentas
cast aside by roadblocks."
- from "The Fence" by Aharon Shabtai, transl by Peter Cole
"If there's a line to be drawn, it's not so much between secularism and belief as between those for whom language has metaphoric density and those for whom it is merely formulaic -- to be used for repression, manipulation, empty certitudes to ensure obedience." (p.33)
"it will be hard for hands calloused on a trigger to question a daisy."
- from "Romiosini" by Yannis Ritsos, transl by Kimon Friar
"I open the refrigerator door
and see a weeping roll,
see a piece of bleeding cheese,
a radish forced to sprout
by shocks from wires
and blows from fists.
The meat on its plate
tells of placentas
cast aside by roadblocks."
- from "The Fence" by Aharon Shabtai, transl by Peter Cole
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