Either Way

There are cultures in this world that value family life above everything else. Families live in close-knit groups, helping and supporting one another. Aside from the obvious economic benefits of such an arrangement, there are also social advantages to this type of life. In particular, I am thinking of the benefits of the sort of circular family life where the youthful and the aging occupy the same home and find mutual improvement.

When I was growing up, my Grandparents lived on a farm about twenty miles from our home. We visited regularly on birthdays, holidays and other occasions and we enjoyed their company often at our home whenever they would come. At the time, this seemed ideal. I had grandparents who were close enough that I could see them whenever I wanted and they had the privacy of their own lives whenever they wanted. Then, unexpectedly, my Grandpa died. This left Grandma alone on the farm and caused their children considerable uneasiness. What was once considered privacy was now called isolation. Quiet evenings turned into potentially dangerous situations and living twenty miles from her family seemed like hundreds.

The family decided that it would be best for Grandma to live in town, near all of her family members. I remember the arguments about the pros and cons of putting her into a nursing home, leaving her on the farm, renting an apartment. I also remember that Grandma was not at all happy after that. The only thing she wanted was to live out her life in the home she had built with her husband. She would have preferred to go with him when he went, but in lieu of that she just wanted to be as near him as possible, which to her meant being on the farm where they had lived happily together all their lives.

As a young child, I could not understand why this was such a hard thing for their children to understand and accept. Grandma just wanted to be home. What could be simpler? But they would not hear of it. They said that they loved her too much to allow her to die alone on that farm. For the next few years, Grandma was very unhappy. When I would go to visit her, it wasn't the same as before because to me, Grandma's house was as much a part of Grandma as anything. Without her house, she just didn't seem like herself. Her family visited her every day, cooked for her, brought her things, watched over her, took her to the doctor, etc. But the one thing she wanted most in all the world was denied her.

Since becoming an adult, I have pondered on this unhappy situation many times. I understand now that the chief motivating factor in bringing Grandma away from her home was fear; fear that she would fall, fear that no one would be there if she got hurt, or needed help or couldn't get up or had a stroke or any of the myriad possibilities they could think of. Fear, not love, is what motivated them to take Grandma away from the home she loved and put her into a place where nothing she did brought relief from the grief she felt in losing Grandpa.

There are cultures, as I said, where the families do not isolate their Grandparents. They live with their families, often in their ancestral homes where they mentor the children, help when they can and in turn are lifted and blessed by the energy and vigor of the rising generation. They are given the respect and reverence they have earned and deserve in an atmosphere of tolerance, family unity and love.

My Grandma died in the hospital, unhappy and troubled. In another culture, this would not have been the case. Grandma would have been living with her family, in her own home. Children would have been around her all the time, attending to her needs, listening to her stories and cheering up her heart until it was time for her to go. I wish now that I had been given that opportunity, not only to help my Grandma, but to learn from someone who has lived a complete life what it means to die. Death should not be something we fear so much that we are willing to put someone through hell to make them avoid it for a few more hours. Death is a part of life. 
 

When we isolate Grandma, we isolate ourselves from her wisdom. The absence of this wisdom is the cause of the fear that selfishly ignores the true needs of others in order to protect itself from the imagined threat. It's a little like what goes on today at the airport where they irradiate everyone because they are afraid that a terrorist might be among us. So, they definitely kill you slowly to protect you from possibly being killed quickly. Either way you are going to die. But why should we allow their fear of the possible threat of a quick and early death make us subject to the sure threat of death by radiation, which, though slower, is still a threat? I know what Grandma would say. She would say, “Either way...”

French Fries, Anyone?

I have to laugh when I hear some of the current political labels. I realize that a lot of people take these labels very seriously. A label can literally make or break a candidate. Sometimes the labels are self-assigned and sometimes they are assigned by others, either friend or foe. The labels vary from the sublime to the ridiculous and the effects of the labels seems to determine the outcome of any given election. Given the kind of power that labels can wield in an election, is it any wonder that people work so hard to establish labels either for themselves or their opponents.

A few years ago my husband and I became involved in local caucus meetings and found ourselves filling positions of service very quickly because we were young and willing. Most of the people in the community were sort of lax about the meetings and about politics in general. We had decided, as a family, that we wanted to be as involved in the political process as we possibly could because we believed it was the right thing to do. People were always saying, “If you don't like what's happening, get involved and be a catalyst for change”. So we did...we thought. What really happened was that we were introduced rather forcefully into the world of political labels, cliques, games, names, endorsements, compromises, promises and lies.

We discovered that there is a spectrum of labels to begin with and, depending on where you fit into that spectrum, you are considered 'mainstream' or 'fringe', (still more labels!). As beginners, we were a little naïve so we chose to be involved with the supposed 'mainstream' of political life which was given to us by our parents and based on some research into the stated views of the group we intended to join. These stated views are called a 'Platform' and each individual principle in the platform is called a 'Plank'. So we studied the platform and compared it to our own views and decided that they were pretty well in line with each other. We avoided extremes of either end of the spectrum and felt comfortable in our decision to be a part of a group that seemed to be making a difference.

I suppose our mistake was that we actually read and believed the party platform. I mean, the longer we were involved in the local political scene, the more we realized that politics was not about what you believed or what you were trying to accomplish, nor was it about making a difference, nor was it about honestly representing your community, state or country. None of these worthy goals was the real heart of the political scene to which we were introduced. In the end, it was all about the labels.

The only thing I can compare it to is grocery shopping. We go to the store and buy the items we desire. We read the labels and expect to purchase a product that is faithful to that label. In other words, we expect to eat what we read on the label, not something else. My daughter works at a potato factory. The other day she came home and said that she had something funny to tell me. She said that they had been packaging french fries for a large food chain. Boxes and boxes of those french fries went sailing through the machines. Then, after the order was finished, there was some new packaging brought in. It was for 'super-ultra-organic-amazing french fries' of some kind. The packages were very small, and we all know how much more expensive they are going to be. She said, “Guess what, Mom. They are the SAME french fries!”

That's politics. You shop for a label. You look for the one who's got the label that fits most closely with your views. You support, you cheer, you vote and finally you hope that he will deliver the goods as promised. But I learned first hand that they were all pretty much the same french fries. Some of them wanted to be labeled 'super-ultra, amazing, right-wing', some 'mainstream' and some 'hard-line left' but in the end, it wasn't a public platform upon which they were standing but it was a special interest money bag upon which they stood and to whom they owed almost exclusive allegiance. But they know that people want labels, so they use them. Just like people who buy french fries, I suppose you FEEL better if you THINK you are buying something amazing. I think I don't like french fries or politics any more.

Just a Word

I discovered the word, EXTORTION the other day in the dictionary. I had heard the word used many times in various settings and I thought I knew what the word meant. I had sort of a vague image of business crimes involving falsified books and things like that. However when I, out of curiosity, looked up this interesting word in the dictionary, I was intrigued. I started thinking about some of the places where I had heard the word and I eventually discovered something quite unexpected.

The modern, standard definition of the word 'extortion' is: The illegal use of one's official position or powers to obtain property, funds, or patronage. Thus, we hear of this crime often in connection with politics and big business. Truthfully, the crime is so common in today's world that we hardly bat an eye when we hear of it in the news. Those who indulge in it are nothing but thieves, but their position seems to lend an air of sophistication to their crime which in turn tends to allow for an easier public forgiveness. But it wasn't this word's connection with politics that interested me in the first place, it was something else.

Historically, extortion has also meant: The act of securing money, favors, etc. by intimidation or violence; blackmail. This broad definition might imply the involvement of a whole host of crimes besides theft. For me, it also conjures up images of gangsters and organized crime. The air of sophistication seems to be absent in this definition and we see the crime in all it's blackness. We could easily imagine these criminals being put away for long periods of time in order to protect others from their criminal actions. Still, this definition does not reach the heart of the matter for me.

One more definition of the word 'extortion' offers additional insight, I believe, into the interesting nature of this crime and brings it a little closer to home. My online dictionary defines extortion as: An excessive or exorbitant charge. Who among us has not been the victim of this crime? In fact, I would say that this is often considered a necessity in today's world. People charge exorbitant prices in order to survive in a business world where everyone else is also charging exorbitant prices. One high price leads to another in an endless chain of 'getting ahead'. “Profit Margin”, “Price Gouging”, “Mark-up”, “Business Savvy” and “Marketing”; all common business practices, carry with them the expectation of great wealth at the expense of an innocent consumer. A businessman is considered “Smarter Than Average” if he can figure out a way to 'get it' from the consumer, faster and smoother than anyone else. But, there is more.

There is yet one more view of extortion I found, that paints an unforgettable picture. The etymology of the word 'extortion' is from the Latin extortionem, meaning: a twisting out. Also, from extorquere, meaning: to wrench out, wrest away, to obtain by force. It makes me think of Prince John in the old Disney movie, “Robin Hood” where Prince John tells the sheriff to “squeeze every last drop” of money out of the people. Have you ever been 'squeezed' like that, so to speak?

Biblically, it was considered a sin to practice extortion. Men who planted crops were counseled to leave in their fields all that the reapers had dropped during the harvest so the poor might go through and obtain food. The image of Ruth and Boaz comes to mind here. Then I came across a very disturbing passage in Ezekiel 16:49 that changed everything.

I was taught that immorality was a crime. I was led to believe that certain people and certain cities were destroyed by deity for such crimes. Then I read this passage in Ezekiel and had to change my mind. About the same time, I came across the writings of a man who was researching some recently discovered ancient texts. He said that they had found references to the 'cities of the plain' as being places of great wealth. However, he said that they were considered by surrounding peoples as greedy and selfish. In one account, it was said that they put nets over their fruit trees so that the birds could not eat up any of their profits. Strangers in their city were not taken care of, but taken advantage of. I discovered also, that throughout the last half of the old testament these crimes against the poor were continually denounced.

Today, extortion is probably the most widely committed crime against humanity and apparently it can also make you fairly unpopular in they eyes of heaven. It's easy to blame and point fingers at the images on our television, but instead of looking at the crimes of big business, politics and other people, we might examine our own lives more closely and find that we could indeed create a better world for ourselves and our neighbors by relieving oppression in all it's smaller forms.

An Encouraging Word

“Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam; where the deer and the antelope play; where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day.” As I listened to that song the other day I had to wonder to myself, if there really is anyone left who knows what it feels like to live in a place 'where the buffalo roamed' or where 'seldom is heard a discouraging word'. I also wondered if there was anyone around who would WANT to. I mean, it all sounds nice in the song, but when it comes right down to it, I guess we're all just a bunch of wimps.

Take, for instance, buffalo roaming. That means a place where there are no roads, no electricity and no fences. Buffalo were pretty destructive of any other habitat but their own. Basically, where the buffalo roamed was a place where ONLY buffalo roamed. In other words, forget having a house, running water, electric lights and a thousand other amenities, because the buffalo pretty much take over the land. You could roam around WITH the buffalo, like some of the native people did, but permanent housing is out of the question.

OK, what about the deer and the antelope? Beautiful, right? Well, if the deer and the antelope can play, it means again that people are scarce, roads are non-existent and fences are out of the question. It means that if you try to grow something, they are going to eat it; that is, if the buffalo don't get to it first. There is a reason why there was only grass on the prairie when the settlers first came to this land.

Now, it sounds really nice to live in a place where seldom is heard a discouraging word but I've decided that the reason he seldom heard a discouraging word is because he seldom heard ANY word. There are so few people around on a prairie where the buffalo roam that anything you heard from another human being would sound like good news to you. I spent one day alone, with my horse, on the prairie, with no human being in sight for miles. One day was enough for me. I

Alright, skies that aren't cloudy all day...well, that's just not practical. I mean, no rain - no anything. I suppose in the song he means that there is very little trouble, or not a lot to worry about. Again, I'm having a hard time believing that anyone who is alone on a prairie with buffalo has little to worry about. I love the “Little House on the Prairie” books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Those truthful accounts of a young girl's life on the prairie are a rare glimpse into the past. One of the first things you learn is that on the prairie, you always have some life-threatening danger to worry about. In reality, living in a place where the buffalo roam was anything but a romantic way of life, as the song suggests. It was hard, hostile, frightening and often extremely dangerous. The early settlers fought tooth and nail against the buffalo, deer, coyotes, wolves, the elements and sometimes other people just to eek out a meager living on the unforgiving prairie.

Today, if we don't get immediate reception for our cell phone that has to talk to a satellite and receive information from sometimes thousands of miles away, we pout and grumble that we are going to change providers. If our computer isn't lightening fast at streaming video signals from around the globe we complain that we just can't stand to wait for this 'awful connection'. We apologize to ourselves if our television isn't as big as the wall. We get uptight if the GPS has a glitch in it.

Maybe we need to spend a few days in “a home where the buffalo roam” so we can learn to appreciate the simple pleasures of indoor plumbing and hot running water. Maybe if we spent some time “where the deer and the antelope play”, without a car or a cell phone, a job or a boss, we might learn to appreciate what it means to survive when you have to fight mother nature for every morsel of food you get. And perhaps if we lived in a place like a prairie, alone, “where seldom is heard a discouraging word” we might awaken to the realization that people are great, and that families are precious gifts not to be taken for granted. And, I'm sure I don't want to be where “the skies are not cloudy all day.” I hope it wouldn't take a drought to give us an appreciation for the rain, irrigation, drinking water and good crops.

Still, the guy who wrote that song sounds happy. And I'm having a hard time imagining someone happily singing a song that goes something like this:

Oh, give me a home, where the cell towers roam

Where the Jazz and the Warriors play;

Where seldom is heard an encouraging word

And the skies are just smoggy all day.

Come to think of it, that prairie is sounding better and better all the time.

Your Song

If asked, most people would say they are not musical. They would say that they 'like' music and listen to it often, but they just aren't talented at music. From my experience, most people I encounter believe that music and musicians belong to a sort of elite 'club' that only the talented can join. They also believe that those people are born into this club, being talented from birth or even before. Predestination is about the only word I can think of to describe this belief. I have often wondered where this belief comes from and what I could do to dispel it. To me, it is a great obstacle to the growth and creativity of most people, because I believe that ALL human beings are musicians.

If that surprises you, it should. This idea flies in the face of hundreds of years of social notions and norms that separate the talented from the untalented. To me, it's a little bit like Thomas Jefferson putting those words into the Constitution that say: “All men are created equal...” while still owning slaves. It would seem that this idea is far-fetched; even preposterous. How can everyone be a musician when there seems to be such clear lines delineating the 'musical' and the 'unmusical'?

To illustrate, I recently watched a movie about a woman who was given charge over a baby who, in the view of the doctors, was going to die within a few days because of his condition. This woman had been working with the hospital for many years, taking care of numerous children who needed special attention which the hospital or parents were unable to give. Though they never had any children of their own, she and her husband worked together to help these children have a better life. The doctors said that the baby, an orphan, was without hope and they just needed someone to care for him until he died. Though aging and in need of care herself, the woman gladly took the child and said emphatically, “He is not going to die!” The doctor shook his head and left. Through her diligence and faith, the child did not die, but lived. However, he was blind and paralyzed. This did not discourage the woman. Every day, she talked to, worked with, taught, fed, clothed and loved that child. Miraculously, after many years of work, he learned to communicate and even to walk. Then, without warning, he walked into her piano room and sat to the piano and began playing one of the pieces that the woman had so often played for him. She thought it was her recording. When she looked into his room, she saw him sitting at the piano and nearly fainted. Could he really be playing it, she thought? He had had no instruction, no training, no aptitude, no sight, and according to the doctors, no ability whatsoever. Yet, there he was.

This story is only one of thousands of examples of people who overcome terrific odds in order to succeed. THAT, is music.

Each person is given a life. Life is energy; vibration, music. When you live it, you play music. Some people have some pretty sad songs. Their lives are an endless stream of self-pity and sorrow: “I never had a chance. I'm not talented. I don't have good looks. I'll never amount to anything great.” Others take life and turn lemons into lemonade. Like the woman in the story, they don't take life and sit on it, they take life and run with it. That's music.

Anyone at all, even a deaf person, can learn music. The so-called tone-deaf, can be taught, the blind can become proficient at it, the mentally handicapped, the physically impaired; in fact, anyone who is still breathing is a musician. Breathing is music. Life is music. If you have it, you are a musician. So, instead of being sad because you don't have musical talent, start being thankful that you have the best music in the world and start using it to sing your own song; whatever it happens to be.