December 2012 - OE - lists.wedgeblade.net

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by PSchrijnen＠aol.com 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Attached our Christmas wishes to you all, Paul Paul Schrijnen 13 Bloemfontein Avenue London W12 7BJ +44 7973 206 766 skype: paulus.schrijnen

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Salmon: Conversation on Sandy Hook
by William Salmon 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Randy, you're a dandy. How do we satiate the Baals? Domestic Tranquility could well be the answer. There is no appropriate response such as gun control. My friend, a gun freak, would say the response to Sandy Hook would be for someone who had a licensed gun to defend the children and kill the gunboy; thus, the more guns the better. The answer is changing our gun culture. Doesn't Great Britain still make it illegal to possess guns. Are the London "Bobbies" still unarmed? If so, this is the direction that is necessary to take. Perhaps, the Supreme Court will take up the definition of the "Right to Bear Arms." Is this a right reserved for those trained in a "citizen's army," or is it the right of every homeowner to bear arms in its own defense. Recently, in Wichita, KS, an intruder was shot while invading a home. Is the purpose for gun ownership? As for me and my house, I do not keep guns, although, I am not opposed to the use of guns for hunting or recreation. The ultimate question to be answered is, how to we change a nation's attitude about guns when we punish prisoners with the death penalty, and support a military presence around the world? The god Moloch (one of the Baals) gets fed regularly with the young fruit of our loins. During this event in Connecticut, old Molly must be vomiting from the kill. Inner Peace, says it more than ever! Bill Salmon

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Salmon: MORE ON THE Start the conversation
by William Salmon 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Colleagues: This is another "catch up" paper. This material got lost in the OE scuffle and Tim Wegner is helping to get things straightened out. However, this is something I wanted to share regarding gun control. Bill ----- Original Message ----- From: William Salmon To: Order Ecumenical Community Sent: Friday, December 14, 2012 7:15 PM Subject: Salmon: MORE ON THE Start the conversation Randy, you're a dandy. How do we satiate the Baals? Domestic Tranquility could well be the answer. There is no appropriate response such as gun control. My friend, a gun freak, would say the response to Sandy Hook would be for someone who had a licensed gun to defend the children and kill the gunboy; thus, the more guns the better. The answer is changing our gun culture. Doesn't Great Britain still make it illegal to possess guns. Are the London "Bobbies" still unarmed? If so, this is the direction that is necessary to take. Perhaps, the Supreme Court will take up the definition of the "Right to Bear Arms." Is this a right reserved for those trained in a "citizen's army," or is it the right of every homeowner to bear arms in its own defense. Recently, in Wichita, KS, an intruder was shot while invading a home. Is the purpose for gun ownership? As for me and my house, I do not keep guns, although, I am not opposed to the use of guns for hunting or recreation. The ultimate question to be answered is, how to we change a nation's attitude about guns when we punish prisoners with the death penalty, and support a military presence around the world? The god Moloch (one of the Baals) gets fed regularly with the young fruit of our loins. During this event in Connecticut, old Molly must be vomiting from the kill. Inner Peace, says it more than ever! Bill Salmon ----- Original Message ----- From: R Williams To: Order Ecumenical Community Sent: Friday, December 14, 2012 3:59 PM Subject: Re: [Oe List ...] Salmon: Start the conversation Probably when the second amendment was passed on December 15, 1791, 221 years ago tomorrow, it would have been under domestic tranquility. That suggests to me that the story about guns and the role they play in terms of their ability to provide security and tranquility is really out of date. Maybe the place to start, as Jack suggested, is with a new story regarding the place of guns that starts with responsibility rather than rights. Randy "Whatever the problem, community is the answer. There is no power greater than a community discovering what it cares about." Margaret Wheatley From: William Salmon <wsalmon(a)cox.net> To: Order Ecumenical Community <oe(a)lists.wedgeblade.net> Sent: Friday, December 14, 2012 3:53 PM Subject: [Oe List ...] Salmon: Start the conversation JUST A PASSING THOUGHT:RE: Gun culture-- Where does it--or its antithesis--show up on the Social Process triangles? Bill ----- Original Message ----- From: "Lee Early" <lees.mail(a)comcast.net> To: "Order Ecumenical Community" <oe(a)lists.wedgeblade.net>; "OE: Dialogue Dialogue" <OE(a)topica.com> Cc: "ICA Dialogue Dialogue" <ica-dialogue(a)igc.topica.com> Sent: Friday, December 14, 2012 3:27 PM Subject: [Oe List ...] Start the conversation > It is brainstorm time. What can we do to change the "gun culture" of our nation? > > Nationally, state wide, locally and personally. > > The social act of repentance might be a good place to start: > > 1. Become aware of injustice > 2. Turn your back on it > 3. Abolish within yourself > 4. Lead society > > BUT, this is a brainstorm. If the above is a helpful start, great. If not, feel free to come up with a different framework or, just share some ideas. > > The conversation needs to happen now. > > Lee > > Lee Early > 19230 Forest Park Dr. NE, A102 > Lake Forest Park, WA 98155 > > Home: (206) 922-3182 > Lee's mobile: (425) 212-7997 > > _______________________________________________ > OE mailing list > OE(a)lists.wedgeblade.net > http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/oe-wedgeblade.net > > > ----- > No virus found in this message. > Checked by AVG - http://www.avg.com/ > Version: 2013.0.2805 / Virus Database: 2634/5959 - Release Date: 12/14/12 > _______________________________________________ OE mailing list OE(a)lists.wedgeblade.net http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/oe-wedgeblade.net ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _______________________________________________ OE mailing list OE(a)lists.wedgeblade.net http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/oe-wedgeblade.net ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No virus found in this message. Checked by AVG - www.avg.com Version: 2013.0.2805 / Virus Database: 2634/5959 - Release Date: 12/14/12

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John Burbidge
by Tracy Longacre 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Is John Burbidge on either of these lists? John, if you are -- I've responded to your e-mail several times, but I'm guessing my mails are going to your SPAM folder? Because it seems you are not getting them. Sent a message via Linked-In as well. Don't know how else to communicate! Tracy E. Longacre from Yaoundé, Cameroon just another child of God Blog: http://tlongacre.wordpress.com Run Blog: http://revruns.blogspot.com Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tlongacre/ ———-O0ooo— ———–(——)— ————)–-/—- ————(_/- —-ooo0O—- —-(——)—- —–\-–(– ——\_)-

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Salmon: For the Wiegle Birthday Boys!
by William Salmon 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Tim Wegner told me that my messages since September have not been delivered on OE. This was sent out in November and I'd like the message to be sent to the Wiegle family. We'll see what happens, and I'll look for my forwarded copy of it. Inner Peas, Bill PS: If it works, I'll play catch up. Won't yawl enjoy that. Happy New Years, may we all survive. BS ----- Original Message ----- From: William Salmon To: oe-owner(a)wedgeblade.net Sent: Friday, November 09, 2012 8:25 PM Subject: Salmon: For the Wiegle Birthday Boys! “Dhondiram and Shanker, turn 35 today” November 8, 2012 Written for this occasion by Bill and Beverly Salmon Was it 1978 or ’79 when the Wiegles and the Salmons shared the 3rd floor of the Centrum in Brussels, Belgium? Beverly and I will never forget that old, wonderful gift of some women’s religious order. It had a wonderful inner courtyard with a “nun’s walk” around the inside wall that had us walk past several wall-frescos including the mask of the devil. We often recall the nearly unusable wire-cage “lift” that was used only by important guests and the infirm. What a struggle it was to carry luggage up to the third floor. This was made more difficult by the fact that each floor was a foot lower—or higher—than its mate. There are many stories to remember about the activities in this facility. During one summer, several Dutch college students interned with us—we discovered they didn’t like brussels sprouts—something of an irony in the city of Brussel, Belgium. One characteristic I vividly recall early in their visit. I was on the Wake-up Team, walking through each floor beating a brass symbol while singing, “Praise the Lord. Christ is Risen.” Who should we greet but two of the more studley Holland-aise walking to the bathroom in nothing more than their panties. I damned near swallowed the drum beater, yet bravely carried on the ritual. After this, the Wake-up Team was a volunteer favorite. During the winter time, the former nunnery had steam-heat problems. The furnace pump never had enough oomph to push the hot water clear up to the top floor. So, where did the Wiegles and Salmons live? Yep, right on the third floor. It was so damned cold. . . Beverly and I were used to sleeping on the floor on a Korean Yo. It was an ideal fold-up feature since the rooms were former Nun’s Quarters and very sparse, including the amount of heat. Beverly was very helpful for me. Because I was nearly bald with thinning hair, my head was uncomfortably cold. For several nights, I slept with my cotton underwear on my head. Since Beverly couldn’t stop laughing, she made me a night cap much like that featured in the famous poem, “The Night Before Christmas.” Now, at last, it is Christmas that I wanted to get to. European Centrum had many youth. During our initial years in Belgium the youth were assigned to French-speaking schools. During their first year it was possible to set in the 2nd floor TV room and watch Saturday cartoons telecast from Great Britain. Unfortunately, by the second year their French skills were sufficient that our kids preferred to watch them in French. It certainly was a killer in adult attendance at such times; maybe that was the intent of the youth after all? The Advent season is exciting in Europe. Each neighborhood plaza brims with Christmas kiosks, and the local bars, vintners, and coffee shops are filled with neighbors sitting outside, even in the cold, enjoying the passing scenery in the neighborhood. I can remember one night when Santa arrived. He was skinny as a rail and black! Cinder-klaus made the season jolly. The Centrum youth put on an extraordinary Christmas pageant—I believe it was the story of, “The Grinch who stole Christmas.” It could not have been better. Let’s get back to the 3rd floor. In the later years of the 1970’s, you boys where little more than babies. Alright, you were BIG BABY BOYS, and—like your progenitor—you were full of piss and vinegar. You were not so naughty as that you were full of inquisitiveness and into everything. The Belgian tradition of Cinterklaus—as in much of northern Europe—is that the children put their shoes outside the front door in anticipation of the Old Skinny Elf. For good little children each one received an appropriate gift. . . ., . . . and for those children who were naughty they received COAL! On Christmas Eve, when Beverly and I slowly climbed the steps to our very cold 3rd floor apartment to spread out our bed clothes—and for me to put on my night cap—we looked down the hall to our next door neighbor just to observe if the Wiegle family was keeping custom. Much to our pleasure, there were two sets of little boy shoes sitting bravely by their hallway door. Beverly and I laughed until we went to sleep. What would the Wiegle twins get in their shoes on Christmas morning? On awakening (was I on Wake-up duty again?), we both rushed to our apartment door, peered down the hall to observe the shoes. What did we find? TRADITION! Happy Birthday, boys. Keep your coal fires burning. Inner Peace, Beverly and Bill Salmon Salina, KS November 9, 2012

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Re: [Oe List ...] Gun Culture? In the home? Beyond?
by LAURELCG＠aol.com 29 Dec '12

29 Dec '12

Thank you, Mary. Jann In a message dated 12/28/2012 4:22:37 P.M. Pacific Standard Time, mhampton(a)att.net writes: Unlike most of my generation and maybe the two after it; I did not grow up with a gun culture in my home. Because my father had died after a gun-related accident my mother decided my brother and I would not have guns in our lives. (This specifically meant John would not get toy guns as gifts.) As I remember, this lasted until I was seven or eight and John was three or four. Then my mother's father took me out and had me shoot a gun. I was turned off enough or at least unexcited by the experience so that I never remember doing it again. I asked my mother about this Christmas evening this year. She remembers our (small town, South Texas Hispanic) babysitter giving John a set of cowboy pistols earlier than that. John grew up to be in the Corps at Texas A&M and then do 20 years active duty in the Army. The same training does not necessarily communicate the same values. As an adult, well after my active Order days, I became a Quaker. My favorite short hand definition of the Religious Society of Friends is that we "respond to that of God in every person". That implies that we are not confronted with evil "men" or evil women. We are certainly confronted with evil action or at least acts universally regarded as painful and harmful. We cannot institutionalize everyone who is strange or even clearly outside the mainstream. We could decide to listen in family and others close see someone as dangerous. (The family of the paranoid schizophrenic executed by the state of Texas for murdering several people come to mind. They had tried for years to get help for him.) I was very struck by the article from the Buddhist monk who grew up in Newtown and wrote to Adam, the shooter. We choose what to own of the surrounding, prevasive values and culture. Community safety certainly seems a less red flag way into the discussions. May we all be blessed with eyes to see and hearts to respond to human need. Blessings for the New Year. mary hampton _______________________________________________ OE mailing list OE(a)lists.wedgeblade.net http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/oe-wedgeblade.net

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Change of personal email address for Herman Greene
by Herman Greene 28 Dec '12

28 Dec '12

Dear all, Please note that I have changed my personal email address from hfgreene(a)mindspring.com to hfgreenenc(a)gmail.com. This change is effective immediately. I will close my old account at the end of the year. Herman -- __________________________________________________ Herman F. Greene 2516 Winningham Road Chapel Hill, NC 27516 919-942-4358 (ph & fax) hfgreenenc(a)gmail.com

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Moore and Br. Phap Luu
by Jaime R Vergara 28 Dec '12

28 Dec '12

Thanks to Jack Giles and Paul Schrijnen for the two forwarded articles. Both moved us for two different reasons. It is not in the same league (this is not false modesty; our stream-of-consciousness method of writing fits the Asian penchant for indirection without much sensitivity to consistency and logic, often devoid of depth and focus) but being our penultimate contribution to our ending Saipan Tribune OpEd column (online today), I thought I'd add it to the reflection (admittedly anticlimactic since this group already got the final submission). We did intend it for a particular audience other than this listserv, so, let me take cover on that excuse for its shortcomings. For the last time, ... see you at the bend! Innocence It is Innocents'day in Christendom, to commemorate the massacre of newborn males in Bethlehemallegedly ordered by King Herod when the Three Kings failed to stop at thepalace after they tracked down the eastern star. Nice dramatic Middle Eastern touch save that Matthewlifted it out off the Moses story when young males were ordered killed alsowhile the Hebrew exodus leader was yet to suck his thumb in the cradle. The plight ofinnocents has been a strong undercurrent in liberal causes, ours included, inthe phrase "innocent suffering". MLK Jr. considered unearned suffering as redemptive, giving a non-Baptisttwist to the plight of African-American fight and flight from bonded servitude anddiscrimination into the "oasis of justice" in the Civil Rightsstruggle. In a world growninterrelated and interlaced, incidences of innocence have grown so intertwinedand interconnected to the rest of existence that to claim clean hands onanything jaded has become untenable. Either in acts of omission or commission, each participates in the fateand destiny of one's life. Indeed, noperson is an island. Culture already taintsus from the hour of conception into human practices hardly considered pure andchaste even before birth. The tutorialcenter where I volunteer on the weekends had three middle class parentsapproach our coordinator inquiring if I can tutor their six-year-old"treasured snowflakes" (reference to the 2nd generation "littleemperors" in China's one-child policy) in oral English to qualify them tothe elite Yi Cai bilingual school on the outskirt of the city. They even bought apartments in the area sothat they can qualify for the residency requirement. The three tots spendtheir Sunday afternoons from midday to two-chimes-after-sunset, on theirparents' schedule and comfort, in one hour-and-a-half session each, wading throughbasic Math (not arithmetic, mind you), oral, written, and vocabulary lessons inEnglish. Children who would otherwise befreely at play, or have their imaginations set loose to horizons never treadedbefore, sit quietly before teachers, to be instructed on quantifiable patternsand the intricacies of an organic foreign language. Other than thenatural rebellion when exceeding the attention span of seven minutes, the boredchildren participate in their "suffering" as a matter of obedience toparents, as well as partake at an early age, the gleam of the status symbolattached to attending the school of their intention. They are hardly innocent! Innocence as thelack of guilt, legal or otherwise, is no longer an experienced externalreality. It has moved to the realm ofthe subjunctive. It has become a matterof attitude. Avril Ramona Lavigne,the multi-talented French-Canadian performer, croons her Innocence in our Oral English class: Waking up I see that everything is OK The first time in my life and now it's so great Slowing down I look around and I am so amazed I think about the little things that make life great I wouldn't change a thing about it This is the best feeling. Not that I haveanything against the "I'm OK, you're OK" mindset, but it does soundboring, if not delusionary. This"best feeling" as innocence is my students' familiarity. We refer to this as the illusion of romanticlonging, totally internal and in the realm of a preferred personal perspective,consigned to the universe of moods and sentiments. Asked whatChristmas meant to our first generation China one-child-only denizens who wentabout their celebrative mood this year, and we get the nebulous "I amtogether with my family and we are happy" response. Corollary to thestance of innocence is the claim of victimization. Romney got a trouncing in the polls becausehe had the temerity to dub 47 percent of the American population as sorryvictims of misfortune simply out to leech off the largesse of the morefortunate productive and well-off ones through the distributive justiceprograms of the Federal government. Heexpressed a popular sentiment devoid of lucidity and truth. The Church callsHerod's alleged senseless political executions "holy innocents". The term is often applied to refugees caughtin the crossfire between government goons and their hardly quixoticopponents. We've known enough fleeingrefugees from Vietnam to the Philippines, Chinese beholden to tongs wanting tohead for NYC for $30K, Afghans and Iranis heading for Australia, even Yanbians wishingto cross into Korea, the huge undocumented immigrants in the US, and theoverstaying visitors in Japan. The EU hada more enlightened policy on migrants until reactive forces got too wary andanxious. "Innocents"is not be a word I use to describe the destitute sectors of humanity. But the issue ofrights falls squarely at the core of our times. There are issues on economic justice that precedes political ones. Culture is hardly questioned but it exerts considerableinfluence on everything that we do. Gunculture, anyone? NRA's Wayne La Pierre(Le Prick in French, I was told) boldly asserts that guns are not the problembut the solution to senseless killings. More armed guards are needed in public places. Thanks, but no, thanks. Manipulative andcoercive practices continue to shape our behavior. We might keep the "feeling" but change the practices. Mayhap, it is time to redefine innocence. j'aime la vie Yesterday, appreciate; tomorrow, anticipate; today, participate. In all, Celebrate!

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Fwd: From a monk in Plum Village....
by PSchrijnen＠aol.com 28 Dec '12

28 Dec '12

This is a valuable response to the Newton massacre from one of Sr Chau Niems (Kaira Lingo) colleagues, who is from Newton, and now lives in Plum Village. Paul Paul Schrijnen 13 Bloemfontein Avenue London W12 7BJ +44 7973 206 766 skype: paulus.schrijnen Saturday, 15th of December, 2012 Dharma Cloud Temple Plum Village Dear Adam, Let me start by saying that I wish for you to find peace. It would be easy just to call you a monster and condemn you for evermore, but I don't think that would help either of us. Given what you have done, I realize that peace may not be easy to find. In a fit of rage, delusion and fear�yes, above all else, I think, fear�you thought that killing was a way out. It was clearly a powerful emotion that drove you from your mother's dead body to massacre children and staff of Sandy Hook School and to turn the gun in the end on yourself. You decided that the game was over. But the game is not over, though you are dead. You didn't find a way out of your anger and loneliness. You live on in other forms, in the torn families and their despair, in the violation of their trust, in the gaping wound in a community, and in the countless articles and news reports spilling across the country and the world�yes, you live on even in me. I was also a young boy who grew up in Newtown. Now I am a Zen Buddhist monk. I see you quite clearly in me now, continued in the legacy of your actions, and I see that in death you have not become free. You know, I used to play soccer on the school field outside the room where you died, when I was the age of the children you killed. Our team was the Eagles, and we won our division that year. My mom still keeps the trophy stashed in a box. To be honest, I was and am not much of a soccer player. I've known winning, but I've also known losing, and being picked last for a spot on the team. I think you've known this too�the pain of rejection, isolation and loneliness. Loneliness too strong to bear. You are not alone in feeling this. When loneliness comes up it is so easy to seek refuge in a virtual world of computers and films, but do these really help or only increase our isolation? In our drive to be more connected, have we lost our true connection? I want to know what you did with your loneliness. Did you ever, like me, cope by walking in the forests that cover our town? I know well the slope that cuts from that school to the stream, shrouded by beech and white pine. It makes up the landscape of my mind. I remember well the thrill of heading out alone on a path winding its way�to Treadwell Park! At that time it felt like a magical path, one of many secrets I discovered throughout those forests, some still hidden. Did you ever lean your face on the rough furrows of an oak's bark, feeling its solid heartwood and tranquil vibrancy? Did you ever play in the course of a stream, making pools with the stones as if of this stretch you were king? Did you ever experience the healing, connection and peace that comes with such moments, like I often did? Or did your loneliness know only screens, with dancing figures of light at the bid of your will? How many false lives have you lived, how many shots fired, bombs exploded and lives lost in video games and movies? By killing yourself at the age of 20, you never gave yourself the chance to grow up and experience a sense of how life's wonders can bring happiness. I know at your age I hadn't yet seen how to do this. I am 37 now, about the age my teacher, the Buddha, realized there was a way out of suffering. I am not enlightened. This morning, when I heard the news, and read the words of my shocked classmates, within minutes a wave of sorrow arose, and I wept. Then I walked a bit further, into the woods skirting our monastery, and in the wet, winter cold of France, beside the laurel, I cried again. I cried for the children, for the teachers, for their families. But I also cried for you, Adam, because I think that I know you, though I know we have never met. I think that I know the landscape of your mind, because it is the landscape of my mind. I don't think you hated those children, or that you even hated your mother. I think you hated your loneliness. I cried because I have failed you. I have failed to show you how to cry. I have failed to sit and listen to you without judging or reacting. Like many of my peers, I left Newtown at seventeen, brimming with confidence and purpose, with the congratulations of friends and the approbation of my elders. I was one of the many young people who left, and in leaving we left others, including you, just born, behind. In that sense I am a part of the culture that failed you. I didn't know yet what a community was, or that I was a part of one, until I no longer had it, and so desperately needed it. I have failed to be one of the ones who could have been there to sit and listen to you. I was not there to help you to breathe and become aware of your strong emotions, to help you to see that you are more than just an emotion. But I am also certain that others in the community cared for you, loved you. Did you know it? In eighth grade I lived in terror of a classmate and his anger. It was the first time I knew aggression. No computer screen or television gave a way out, but my imagination and books. I dreamt myself a great wizard, blasting fireballs down the school corridor, so he would fear and respect me. Did you dream like this too? The way out of being a victim is not to become the destroyer. No matter how great your loneliness, how heavy your despair, you, like each one of us, still have the capacity to be awake, to be free, to be happy, without being the cause of anyone's sorrow. You didn't know that, or couldn't see that, and so you chose to destroy. We were not skillful enough to help you see a way out. With this terrible act you have let us know. Now I am listening, we are all listening, to you crying out from the hell of your misunderstanding. You are not alone, and you are not gone. And you may not be at peace until we can stop all our busyness, our quest for power, money or sex, our lives of fear and worry, and really listen to you, Adam, to be a friend, a brother, to you. With a good friend like that your loneliness might not have overwhelmed you. But we needed your help too, Adam. You needed to let us know that you were suffering, and that is not easy to do. It means overcoming pride, and that takes courage and humility. Because you were unable to do this, you have left a heavy legacy for generations to come. If we cannot learn how to connect with you and understand the loneliness, rage and despair you felt�which also lie deep and sometimes hidden within each one of us�not by connecting through Facebook or Twitter or email or telephone, but by really sitting with you and opening our hearts to you, your rage will manifest again in yet unforeseen forms. Now we know you are there. You are not random, or an aberration. Let your action move us to find a path out of the loneliness within each one of us. I have learned to use awareness of my breath to recognize and transform these overwhelming emotions, but I hope that every man, woman or child does not need to go halfway across the world to become a monk to learn how to do this. As a community we need to sit down and learn how to cherish life, not with gun-checks and security, but by being fully present for one another, by being truly there for one another. For me, this is the way to restore harmony to our communion. Douglas Bachman (Br. Phap Luu) who grew up at 22 Lake Rd. in Newtown, CT., is a Buddhist monk and student of the Vietnamese Zen Master and monk Thich Nhat Hanh. As part of an international community, he teaches Applied Ethics and the art of mindful living to students and school teachers. He lives in Plum Village Monastery, in Thenac, France. -- Met Hartelijke Groeten, Namens de Leidse Sangha "De Vrije Boeddha" Kerngroepleden: Frans van Zomeren - 06 - 5324 - 1996 Anne Remijn - 071 - 576 - 6312 Hans de Bruijn - 06 - 2454 - 4881 Peter Quik - 017 - 251 - 8411 Marian van Zomeren - 079 - 361 - 5355

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Fwd: Last OpEd from Jaime
by Jaime R Vergara 28 Dec '12

28 Dec '12

Our last Saipan Tribune OpEd. The usual caveat: curious, welcome; not, see you at the bend. j'aime la vie Yesterday, appreciate; tomorrow, anticipate; today, participate. In all, Celebrate! -----Original Message----- From: Jaime R Vergara <jrvergarajr2031(a)aol.com> To: jayvee_vallejera <jayvee_vallejera(a)saipantribune.com>; mark_rabago <mark_rabago(a)saipantribune.com>; editor <editor(a)saipantribune.com> Sent: Thu, Dec 27, 2012 12:29 pm Subject: Last OpEd from Jaime Editorial, Here it is, the last one, for December 31. The Way We Are Whitney Houston's OneMoment in Time was our song with 40-some graduate aggies lassoed to applytheir learned skills in watershed resource management projects in three Visayanprovinces in the Philippines in the late 80s. We caught the spirit of the song from the 1988 Seoul Summer Olympics. The song solidified the groups resolve to expend theirindividual and corporate lives on a task perceived critical to devastatedupland agriculture, deforested tropical hills and plains, overly chemical-ladenfields, and depleted mangrove and nearshore fisheries. It was a marvelous three-year intervention, our city shoes trekking through islandinteriors. We even had the staff of onesite sue us in court for falling short on our vaunted support promises. We trained them too well. I was in agreement with the suit brought againstme since I was the President of the sponsoring NGO for the projects. I moved back to the US before the case wasresolved. I found out later that ourcharity foundation lost, and I was not too unhappy! This is our last reflection as a regular opinion writer forthe Saipan Tribune. We shall not make the "thank you"to the publisher, staff, and readers, a long process. We did have a special niche for Ruth Tighe'sbrand of social commentaries. We consignour literary output, as is, into history, in her name. We shared on the day before Christmas our curriculum vitaefrom womb-to-tomb. Not your regular CV,we took the "one moment in time" metaphor to describe a lifetime - inour case, all 86 years of it - charted in five life stages, projected aswitness to our description of every human soul that comes into this earth. "I am, like each of us, one, unique,unrepeatable gift of life into human history. There has never been one like me before, and there will never be anotherone like me ever again." That wholebut single journey is my one moment in time! Most of our university classrooms are designed for lecturedeliveries, and students expect that format in all their classes. When they come to mine, where pedagogyfollows the "kill the teacher" motif in order to make the classrooma student-centered affair, they encounter structured time/space/role/story sessionswhere students meet themselves ("its a pleasure to meet me"), bumpinto their classmates "again for the first time", get mentally and gracefullyassaulted by a teacher, and gnawed at their awareness by printed speeches andwritings of prominent persons. Maps plastered against the walls broaden perspectives. Aired songs engage the neglected receptacle ofhearing and listening, and repeating. Wego for the ease and comfort of sounds becoming familiar before we divertattention to words seen, then seek out how they are used. We let students read out loud what others hadwritten before we invite them to write their own. Many encounters occur at many levels ofconsciousness. One of the rituals I go through before each start of theclass, after chairs and desks are rearranged so that the focus is on the centerof the room while clusters of four students are around one of eight or nine squaredtables, is to put on a table cloth on a single desk in the middle of the room. The cloth is a scarf not unlike what Yasser Arafat'sPalestinian head wore. I place a brokencoffee cup at the center with rice strewn around it in a circle. The cup's broken handle and rim chip are added,with shards of very old pagoda tiles mixed in. A Chinese hand fan leans against the chipped lip of the cup. A couple of whole walnuts sit atop the ricewhile local conch shells from Bo Hai guard the sides. Chopsticks stay by their lonesome at the edge. Once in a while, a paper rose protrudes fromthe cup. The class is only too polite to ask why the crazy (shen jing ping) teacher does thisregular routine. At the end of the semester, I finally talk about thecenterpiece. "The decor is not tomake the room more beautiful", I say. It is an artform to represent who I am and how I live. It is way of telling my story. I am like the broken cup, well crafted but fragile. In this case, broken. The rice looks inviting but it is uselessunless it is cooked. That entailsheat. The intricate shell takes a lot ofmullusk saliva to create but the cask is casually cast away after the contentis consumed. The fan reveals how unfairlife is. The Chinese worker who makes itgets paid a minuscule amount for time and talent compared to what Korean,German, and Japanese counterparts make to assemble electronics. The walnut has to be cracked to be of anygood to anyone. After 6 decades, I haveto learn to use a chopstick to survive. On top of it all, sometimes a fake rose gets to preside. "That pretty much tells the story of my life," Isay. But it is the only life Ihave. I can live it, or throw itaway. (Then it dawns on the class wheremy listen-repeat start of each session comes from.) So, for the last time, the class repeats after me:"This is the day we have. We canlive this day, or throw it away. This isthe day we have." It's the way weare! Thanks, y'all. j'aime la vie Yesterday, appreciate; tomorrow, anticipate; today, participate. In all, Celebrate!

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