OnLine With Zoe

Why is this Night Different than any Other?

I bet I am not the only person who is running internal inventory, trying to understand why things feel so bad.  Where to even begin? 

This last week has taken our nation deeper into hellfire than I thought possible.  However, I really want to measure why this, this, THIS is so suffocating. 

I turn to an idea that has worked for me over the years – the differential.  It is not one point vs another.  It is the distance between them and the time that transpired to discover the space traveled. 

Two years ago, no one expected anything like what we are now living with every day.  No one could ever have predicted that a deranged man would have a majority of boot-licking courtiers in Congress.  Today, explicit acts of hate are unleashed, celebrated and expected; heroic actually.

But even in this ghoulish nightmare of devil advocacy, something more is needling me.  I think that the anniversary, of how I felt two years ago is the gravest differential I have ever traveled.  Regardless of how anyone feels about Sec. Clinton, two years ago I was dreaming that a gigantic change was in the making.  On the second Tuesday of November, 2016, I believed Roe would be secure, Women in office would be “normalized,” the next four years would build to crescendo of celebrating the Centennial of the Vote.  Women would begin awakening to true potential.
 
Back to why this is feeling like death itself.  It is not that I am disappointed that my candidate lost.  It is not that I am a democrat and GOP is in control.  It is nothing happening specifically.  My pain lives in the distance between what I thought my 68 years were leading to and that, in fact, a nazi, narcissist with his enrolled thugs are moving at lightning speed disassembling human rights.  This river is wider than I thought was possible to cross. 

I am a sanctuary person, you are safe with me.

I have not talked about it much. It is not something I felt like amplifying. It would not help me or anyone. So from November 8 through last week, my light was flickering. I suppose I don’t like talking about things which have no whisper of a solution.

February 1st, I dragged myself to hear Rev. Dr. Barber. I have written about him, watched him, love him; never heard him in person.

Occasionally, the spirit just takes over, makes the healthy decision which is a clear demonstration that it is still in there. It is still oiled and ready to go. It may be asleep but not dead.  And so I got on the freeway and hoped.

Going in, I felt that there was nothing I could do about the changed direction of government, about the demolition of human rights, about the backlash.  I felt that at age 68, the equality, the equity, the balance I had invested everything in was vanishing.  It was an unmanageable loss.  It was so much larger than the loss of Sec. Clinton.  In fact it was a growing deadly virus that was unleashed and unpredictable.

You would think after all these years of meditation and study, that the fundamentals of Buddhist practice would have kept me afloat.  It is exactly that seeming failure that made recovery feel impossible.  I wanted to reassemble.  I wanted to get new lamps, fill them with new oil and begin anew as it seemed the old had disappeared, fallen to the trash heap, never to recover and serve again. 

And so it began.  He brought his axe and pick.  He dug in. 

As I told the Long Beach City Council, ~

Last week I had the immeasurable good fortune to hear Rev Dr. William Barber speak.
He was here from North Carolina to receive an honorary doctorate from Occidental College.
He is one of the founders of Moral Mondays, The Forward Together Movement and Repairers of the Breach.

He lives and breathes on the acute intersection of social justice and examined Christianity.
He told us many things that night.
He even got me to sing and clap.     He is irresistible. 

First he captured my mind with his deep understanding of how this moment in history predictably unfurled.
Then he nourished my soul with a call to care for the poor, disenfranchised and marginalized.

But most importantly, he lifted me from a spiritual dark despair by explaining that ~
This is not democrats vs GOP
This is not rich vs poor
This is not thugs vs righteous people

This is a crisis
This is a moral crisis
This is a moral crisis that has been born over centuries and lives in systemic racism, classism and sexism.

Today we are called to mind the light.
Today we are called to be the light.
This is the ultimate call to be a moral society, a moral people, beginning by being a moral person.

This is the moment when we demand morality from ourselves and let that morality pour forward as a beacon to light the way for others to find safety with us.  

Being a sanctuary city is the very least we can do.
To be a Sanctuary City does not just mean protection of those at risk.
To be a Sanctuary City is not just a public statement that we can proudly bear. 

To offer sanctuary to all who love freedom and liberty,
Opens our hearts,
Restores our souls,
It lifts our intentions and prayers above the law
And begins to repair our broken spirit. 

Let us be a sanctuary city.
Let us be a sanctuary to one another.
Let us be a sanctuary to ourselves.

To start, I am a sanctuary person, you are safe with me.

Love Letter to Long Beach 2015

It was so alarming I could not take pictures. May 2, 2 P.M., 50 boxes were on the ground with nowhere to go. Two principle 6’ bookshelves had no wall space. No kitchen cupboards, no washer & dryer, no sofa. The sun was going down, a dozen people were trying to pile in whatever they could and an unrelenting inner voice kept whispering, “put it in the garage.” A bounding inner voice shouted, “there is no garage, there is no fence, there is no backyard.” The only smart stroke was that the gigantic poodle was overnight at her godmother’s house.

On the other column was that there were ten people organizing my new home. Before the moving truck arrived, one person had all of the technology up and running and two artists had delivered and arranged my mini-garden. Miracles began piling up in the form of things fitting within one inch or less; the desk, the Ikea shelves, the hangers, the shoes, the dishes, etc. Neighbors said hello as they walked up and down the street. Dogs and bikes. People speaking other than English and people who were not white. This was not the isolated island of xenophobes with Prop 8 lawn signs that was in my rearview mirror. This was Long Beach, this was Rose Park, this was the 2^nd most diverse city in the US.

In the course of a day, you might hear six disparate sirens. In the course of a month, you would meet 20+ people. In the month of July, you will hear 31 nights of fireworks. Locking doors is how it is done. Saying hello is the minimum. On a Saturday afternoon, you can hear 8 different music tracks reflecting the community. AND you can get the best Mexican food without crossing a street, right around the corner. As my friend Jean said, “This is truly urban living.”

Possibly the epitome happened in June. A man on a bike hollered into the house, “Hey can I buy one of your statues?” I stood on my porch and said no, they are not for sale. He said his mother liked them and wants one. I said, sorry, they are not for sale. The next day he came back and hollered in again. I went to see what’s what. He had a silver spray painted Buddha. He gave it to me explaining that he found it and thought I would like it. When I relayed this story to 2 local friends, they said, “That’s so Long Beach.” And now, after 8 months, I am accustomed to saying that to myself constantly, as friendliness rises up from the sidewalks, That is SO Long Beach. 

All new streets with the only familiar orientation being the ocean. The rising and setting sun assured me that I could not get too terribly lost. My GPS was my best friend. After a few google searches I noticed a pattern; nothing I wanted was more than 6 minutes away. The LGBTQ Center is 4.5 minutes. City Hall is 6 minutes. Vons and Ralphs are under 6 minutes and the master blaster was on a HOTTTT August day, there was a paleta shop 6 minutes from my house. Fifty flavors and no one spoke English. I got to stumble with my Buenos Dias, Muchos Gracias and Adios. It is no accident that the Museum of Latin American Art is 5.5 minutes, however the opening of the Frida Kahlo show was beyond an oyster’s pearl.

During Pride all of the statues wore rainbow leis. For the Dalai Lama’s birthday, I hung a Tibetan flag. Months later a woman introduced herself to me saying that she knew she wanted to know the woman in that house. You will find it hard to believe that she was saying it to a man who put up my flag pole and was my high school student in 1972. And just imagine, my letter carrier dressed as Dexter for Halloween delivery. The introductions began so fast and often that I had to admit I will never remember them all.

It’s a long, beautiful drive from Dana Rohrabacher to Alan Lowenthal. It’s a leap from posting support on facebook for $15 minimum wages to sitting at a city council meeting listening to workers stories of raising kids on $9 an hour. It is beyond my expectation that I know people running for City Council in my district and they know my name. I am bursting with national expectation over Hillary #45 but celebrating that now, for me, politics is local and I am engaged.

I did a couple of really interesting things in my new city and county. I went to a different church every week and I said yes to every meeting invitation for 5 months.

I have never had access to so many people who share many of the causes, ideas, and politics I hold. An organizer asked me to coffee which might have seemed normal to her but to me it was unheard of. I have stood in the lobby of the Renaissance Hotel in protest, I have been on the Bluffs on World AIDS Day, I prayed in front of the courthouse for gun control. I read a poem at an open mic and spoke of an activist longevity at the Grrrl Collective. I have been welcomed at a Black Lives Matter meeting and talked on a panel on the Whitewashing of Stonewall. I have argued vehemently that transwomen are women and discovered that my lifelong friend is a living hero here in Long Beach.

 

My journey through the churches was equally rich and surprising. After one service on integration, I suggested to a woman that they might offer a Sunday service in Spanish, to be told that no one in the area speaks Spanish and that is why people live there. After the shooting in South Carolina, I took flowers to a service at the Grant Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church to experience song and community as I have never seen. 
Surreptitiously, even to myself, I was searching to see if there was a place to begin public ministry teaching Engaged Buddhism. Almost unbelievably, the perfect multi-faith church is on the next block where I walk the dog most days.

All of this leaves me with two big unknowns. My new friend Kenny and I talk about it often. There is so much going on, how can one choose and where is the greatest opportunity for service. We want to do them all.

Primarily, Long Beach needs affordable housing for Queers; seniors and the homeless. I want to be a part of that long-overdue ground breaking. Personally, I want to use my fifty years of activism to inspire and advise high-risk militant change-makers.

Finally, I want to remember the names of dozens of people who know mine. Just today, as I was walking my dog, a neighbor shouted from the back of her house, “Merry Christmas, Zoe.”
Merry Christmas, Dusty.
Merry Christmas, Long Beach. 

Buddhism is Always Couture

Just before waking today, I had a dream.  I was working in a room with two friends, most likely for a demonstration for Gender Rights.  One of them told me that I needed to be public about a recent decision. Gossip had begun, maybe just speculation. A woman had mentioned to them that all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I showed up at an One Billion Rising event wearing a Buddhist robe.  Interesting….   This has been on my waking mind all week.  I have been wanting to write about it.  Seemed like a strong nudge.   

When I got to my desk, I saw that two posts on my newsfeed were in agreement.   The first, Overcoming Resistance Against Theravada Bhikkhuni Ordination. It was about Buddha teaching the equality of women and how his male students overturned it once their founder died.  The second one, by The Yogini Project was about the Fourteenth Precept.  “"The fourteenth root downfall is to have contempt for women, who have the nature of wisdom. It is said that to have contempt for Vajrayogini and other wisdom dakinis who transcend the world constitutes a root downfall in both the Yogatantra and the Anuttaratantra.”   

The fact is there are communities of women in most religions who are filled with passion, a vocation, an irresistible call to teach, to celebrate ritual and minister communities.  There are Catholic women in the US and Europe not waiting for the Pope and his Cardinals to get the heavenly memo to ordain women. Maybe it is the right time for women to name themselves.  For me it has been an exhausting struggle for twenty-five years.  January 24, 1989, I was formally initiated as Buddhist monk.  It was in the Vajrayana Tradition in Tarrytown, New York.

From The Passionate Heart ~

On this night, Rama had given us two initiations; Vadra and Dharma.  The Vadra initiation was the initiation of power.  It gave the initiate the ability to defeat any opponent.  This included breaking through conditioning and past life tendencies.  It was extremely important for the women in particular, who are trying to overcome centuries of repression, degradation, bondage, torture, and misery.  Finally, this initiation conferred the power to break through the ultimate opponent, thought. 

The second initiation, Dharma, imparted the gift to teach about the Holy Dharma and meditation.  Rama said that we were not ready to formally teach, but now our lives should be examples of the Dharma.  Now, we carry the imprint of this initiation and our lives should reflect the Holy Dharma.  Rama told us that when he dies, it will be our duty to carry on the Teachings of the American Buddhist Society.  While he is alive, we should talk about meditation to anyone who genuinely asks.

After that, I stayed for 4 years. I was catapulted out the door to practice in the world.  Twenty-two years revealed that I am actually meant to practice Engaged Buddhism, I am not standing in a male lineage and I am a monk.  I had to practice, as Gandhi would put it, I had to experiment.  But nothing could deter me from my vocation.  Possibly more like my teacher than I want to admit, he left his and I left mine.  He named himself and I invested myself.  To me this is as Buddhist as it gets: true Self-Discovery.    

As women all over the world, announce their ordination, I hope they remain self-initiated, self-ordained, self-defined.  Even if the various churches drop their bans, I hope the women decline the “laying on of hands.” Decline the principle transmission and stop the antiquated, patriarchcal tradition of succession.  Somewhere in time from their founder to this moment, essence has been lost, modified and, at worst, tailored to meet the conscience of the day.  (“I cannot and will not cut my conscience to fit this year's fashions.”  Lillian Hellman)  And so after waiting twenty-five years, certain it is right, I made my move.  Buddhist Couture.  Match the inside and the outside.

From The Engaged Heart  

My best guess is that there are more women in the West whose souls are bringing them to their moment of initiation but are reluctant to stand in their self-discovery.  We are attracted to the design of our incarnation while being repelled by patriarchal lineage…  We do not want to be ordained in a male lineage and we do not want to emulate male lineage at all.  There is no one to “lay on hands” or assign a name.  There is no one to bless us and give us a traditional robe.  There is nothing to reference – certainly not by looking backwards over centuries of male legacy.  This is without tradition. This is not a line. 

We are at the precipice of adventure, pioneers in Western Women’s self-discovery.  Our calling comes from the inside out.  Our knowing rises up from the heart.  It radiates.  It circulates.  This is not linear but circular.  It is not bestowed.  It cannot be requested as there is no one to ask.  It is dynamic and changing and unpredictable for there is no precedent.  By its very nature, only you can know that you are called to this service.  No one can tell you if you are right or wrong.  It is all your design.  So if you are hearing a song from deep within, hum the melody, write the lyrics and sing.  Wait for no one.   

The Self Interview Unchained

I am not a fan of chain mail, email, posts.  I don’t respond in five minutes with six people I want to hug or send angels to rescue.  I don’t want to tell you my last meal choice, the one word to describe you or post what ten words I would say if you called for bail.  But ask me about writing, about my books, about “Intellectual Activism” in the words of Patricia Hill Collins and I will clear my desk. 

This fine morning Shannon Drury, The Radical Housewife, included me in a facebook post.  She had been enlisted by Sonya Huber, who asked about The Next Big Thing.   Sonya says, “Basically, I get to answer these questions and then tag five writers who I think are the Next Big Thing. Very cool!”  I concur.

What is the title of your book? 
The Engaged Heart ~ An Activist’s Life. 

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
How did I get from there to here? 

What genre does your book fall under?
Political Memoir
(I want to use Lerner’s phrase, Political Autobiography but Frey robbed us all of using the word autobiography and, frankly, memoir leaves a lot more latitude) 

Where did the idea come from for the book?
My practice is Engaged Buddhism.  I think the best way to talk about it is through the demonstration of a life.  I hope that my life, my story, my passion, as manifest in my political activism, will inspire, inform and possibly ignite a few activists who just cannot stop.  No, you can’t when it is your calling.  Lucky you.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
Microsoft Word took care of that, 1,410 hours at the keyboard and about the same amount of time sorting through my life.  I looked at every photo, every document, every Filofax 1985 – 2012 and all 515 blogs I had written over the last 14 years.  I made a 25 page-  two column outline of events of my life and then began to color outside the lines, off the page and on the walls. 
The most interesting thing was watching the events stream by like cars in a train, passing through some type of selection machine, awarding or discarding importance.  At 64 I was constantly surprised with what was significant and what was entirely forgettable.  Many things  I thought valuable deserved no remark and were flicked away forever.  Like sorting the attic, I organized my life.  It was industrial strength roto-rooter self-discovery.  I highly recommend it.     

Who or what inspired you to write this book? 
Doris Stevens, Lillian Hellman, Beatrix Potter, M.K.Gandhi, Paulo Friere, so many, so many.  But more honestly the answer is the tragedy, the broken heartedness of wanting to read a person’s own life story to find there is none.  What did SHE think about this or that.  How did She manage that disappointment?  Where did SHE find the courage to continue when nothing was working?  How did SHE not give up? 
The most incendiary thing for me was the movie, Iron Jawed Angels.  How could anyone represent Alice Paul as such an insipid fool?  And the movie, Milk which portrays Harvey as a single faceted human being when he was infinitely more.  The true story is always so much better than some watered down, product-placed piece of cheery fiction.  I don’t want to see the newly released acclaimed Lincoln once I read that the Black characters are slivers of their true selves. 
I want to know that Alice hid a copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry in her skirt when taken to jail and threw it at a window in the suffocating dining hall for a bit of air.  What was to be gained in showing her throwing a shoe as done in the movie.  Why invent a boyfriend?  Was Hollywood so unable to make a movie about a woman without a boyfriend?  Where is your political memoir, Alice?    

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
In 2001 I submitted my book about fasting for the ratification of the ERA.  I have a file of 28 rejection letters which all say the same thing, Dear Ms. Nicholson, Thank you for all you have done for the ERA and this wonderful book.  We could not sell a book on feminism in the current market.  Wish you all the best.  I did what I always do, what I like a lot about me – I did it myself.  I learned all I could about the professional production of books and started my own publishing company, Lune Soleil Press.  LSP is publishing The Engaged Heart. 

What other works would you compare this book to within your genre?  (I would amend this to say books that inspire)
Fireweed, A Political Autobiography
My Experiments with Truth
Autobiography of a Yogi
The Sun at Midnight
Cave in the Snow

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
I would so prefer a documentary, like the Times of Harvey Milk or Last Call at Maud’s.  But if I had to choose, it would be Rosie O’Donnell.  Maybe she could gain some weight for the role. 

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
The provenance of change is what consumes me.  How does it occur?   What pushes it forward and why does it stall or reverse?  Since change occurs from the inside out, the only way to see how it happens is to look inside.  I have dug deeply, told the truth and never opted to sweeten a telling. The goal was to excavate how a mind and heart change. 

Who or What are your Next Big Things?  
Wilder than any rollercoaster – I am a wreck waiting for it to come out.  I handed my pdf off to the designer, finished a successful Kickstarter campaign to finance it and contacted my printer.  Readers, reviews, who’s pissed because I did or did not talk about them.  Yikes! February it will be out in paper.  It is currently available in Kindle.

Now I am working on a new presentation, The Provenance of Change.  We need to understand change and consciously join with it.  Reproductive Autonomy, Full Federal Equality, Gender Equity and political representation = change at the speed of light rushing through the intergalactic Wi-Fi.  What a time to be alive. 

YOU - you are the next big thing.  What are you going to do now?  I want to see and cheer.  What is going to happen to women who want full access to political process?  What is going to happen as LGBT are visible in all segments of society?  What is the oppressor going to do as the oppressed are finding one another and uniting to say, ENOUGH is ENOUGH?  YOU are the Next big and best thing! 

Kickstarter Campaign to take The Engaged Heart to Print

Writing for a year, actually 1,410 hours, my 4th book is done.  Over 500 pages with 120+ pictures, The Engaged Heart is my whole life memoir.

When I started, I thought I would write it and offer it only on kindle.  The Hungry Heart and The Passionate Heart are available on kindle now. 

Then people started asking for a signed paper edition of the new one. They said they wanted to hold it, write in the margins, stuff it in a suitcase. 

I don't have the money for my designer to format for print (very different from kindle), a big print run or storage.  I investigated a bit and found out that my printer, Worzalla, offers both Print on Demand and recycled paper.  I can order in small affordable increments and will not have the problem of climate-controlled storage. 

Watching campaigns on kickstarter inspired me to give it a go.  With quotes from both my graphic designer and printer, $4,000 would assure The Engaged Heart would go to print.  I hope you will consider becoming a backer.  There are lots of rewards; signed books, postcards, movie screenings. 

Maybe you don't know what kickstarter is.  It is a collective funder which vets a project, posts serious ones, and only pays out if the goal is met.  In fact, if the goal not met, no one is charged for their pledge.  Stop by, pick out a reward and make a pledge. 

This is a wild ride but I already made my commitment.  Seems I made it a long time ago!  Thanks for pitching in and being a part of this latest adventure.     

Dreaming about 21st Century American Buddhism

As I work on a new book The Engaged Heart, I went back over 500 weblogs I have posted in the last twelve years.  Seems I have been wanted to redesign American Buddhism for some time.

7/23/2003  A Buddhist Dream
      Monks needed something to do.  Or I want to go so far as to say that there are men and women whose hearts are spilling over with passion and have no place to spend it.  There are men and women who have a burning desire to live with intention -- to know no meaningless breath  --  to be fully engaged, awake, filled with purpose and part of a whole.
       This level of passion never seeks rest from the spirit.  The body dances and the mind spins in deference to the spirit, as the spirit is ruler, supreme choreographer, beloved whisperer.  The passionate heart always chooses to listen.  It is not that they have no choice.  They have every choice and they choose spirit.  It runs deeper than desire.  It is not content with occasional service.  It cannot live in patchwork fashion; serving one hour a day, one day a week or one step at a time.  It requires fulltime dedication or fulltime mourning.  It is a matter of depth that longs to be filled, longs to be spent.  This passion must be of service.  This passion wants to be integrated into society -- meeting needs -- developing new ways to address new problems.  This passion is a lasting, reliable, sobering intoxicant. 
      I was dreaming.  I am dreaming.  It is a dream of Buddhist orders of American men and women who lead passionate lives of genuine integrated service.  Warriors of light  Teachers of stillness.  Leaders of joyous clarity ñ building spiritual communities that are fully and fearlessly integrated into American life -- uplifting us all. 

8/15/2003 Heart of Astrology
      The 20th Century created a flood of information.  To process and organize all of it, everything was reduced to smaller, more understandable components.    People were categorized.  Cells were classified.  DNA was identified.  It lead to great encyclopedic knowledge and terrible exploitation of atoms.  A person was divvied up by specializing doctors proclaiming their turf; leaving us with a nightmare of trying to piece ourselves back together. 
      The 21st Century is the time to unite.  It is time to see the forest, the overall effect, the whole of humanity, the integration of body, mind, soul and spirit.  It is time to stand hand in hand; dissolving boundaries and drawing others into larger and larger circles of inclusion and integration.  It is time to focus on what unites us: every study, every discipline, every phylum, every being, every molecule.  It is time to embrace and hold dear every dissected isolated granule of life.  It is time to recognize that the division of the last century, that lonely disparity, was merely an illusion and in reality everything and everyone is a unified whole joined together in infinite motion.   Illuminated with prayer, meditation and understanding, the very things which separate will be the things which bring us together.

8/28/2003  American Buddhism
On my 55^th birthday ~
     First, I believe that my definition requires no agreement.  Nor does yours.  Second, Buddhism occurs from within a culture.  It cannot be imported or exported.  Historically, the imported forms always fade.  Each culture creates its own form.  It unfolds as their culture ages.  India, China, Japan, Thailand and others slowly, elegantly unfolded their own Buddhism.  Sects are not shards from a main teaching, but a genuine and relevant customization.  Third, Buddhism involves the conscious construction (call it deconstruction or reconstruction) of the internal landscape.  The mind is watched, organized, disciplined, controlled, emptied, filled and brightly lighted. 
      Finally, I believe that American Buddhism will not arrive via an ocean.  No jet or ship or text or teaching will ultimately establish American Buddhism.  It will unfold in the minds of Americans who integrate their practice within the context of their culture.  It will be appropriate, natural, useful, unique, exquisite and it will be truly American.  It is percolating tonight in the practice of thousands of Americans.  I hope I live long enough to see it named.

Appreciative Inquiry

 

Have you ever heard that Madonna has had such a long career because she keeps reinventing herself.  It’s a funny idea to a Buddhist.  How could one not continue to invent a new self.  To me it would take more energy to stop change.  Would you faint from holding your breath?  Maybe an iron maiden could stop physical growth but nothing can stop the mind (even a coma?). 

Given the gift of being 63, I am able to look at the timeline of my life and see where the big changes happened, how they ignited, percolated, burst out and, finally, integrated into everyday life.  One of the bigger quakes occurred upon discovering a whole burst of thought about leadership, inquiry, conversations and servant-leadership.  Greenleaf, Brown, Wheatley, Cooperrider and Whitney absorbed me for several years after the turn of this century.   

How it shows up in my life is constant.  Pacific Shore NOW was convened after holding a Feminist Café in my backyard; a brilliant young slate of women were elected to California NOW after holding a Young Feminist Summit in Sacramento; my openness to the LGBTQAI culture, language and spectrum of expression is the outcome of respecting the honest question and the honest answer. 

At the core of this whole line of study is an understanding that positive inquiry draws out something valuable, wholesome, interesting.  I have had the honor of being interviewed by college students working on papers, radio shows, TV programs, archivists, journalists.  I don’t recall ever declining a genuine interview – though I have tried to talk people out of them for fear that they will be disappointed. 

This last Sunday I was interviewed by a friend, Veronica.  I warned her that I would not be a good interview and she insisted.  I am so glad she did.  She asked new questions, interesting questions, challenging questions.  I love it when I think ~ oh oh I wonder what I am gonna say.  And, Veronica was open to being asked questions too.  It was a true conversation.  I am so glad I said yes but, moreover, I am so glad she asked. 

Here is the interview as an mp3 (mouse over the bar and an arrow appears on the left):

VS interview 04222012

At the end of the call, Veronica said that she hoped one day I would post my third book, Matri, Letters from the Mother on the internet. 

Thank you for asking and here it is in its entirety.

 

 

Occupy Generation ~ Occupy Heart

While Berkeley is being occupied, visited by Daniel Ellsberg, tents on the Mario Savio Square, I feel so much more than nostalgia.  I am rifling through my mind to figure how on earth I found out about the Free Speech Movement.  It was not on the Nightly News with Huntley Brinkley, it was not in the local papers (Milwaukee Journal and Milwaukee Sentinel), it was not dinner conversation in my home or any home I visited.  You can know it was not in my Catholic Church; they were not pro-Kennedy.  It was not the lunch talk over tuna noodles or sloppy joes. 

To say there was no internet, there were no PC’s but, moreover, there was no lateral communication that had a secret factor as there is today.  Many adults have not kept up with electronic news possibilities; they merely read CNN on their ipad rather than fish for the Guardian or Al Jezeera.  Though I carry my own biases, it appears to me that many people my age who are devotees of Amy Goodman and foreign press are child-free or involved in learning professions. 

Somehow I knew, I knew about Birmingham, I knew about Martin Luther King, I knew about the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act.  Somehow it found me.   My compass was set on autopilot to point 180 degrees from anything my mother supported; Wisconsinite, Joseph McCarthy; the Committee on Un-American Activities; the John Birth Society; crazy messages about communism including people building air raid shelters in their basements. 

Mind you this is all before Betty Friedan, before PC’s, before Stonewall, before HIV/AIDS, before home pregnancy tests, before thousands of things that are now simply, “in the water.”  As best I can measure how it got to me at 15, it was books, music and a genuine taste for fundamental resistance to the same ole, same ole.  Anything that had been tested, tried and true was toxic and antiquated.  Change was being born, born in me; where else could it be?  Yes, I was a genuine card-carrying anti-war hippie by the time I was 19.  I wore overalls with an American Flag sewn upside down on the bib. 

Today as I watch the news, comb through facebook, watch youtube videos and search on #OWS I see the outcome of a sliver of that investment.  And there are Joan Baez and Crosby & Nash singing right on queue.  I see 19 year olds and 25 year olds who are moving the world one change at a time.  The human mic, refusing dogma, demanding equality, valuing books, standing in unison. It isn’t déjà vu all over again, it is burgeoning brilliance roaring across the earth on the finest brand of courageous NEW.  From Marines to medics, from seniors to daycare, from a few to a thousand, change is being born in each and every one. 

But here is what you may not know, what you may not have realized.  Today there is a kid, 12 or 13, who is lost in a sea of toxic traditions of bigotry and fear, who is taking it all in.  They are writing it all on the walls of their heart.  They will continue on a lifetime trajectory, now plugged in, and, whoa, change is gonna come, born at the speed of light, fueled by today’s resistance, informed on a scale I can not even dream of.  Oh, lucky kid.  Oh, better world.

Equality ~ Nothing Less Will Do

The Equal Rights Amendment has been on my mind, in my spirit and written across my heart for over 30 years.  After going to the National Equality March it is crystal clear to me that the country is roaring with the word EQUALITY and this is the perfect time to build an ERA internet portal.   It has been a long time dream of mine to have one central  location on the internet where people could find current information on constitutional equality. 

On Wednesday, October 14 I woke up at 3 AM with the words ERA ONCE AND FOR ALL blinking in my mind – like a neon sign.  By noon I bought the url, opened the twitter account (@eraforall) started a facebook page and got a gmail account.  I suppose it is proof that when it is the right thing do to – it all just comes together.  With the help of my electronic tribe; Phillip, Everett and Patty, it came together in 15 days.  http://ERAOnceandForAll.com 

There are lots of ERA sites, most are campaigning for one specific strategy to advance constitutional equality. I don’t mind that so much as I mind being negative about any other strategy.  I have zero interest in speaking against any strategy.  Spiritually, there is nothing to be gained by speaking against either strategy, everything to gain by supporting both and, finally, when one catches fire ~ we can all push like hell together!

Http://eraonceandforall.com  ‘s mission  is
•  support all strategies for the passage of the Equal Rights Amendment
•  distribution of information on the current status of the ERA
•  education on the history of the ERA

Check out the fantastic endorsement page = http://eraonceandforall.com/endorsements.html 

Email your name and organization and business to be listed.  You are all welcome to comment, to send in things to post, to note actions.  Do you have a site or ERA blog you would like listed?     

This last week I have been spinning in a cyclone of miracles.  One of them is that for the very first time, I saw video of the 1982 fast.  I made a video of it playing on my computer.  It is very degraded and 27 years old but you may enjoy it anyway.