mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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If we were having coffee I would tell you all how happy I am to be able to visit with all my invisible friends around this coffee table and around the world each weekend. Sharing a few details of our personal lives shifts the attention away from politics and impending doom. Please select a tea of your choice from the wide selection of white, green, herbal and roiboos. I am drinking white strawberry tea on ice because I had plenty of coffee earlier. Help yourself to a cup of medium roast coffee, or some hot spiced apple cider. Apples and nuts are here for our snacking pleasure. Make yourself at home and tell me how your week has gone. Did you have an eventful Halloween?
Here, the Halloween decorations are down and the cover has been removed from the wood stove. I have removed curtains for the winter to let in extra light during the day. I found some solar lights on super discount at Amazon and responded by ordering three new strings to go with the purple ones I had in the front yard for Halloween. Now my front and back yards are all a twinkle when the sun goes down so early. This somehow makes me very happy even though we may be hurdling toward the end of days of our political system. I can count on the solar energy to delight me with twinkling even if our electrical grid is attacked by hackers. I am easily amused, and that is a damn good thing. I am making the most of the comedy available in the political situation. The agony and the ecstasy of this time is unprecedented because there is plenty of information, but intelligence is hard to discern.
Intelligence has two distinct meanings as a noun. It means the ability to acquire skills and knowledge, as in one’s native intelligence. Intelligence is also used to refer to the collection of information of a political or military nature. We have a federal bureau to handle the collection of domestic intelligence. It is called the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have WikiLeaks for leaking evidence to the public. We have political parties to dig up dish on the opponents and scorch the earth. There is no time remaining before the election to sort out fact from fiction. The assault of too much information does not result in intelligence. It simply overflows the available space with claims and contentions. It may be the antithesis of intelligence.
I voted as soon as my ballot arrived, so my focus has been on enjoying my community and friends to the max right now. I ran into an old friend last Sunday at our community bicycle event, Cyclovia. We had a great time biking around to the different venues. Her mom lives along the route, so we stopped to visit there as well. We went to the display and blind water tasting at Watershed Management Group, right near her mom’s home. We scored free tickets to a cocktails and cuisine event inspired by rainwater. We each get a free rainwater cocktail on Nov. 29. I look forward to that unique party. I think my friend’s mom may become a volunteer there too. It was a fun and educational exhibit. We biked on and ran into some bike cops who restored some of my faith in authority. They were joking around and having fun with the crowd. This is the kind of community event that unites all ages and walks of life to have a good time meeting each other. If you ask me, that is intelligent. We could use some bigger doses of this kind of intelligence.
Good luck to all coffee sharers surviving this next week. I look forward to hearing what is happening where you live. Check in with Diana to keep up with the coffeeesharing. Join us by writing a post, or just leaving your 2 cents. What is up with you, gentle reader?
We are being swept away by strong currents of blame and hatred projected onto others. There is a pendulum of possibility swinging from reality to unreality. We treat this as if our perception at any given time is good, and all other positions are evil. This leads us all into delusional thinking. Everything is the fault of the beings on the other side of the swiftly flowing river of anger that divides us. The blame game has been elevated to epic proportions while our social fabric has been torn. Collective invisible enemies are everywhere, like Pokemon. I believe we all contribute to this dangerous state of affairs. The very belief that some other entity is responsible for our problems is at the root of all our problems. We the people are the problem as well as the solution.
The politicians use the phrase reaching across the aisle to say they compromise. The rhetoric has become so toxic and harmful to our mood that general malaise has turned to a much more confrontational tone. To say this election cycle has robbed the entire nation of happiness in 2016 is an understatement. It has been detrimental to confidence in our government, both at home and abroad. Our image is tarnished. Our belief in our own ability to cooperate is diminished to the point of hopelessness. We the people are sick and tired of politics, ignoring the fact that we ARE politics.
Please vote, then devote your own personal energy into understanding “the other side”, whatever that may be for you. Our codependent lifestyle, in which we all want everyone else to be different while we stay the same, is unsustainable. We must find unity or drown in this violently churning whitewater of wild schemes and devises. Some think we are at the end of days. Revelation 9:5
And they were not permitted to kill anyone, but to torment for five months; and their torment was like the torment of a scorpion when it stings a man.
We have been tormented to the point of madness. Let the stings of hateful mud slinging cease. Let us find peace. We are officially hitting rock bottom in this democracy. We must have a bounce from this awful experience. This is a sink or swim moment for us. We are all relieved about the end of the election cycle, but nobody is particularly thrilled about the outcome, whatever it may be. We all create this mess with our thoughts, beliefs, and actions.
The French writer Jean-Paul Sartre was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature on 22 October, 1964. He refused to accept the honor, as he had done with all honors in the past. He wrote a detailed letter to the jury in Stockholm that arrived after they had confirmed his prize. He listed personal reasons as well as objective reasons. He basically thought writers should write without any undue influence from any institution. In his own words:
“The writer who accepts an honour of this kind involves as well as himself the association or institution which has honoured him,” he said at the time. “The writer must therefore refuse to let himself be transformed into an institution, even if this occurs under the most honourable circumstances, as in the present case.”
This existential Frenchman was the only literature laureate to refuse the honor until now. It appress that Bob Dylan has not returned the calls of the esteemed Swedish Academy since he was awarded the same prize. Today he erased a mention of the prestigious prize from his website. It appears that our famous existential poet is declining and going one step beyond his predecessor by making no comment on the matter. I think this is a perfect response from this rebel recluse who does exactly as he pleases. He can well afford, like Mr Sartre before him, to rest on his hefty laurels.
This refreshing point of view on celebrity is blowin’ in the wind when the celebration of celebrities has become a full blown obsession. Reality television and I don’t know what else, has brought us to worship fame for itself in the weirdest ways. I have been listening to Bob’s music almost non stop this week, rediscovering the genius of his impressive timeless lyrics. I have seen him perform three times, and am mighty glad I got that opportunity. He is our troubadour, and he don’t need no stinking prizes. I am highly amused at his attitude. What do you think, gentle reader? He may still decide to show up at the ceremony.
Our political process in America has never been such a shocking reality show. The whole world is tuning in while we use the presidential election of 2016 to display our worst national attributes in public. Sexism has reared its ugly head and is parading around as if it were the only important issue we have to consider. It is paramount to perceive how much of our own thought processes are controlled by outside forces. Both men and women are subject to our inherited stereotypes. We may also carry deep prejudice about foreign cultures, races, or religions about which we have no direct knowledge. These oversimplifications of society’s condition harm everyone. The fact that a woman is running against a man has engendered some kind of cartoon version of public consternation, indignation, and unacceptable conduct by almost everyone.
I propose that we take a step back and see our personal situation as an integral part of a much larger scheme. People everywhere vote because of their feelings about their own economic future. This is not strange. It is survival instinct. In times of dramatic change and disruption dysfunctional systems must give way to new ideas for the survival of the entire environment. Civil rights were first won by serfs who existed as chattel to nobility. The hard fought war against tyranny will not be won in physical battle, but in hearts and minds. Terrorism begins at home, in the angry hearts and minds of indignant citizens. By imagining evil enemies everywhere we maintain a militant mindset that does not foster peace.
In ancient Greece Aristophanes wrote a comedy about women and war. The heroine, Lysistrata proposed that women take over the treasury, since the old men had squandered all the funds:
“What matters that I was born a woman, if I can cure your misfortunes? I pay my share of tolls and taxes, by giving men to the State. But you, you miserable greybeards, you contribute nothing to the public charges; on the contrary, you have wasted the treasure of our forefathers, as it was called, the treasure amassed in the days of the Persian Wars. You pay nothing at all in return; and into the bargain you endanger our lives and liberties by your mistakes. Have you one word to say for yourselves?… Ah! don’t irritate me, you there, or I’ll lay my slipper across your jaws; and it’s pretty heavy.”
The men were duly concerned:
“Chorus of old men: If we give them the least hold over us, ’tis all up! their audacity will know no bounds! We shall see them building ships, and fighting sea-fights like Artemisia; nay if they want to mount and ride as cavalry, we had best cashier the knights, for indeed women excel in riding, and have a fine, firm seat for the gallop. Just think of all those squadrons of Amazons Micon has painted for us engaged in hand-to-hand combat with men.”
― Aristophanes, Lysistrata
I think we are once again at a pivotal point in history. Equality will serve as the only kind of chivalry we can afford to accept. What do you think, gentle reader?
I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania in the 1950’s. We were a suburb of Pittsburgh, but had a very fancy golf club to distinguish our borough from all others—The Oakmont Country Club. Membership in this much sought after institution was costly as well as tricky to obtain. The members generally lived on top of the hill, near the club, in the neighborhoods developed for them. I lived near the Oakmont Country Club but my parents did not play golf or care about the snob appeal. This infuriated me because rather than walk to the swimming pool I had to wait for a ride to the Alcoma Country Club where our family belonged. Alcoma was less expensive, but still had all the country club trimmings. I was invited frequently to the Oakmont club pool with my member friends and neighbors, and never lost my desire to join. I believe I was absorbing not so subtle messages about social and financial status. I would have said it was because I wanted to walk to the pool, but I am sure I also desired the status that accompanied belonging to the fancier of the two country clubs. Today I have chosen the fancy, clean, multi functional Tucson JCC over the Tucson Racquet Club, even though Silver Sneakers provides free membership in both for me now. I do always prefer an upgrade if I can afford one. Perhaps it is all because of my upbringing.
Our town was on a hill, with a steel mill and barges full of coal floating down the Allegheny River at the bottom. The area by the river was dedicated to industry and commerce, with small working class homes scattered into the mix. Ascending the hill, the houses became larger and more elaborate. The streets were numbered from 1 to 14 climbing the hill. I lived on Tenth Street. One could almost tell by the address in our town how much money the family had. I lived in the upper middle category of housing, but very close to my home was a row of mansions belonging to robber barons. These super wealthy neighbors provided all manner of recreation for the kids in the area, including a trampoline, a very large field for sledding, and some woods for exploring. The mansion kids all went to public school and were part of our regular play group as youngsters. Still, we were aware that their parents were not in the same financial league with ours.
My parents put their own status emphasis on appearances. The wardrobe and/or landscaping needs of those two consumed most of their free time. They spared no expense on the clothes they wore and their precious yard. My mom was active in a garden club, and my dad just naturally loved to mow his lawn in his coveralls. They were a 50’s cartoon of suburban pride of ownership. I had to play along, helping with the yard work and dressing up to go to the country club, the University Club downtown, their friends’ homes, or to travel. I was also costumed to the hilt for the many parties they held at our house. I was fine with it up to a point, or up until I decided to have my own taste in fashion. When I was over the white gloves and the little white ankle socks I waged a war on fascist control over my wardrobe. My parents bemoaned my fate and warned against a hellish life ahead unless I started to want to dress more like they did. Life would never smile on me again without those white ankle socks. This was the beginning of our political differences. They were appalled to think I did not want a life like their life. How silly of them. I could not have a life like theirs because I was born in another generation with another set of circumstances, yet to be discovered. All we knew was that my white ankle socks would not be part of that future reality.
Today I am pleased to say that I understand that attachment or revulsion to any kind of status can only end in heartache. Possessions, titles, offices, locations, are just data dust in the true meaning of life. If we come to identify too greatly on the situation, how will we cope when the situation changes? My parents had their own giant cultural revolutions to endure. They came from the south, but spent many years freezing their bones in Pennsylvania because it furthered my father’s career with Gulf Oil Corporation. I learned by direct experience to stay aloof from judging circumstances. Nothing is ever a simple as it seems. There are generations of beliefs and traditions at play in every moment. Learning to define one’s own status rules and symbols is perhaps our essential role on earth.
I watch the political scene today go wildly off the rails with wonder. The United States has become very distracted by our own self image. The will to shun has outweighed the will to live in this country in peace. The electorate is behaving badly. Law and order is threatened. The fabric of society is frayed and damaged. Public faith in institutions is understandably at an all time low. As a nation divided we stand ready to implode if we can’t get a grip on the difference between rhetorical status and reality. Politics maintains status …quo or otherwise. Mother Nature maintains reality…harmonious or otherwise. It is time to strip away the political aims of these two parties and look directly into the soul of the tax paying nation. What did you learn from your childhood that influences your views today, gentle reader? Were they positive or negative? Do you belong to the same party as your parents?
Our era in history may become known as the time of willful blindness. We have access to information from all over the world instantly, but people prefer to keep blind spots in place to protect status quo. As individuals and as institutions we choose to stay in the dark because we either have no confidence in evolution and change, or we may benefit from the circumstances as they stand.
Can you think of an example of willful blindness that has played havoc with your life? Can you remember choosing to stay blind yourself rather than standing up for the truth? I am pretty sure all of us have stood on both sides of this line. The saddest reason for staying willfully blind is a belief that one person can not change the course of history. The desire to be ignorant is more dangerous than we might want to believe.
For those of you who do not know what mansplaining is, you may be inadvertently doing it. You may also be a victim of it. Not all mansplaining is done by men, unfortunately. This powerful force in society is spreading like wildfire. The comedy of it is hilarious, but the reality is disconcerting. It plays out in the political campaign, naturally. It also plays out when any woman has interactions with the government. Our government has completely embraced the custom of condescending to citizens who want functional systems. We pay for everything these public “servants” do, but they live in a highly insular world where it is perfectly acceptable to sit around and mansplain to each other. The #squadgoals seem to be ignorance and sexist bliss.
If mansplaining does not work it is usually followed by some gaslighting. This is a practice of indicating that a woman must be out of her mind to be the way she is. This is a more sinister form of mansplain, just more extreme. Here in Tucson I reported the same egregious crimes to the Tucson Police Department for a decade, always being told that the crimes were not crimes at all, but civil matters. I persisted because the crimes seriously effect everyone in my neighborhood. Groups of neighbors, both male and female, petitioned to stop the crimes for years to no avail. The situation had been totally mansplained internally, so we could get no law enforcement help. Finally this year a cop came out in person to mansplain to me why the fake neighborhood watch to promote crime and willful blindness in our neighborhood was serving and protecting us. He informed me that he is the law, as if a person could be the law. When I did not accept this concept he came back the next day to gaslight me with the mental health division of the TPD. After passing my mental exam they just decided to pretend that I did not exist, which after all, is the goal of both mansplaining and gaslighting.
This disastrous plague needs to be exposed as well as eradicated. Everyone’s justice is compromised by this common practice. Have you had experience with mansplaining or gas lighting, gentle reader? Do tell.
I have a solid memory of the morning of September 11, 2001. My father called me on the phone and told me the Pentagon had just been hit. I said “It’s just a Pentagon.” Then I turned on the TV news, and to my horror, learned about the tragic events that had taken place while I was rocking and rolling around my house, blissfully unaware. Those of us who were alive when JFK was shot all had a spooky feeling that this terror was all connected. The axis of evil had landed on our shores, and nothing would ever be the same. We lost our innocence, and many of us also lost our minds.
The first responders, and their sacrifices, came into focus like never before in modern history. The risks and the losses they take every day started to hit home in the hearts and minds of American citizens. Many folks joined the military because they felt the need to do something to protect our country. We got a Department of Homeland Security and the borders started getting way tighter. I was well aware of the border phenomena because I was working as a wetback gringa in Mexico at the time. Suddenly the Tecate border crossing, which had always been almost a joke border, became very strict. This clogged up the traffic, which would back up for blocks in Tecate, BC, waiting to cross. There were people who would wait in the line for you for a fee, and those people had all the work they wanted. Since I was a guest instructor, spending only a couple of weeks at time down there, the border issue really put a wet blanket on my commute. I had to drive 6 hours from Tucson, which I had accepted. I just could not handle waiting an hour in bumper to bumper traffic while waiting to leave the country. I determined after a couple of years that Mexico, lindo y querido, was no longer fun for me. I have not crossed the border since 2003. I have not seen the border wall, and I may never see it.
Things changed for the worse in Mexico because all kinds of people who had walked to the border from Guatemala, Chiapas, or Nicaragua were stuck. They had few options. The criminal element suddenly had a huge influx of desperate people to employ, a boon to smuggling and anything else they cared to do. They probably started digging new tunnels all over the place with their new source of labor. Our tiny town of TKT (the local way to spell Tecate) went from safe to wildly violent overnight. One of my Mexican colleagues came in to work all freaked out because she had discovered her boyfriend, chopped up in the trunk of a car. We went from zero to chopped up in the trunk of a car in no time. It was no longer safe for me to ride the public bus to Tijuana, use the route taxis to go to to the beach , or generally live it up in borderlandia. The party was over, but it had been very good while it lasted.
Now we mark the date with remembrance of the solemn occasion. I am afraid that the meaning is being lost. People are using it to sell merchandise, which really offends me. We all lost something on that day. I lost a country and a culture that I loved dearly. I mean Mexico when I say that, but in many ways my own country endured a cultural change from which we will not recover. What did you personally lose, gentle reader?
Loss of dignity at the mattress store
The phrase quid pro quo literally means something for something in Latin. When it was first used in the English language it referred to substitution of one medicine for another. The apothecary who switched the patient’s remedy for another one may have acted out of ignorance, or may have done so intentionally. Fraud may be involved in a quid pro quo arrangement, but it is not necessarily mendacious or premeditated. It merely suggests an exchange. There are plenty of beneficial exchanges and trades, so why does this term sound so creepy and illicit?
The usage extended from the pharmacy into legal matters. In this case the exchange of one thing for another may be used for favors, appropriate or inappropriate. Now it is common to use this phrase when we suspect some kind of financial hanky panky that smells like an illegal deal. Ponzi schemes and predatory lending might fall into this category. The Clinton Foundation has been in the news recently for possibly giving favors for donations. The issue is in the intent of both givers. If they both intend to evade the law through the trade, they may be acting criminally. I am sure this is hard to prove in court, but it is done all the time, nonetheless.
In personal business we have quid pro quo understandings with bosses, landlords, colleagues, and clients. It is good to examine them carefully to be sure that you have not entered an agreement that you can’t or don’t want to fulfill. There are both written and unwritten contracts that bind people. Healthy happy something for something trades are good for the community. Can you think of both good and bad examples from your past? If you are a good judge of character (caveat emptor) and value you can make sure you get a fair deal. Pay attention to the deals you make, gentle reader, and what you accept in trade.
The myth of Pandora is a Greek creation story. Zeus ordered Hephaestus (blacksmith of the gods) to make the first woman. He did this using water and earth. Her name means all gifted because various gods gifted her with talents. She was married to Epimethius as a major prank. She was designed to punish disobedient humans. She was irresistible. She arrived with a box which was not to be opened. We know the part of the story in which she does open the box and evil and suffering escapes. In fact, evil runs rampant on earth as a result of Pandora’s weakness of curiosity. She has something in common with Eve, the first woman who just had to try the forbidden fruit in the garden.
When Pandora sees that she has released illness and evil on the earth she attempts to close the box quickly. In the original story she came with a jar (pithos). Later translations from the Greek changed the jar to a box. Either way, she managed to close the container with hope trapped inside. I feel this myth is pertinent to our world situation today. The evil, the misery, the illness has been released into our atmosphere. It is swirling all around us everywhere. Hope is often obscured, as if it is enclosed in some secret vessel.