Could it be that we are what we do consistently.
And what is it that we do consistently? As a tool for transformation, I suggest consistent reflection of self and society. What have you been bitching about? When people are gathering at the bar, in the grocery line, or at a political meeting: what issues are they talking about? What headlines really grab you to where you sit up and say: someone should really do something about that.
After a week or a month or whenever you get a chance, review your journal of observations and reflectoions on issues of concern. Map out a sphere of influence and ask yourself what about this issue impacts my day to day life. What impacts my long term survivial.
Consdier who you might talk to about this concern: who shares your concern and who does not. Who out there in the world could help you.
Isolate a plan of action for those issues of concern.
What can be done.
What will I need to do it.
TO READ/THINK MORE:
Activism: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_activist
Exploring Concepts of Personal Change and Political Activism: http://arts.anu.edu.au/sss/west/mc.html
Blog on Spiritual Activism: http://whispy.com/community/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=287
Note: What is the self, who are we, and why should we be good to one another? It is difficult to make laws without justification, but that means we need more listening and more dialogue and more SYNTHESIS of ideas, not the legislation of religion. Spirituality is a term I use to address the sense of connectedness and a way of cultivating myself (and others) into a way of compassion.
It is difficult to tease out issues of self, meaning, and to do so in a way that is thoughtful or at least thought-provoking and not one that shuts people down and closes them off or demands that they convert!
For more on the topic please see this web page and discussion board made by my dear friends at ASU, the SECULAR FREETHOUGHT SOCIETY : http://www.asu.edu/clubs/secular/
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Monuments
I've been to two kinds of funerals. Some were for those who brought us stability.
Such a funeral is a stately progression of somber faces, each person contemplative of the world the survivors have found themselves in. Sometimes this contemplation is personal, sometimes it is political, but it is always private. It is a hallowed, neutral ground, on which a gathering convenes in the spirit of "there, but for the grace of God, go I." It is a time for understanding and embracing continuity and balance, of considering the moments spent with the deceased, and the memories of them we carry forward. It is a celebration of tradition, of family, and of the culture in which we live. A quiet celebration, but one dedicated to continuity, and the hope that when our time comes, the voices that speak of us in remembrance are kind. It is fundamentally political; it is a monument to the status quo.
Then there are the funerals for those whose lives brought us change.
It is also a celebration of continuity, but on a much more personal scale. It is an expression of grief, but also of hope. Hope that the strength and power of the fallen may be borne with honor by the living. It is a time of reckoning; a time we ask what works have been accomplished, and what remains to be done. A time where we ask ourselves "what should we do," and realize that she will not be there to help answer for us; we must now answer this question for ourselves. A time where we look back to the life of the one who has passed for our answers. Even as we mourn the stillness that once was her living voice, we raise our own, and find our own strength in the expression of the passion that she raised in us. It is a funeral not to honor the continuity in which she lived, but the vision of hope that she moved us towards, despite tragedy and horrible loss. It is where we renew our faith in what the departed taught us. It is fundamentally personal; it is a monument to the human being.
Think about Coretta Scott King; think about her acts, her beliefs, and her legacy. Put aside all else, save her.
Now tell me, which monument did she deserve?
Such a funeral is a stately progression of somber faces, each person contemplative of the world the survivors have found themselves in. Sometimes this contemplation is personal, sometimes it is political, but it is always private. It is a hallowed, neutral ground, on which a gathering convenes in the spirit of "there, but for the grace of God, go I." It is a time for understanding and embracing continuity and balance, of considering the moments spent with the deceased, and the memories of them we carry forward. It is a celebration of tradition, of family, and of the culture in which we live. A quiet celebration, but one dedicated to continuity, and the hope that when our time comes, the voices that speak of us in remembrance are kind. It is fundamentally political; it is a monument to the status quo.
Then there are the funerals for those whose lives brought us change.
It is also a celebration of continuity, but on a much more personal scale. It is an expression of grief, but also of hope. Hope that the strength and power of the fallen may be borne with honor by the living. It is a time of reckoning; a time we ask what works have been accomplished, and what remains to be done. A time where we ask ourselves "what should we do," and realize that she will not be there to help answer for us; we must now answer this question for ourselves. A time where we look back to the life of the one who has passed for our answers. Even as we mourn the stillness that once was her living voice, we raise our own, and find our own strength in the expression of the passion that she raised in us. It is a funeral not to honor the continuity in which she lived, but the vision of hope that she moved us towards, despite tragedy and horrible loss. It is where we renew our faith in what the departed taught us. It is fundamentally personal; it is a monument to the human being.
Think about Coretta Scott King; think about her acts, her beliefs, and her legacy. Put aside all else, save her.
Now tell me, which monument did she deserve?
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