Keep the Flag Flying

Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

I created this image 10 years ago by merging two separate photos I had taken: an American flag at Ground Zero, the World Trade Center site; and the Rainbow Flag in the Castro District of San Francisco. This is what the flag of America should look like. This is what it does look like to me and many others.

I am afraid for this flag. It was a somewhat risky image 10 years ago in Tucson, AZ. Over the last decade, however, through the tireless efforts of so many Americans, it has become much more real, and a little less risky to fly. But very soon it could be torn down and trampled on again.

We must fight for our flag—we can't let the ignorant bigots do all the flag-waving. As Francis Scott Key wrote in the final stanza of our national anthem, "Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just…" This is the flag of justice.

Undaunted

Bana Alabed in Aleppo

I have good news and bad news. The good news is that Bana Alabed and her family might be evacuated from Aleppo. The bad news is that the rest of the innocents trapped in the hell of Aleppo might not be. In fact, innocents are now being murdered by Syrian government forces in execution-style shootings. As the UN puts it, the situation in Aleppo has become a "complete meltdown of humanity."

As I drink my organic, fair-trade coffee and put maple cream on my breakfast wrap, I melt down in my own way about the vast chasm between my life and the hell in Aleppo. James and I try to be globally conscious in everything we do, and we don't invest much in material comforts, but we're wealthy compared to our neighbors in Aleppo. We have food, water, electricity, an intact house with central heating, and—most of all—safety. My life has been so fortunate that I can't even imagine what it's like to have bombs raining down on my head, no food, family and friends killed in front of me. How do people survive that psychologically and spiritually, if they're fortunate enough to survive physically?

I wonder how refugees can resettle in a totally foreign land and manage to function. The human spirit is extremely resilient—it has to be or many of us would never make it through this life of hardship, trauma, and constant loss, no matter what your standard of living is. I've managed to keep going through childhood abuse, chronic severe depression, poverty and near homelessness caused by depression and PTSD preventing me from holding down a full-time job, and the traumatic losses of my mother and father who both died from strokes in their 70s. There have been many times I've come close to committing suicide, but I kept going through the ultimate despair. I have friends who currently persevere despite a traumatically ugly divorce and discovering pedophilia in their own family. How can they keep doing their jobs, and doing them well? How can they keep from giving up, from losing faith, under the pressure? My mind reels in the face of it.  

It should fill me with hope to see how well we can keep doing this thing called Life through almost any misery. My own fortitude should make me confident that humans can make it, survive the worst case scenarios, thrive in the throes of massive pain. But it still stuns me when I see others confronting evil with hope. 

Teaching English to refugees will be great training for me in the perseverance of the human spirit. As Helen Keller writes in Out of the Dark,

By learning the sufferings and burdens of men [sic], I became aware as never before of the life-power that has survived the forces of darkness—the power which, though never completely victorious, is continuously conquering. The very fact that we are still here carrying on the contest against the hosts of annihilation proves that on the whole the battle has gone for humanity. The world’s great heart has proved equal to the prodigious undertaking which God set it. Rebuffed, but always persevering; self-reproached, but ever regaining faith; undaunted, tenacious, the heart of man [sic] labors towards immeasurably distant goals. Discouraged not by difficulties without, or the anguish of ages within, the heart listens to a secret voice that whispers: “Be not dismayed; in the future lies the Promised Land.”

For a list of organizations providing help to the people of Aleppo, please see Syria in crisis: How you can help (SBS News, 13 Dec 2016).

Bana Alabed update

Bana Alabed tweeted this morning that they are still alive. Their house has been completely destroyed and they lost everything—but they didn't lose their lives. Keep praying!

Bana Alabed, November 29, 8:37 AM

Bana Alabed

Bana Alabed is a seven-year-old girl in Aleppo who, with the help of her mother, Fatemah, tweets regularly about their experience and circumstances there. With the latest surge of attacks, her situation has become dire. What follows are her most recent tweets so that you too can see the horror they are living in. Humanitarian aid is still not being allowed through, so there is no way we can help her in a concrete fashion. The best we can do right now is to pay attention, pray, and keep sharing her tweets so that more and more people can understand the reality of this war.

November 27, 8:22 AM

November 27, 8:44 AM

November 27, 3:15 PM

November 28, 3:09 AM

November 28, 8:13 AM

A Target on My Sleeve

There are so many things so wrong about "registering" Muslims in the US; Japanese Americans forced to live in internment camps here, Jews forced to wear yellow stars in Nazi Germany—are we supposed to believe these things are not the same?

My immediate thought was, "If Muslims are told to wear a star and crescent on their clothes, I'll wear one, too!"  Then I imagined myself actually going out in public with what amounts to a target on my sleeve and felt how truly frightening that would be.  How much courage will I find in myself when confronted with actual danger? Will it be enough?



(For further reading:  "Trump and a Muslim Registry" ~ Sabrina Saddiqui, The Guardian)

Thank you, Pope Francis

Catholic leader ready to help refugees settle in US despite Trump policy, (The Guardian, 18 November 2016)

All of the above

I challenged a customer today on his choice to vote for Trump (he brought it up). I have never been interested in engaging in political debate because it's just a waste of time and energy since none of us ever changes our mind. But I cannot let support of Trump go unchallenged. Neither of us changed our minds, of course, but we both had to put our beliefs out there on the table, put real words to them in the face of another who disagrees. One on one conversation, face to face. Not just a Facebook post.

Who we voted for in this election was not simply our opinion, or something to passively agree to disagree on. Trump has fomented misogyny, racism, xenophobia, religious intolerance, fear, and hatred throughout his campaign. He and what he espouses must be confronted.

It's really hard for me to: (a) stand up to confrontation; (b) speak off the cuff; and (c) say that someone else is wrong. But I have to learn how to do all of the above now, and all at once!  I expect I'll get lots of practice in the next few years.

WARNING: Disturbing images

I have been following the photographer Aris Messinis on Twitter as he documents and assists in rescue missions to save the thousands of refugees drifting and drowning in the Mediterranean Sea.  The numbers of people crushed into small boats is staggering. Smugglers are making mountains of money promising people safe transport to Europe, then abandoning them as soon as they reach international waters.

Messinis bears witness to the horrors desperate people suffer trying to find safety. Let no one say they are just too lazy or cowardly to stand up for themselves at home, or that they are terrorists invading our homes. Only someone with no other choice would sacrifice the little money they have and risk their lives to climb into a dinghy with a hundred other people to cross the open sea in blind hope of a better life. Of a life, period.

"Stepping on Bodies to Survive"

Senescence

My computer is 5 years old, or about 85 in computer years. Two weeks ago it wouldn't boot all the way.  So I took it into the shop. They wiped the hard drive and reinstalled it, without losing any data—wizardry! I brought it home and booted it up and started doing some work, and it slogged and lagged and moped and sometimes completed a task before hanging up. So I called the shop and they said to bring it in for another spell. To avoid massive anxiety over data loss, I made sure it backed itself up completely before taking it in. Two days, or 34 in computer days, later it has finally finished backing up.  Now I can take it back to the wizards who will probably tell me it needs a whole new hard drive, none of this wiping it and sending it home foolishness. I will say yes, fine, fix it, and they will charge me money, and my computer will return to me a shining new version of its former weary self. I hope.


It's November, we're all running a little slow these days…

A little bit louder now

This morning's liturgy and scripture readings inspired me to reopen my Facebook page, "Angels Unawares" to speak my understanding of the Gospel in response to the fearmongers. Rather than recoil from the hatred—one commenter hoped that I'll be raped by a "rapefugee"—I will answer every one with the Word.

My life is guided by two scripture passages in particular: "For what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8); and "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares" (Hebrews 13:2). These are my guiding commandments, both of which call me to give aid to those risking their lives to save their lives.

I hadn't expected this call to begin now, during my preparations to answer it. Apparently when you're called, you're called to immediate action! My work begins now, not in January.

It's my hope that those of you in support of welcoming the stranger will also comment on Angels Unawares so that my voice isn't the only one in opposition to the xenophobes. We need to speak up for our beliefs, join our voices together so the xenophobes don't carry the day. They aren't afraid to make a lot of noise—let's be louder than them!

(Shout) a little bit louder now… a little bit louder now… a little bit louder now…

You need the paperwork to make it official

I'M IN!

I just had my CELTA certificate interview, and I have been offered a place in the January 2017 online course! And if there aren't enough students to run that course (which rarely happens), I can just transfer to another one. The biggest hurdle in my path to helping forcibly displaced people learn English language skills has been cleared!

Now I just have to get the money together. As my mother always said when things looked financially impossible, "The Lord will provide." I'm trusting her on that one.

Tweets from Aleppo

If you have a Twitter account, follow @AlabedBana for a child's-eye view of life in Aleppo today. It's better than news reports for understanding the reality there. If you don't have a Twitter account, it's worth setting one up just for this.

Abundance living

I have deleted my Angels Unaware(s) Facebook page. All it was bringing in was hatemongering comments, and after having to read and respond or mostly just delete 5 or 6 of them every day, I decided it wasn't worth it. It was a good insight into how much ignorance there is out there about world events, and how self-protective many people are. Clearly our culture is founded on a belief in scarcity, so whatever one person or group gets means less for everyone else. I've been practicing a cosmology/theology of abundance for a couple of decades now and still frequently catch myself in scarcity mode. Capitalism is based on scarcity thinking, so it's really hard to free yourself from it if you've grown up in a capitalist society.

Scarcity thinking leads to feelings of fear, competition, and insularity--I must protect what I have, so I will fight off anyone who might take it away from me and push them outside my home boundary. And if you're near the bottom of the heap already, you'll fight all that much harder to keep what you have. Xenophobia, racism, bigotry are all results of scarcity thinking. "Why don't you take care of our own before throwing your money at refugees?" "If they'd stood up and fought for their country, they wouldn't be running away now! Why should we help them?" "I'm tired of my tax dollars being thrown away on people who aren't even from here." Those are the refrains I've heard repeated on every comment but one since I made my page public.

Abundance thinking allows generosity, compassion, and radical hospitality. You can share what you have with others because there is always more. It's a tough sell in these hard times, but I believe that it's true and that it's the only way to live fully. Living out of abundance requires community and trust--you have to share with each other, so you can't be a rugged individualist and live abundantly. You can't win and live abundantly. You can't be fearful and live abundantly.

When you think about it, abundance living should be easier than scarcity living. So much less stress and anxiety! Why do we choose anxiety over joy? Why is joy so hard to remember? Note to self: Remember joy. There is always more.

Aleppo, child's-eye view

https://twitter.com/alabedbana/status/789513577292001280

This is why

https://instagram.com/p/BLvn-5ChEvD/

Flashback

Boning up on my grammar—transitive vs. intransitive verbs; direct vs. indirect objects; predicate nominative (what the hell is that? I can never remember)—

I'm sitting in a desk in my junior English class, the smell of chalk, the teacher who used to be a nun until she fell in love with someone, who had great stories about getting in trouble in Catholic school—

Total flashback.

Facebook ad

I've never tried "boosting" my page on Facebook, but for 2 weeks of advertising for $14, why not give it a try?  Because—it's really hard for me to put myself out there and ask for money.  Financial dealings were considered distasteful in my family, and supporting yourself was paramount.  So to me, asking for financial help is both airing dirty laundry and failing to stand on my own two feet.  Double shampoo .  And add to that the stain of advertising… well, I'm having to swallow A LOT of pride!

Shame and pride are like the A and B sides of my inner 45rpm—same record, different songs.  Advertising my fundraising campaign on Facebook is spinning both sides at once, a tangle of noise that makes it hard to hear.  Herman Hesse writes in Siddhartha,

And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world. All of them together was the stream of events, the music of life.

The shame and the pride are the music of my life, I guess.  The more I practice singing a new song, the more the old ones fade out.  Again, Herman Hesse:

We are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps.

Or, in my case, sung many songs. And boosted my Facebook page.

Welcome to Sumac Road

I began my blog Cumulus over 10 years ago during a time of deep change. The past 10 years have seen that change take root, and now I feel it is time to move on to a new presence online. Cumulus will still be available if you want to take a look—there are LOTS of photos from the past 10 years, including travels in London and Istanbul, so check it out sometime, maybe.

This blog, Sumac Road, will be primarily a journal of my pursuit of a Certificate in English Language Training to Adults (or CELTA), followed by my experiences welcoming strangers to our land, getting to know them, and helping them establish a new home here. I expect it will be a journey full of challenges, surprises, and hopefully laughter amidst the grief of forced emigration. My ultimate goal is to use music and art and poetry to provide a place for newcomers to create their own beauty, to find themselves here, to share themselves with us in those places of fear, despair, hope, and joy.