There are always kids playing in our street. Very big difference from living in the Tenderloin, where children are caged up in fenced urban playgrounds. Today I was taking my camera out for a spin before sunset and these guys were all like, “IT’S PICTURE DAY!!!!” I obligingly took some photos and tried to display them on my tiny screen (this bored them almost instantly), and then felt awkward when they resumed their (very normal) punching games. Do I tell them to stop, or just let them do what kids do? I’m telling you, the pressures of social construction in childrearing are way too much for me. (And I’m only half joking.)
To clarify, he is holding her there to be punched, not protecting her
Incredible image of Brooklyn Ballet, (c)2005 by Lois Greenfield bikes on the landing
Being sick for over a week means I’m way behind on work, so today’s post is just a tiny glimmer of an idea. Lately I’ve been thinking about choreography as it relates to political action. Now that EBSol is underway, I’ll be participating in the planning of collective direct actions — hopefully for the next year or two. Thinking about this planning as choreography is helping to uplift and inspire me to think creatively.
How can we employ different sounds, smells, textures, and movements into our actions? How can we use space creatively? How can we create productive tension among multiple people in a space?
Not all actions will involve explicit audiences to choreograph for: we’ll be doing our share of postering, flyering, and letter delivery. But even in these simpler actions, are there ways we can bring color and intentional physical movement?
I’m reminded of Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche’s advice about the garb of a warrior:
For the warrior, clothing actually provides an armor of discipline, which wards off attacks from the setting-sun world. It is not that you hide behind your clothes because you are afraid to manifest yourself as a good warrior, but rather that when you wear good, well-fit clothes, your clothing can both ward off casualness and invite tremendous dignity.
Sometimes if your clothes fit you well, you feel that they are too tight. If you dress up, you may feel constricted by wearing a necktie or a suit or a tight fitting skirt or dress. The idea of invoking internal drala [energy beyond aggression inside oneself] is not to give in to the allure of casualness. The occasional irritation coming from your neck, the crotch of your pants, or your waist is usually a good sign. It means that your clothes fit you well, but your neurosis doesn’t fit your clothes. The modern approach is often free and casual. That is the attraction of polyester leisure suits. You feel stiff if you are dressed up. You are tempted to take off your tie or your jacket or your shoes. Then you can hang out and put your feet up on the table and act freely, hoping that your mind will act freely at the same time. But at that point your mind begins to dribble. It begins to leak, and garbage of all kinds comes out of your mind. That version of relaxation does not provide real freedom at all. Therefore, for the warrior, wearing well-fit clothing is regarded as wearing a suit of armor. How you dress can actually invoke upliftedness and grace.
I also remember reading, somewhere, from someone, an invitation to move through the world as though we were exploring a spectacular golden palace. This sense of awe and decorum, of self-awareness that helps us relate to the external world, rather than getting caught up in our own worries. Golden palaces may not exactly be my thing, but I know what they’re getting at. Bringing some air of ceremony, some sense of choreography, can help us engage more deeply with our everyday actions — with people, places, beings, and inanimate objects.
Just thoughts. I’m a believer that political action should be fun and mindful, you know? So we’ll see.
Meanwhile, the weather outside is blowing my mind. Didn’t think they made days like this anymore. Happy Wednesday, everyone!
cars in the yardryan makes asparagusMr. Posie takes a rest from weed-whacking near his collard greens
Still sick as a dog, folks, so I’m letting Bessie take over for me today. Found this gem through the James Baldwin essay I mentioned Wednesday. Just amazing. I love the way she draws out her first “You can’t trust Noooooooo-body/ You might as well be alone.”
LONG OLD ROAD
Bessie Smith 1931
Bessie Smith rec June 11th 1931 New York
It's a long old road, but I'm gonna find the end,
It's a long old road, but I'm gonna find the end,
And when I get there, I'm gonna shake hands with a friend.
On the side of the road,I sat underneath a tree,
On the side of the road,I sat underneath a tree,
Nobody knows a thought that came over me.
Weepin' and cryin', tears fallin'on the ground,
Weepin' and cryin', tears fallin'on the ground,
When I got to the end, I was so worried down.
Picked up my bag, baby, and I tried again,
Picked up my bag, baby, and I tried again,
I got to make it, I've got to find the end!
You can't trust nobody, you might as well be alone,
You can't trust nobody, you might as well be alone,
Found my long lost friend, and I might as well stayed at home!
[Lyrics from lyricsplayground.com]
(Contributed by Peter Akers - May 2009)
Speaking of the blues, in a way: have you ever had a very hideous umbrella? Not as a backup in the closet but I mean like your main public umbrella. Currently I’m saddled with one. i can imagine equally ugly models, but none uglier. it’s large and striped like a circus tent, yellow and white. the yellow isn’t a pretty saffron or gold, but like this really awful chemical lemon-drop yellow. the fabric is also torn off the spokes in one or two places. anyway, the reason i bring this up is that thursday morning i had a revelation about my very hideous public umbrella. before now, the two qualities counting in its favor were (a) that it was free, and a gift from my dad: i think he gave it to me one day when i was unprotected; and (b) that it is big: i think it was originally a golf umbrella, possibly one of the freebies they give you at the end of a swanky tournament (but not too swanky, i guess, since this one doesn’t have any sort of country club logo printed on it).
Random ugly umbrella on flickr; mine not shown. Would you be able to lose this? Didn't think so.
yesterday, however, i realized that the ugliness itself is also an advantage. because, like so many of us, i’ve lost uncountable umbrellas in my lifetime. uncountable. small, shitty ones; big, precious ones. but this guy i’ve hung onto longer than usual. why? precisely because i’m embarrassed about its hideousness. wherever i go, when i set my huge, janky, chemical lemon-drop umbrella on the floor, i remain mildly self-conscious about it the whole time. so i never forget to bring it with me when i leave.
has the Hideous Umbrella CurseBlessing ever happened to you? what do you think of my theory?
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Finally, I leave you on an exciting note about fresh news to come on Monday: I’ll be reporting back from the first action of the new East Bay Solidarity Network that I helped to start up with four friends. We’re taking on a case of a comrade of ours who was unscrupulously fired from his live-in job, and summarily kicked out into homelessness. Next week, the fightback begins! I can’t share more details now because the action has to be a secret reveal, but I am suuuuper pumped about getting this production rolling. Already the organizing feels so solid and healthy with this quality team, based on the excellent, proven “recipe” for solidarity networks that comes out of the Seattle Solidarity Network, or SeaSol. It’s compassionate action with people power to back it up. I’m about to learn a TON through this project, and can’t wait to share it with y’all as it unfolds.
SeaSol logo, links to nifty web site
One note: since EBSol needs to get some more groundwork in place before our grand opening in mid-April, we’re not yet having open invitations to meetings or actions. But we will in a couple of weeks! So if you’re in the East Bay and want to help neighbors win stuggles against bosses and landlords, definitely hit me up and we’ll get you into our contact list!
love, solidarity, and no hugs for the moment due to unending nasal drippery,
I guess it is a great blessing that being sick makes a person seem grimy and messy — hacking, sneezing, all glassy-eyed, sweaty, and weak — because if it made us more beautiful, radiant, and appealing, then lots of people would flock to us and be consequently infected.
So here I am, nice and off-putting with my wet cough, taking the opportunity to read. I even get to read aloud to myself. The James Baldwin was great for that, as was the first response letter from my faculty adviser at Goddard. (She’s a poet, and shows it in her prose.)
So here are some of the highlights of what I’ve been up to, text-wise.
Similarly catching up with Maia Duerr’s thoughts, and skillful curating of other people’s thoughts, on socially engaged Buddhism over at The Jizo Chronicles
Getting down with the fabulous blog of a friend in Seattle — thorough, meaty posts on feminism and revolutionary organizing — from their perspective as a political organizer and exploited (to be redundant) Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA). Especially loved this post, and this page.
Falling in love with James Baldwin all over again through his 1964 essay Nothing Personal, recommended to me by my adviser. I don’t agree with him on everything, but damn he’s not afraid to get deep with it.
Following updates on the Berkeley steel mill strike that started yesterday, when nearly 500 workers formed a hard picket line at Pacific Steel Casting to demand the reversal of company decisions that would force workers to cover their own health care costs. Sounds like they want reinforcements down there, so if anyone reading is in the area and less ill than I am, think about heading down there to support!
Ok, friends, time for a glass of water and another nap. Hope your Wednesday’s goin well.
Do any of y’all celebrate Pi day? π = 3.14 = March 14th! My high school math teachers were the first to introduce me to the holiday, which is honored by eating pie. Sign me up!
This morning I headed down the block to Lois The Pie Queen’s place and picked up a couple slices from the wonderfully warm folks there. Having just read my friend ChakaZ’s thoughtful, incisive piece touching on gentrification in Oakland (a process that often leads to the overthrow of pie queens, and the replacement of barbecue shacks with fancy coffeeshops), it was even more gratifying to support a Black-owned, Black-cultural business that’s been in the neighborhood — and in their family — for 50 years. And clearly not, might I add, as a gimmicky “exotic Southern food for upscale whites” kind of establishment, but as a low-key, proud-yet-humble, neighborly sort of place.
Image from Sweet Mary
In addition to the beauty above, I also got a piece of banana cream, but a bumpy ride on the bus left it unfit for open-casket photos.
Later in the day, being unable to finish both slices by myself, I would leave the leftover banana cream in its takeout pod in a big paper bag, hidden conspicuously behind a bush in Berkeley. Fortunately, my hopes were realized: a man named Terry found and enjoyed what remained of the treat. Unfortunately, I know that Terry found and enjoyed it because Terry also found my cell phone, which I forgot inside the paper bag.
I must have had some good karma on my side, though, because Terry seems like a really nice guy. Tomorrow we’ve arranged a hand-off for the mobile. I think I’ll bring him another slice from Lois’. He was really wild about that banana cream.
Hey friends — sorry for such a late post today! It’s been a whirlwind. Morning tea with a dharma/movement kindred spirit (a revival of Radical Sangha is in the works!); a super-intense two-and-a-half-hour group session with a generative somatics facilitator/counselor/consultant/rad person at the Faithful Fools; being interviewed by someone who’s making a video documentary about the Fools; and now off to prep some work with the Marxist feminist group in honor of International Women’s Day tomorrow.
Life: it’s full sometimes! And I was in a similar gear last Friday when, among other things, I showed up to join a crew of about 20 supporters of a rank-and-file picket of health care workers (above) who were illegally fired for going on strike. More on their inspiring (and victorious!) battle, including videos of Friday’s picket, here. Then, most of us supporters rolled out to a downtown Oakland rally against the gang injunctions. Here are some photos of each; sorry for the lack of commentary, but hopefully tomorrow I’ll have time to add a little more.
Yesterday morning, the street in our neighborhood where organizing saved a woman's house
What a week, folks. A week that included:
Going to a reading discussion about the League of Revolutionary Black Workers (the subject of Detroit: I Do Mind Dying), attended by two former League members (one of whom worked thirty years on an auto assembly line…..DAMN), still fiery and utterly inspiring
Flyer from a similar LRBW event
Huffing, puffing, and grinning up Berkeley hills on my gorgeous new bike
Feeling grateful for warm, dry, cozy home-shelter from the winter rain
Showing up with Ryan at a 6am anti-eviction action, a few blocks from our apartment, to find out that it had already won: once the media started contacting Wells Fargo for comment, they backed down (for now) from taking away this woman’s home
That’s it for me, folks. Hope your week was filled with ups, as well as downs — but most of all, spaciousness enough for both. See you Monday!
Friends, I’m gonna try an experiment. Rather than pour out a long story about today’s topic (non-monogamy and polyamory), I’m just going to give a brief thumbnail sketch — and we can see where the comment thread takes us.
As some of y’all may have noticed on Facebook, Ryan and I (with our Bad Good Romance) have been in an open relationship for over a year. In the past, when asked “What’s that all about,” I’ve explained that rather than a declaration about having other lovers, it’s more an expression of commitment to exploring our desires in a non-judgmental, loving, honest way that doesn’t assume monogamy is the best path to a healthy relationship — for us or for others.
A little more background on the situation is that I identify (and have for years) as someone with polyamorous tendencies. I can feel happy and fulfilled with multiple lovers at once. Also, I’m happy for my lovers when I know they’re enjoying sex and companionship with other people. (Note: this is only true when things between my lover and me are going well. If things between us are souring, then I typically feel super jealous of the other sweethearts in their life.)
Ryan, on the other hand, has always operated on the monogamous side of things. By this I mean: when he’s with a partner, he’s not interested in being with other lovers; and it’s painful to him to know that someone he loves, and who loves him, also wants to romance somebody else. At the same time, he’s deeply respectful and even admiring of polyamory, and investigates questions of (non)monogamy both through reading (like the classic “Poly Primer” [as make/shift’s crossword puzzle clue called it] The Ethical Slut, which Ryan had read even before we met) and by deeply reflecting on his own feelings, perceptions, and experiences.
Up til now, our difference in orientation hasn’t mattered much for us. But recently, one of my favorite former lovers (what one might call an “ex-boyfriend”) moved from the Midwest to Berkeley, a short ways from our house. After a rocky past and more than a year without seeing each other or really communicating at all, he and I now find ourselves spending time together. An entire afternoon last week; something like fourteen hours yesterday.
And so, Ryan and I have been doing a lot of processing. Each of us feels scared of limiting or hurting the other one. But we don’t want to break up, either. Not an easy place. We both agree that polyamory seems like a positive practice, a good way to live. But for people who naturally gravitate toward exclusive relationships, walking this new path ain’t easy — and may not ultimately be worth the hurt.
At the same time, the way we hold one another — mentally and physically — throughout these painful talks only underscores how much, and how well, we love each other. This is non-violent communication from the heart, organically: expressing pain, grief, fear and heartache without blaming; taking physical space and declining touch when we need to; listening; not escalating; acknowledging and validating each other; taking the time and space to do all this properly; being physically affectionate when we both feel ready; and committing to follow through on what we decide, together, as the best way to move forward.
In Buddhist parlance, we often encounter the word “interdependence.” It comes up in many contexts. One way I often hear it invoked (in dhammic as well as New-Agey spaces) is as a kind of feel-good spiritual brainteaser. Isn’t it amazing and beautiful how we are all connected?
Here’s a good example, from my own life. I was attending a conference about spirituality and technology: the Wisdom 2.0 Summit. One of the keynote speakers, Tony Hseih, CEO of the online retailer Zappos, gave a talk about the culture of happiness at his company, and how attention to the human connections between merchant and consumer fosters better, more lucrative business. The title of his book sums it up nicely: Delivering Happiness: A Path To Profits, Passion, and Purpose.
When it came time for Q&A, I raised my hand and got the mic (standing up, semi-terrified, before this large crowd of very successful techno-seekers). I thanked Tony for his work, and then asked what he thought — and what all of us present thought — about the happiness of the people who produce the technology we use. The people working in the factories that make our phones, our laptops, our desktops. The people mining the minerals for all of these. What about their happiness?
It’s all well and good to look at interdependence as a network for human kindness and beneficence. But the fact is, it is just as much (if not more) a network for exploitation: of humans, animals, and the earth.
In his newest book, The Boddhisattva’s Embrace: Dispatches from Engaged Buddhism’s Front Lines, Hozan Alan Senauke of the Clear View Project cuts to the core of exploitative interdependence in the conclusion of a beautiful essay on the shipbreaking industry in Bangladesh. Continue reading →
I’m not a baker, so this go-to cookie recipe fits my standards. Incredibly simple;* truly delicious. I tried to do it with rhubarb jam today, actually, but when I opened the jar there was a bit of mold inside. :( Next time!
I found this recipe about three years ago on The Post Punk Kitchen website, a great vegan cooking resource. But this morning when I went to look it up, it was gone.
PPK has apparently undergone a site overhaul since last I checked. Whereas before it was essentially just text (very, very useful text) on a dark red background with a few graphics, now it’s got a super-sexy layout loaded with stunning photos. Even though my beloved Jam Thumbprint page got lost along the way, I can’t say I’m sorry for the progress.
And luckily, there’s Gmail archive: I’d typed and e-mailed the recipe to some friends following rave cookie reviews at a potluck. Funny karma moment, huh? Sharing with others = preserving for oneself.
Enjoy!
JAM THUMBPRINT COOKIES
1 cup almonds
1 cup rolled oats or oat flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour or all-purpose flour
pinch sea salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup coconut , canola, olive or grapeseed oil. I like olive the best.
1/2 cup maple syrup
all-fruit jam (raspberry is nice, or blackberry…or some unusual berry!)
Preheat oven to 350 F. Lightly oil a cookie sheet.
Chop almonds into coarse meal. This can be done with a knife (which takes a long time and is messy) or in a food processor (or a blender, but a food processor is ideal) by pulsing a few times. For a chunkier cookie, grind the almonds only into small pieces.
Grind oats to flour in a small food processor, flour mill, or a blender. You can also use oat flour. For a chunkier cookie, don’t grind oats all the way.
Combine almonds, oats, flour, salt, and cinnamon.
In another bowl combine oil and maple syrup. Add to dry. Mix lightly.
Roll into walnut-sized balls. Place on an oiled cookie sheet. Press an indentation in the center with thumb.
Fill indentation with jam. Do not overfill, do not underfill. What you see is what you get, basically – the jam shouldn’t overflow too much when heated, and the cookies shouldn’t spread a lot, so you can pack them in pretty close together on the sheet.
Bake 15-20 minutes, or until bottoms are lightly browned. Cool 10 minutes.
*I should note: simple with a food processor. Which I now have at our new place. Thanks, mama! If you live near me and don’t have one I’d be happy to loan ours out.
Kloncke 