I recently met with a young person who was suffering. That meeting left me thinking about how, when we are young, it is so easy for life to leave us in despair. Not that we don’t hurt later; maybe it’s just that when we are young our hopes and expectations are fresh, and, when we are disappointed or betrayed, we feel it keenly. Pain may seem unbearable then. Continue reading
The last few days I’ve been deep in conversation with some folks who are determined to challenge the city’s development plans, plans that threaten to undermine the lives of many in our lovely south end, and perhaps displace the hundreds of artists who have studios there. Out of these conversations has arisen, for me, an intense awareness of the lack context that surrounds such battles. Continue reading
I have been writing about the conference from the position of one who, although having performed Playback for many years, has attended only two Playback conferences, this being the first truly international one. In contrast, many of those who attended had attended several conferences, and friendships among them may go back scores of years. In writing about the conference I have attempted to listen, and to give voice to a range of beliefs and attitudes. Still, the writing is based squarely in my own experience and thought, and reflects my experience.
There are many forces at play in any international gathering, especially when social change is on the agenda, and this conference was no exception. On the last day of the conference, as so often happens, some of the deep conversations that had alluded us as a group began to take place. Continue reading
Montreal was hazy, a thin layer of smoke hung over the city. Tens of thousands of aces of forest were ablaze in northern Canada, and the smoke from those fires rode the westerlies to Montreal. Some days were worse than others, resulting in hacking coughs and burning eyes.
At the conference, this haze was a thread running through the fabric of our days. The unofficial theme of the second day was life at the intersection of identity and social justice; many stories were shared, narratives echoing older, sometimes archetypical stories, yet vibrantly alive in the present. We were reminded that we embody ancient human concerns, desires, and aspirations, that we are, somehow, walking in the footsteps of the Holy Ones. Continue reading
The July 4th holiday has past, last night’s fireworks following a torrent of rain from an impressive thunderstorm. For a few days I have been thinking about the strange, or perhaps, not so strange, tension July 4th holds for me. My parents, as far as I know, did not face the holiday with the same discomfort, my father, in particular, taking great pride in his thirty years of military service.
I’ve been puzzling over what it is, exactly, that I find so discomforting. Perhaps I am most concerned by what is absent from the day: the simple fact that the colonists were as motivated by a desire to take more Native land as by their frustration with British taxes. The founding fathers greatly disliked any constraints on westward expansion. Soon after independence, Thomas Jefferson began the militarized acquisition of Native lands. He envisioned an ever-growing America, but needed a constant supply of “empty” land to fuel his dream. Later, Andrew Jackson would follow his lead, ignoring the Supreme Court to carry out the forced dislocation of most of the Native people of the Southeast. I wonder how the ceremonies and other activities that mark the 4th would be different if they included conversations about this history. Continue reading
Over the past few days I’ve found myself in several conversations about the interweaving of the experience of being other, creativity, and social issues. These discussions have proven inspiring and hopeful. This morning I was going through the blogs I follow, and came upon two posts that addressed these themes, and simply demanded to be shared. Although each arises from the experience of the ethnic other, both speak to the human capacity for using life’s challenges as material for inspiration and creativity. Continue reading
Vermont is green, those rich early summer hues that saturate the landscape. From here it is very difficult to imagine the cold to come; even so, last evening we gathered with others to acknowledge the Solstice, and thus, the turning year. Truth is, tonight will be a tad longer.
Last week was perplexing, the sort of week that leaves one scratching one’s head, and pondering life’s complexities. The gardens finally showed life, with even a handful of bean plants breaking the surface. (I guess we should replant the beans, again.) Politicians blamed the victims of the Charleston shootings, and surprisingly few people seemed to object. The theft of Native lands continued unabated, as did the cascade of youth suicides on reservations. Continue reading