is such a Hollywood kitsch word to me these days with its overuse on reality shows.



And yet it's the word for yesterday for me.


After four months of bringing pots and bags of food into the local Obama office almost every time I came to volunteer, my assigned role for Election Day was as "Comfort Captain" overseeing food, beverages and general care of a bevy of people who were doing last minute Get Out the Vote efforts.  The official button I received to that effect is my most prized artifact from the campaign, and has already been carefully fastened to the lampshade that carries various historic family pins and buttons, including one from Anderson's campaign for president after I heard him speak in person.  In some ways - most of my food yesterday was extra on top of what other people had brought in by the time I got in mid-day.  I think my care, presence and energy were important though.

And I sat in a side room in the local Democratic party office, just down the street from the Obama office where we'd already accomplished so much together.  Exteme first came to mind about the platter of brownies on the table where I was putting together sandwiches - someone had carefully iced half of them, so they were a really attractive combination of brown and white - symbollic, no?

Extreme ... tension at 3 in the afternoon when our young leader stood up on a chair to tell us that the polls were showing Obama only had a .5% lead over McCain in Ohio, and that Kerry had lost in Ohio and therefore the election in '04 because of rural counties like ours - and that we might hate her, but she was pulling *everyone* from whatever they'd signed up to do and per orders was sending us all out to knock on doors to get the last few people to the polls.

Extreme ... fierceness as the mother of the field organizer I'd been working under and I drove around a remote part of the county finding addresses and talking to an interesting range of folks.  We *would* do this.  

Extreme ... chuckles - about the man with the tatoos who yelled out his open window to me as I was walking away - yes, his whole family had voted ... "for Ronald Reagan!" [snort, laugh]


Extreme ... beauty of the setting sun on the maples flaming the last of their leaves over the rolling hills.

Extreme ... determination as we sat in an stuffy windowless room calling people up 'til poll closing.

Extreme perserverence ... as staff and a few wouldn't quit volunteers got call lists off the internet and called Colorado and Nevada to get out the last voters there up till almost 9 pm Ohio time after the local democrats had already begun their election day party in a nearby bar.


I finally headed over to the bar to see what was happening ... but felt a tugging to come back to the Obama office and all of the fellow campaigners - and as I was walking up to the back door through the echoing expanse of a covered mallway - I heard ...



EXTREME screaming ... I ran into the backroom and they all screamed at once ...


MSNBC and FOX!  had CALLED OHIO!   And I was screaming with my whole body, too.



WE DID IT!  WE WON OHIO!   After *months* of being told that if we won Ohio for Obama, he'd win the presidency, we had done it.  And we were hugging and crying and swinging each other around.  We could look into the eyes of all the children and people who'd waited extreme hours in line to vote and connect with the spirits of people who had voted before they died, and say yes, we did it!  Barack is president elect of the United States of America.  [crying as I type]


I literally fell over into bed last night celebrating with one of my closest friends via cell phone, listening to Barack's victory speech through the phone from her TV (since I don't have cable at my house) - and woke up this morning to find out I hadn't even shut down my computer [laughing] - if that's the most I forgot to do in the giddy tiredness, I'm in really good shape.


Extreme ... happiness and relief.

On the last day of April, 1992, riots broke out in the Watts section of LA in California, and in severely depressed inner city areas around the US.  I was sitting in the cafeteria at seminary, when the incoming student body president - a very powerful African American woman with great dignity called on everyone gathered to go in to the chapel to pray about what was happening.  That time in prayer together framed the next few days, and my time in ministry since then, especially what I've done the last few months with the Obama campaign.


Jesse Jackson was our scheduled commencement speaker for graduation that Saturday two days after the riots broke out.  We knew he wasn't going to come - because he was doing his best to keep things from getting out of control in Watts.  So our seminary president was in the middle of a really powerful sermon when a professor came up and tapped him on the shoulder.  While he was *preaching*!?  Dr. Evans then turned to the packed congregation and said "graduates, when you have your own pulpits, I will finish this sermon there for you.  Now there's someone else I think you want to hear."  And Reverend Jesse Jackson preached to us over the telephone and the loudspeaker - from Watts.  He called us colleagues, and orated eloquently about the flames of renewal around him - and talked about how many African American men were incarcerated at a yearly cost much greater than sending them to college.  He challenged us all to join him in the work for justice.


In the succeeding years, I have struggled to find my professional path, and have felt in many ways that I have not lived up to that challenge very well.  Since '98, I have lived again in the house where I grew up, in a priviledged neighborhood in a very priviledged town.  I commute on weekends to a downtown Columbus church that is very active in urban ministry, and have been involved in AIDS activism and ministry for several years.  But because of where I live, I continue to be relatively sheltered and removed from profound social justice issues, and keenly aware of the increasing chasm between the wealthy in our society and the world, and those whose basic needs are not getting met.  The political and social climate of the last eight years has been fundamentally painful and frustrating in that regard, and despite my significant participation in MoveOn.org and other activist movements, I've felt relatively helpless and hopeless to answer the gospel call to justice.


Then early in this year, MoveOn put a vote to its members about which candidate we were supporting - and whether we as a movement should endorse and put our weight behind a particular candidate. I began to really learn about Barack, who he was, and what he was asking us all to do.  And I knew that the challenge that Jesse had given us all those years ago now had a better chance of being answered in a tangible and hopeful way.


Driving away from the office in the midst of the euphoric gratitude of knowing that Barack and Joe had carried Ohio, and therefore most likely had won the election, tears rolling down my cheeks, I whispered - "this one was for you, Jesse".


I am sending this story to the Rainbow Push coalition, in the hopes that it will reach Reverend Jackson.  If anyone knows a direct e-dress for him - I would really apprecatie that information.



blessings and love -


Sylvia

Hi, folks - for the third year I will be part of an Epiphany ministry 3 day short course in Christianity leadership team.  The team will have our blessing ceremony on the evening of Thursday, November 13th, and will be serving especially challenged teenagers from 8:30 Friday morning until 7 pm Sunday night.  So I am asking for people to pray and send good thoughts and energy for us from 6 pm Thursday the 13th in half hour time slots until 7 pm Sunday the 16th.  If you desire a particular slot or slots during that period, please let me know.  If you are willing for me to put your name down on one of the slots, with the understanding that you will focus as you feel nudged to - that would be especially appreciated.   I am especially making the request here because I know most folks are *not* rooted in traditional Christianity - and I really welcome your support however you might frame it.


Each of the team members has a prayer packet to fill out with peoples' first names and locations.  When the slots are filled in, we cut the packets into strips which are made into a paper chain which surrounds the room where the leadership team and teen "stars" are meeting.  This weekend is modeled after Emmaus, Cruscillo, Via De Christo, Kairos, and other Christian renewal weekends, and is focused on teens who are in state custody.  Our team will be serving youth from the United Methodist Children's Home in Columbus, OH, in the setting of a nearby church.  Having served on previous weekends, I know the impact of the prayer chain is tremendous - and feeling surrounded by your loving Spirited support helps the team and the stars more than you can know.



Thank you!
 
loving blessings -


Sylvia - aka peacehealer

Hi, folks - Chaos Divine just posted a powerful blog about Ambivalence in his experience of Remembrance Day - the Canadian parallel to Veteran's Day
and Debyemm about Orwell and the way societies are structured and talked about and both their blogs further motivated me to post the letter below from Bill Ayers that I received through today's digest of the Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America's e-list.

If you're interested in more background about Bill clicking his name will lead you to Wikepedia's  informative article.


peace, blessings - and here's bringing forth real social change!


Sylvia



What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been
by: Bill Ayers, In These Times

Friday 07 November 2008

  Whew! What was all that mess? I'm still in a daze, sorting it all 
out, decompressing.

    Pass the Vitamin C.

    For the past few years, I have gone about my business, hanging 
out with my kids and, now, my grandchildren, taking care of our elders 
(they moved in as the kids moved out), going to work, teaching and 
writing. And every day, I participate in the never-ending effort to 
build a powerful and irresistible movement for peace and social justice.

    In years past, I would now and then - often unpredictably - 
appear in the newspapers or on TV, sometimes with a reference to 
Fugitive Days, my 2001 memoir of the exhilarating and difficult years 
of resistance against the American war in Vietnam. It was a time when 
the world was in flames, revolution was in the air, and the serial 
assassinations of black leaders disrupted our utopian dreams.

    These media episodes of fleeting notoriety always led to some 
extravagant and fantastic assertions about what I did, what I might 
have said and what I probably believe now.

    It was always a bit surreal. Then came this political season.

    During the primary, the blogosphere was full of chatter about my 
relationship with President-elect Barack Obama. We had served together 
on the board of the Woods Foundation and knew one another as neighbors 
in Chicago's Hyde Park. In 1996, at a coffee gathering that my wife, 
Bernardine Dohrn, and I held for him, I made a $200 donation to his 
campaign for the Illinois State Senate.

    Obama's political rivals and enemies thought they saw an 
opportunity to deepen a dishonest perception that he is somehow un-
American, alien, linked to radical ideas, a closet terrorist who 
sympathizes with extremism - and they pounced.

    Sen. Hillary Clinton's (D-N.Y.) campaign provided the script, 
which included guilt by association, demonization of people Obama knew 
(or might have known), creepy questions about his background and dark 
hints about hidden secrets yet to be uncovered.

    On March 13, Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), apparently in an attempt 
to reassure the base,- sat down for an interview with Sean Hannity of 
Fox News. McCain was not yet aware of the narrative Hannity had been 
spinning for months, and so Hannity filled him in: Ayers is an 
unrepentant "terrorist," he explained, "On 9/11, of all days, he had 
an article where he bragged about bombing our Pentagon, bombing the 
Capitol and bombing New York City police headquarters. ... He said, 'I 
regret not doing more.'"

    McCain couldn't believe it.

    Neither could I.

    On the campaign trail, McCain immediately got on message. I 
became a prop, a cartoon character created to be pummeled.

    When Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin got hold of it, the attack went 
viral. At a now-famous Oct. 4 rally, she said Obama was 'pallin' 
around with terrorists.- (I pictured us sharing a milkshake with two 
straws.)

    The crowd began chanting, "Kill him!" "Kill him"- It was downhill 
from there.

    My voicemail filled up with hate messages. They were mostly from 
men, all venting and sweating and breathing heavily. A few threats: 
"Watch out!" and "You deserve to be shot." And some e-mails, like this 
one I got from satan@hell.com: "I'm coming to get you and when I do, 
I'll water-board you."

    The police lieutenant who came to copy down those threats 
deadpanned that he hoped the guy who was going to shoot me got there 
before the guy who was going to water-board me, since it would be most 
foul to be tortured and then shot. (We have been pals ever since he 
was first assigned to investigate threats made against me in 1987, 
after I was hired as an assistant professor at the University of 
Illinois at Chicago.)

    The good news was that every time McCain or Palin mentioned my 
name, they lost a point or two in the polls. The cartoon invented to 
hurt Obama was now poking holes in the rapidly sinking McCain-Palin 
ship.

    That '60s Show

    On Aug. 28, Stephen Colbert, the faux right-wing commentator from 
Comedy Central who channels Bill O'Reilly on steroids, observed:

    To this day, when our country holds a presidential election, we 
judge the candidates through the lens of the 1960s. ... We all know 
Obama is cozy with William Ayers a '60s radical who planted a bomb in 
the capital building and then later went on to even more heinous 
crimes by becoming a college professor. ... Let us keep fighting the 
culture wars of our grandparents. The '60s are a political gift that 
keeps on giving.

    It was inevitable. McCain would bet the house on a dishonest and 
largely discredited vision of the '60s, which was the defining decade 
for him. He built his political career on being a prisoner of war in 
Vietnam.

    The '60s - as myth and symbol - is much abused: the downfall of 
civilization in one account, a time of defeat and humiliation in a 
second, and a perfect moment of righteous opposition, peace and love 
in a third.

    The idea that the 2008 election may be the last time in American 
political life that the '60s plays any role whatsoever is a mixed 
blessing. On the one hand, let's get over the nostalgia and move on. 
On the other, the lessons we might have learned from the black freedom 
movement and from the resistance against the Vietnam War have never 
been learned. To achieve this would require that we face history fully 
and honestly, something this nation has never done.

    The war in Vietnam was an illegal invasion and occupation, much 
of it conducted as a war of terror against the civilian population. 
The U.S. military killed millions of Vietnamese in air raids - like 
the one conducted by McCain - and entire areas of the country were 
designated free-fire zones, where American pilots indiscriminately 
dropped surplus ordinance - an immoral enterprise by any measure.

    What Is Really Important

    McCain and Palin - or as our late friend Studs Terkel put it, 
"Joe McCarthy in drag" - would like to bury the '60s. The '60s, after 
all, was a time of rejecting obedience and conformity in favor of 
initiative and courage. The '60s pushed us to a deeper appreciation of 
the humanity of every human being. And that is the threat it poses to 
the right wing, hence the attacks and all the guilt by association.

    McCain and Palin demanded to "know the full extent" of the Obama-
Ayers "relationship" so that they can know if Obama, as Palin put it, 
"is telling the truth to the American people or not."

    This is just plain stupid.

    Obama has continually been asked to defend something that ought 
to be at democracy's heart: the importance of talking to as many 
people as possible in this complicated and wildly diverse society, of 
listening with the possibility of learning something new, and of 
speaking with the possibility of persuading or influencing others.

    The McCain-Palin attacks not only involved guilt by association, 
they also assumed that one must apply a political litmus test to begin 
a conversation.

    On Oct. 4, Palin described her supporters as those who "see 
America as the greatest force for good in this world" and as a "beacon 
of light and hope for others who seek freedom and democracy." But 
Obama, she said, "Is not a man who sees America as you see it and how 
I see America." In other words, there are "real" Americans - and then 
there are the rest of us.

    In a robust and sophisticated democracy, political leaders - and 
all of us - ought to seek ways to talk with many people who hold 
dissenting, or even radical, ideas. Lacking that simple and yet 
essential capacity to question authority, we might still be burning 
witches and enslaving our fellow human beings today.

    Maybe we could welcome our current situation - torn by another 
illegal war, as it was in the '60s - as an opportunity to search for 
the new.

    Perhaps we might think of ourselves not as passive consumers of 
politics but as fully mobilized political actors. Perhaps we might 
think of our various efforts now, as we did then, as more than a 
single campaign, but rather as our movement-in-the-making.

    We might find hope in the growth of opposition to war and 
occupation worldwide. Or we might be inspired by the growing movements 
for reparations and prison abolition, or the rising immigrant rights 
movement and the stirrings of working people everywhere, or by gay and 
lesbian and transgender people courageously pressing for full 
recognition.

    Yet hope - my hope, our hope - resides in a simple self-evident 
truth: the future is unknown, and it is also entirely unknowable.

    History is always in the making. It's up to us. It is up to me 
and to you. Nothing is predetermined. That makes our moment on this 
earth both hopeful and all the more urgent - we must find ways to 
become real actors, to become authentic subjects in our own history.

    We may not be able to will a movement into being, but neither can 
we sit idly for a movement to spring full-grown, as from the head of 
Zeus.

    We have to agitate for democracy and egalitarianism, press harder 
for human rights, learn to build a new society through our self-
transformations and our limited everyday struggles.

    At the turn of the last century, Eugene Debs, the great Socialist 
Party leader from Terre Haute, Ind., told a group of workers in 
Chicago, "If I could lead you into the Promised Land, I would not do 
it, because someone else would come along and lead you out."

    In this time of new beginnings and rising expectations, it is 
even more urgent that we figure out how to become the people we have 
been waiting to be.

    ---------

    Bill Ayers is a Distinguished Professor of Education and Senior 
University Scholar at the University of Illinois at Chicago. He is the 
author of "Fugitive Days" (Beacon) and co-author, with Bernardine 
Dohrn, of "Race Course: Against White Supremacy" (Third World Press).

Hi, folks - the three day Epiphany retreat for teens that I was to be on the leadership team for this weekend was cancelled tonight.  The teen residents of the treatment home we were going to serve are undergoing various stresses and upheavals, with the result that there would not be enough of them eligible to form a critical mass for the program.


I'm a little adrift with the news - and yet I sense new opportunities arising out of this disappointment.   I *deeply* appreciate the good thoughts/energy/and prayers folks have been sending to this effort - and I have a feeling they're yielding interesting fruit.


One immediate result was a couple friends from the team and I went out to a nearby restaurant after the meeting and shared some great bonding time.  They're both folks who have painful, powerful, grace-fulll stories - and it was a gift to be able to spend that time decompressing with them - which may lead to more such chances in the future.


Another possibility is that I will connect with the chaplain of the treatment facility to be supportive to evening and night staff - who face special stresses and often have high turnover and/or burnout rates.  As a habitual night owl and someone who worked a couple years on evening and night shifts at a domestic violence center - I have special appreciation for their situations.

Our team will also take a tour of the facility and spend some time together in prayer there on Saturday.  Since the weekend retreats have all been hosted at a local church, many of us have not seen the full campus of the center - just the dining hall where we meet once a month with former participants of the program we've led.  Saturday's tour and prayer time may facilitate deeper involvement with the institution on more levels than I've already mentioned.  I'm especially excited about that possibility.  Two of my sisters of the heart serve as treatment foster parents through this institution - and I have come to have quite a bit of respect for the work the institution does - and particularly the spiritual grounding for it.

All in all - it's been an intense evening.


I apologize if what I've written is rambling or unclear - I wanted to post something before I went to sleep tonight to let you all know what was going on.  The title refers to the teens who are called "Stars" when they participate in an Epiphany weekend - it also refers to the biblical epiphany story - where the wise men experienced G*dde guiding them by the star of Bethlehem to the Baby Jesus - ie, we are seeking spiritual wisdom in our next steps.


I look forward to updating everyone on future developments -


[loving hugs]


Sylvia

I was on a national conference call this evening that was joined by hundreds of other people.  For most of the time, everyone except the speakers were muted so their voices could be heard clearly free of background interference.  At the end of the call, there were a few minutes for questions, and I quickly punched in the code to electronically raise my hand, and got the information I needed.  Perhaps five people after me, the man asked everyone to speak up because the only person he heard ask a question was me!


The emotional impact of what he said was perhaps parallel to what someone might feel if they were complimented on their dancing after a time in their lives when they struggled to walk.


When I was in English class in high school - people were constantly asking me to speak up - because they couldn't hear me one row in front of where I was sitting.  Throughout college and seminary, I got feedback that I was very soft spoken, and people had lots of trouble understanding what I said.  As I began abuse recovery, finding my voice became a metaphor for unsticking the yuck that was trapped inside.  An important affirmation was doing a reading in chapel, and being congratulated by a mentor on having a magnificent voice.  Over the years I have continued to cultivate my "pastor voice" - projecting and speaking clearly and have learned that I can startle people with the strength of what I say.


As I was reflecting last night on what I was feeling - I realized voices took the place of fists in my family of origin - and I got a lot of feedback growing up about not saying things right, not doing things right, essentially being "wrong" altogether.  My voice got swallowed - in many ways for safety and survival - and much of my pain and anger lodged in my throat chakra.  To be singled out among the numbers of people on that call as the one that could be heard meant the energy is finally flowing.  It is flowing as I am supported by people who love and affirm me, including my former signifcant other, Brad.  The energy is rippling and running like a river as I direct the fire inside toward justice and social change.  It is trickling through me like the tears running down my face, as I reassure myself that I am safe enough inside to deal with being heard clearly.



blessings and joy -



Sylvia

I drive an almost 13 yr old Subaru with almost 140,000 miles on it.  I inherited it after my mom died in 2000.  I'll let you decide if that previous statement is helpful background after you read the current saga [grin].


My favorite grocery store is Trader Joe's and I often stop there on my way home from church or other locations in Columbus, about 35 miles from where I live.  A common love for TJ's was one of the strong connections between my former significant other Brad and I - and there are various other stories about that which I might write up some other time.  Since he lived in California, and I live in Ohio I got in the habit of calling him after I finished shopping, to let him know that I was headed home, and would give him an approximate time for the trip so he wouldn't worry as much.  After he died in late June - the inability to call him anymore would often bring up tears and sharp shreds of grief, especially when I was about to leave TJ's.  In mid-April, the Subaru had begun occasionally refusing to start when I turned the key over.  Well - after Brad died, it decided to do that pretty much every time I was leaving the TJ's lot - and very seldom any other time.





[scratching head in slight puzzlement]


The first time it refused to start at TJ's - I called to check in with an energy healer friend - who said "oh, funny you called about a non-starting car - another of our mutual friends had the same thing happen earlier today.  Call me back and let me know if you need a ride someplace, or if the car starts successfully."  So I tried it again - and vroom!  Engine starts, no problem.


So that got to be a pattern, too.  Come out of TJ's, car doesn't start, call energy healer friend - vroom!  Next time I try - the 'Ru starts like nothing was ever the matter [shaking head].  After having this happen more than half a dozen times - I'm usually laughing like a lunatic when I make the phone call - and she's started laughing when she picks up.  Given that she's intuitive - she doesn't always answer, depending on how she's feeling nudged inside.  One night recently, I called in the afternoon and got her voicemail.  Called from TJ's later in the day, cranky (or is that not cranky enough?) car - and presto, she anwered and we roared with laughter together.  So tonight I called and got her voicemail.  That seemed to be enough - next try of the key, and the 'Ru purred away happily.

This time, before even trying to start the car - I checked in with Brad spiritually.  I figured that might be some of the problem, right?  No - apparently that wasn't enough [laughing wryly].   I'm not sure if he's still looking after "dear" as he called me by having me call someone before I drive home, whether he's just tweaking me (since his wicked sense of humor is still going) or whether he doesn't have anything to do with it.


love and blessings


Sylvia

I have a lot of family of the heart - especially siblings.  That includes my biological brother and my sister in law - though they live several thousand miles away and visits are rare and precious - even e-mails and phone calls can have gaps of weeks between.


The family of the heart that I'm geographically closer to include the two sisters of the heart with whom I usually share holidays like I did this Thanksgiving.  They have one biological daughter, and an ever changing number of foster daughters - and on holidays, their house is usually filled to the brim with people, laughter, food, and sometimes drama which was mercifully mostly absent this time :-).  We really missed our fourth sister this year - she's only a couple weeks away from finishing law school and wasn't able to make the trip.


Then there is my crazy brother Lonny - a risk taking activist and pot stirrer since at least the age of 16 when he and a bunch of other people chained themselves to a runway to prevent a bomber from taking off for Vietnam - we tend to drag each other into all sorts of adventures [loving grin] including AIDS activism and ministry at the national and local level.

And there's my brother of the heart Matt - we've known each other since he was 6 and I was nine.  We reconnected in our twenties - to somewhat mutual surprise.  I hadn't gone to church growing up - and we met again when I was helping consecrate communion at the American Baptist church in our village.  We don't connect as much as we used to - but when things hit the fan - we're there for each other.  The night after my former SO Brad died - Matt was the one who took me to dinner at Brad's and my favorite restaurant.

My beloved energy healer friend Gary and I exchange energy work with each other once a month - and have been supporting each other in relationship transition issues recently.

And I have several MtF transgender sisters of the heart who I've connected with online - they love to have "girl talks" with me - even knowing that I'm a *heck* of a lot more butch than any of them probably ever were even in male personas [chuckling affectionately].


There are times when I still miss other members of my biological family - dad and mother's father both died when I was sixteen and all the other grandparents were gone before that, mom died about nine years ago.  At the same time - I'm deeply grateful for the opportunity that life has offered me to connect with the family I need.



gentle blessings and love -


Sylvia