It happened once, twice; I trust the third time could not charm me more. I have witnessed the power of a gesture, one made without words. I have seen the light that glows when people connect in quiet ways. Now experienced on more than one occasion, I have come to appreciate the peaceful power of consistent communication. I had not fully acknowledged what could be accomplished until I arrived on the scene, alone. Then I saw it. I felt it. I could hardly believe that a single steadfast individual, could convey a message without words, and still receive such a resounding response. Yet, while there, it occurred. I was struck by what had not been apparent for near a decade. The stance of a quiet soul, stated calmly, clearly, and with care, can move more persons than I ever imagined.
I write this reflection on, what in years past; I would have considered a couple's certain doomsday. Within hours, Alex and Alia will walk down the aisle and take their vows. Will May 2, 2009, be the day of deliverance for the two, one of delight, or the beginning of the end? I know not. I only understand that on this date, the pair will do, as I purposefully never planned to. They will wed. I have not met either of these individuals; yet today I can think of nothing but their lives and the effect they have had on me.
I became aware of Alex and Alia, A2, for short, while on an airplane headed for The Toddling Town. It was Friday, March 27, 2009. Neither the man who will become a husband today, nor the woman, who will be declared his wife, was physically present. Indeed, I may never see the persons who sincerely moved me to rethink whether I might say, "I do". Perhaps, they know nothing of what began as an innocent encounter. The Earth did not shake, and certainly, I never expected my conviction to crumble. Indeed essentially my belief did not evolve. In truth, nothing actually changed. Still, after a three-hour exchange, I began to more seriously consider what for all of my live I rejected, marriage.
It was but a minute after the newly elected President took the "Oath of Office." At 12:01 Post Meridian, on January 20, 2009, the White House web page was changed. In the spirit of a new dawn, the Oval Office gave birth to its baby. The site entered with a scream; yet, hearts filled with joy never heard a sound. The proud parents, the American people, could not be bothered with what in other times might have seemed to be noise. As they looked upon their new Commander-In-Chief, most just stood in awe, amazed that they could have accomplished so much, with so little effort. When love gives rise to greatness, sweat and tears are trivial.
It was a cool Fall evening in South Florida. The breeze was gentle; the sunset glorious. As I approached the intersection where, each weekend I stand in support of peace and tranquility, I did as I do when at this crossroad. I placed my arm out the window. My digits were extended and formed the symbol associated with serenity. When I am in a vehicle, at the locale commonly considered the Peace Corner I work to preserve the intent of my Saturday mission. I strive to advance awareness for the notion, this nation remains at war. Soldiers are slaughtered far from the shores of home sweet home. Civilians, in their native country continue to lose their lives for a want of war. I crave global harmony and will work to restore some sense of civility worldwide. However, as I sat silently in contemplation cries of "Country First" startled me.
It is a beautiful day. On each afternoon, and into the evening millions, billions of us amble about. Worldwide, we are busy people. Even when we are out for a casual stroll we walk, we talk, and yet we see little. Most of us hear less. The birds fly above. Wings flutter and flap. The sound made is a silence. It fades delicately into the background. These little creatures chortle and chatter. Each sings a sweet song. Bees, beetles, beasts of all sorts hum as they travel hither and yon. These beings communicate. They create communities carefully. Yet, humans intent on instant and tangible gratification are unaware of what is ethereal.
Flowers twist and turn gracefully with the wind. The gentle breeze whispers to us all. Each of us is touched tenderly and still not moved. Trees also commune with other forms of nature. Limbs bend; they extend towards the sun. All entities exist as part of one, except perhaps, humans. Egos separate us from so much. People frequently unite to what they consider matters of consequence.
Little persons may be swept away by a moments delight. However, as they age, they too learn to ignore the beauty that surrounds each of us. In time, children become adolescents. They no longer play and revel in life. There is too much to do. School work, homework, and the work that will provide an individual income becomes more important than the birds, the bees, or even you and me.
As tots, we learn to talk, to walk, to worry, to work, and to war. We are taught to forget the beauty that surrounds us. Words become ways to express who we are, what we want, why we believe as we do, and not a means for a greater connection.
Rarely do people ponder the power of a phrase. Few of us reflect upon the ways in which others hear what is said. Countless do not consider how a written communication might be received. Nor do people imagine how the unintended impression influences an interaction.
Humans engage in exchanges, and most feel as though no one listens or understands.
Too often people think of self first. They miss the miracles that surround them, that are within the wind, the words, or the person who sits in front of them. No matter how gorgeous the morning, afternoon, evening, or the individual, most are blind to the exquisiteness of what is.
Nonetheless, if we choose to, any of us can take the time to stop, to share, to speak in a manner that evokes an evolution. We might engage in a way that brings us closer together. People can be profound, or would be if they only stopped to consider the story of every sign, the meaning of each moment, the essence of all.
It is a beautiful day. Might we see it, hear it, feel it, and share it.
Americans are at odds. As a nation, we are splintered. The parts do not function as a whole. Some wish to control and command. Others prefer to work for the common good. As we stand, we are a country divided.
The world is crowded. Six billion, six hundred twenty seven million, three hundred and sixty six thousand, three hundred and fifty people populate this planet, or did a short time ago. In this moment, there are more humans than there were seconds ago. The number of inhabitants increases exponentially each day. Everywhere we look, there is another person being born. Yet, at least in America, people feel more isolated than they did in the past.
Americans are more connected. Cyberspace calls us and draws us in. Electronic communiqués flood our online mailboxes. Cell telephones ring. It seems everyone has one and uses it to speak with someone, even when they are with another individual. Conversation is ubiquitous. However, when in a crowd, Americans feel more socially isolated.
Ready or not, here it comes:(And a pre-emptive apology: Forgive me, please... For purposes of this being an Announcement and all, I may slip into referring to myself in third person... at least it ain't the Royal We, 'kay?)
Next Monday, October 22, at 1pm Pacific, 4pm Eastern, Maryscott O'Connor / MSOC (EmSock to friends and enemies alike) intends to make her maiden foray into that area between "alternative media" and "traditional media" -- that being the Internet-based "Blog Talk Radio."
The designated sobriquet for said radio talk show is, of course, the only possible identification one could choose: My Left Wing Talk Radio.
We each experience many obstructions everyday of our lives. There are physical fences we cannot or will not climb. A roadblock might impede our progress on the thoroughfare. Distance does us in. Many do not wish to venture beyond familiar neighborhoods. Proximity can limit our travel. Time is an interesting concept. Although, man created seconds, minutes, hours, and days, few of us seem able to separate ourselves from this obstacle.
As difficult as it might be to ford the river or sea, nothing compares with the challenge we feel when we know there is a need discuss subjects that cause us to feel defensive. Delicate topics are taboo too. Conversations of all sorts are difficult. Personal or professional, what we say aloud and what we do not can cause palms to sweat, hands to clam, pulses to race, and a person to pace. The heart is easily torn to pieces. The head hurts at the thought of what might be a threat. Communication can cleave, or calm; it can be the greatest bridge or the barrier that destroys a connection.
As I approach a theme that is ubiquitous, I realize Communication is the least understood construct in our lives. I could attempt to discuss what we do easily and yet struggle with from a singular perspective, that of an educator, a parent, a sibling, an employee, or a supervisor; however, I fear what I frequently experience. If I endeavor to illustrate what occurs when, or how, from a particular perspective people will do what they typically do; they will isolate an incident, and intentionally or not ignore the essence of this discussion, emotions.
You knew it. I had no doubt. Fox News is not fair; nor does it present a balanced review of the news. Even Fox News London Bureau Chief, Norvell admitted to the bias in a Wall Street Journal Op-Ed article years ago.
Even we at Fox News manage to get some lefties on the air occasionally, and often let them finish their sentences before we club them to death and feed the scraps to Karl Rove and Bill O'Reilly. And those who hate us can take solace in the fact that they aren't subsidizing Bill's bombast; we payers of the BBC license fee don't enjoy that peace of mind.
Fox News is, after all, a private channel and our presenters are quite open about where they stand on particular stories. That's our appeal. People watch us because they know what they are getting. The Beeb's institutionalized leftism would be easier to tolerate if the corporation was a little more honest about it.
In recent days, I am reminded of my own life as I watch the Democratic Presidential candidates quibble, over the timing of peace talks. Throughout the airwaves, and in every periodical, reports discuss the divisive dynamic. Senator Hillary Clinton thinks Barack Obama is naïve. She states the comparison he makes when discussing her point of view is silly. Thus, the former First Lady emphasizes a theme that has haunted the junior Senator. Is the Senator from Illinois too young and inexperienced to be President of the world's superpower?
The Internet is in danger, as are we all. Our right to free speech is threatened. Access to information may soon be lost. AT&T, Verizon, and Comcast have plans. Power to the people is not their proposed agenda. Profits please these corporations. We, the people will pay.
Gargantuan telecommunication companies will control cyberspace, if common-folk do not do all that they can to prevent the predicted domination. Those that control the cables do so at a cost. The price is expected to rise and access to information will fall. Communication conglomerates intend to alter our net neighborhoods. The qualities that advance knowledge will be lost in space. Please do not let this happen. Help! Share your story and Save The Internet. Tell the Federal Communication Commission why Net Neutrality is important to you.
As we stood face-to-face and quietly discussed my years of anorexia and bulimia, I was reminded of what I always knew and yet, was too distracted to acknowledge aloud. It was not that I never spoke of it before, I had on many occasions. However, this conversation helped me to realize the heartache my illness [and I unintentionally] caused more deeply.
In the last sixteen years, I have only used the word in my writing. It just does not seem apt for me anymore. In 1991, my Grandpa passed, or as some say, he died, although he never did. I am reminded of this today for someone I knew from afar for many decades, and met face-to-face only a year ago on this same date, took his last breath this afternoon.
It is a somber day; yet beautiful. Phillip, is gentle man, a giant. His heart is, to coin an expression, more golden than gold. His spirit is softer than the yellow metal is in its purest form. Phillip's goodness is great. You may think it odd that I presume to know so much about this man. After all, we only spoke on a few occasions in the past year. However, I am closely acquainted with Phillip's family. I have, by extension been apart of this loving circle for generations.
On March 11, 2006, I spent hours chatting with Phillip. We discovered all that was between us. Until then, we never understood that we were truly connected. Without communication, there is much conjecture. When we open our hearts and minds much is realized, at least Phillip and I thought so.
(Because we the People are important - promoted by Betsy L. Angert)
I have not come to terms with what seems contradictory. This year, Time Magazine chose you, us, Internet users as the persons of the year. Time editors recognized citizens are creating and documenting the news. We, the people have ample access. Currently, we have freedom of speech; yet, simultaneously, this right is threatened.
In a nation where forty plus, fifty, or sixty percent of marriages end in divorce, [depending who whose statistics you trust] the topic of companionship and connections is a must. In a country where many are separated, where children are left alone, and families are not intact, the quality of relationships is a necessary consideration. This week, the New York Times addressed this concern in two articles, Marriage Is Not Built on Surprises and Questions Couples Should Ask (Or Wish They Had) Before Marrying. I, as many do, have an active interest in this matter.
Yesterday, I spoke with an acquaintance. She seems to be happy in her current relationship; she says she is. I remember when her beau was a source of great stress. Jess was involved in his work and Lisa wanted him to be concerned with her. She tried and tried to change what was. Lisa turned to other men; Jess was upset. Still, transformation was slow in coming. The relationship came and went, repeatedly. Now the two are one, or are they?
Years have passed Gary. I have learned so much. I can only hope that you feel as I do. There were so many misunderstandings; there is still so much pain. You taught me of love, perceptions, communication, and how each of these is important. Understanding these in total is vital to the health of an individual and a relationship. I am writing in love, sharing our story from my perspective. I am working to communicate.
Sixty-three [63] percent of singles have never been married.
Fourteen [14] percent of singles are widowed.
Twelve and two-tenths [12.2] percent are single parents. [Ten [10] million women, two and two-tenths [2.2] percent men]
In New York State alone, fifty [50] percent of the population is single!
One third of all births in 2002 were born to single mothers.
I thought; how fascinating, so many singles celebrating their marital status; yet, from my observations many are actively searching for a spouse, a soul mate, a sense of security, a sex partner, or something else.
"It is time to go to school," mother calls gently. "No, I don't wanna!" I scream. I continue, "You can't make me." "Oh yes, I can!" she exclaims. Now she is getting angry. I start calling her names and then I decide to play the martyr. I say sobbingly, "You don't love me anymore." Finally, I resort to lecturing her on the finer points of how to best raise a child. I speak to her of what it means to be part of a loving family. I cite chapter and verse, for surely she does not understand. If she loved me, she would let me be.
She defends herself against my barbarous claims. She attempts to provide examples. I rant; I rage. Who does she think she is? She does not own me. I am autonomous. I know what is best for me. We battle, we argue, and reluctantly, I trudge off to school.
For me, school is a calm place. I excel in this environment.
This was intended to be a short statement, a response to a discussion. I was writing a missive on the subject, similar in scope, though not in tone. My intention was to offer a well thought out essay. I was going to present political posturing as evidence for what we as humans do. However, once the comment was complete I concluded the personal might be more effective.
I wrote more than I thought I might and realized, as an observation tucked neatly within a thread few would read this. I think this treatise addresses more than what takes place at My Left Wing. It speaks to an archetype. This essay looks at communities and communication within these. My experience and sharing is likely applicable to world politics and to national interests. This tome is about life, yours, mine, and ours. It discusses what we do to destroy the connections we as living, breathing, and loving beings crave.
I invite you to share your stories, your thoughts, the lessons you learned. Teach me; I am your student.
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