"It Gets Better" (Broadway sings for the Trevor Project)

If you are young (or not so young) and feel alone or are bullied, please hang in there. And no matter who you are, enjoy this song from young folks on Broadway sharing their own experience in song. It gets better.








Broadway stars rock out in a celebration of life, in the wake of LGBT suicides across the nation. Please SHARE this original song and video to help send a message of hope and support. Available October 19th on iTunes, with all download proceeds benefiting The Trevor Project. www.thetrevorprojec.org (c) 2010 Jay Kuo & Blair Shepard. Inquiries: jay@singoutlouiseproductions.com.

h/t to Jon


--the BB

Lost generation

AARP impresses with this.

h/t to Maha

--the BB

April 24 - Armenian Martyrs' Day

I don't know what will come of this but I will take it as hopeful news. I pray that it is.

ISTANBUL — Turkey and Armenia have agreed to a framework for improving their strained relations, the two countries said in a statement this week, apparently in the first breakthrough in diplomacy in more than a decade.

Turkey closed its border with Armenia in 1993 to support its ally, Azerbaijan, which was fighting Armenian-backed separatists in the Nagorno-Karabakh region. But relations have long been tense: Turkey does not recognize the mass killings of more than a million Ottoman Armenians in 1915 as genocide, something Armenia has long campaigned for.

The agreement, which was issued by Turkey’s Foreign Ministry in a short statement late Wednesday, came on the eve of the Armenians’ annual commemoration of the genocide. It provided no details on how the two countries would move forward, stating simply that they “had achieved tangible progress and mutual understanding” and that “a road map has been identified.”

--New York Times

My personal roots, growing up among genocide survivors and their descendants, is well known at this blog.

Yertak parov
--the BB

My baby

Now to get the next round of crtitiques and move forward.

Got the book copied, the car serviced, and one copy comb-bound.

I think it's time to lie down and prop up my leg again.

Maybe even a nap. (Yes, +Maya, I am a very wayward son of the church but I try to heed your advice.)
--the BB

The first riddle

Photo of the original Turandot poster
courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Calàf, the exiled prince of Tartary, risks all by taking his chance at answering Princess Turandot's three riddles. If he wins, he gains her; if he loses, he loses his head. The appeal of ice princesses (tù che di gel sei cinta) is lost on me, but my secret dreams did not include princesses, so I recuse myself on this issue. I do loves me some Liù, on the other hand.

When I first heard a recording of Turandot it was one of those "take it or leave it" experiences. Over time, however, I came to love it and would probably say it is my favorite opera. In the words of one of the Office Girls: "You can't argue with the butt-kicking excellence of the Pucc'-man [pronounced Pooch-man]!"

Here are Éva Marton and Plácido Domingo in the riddle scene (Straniero, ascolta) from a production at the Met in 1988.



The first riddle is: "What is born each night and dies each dawn?"

Turandot is thoroughly shaken when Calàf guesses it: la speranza ("hope").

"Where IS he going with this?" you may well ask.

My point - finally - is this: today, for me, Hope is not about President Obama, nor a thing with feathers, but the act of planting in the yard. I am re-enacting what I did two years ago in a plot that consisted of nothing but an admixture of sand and fine adobe clay bounded by cinder block walls (an efficient but aesthetically execrable material). My sandbox.

This morning my back yard looked like this.


I started soaking some bare root roses.


Then I looked back from the other end.


And at the end of the day we had these expressions of hope and commitment to a future. On the left is "Strike it Rich" and on the right "Piñata." I already have one Piñata rose bush that I planted from a taller potted version and it blooms endlessly and gloriously in manifold shades.


I plan to plant a clematis tomorrow. We had some back in El Cerrito, California, and I do enjoy them.


I planted two "Iceberg" tree roses back near the vines along the wall.



Here, closer to the door off the dining room and just to the left of the Red Haven peach tree, are a "Chicago Peace" rose on the left and "Miss All American Beauty" on the right.


There are still six roses to plant tomorrow.


I also planted some red tulips that should have been planted earlier. Ah well, with me things happen when I get around to them.

And that is my day (ignoring trips for more compost and root stimulant and plant food plus several breaks).

To further explain the issue of hope, perhaps I should let you all know that the first year I put in bare root roses I watered and waited and waited and waited and waited past all hope for some sign of life. Eventually all but one put forth shoots and blossomed and I had a wonderful summer enjoying them. This is why these critters are, for me, a sign of hope. And of faithful waiting.

My little Advent.

And now it's time to go soak in the tub. If roses get to soak, so does the gardener.
--the BB

Living in hope

No, nothing profound this go-around.

I hope to catch up soon. That's the hope bit.

I have four more nations to welcome to our visitors list. The last post had only bought us up to 148 and we are now at 152.

Let's get through sewing and participating in an ordination this week and then worry about it. Oh, and preparing a sermon for next Sunday.

Having a life was much easier when I was unemployed, though paying bills and hanging on to my home and health insurance were much more of a challenge. All in all, I'll stick with employment, thanks.

Having said that, and in spite of the fact that I took two weeks off in early September, I am already ready for a vacation. Speaking of respite, time for bed.

Sweet dreams, y'all.
--the BB

Let's savor this moment

Barack Obama gives his victory speech in Des Moines.



A moving account of the excitement and the anxiety is provided by LowerManhattanite over at the Group News Blog (whence I obtained the video above).

UPDATE:
You may read the text of the speech over at Truthout.
--the BB

Le jardin - the yard update

Photo of my back yard taken about 15 minutes ago, contrast slightly enhanced

I think this is a beautiful time of the year. My yard, however, is not pretty at this season. I have ripped out the summer plantings, nothing is flowering at the moment, most leaves have fallen, some have frozen yet still hang dejected. It is a challenge to spend the time there that I should.

This afternoon, while the sun was shining brightly and it was a warm as NM gets this time of year, I sprayed the fruit trees and roses with dormant oil and watered everything. One cannot rely on rain to provide enough, though I don't have to water often.

I still need to plant bulbs for spring. I will wait a bit longer before pruning. My fruit trees don't need much, they were only saplings last year, but I want to eliminate crossing branches and cluttered centers. The lone tree in the front yard needs pruning too.

My dad grew up on a farm and I learned to prune trees from him. I'm not great at it but I can keep a tree looking better, with air and light for health. Since the fruit trees are semi-dwarf to start with and this is not some luxuriant Mediterranean climate, I don't think they are going to rush into hugeness. I will be sure they don't get too large but that challenge is some years away. Pruning is one of the things I loved when we lived in El Cerrito. There were bay trees (aka California laurel) and canyon live oaks, both natives, plus a Japanese maple, a crabapple, and a Myers lemon.

It will be interesting to see how my apple, peaches, cherries, and plums do this coming year. I shall hope for the best.
--the BB

Advent thoughts – Monday of Advent 3

There is so much to ponder in the Daily Office readings that I barely have time to glance through them and pick out what catches my attention. Even then, I try to focus. Y'all know how I CAN carry on. There is so much that can be said and so little I have to offer each day. That said, here are three items for today.

“Then if anyone says to you, “Look! Here is the Messiah!”* or “There he is!”—do not believe it. For false messiahs* and false prophets will appear and produce great signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, even the elect. Take note, I have told you beforehand. So, if they say to you, “Look! He is in the wilderness”, do not go out. If they say, “Look! He is in the inner rooms”, do not believe it. For as the lightning comes from the east and flashes as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.” (Matthew 24:23-27)

When one looks at a passage that straightforward, one wonders how Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Unification Church, can declare that he is "humanity's Savior, Messiah, Returning Lord and True Parent" (see footnote 1 at Wikipedia) and yet church folk will attend conferences of his Universal Peace Federation and he has even convinced some pastors and congregations to take down their crosses. It makes me wonder if they have ever read Matthew 24.

[If you are a new visitor here--and we have had many in the last day--you may well have similar questions about me. I can assure you there is not a verse of the Bible I have not read several times, I have no desire to found new churches, I know myself to be a frail and sinful human (and God's beloved child at the same time), and there is nobody I choose to call Lord besides the Holy Trinity. Just so you know. That won't convince anyone I am Orthodox, nor should it, but does set some clear boundaries about false messiahs. All I publish here are my own thoughts on a wide variety of topics. It's a place I alternately spout and play.]

Only one more thing to say on the passage above: if it's the Second Coming, we won't have to wonder whether it is. We'll know.

Switching to the Apocalypse, we encounter a theme in the letter to the Christians in Philadelphia (the original one in Asia Minor, not the one in Pennsylvania) that recurs toward the end of the book.

‘And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write:


These are the words of the holy one, the true one,


who has the key of David,


who opens and no one will shut,


who shuts and no one opens:

‘I know your works. Look, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut. I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. (Apocalypse 3:7-8)



And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. (Apocalypse 21:23-25)

It is the theme of the open door. Jesus is the one with the key. Jesus decides what is shut and what is open. We are treated to the image of a door that is never shut. Elsewhere he speaks of a closed door, but here of an open one.

In a world where we find defenses necessary for survival, where we keep our doors bolted and windows shuttered for protections, where we maintain our masks when interacting, keep persons and forces at bay, and generally avoid vulnerability, how very powerful it is to come toward the end of the Apocalypse (and the Bible) and find an image of unflinching openness!

God does not avoid blatant hints. Behold, I set before you this day life and death; therefore choose life! Hello! There is a door in front of you; it's open. [Hint, hint: try entering.] God offers an invitation and I hear echoing in my mind the chorus we sang in summer camp and Sunday school: "Jesus said that whosoever will (repeat two more times), whosoever will may come."

The New Jerusalem does not shut the gates and bar the doors at night. In fact, there is no night there. The radiance of Uncreated Light permeates everywhere. The final vision is not one of fear and defensiveness; it is one of openness and light. The kings who wailed over the fate of the wordly city, the city of earthly dominion and oppression and wickedness, the whore of Babylon--yes, those kings are now bringing their treasures into the heavenly city, the city of God, the bride of Christ, the new Jerusalem. I have often said that I don't know how God gets from chapter 18 to chapter 21, because there is one heckuva turnaround and transformation, but God can do what mortals cannot. So I trust God for the miracle and for the details. All I need to know is the hope found in the imagery that even Babyolon's buddies wind up entering those never-closed gates. Amazing. Unexpected. Pure grace. God at work.

Finally, there is this incredibly striking expression in the psalms of the day.

I said, "LORD, be merciful to me; heal me, for I have sinned against you." (Psalm 41:4)

Now, one would expect the logic to run like this:

I said, "LORD, be merciful to me; heal me, for I have kept myself without reproach." That is the reasonable appeal, the one that makes sense, the one we would normally anticipate. After all, that is how we try to bargain with God all the time. I know: futile and pointless and based on false premises, but we do it nonetheless.

The psalmist, however, understands fully the folly, blindness, and arrogance that would make that kind of appeal to God. Instead, with devastating self-awareness, honesty, and an audacity that knowns something of God's heart, the psalmist says, "Heal me, for I have sinned against you."

What other plea can we make? We need healing precisely because we cannot know true life without God's grace and our attempts fail repeatedly. It is because we overstep, miss the mark, walk about in illusion, and are just plain willful that we need healing and so the psalmist teaches us, with gobsmacking honesty, how to ask. Here it is, God. Help.

As Peter said to Jesus, "Where else will we go?" And under what other circumstances could we possibly ask?

It is all mercy. It is all the goodness of God.

--the BB
UPDATE: Maddie gives us this news from the Daily Nation (Kenya):

He is branded a blasphemer and a worshipper of evil, and has even been ostracised by his community. And his controversial sect, in which he claims to be “God the Father of Jesus”, has not won him many followers. Instead, it stirs feelings of anger and hatred wherever he goes.

At one point, Mr Jehovah Wanyonyi’s house was set ablaze at night as he and his family slept. This and other incidents have forced the spiritual leader of the Lost Israelites of Kenya sect of Kitale to shift several times over the past few years looking for a safer haven.

But despite all this seeming setback, Mr Wanyonyi soldiers on, saying that his message is the biblical truth, and that he is being sought for persecution just as Jesus was. But he is not just another mortal capable of sinning and dying, he says. And, because many people do not recognise him as the creator, he promises to punish the human race.

His commentary on Matthew 24 should be enlightening.

An old poem

Abba Poemen


Dozens of distractions beckon daily, calling me
Out of any purposeful path, saying, “Follow me!”

None of these alluring voices, each mimicking Jesus,
Offers more than a semblance of life.
They ask for my heart but offer nothing in return.

Giving my heart to you
Is scary beyond belief. Do not suppose I
Voice no doubts within my midnight mind,
Each quiet pause a chance to freeze with fear.

You did not ask for my heart, you
Only sent me a compliment,
Unaware of the reaction that would follow, the
Response that went from short notes to love poetry.

How many times have you wondered,
Every day, each night, whether there could possibly be
Any chance for happiness with a stranger from so far away,
Reaching in the darkness for a dream you long pursued,
Too tired to follow and too lonely to give up?

Touching you, eyes connecting first, then dreams, and
Only at the last fingers, lips, bodies,

There seemed some fresh new possibility on this earth,
Hope, long buried, bursting through the fertile soil of old decay.
And what my heart has yearned for seemed present with me
Those few days we were beside each other, facing life.

When I think of our comfort with each other, no need to
Hide anything, freely giving and receiving, playing with some grown-up
Innocence that knows of dangers yet feels strong and unafraid,
Chancing our emotions with each other, testing but not
Hurtful, I stand amazed.

Do you think I now will disbelieve what I saw and felt
Once time and distance settle in like dust to cover
Everything? Memory deceives but I am not that distrustful.
Sitting quietly, something I rarely do, I have a certainty.

Now is the time to see if we can build something
Over the miles, yes, and up close too.
To work together toward a common vision, if we can.

Surely we will test each other’s glorious strengths
And probe each other’s hidden weakness. Frailty too can serve
The good if it is embraced with wisdom and compassion, woven into life.
If we would know what is possible, we must seek what is possible.
Surrendering too soon to finding ways to deny, destroy, and part
Falls prey to all the old ways we have defeated ourselves.
You and I must seek what can be, we have settled far too long for lesser things.

You clown outrageously and make faces for my laughter, but
Oh, when you do not try for effect and simply smile, a radiance
Unfolds that cannot be measured. You also play with
Rage, a force I know and lived with, but not an anger that was cruel.

How far do we want to test, or see how much pain we will sustain?
Easy answers are useless. This I know: my heart requires
A solid sense that you want me. This I offer and know it is
Real: I want you, nobody else. This may change as we explore, but
This is the beginning and ground of the heart’s satisfaction here on earth.


June 14, 2002
[It is an acrostic. Slightly altered to remove names.]

“Do not give your heart
to that which does not
satisfy your heart.”

—Abba Poemen

Abba Poemen was one of the Desert Fathers
famous for his holiness and wisdom.
He lived in the 5th century.