FilmOnDeepWater

The Price of Redemption

A holiday meditation on the shortest day of the year...

21 December 2005
Berkeley, CA

The skies were overcast as I drove down to Shattuck Avenue in Berkeley this morning.  I was headed to Masse’s, a lovely little sidewalk café situated in a block of other pleasant shops and bookstores and such.  I was planning to sit under the awning, drink some coffee, and write my Morning Pages. Pulling into the parking space near the café I had this thought: Well, I thought to myself, if there is going to be any sunshine today, it will have to come from inside me.  Unfortunately, the weather inside was about the same as outside.

Suddenly, a man appeared next to the car.  A homeless man in soiled clothes with a matted grey beard, and deep, dark eyes.  His age could have been anywhere between forty and sixty.  He had a face that seemed to measure age as occurrences of humiliation and degradation, rather than the number days he has lived – be they sunny or overcast.  As he peered into the car, he motioned with his thumb and forefinger rubbing them together in that same pantomime I once saw Shylock use in The Merchant of Venice.  Is it universal?  Could I ask for yuan on a sidewalk in Beijing, or euros in Venice, just by making those same gestures?  Probably so.  In any event whether I was startled by his sudden appearance, or whether I was just asleep in that moment, I shook my head gesturing No.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was his complete resignation.  Or maybe it was his complete lack of either anticipation or expectation, and then his lack of disappointment, or resentment.  I do not know.  Whatever it was, his reaction as he walked away woke me up.  I immediately regretted my response.  In that moment I felt lost.  Utterly alone.

He continued walking down the street stopping to gesture to a clutch of shoppers standing on the sidewalk in front of Saul’s Deli - a bit of New York City without the cold weather and transit strikes.  I got my bag out of the back of the car and stood for a moment watching him.  I almost called out to him, but didn't.  I stood there silent, trapped in a paralysis of my own self-consciousness and private shame.  And I realized that I had this opportunity to make amends, but I didn't.  And then he was gone.  He seemed to just disappear, as if he turned a corner in the middle of the block.  It all seemed like magic.

And then I had this thought – What if he is the least among us?  What if his suffering is a vast ocean to my little duck pond?  What if this were the moment when I could save my own soul and I let the moment pass? And then as quickly as it emerged, the thought receded into those dark crevices in my mind where such thoughts seem to go after a time.

I bought my coffee and sat at the little round green metal table outside the café and began writing, feeling as unsettled as the wobbly table was on the uneven pavement, but determined to write through it anyway.  I was just about finished my last page in the entry, maybe five or six lines left.  I had just written this part:

“Not mattering” is so different from “whatever”.  Strange how differently I experience the world these days.  Not all the time certainly, but much of the time.  How insubstantial every “thing” is. How much solidity there is to a thought or a feeling.

Then suddenly he appeared again.  The same homeless man.  I looked up at him and this time, rather than gesturing, he spoke to me.  He said simply and directly, “Can you give me some money to get some food?”

When he walked off toward the store at the far end of the block, this is what I wrote on those last few lines of Page 81 of my journal:

My soul was just saved.  A homeless man who I refused to give money to when I first got here returned.  He did not remember my refusal.  In his forgetfulness I found forgiveness and  redemption.  I asked, “How much do you need?”  He said, “Two dollars to get something to eat.” I did not know that the cost of redemption was $2.

I guess I thought salvation would cost more.  I have no idea where that idea came from.

Be good to yourselves, be kind to a stranger,
and as always. be careful out there.

Edd

Posted by Edd at 5:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Philadelphia, PA                                                          12 September 2005

                                                           The trouble with being poor is that
                                                                      it takes up all of your time.
                                                                                 - Willem de Kooning

Hi all,

So, you want to be prepared for the “Big One”.  Depending on where you live that one would be perhaps a flood.  Now, how did that come into your mind first?  Or maybe the next big one is an earthquake. Everybody says it is coming – the Mother of all Rockers.  And you just can’t be too careful.  The three largest earthquakes in American history occurred not on the Pacific Coast, but right smack dab in the heartland on the New Madrid Fault.
Then of course there is al-Qaeda.  And the “Biologicals”, and the “Dirty Bombs”, and there is always the “Chemicals”.  So, we have to be prepared.
Another thing to remember – is it me, or is there a lot of stuff to remember when disaster strikes?  Another thing to remember is that the federal government, well FEMA anyway, is three days away from helping you.  Or is it five days?  Can't remember.  Probably not three days away if you are in Washington, DC.  Maybe only two.  But for sure three days away if the big one shakes Arkansas on up through Missouri, like it did back in 1811.  Oh, and did I tell you? that quake lasted two years.

All right enough already.  Whatever it is, it just happened.  Power?  Knocked out.  Water? Maybe for a while. Heat?  Maybe, but the gas pipes might have burst.  First responders?  There out there somewhere, just not where you are.  OK, you’re lucky this time.  You are home.  You are prepared.  Not only are you prepared, but you are very prepared.  You read all the alerts: for at least three days you will be on your own.  There will be no cavalry coming over the hill.  At least not when you need it.

Not a problem.  Why just the other day, tech-savvy savant that you are, you went on-line and ordered four days worth of freeze dried emergency food that will keep for months, maybe years.  It arrived nicely packaged.  You stocked up on plenty of water – five, no make that six, five-gallon bottles.  You went to the hardware store to stock up on some emergency equipment as well.  You are sitting pretty.  You, your spouse, and your two kids – high and dry, fat and happy

So let’s do some math** (hopefully no one will check it):
Here’s what you ordered from the emergency food store on-line (oh, and by the way, dear reader, don’t try this at home, the site is out of stock of almost everything right now.)

                Food entries:         16 freeze dried meals  @ $5.29 each        $84.64
                                                 2 larger meal sets @ 26.46 each          $52.92
                                               (just in case you have unexpected company)       
                Water:                  6 5-gallon bottles $7.99 each                  $47.94
Subtotal                                                                                                $185.50
Then there are the emergency supplies from the hardware store:
                                            Flashlight                                               $21.99
                                            Batteries                                                 $16.49
                                            Portable radio                                        $25.00
                                            Candles                                                   $12.75
                                            Oil lamp (see you are prepared!)        $12.79
                                            Oil for lamp (details…)                        $4.99
Blankets, clothes, sleeping bags/bedding:
You already have plenty to spare in your closets.                          no charge

Total (rounded off)                                                                            $280.00

Now then.  Imagine that you are a single mother with three kids at home.  You have read the alerts from FEMA and you want to do the right thing, the safe thing, for you and your children.  You read on the FEMA site all the food items you will need, so off you go to the supermarket to do some price checking. 
Here is your list:
                Canned meats:            4 spam@ $2.99 each                        $11.96
                                                      4 tuna @ 1.29 each                       $5.16
                Fruit bars                    (you skip that one)
                Cereal                         2 boxes @ 4.79 each                         $9.58
                Peanut butter              1 jar @ 3.50                                     $3.50
                Nuts                            2 cans @ 3.69 each                           $7.38
                Crackers                      2 boxes @ 3.99 each                         $7.98
                Juice                           you have some of that already
                Canned milk                4 cans @ 3.19 each                         $12.76
                Hi-energy foods           skip that
                Vitamins                     1 jar                                                   $4.99
                Water                         2 bottles                                            $15.98
Subtotal (not rounded- every penny counts)                                       $79.29

If you have infants:
                Food                           six pack of baby food                       $9.99
                Wipes                         1 package                                        $10.99
                Diapers                       1 large package                              $29.99   

Sub sub Total ( just like in the supermarket)                                    $130.26   
So now lets add in the trip to the hardware store:
                Flash light (a cheaper one)                                                $12.00
                Batteries (a smaller pack)                                                   $6.00
                Candles (won’t use them long at night)                               $4.00
Blankets, clothes, sleeping bags/bedding:
    You don't have any to spare.
    Hopefully nothing is too damaged.                                               no charge

Total:                                                                                                 $152.26

Finally, let’s do some more math:
You, Mr. Fat and your spouse, Ms. Happy, have pretty good jobs.  Your combined income is just about $80,000.  You have a mortgage, car payments, insurance, student loans, yada yada.  You are doing all right, though.  You have a little extra money that you save every month.  And you have enough for a vacation (a week being Disneyed and another week to see the grandparents at Christmas).  Before taxes, you earn about $900 a week each.  On a good week you will take home $1300 combined.  At that rate, the emergency kit tucked away in the garage cost you and your spouse a little more than one day’s wages each (17.25 hours). 

280 bucks is not easy street, for sure.  It's a car payment.  It's clothes for the kids.  It's a new garage door.  It's not nothing, but not that much of a pinch either.

Now back to being that single mother.  You, Single Mom, make $8 an hour.  Before taxes you bring in $320 a week.  Let’s be generous and say that you get to keep about $280 of that.  You have the rent to pay.  And childcare.  You don't have insurance.  Water’s included in the rent (thank God!), but not the electric bill (no AC this summer).  At this rate you will need to invest more than two days of your pay (21.75 hours) to stock that emergency kit.  Of course it won’t be as well stocked, and it won’t last as long as Mr F& Ms H's, so you will need to restock it from time to time.  And you will have to resist the temptation to go into the basement and take out the package of disposable diapers and some of the groceries stored there.   But you’re pretty disciplined.  You have to be – you have three little ones depending on you.

Then again, $152.26 is just about what you owe to the electric company (the bill is overdue by the way), and it is what the dentist wanted to fix your tooth.  It's a big chunk of what your monthly bus pass costs, too.  It's a lot of groceries.  And it is not going to happen.

So there you have it.  See how easy it is to be prepared.  Who needs government when you have yourself to take care of...  well, to take care of yourself?    It just takes a little planning, a little forethought.  What’s the big deal?

Then again, you may not be home when disaster strikes.   You, Mr. Fat or Ms. Happy, tech-savvy savant that you are, may be on a service call when the "Big One" hits.  You may find yourself stranded in a strange neighborhood in a basement with a single mother and her three kids for a few days.

Be careful out there, and of course, be prepared.

Edd

*  Semper Paratis (Aways Ready) is the US Coast Guard motto.
** Sorry about the columns not lining up.  Microsoft Word does not play well with other programs.

Posted by Edd at 4:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Philadelphia, PA                                                                                    2 September 2005

Hi all,

Finally, I have reached outrage fatigue.  Hope a second wave hits soon, of outrage I mean.  We will need it.

The race and class wars are not over in this country yet.  Those wars were subsumed by the so-called war on terror.  They’re back for yet another generation to wrestle with.

And the ruthlessness that snarls just behind the smug mask of compassionate conservatism is now showing its sharp teeth, its well-manicured claws.

For a quarter century now we have heard a constant drumbeat about the power of the individual, and how little we need of government. 
We now see what happens when the basic governmental responsibilities have been systematically abdicated, outsourced and privatized.
And we now know again (as if for the first time) what happens when we do act as if we are islands after all, entire unto ourselves. 

We have yet to count the casualties. 
We have yet to see the true level of carnage.

The complete calculus of suffering is still undetermined.  Once the human loss is calculated, and the disease threats have been assessed, and the property costs tallied, many will think that is that.

There are others, though, with hearts larger than most, who will return to their cities and then continue with the calculations.  They will take notice of...
        how many pets were sacrificed
        how much wildlife was unable to flee
        how many trees are lost forever
        how many of the details that make up the tides that shape their everyday lives          were swept away
            the barber, who knew how to cut your hair without asking, is gone
            the dry cleaner, who got that stain out that you thought was permanent,                      does not open her doors again
            the corner grocer, whose family was starting over here in America, is now                    starting over somewhere else here in America
            the car mechanic, who checked your brakes even when you didn't ask him                      to, his garage is closed
            the girl down the street, who could watch your kids for an hour because she                     is the girl down the street you once were at her age, she is not down the                     street anymore

And when we believe we, as citizens of this wounded nation, have completed these calculations, then maybe we can find our third wave of outrage, as we continue to do yet even more arithmetic.

Much love, and be careful out there.
Edd

Posted by Edd at 2:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

                                                        3/11/02

Hi all,

This day marks the six-month since the attack on the WTC.  It is a bit like the Kennedy asassination in which everyone recalls where they were when they first learned of the attack.  As for me, I was sitting on A’s porch in Philadelphia writing my Morning Pages when she called me inside.  She had heard about the attack on the radio and had already turned on the television by the time I came in.  I stood there transfixed as the second plane hit the building.  A few minutes later A asked me if I thought I should call Matt.  That question pulled me out of my daze and I began the frantic ritual of continually redialing the phone as I heard the predictable busy signal.

It all seems so long ago now – even though it was only a few months back.  So much has happened.  Already I, like so many others, am adjusting to the “new realities”.  To say that the world will never be the same seems trite.  The world is never the same ever.  No more or less so now.  What is “the world” anyway?  How is the world different from the earth?  The answer, as usual, may come from the word itself.  The Old English is “weorold”, but at its root is “wi-ro”, which means man.  And this root is itself a derivative of “we-ie”, which means vital force.

The “world” is a human construct to hold within it our limited understanding of what it means to be alive.  “The world” is really “my world”.  It has very little to do with anything out there.  My world changed dramatically that day, but the change itself was not new; it’s just that the drama was remarkable, and the tragedy unspeakable.

Each if us is a world unto ourselves.  Maybe that is what I was feeling last night as I watched the 9/11 documentary on television.  The crashing sounds of the bodies as they rained down from the top floors of the building and pounded thunderously onto the lobby roof or onto the sidewalk – that is what stays with me.  These were the sounds of whole worlds coming to an end, entire universes teeming with memories and aspirations, profound loves and petty judgments.  All ending with a sudden and final force, a powerful punctuation that said: I was here.  I mattered.  I am now no longer. This vital force is no more.

When a world ends in its own time it can be a cause for celebration, like a giant star that goes super-nova having used up its allotted energy.  Such a life shines brightly in our memories as a life well lived, as a world well made, and well used.  It is only when worlds are ripped away violently and prematurely that I feel the earth shudder as if the falling bodies bruise and wound her with each violent impact.  Yet the earth endures.  Ever the mother, she absorbs those bodies into herself and creates whole new worlds in due time.

I feel such a heavy sadness when I think of all the suffering that comes from these violent outcroppings that desecrate “our world”.  Now as before, there will be more wounds and suffering for generations until the anguish recedes into story and myth.  In the passing of time it is always that way - the way The Iliad is not about anybody; no one really is wounded or dies.  It is now a story, the original living, breathing actors in that story no longer breathe, no longer bleed.  All memory and story, only still alive because it is story so well told.

But until this all recedes into story there will be much suffering.  And our responses to what has happened will no doubt continue to end more worlds prematurely as well.  Even today the earth absorbs more blows to her own body, as bombs rain down on other worlds.  All the while, it is as if bodies rain down on my own world as well.

Edd

Posted by Edd at 8:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

12 September 2001
Philadelphia, PA  USA

Some thoughts the day after...

Usually, I spend the first hour or so in the morning with my Morning Pages.  That didn't happen today.  Instead, I feel compelled to mark this day with a short note to my friends - many of whom seem so far away right now.

A few weeks ago I was driving up the New Jersey Turnpike and I kept looking over at the World Trade Center.  I couldn't not look at those two towers.  It was the last time I would ever see that skyline.  Once again the illusion of permanence was shattered.  Once again I came to think of the Buddha's comment about change - that fate moves like the swish of a horse's tail.

As it happens, over the weekend I had just finished reading The Sunflower, Simon Wiesenthal's story about forgiveness.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, he tells the story of a time, as a concentration camp prisoner and slave laborer in Nazi occupied Poland, when he was taken to meet an SS soldier who was dying.  The soldier wanted to tell his story - a story full of horrible atrocity - to a Jew (pretty much any Jew) in order to seek forgiveness.  After hearing the story, the young prisoner left the room without speaking, without uttering the words of consolation the soldier was seeking before his impending death.  The author then asked the provocative question: What would you have done?  The second part of the book is a compilation of responses from all sorts of bright, thoughtful people.

I was moved by the story as well as by many of the responses, but the one from the Dalai Lama emerged yesterday while watching those terrible images.  He wrote of a time when he greeted a fellow monk who had endured nineteen years of unspeakable torment while imprisoned by the Chinese government.  The Dalai Lama asked him what he feared most.  His response surprised his holiness probably as much as it did me upon reading it.  The monk said that what he feared most was the possibility of losing his compassion for the Chinese.

There was much talk in the book about who has the authority to forgive.  Many Jews believe that only those directly wronged may forgive someone.  Christians felt that it was possible for the listener to "forgive" in someone else's name, to allow for the possibility of redemption.  If they were still alive, my theology professors would attest to the fact that I am not a Biblical scholar, not have I mastered the Talmud or the Koran.  I'll leave such daunting tasks to greater minds than mine.  As a fellow pilgrim in this world, though, I have some notions not about forgiveness, but about compassion.

I wonder at the cycle of violence that we are spiraling into.  I also wonder where the bottom of this dark well is.  I fear what we will beget when the inevitable revenge surfaces.  I worry that we will stifle any urge for self-inquiry by creating impossible polarities.  I am deeply concerned about the awful stereotypes that are becoming so ingrained in us about the peoples of the Middle East.  I fear that we will lose sight of our common humanity, our "inter-being" as Thich Nhat Hahn calls it.

I marvel at how Ibrahim Abusheikh, a Palestinian who works in a youth department of the Ministry of Sports in Gaza, was able to move beyond the immediacy of his own plight when he said, "We bury our dead every day.  We know how they feel.  We condemned what happened in the United States."  I wonder if it is because he works with youth everyday that he is able to move beyond the limitations of time and space, to see connections where others only see chasms.

I have some hopes as well.

I hope that the next time I see images of Israeli women grieving over their children I will say, "We bury our dead every day.  We know how they feel."

Or, when I see Palestinian men carrying a flag-draped body, I will be able to say, "We bury our dead every day.  We know how they feel."

I hope for the same words to come from my lips when I see the carnage in Africa, or the "Troubles" in Ireland. 

Finally, I hope that wherever I see suffering in the world I will hold in my heart the same intention as the Tibetan monk  - to sustain my capacity to feel deep compassion for all beings, even those who are not capable of feeling compassion in their own hearts for me.

Posted by Edd at 11:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)