My dad is an old school urbanist and I too have the bug. For some reason both of us seem to think that it is our responsibility to make sure our City is OK. I drew this picture for him for his birthday.
There are people from whom I expect some level of deception - politicians, sales people, PR people. When I listen to people in those positions, I do so with a grain of salt. In some cases, with a truckload. When I hear deception on their tongues, I am neither hurt nor surprised.
But recently I've discovered that even people I thought were trustworthy are actually just as deceptive, and maybe even more so. I've always thought of the leaders of the online community as somehow above the spin common to those who are paid to produce a public opinion. I was wrong. And strangely, I am both hurt and surprised.
Somewhere the championing of the truth turned into the championing of a cause. The importance of transparency became just another tool in the spin kit, a way to discredit, instead of revealing. Telling a good story became more important than finding the facts. The important feeling of being in the center of attention became more seductive than the message itself.
What stings most of all is that the cause is one that I hold incredibly dear. We stand on the verge of losing something that I love, and I am mourning. When I hear the slick propaganda I feel sickened, as if what is precious to me is being pissed on, by the very people I trusted to protect it. Even if we win this one, it will be a bitter tasting win, rank with the smell of lies and character defamation, a wound in our greater community that will take a long time to heal, if ever.
I'm disillusioned. I sit by the sidelines and watch both the truth and the public being manipulated. I can't speak out, or dare challenge the misinformation. If I publish a critique on a "friendly" forum, any deviation from the narrative being created by people I once admired will be ruthlessly attacked by those that follow them. If I publish a critique in any of the alternative venues available to me I will be further damaging both the cause and my friendships. I'm left with my private blog, with it's reassuring readership of three. No keywords that google could pick up. Everything vague.
So, lesson learned. Even the leaders of the online community are politicians, PR people, sales people. Nothing better. Nothing nobler. What a shame.
When I heard the news it was as if a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders, something I've been carrying so long, I forgot it was not part of me. A sickening sense of responsibility, a dark shadow of fear... all lifted so quickly I had to sit down and catch my breath.
20 years, and it is now over. So much pain, and shame and rage. The legacy of a rape and a trial, over and done forever, with Death as the guarantee.
Julia and I walked down to the water and tossed something old and ugly out to sea - a symbol of all that we were releasing. It was a casual ritual. No casting of circles or conjuring of witnesses. Just a discarding.
The summer heat wave reminds me of my journeys to hotter places.
I remember travelling the length of beautiful Vietnam, the silk of my Au Dai like a gentle breeze against my flesh, the sharp smell of eucalyptus oil on my temples and aching muscles.
I remember passing through the Three Furnaces of China on a crowded river boat on the Yangtze, drinking cup after cup of hot tea from the omnipresent red thermos, and glorying in the privacy under the cold showers piped up from the river below.
And I remember settling in to a beautiful log house with a sweet man in Georgia for a Southern Summer romance.
They are all body memories, slipping over my lethargic limbs like honey, taking advantage of the mental fragmentation caused by this amazing heat. These are memories of incredible beauty, and resilience, of love and pleasure, of the bone weariness of travellers, and the fantastic weight of history, of exotic flavours in my mouth, and strong hands on my skin.
"Those lazy crazy hazy days of summer..."
I'm a part of the water cycle again... sweat pouring off, clean, cold, water pouring in. The little pink office where I am due during the hottest part of the day is an oven, and we are all baking there together.
And I love it.
My skin has turned brown, my feet are bare and leathery against the thirsty soil. I'm delighting in fresh food, and dappled garden light, in warm thundershowers, and all that goes with it. With just the screens on the patio door, it is as if I am sleeping under the stars. I think I will go do that now.
From Iran, a river of protest in their Green revolution. I find this so moving, not the least because of the role that social media has taken in bringing this momentous piece of history to the world. Following this river of protest is an ocean of support coming from all over the world, streaming through twitter feeds, blogs comments, and every other facet of the internet. Comments like "You all take my breath away and make me appreciate what we have here so much more. Don't let up - the world is with you!" are streaming in from all over the world.
For me, the apocalypse happened pretty much on schedule. Almost a decade later, the war is still on, apparently. I'm not always the angry mother owl though. Dispassion comes with experience.
I wrote this on New Year's Eve, 2000, at the Studio...
The sunbeam is gone, but I'm still here, enjoying final golden light across the green, cascading as it does from wysteria to rhubarb from magnificent fern to the sand at my feet. I'm still here, watching the flowers as they wilt; their pollen, spent; their wild, colourful flirtations suddenly irrelavent as they swell with fruit.
Recent events within my community remind me of the resiliency of what we have built. It seems that those who can, do. And there is usually someone who can, and it is not only me.
I've been thinking about social bugs again. Ants and termites, bees and wasps... The more I find out about these amazing creatures, the more I question my own species - our supposed technological dominance, our economies and cultures, even our very individuality!
Why do humans separate ourselves from animals? We have this idea that humans are the pinnacle of God's Creation, so we are hardly surprised that we have this technology that allows us to take dominion over the earth. But if technology is evidence of divine favour, then there are God's fingerprints elsewhere in the clay of the universe.
Human engineering pales next to the marvels of 15 foot tall termite mounds in West Africa. These Gothic wonders regulate temperature, humidity, and air quality with humbling precision. They have to, they have farms in those mounds where they cultivate a fungus which will die if the temperature varies by 2 degrees!
And Termites aren't the only social insects with fungus gardens. Leaf cutter ants have had agricultural systems for 50 million years, kept pest free by utilizing a bacteria stew containing half of all the antibiotics used in human medicine. We've had antibiotics for about 60 years...
Somehow within these insect societies, technologies have developed that we are only now just beginning to fathom. We still have no idea how they communicate between individuals - or even if the colony can be rightly said to even consist of individuals, or are better thought of as a super-organism. Technology, insect, fungus, bacteria - all part of one being. After all, we humans are also super-organisms. We are carrying around an entire microbiome, which includes thousands of species, many of them necessary for our survival. We have 1,000 times as many microbial genes as human genes.” Are we not also colonies?
And what about our societies? Over the last very short while (in evolutionary terms) we have suddenly began acting very much like social insects. We developed agriculture, and domestication of other species, we embarked on vast engineering projects called urban centres, and are swarming to them at an accelerating pace, and now we are growing our nervous system, the network that communicates to the parts of the whole - the mediascape, the information highway, cyberspace. Social insects seem to communicate by sending pheromone signals. Humans use electrical signals. But what intelligence is directing the show? Is the same hand behind the technologies of the ants and the technologies of mankind? Is there a choreographer?
I came across this interview with William Gibson, that prophet of cyberspace.
Gibson about withdrawing cash from an ATM in a foreign country "just for a minute it struck me as miraculous and kind of spooky. I had that feeling, that post geographical feeling."
Yes! Exactly!
Gibson goes on...
"I think we've been growing a sort of prosthetic extended nervous system for the past 100 years. It's really starting to take, it's really, really starting to grow now. You are dealing with something that has penetrated every corner of the human universe now."
And there's the crux of it. It is as if there is a bigger organism forming around us - a built macro-organism, a cultural construct that is reshaping our species. This organizing principle is manifesting in technologies, in symbiotic relationships with other species, and in the compulsion to swarm. The communications technology that forms this macro-organism's nervous system is just now forming as we watch. The hive is coalescing! Like Gibson said ... kind of spooky, but miraculous too
Yep... forming as we watch...
That fantastic new prosthetic nervous system has evolved within a few generations from a postal system, to a network that collapses time and space - allowing instant communications and transactions across space, language, and culture. At the cutting edge are the leaps forward; iphone, twitter, facebook, google wave, all geared towards making the network more intense, and more immediate.
"Epic" is my favourite piece of science fiction written this decade. Written in 2004, it called the way the mediascape would evolve with astonishing perception. Five years later, we are watching it come true.
The next leap forward... Google Wave... As I watched the developer preview my jaw was on the floor. More immediate, and more intense - oh yes that nicely describes Google Wave, and the future of media.
Of course, now I find that none of my thoughts are original - a fellow named Joel de Rosnay is talking about this same macro-organism, made up of our species, its culture, and its technology. His book on the subject, "The Macroscope" is available online, and is next on my reading list. I found it when I came across the following quote while surfing...
"On Joel de Rosnay’s postulation of man’s future as cybiont, or an amalgamation of humanity, technology and nature as one synergistic organism: "It’s one of the more inspiring visions. Life keeps finding ways to cooperate in larger symbiotic wholes. It’s like we’re creating a new cell at the scale of a planet. That seems to me an inspiring vision that many people can understand both theologically and religiously. There’s an illustration in my book — more complex forms of life going up a staircase. The neanderthal’s standing behind a guy in a suit, saying ‘I was wondering when you were going to notice that there were more steps.’"
I think, that if I was allowed to, I could sit still and say nothing for a very very long time. I think I would be quite happy that way. My guilty secret is that when no one is around, I often turn off the music, and just enjoy the silence. My favourite days are the days I have very little interaction, and am able to sit still in the dappled sunlight of my garden, watching the ants scurrying back and forth. These days are magic. These are the days I get to just be.
I was reading an article about the search for compassion. I felt like emailing the author to tell him, "Oh hey, it's over here at my place. Come and fill your boots. I've got plenty - bring a bucket!"
It seems hard to imagine people questing to suffer with their fellow man. In my garden, compassion grows like a weed, volunteering itself in every nook and crany, winding its way between more useful plants, seeding itself with abandon. Ahimsa, Karuna, Einfuhlung - a rose by any other name - Compassion comes crowding out my borders, cascading over every rock wall, merrily entwining itself around my heart when I bend over to water the lettuce. It is a fine line between being able to see someone else's pain and being able to feel it with them. I cross that line daily, and it leaves me with a tangle of emotions to sort and prune.
I'm feeling in stereo this fine spring. My loyalties are all over the map. I'm fiercely defensive, and ready to do battle, but given that I love everyone involved, instead all I can do is offer my hand to the people hurting most, and to hold it as steady as I can.
I didn't ask for it. But this particular weed is welcome in my backyard.
Well, I've moved all my old posts from tribe over to here. I don't know that I will actually update this blog but hey... who knows how long tribe will be up? Some of this trail of cookie crumbs I would rather not lose.
Recently as I have been walking around downtown I've had the song Ave Maria in my head and on my lips. I wander around with my own personal radio in my head complete with a full symphony orchestra and I am surprised at how well I know every lilt and tremble, and every soaring moment of this song despite the fact that I don't know the words. I suppose I must look like one of the crazy people, drifting through the crowd in my long black coat singing Ave Maria. But thats OK, it is a beautiful song to have stuck in my head. I'd like to keep it for a while.
Did you know that Ave Maria - which we all know as a German or Italian song, was originally a translation from an English poem? It was Sir Walter Scott's The Lady of the Lake which Schubert translated to the version that we are familiar with. It was then covered by people like Beethovan (my favourite version) and Pavarotti (also lovely!) Pavarotti sings the Latin version which as far as I can tell is just the Hail Mary Full of Grace prayer, not a translation of the Lady of the Lake like the German. The original words are something else... if I can memorize them I might sing them instead of the lalalala that I belt out now.
Walter Scott's Original from "The Lady of the Lake"
Ave Maria! maiden mild! Listen to a maiden's prayer! Thou canst hear though from the wild, Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banish'd, outcast and reviled - Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; Mother, hear a suppliant child! Ave Maria!
Ave Maria! undefiled! The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem this down of eider piled, If thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; Mother, list a suppliant child! Ave Maria!
Ave Maria! stainless styled! Foul demons of the earth and air, From this their wonted haunt exiled, Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care, Beneath thy guidance reconciled; Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, And for a father hear a child! Ave Maria!
This letter was in the Times Colonist. It really made me smile!
Parrot took role of intercom, cellphone Times Colonist Published: Sunday, September 09, 2007
When I was growing up in Victoria in the 1920s and 1930s, there was a stream that ran along the north side of View Street behind where London Drugs is now.
There were several small homes on that side of the street and most of them had little bridges or catwalks to their front doors.
The family that lived directly across from my dad's business, the Pacific Auto Wrecking Company, had a parrot whose favourite perch was on their bridge railing.
This was before intercoms or cellphones, so when Dad wanted one of his employees, he would whistle -- a special whistle for each chap. The parrot soon learned these and would mimic those whistles at any time of day.
You can imagine the frustration on my dad's and his employees' part as they would go tearing out to find it was only the parrot!
I am sure the parrot learned a few more colourful words as a consequence.
I just watched a remarkable video called The Century of the Self about the life and work of Freud's American Nephew and his role in shaping Modern democracy, consumerism and political manipulation. This is really worth watching!
It's been almost 18 years with my little black familiar. She and I, paired in this universe, through thick and thin. I remember doing tarot readings with her, she was always so interested in any magickal energy and always seemed to know what was appropriate. She loved it when I became a computer geek, sitting on my lap purring for hours a day. We knew each other, her and I.
She's dead here now, I just put her in the box that my new dishwear came in. I will bury her tomorrow morning. She can hunt rats for me, and guard my garden.
.... I wanna tell you 'bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat Comes out of the Virginia swamps Cool and slow with plenty of precision With a back beat narrow and hard to master
Some call it heavenly in it's brilliance Others, mean and rueful of the Western dream I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft We have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping This is the land where the Pharaoh died
The Negroes in the forest brightly feathered They are saying, "Forget the night. Live with us in forests of azure. Out here on the perimeter there are no stars Out here we is stoned - immaculate."
Listen to this, and I'll tell you 'bout the heartache I'll tell you 'bout the heartache and the lose of God I'll tell you 'bout the hopeless night The meager food for souls forgot I'll tell you 'bout the maiden with wrought iron soul
I'll tell you this No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn
I'll tell you 'bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat Soft drivin', slow and mad, like some new language
Now, listen to this, and I'll tell you 'bout the Texas I'll tell you 'bout the Texas Radio I'll tell you 'bout the hopeless night Wandering the Western dream Tell you 'bout the maiden with wrought iron soul
I never had a big brother, but always wanted one. I've borrowed one or two in my life but by far the most significant was Jesse. One thing you can say about that family is they do sure make you feel like part of it. So I've fought with him, and talked with him, and resented him, and loved him to pieces all at the same time, and always, always known that he would defend me if I ever needed it.
Masha, thanks for sharing your family with me. Having your brothers in my life means the world to me. Jesse made me a stronger better person by his imprint on me and my life is richer for having had him pass through it.
I've found myself to be praying (or the witchyness that passes for it) rather alot recently. Thinking about Jesse, I find myself understanding the urge to pray for someone's soul... may he truly rest in peace.
Tonight a dear friend who I rarely see told me he loved me. Not in a romantic way - in a "you are part of my soul" way. There was a silence and in that silence the sense of belonging wrapped around us like the coziest blanket, like a serpentine snuggle. I think that is a good note to fall asleep on this birthday eve. Thirty Five years old and someone loves me, even if I don't see him ever again, this will always be true. Thinking of the various people who have passed through my life, many of whom I am not in regular contact with makes me realise how many there are like that... people I really do love. People who are part of my soul. People who I think of and smile. It is wonderful to be connected again with so many old friends. I hope I never entirely forget the others.
She rode in like a typhoon Full of darkness and wild rage But when I bent to help her dismount I found that her feet were so tiny That by closing my hand I could make one disapear. The moment gone She met my eyes, Hers were all thunder and strength Mine were unspoken question. And She said to me With a voice like fire "The Queen of Swords hobbled Is Hope." I think she laughed And softened there Before she turned away Her sword ready. I stood as if rooted And shivered in the shadow Of the creeping kind Of Dread and Despair. ...... so thats why Hope was the last and worst of the Curses of Pandora's Box!
I have been really enjoying a new forum called "Vibrant Victoria" which tracks (with a fetishistic glee) every new development in our fair city, every urban issue... It is really a fun outlet for me, bringing my computer geekiness together with my urban planning geekiness in a heady brew. For anyone who wonders what is happening, or wants to find out the specifics of some development I encourage you to go register at VV. From the main page you find articles, and a list of new developments, but if you lick on "forums" you find the motherload... Victorians debating each new thing, talking about good restaurants, pubs, entertainment and well, everything Victorian!!!
There is also the Victoria Grid Project, where the city is divided into map grids, one each month... and everyone goes out and photographs them. I know that a few of you might enjoy that project!
I'm so happy, euphoric even. This may sound odd to some of you but.. WOooOOOHOooooooO! the DRAGON is DEAD!
For almost two months now my little video game team has been working on killing this one very challenging dragon. Twice a week we try, and each time we have come very very close only to fail again. Our team has been together 5 years, we are pretty good at working together, but this has been very demoralising for us. Never before have we been stuck like this on one thing for so long. Anyhow, this Sunday we gathered to attempt this kill yet again, our numbers were low, because losing all the time just ain't fun. But we didn't loose, we won! The teamwork was flawless, no one screwed up their role, the dragon fell beneath our swords. And the jubilation was awesome! So was the flood of congratulations from other gamers as the word spread of what we had done.
I was a baroness for a night, or some other petty royalty I am sure. There was a fairy princess at my table, one of the old fashioned kind, a fae. She was sparkly and glittered when she spoke, her eyes shone with healthy, happy light and humour. She was the perfect dinner companion. The food was also magical, as was the service, of course, being that we were dining at the Empress. I think one of the best feelings in the world is being in love with your friends.
Last night, I met Stephen Lewis, and attended his lecture up at UVic. For those of you who don't know Stephen Lewis, here is a link to his website: www.stephenlewisfoundation.orgWhat I have to say about him is, this man is a national treasure. He makes me proud to be a Canadian in this world. Stephen is the UN's special envoy to Africa for HIV/AIDS. This means that he is on the front lines in one of the most devestating realities to face the world today. 25 million people dead and counting. The heroisms of Grandmothers raising orphans the middle generation dead. And throughout Canada hundreds and hundreds of grandmothers standing up to support the grandmothers in Africa. Little old ladies taking over the earth, loving hands, unfailing strength. It wasn't the army of them that seized power, as imagined. It was that when it came down to it, they are who is left.
He gave an amazing speech. He talked about globalization or rather, global issues, and how we need to keep fighting, keep supporting, keep caring because without that, we are lost. He talked about the human condition, and how it seems as though the world cares more for abstract economic models that are disasters on the ground, and for politics and for conflict. He talked about the UN Food program having to cut its calorie provision to populations under seige in Sudan and Darfour. Why? Because they were short the 10 or 20 million dollars it would take to keep these people alive until the conflict is over. Not billions. Millions. The price of a few dozen Victoria homes. And in perspective, the Iraq and Afghanistan war together are costing 10 billion dollars a month.
My mother suggested that this Christmas rather than presents, she donate for each of us to an appropriate cause. She used to say she would do this when we were kids, but I think that was just an object lesson. I like this idea, hijacking the consumer glut in order to do some real good.
I was doing a search for "Sealand" on Google, looking for information about the old Victoria Sealand we all remember. Instead I found the Pricipality of Sealand. Get this!!! I love this!!!
In the late 60s this family went and occupied an abandoned fortress left over from WW2 in the high seas. They declared independance and got it upheld in various courts. They have currency, stamps, a king and queen! They had a war with Holland and Germany after some people kidnapped the prince and took over the island. There is an internet company called HavenCo which operates exclusively on the Island and "Sealand currently has no specific regulations regarding patents, libel, restrictions on political speech, cryptography, restrictions on maintaining customer records, DMCA or music sharing services"
This is so neat, a James Bond movie begging to happen.
Today's offering.... A wing, and a small piece of skull, beak attached. Last week, an entire family of rats, one by one, daddy first, then mommy, then every morning, one little rat. She lays these offerings artfully on the carpet behind my computer for me to find in the morning.
17 years together, she's pretty much deaf now, and has finally got the years to account for her cantankerous behaviour. Funny how intertwined we are, we understand each other quite well, a glance speaks volumes. I've resisted being owned by any man all these years, only to find that somehow I became owned by a cat.
And talked with him, drove around with him and told him stories, and listened to his stories, and got his email address, and attended his lecture on the Amazon Forest. What an amazing man, amazing scholar, and absolutely incredible story teller! I was honored to meet him, but what was best of all was that, remembering how much one of our friends loved his work and how inspired she was by him, I told him about her, and he wrote her a note, and offered to correspond with her. She's going to freak when she sees this. heheheehehe
For anyone who doesn't know who Wade Davis is, or never read Serpent and the Rainbow... here is a link: www.nationalgeographic.com/coun....html This guy was one of my major inspirational figures, a great explorer and story teller.
Everything is fresh. The sunrise from my porch is a gentle creep of gold over a sky of uniform grey. The dark sillouhettes of my evergreens crowd around trying to shelter me from the largeness of the sky. Above them, like a queen, Diana's bow is perched - the crescent moon - huntress in her chariot, a thin sliver of silver. This, with hot coffee, and the prospect of yoga class within the hour, is invigorating. I love living alone.
A little old lady (one of my gang of little old ladies I take the bus with every morning) told me this yesterday : "If I die, and go to heaven, and it is half as beautiful as Victoria, I will be happy. We are truly blessed, my dear."
I have not got this out of my head since she said it. I hear it when I look at the blossoms on the trees, the quality of light behind the ivy covered brick buildings, the sun on the water... It is so beautiful here it makes me feel drunk.
When the opportunity presents itself for you to defeat your enemy, that is the time which you must not do it. There will come a time, in many instances, when the person who hates you most, the person who has misused you most, the person who has gossiped about you most, the person who has spread false rumors about you most, there will come a time when you will have an opportunity to defeat that person. It might be in terms of a recommendation for a job; it might be in terms of helping that person to make some move in life. That's the time you must do it. That is the meaning of love.
In the final analysis, love is not this sentimental something that we talk about. It's not merely an emotional something. Love is creative, understanding goodwill for all men. It is the refusal to defeat any individual. When you rise to the level of love, of its great beauty and power, you seek only to defeat evil systems. Individuals who happen to be caught up in that system, you love, but you seek to defeat the system.
loving your enemies - martin luther king jr. - 1957
My dad is an old school urbanist and I too have the bug. For some reason both of us seem to think that it is our responsibility to make sure our City is OK. I drew this picture for him for his birthday.
