It's Cornerstones of Liberty Thing

Dear America,

"...America has always been the land of dreams because America is a nation of true believers. When the pilgrims landed at Plymouth they prayed. When the founders wrote the Declaration of Independence, they invoked our creator four times, because in America we don't worship government we worship God. That is why our elected officials put their hands on the Bible and say, 'So help me God,' as they take the oath of office. It is why our currency proudly declares, 'In God we trust,' and it's why we proudly proclaim that we are one nation under God every time we say the pledge of allegiance. 

The story of America is the story of an adventure that began with deep faith, big dreams and humble beginnings..."

...Just a snapshot for the family album -- for more of the Trump commencement speech, @Liberty University.....hit this: May 13, 2017 .

So given it's Mother's Day, and given little miss gthang here just loves taking twists and turns with the news...doesn't  this soft curve in the commencement describe somewhat just how motherhood happens?  The triad of deep faith, big dreams, and humble beginnings align with a bang --  no matter how frightening the reality of being totally unprepared for such a big adventure may be; and no matter if the little pitter-patter of little matter was fully expected, maybe even planned, or not --  when that scrumptious little thing pops out, we step forward in faith one sleepless night at a time. [And no worries for the naysayers; God made it -- the creation process -- so natural and beautiful and wonderful, that even non-believers can do it, too...and isn't that brilliant and awfully gracious.]

For those of us who live and love and have our being through this kind of faith in God, we often compare it to building our house upon The Rock -- a foundation of principles, and precepts, and prayer, that was not only preordained in prophecy as written in the Bible, but with every brick and mortar and commandment kept, all these things combine to create the very cornerstone of our existence!  From the pilgrims to the modern day family, the story of America has grown 300 million strong, all in God's image, predominantly as a nation of believers (fact); and as Joel Osteen proclaimed just this morning, we should also recognize that each one of us is "God's favorite child."   For more of that good stuff, just go to sermon #725, "Knowing you are Loved."

But back to the family corner stone:  Cornerstones are essential -- for everything else depends upon planting that puppy correctly, right from the start.   It's supreme purpose is to anchor -- the longevity and security of something requires its unyielding existence and resistance to erosion; we are speaking of firm, unshakable, remarkable and indispensable, pillars of civilization kinds of things.

This goes to the heart of the profound and enlightened vision of our founders -- to co-create with God one sleepless night at  time, through a revolution and beyond.

And since today is all about mothers (fathers will have their day,all in due time my pretties), dare we agree that from the start -- the makings of faith, dreams, and humble beginnings begin to grow up, too, expanding ever so slowly into the roll,  revealing every unknown, with the same great American spirit that embraces risk and reward and all;  eventually, with a whole lot of luck, dexterity, and grace, crowning mom another family cornerstone becomes fit for a Hallmark holiday,  

Relating to all things household:   having the omniscience and omnipotence of knowing where everything is on any given day, from whipping up a splendid hot meal with nothing but leftovers and a well honed pantry, from having the capacity to understand the incomprehensible, to right the wrongs, and  even get a giggle in the most challenging of times, mama becomes the glue of everything and nothing within the confines of family.  In hindsight of my own childhood, even the little bit of yelling and the screaming could be strangely deemed something out of sainthood.  

[Just love this op-ed, Our Mothers As We Never Saw Them, from Edan Lepucki, in the New York Times.  Even though it's truly a good read, in full disclosure, my googly-eyed trance is more because my own girl sent me this link.  Being on opposite coasts this Mother's Day almost goes unnoticed with these feelings of connectivity and mutual appreciation bridging the miles and under-girding our bond ...how I love that girl so.] 

Just as President Trump noted,"[W]hen the founders wrote the Declaration of Independence, they invoked our creator four times, because in America we don't worship government we worship God,"   and thereby, the responsibility of teaching the nation's cornerstones, such as this, falls directly to the parent(s).  And having said that, even the First Amendment of the Constitution can only go so far -- for every generation must FIGHT for it --- taking the time to understand it, to respect it, to protect it, securing it six ways to Sunday, allowing it to fully permeate the hearts and minds of every American who comes along, believers and non-believers alike.  It is through this kind of process of citizenship by osmosis, that we celebrate being active participants who have a duty to be in the constant motion of elevating our virtues and passing it on to all we come in contact.  

It's a constant push, really; almost feels like it will never end.

It's like the most magnificent push ever....with the kind of strength and force only heaven could conceive, something unseen becomes known -- even given a name.   Hello, my name is First Amendment; hello, my name is America; hello, my name is Self-Reliance; hello, my name is Independence; hello, my name is FREEDOM OF Religion, middle name FREE EXERCISE THEREOF; hello, my name is Favorite, Exceptional, You Name It!  It's a fun game, isn't it... think a mom made it up when she ran out of Cheerios and there was still another 45 minutes of errands to run with two hungry mouths to feed and kicking and screaming in the backseat.

[ooooh which reminds of another good read...The Left's War on Free Speech, by Kimberley Strassel.  It is in April's  Imprimis from Hillsdale College.  The well researched narrative on how The Left intimidates and threatens and bullies its way through the world, from sea to shining sea, taking a jack hammer to the nation's cornerstones is only one aspect of it; the best part is how she begins -- telling a story from around her own dinner table.  so precious, so precious]

Just as nature and nurture begins with the Creator, let's be real -- in oh so many ways, the day to day operations are carried out on the backs and side hips of moms everywhere; and this just so happens to be one day out of 365 when we get to honor that.   And oh honey, your mama doesn't need a thing, I'll just make a sandwich or something and watch a little T.V. ;)

The thing is, a good and decent culture --  one that mirrors our Maker and is modeled after the examples given by our elders, one that teaches the finer points of America's exceptional foundation -- is built upon the cornerstones, one mama at a time, from generation to generation.  It's a rather simple operation if left free to be you and me.   And while fearing the boys within range are getting their fruit-of-the -loom's in a wad, let not your hearts be troubled -- when Father's Day arrives, this girl won't have to say much of anything --  just a sex change later and it's a  transcontinental goldenboy blog.  bada boom bada bing (teehee  I know -- sometimes, I even amaze myself.)

In closing, let's return to Liberty and one more thing from Trump:

I know that each of you will be a warrior for the truth, will be a warrior for our country, and for your family. I know that each of you will do what is right, not what is the easy way, and that you will be true to yourself, and your country, and your beliefs. In my short time in Washington I've seen firsthand how the system is broken. A small group of failed voices who think they know everything and understand everyone want to tell everybody else how to live and what to do and how to think. But you aren't going to let other people tell you what you believe, especially when you know that you're right.

amen to that.  amen to that.

And last, but not least, I love you, mama -- may my kisses cross the blogosphere and greet you, today and every day, for I AM nothing without you.

Make it a Good Day, G

It's One Kind Day Amid the Chaos Thing

Dear America,

"Hope that, in future, 

all is well, 

everyone eats free, 

no one must work, 

all just sit around

 feeling love

 for one another."  

-- George Saunders

It was just something I read on the side of a Chipotle take-out brown bag.

And from there, my mind drifted -- separating from the overwhelming ills of the world, falling away from all the troubles, at home and abroad -- and nearly in tandem, with free abandon and wild desperation, finding myself believing that for one minute the entire notion may one day come true.

But here's the thing, I just can't think about this world, the world we actually live in today,  or this America, for one more minute without my head exploding.  Not today, not yesterday, or the day before that, and most likely as things seem to be going,  tomorrow.

Thankfully,

when looking into this George Saunders more deeply, my jaded G found a certain salvation, as if by divine intervention.

[You know how It works around here...we always get what we need.  God knows.  Matter of fact, God knows everything before we know it, before we even think it.]

so the meandering continued to a piece at The Huffington Post (April 2014), by Claire Fallon... giving a short review on George and a few thoughts on kindness...

and it was good.

really good.

Now Claire dropped in the video of George telling a story about "ellen" -- but after thinking about it for awhile, and you know, given my undying love of the written word and being a card-carrying sucker for a wee bit more kindness in this world --  I felt a total reprint here was in order. [And, you know, order over chaos always wins...eventually.]

So, as Claire directed, we go to a column by Joel Lovell, at The New York Times, dating back to last summer, George Saunders's Advice to Graduates  [and yes, truly fitting, given this is the summer of celebration of my own little graduate]:  

happy reading....

Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).

And I intend to respect that tradition.

Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.

So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?” (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.

But here’s something I do regret:

In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”

Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.

And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.

One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.

End of story.

Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.

But still. It bothers me.

So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:

What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.

Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded . . . sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.

Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?

Those who were kindest to you, I bet.

It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.

Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?

Here’s what I think:

Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).

Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.

So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?

Well, yes, good question.

Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.

So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition — recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.

Because kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.

One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish — how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”

And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.

Congratulations, by the way.

When young, we’re anxious — understandably — to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you — in particular you, of this generation — may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can . . .

And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously — as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.

Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.

So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf — seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.

Do all the other things, the ambitious things — travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality — your soul, if you will — is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.

And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.

Congratulations, Class of 2013.

I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.

and to think, this all started with one really damn good Barbacoa burrito with extra guacamole...

Make it a Good Day, G