branches up, roots down

“Compassion is generally considered to be a good thing, but I’ve seen people invoke it in a way that seems to turn their brains to mush. “I know Bush is doing bad things, but I do bad things too, and we need to send him love and compassion.” That’s not compassion, that’s Stockholm syndrome, the psychological phenomenon whereby kidnap victims or hostages or abused children come to identify with those who hold power over them, and want to please them.” Starhawk , 2006 Last night I saw the movie “ V for Vendetta ”, a stunning movie in which characters like Bush are dispatched with an intelligent violent efficiency, part of the means justifying an end which is the uprising of the people and the toppling of a totalitarian regime. It’s a movie I will be thinking about for a long time, with lots to say about revolution, terrorism, the power of symbols, and the difference between ideas and people. Although based on a comic, it’s anything but simple, and found myself enjoying it...

On winter solstice our house was filled with friends, feasting and fêting thru the long dark night. The next day we lolled around the house in our pajamas, while up in the mountains of Colorado , my skiing housemate was being broadsided by a snow boarder. She came back to us with a broken leg, a leg that had to be operated on a few weeks back. Still on crutches, she won’t be back on two feet for another month or so. Our community of friends have all provided support and succor, bringing meals, walking her dog, and driving her to the store. My fourteen year old son, Casey, has been especially attentive, always willing to bring a glass of water or carry a load of laundry down the back stairs. Until yesterday, that is. Today is spring equinox, that strange day when light and dark are in perfect balance. I spent the morning mounting a phone campaign to find a doctor who could see my son. He broke his leg yesterday playing Lacrosse, which he was doing to, in his words “to toug...

Last night I dreamt of an earthquake. Being a Californian, I’ve been thru many earthquakes and feel a strange familiarity with them. Every time the earth shakes, I have this “oh, there you are!” kind of feeling, combined with the anxious curiosity of how long and how hard the movement is going to be, or if it’s a jolt, if it will be followed by one much stronger. In my dream, the earthquake was the big one, coming not in one jolt, like some, but a long rolling that increased in intensity. I was at home, and although everything was topsy turvy, the house survived. The rest of the dream focused on discovering that my carriage house had been housing all the stuff from the booth I’ve been involved with for over two decades that makes eggrolls at one of the oldest alternative festivals/fairs in the nation, The Oregon Country Fair . Our city was without electricity or running water, and there was rubble all around. I found myself with my neighbors and some of my friends who’ve been...