Day: August 20, 2013

I was talking with my friend Scott Carrino yesterday, we have become good friends, honest friends and he said he had the sense that after my  work as a journalist, and in corporate media, and coming upstate and to the farm and getting divorced and falling to pieces and putting myself back together again, that I had come to what he called a “crystallizing time”, a time of honesty, authenticity and a sense of clarity about my life. I mumbled something and blushed, I did not know what to say, that kind of praise completely unnerves me and tongue ties me.

I knew what he meant about the crystallizing moments, thought. Joseph Campbell writes that the gift of aging is knowing where you are, of having learned something about life and about a willingness to share it and pass it on. I know where I am, and I do not fool myself into thinking anyone is out there waiting for my wisdom, but it is true that I have become much clearer about life and about how I wish to live it. Tuesday was a grueling day for me, I was setting up some new Open Groups and also dealing with the various financial, transactional and software companies involved in taking credit card  and PayPal subscriptions for my website. It was a vastly more complicated process than I imagined or was prepared for.

This was  not the sort of thing I have ever done before, it is not something I was comfortable doing. All in all, it has taken me two and a half full days work setting up the subscription program, faxing and e-mailing codes, passwords, business certificates, tax returns, bills and the hundred protocol numbers involved. I vaguely remembered when I had a secretary for the first 15 years of my work life, and then a part-time assistant for some years after that. I would have turned it over to them. The loyal techs at Mannix had done their work, it was now my time to do mine. Nowhere else to go, no one else to pay.

Those days of secretaries and assistants are gone, I am the writer, the secretary, the assistant, I am now fully responsible for me, not a bad place to be. My cadre of enablers is gone also, there are other dramas to follow, I have really no choice but to grow up, a pleasure at my age. It took many hours yesterday, but I got it done and was happy that I didn’t lose my temper, didn’t succumb to frustration and kept my perspective. I thought of those uncomfortable people in India, dealing Americans all day and I decided not not be another one of them, despite mishap after mishap. They are the human barriers corporations push in front of spoiled and angry Americans, they are anger absorbers, cannon fodder,  they have no power to change the awful reality of corporate indifference and greed. For me, it is imperative to treat them decently, we are both pawns in the same game, we are on the same side, each of us being manipulated in a different way.

I wish for a world in which these people had real jobs, and I did not have to seek their dehumanizing help in living my life.

When I got uneasy, I took a deep breath. I remembered that it would get done. I remembered that this kind of problem is not really all that serious when you consider the world or my life. I imagined the end result, people subscribing safely and easily. It has come to be. How lucky, I thought, that I would have a subscription system at all, and that I had finally worked out all of the details involved in setting it up.

It is a crystalline time for me, I am conscious of not wasting my life in anger and conflict and frustration, at not bemoaning the real nature of life. I am learning what is important and how to stand in my truth. At the pharmacy, Bridget said she was sorry I had diabetes and I said, no, I am not sorry. I have life, and life happens every day. I am not sorry about life, I am never sorry about life.

Campbell said growing older was one of the richest times in a human life. We have finally learned something, we do not have enough time left to waste it in the many ways human beings squander away their lives – in fear, argument, frustration. I suppose it easier to be authentic as we grow up. We have less left to lose. I welcome my crystalline times. I’m ready.

When I went on insulin, I switched pharmacies, from the giant Rite-Aid that sells cigarettes by the front door to O’Hearn’s Pharmacy on Main Street, a small and funky place presided over by Bridget Cowan, nee O’hearn. O’hearn’s is different from Rite-Aid as my farm is from China., it is a family-owned business that has been operating for generations. They don’t sell cigarettes, dog food, toys or toilet paper. Bridget mans her fort at the end of the store and handles the phone. She comes by when customers come in to talk to them, see how they are. She is famous for her careful research into medications and different ways of buying them and saving money.

The pharmacy closes at 6, but Bridget hands out her home number and tells customers to call her in an emergency. “You might have to stop by the house and pick me up, but I’ll come in,” she says and there are all kinds of stories around town of her doing just that.

One political idea I am happy to talk about is buying local. In my town it is an article of faith. We support the Battenkill Bookstore, the Round House Cafe, our local dinner, Momma’s Restaurant.  When I told my friends I was going on insulin, every one of them urged me to go and talk to Bridget and so I did, and learned more about diabetes in 15 minutes that I had learned in months of talking to doctors and listening to hysterics online. I am adjusting to lots of new things, and I appreciated the help. You probably aren’t happy there’s a pharmacist in your life, Bridget told me today, and I disagreed with her.

At Rite-Aide you have to sign a statement saying you didn’t ask for counseling, at Bridget’s you just look up and ask.

This is exactly the time when I want a pharmacist in my life, I told Bridget, I appreciate her already. Diabetes is complex – needles, tablets, pills, lancets, charts and nutritional issues, Bridget cuts to the chase, she takes time to talk to me and listen. Call me anytime, she said. I told her I would rather not have diabetes, but I saw it as an opportunity to get healthy and stay that way.  There are a lot worse things I might have heard from the doctors. I told her I had to take her photo now, she was a part of my life, and I share much of my life on the blog. Join the colorful cast,  I said, you, dogs and donkeys, and she laughed and said, sure.

On the way out the door, three other customers stopped me and told me how pig-headed their husbands were about their diabetes, what could they do? I wish I could help, I said, it was probably like talking to a tree. Exactly, one said. I can be pretty pig-headed too, and soon we were all laughing with  Bridget at some other story somebody was relating.

Buying local is an timely ideology in the Corporate Nation. I am lucky to have a pharmacist who is still a pharmacist, and not a cog in a convenience store that happens to sell pills. She already knows me better than anyone ever did at Rite-Aid, and she wouldn’t dream of selling cigarettes at a pharmacy. I am glad she is there, she has already made things easier and clearer for me. This is the kind of connection and individuality that corporations kill – it is the essence of community and connection. I”m not going to a pharmacy, I’m going to see Bridget. I don’t know what Bridget’s payment policies are, I have good insurance but I met a woman last week who told me when her husband was dying of cancer and she was penniless, Bridget let her run a tab and even though it took her years to pay the bill off, Bridget never said a word.

I wouldn’t try that at Rite-Aid. There, you can buy cigarettes and pills for lung cancer, but you will have to pay for both.

Later today, something new, important and exciting coming to my digital universe: The Loving Animals Group At Bedlam Farm, a subset of bedlamfarm.com and my Facebook page devoted to writing, thinking, photography drawings and ideas about our love for animals. Members will be accepted slowly and evenly, not in a huge rush. The content of this page – people can join by clicking on the “Loving Animals Group At Bedlam Farm” button on the left side of my Facebook page, this button will appear later this afternoon – will be open to Facebook and the wider world. No privacy here, do not publish anything you do not wish to see shared. Membership is closed, but access to content is not restricted.

Please do not e-mail or message me about the group, I can’t handle the messages I get now. Just apply.  I imagine the group will grow to quite a large number over the next few months. Some guidelines: this is not an animal rescue site, not a grieving site, not a cute animal bulletin board site. All of those subjects are appropriate and acceptable,but there are many sites online devoted to those subjects.

What I hope will make this site unique is that it will be come a thoughtful, fun, honest, and yes, occasionally sad, forum to celebrate and explore our love for animals, something almost everyone reading this shares. That means photos, blogs, essays, thoughts. No arguments or hostility will be tolerated, civil disagreements are welcome, but I doubt there will be many of those…everyone on the site loves animals or we wouldn’t be there.

I do not want the site to be about warnings – I don’t want to see photos of dead and abused or suffocated animals unless it has some relevance and thoughtfulness around our theme which is really very simple. Warnings about food, overheated cars or the  many other alarms that flood the animals sites of the Internet are not welcome here.

The topics are our love of animals, why we love them, how we love them, how they love us back. Memories and reminiscences are very welcome. Postings should center on those ideas. I believe it is a joy and a privilege to have a pet, to love an animal, it is nothing but a gift to me. If you think it is primarily a sad or tragic thing, if you are seeking sympathy and comfort,  this is not the group for you, and me and the other administrators will be very quick to remove people who do not follow these guidelines. We are not a therapy group, but a community coming together to celebrate or love of animals.

I will also be adding two new small and restricted groups – one for workshops on blogs, one for photography. More on that later.

I want this site to be different, creative, touching and thoughtful. As the members of the Open Arts Group can tell you, we are serious about these guidelines, membership is a privilege, not a birthright. These sites are expensive to create and maintain, and I appreciate your subscriptions to this blog, they pay for the blog, my work, my time, my writing and photos and for the Open Groups.

If you are using these sites, or enjoy reading their contents, I would ask you to consider helping to pay for them, and thanks. If you can’ t pay, they are free. Subscriptions can be canceled at any time. Credit cards as well as Paypal are now accepted.

The group titles will appear later today, around mid-afternoon. You can apply then if you wish, this will be exciting and fun. I’m psyched.

I wrote a book review recently in which I went out of my way to criticize a dumb and bigoted interviewer on a cable channel –  Fox News – who repeatedly questioned whether a Muslim scholar – one with four Phd degrees in religious studies – could possibly write an honest book about Jesus Christ.  This was offensive to me on many levels, and I said so. A woman on Facebook immediately wrote me a sad message saying it was obvious I was a liberal, on the “left” and why didn’t I just come out and say so, rather than claiming not to be political all the time. She couldn’t follow my work any more, she said, I had deviated from her dogma.

Whenever I express any kind of political opinion – I don’t often do it – I get messages like that, and they are sad. In the Republic whose founders fought for and invented the idea of civil disagreement, disagreement has become unacceptable. If you are on the right, it is heresy to the left, and vice versa. I answered this woman, I said I refused to label myself so narrowly or permit anyone else to label me so foolishly. There are many more ways to look at the world than “left” or “right” and my ideas often cross from one boundary to the other, as anyone with a functioning mind would.

I was very drawn to conservative ideology – smaller government, an end to the welfare bureaucracy, control of runaway entitlements – until the movement was hijacked by ignorant bigots and sexists and religious fanatics. I believe strongly in women’s rights and I believe, as Jesus Christ did, that our humanity is defined by how we treat the poor (not just animals). What does this make me? I am very drawn to libertarian ideology that permits people to make their own choices about life and death.  I like socialist ideas about health care and paid child care. What label fits all of that? Once I labeled myself,  my mind would shrivel up like a prune – just watch the news.

If I were a well-known gasbag I might have written a book called “The Closing Of The American Mind,” just as Alan Bloom did. His thesis is that American educators and politicians are teaching the young how not to think, just as Fox News and MSNBC teaches their viewers not to think. And isn’t that the point – lazy viewers don’t have to think at all, just nod their heads and fume.

Our media and political worlds are shrinking, so are our minds. In Jefferson’s democratic melting pot, we can now watch only the news and opinion that we agree with, all other thought becomes the enemy, to be dismissed and ignored. What will our children think of democracy when they see their angry and obsessed parents watching cable news shows and raging at the “other.” How strange, I always urged my daughter to listen to people whose ideas made her uneasy, not just hang around those who echoed her own.

I get messages every day that begin with “even though I sometimes disagree with you, I  read your books and like your blog anyway”, as if writing something they don’t agree with is some sort of crime they are overlooking. As if they are doing me a great favor to condescend to pay attention to me even though I have the gall to have my own ideas. And why on earth would I only watch and read ideas I agree with unless I simply wanted my mind to shrink and wither, like the roots of some ancient oak tree?

When I had to reduce the size of the Open Group At Bedlam Farm, a score of people told me they were removing my books from their homes, canceling their subscriptions, leaving the blog forever.  I had displeased them, I needed to be banished from their consciousness, another legacy of the lefting and righting of American thought. This is the closing of the American mind, we have learned to hate what is different, unpleasant,  unfamiliar to us.

Whenever I do express a political idea – I just loved Wendy Davis and her pink sneakers during the famed Texas filibuster – I get messages from people, often long-time readers, who tell me they can no longer read my blog, buy my books, or subscribe to my website. “You said you weren’t political,” said one, “you are obviously a liberal.” This often happens when I raise questions about the animal rescue movement, or express the idea that we can’t love our dogs too much.

Thomas Jefferson thought the most sacred duty in a democracy is to listen to ideas we don’t like and agree with, and share ours, and come together in the middle. In our time, disagreement is a capital offense, there is no sharing of ideas, no coming together. If you express a single thought one might disagree with, then you are quickly labeled as being only one of two things – on the left or on the right. And then, everything you do becomes intolerable, the American equivalent of book burning. This happens in the animal world online just as much as in Washington or on the hysterical political blogs and cable news rantings.

To me, this kind of labeling has always been a fascist trait, not a democratic one. When I lived in New York and New Jersey, it was hard to have any kind of conversation that didn’t include raging hatred for President George W. Bush. When I moved upstate, I had to hear this from the other side – it is Barack Obama who is a monster. This is what labeling does, it’s harvest is anger, hatred, narrowness and ignorance. We never learn to respect the other side, only how to dismiss it and  hate it. What truly open mind would enter a system like this or support it? When it comes to politics, I am an enthusiastic cross dresser, sometimes I like the right, sometimes the left, sometimes even the  libertarians and the socialists (gasp!)

I will never label myself so narrowly, I will never submit to other people’s labeling of me. My wish for myself is that I will always be open to ideas I don’t like and that make me uncomfortable, because in my life, those have often been the ones I most needed to hear. People who like my work can support me but they can’t really teach me. Only challenge and disagreement can do that, and when I am no longer able to hear disagreement, then I will have experienced the first death, the one of the mind. People who like to think are very welcome here, people who live in labels ought best to elsewhere, before they have to burn my books or cancel their subscriptions.

This is harvest time, the sweet time of year for me, the weather is finally sunny and clear and cool in the morning and at night. The sun is shifting, less brutal, more indirect, it is photographer’s light, October light. Time for beginnings, for school, for preparation for winter. We have enough wood, waiting for our hay, a tough year for the hay farmers, so much rain, but then, I’ve not yet heard them say it was a good year. The corn is way taller than me now, it is reaching up towards the sun in supplication.