Last night I had one of the most disturbing dreams that I think is possible. As happens so often, I will forget the dream by the time I get to the kitchen. So as I lay in the predawn haze I told myself the details that I could remember. It was an attempt to be able to recall the most poignant details of that dream.
First the dream, then the reflections that I had as I lay in bed.
The dream started on the day of my execution. It was probably within hours of the time I was to be put to death by electric chair. This was not an out of body experience, with me on the ceiling. I was the one inside the person that was to be killed. The only person that was with me that I knew was a person that I felt was my sister. As I progressed through the day, I went through the emotions that one would expect. I felt the terror of knowing what was going to happen. I felt sadness for a family that was left behind. The trip to the execution chamber was bizarre. I was put into a circular contraption that was similar to a carnival ride. In order to get to the chamber this contraption whisked me through the air. That ride was amazing. I felt the wind on my face, I saw the sky and felt the sun. It truly felt that it was first time that I had experienced this in some time. After the ride I was forced to walk a long, curving stairway. On the way I heard people talking about the crime that I had been convicted for. The story they told and the memories I had did not match-up. This was the low point for my day. Along the way a small African-american girl ran by me. My hand grazed her head as she went past. This, I knew instantly, was the daughter of the murdered person. Toward the top of the stairs I begged for mercy. I dropped to my knees weeping like a child. The executioner came to me, put his hand on my head and just stood there. At that moment, it felt like a father’s hand calming his son. I stood, and calmly walked through the doors. The first thing I saw were the witnesses. I knew them all. I saw the chair. It was a familiar blue recliner with bright green and red leads. As I sat down, I drew a breath to say something. As if it were a blur, I felt a hood then hands on my chest. Within a split second I heard the metal to metal snap. The next feeling that I had was a tightening of my entire torso.
I awoke, understandably, alarmed. I never knew it was a dream until I was awake. I lay there having just experienced a death. I didn’t know how to react. I felt relief and a torrent of sadness.
I couldn’t explain the sadness. I have been against the death penalty for some time. I don’t believe that it is okay to take a life for any reason. But it was more than that. It was a sadness left over from the dream. It was the sadness of and for all those that don’t get to wake up in a bed.
You can do with it what you will. I don’t mind armchair analyzing. I am someone who always thinks that I am 3 ticks from crazy anyway. I often find it hard to share these experiences openly. But for some reason, I thought perhaps I could use this bizarre dream to stir up some feelings in those around me.
You can’t be neutral on a moving train - Howard Zinn
Friday, October 23, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
AIB's view of Iran
As an anarchist, I was thrilled to see the people of iran stand up and tell those that rule, “you are nothing without the people.” To remind them, they may have guns, but the people have the voice. Sometimes it takes time, but with enough perseverance the people will prevail. As I struggle to regain control over my own life (control that I willingly gave up) I take heart in knowing that as humans we are amazing creatures. And as a group of humans we are unstoppable.
As an atheist, I am disappointed that so much of the discussion is not about the actions of the voice of god in iran. The language, actions, and demeanor are equal to that of the catholic church during the last 1000 years. Heretics are to be dealt with swiftly and brutally. All those who disagree must confess and ask for god’s forgiveness. When the person suffers in the process, all the better. I don’t pretend to think that iran will become a secular nation, the desire of the people to have a god is too strong. But it is THEIR desire, not mine that matters.
As a human being, I am gripped by the show of resolve by the iranian people. I am awed by the desire to risk everything for their voice to be heard. I am comforted by the fact that people around the world are concerned about the fellow human. The fellow human who doesn’t look like them, speak like them, live like them, or worship like them. I am enraged by the fact that it is fellow iranians who are being so oppressive. To know that the riot cop eats breakfast, kisses his wife and says, “well, I guess I’m off to beat the protestors today” is mind boggling. I am lifted by the fact that peace can be so devastating to brutality. To see that clasping hands is far more dangerous to the power structure than brandishing guns is a great validation for our pacifist brothers.
As an american, I am relieved to see a president use tact instead of cowboy bravado to deal with an intense situation. I am disappointed when I recall an election where a full recount was never allowed. (Why were we so sedentary?) I also remember the sights of the streets in Denver and Minneapolis this past year. I saw the scenes of thousands of riot police forcing peaceful protestors into blind alleys, rushing them, beating them and arresting them by the hundreds. I recall the stories of journalist being arrested and brutalized. I recall the protestors wondering why their cell phones went dead in certain areas of heavy activity. I followed Twitter for several weeks last summer to witness a brave few souls who believed in their cause enough to stand up for it.
But most of all I have been amazed at how we, the people, can tell the corporate media what to pay attention to. For that 2 weeks (attention seems to waning now) they followed us. It was joked about and made fun of, but it was real. We too have power. We just have to learn to wield it. We now see the value of having a platform to gather millions of voices together. It doesn’t have to end there and it doesn’t have to end now.
As an atheist, I am disappointed that so much of the discussion is not about the actions of the voice of god in iran. The language, actions, and demeanor are equal to that of the catholic church during the last 1000 years. Heretics are to be dealt with swiftly and brutally. All those who disagree must confess and ask for god’s forgiveness. When the person suffers in the process, all the better. I don’t pretend to think that iran will become a secular nation, the desire of the people to have a god is too strong. But it is THEIR desire, not mine that matters.
As a human being, I am gripped by the show of resolve by the iranian people. I am awed by the desire to risk everything for their voice to be heard. I am comforted by the fact that people around the world are concerned about the fellow human. The fellow human who doesn’t look like them, speak like them, live like them, or worship like them. I am enraged by the fact that it is fellow iranians who are being so oppressive. To know that the riot cop eats breakfast, kisses his wife and says, “well, I guess I’m off to beat the protestors today” is mind boggling. I am lifted by the fact that peace can be so devastating to brutality. To see that clasping hands is far more dangerous to the power structure than brandishing guns is a great validation for our pacifist brothers.
As an american, I am relieved to see a president use tact instead of cowboy bravado to deal with an intense situation. I am disappointed when I recall an election where a full recount was never allowed. (Why were we so sedentary?) I also remember the sights of the streets in Denver and Minneapolis this past year. I saw the scenes of thousands of riot police forcing peaceful protestors into blind alleys, rushing them, beating them and arresting them by the hundreds. I recall the stories of journalist being arrested and brutalized. I recall the protestors wondering why their cell phones went dead in certain areas of heavy activity. I followed Twitter for several weeks last summer to witness a brave few souls who believed in their cause enough to stand up for it.
But most of all I have been amazed at how we, the people, can tell the corporate media what to pay attention to. For that 2 weeks (attention seems to waning now) they followed us. It was joked about and made fun of, but it was real. We too have power. We just have to learn to wield it. We now see the value of having a platform to gather millions of voices together. It doesn’t have to end there and it doesn’t have to end now.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
On the wings of the stars
As the sun sets on my humble home
It rises on a troubled people far away
Throughout the night they encouraged
Themselves and their brothers by shouting
Allah u Akbar, Allah u Akbar!
Tonight, in a far away land I raise my voice
I tell those who can hear me
That I am your brother
I offer you encouragement, through my cries
Allah u Akbar, Allah u Akbar!
I hope as darkness settles on your troubled land
The wings of the stars have carried my voice
To be mingled with yours
One in a chorus of hope, peace and love
Allah u Akbar, Allah u Akbar!
Our faces will never meet, but our words will
Ring in the ears of your oppressors
They ring in mine day and night
May all of humanity cry out until there is peace
Allah u Akbar, Allah u Akbar!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Ernest Hemingway, meet the Gaurdian Council
At this time of struggle for the Iranians I am reminded of Ernest Hemingway. During the early 20th century he went to other nations to help the people decide how they wanted to be governed. I can understand the pull of Arabs to Iraq to fight americans. I believe in self determination. I don't understand the government that they will chose, but I support them in their struggle. It seems to me (and I may be wrong) the difference between the 1920's and 30's in europe and today in the middle east is that back then the us government stayed out of it. Today the hawks in our government are calling for us to go into iran to protect the protestors. Although that may seem a noble idea, it is the wrong thing to do. When we send our army in, we tend to try to give them american democracy at gun point. Although it may get uglier, they have to do these things themselves. I hope there are those that struggle with them physically and the attention span of the world is long enough to stay focused on them. At night I stand outside and yell to a god I don't believe in because I want to take part in their struggle. I want them and everyone around me to know that I am iranian too.
As a side note- I read an article on the ethics of changing ones place and timezone to Tehran's. There was a good discussion on the side effects of changing them. My thought on the subject was that in the digital age, we are standing up saying "I am Spartacus!"
Today and for the forseeable future, I AM IRANIAN! Allahu Akbar!
As a side note- I read an article on the ethics of changing ones place and timezone to Tehran's. There was a good discussion on the side effects of changing them. My thought on the subject was that in the digital age, we are standing up saying "I am Spartacus!"
Today and for the forseeable future, I AM IRANIAN! Allahu Akbar!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Can ag be sustainable?
In recent years studies have shown the harmful affects that the large amount of meat consumption has on our planet. This hurts me deeply. I have loved the livestock industry my whole life. I love the cows that I raise now. I have spent my whole life trying to be right were I am at this very moment. I am standing in my pasture watching my cows recline in the shade in the tall, cool grass while their calves prance around me. I am preparing to spend the next week in this very position. My life’s goal is to make a living at this very act. As I read the reports of harm created by commercial ag, I can think that it is not me. I am a small time operator. Those guys are creating the problem not me. But I am a link in their chain. I buy (and sell) their products. I sell them my calves.
I hate the fact that my desire feeds their system. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. It is these times where the other struggles in life don’t drown this out that I can ponder where I am and where I am going and where I should be going. As with all important things, there is no easy answer. I am a visionary. I can see where I want to be, but I can’t see the path. It reminds me of when I used to drive a tow truck in college. I spent many hours driving down familiar roads, but when I lifted my gaze past the hood of my truck I could see the beauty of Missouri. You would be surprised how far you can see from sections of I-70. But you have to remember you are on I-70. Even now, my eyes wander to the far flung skylines.
I wanted to express the cognitive dissonance of being an environmentally conscious cattleman, but I think I may have failed. I long for a time when a farm could pay for a farm. When you only needed 40 acres to provide for a family. When life started and ended in the same place (for people and animals). When we had sustainable agriculture. That has not been in my lifetime, my parent’s lifetime and only a portion of my grandparent’s. So I see my choices as behaving like the majority of american’s and pretending there is no elephant in the room or changing what I do in a drastic way. I don’t know what that entails. I can see the endpoint, but no path.
I hate the fact that my desire feeds their system. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. It is these times where the other struggles in life don’t drown this out that I can ponder where I am and where I am going and where I should be going. As with all important things, there is no easy answer. I am a visionary. I can see where I want to be, but I can’t see the path. It reminds me of when I used to drive a tow truck in college. I spent many hours driving down familiar roads, but when I lifted my gaze past the hood of my truck I could see the beauty of Missouri. You would be surprised how far you can see from sections of I-70. But you have to remember you are on I-70. Even now, my eyes wander to the far flung skylines.
I wanted to express the cognitive dissonance of being an environmentally conscious cattleman, but I think I may have failed. I long for a time when a farm could pay for a farm. When you only needed 40 acres to provide for a family. When life started and ended in the same place (for people and animals). When we had sustainable agriculture. That has not been in my lifetime, my parent’s lifetime and only a portion of my grandparent’s. So I see my choices as behaving like the majority of american’s and pretending there is no elephant in the room or changing what I do in a drastic way. I don’t know what that entails. I can see the endpoint, but no path.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
today I live, while tomorrow they die
Today is the national day of action for Troy Davis. Today I continue to do what I did yesterday, will do today and tomorrow and the day after that. In the near future while I am building a corral or filtering vegetable oil or feeding cows or playing with kittens, dogs, cats or boys Troy Davis will be killed. My life will go on. His will not. For what purpose? Not only is it very likely he is innocent of what he is accused of, but your government wants to kill him. They want to put him a little room and snuff out his life. Is that okay with you? In this busy time in our lives, take a couple of minutes and reflect on state sanctioned homicide. Your state has no more right to kill you than it does to kill Troy Davis, KSM, or any other person it deems unfit to live.
Please visit this amnesty international website to learn more about the unjust stats of american death penalty usage.
We are all Troy Davis. If we allow one unjust act after another to take place in our name, we will all be affected. You are farther from the bottom than Troy Davis, so it may take longer to reach you, but you will touched by injustice.
Stand up and take action!
Please visit this amnesty international website to learn more about the unjust stats of american death penalty usage.
We are all Troy Davis. If we allow one unjust act after another to take place in our name, we will all be affected. You are farther from the bottom than Troy Davis, so it may take longer to reach you, but you will touched by injustice.
Stand up and take action!
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