A better epitaph I’ve never found

Posted in Stones on the Path on May 11th, 2008 by DhammaSeeker

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

final 3 stanzas of Song of Myself, Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

might as well lol

Posted in Stones on the Path on May 8th, 2008 by DhammaSeeker

Since everything is but an apparition,
Perfect in being what it is,
Having nothing to do with good or bad,
Acceptance or rejection,
You might as well burst out laughing!
~ Longchenpa

Let it not go unnoticed

Posted in Rants on May 6th, 2008 by DhammaSeeker

That Sami al Hajj, a Sudanese citizen, was held 2,340 days at Guantánamo bay before being released last week. Hajj was never prosecuted; the U.S. did not make public its full allegations against him.

In a hearing that classified the cameraman as an enemy combatant, U.S. officials alleged that in the 1990s, Hajj was an executive assistant at a Qatar-based beverage company that provided support to Muslim fighters in Bosnia and Chechnya.

May the world know that there is at least one American who noticed this violation of human rights, and believes, nay, knows, this is contrary to the very principles upon which our country was founded. As-sallamu aleykum, Sami al Hajj.

Source

Should the US re-institute the draft?

Posted in General on May 4th, 2008 by DhammaSeeker

Sharing the Tragedy of War
by Aileen Mory
Weekend Edition Sunday, April 13, 2008

I believe that democracy is a shared responsibility. The problem with any core belief is that life has a way of testing it. My most recent test came in the form of the Iraq war. I failed.

I was against the war from the start, although my opposition never translated into a protest march in Washington or a letter to my congressman. It remained no more than a quietly held belief. Today, there’s talk of leaving Iraq, but I don’t know what to think. I want our soldiers to come home, but can we really abandon the Iraqi people to what is essentially a civil war of our own making?

I don’t have a solution, but I think I may have figured out what’s missing from my perspective on democracy: pain — universal, democratic pain. In terms of the Iraq war, this country’s burden is being shouldered by a select few. Some families and communities have been devastated by the war. Others, like mine, have been far too insulated. We can’t truly share the responsibility for our democracy until we all share in its suffering.

And so, in the name of shared pain, I support the reinstitution of the draft.

Don’t get me wrong. I have two children, ages 13 and 17. I don’t want them to be drafted. I’m frightened at the idea of having them serve in the military, just as I would be at the prospect of having a cop or fireman in the family. But guess what? If I’m mugged, I’m going to turn to my local police department. If there’s a fire in my house, I’ll want to hug the man or woman who saves my home. And if my way of life is threatened by outside forces, I’ll be forever grateful to that soldier guarding the wall. Unfortunately, that soldier is invisible to me. I know he’s out there, but he doesn’t have a face — certainly not the face of my child.

The idea that our troops are risking their lives thousands of miles from home, while my life is essentially unchanged, is chilling. I’m not saying that I don’t care. I’m saying I don’t care enough. When soldiers are dying to support our nation’s decision to go to war, “we the people” should not have a choice about our level of involvement. We should be drawn into the fray, kicking and screaming if need be, but fully engaged.

So draft my kids. Force them — and me — to be part of this democracy. Make no mistake: If I believe the country is waging the wrong battle, I’ll fight you tooth and nail. I don’t want my children going to war.

If every parent does not have to fear losing a son or daughter — if every politician does not have to face that fear in his constituents — decisions to go to war will continue to be too easy. I believe that a true democracy comes from shared responsibility for our collective choices. If that choice is war, we must all share in its tragedy.

I heard this on my NPR podcast a few weeks ago commuting home from work, and I was seriously taken aback. I’ve got three boys of my own, I do not support the Iraq war, but the last damned thing I think we should do is re-institute the draft.

I’m no logician, but isn’t her argument essentially cutting off the nose to spite the face?

Instead of offering up her (and my!) sons to the slaughter, shouldn’t she be focusing on less destructive means to accomplish the goal of stopping the wrongs we’ve wrought as a country in the Middle East? If she hasn’t felt enough pain on a personal level, maybe she can spend a day at the nearest national cemetery and witness the grief of families first hand.

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The impeded stream is the one that sings

Posted in Stones on the Path on May 1st, 2008 by DhammaSeeker

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.

~ Wendell Berry