Has the Dream been Deferred?, III (or, The question of Freedom)

The United States has always held high their heads when it comes to freedom. Over and over again, phrases such as "freedom is not free" and "this is a free country" are overused--both positively and negatively. When I was a kid, the Pledge of Allegiance was recited every morning before classes began at my school. The last line reads, "with liberty and justice for all." Now, I'm not about to praise or bash the judiciary system, just comment on the liberty part of this question.

Maybe a quick history lesson will help us see why the U.S. has loved this moniker.

The year is 1776 and the United States is only a few days old. The document that rebelled against the "cheeky brits" read, "we hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal." But did Thomas Jefferson and the committee really mean it? Sure they did. They had just been through "taxation without representation," and since they, too, were British subjects and also humans, they deserved seats in Parliament, right? Or at least some say in the laws made that would impact them.

However, they felt that the crown and that Parliament were not treating them equally as British citizens, hence the outrage and the declaration of their right as "equal" citizens. Did they mean everyone? Sadly, no. There were "objects" who weren't British or American citizens. They were property.

Everyone points at the South when slavery of the black people comes to mind, but it is very important to note that Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation freed all slaves in the Confederate states, while states like Missouri which stayed loyal to the Union weren't under the law, so slaves in the North were the last to be freed.1 Thus, slavery was added on to independence and the five constitutional freedoms as beacons of the liberty this nation supported.

Slavery has always been a hot issue, and now that it seems as if it is finally out of the question is the time that it should be reconsidered. Slavery still exists in this nation.

Of the approximated 27 million slaves around the world, there are approximately between 14,500 and 17,500 slaves in the U.S. right now. (All these numbers are approximate; there could be more, there could be less--although the latter is highly unlikely.)

They are those who do the work we do not want to do ourselves. Those who we hire for minimal pay because they need the money and we need the product. Those who satisfy our filthiest passions. Slaves do not have to work for free, they are all who we exploit without giving them what they deserve. I will let you be the judge on that yourself.

Going on the basic definition of slavery, (works for free under horrible conditions), I decided I didn't have anyone mowing my lawn, working my fields, or doing anything for me that I knew of. No one, except for my parents washing my dishes (not all the time, I have been getting better but still need to improve). Ah, but what about those things I don't know about? Look at the tag of the clothes you're wearing right now. Where was it made? Does it say it was made under fair trade and slave free regulations?

I went to slaveryfootprint.org. Here, you answer some questions about what you have, material, edible, and even hobbies (including clothes and soap and my bike and everything I own, really). Then, a number shows up at how much slaves could be working for you right now--making your socks and medicine. I had 27 slaves working for me.

If this really was a free country, focused on liberating people (Operation ___ Freedom, anyone?), why don't we do something about this? It seems to me we are all too happy to promote freedom slogans on a t-shirt that was available in cheap bulk pricing because a child slaved away his day making it.

What about things I do control? Maybe this is more of a personal slavery issue. Am I a slave to the luxuries that the child in a sweatshop gives me? I enslave him because I am a slave to the product. What do I spend my time on, what am I a slave of? Is it hurting just me, or maybe those around me as well?

End slavery and begin freedom! Slavery is a problem, both to people being exploited in the U.S. and abroad and to people like you and me, who are addicted to smartphones, cars, silk, sex, cosmetics, medicines, social networks. . .

I could go on about how there are those who have no voice, how there are things the press isn't allowed to publish, how women cannot get the same pay as men in equivalent jobs. The list is frankly too long. When will freedom be achieved? Maybe the question should be, can it be achieved?

Maybe freedom means something more. Maybe freedom begins when I decide slavery ends. My slavery. Their slavery. My unfairness. Their unfairness. My prejudice. Their prejudice.

Freedom, forever, for all.

1http://www.greatamericanhistory.net/amendment.htm
2http://www.freetheslaves.net/Document.Doc?id=69

You know you're in Texas when. . .

I can't go running at 8:45 at night because the temperature is still in the triple digits.

Venus Transit

It's that dot in the middle of the bright thing (sun). Last time it'll happen until 2117.

Makin' that Honey

Busy little bee caught in the act on a rose in...either Nebraska or Texas.

Fruit Flies

I hate those little bugs. And flies. And mosquitoes. THEY NEVER STOP ANNOYING ME.

It's as if God created them because He wanted to teach humans a lesson. . .
. . .did He?

Maybe I should be as persistent as a little mosquito on my ear, try as hard as a fruit fly tries to steal my banana, and not give up as much as a fly flies through the same route fifteen times before I come close to killing it.

I don't know. Either way, those little guys are really pesky.

Has the Dream been Deferred?, II (or, What Exactly Is the American Dream?)

All right, let's make this clear. America is a continent, not a country. This is the United States of America, not United States and America. Why is this necessary? The American dream, whatever it is, starts out on the wrong foot--it should be called the United States dream, or something to that effect. Saying it is the American Dream immediately includes all the countries in the continent, some whose nightmares people flee in search of the dream.

So what is this, uh, dream? Maybe the best way to see the "official" dream is by its "official" definition. Still, this is by far the hardest definition I've had to find.

According to what I found, it is the social ideas such as equality, democracy, material prosperity, freedom, opportunity, and a life of personal happiness and material comfort. Sounds dreamy, doesn't it? I can't help noticing how all of this, as laudable as it sounds, is a little too far-fetched.

Equality: When has the United States ever had equality? As much as they wish they have, it has never been true. Without going into racial issues, white, citizen women still don't earn as much as men in the same position.

Democracy: Probably one of the only example of a somewhat alive democracy in the world, the United States isn't a complete democracy either--the majority vote never wins any issue, it is the state votes with most power that wins. Welcome to a Republic.

Material prosperity/comfort: There's a picture I'll never forget: a line of people in a soup and bread line in front of a billboard featuring a family of four, all smiling, in a car. While material goods abound in the States, happiness does not. Divorce, Obesity, and Suicide (the eleventh cause of death) are rampant, and one begins to wonder if maybe all this "stuff" has anything to do with it.

Freedom: Freedom has always been a label the States has had, but at one point slavery was legal and now that it isn't there are still slaves in this country.

Opportunity: Yes, there is opportunity--available to all who meet certain requirements. Requirements that only certain people are able to meet. I was told at my workplace that it was my contacts, not my abilities, that got me the job.

Now don't get me wrong, and I can see why you might. All this sounds like I am bashing this horribly, but I, too, am here in search of that dream. What I want to do is to figure out exactly what it is I am looking for, to be able to set realistic goals and avoid falling for mere scams. Google's first result for the American Dream? A Real Estate website.

Has the Dream been Deferred?, I (or From Langston Hughes' Inspired Pen, II)

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides, 
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

Where this is going. . .

I don't know if you've noticed (noticing means you've been reading, and if you haven't, then. . . you're not reading this either. . .) but in between my posts I also have posts in "series" of sorts. There's the author series, and all authors I quote here have theirs. There are also the Random Rant series, the Why I'm not a Religionist series, and others.

Well, I'm working on a new series, "Has the Dream been Deferred?", in which I will try to define what the American Dream is--from my point of view. I've been working on essays of this since high school, so some of these old essays might resurface here.

Also, the Book Updates will start coming thick and fast as I try to finish the book's first draft by January, hopefully before that.

and of course, a couple of the other series and other unattached posts as well.

Here goes nothing!

From the Extraordinary Mind of C.S. Lewis, IV (or, Screwtape)

The Screwtape letters was the book he least enjoyed writing, although it was the easiest for him. For me, it was an easy read, but a disturbing one at that. The book deals with the reality sometimes I pretend doesn't exist--there are demons right now, plotting my downfall very carefully.

Here is the sequel Lewis never wanted to write, but wrote anyway. I highly recommend it.

http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/wp-content/uploads/satevepost/screwtape-proposes-a-toast-SEP.pdf

Pocket Guitar

I love playing the piano. It is really hard to carry one around, though, so a piano isn't always handy.
Guitars are much more portable, and this makes for easy playing everywhere. Except when you need room in the car but the guitar is taking the place of a child and a half.
Then, there are pocket guitars.

Well, they're really not that small, but they're tiny. About two ukuleles put together, maybe. And I have two--one I still have to repair, and one I've had for a long time.The sound isn't all that amazing, but I can fit it in my bed with no problems at all.

Today, I grabbed it, laid down with a pillow below my head and another covering my eyes and played some songs off my Christian playlist--for a long time. It felt good, it was almost like a nap . . . but not really. I was awake playing music, but somehow I thoroughly enjoyed it. I hope God didn't mind my singing too much, and instead focused on the little pocket guitar.

Because sometimes, less is more

I just listened to Tchaikovsky's symphony no. 6 for the sixth time, and it beats all modern music--hands down.

Of course, these works do carry more than the average modern song, with their full orchestra and choirs and grandeur--but somehow, they can be underrated by how overrated they are portrayed.

When I finally do get around to listening to a full symphony, and not just selections and movements, I realize that the composers were geniuses, and all of them artists in the purest sense of the word. They created whole worlds in their heads in the same way authors and painters did--except they did it with music, the epitome of emotion.

Hmmm.

It's like poetry, without words.

Beethoven's fifth, and ninth.
Mozart's Requiem
Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake and 6th.

Some of my favorites. Listen to them and close your eyes. 

Crashing through Life with seat belt hands, one accident away from a miracle . . .

Listener
SEATBELT HANDS (dame eyola)
She's the kind of lady that calls everybody baby
honey, sugar, sweetie, she's always making friends
and she keeps us all locked outside her thick leather skin
she always starts with a smile, it's small and butter yellow
but easier than a handshake, doesn't like her hands touched
she tans alot, gets burnt alot smoking through the cartons
but then gets put out so much, she's considered a bargain
she was born on the fourth of july with her hand on her heart
loves america, & being patronized, no one ever told her to guard her heart
she was an angel for halloween once, but never again
and for christmas ever year she's haunted by demons
they always tell her they love her.
she used to believe in innocence until she lost it
and spent a long summer, riding the trains
she has cats and collectors plates to keep her sane
watching TV in her favorite chair...both of which are rented
she's alone, and surrounds herself with loners
her life is a loan, lent out to anyone who will own her
waiting for the night to sweep her off her feet, while she mops the bathroom floor
hoping for a winning ticket or a man to treat her right
but they're both a gamble and she's been a loser all her life
and if she had a nickel for every time she's been punched and kicked
she'd put it together with her camel cash, try to buy some happiness
they always tell her they love her, but then they take something from her.
she would always show us her dreams
they were crumpled up like leaves from holding on too tight
scattered in her shoebox coffin on the cardboard walls covered in butterflies
she's got love in her heart for her babies, and hope in her mind for tomorrow
and blood on her hands that only she sees, holding the last bit of time that's borrowed
but you never know where that heart has been, and we'll never know how hard it's been
I wanna cut open my chest and let her in, but that won’t fix what needs to mend
and she stands there unlit cigarette in hand
filling up that empty hole with anything that’ll pour
insides hanging out like a flare, warning.
there’s beauty in that pain, can you see it?
she’s crashing through life with seat belt hands
one accident away from a miracle
and there’s an honesty there, but I can’t take it all in
she hides the worst of it in the wrinkles
that’s the ache you get when there’s no where else to go.
and she’s got no where else to go, she doesn’t want to go there.
so I promise I’ll go with her.

Book Update, V

I have been taking some time off as I read other works which I think might help me with this book. As soon as I finish Mr. President by Miguel Angel Asturias I will begin work on the book again.
I have done a couple of changes on the outline as well, so still working out the kinks. =)

Oldie but Goodie

Tired of "TV dinner" contemporary christian music, I didn't look for any new Christian music for a long time. I felt I heard the same things over and over again and it all felt so empty. It reminded me of a sopapilla, covered in sugar and delicious for a few seconds, then giving away to a hollow center.
Then I heard Over Oceans by Josh Garrels and loved its rawness and originality. When Love & War & the Sea in Between came out, it instantly revitalized my listening--and playing in services. Not only did it make Josh Garrels my favorite artist in any genre, but it gave me some rich food with which to fuel my spiritual walk.
Love & War & the Sea in Between changed the way I write to God now, feeling I can be blunt and raw and down-to-earth, instead of airy and full of nothing (as uplifting "Breathe" was at first, the lyrics seem a bit, well, cliche and repetitive), like empty carbs in a sopapilla. Essentially, it brought down my relationship with God to personal terms, where my shortcomings loom large, my guilt is put in his hands, and his salvation feels delicious.

This is a song from "Over Oceans," called Decision.

 

On the Job

About 8 hours away from completing my first full work-week in my life, I now realize that I didn't know what I was getting in to. Maybe I had an idea, because I almost didn't want to get hired. I was split between getting valuable experience and time in and getting the summer off after a very busy and stressful year.

I was given a small office that everyone in the floor uses as storage. I rearranged a couple of things and made it a bit more mine, but my little cave here got me thinking about how much I'll like having my own office next year at the Clocktower.

Still, I think I've gotten used to working. It's exactly like doing my homework back in school, editing articles and papers and writing articles and papers--for 8 hours. This makes me even more sure that, after my stint with the Clocktower next year and possibly the year after, I do NOT want to be a newspaper editor. My dream of being a solo-journalist in conflict zones just got a lot more vivid.

And the fact that Microsoft Word, PublAssist, and the other word processing programs I use insist on changing my last name to "Colanders" makes me nuts.

Still, my third floor window isn't all that bad.

Announcement

I'm getting back into competitive running again. I won't take it as seriously as I did when I was in high school, but I'll do my best to run as much as I can without it overtaking my life. This summer I will have a job, so my sleep schedule would be perfect for running anyway. I will try to get in good shape by the time school starts, use the Triathlon 5k as a benchmark, and if all goes well I will train for the half marathon in Lincoln held at the end of the school year.
The half marathon is kinda pricey, so I will probably run unattached, but it will be great as I train for the 2014 Marathon.



Hopefully.

Why I'm Not a Religionist, II

I feel inspired right now, so bear with me here . . .

(I refer to some concepts I talked about in part one . . . )
Every time I talk with my dad I come away with something new.
I had been sharing my personal concern as to how I can give more in service to those around me. I feel as if I talk about this subject a lot but almost never actually act on it--a hypocrite, as they say. During the conversation, he reminded me of his motto while he was out in a mountain as a "bush" doctor (I guess technically it would be a "mount" doctor . . . ), Isaiah 58. Isaiah demands of Israelites true fasting, a major part of their religion. God asks them to share their bread with the hungry, clothe the naked, set loose the yoke of oppression and so on and so on. I've heard Biblical commands and secular calls to action similar to these more times than I care to count--if I had a penny for every time someone mentions "world hunger" or "world peace" . . .
I agreed with the passage, and he obviously did too. But then he gave me the one of the toughest questions he has ever presented me with: "What do you do when you have absolutely nothing. I mean, imagine, if you have no bread--not even for yourself--what are you supposed to give?"
It seemed like a question with an obvious answer, but at the moment I stumbled, muttered a few unintelligible words, and shot him a blank stare.
He went on ruthlessly. "What if what you have isn't yours--maybe you're in debt, or it's borrowed. What then? What do you give?"
He didn't know it at the time, but that question kept me up a couple of nights.
I had the same conversation with my uncle. He gave me the "obvious" answer: you can't give what you don't have. He said, "Sometimes you have to be content with doing your part, what you can do. Maybe your job is only to plant a seed, and then it is someone else who has the responsibility of caring for that person. Peter and John told the man at the gate that they could only give him what they had: Jesus Christ. Maybe that's what you have to do. Your part."
I couldn't help but almost feeling sorry for the man at the gate. They healed him, gave him Jesus, but what about the next day? He was still poor, and most likely now he was a healthy beggar--a beggar, nonetheless.
Recently, the sabbath school lesson has been all about evangelism, and, admittedly, I haven't studied it as I should. Still, I have sat in some classes and noted that the same concept my uncle brought up is the one that got brought up in classes as the main idea: We all have a part to do, and we can't do it all, of course, so we have to be content with planting the seed and letting God do the rest.
Here is where this and I disagree.
What my uncle forgot about the story is that Peter and John didn't just give the man what they had, but also connected him. Let me explain.
We all have a part to do, and we can't do it all, of course, so we have to be content with planting the seed and letting God do the rest. This has got to be the biggest cop-out we Christians make. We use passages like ones found in Luke 10 (where it talks about workers and the harvest) and I Corinthians 12 (where it talks about the body of Christ and the functions everyone has) to say "see, I am not endowed with being a great preacher. All I can do is plant the seed." But that is selfish.
Paul continues in chapter 13 to simplify what he was on about in chapter 12. His easier version? Love. Love is kind, love is faithful. . .
Love is not selfish.
When I tell myself "This is all I am supposed to do," I keep the command benefiting me. Alas, I'm not the one that is chiefly benefited from spreading the gospel, it should be the receiver.
The key is in connecting.
When I have no more to give, I shouldn't say, "Here you go, Jesus" and hand the poor man or woman a Bible, praying that God will use it to change someone's life, be it the poor man or whoever reads it because of him. All too often we are content with handing out literature in the "hope" that it will change someone, and then we wash our hands and say "I did my part, everything else belongs to the Lord and whoever will harvest it."
That is selfish.
What we should be doing is connecting (yes, this is the billionth time I say it) the person with the one who has the ability to keep going. As in, providing the homeless man not with the food I don't have, but with the address of the local shelter, all the while sharing Jesus with him. I give him what I have, Jesus, and connect him with what I don't: shelter, food, clothing.
When Jesus told the 72 he sent out to spread the gospel, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field" he didn't say "ask the Lord of the harvest to send out planters or sowers. He said workers. It is us who are in charge of the harvest, that is to say, the growing has already been done. It is noteworthy that while Jesus is still talking to the 72, he tells the story of the Good Samaritan. Coincidence? I think not.
The good Samaritan did not just bandage the man or give him food and said, "That is all I can do, and all I am sent to do." Actually, that is what the other people before him had done. No, he did what he could, and then connected him with the innkeeper, who had everything else the Samaritan could not provide.
What is the meaning of all this?
I hate the modern definition of religion. It only requires us to do what we must, because we have to, and not a bit more. By definition, it restrains us.
The true religion, worship, tells us to do love God with all our innards and our neighbor (those whom we have to share Jesus love with) the same way we love ourselves. (Said one of my teachers,"If you don't respect yourself, respect the rest of us anyway! You can't get out of [Class] Rule #1 on a technicality.")
I should not be content with handing out a flyer and letting God do the rest. Has He done it in the past? Yes. Can He do it still? Yes. But that's not the point. God sometimes blesses things he does not approve. Hence, Israel got their kings, Solomon, son of an illegitimate wife, became king, and so on and so forth. But why rely on that when we can do it with His help? He didn't just do what He had to do, He also connected us with Him through His Spirit.
This is what I believe defines our commission.
True Religion.
True Worship.