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Dear Sir,
You don't know me but I know some things about you. I am just a girl on the fringe, watching the orange alerts creeping into red. I see the borders you are reinforcing, those walls look strong and those men with guns look mean. I see the new prisons under construction, the ones already overflowing (commuting Libby was money, dude. Way to save bed space!) I see the lack of Iraqis being granted asylum in our country, even as we run roughshod over theirs. That pesky deathtoll keeps rising, but calling it collateral damage is a great idea, so much easier to forget that way! And good idea saving money on supplies, our men and women in combat don't need much, it's plenty hot there already, no need to weigh them down with cumbersome body armor.
I notice the rising rates of HMO coverage, the fact that millions of kids can't see a doctor. I see the slow progress in Louisiana, even though some of your contractor buddies made out like bandits over a year ago. Schools are more overcrowded than ever; those federal budget cuts have a way of trickling down, good job cutting corners on that one. Who needs an education anyways! And that whole fight to minimize global warming? Good strategy, no need getting everyone panicked. In fact, incentives for purchasing over sized gas guzzling vehicles is showing your commitment! To Oil!
Not everyone has a house, and some of those who do don't have electricity. No worries there, folks are resourceful, they can use blankets. Plus there are showers at public parks and way less staff around to manage the traffic so any of us can sneak in and clean right up. Saves on water too! Food is an annoying necessity, but hey, dumpsters are overflowing everywhere. Speaking of landfills, I hear we might be using oceans now, what a great idea. Lots of room at the bottom of the ocean! Wasted Space!
All in all, Mr. President, I think you are doing just swell. That whole Patriot Act thing was the real kicker, keeping those people who challenge you in their place! Not to mention fixing the election back in 2000, way to go after what you want, we love that pitbull attitude. And who cares if the rest of the world hates us? We'll just keep them saddled in debt and and terrified of invasion and eventually they'll come around. I think you are doing a great job running this country - you never let anyone stand in your way, not even the truth!
And who cares about truth when we have fear? Fear! The New Truth!
Cheers,
She Who Waits Like A Dog In Heat For 2008
PS. Happy 4th!
PPS. What kind of dirt did Libby have on you anyways?
Showing posts with label pigheadedness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pigheadedness. Show all posts
practical empathy
Empathy in greek means to suffer with. I think there are many ways one can suffer along with another - whether by being moved on the basis of story or situation, by verbally sharing and connecting with another's plight in a person to person form, or by taking a more proactive stance and doing something practical that alleviates another's suffering.
As I reflect over the past week, I wonder which form of empathy has the greatest effect not only the individual in question, but in the world. I know that at times people need physical help. A place to sleep. Food. Mosquito netting. I like to think of that as tactical empathy. Sometimes we need a shoulder to cry on. One person connecting with another in a way that says: I feel you, and I care, and this too shall pass. Other times we hear a story so powerful, so gut wrenching, that we are transfixed and transformed by the plight of another person or community; Darfur, Katrina, James Kim. All of those fall into that category, as do a thousand other social tragedies.
And sometimes, all the empathy in the world doesn't mean there is a solution. Sometimes feeling another person's pain doesn't move us to do anything tangible about it. Sometimes we simply feel and let that feeling ride; hoping the empathy of others will make up for our own inertia.
And then I think of personal empathy; and what shape and form I allow myself to walk in another's shoes. Or allow them to walk in mine. And how responsible we are for allowing others to care for us, to share our sorrow, to lift us up.
I know when I think of someone empathizing with me I feel understood. That someone saw my struggle and did something beyond simply recognizing it. The "I notice you are struggling because you haven't slept in 3 days" becomes "You haven't slept in three days, so please let me get up with the baby so you can rest". I most value the empathy that comes without me having to ask. For example "I am so tired so can you please get up with the baby" even if responded to positively, means so much less than if I didn't have to ask.
Somehow I equate asking for help with weakness, and having to ask with resentment. This is a personal statement, one I do not equate at all to someone else asking for help. This one is reserved for me alone.
This belief system has caused me a lot of pain; and it invalidates those around me who care and would truly do anything I asked. But yet, that means I must run full circle back to the asking itself.
It's a funnybugger, this one.
And so it makes me wonder what we are all really asking for. Are we simply asking to be understood, or is it something deeper? Are we asking for the voice on the phone to simply understand, or are we secretly wishing the voice on the phone would do something more?
I think the answer to that depends on the situation we are facing. Sometimes a voice on the phone (or a comment on my blog) is exactly and all I need. Your empathy this week buoyed me, lifted me, it mattered. (thank you)
I remember when we first had M J worked nights. I was up all night long for days and was starting to lose my mind. I remember talking to a friend, crying, who told me that she was on her way over. And when she got here she took M, sent me to bed, and stayed up all night long with M so I could sleep. She sat awake in my living room for 6 hours and allowed me to rest.
It was the single best baby gift I have ever received, that one night, where I thought I might not make it another day. I never would have asked, but it was exactly what I needed.
I've needed more this week, and as a result of my not asking, I've not gotten it. I've needed J to pull more of the load; our usually very equitable load; because I've been pushed and pulled and have had many late nights. And J, if I ask, will do what I need, and he'll do it willingly and without question. But it goes back to the asking.
And so my thoughts return to empathy. I think, for me, various forms feed me in various situations. but sometimes the practical kind; while requiring more of another, means the most to the person in need.
Empathy, in greek, means to suffer with. And sometimes suffering with means getting your hands dirty. I mentioned in an earlier post that I'd re-awakened something - and I think this something has to do with practical empathy. To suffer alongside another - sitting cold on a curb, sharing your food, carrying someone's belongings or helping them walk.
All we can do is remain aware, and allow ourselves to bend into uncomfortable positions in an effort to allow someone else a bit more comfort. While simultaneously allowing others to be make you more comfortable too.
As I reflect over the past week, I wonder which form of empathy has the greatest effect not only the individual in question, but in the world. I know that at times people need physical help. A place to sleep. Food. Mosquito netting. I like to think of that as tactical empathy. Sometimes we need a shoulder to cry on. One person connecting with another in a way that says: I feel you, and I care, and this too shall pass. Other times we hear a story so powerful, so gut wrenching, that we are transfixed and transformed by the plight of another person or community; Darfur, Katrina, James Kim. All of those fall into that category, as do a thousand other social tragedies.
And sometimes, all the empathy in the world doesn't mean there is a solution. Sometimes feeling another person's pain doesn't move us to do anything tangible about it. Sometimes we simply feel and let that feeling ride; hoping the empathy of others will make up for our own inertia.
And then I think of personal empathy; and what shape and form I allow myself to walk in another's shoes. Or allow them to walk in mine. And how responsible we are for allowing others to care for us, to share our sorrow, to lift us up.
I know when I think of someone empathizing with me I feel understood. That someone saw my struggle and did something beyond simply recognizing it. The "I notice you are struggling because you haven't slept in 3 days" becomes "You haven't slept in three days, so please let me get up with the baby so you can rest". I most value the empathy that comes without me having to ask. For example "I am so tired so can you please get up with the baby" even if responded to positively, means so much less than if I didn't have to ask.
Somehow I equate asking for help with weakness, and having to ask with resentment. This is a personal statement, one I do not equate at all to someone else asking for help. This one is reserved for me alone.
This belief system has caused me a lot of pain; and it invalidates those around me who care and would truly do anything I asked. But yet, that means I must run full circle back to the asking itself.
It's a funnybugger, this one.
And so it makes me wonder what we are all really asking for. Are we simply asking to be understood, or is it something deeper? Are we asking for the voice on the phone to simply understand, or are we secretly wishing the voice on the phone would do something more?
I think the answer to that depends on the situation we are facing. Sometimes a voice on the phone (or a comment on my blog) is exactly and all I need. Your empathy this week buoyed me, lifted me, it mattered. (thank you)
I remember when we first had M J worked nights. I was up all night long for days and was starting to lose my mind. I remember talking to a friend, crying, who told me that she was on her way over. And when she got here she took M, sent me to bed, and stayed up all night long with M so I could sleep. She sat awake in my living room for 6 hours and allowed me to rest.
It was the single best baby gift I have ever received, that one night, where I thought I might not make it another day. I never would have asked, but it was exactly what I needed.
I've needed more this week, and as a result of my not asking, I've not gotten it. I've needed J to pull more of the load; our usually very equitable load; because I've been pushed and pulled and have had many late nights. And J, if I ask, will do what I need, and he'll do it willingly and without question. But it goes back to the asking.
And so my thoughts return to empathy. I think, for me, various forms feed me in various situations. but sometimes the practical kind; while requiring more of another, means the most to the person in need.
Empathy, in greek, means to suffer with. And sometimes suffering with means getting your hands dirty. I mentioned in an earlier post that I'd re-awakened something - and I think this something has to do with practical empathy. To suffer alongside another - sitting cold on a curb, sharing your food, carrying someone's belongings or helping them walk.
All we can do is remain aware, and allow ourselves to bend into uncomfortable positions in an effort to allow someone else a bit more comfort. While simultaneously allowing others to be make you more comfortable too.
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