i am...

i am the push and pull of the ocean tide
my waves crashing upon your shores,
scattering shells and sea glass for others to discover
smoothing stones as i give rise to my power
my soul washed clean as i pull back into myself

i am the shifting skyscape
bold and expansive
vibrant colors stretching upward
from the horizon in a cycle of dawn and dusk
at times churning and stormy
confident the sun will return to break through the clouds,
noticing the return of bird song
the renewed sense of life
vivid greens still wet with rain
peaceful
nourished

i am a giant redwood
sturdy and firm despite scars that disrupt my bark
i stretch my shallow roots outward,
intertwining with those around me
in order to stand strong
my rings hold secrets and stories
of each season of growth
i know to sway in the wind
the song of flexibility heard in
the creaking of branches and rustle of pines

i am a scrabble tile, waiting to be played
rearranged and repositioned until something becomes clear
i hold more meaning when connected to others
yet these moments come and go
giving rise to new opportunities and new creations

i am the conversation lingering
over warm cups of coffee
words swirling and mixing in the rising steam
ideas to ponder and push me
some thoughts composed but left unspoken
questions seeking answers

i am a fire burning within
my undying embers needing only a spark to reignite
fueled by the injustice i see in the world
and my desire to create a better place
unfiltered, flickering, i stand as a witness
my glow filling and replacing the darkness
my heart full, reaching its tipping point,
spills over
empties
and once again readies itself
to be refilled

i am the blank pages of my journal
open to possibility
traveling to distant lands
immersed in other worlds that are
one in the same
constantly rewriting myself
capturing experiences and adventures
in attempt to keep them close
always yearning for more
my story never ends...

does collective punishment deter or incite future violence??

last summer while i was in israel, a palestinian living in east jerusalem carried out an attack on civilians in jerusalem using a bulldozer as his weapon. you may recall reading about that incident in a post i wrote at the time. when it occurred, many individuals with whom i spoke of the incident wondered whether it was a calculated terrorist attack against jewish israelis or if it was more akin to random terrorism similar to those acts carried out in our own country in which disgruntled, depressed, and/or otherwise emotionally turmoiled individuals take out their anger in violent, murderous, reprehensible acts.

today, i learned that on april 7, israeli security forces demolished the home of the family of the man who committed the bulldozer attack. no evidence exists that the family had anything to do with the attack. none. the israeli government claims that such punitive actions are a message to the greater palestinian community in an effort to deter future attacks. b'tselem, an israeli human rights group that monitors human rights abuses within the occupied territories, condemns this action.

i wonder how citizens in america would react if our government implemented a policy in which families of criminals are punished by having their homes demolished.

would we sit by if 664 homes were destroyed under this premise in a three year period?

would we believe that this action actually deterred future crimes?

this policy is a blatant breach of international humanitarian law. sadly, we seem to turn a blind eye to international law unless we consider those who are violating it fall under the category of people we don't like.

perhaps it is time that we hold democratic governments accountable for how they treat others (and yes, i'm implying that this should apply to our own government as well). perhaps the homes of israeli government officials should be threatened with demolition orders by the world community in order to deter future transgressions that violate the law. surely that would work to deter them?

feeling the ground shift beneath my feet

yesterday, i was one of millions who descended upon the open spaces of our national mall to witness the momentous occasion of barack hussein obama becoming the 44th president of our united states. the mood was jubilant, reminiscent of that same energy i experienced when i sat perched in the stands of invesco field to hear obama accept the democratic nomination, when i stood less than 30 feet from a stage set up amongst an overflowing 100,000+ crowd at civic center park for one of obama's final pre-election rallies, and when i worked a polling station in denver on election day as person after person came through with a smile on his or her face. an energy of exhilaration, of unity, of hope, of fulfillment.

after an easy bus ride from takoma, we made our way to the mall via 18th street, lined with vendors of every type of obama gear imaginable and closed to everything except pedestrian traffic. police officers were everywhere, doing their best to move us along in a steady wave that overtook the entirety of the street. in minutes we were on the park grounds, astounded by the relative ease with which we had come. garth brooks, singing "bye, bye miss american pie," was being broadcast on the tremendous jumbotrons constructed throughout the area while people all about sang and danced along. it all felt like one big party.

thin clouds streaked a pale blue sky with glints of sunlight shining through. large flocks of birds swirled and the wind kicked up around us. a beautiful, if bitterly cold, day. the crowds were thin, and we decided to "find our spot" (as directed to do in the handy inauguration guidelines) on the east side of the hilltop of the washington monument. we had plenty of room and marveled as the spaces filled in and sunday's opening concerts were rebroadcast to keep us entertained, and we worked to keep warm.

soon announcements informed us that the parade route had filled to capacity before 9:30 am, and both entrances to it and to the mall had been closed off to any additional onlookers. a short time later, we were standing shoulder to shoulder with individuals from all walks of life, all ages, and all sorts of beliefs, young and old, friends and family, from near and far. the epitome of the diversity that makes america what it is.


when i think about what it means for me to have been in this place at this time, i keep coming back to what obama has said all along -- what his quest for the presidency was all about -- the role of the people within our democracy; that this election was never about him, but that it has been about all of us. i stood on my little square of the hilltop as a show of support in our new leader, for whom we seem to be in need. standing in the place where the leaders of our nation convene to make it all happen, amidst the memorials to the tremendous events of our history, i reveled in the transition of power that symbolizes the freedom of our citizens and the role we play within our democracy.

obama captured much of this himself in his opening remarks at the lincoln memorial this past sunday:

What gives me that hope is what I see when I look out across this mall. For in these monuments are chiseled those unlikely stories that affirm our unyielding faith - a faith that anything is possible in America. Rising before us stands a memorial to a man who led a small band of farmers and shopkeepers in revolution against the army of an Empire, all for the sake of an idea. On the ground below is a tribute to a generation that withstood war and depression - men and women like my grandparents who toiled on bomber assembly lines and marched across Europe to free the world from tyranny’s grasp. Directly in front of us is a pool that still reflects the dream of a King, and the glory of a people who marched and bled so that their children might be judged by their character’s content. And behind me, watching over the union he saved, sits the man who in so many ways made this day possible.

And yet, as I stand here tonight, what gives me the greatest hope of all is not the stone and marble that surrounds us today, but what fills the spaces in between. It is you - Americans of every race and region and station who came here because you believe in what this country can be and because you want to help us get there. It is the same thing that gave me hope from the day we began this campaign for the presidency nearly two years ago; a belief that if we could just recognize ourselves in one another and bring everyone together - Democrats, Republicans, and Independents; Latino, Asian, and Native American; black and white, gay and straight, disabled and not - then not only would we restore hope and opportunity in places that yearned for both, but maybe, just maybe, we might perfect our union in the process.This is what I believed, but you made this belief real. You proved once more that people who love this country can change it. And as I prepare to assume the presidency, yours are the voices I will take with me every day I walk into that Oval Office - the voices of men and women who have different stories but hold common hopes; who ask only for what was promised us as Americans - that we might make of our lives what we will and see our children climb higher than we did.

It is this thread that binds us together in common effort; that runs through every memorial on this mall; that connects us to all those who struggled and sacrifice and stood here before.

It is how this nation has overcome the greatest differences and the longest odds - because there is no obstacle that can stand in the way of millions of voices calling for change.

i look forward with hope and faith that this transition of power ushers in with it the opportunity to renew our spirits and to commit to the greater good. i go forth believing that we are the people we've been waiting for, recommitted to doing my best to make the world a better place for my having been in it.

faces of palestinians

not a single day has gone by since my return from palestine some five months ago that i have not missed the arid landscape and vibrant people, reflected on some aspect of my experience, or thought about the new friends i created during my brief stay there. the intensity of the last nine days and the war on gaza have brought so much to the surface that i'm not certain how to process it all. one thing is for certain, however, and that is the fact that each time the statistics roll in from the various news outlets, i see the faces of the palestinians i encountered last summer and wonder if my friends are safe.
each number, whether cited as hamas or civilian, is another human being. somehow, the majority of the world seems to be missing that fact.

as a middle school humanities teacher, i spend my days working with my students to unravel the complexities of conflict and to view history and current events through multiple perspectives. students quickly discern for themselves that the best way to escalate hate and justify one's actions is to create the "other" by vilifying and dehumanizing one's opponent. over time, each marginalized group seems to manage to overcome this demonization, though not without struggle and revolution of some sort. today, much of the world accepts the notion that palestinians qualify as the other: they are the aggressors; they are the terrorists; they, in fact, have brought the israeli airstrikes and ground invasion upon themselves. i, however, cannot swallow this misconception, this blatant lie.

each time the number of dead in gaza is reported as if it is a matter of no consequence, i burn with rage on the inside. while six weeks in palestine does not make me an expert on the situation, i can speak from my experience to say that i have looked into the curious, hopeful eyes of palestinian children playing among the rubble and in polluted streets of refugee camps to find that they are simply children with big hearts and impressionable minds, struggling to find happiness in each day and live a life of normalcy, as much as that is possible in their given circumstances. i have met men who have been imprisoned without charges or shot by israeli soldiers who write painfully beautiful poetry and organize students to express themselves without violence. i have met highly educated intellectuals working to secure human rights when they could be living a life of relative ease anywhere else in the world. while members of hamas are very real, we need to pause and reflect on the fact that they are a small faction of the palestinian people. the world needs to remember that gaza contains 1.5 million fellow human beings -- a half a million of whom are children -- who have been subjected to inhumane conditions yet somehow manage to persevere.