Yeah...and so, anyway...

Goodbye, Sacramento, it's been good, but...

2012-01-15T21:11:00.000-08:00

Well, I did it. After living in Sacramento for 38 years (and the closely surrounding areas of Fair Oaks and Rancho Cordova for a total of seven years), I moved 92 miles southwest to Oakland. The reason? Well, my daughters and my grandson live in the East Bay area. I missed being close to my them. Right now, I'm temporarily living with my oldest daughter until the current tenant of the "mother-in-law" cottage behind her house moves out, hopefully on the first of February. Until then, I am grateful that my daughter and grandson are sharing their small two-bedroom, one bath house with me. It hasn't been easy for any of us. I have habits that I've developed over the years that are not conducive to living with other people. There are these awful periods of embarrassingly persistent obsessive behaviors, specifically, isolating in my room where I get lost in writing, reading or watching movies/documentaries for hours and sometimes days while eating stuff that I know I shouldn't. I am striving to change these character defects, but unfortunately I'm not even aware of them until I'm called out about them by someone. Recently, that someone has been my oldest daughter, but she's certainly not the only one. I've been rooming with other people for the past two years, and they have called these unhealthy tendencies to my attention on several occasions. It's a necessary, but humbling experience, one that I am taking an extraordinarily long time to learn because I still indulge in them. (sigh) It's tough being a human being with such glaringly ruinous behaviors.

All right, enough digression. There are other reasons why I left Sacramento. Transportation was a major problem for me. You see, I can't legally drive in the State of California. Back in 2002, I was extremely ill (see my other blog, BerthaButtNoMore, if you want the 411 on that), and my sister thought it would be good idea if I had a handicapped sticker, especially since she spent an awful lot of time driving me to the hospital. I got the paperwork, filled it out, and due to the ongoing life-threatening health problems, I forgot about getting my doctor to complete the application. By the time I started feeling better, the deadline for getting the paperwork to the Department of Motor Vehicles had passed. There was a penalty for this transgression--I had to surrender my driver's license to the DMV official who refused to accept the paperwork, even though my primary care physician signed off on them. Furthermore, she informed me that I won't be able to get another one until I take a behind the wheel driver's test. This made no sense to me then, and it defies logic now. I didn't own a car then, and I still don't own one. But DMV's action meant that I had rely on public transportation to get around, unless a family member or friend gave me a ride.

Public transportation in Sacramento, to put it simply, sucks. A "discounted" disabled monthly pass costs $50.00 a month. Fifty big ones for buses that I had to wait 30 minutes to one hour in either the blazing heat or frosty chill, which is the seasonal variations of the weather in Sacramento valley. To make matters worse, the area of service is extremely limited. Many of the places I needed to go were inaccessible by bus. I wound up spending extra money for Paratransit or a taxi, which was money I couldn't afford on my limited income. Worst of all, most of the service ends around 8 pm. If you don't drive and you aren't in your final destination before the 8 o'clock witching hour, you better find a broomstick or someone with a car to whisk you home. Regional Transit claims no responsibility and couldn't care less if you have to do the big foot for 10 miles to get home. That might be fine for a perfectly healthy person, but that doesn't work for someone (me) who has had five major surgeries in the past three years. Simply put, most of my money was being used on rent and transportation. I had to utilize food closets to eat, and buy hygiene products at a Dollar Tree. Not that anything's wrong with Dollar Tree. I love the place. I wouldn't have had soap, lotion and toilet paper without it. But doing the Dollar Tree/food closet shuffle was exhausting when you have to do it on Sacramento Regional Transit after so many surgeries. I barely had any energy to do things I love doing, like write for this blog and BerthaButtNoMore.

I had been considering the move to Oakland for almost a year, but after being caught out after that 8 o'clock hour one night and spending an outrageous amount of money on a cab, I realized that it was time to get out Sactown. I love the place, don't get me wrong. I was born there (as of March 27th of this year) 54 years ago, 15 months before all of us Shortts were shipped off to Itazuke Air Base in Fukouka, Japan. Sacramento been my home on and off until us Shortts finally settled there in 1973.

But everything in life eventually ends, and in this case, for the better. I now pay $20 for an AC Transit monthly disabled pass and I pay the disabled rate of 67% off for BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit, the railway system that connects most Bay Area cities). I can get to just about anywhere I want in San Francisco, the East Bay and even the South Bay. I don't have to rush to be home by 8pm anymore, or pay extra money for a cab just to groceries.

The other reasons are a bit more elusive as far as an explanation goes. Over the past five years, I've been noticing an increase in what I can only describe as rude, crude and sometimes overtly violent behavior on the part of some Sacramentans. But I really don't want to delve into that. I'm way too tired.

Sorry, Sacramento, but I just can't afford you anymore. Goodbye, and good luck to my hapless Kings! You look pretty bad this year, but I love ya' anyway!

Right now, we are all Japanese

2011-03-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

The place:United States Air Force base, which was named Itazuke Air Base back in 1959. The date was probably sometime in July of that year; I can't be totally certain because I'm getting the second hand version of the courtesy of years of re-telling through both of my parents. But I was a fifteen month old inquisitive toddler, according to Mom, and my sister Tam was four months old. As the story goes, a colonel and his wife took care of Tam as my exhausted mother slept on the very long flight from Travis Air Force to Itazuke, where we were to join my father and live on the base. Apparently, the colonel's wife still held Tam in her arms as we exited the plane. My father approached the couple and this was the dialog that he says took place:

Dad: Give me my baby!
Colonel's wife: How do you know she's your baby?
Dad: Because I would know my stuff anywhere!

Dad, in his millionth re-telling of this story, says everyone cracked up laughing. I don't think I did. At 15 months old, I probably looked up at the adults who were, once again, behaving strangely.

That was my introduction to the great nation of Japan. By the way, my father still refers to Tam as "Stuff". She does not like it, but after 50+ years, what can you do? Yes, he does have a nickname for me. And no, I'm not telling you what it is. Way too embarrassing.

There's another story that my parents liked to tell us and everyone else who would listen. (An aside: Isn't that what parents do? Tell stories about how you were as a baby, even though you have no memory of the events? Pretty ingenious, actually. You are therefore rendered unable to refute their authenticity.) The story goes like this:

My parents took Tam and I to their favorite Japanese restaurant in downtown Fukuoka(I wonder if that's when I developed my love of tempura and chicken katsu), and after dinner, decided to walk around sightseeing. We were all enjoying the evening (that's what they said anyway) when two Japanese women who have been described as young on some occasions and elderly on others, approached us. They were smiling, pointing at Tam and I and speaking way too rapidly for Dad to figure out what they were saying. Upon seeing that my parents had no idea what they were saying, they picked up Tam and I and sauntered down the crowded sidewalk as if it were the most natural thing the world to take two American children with them. Mom said she looked at Dad (with her typical :O expression, no doubt) and they followed the women while yelling, "Hey! Where are you going with our daughters?" or something like that. Who knows? The story changed over the years.

With our parents chasing them through the crowd, the women took Tam and I into a shop. When our parents rushed in, the ladies had Tam and I sitting up on the counter top. They were laughing and touching our curly-Q hair as if it were the most amazing thing they've ever seen. We didn't seem to mind because our mouths were stuffed with rice candy, which is (if you've never tried it), is very sweet and chewy. My mother, the ultimate clean freak, must have felt sick when she saw our candy smeared, sticky faces.

The ladies were unperturbed by our parents appearance. They smiled and pointed to the Shirley Temple dolls that were on display in window. Apparently, they thought my sister and I were chocolate-covered versions of the 1930s child star. After they figured out what was happening, Mom and Dad laughed. The women meant no harm to us, in fact, they were quite generous (Tam and I probably felt that way), and very courteous. Language was the barrier that prevented them from expressing what they thought to my parents. They bowed deeply to Mom and Dad and lovingly stroked our faces before handing us back to them.

That's the only impression I have of our time in Japan--being fawned over by two ladies who admired our curly hair adorned with ribbons, perfectly starched petticoat dresses, lacy ankle socks and shiny Mary Jane shoes. (Another aside--I know we looked like that because that's how Mom dressed us until we were transferred to Forbes Air Force Base in 1964. I had no choice in the matter when we were at Itazuke, but as I grew older I hated being dressed like a doll.)

This early emotional connection to Japan is what I feel now as I watch hour upon hour of CNN coverage of the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear power plant crisis. I remind myself that God knows more than I do, but I still feel deeply sad and horrified by the devastation rendered upon the people of that country. I know I'm not alone in these sentiments. Most of the people of this world, save for a negligible and quite ignorant few, has united in prayer and hope that Japan will completely recover from this tragedy.

I turned to Baha'i Writings for reassurance that this, like many other tragedies suffered by human beings all over the world, is a test of faith in God's Will for mankind, and that Japan will experience the healing that will inevitably come after such tests. This is what I read in Shoghi Effendi's book, "Japan Will Turn Ablaze!":

Letters and Cable to the Bahá'ís of Japan in the Early Days,

1922-1931

My well-beloved brethren and sisters in 'Abdu'l-Bahá: --

Despondent and sorrowful, though I be in these darksome days, yet whenever I call to mind the hopes our departed Master so confidently reposed in the friends in that Far-Eastern land, hope revives within me and drives away the gloom of His bereavement. As His attendant and secretary for well-nigh two years after the termination of the Great War, I recall so vividly the radiant joy that transfigured His Face wherever I opened before Him your supplications as well as those of Miss Agnes Alexander. What promises He gave us all regarding the future of the Cause in that land at the close of almost every supplication I read to Him! Let me state, straightway, the most emphatic, the most inspiring of them all. These are His very words, that still keep ringing in my ears; -- "Japan will turn ablaze! Japan is endowed with a most remarkable capacity for the spread of the Cause of God! Japan, with (another country whose name He stated but bade us conceal it for the present) will take the lead in the spiritual reawakening of the peoples and nations that the world shall soon witness!" On another occasion, -- how vividly I recall it! -- as He reclined on His chair, with eyes closed with bodily fatigue, He waved His hand and uttered vigorously and cheerfully these words in the presence of His friends: -- "Here we are seated calm, quiet and inactive, but the Hand of the Unseen is ever active and triumphant in lands, even as distant as Japan."

(Shoghi Effendi, Japan Will Turn Ablaze, p. 71)

Abdu'l-Baha' said, "Japan will turn ablaze! Japan is endowed with a most remarkable capacity for the spread of the Cause of God!" According to CNN reports this afternoon, Japan is 90% Buddhist (Shinto), although Christianity and other religions (the Baha'i Faith being one of them) comprise varying amounts of the remaining 10%. Japan, working with another country, (I wish I could say it will be the U.S., but something deep inside of me says that is just nationalism and ego talking), will "take the lead in the spiritual reawakening of the peoples and nations that the world shall soon witness."

I pray that we are witnessing the beginning of this spiritual reawakening now.

A "Pain Ray"?

2010-08-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

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I found this little item on Rachel Maddow's website via Twitter...you know, doing the social media scoping and snooping (hereby known as SMS&S, only on this blog) and I promptly forgot about the story I was originally looking for. This was far more diabolical, provocative, so...Star War-ish, that I had to check it out. Yes, I wrote "Star War-ish", with a nod to comedian Jaime Foxx's stand up routine. Come on now, if you watched the video you have to admit, there are similarities--think of a miniaturized, non-lethal Death Star, or those energy bolts streaming from Emperor Palpatine's hands that tortured poor Luke Skywalker. The difference is that the rays are invisible (Isn't it a shame that CG effects don't work in real life?), and as far as I know, they do not kill. At least for now they don't, although I suspect that someone is working feverishly to produce a terminating option for a very generous price. Obviously, someone in the research and development department of that company spent even more time than I did watching the Star Wars trilogy.

A pain ray? Are they serious?

Yes, to the tune of the Pentagon's 40 million dollars to a private company (whose name I couldn't catch when I watched the video)to develop this "crowd control" dispenser of agony. I don't know about you, but I don't like being hit with scalding hot water. According to Rachel Maddow, that's what the "pain ray" feels like. No, thank you. Years ago,I accidentally toppled a large pot of boiling water and pasta on myself, and all reasonable thought immediately left my brain. And my mouth emitted sounds that could only be described as lupine in origin. After twenty years, I still have visible scars from that burn lacing across my belly.

So, the Pentagon wanted to get its money's worth of use from this new toy, and off it went to Afghanistan. Supposedly, the purpose of the pain ray's deployment was to help clear out crowds who have the temerity to gather around U.S. troops while they perform their appointed duty of routing out the Taliban and Al Qaeda. However, the Pentagon must have been surprised that the military brass promptly sent the devil ray back to America. They didn't want it or need it. Think about that. In a war torn, violence-riddled country like Afghanistan, where there are snipers and insurgents hiding on nearly every block, the generals of the armed forces DID NOT WANT this device! Makes you wonder why, doesn't it?

However, did you think the Pentagon was going to let that 40 million hard-working taxpayers' dollars go to waste? No, no, no...the combined intelligentsia in the Pentagon live by the code of "where there's a will, there's a way." These highly trained, extremely smart people created a miniature version of the original (it's a mere 7 feet tall, versus the Humvee-sized prototype), and offered this "crowd control" device to the Los Angeles County criminal justice system. For free, that is. The caveat, I suppose, is they can use the pain ray on recalcitrant prisoners for free, if the jail administrators provide them with a full report regarding the efficacy of the pain ray generator. As you can imagine, L.A. county didn't hesitate to accept this brand-new, fresh-out-of-the-box toy. They are more than happy to test the instrument on the prison inmates.

Hmmm. I don't want to go into a long diatribe about this. There are plenty of blogs that relish doing that sort of thing. I used to do that too, not very long ago. But what I have to say blanches comparatively to what‘Abdu’l-Bahá says in Some Answered Questions:

Question.—Should a criminal be punished, or forgiven and his crime overlooked?

Answer.—There are two sorts of retributory punishments. One is vengeance, the other, chastisement. Man has not the right to take vengeance, but the community has the right to punish the criminal; and this punishment is intended to warn and to prevent so that no other person will dare to commit a like crime. This punishment is for the protection of man’s rights, but it is not vengeance; vengeance appeases the anger of the heart by opposing one evil to another. This is not allowable, for man has not the right to take vengeance. But if criminals were entirely forgiven, the order of the world would be upset. So punishment is one of the essential necessities for the safety of communities, but he who is oppressed by a transgressor has not the right to take vengeance. On the contrary, he should forgive and pardon, for this is worthy of the world of man.

The communities must punish the oppressor, the murderer, the malefactor, so as to warn and restrain others from committing like crimes. But the most essential thing is that the people must be educated in such a way that no crimes will be committed; for it is possible to educate the masses so effectively that they will avoid and shrink from perpetrating crimes, so that the crime itself will appear to them as the greatest chastisement, the utmost condemnation and torment. Therefore, no crimes which require punishment will be committed.

I encourage the reader to click on the hyperlink above the quoted text to read the rest of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá's answer to the question of how we should treat criminals. O was particularly intrigued by this statement:

Thus when Christ said: “Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the left one also,” 1 it was for the purpose of teaching men not to take personal revenge. He did not mean that, if a wolf should fall upon a flock of sheep and wish to destroy it, the wolf should be encouraged to do so. No, if Christ had known that a wolf had entered the fold and was about to destroy the sheep, most certainly He would have prevented it.

As forgiveness is one of the attributes of the Merciful One, so also justice is one of the attributes of the Lord. The tent of existence is upheld upon the pillar of justice and not upon forgiveness. The continuance of mankind depends upon justice and not upon forgiveness. So if, at present, the law of pardon were practiced in all countries, in a short time the world would be disordered, and the foundations of human life would crumble. For example, if the governments of Europe had not withstood the notorious Attila, he would not have left a single living man.

Please read the entire selection. Let me know what you think.

Gratitude

2010-08-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

Apparently, there are more than five people reading this blog, which is something I didn't know before. Quite frankly, I've been neglecting this piece of the blogosphere for other writing ventures, such as the Sacramento Baha'i Examiner, Angela's eHow page and BerthaButtNoMore, not to mention one story for Associated Content and another for Bukisa.com. Then there's the social media thing, you know, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Digg...good grief, there are so many ways to get lost (or addicted) on the Internet!

I've been feeling a lot of guilt about my attention deficit for this site, especially since it was my initial foray into the world of blogging on the Internet. But quite a few of you haven't forgotten about it, and for that reason, this four year old mashup of my foibles, reflections and always evolving perspective of the Baha'i Faith was voted as one of the top 100 Baha'i blogs by Online University.

When I was notified of the award, I was bit mystified--I hadn't written anything on this site since last February. How could this blog be anything close to the "top"? (I'm not getting into a literary aesthetic/definition debate over the terms "top" or "best" or any other superlative; I did that ad nauseum during graduate school.) Besides, there are MANY excellent blogs written by Baha'is these days, how could anyone decide which are the "best"? Do you see where I'm going here? This how my mind spins around, constantly! I make myself dizzy with my breaking-the-sound- barrier thought speedway!

What it comes down to is that I am both surprised and humbled by the recognition. This is what Amy Wilkes of Online University emailed to me:

Congratulations! Amy here, and your blog, Yeah..and so, anyway, was
determined to be an essential part of our resources, and has received our
Top Baha'i Blogs award presented by Online University!

You can see your name amongst our winners here at: www.onlineuniversity.org/top_bahai/#Yeahand_so_anyway

Our unique learning system uses the resources available on the blogosphere
as our teaching tool, as you are smarter than us when it comes to your topic
of interest, and this is why you have been awarded as a top blog.

So, this blog is an essential part of their educational resources. Wow! I never expected that when I started this blog in 2006. In fact, I didn't know what I was doing back then. But the site has evolved to become a place where I can write about the Baha'i Faith and how being a Baha'i affects different aspects of my life. Since this is more or less my personal opinions (in sharp contrast to what I write on the Sacramento Baha'i Examiner, which is primarily written in the neutral third person), the idea that "Yeah..., and so anyway... is considered an educational resource is astonishing to me. And it is challenging. I do feel obligated to provide accurate information to readers, regardless of what I'm writing about. I was trained in the old school of journalism--"just the facts, madam, just the facts." I can write about myself and my observations of life as merely my opinions, but when it comes the Baha'i Faith, it's important to me to as objective and truthful as I possibly can.

In fact, journalism is the ONLY profession that has been specifically addressed in the Writings of Baha'u'llah (all other professions are referred to in a general way as "the arts", "the sciences", "crafts" or "trades". Here's what Baha'u'llah has to say to people who work in the news business (which was limited to the production of books, magazines, newspapers and pamphlets in the latter part of the 19th century):

In this Day the secrets of the earth are laid bare before the eyes of men. The pages of swiftly-appearing newspapers are indeed the mirror of the world. They reflect the deeds and the pursuits of divers peoples and kindreds. They both reflect them and make them known. They are a mirror endowed with hearing, sight and speech. This is an amazing and potent phenomenon. However, it behoveth the writers thereof to be purged from the promptings of evil passions and desires and to be attired with the raiment of justice and equity. They should enquire into situations as much as possible and ascertain the facts, then set them down in writing.

(Baha'u'llah, Tablets of Baha'u'llah, p. 39-40)

My goal and my prayer is that when I sit in front of my computer to write, I will be purged from the promptings of evil passions and desires, and "be attired with the raiment of justice and equity." These are my instructions, my "marching orders". Yes, I do take these words written by Baha'u'llah very seriously. To best of my ability, I hope I can deliver words that reflect justice and equity to my readers.

Thank you, everyone, for reading my blog and I promise to update it more often!

Oops--a clarification--I am going to have a very complicated surgery on my right foot on September 1, 2010. I can probably grind out one more post before then, but I will be completely out of commission and on non-weight bearing status for about two months after surgery. You can read more about the procedure (if you are morbidly curious or have nothing else to do right now)on my other blog, BerthaButtNoMore.

For now, I leave you with the words of 'Abdu'l-Baha':

I supplicate God that ye may become the army of that kingdom, in order that by the power of the Most Great Name, the friends of God may conquer this world through love, friendship and the strength of the Kingdom of peace; the human race become compassionate, and bloodshed and carnage be completely effaced from the universe.

The spirit of truth is soaring on the supreme apex, like unto a bird, in order that it may discover a severed heart and alight therein and make its nest.

I hope that all the friends become manifestors of knowledge and the centers of merciful feelings. Each of them become like unto an angel and radiate heavenly deeds, thoughts and actions.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Baha'i World Faith - Abdu'l-Baha Section, p. 409)

Life isn't always fair, but I love it anyway!

2010-02-16T17:46:00.005-08:00

'Abdu'l-Bahá on Suffering and Tests
"Does the soul progress more through sorrow or through the joy in this world?"

`Abdu'l-Bahá. -- "The mind and spirit of man advance when he is tried by suffering. The more the ground is ploughed the better the seed will grow, the better the harvest will be. Just as the plough furrows the earth deeply, purifying it of weeds and thistles, so suffering and tribulation free man from the petty affairs of this worldly life until he arrives at a state of complete detachment. His attitude in this world will be that of divine happiness. Man is, so to speak, unripe: the heat of the fire of suffering will mature him. Look back to the times past and you will find that the greatest men have suffered most."
Paris Talks: Addresses given by `Abdu'l-Bahá in Paris in 1911-1912, 11th ed. (London: Bahá'í Publishing Trust, 1979), pp. 178-79.

I never think about personal suffering, in fact, I have trouble accepting the concept of suffering and applying it to myself. I have tests, life challenges. My issues never involve anything that can't be overcome, one way or another. For the longest time (most of my life, in fact), my biggest challenge has been food addiction and morbid obesity. God has answered my prayers and guided me to a 12 step program of recovery from both conditions. (I discuss this more in depth on my other blog, BerthaButtNoMore. You can read all about it on http://noberthabutt.blogspot.com/ Shameless plug alert.)

However, there have been long term consequences for being so large for so long. I've had two hernia ruptures (and emergency surgeries) in the past two years, and I'm scheduled for abdominal wall repair surgery on April 1 so that I won't have any more hernias breaking open and wrecking havoc with my life. I also have a two inch tear in a tendon in my right foot. Walking is painful. I'm wearing a big Frankenstein velcro-fastened boot/cast thingy now, but in two weeks I will be wearing a specially designed brace that will hopefully correct my collapsible arches and take the pressure of that abused tendon so it will heal. If that doesn't work after four months, then I will be looking at tendon repair surgery.

These are tests, challenges. Friends who have seen me in rapidly declining health over the past twenty years have said pretty same things, with a few variations: "Oh my God, you have suffered so much already and now THIS? That isn't fair! You've lost so much weight and you're STILL dealing with health issues?"

Well, yes. I STILL have major health issues. Don't get me wrong; a few weeks ago I was having hourly talks (aka serious wailing and moaning) with God about the unfairness of it all. And through the loving support of my Baha'i friends and my 12 step recovery group, I got through my little tantrum. No, what I'm going through are definitely challenges, issues that with the Divine Assistance of God and the people in my life, I can get through. I am getting through them so I can actively and more effectively do what I'm supposed to do--be of service to mankind.

The Baha'is of Iran are SUFFERING, along with their countrymen. The people of Haiti, Somalia, South Africa, Uganda, India, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Uzbekistan, Russia, Bosnia, Croatia, Romania...they are SUFFERING, and most of their suffering is not of their own doing. Their plight is caused, in my opinion, by the monumental disparity between the uber-wealthy and desperately poor. These are situations that are beyond any one person's control. It will take world-wide spiritual awakening to bring about justice and healing to those who are such great need.

Would I want to be tested in the same manner of far too many people in this world? Of course not. Nor would I want any family member or friend to be put through such pain. But I keep in mind this basic spiritual teachings that are fundamental in both Christianity and the Baha'i Faith: God will never give you more than you can handle, and even those will eventually pass. It's not fun to go through tests, but it's reassuring to know that they are not only part of the great cycle of life, and they are surmountable. I am learning that when I get out of being so self-centered and caught in the supposed drama of my life, I am more available to be of service to those around me. One day, I will be strong enough to be of service to an even wider circle of people.

After all, that's what being a Baha'i is all about, isn't it?

From "Paris Talks" by Abdu'l-Baha', pg. 100:

It is my dearest hope that you may all become a blessing to others, that you may give sight to the spiritually blind, hearing to the spiritually deaf and life to those who are dead in sin. May you help those sunk in materiality to realize their Divine son-ship, and encourage them to arise and be worthy of their birthright; so that by your endeavour the world of humanity may become the Kingdom of God and of His elect. I thank God that we are at one in this grand ideal, that my longings are also yours and that we work together in perfect unity. Today, upon the earth, one sees the sad spectacle of cruel war! Man slays his brother man for selfish gain, 101 and to enlarge his territories! For this ignoble ambition hate has taken possession of his heart, and more and more blood is shed! Fresh battles are fought, the armies are increased, more cannon, more guns, more explosives of all kinds are sent out—so does bitterness and hate augment from day to day!
But this assembly, thank God, longs only for peace and unity, and must work with heart and soul to bring about a better condition in the world. You who are the servants of God fight against oppression, hate and discord, so that wars may cease and God’s laws of peace and love may be established among men.

A Burning in the Belly

2009-09-14T17:34:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to completely express what I'm feeling right now, but it's been steadily increasing every day. This...whatever it is...began with that night I happened to be on Twitter, and the protests over the Iran elections broke out. I found myself up until 2 am, reading tweets and passing them on. That's when I first noticed the fire in my solar plexus. The image of myself that I received is of one of those old fashioned train engines that had been left broken down and rusting in a rail yard, forgotten and considered useless. Then a group of history buffs and train enthusiasts decide that the old girl still has a lot more use left in her, so they repair and clean her up, load up the water and coal and start her up. She's slow moving at first; it's been a long time since she's moved even an inch. Her entire body feels stiff and cranky. But she chugs along, enjoying the ride and seeing how much the landscape around her has changed since she was out of commission. As the engineers load up the coal and fire begins to burn even higher, she remembers: this is what it is like RUN, to be alive. To be free to move.

That's how I'm feeling now. My recovery from food addiction is going well, and I'm more active than I've been in many years. And my engine, which is being fed by God instead of massive amounts of the wrong types of food, has revving faster each day. I've had so many thoughts, ideas and stories that are just begging to be written that I realize that 24 hours isn't enough time for me to get to all of them. And I still have to work my recovery program, which actually comes first, even though writing is a lot more fun. But I do it anyway.

For years, I was unable to write much of anything. The fact that I have so much to write about is directly related to my personal relationship with God as my guiding force in life. That all began a little over two years ago, when I attended workshop at Bosch Baha'i School. A few months later, I met a young lady who introduced me to a 12-step program of recovery from food addiction. That's when my life changed drastically on all levels. For the first time in my life, I realized that God has been with me every second of my life--I allowed food and other addicting activities to come between our relationship. I don't want that to happen anymore.

By putting down the excess food and picking a simple plan of daily living, I've discovered that all I've ever really wanted was to be of service to God and to mankind. I knew that was my reason for being on this earth even as young as three years old, although I didn't have the vocabulary to express it. But I did it through actions. I wanted to save other kids from bullies, and everyone I knew from "mean, nasty, bad people". Of course, I've had to learn some pretty harsh lessons about acting on that "savior" instinct. Let me tell you--it doesn't work when the ego is involved. God created me HIS servant; I'm supposed to get my instructions on what to do with this being-of-service instinct from Him. I'm still learning how to do this. I've said it a million times: I'm a very willful person, as stubborn and hard-headed as anyone could possibly be. Most of the time, it's a one step forward, four steps back process. But that's better than trying to run backwards and wondering why I kept falling down.

It's no accident that I became a Baha'i 23 years ago, and that I kept seeking spiritual solutions to my everyday problems. One of my favorite books written by Baha'u'llah is the Hidden Words:

O SON OF SPIRIT! I created thee rich, why dost thou bring thyself down to poverty? Noble I made thee, wherewith dost thou abase thyself? Out of the essence of knowledge I gave thee being, why seekest thou enlightenment from anyone beside Me? Out of the clay of love I molded thee, how dost thou busy thyself with another? Turn thy sight unto thyself, that thou mayest find Me standing within thee, mighty, powerful and self-subsisting.

It's taken many years of ramming my head against a steel door to learn how to turn down the volume on the incessant chattering in my brain, get quiet and listen for the guidance. It does come. And even if I think I don't hear anything, I've discovered that if I make phone calls to my fellow food addicts, they will, strangely enough, hear what I need to hear and relay the message. Often, it's a very humbling process. People with savior complexes love to think that they are the ones with the direct pipelines to the Eternal. Now I know that everyone has access--it's a matter of choosing to use it. Apparently, the message is for me to rely upon God first, and when I'm struggling with that concept, God will speak to me through other people. I've tested this many times because (as I stated before), I don't learn these things quickly. But it has NEVER failed.

“The inspiration received through meditation is of a nature that one cannot measure or determine. God can inspire into our minds things that we had no previous knowledge of, if He desires to do so.“We cannot clearly distinguish between personal desire and guidance, but if the way opens, when we have sought guidance, then we may presume God is helping us.”

Shoghi Effendi: Directives from the Guardian, pgs. 77-78, 173 edition.
So what's changed in my life as a result of this? All I can do is list some of things because the number of blessings is startling and humbling:
1. I can feel the presence of God working in my life everyday, and express deep gratitude for that throughout the day;
2. I am much more connected to my life, along with my mind, body and spirit, AND to the people around me;
3. I no longer think that I'm starving between meals or that I'm on a torturous diet;
4. I'm being of service through writing for the Examiner.com as the Sacramento Baha'i Examiner, and for other online web sites. In other words, I'm doing what I TRULY love--write, and be in the process of earning a living while engaging in my passion.
5. I get to do things like walk with my family and/or friends to different events, go to the grocery store, play with my grandson, ride on amusement park rides, go places without someone pushing me in a wheelchair.
6. Finally,since I've lost enough weight to satisfy my orthopedic surgeon that I'm a good candidate for a total hip replacement, I have the surgery date set: October 1 2009 at the Kaiser Permanente Hospital in Roseville, CA. I can't tell you how thrilled I am about this! I WILL be able to take Tae Kwon Do and dance lessons this year!

None of this would be possible without the Baha'i Faith and my 12-step recovery program. There isn't any food in the world, or for that matter, any relationship with the opposite sex that feels better than being in conscious contact with God as much as possible each day. You don't even have to do pray and meditate "perfectly" before the miracles begin to happen. Trust me--I thought I was nothing more than a grossly obese circus freak in wheelchair eight years ago. I was totally dependent on my family to help me get around. That's no longer the case. It feels good to be able to go for a walk, just because I can. And my family no longer has to worry about me dying in my sleep the way they used to.

God IS truly amazing!

"Interesting" comments

2009-08-21T14:53:00.000-07:00

The Sacramento Baha'i Examiner (that's me, by the way) received the following comments as feedback to a recent post about the persecution of Baha'is in Iran:

"The Bahai are a cult, like the branch dravidians or scientologist. The only discrimination they suffer is the scorn of the masses. During the revolution more than 30000 people died, and a few hundred were Bahais, it's not a beyond reasonable percentage given the turmoil of the day. As far as university discrimination and illegality of Bahai land ownership, this is complete disinformation. The only land Bahai's can not buy is land for cult practices and indoctrination of youth. Honestly, it is in the best interests of society that the government should eradicate this harmful cult, god willing, when the corrupt mullahs are removed a new secular government can also take more forceful corrective actions against this blight of a cult."

I've heard the "scorn of the masses" type comment before, but the "a few hundred Bahai deaths is a reasonable percentage" Does it ever occur to some people that no one should HAVE to die for their basic human rights?

The author does not address university discrimination (I can't help but wonder why), but the land ownership rebuttal almost made me laugh. Okay, so, Baha'is cannot buy land for "cult practices", so they can't have a center or a temple in Iran. So where do they gather to pray and hold the Nineteen Day Feast? In each other's homes! Well, glory be, perhaps THAT'S how they have been kicked out of their homes!

And indoctrination of youth? That's what they call Baha'i schools, which were open to every child in Iran regardless of religious affiliation or economic status? Well, no wonder they closed them down!

This, however, is the most chilling statement:
"Honestly, it is in the best interests of society that the government should eradicate this harmful cult, god willing, when the corrupt mullahs are removed a new secular government can also take more forceful corrective actions against this blight of a cult."

I wonder how many other Iranians feel this way? I am grateful to be an American citizen when I read statements like that, and that I have the freedom to worship in the way that spiritually nourishes me. Not only that, I have freedom of speech, which enables to me to express my opinions publicly and to speak up on behalf of those who cannot, such as the Baha'is in Iran or the people of Darfur.

The previously quoted statement gives me valuable insight into mindset of some of the people who wish harm upon a group who obey the laws of the Iranian government and do not revolt or participate in the political machinations of their country. Cult? NO Baha'i is allowed to separate themselves from their families, friends, country or the world; that goes against the basic principle of unity as taught by Baha'u'llah!

"The earth is one country, and mankind is its citizens." Baha'u'llah.

I guess loving humanity is a weird, esoteric, cult practice. Odd how hate, anger, and suspicion are considered "normal" in this world.

A dream of Iran...

2009-06-13T19:53:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last week about Iran and the United States, and it scared me out of a deep sleep. I purposely wiped my mind clean of the dream's details. I am powerless over the events in this country and in Iran; I can only do what I can to make myself be in the service of God and humanity a little bit more each day. For now, that involves working my recovery program so I'm not zoned out on food, making as much of my daily life as possible be acts of prayer, and to make sure that people are aware of the situations that befall us on this Earth because we are not looking for spiritual solutions to our problems. That's all I can do. I'm just, as a friend has said so often, "another bozo on the bus."

But God obviously wants me to participate in this business of being a world citizen. While I was working on this post, I've been checking my Twitter stream. After clicking on a link to a story, I read this blog post from The Daily Dish:
"My next door neighbor is an Iranian immigrant who came here in 1977. He just received a SAT phone call from his brother in Tehran who reports that the rooftops of nighttime Tehran are filled with people shouting 'Allah O Akbar' in protest of the government and election results. The last time he remembers this happening is in 1979 during the Revolution. Says the sound of tens of thousands on the rooftops is deafening right now."

Earlier this afternoon, I re-tweeted (re-posted, for those who are unfamiliar with TwitterTalk) the following:
ALL internet & mobile networks are cut. We ask everyone in Tehran to go onto their rooftops and shout ALAHO AKBAR in protest #IranElection

Another bozo on the bus, remember. Yeah, one of many. As it turns out, that tweet went all around the world, resulting in thousands of Iranians up on their rooftops, shouting:
13 Jun 2009 07:14 pm

The Revolution Will Be Twittered (Angela's aside:I LOVE this reference to Gil Scott Heron's song from the 70s, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised!):

Mock not. As the regime shut down other forms of communication, Twitter survived. With some remarkable results. Those rooftop chants that were becoming deafening in Tehran? A few hours ago, this concept of resistance was spread by a twitter message.
(It's at night in Iran, so some of the images are difficult to make out. But you know they are protesting.)

Hmmm. Here's the rest of the blog post from the The Daily Dish by Andrew Sullivan:
That a new information technology could be improvised for this purpose so swiftly is a sign of the times. It reveals in Iran what the Obama campaign revealed in the United States. You cannot stop people any longer. You cannot control them any longer. They can bypass your established media; they can broadcast to one another; they can organize as never before.

It's increasingly clear that Ahmadinejad and the old guard mullahs were caught off-guard by this technology and how it helped galvanize the opposition movement in the last few weeks. That's why they didn't see what those of us surgically attached to modems could spot a mile away: something was happening in Iran. If Drum is right, the mullahs believed their own propaganda about victory until reality hit them so hard so fast, they miscalculated badly and over-reached.

The key force behind this is the next generation, the Millennials, who elected Obama in America and may oust Ahmadinejad in Iran. They want freedom; they are sick of lies; they enjoy life and know hope.

This generation will determine if the world can avoid the apocalypse that will come if the fear-ridden establishments continue to dominate global politics, motivated by terror, armed with nukes, and playing old but now far too dangerous games. This generation will not bypass existing institutions and methods: look at the record turnout in Iran and the massive mobilization of the young and minority vote in the US. But they will use technology to displace old modes and orders. Maybe this revolt will be crushed. But even if it is, the genie has escaped this Islamist bottle.

Maybe that's what we're hearing on the rooftops of Tehran: the sound of the next revolution.

Allah O Akbar!

No one, not even the powerful, can thwart God's Will! Ya Baha'ul'Abha!

The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.
(Baha'u'llah, Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, p. 250)

Consider! The people of the East and the West were in the utmost strangeness. Now to what a high degree they are acquainted with each other and united together! How far are the inhabitants of Persia from the remotest countries of America! And now observe how great has been the influence of the heavenly power, for the distance of thousands of miles has become identical with one step! How various nations that have had no relations or similarity with each other are now united and agreed through this divine potency! Indeed to God 103 belongs power in the past and in the future! And verily God is powerful over all things!

(Abdu'l-Baha, Tablets of the Divine Plan, p. 102)

JOHNATHAN MCCOY'S SPEECH ON WHY THE "N" WORD SHOULD BE ELIMINATED

2009-06-05T14:21:00.001-07:00

Cornel West, Eddie Glaude, and six degrees...

2009-06-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a story about the legacy of racism and the dawning of hope and healing in this country for the Religion and Spirituality section (Sacramento Edition) of the online newspaper, Examiner.com. I attended a screening of the documentary "Stand", produced and directed by Tavis Smiley, and featuring Dr. Cornel West, and several other admirable men. To summarize the plot, Tavis made a road trip documentary because he wanted to find some answers to the question, "What happened to Dr. Martin Luther King's dream?" I'm not sure if there are any answers, but certainly more provocative questions are raised during the 90 minute film. But the story for me was personal, a literal six-degree-of-separation type of thing.

Dr. Cornel West, the esteemed Princeton professor, author and lecturer, was born on June 2, 1953 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I know that because Tavis Smiley announced it during the screening. So Brotha West is a Gemini. Just had to throw that in, you know. Anyway, his family moved farther west to Sacramento, California (six degrees coming, wait for it...)to the Glen Elders section of town. Most people outside of Sac Town don't know about the Elders, but it had the "thug" rep way before any current rappers were zygotes. Tough place to live, even in the early 60s. Eventually, the West family moved to the Land Park area, which is...well, "Brady Bunch-ish". But Dr. West had learned to be "gangsta" from the Elders (it's not hard to do, believe me), and he was bounced around the Sacramento City Unified School District several times. (I'm not relaying gossip; he said so himself after the movie!)

He attended high school at the then newly built John F. Kennedy High School in the south Land Park neighborhood, and here's where the six degrees comes in--one of his buddies on the track team with him was Joseph Taylor, the older brother of one of my best friends, Kim. I heard about Cornel West through Kim, who used to talk about "Joseph's friend Cornel, always talking that revolution stuff!" Neither of us could have imagined that he would one day become the esteemed author and speaker that he is now. He was one of "Joe's friends", a guy who was five years older than us and had gone off the start a revolution while attending college. I guess, in a manner of speaking, he did. He's written 19 books so far, most of which were bestsellers. Not too bad for a "thug" from the Elders, huh? Never give up. Never say die.

The screening was held in the multipurpose room of the Irene B. West Elementary School in Elk Grove, California. The school was named for Dr. West's mother, Irene, who became the first African American female principal in Sacramento. Mrs. West was there, along with her oldest son, Cliff, Dr. West and his son (whose name I didn't catch), one of her daughters, Cynthia, Tavis and other family members. After the movie, (which was excellent by the way), I couldn't get anywhere near Dr. West, but I did get to speak to Cliff. I had to ask him a question--what was the name of the young Princeton professor who was traveling with y'all in the movie?"

"Eddie Glaude," he said. "He comes from Moss Point, Mississippi."

That was the reason why I asked that question. I didn't think anything good besides my daddy would ever come from Moss Point! Don't mean to insult anyone from my daddy's home town, but the place is just pure- D Mississippi backwoods COUNTRY! It was so hot and sticky during the summers the Shortt family visited there that the air got too tired and irritated to move! They had juke joints with old, tired and hung-over men sitting in rickety chairs out front. And no one else did much of anything during the day. There's nothing to do!

Imagine my utter shock when Tavis Smiley said that Eddie Glaude, one of the "Soul Patrol" members who appears in "Stand", is "the pride of Moss Point, Mississippi"! I couldn't wait to go home and call my daddy about it.

"Yeah, I remember the Glaudes," he told me. "They lived over on Jackson Street, if I remember correctly." Well, he doesn't always remember things at all, never mind correctly. But he's much better at remembering the distant past than the present. If he remembers the Glaude family, that means he knew them. Moss Point isn't much bigger than a postage stamp; everyone inevitably knows all the families living there. Another six degrees of separation.

"Stand" the movie has already premiered, but it will be shown on the TVOne cable channel 15 times over the next year. Here's the website:TV One Online
Dr. Eddie Glaude
Dr. Cornel West

A letter from Senator Diane Feinstein

2009-06-03T18:24:00.000-07:00

Senator Diane Feinstein with 60 Minutes' Lesley Stahl.

I received a letter from Senator Diane Feinstein about the persecution of Baha'is in Iran. Here's what she said:

Dear Ms. Shortt:

Thank you for writing to express your concerns about the persecution of the Baha'i people in Iran. I appreciate you sharing your thoughts on this topic with me and welcome the opportunity to respond.

As you may know, the Iranian Government has recently stated its intention to try seven leading members of the Baha'i community in Iran who are accused of spying for Israel, insulting religious sanctities, and propaganda against the Islamic Republic. If convicted, these individuals could receive the death penalty.

Like you, I am concerned about the safety and welfare of these individuals. During my tenure in the Senate I have often expressed my support for the rights of the Baha'i community to practice their faith freely without fear of persecution. As a strong supporter of human rights, I am committed to working to protect the rights and equality of the Baha'i people both in Iran and elsewhere around the world.

House Resolution 175, introduced by Representative Mark Kirk (R-IL), would condemn the Government of Iran for its state-sponsored persecution and continued human rights violations of the Baha'i people in Iran. Currently, this legislation is pending consideration in the U.S. House of Representatives, and at this time there is not a similar resolution pending in the Senate. Please know that I will continue to monitor the legal proceedings against the accused and keep your thoughts in mind as the Senate Debate U.S. foreign policy.

Again, thank you for writing. I hope you will continue to write on matters of importance to you. If you have any other comments or questions, please feel free to contact my Washington, D.C. office at (202) 224-3841. Best regards.

Sincerely yours,
Dianne Feinstein
United States Senator

You can read more about the persecution of Baha'is in Iran here:
Persecution of Baha'is in Iran

Phillipe Copeland, who writes the blog "Baha'i Thought", wrote about an event that the Boston community of Baha'is is hosting on Sunday, June 7:
Baha'i Thought

The blacker the berry....

2009-05-24T23:40:00.000-07:00

I missed this program, which aired tonight. I read about it on Twitter, and by the time I saw the conversation, the show had already aired. But I don't think I can get TVOne through Comcast anyway.

The comment that Michael Eric Dyson's brother made was profound: "It takes a keen eye to look beneath the rocky soil and rough exterior of a person to see the beauty of the person within." And this man is serving life in prison! Breaks my heart that some of the best minds have been locked up. I'm not saying that some shouldn't have gone to jail, or they should be let free "because the man did them wrong." I have no details about this particular brother's case. But I do know that he obviously has a sharp mind, and he can articulate his thoughts with such succinct brilliance that it is a shame of our society will not be able to benefit from his capabilities. But who knows--if it is His Will, God will use him to contribute in whatever way emerges from his prison cell.

One can only imagine what could have happened to Michael Eric Dyson's brother had been given the opportunity to advance according to his inherent talents, instead of being judged by both blacks and whites. Would he have attended an Ivy League college, earned a doctorate degree and gone on to teach in his field of expertise like his brother? Of course, we will never know. If this country had fully embraced the feelings, thoughts and behavior that Abdul-Baha' demonstrated during to His visit to New York City's infamous Bowery District during the early 1900s, how different would his life be now? Of course, this is nothing more than idle speculation, and everything happens in this material plane according to God's plan, not our self-centered needs and desires.

Howard Colby Ives, a Unitarian minister who met and accompanied 'Abdul-Baha' during his travels in the New York City in 1912, wrote the following account of 'Abdul-Baha's encounter with a group of boys from the Bowery in his book, Portals to Freedom. It bears mentioning that the United States, and indeed, New York City, was a quite different as far as race relations were concerned. The Ku Klux Klan had captured the attention of the country, and many whites joined their ranks. Most cities and towns were legally segregated, and even in the places that had no such laws, the social caste system and entrenched negative racial beliefs kept black and whites at a distance from each other. The idea of a black person being thought of as "beautiful" was considerably novel. The excerpt, in my opinion, illustrates the beautiful potential of all people to accept and love everyone regardless of how dark or light a person's skin color is:

It seemed that a few days before'Abdu'l-Bahá had gone to the Bowery Mission to speak to several hundred of New York's wretched poor. As usual, with Him went a large group of the Persian and American friends, and it made a unique spectacle as this party of Orientals in
flowing robes and strange head-gear made its way through the East Side. Not unnaturally, a number of boys gathered in their train and soon they became a little too vocal in their expression. As I remember, even some venturesome ones called names and threw sticks. As my Hostess told the story, she said: "I could not bear to hear 'Abdu'l-Bahá so treated and dropped behind the others for a moment to speak to them. In a few words, I told them Who He was; that He was a very Holy Man who had spent many years in exile and prison because of His love for Truth and for men, and that now He was on His way to speak to the poor men at the Bowery Mission."
"Can't we go too?" one who seemed to be the leader asked. I think that would be impossible, she told them, but if you come to my home next Sunday, and she gave them the address, I will arrange for you to see Him.

So here they were. We followed them up the stairs and into 'Abdu'l-Bahá's own room. I was just in time to see the last half dozen of the group entering the room. 'Abdu'l-Bahá was standing at the door and He greeted each boy as he came in; sometimes with a handclasp, sometimes with an arm around a shoulder, but always
with such smiles and laughter it almost seemed that He was a boy with them. Certainly there was no suggestion of stiffness on their part, or awkwardness in their unaccustomed surroundings. Among the last to enter the room was a colored lad of about thirteen years. He was quite dark and, being the only boy of his race among them, he evidently feared that he might not be welcome. When'Abdu'l-Bahá saw him His face lighted up with a heavenly smile. He raised His hand with a gesture of princely welcome and exclaimed in a loud voice so that none could fail to hear; that here was a black rose. The room fell into instant silence. The black face became illumined with a happiness and love hardly of this world. The other boys looked at him with new eyes. I venture to say that he had been called a black-many things, but never before a black rose.

This significant incident had given to the whole occasion a new complexion. The atmosphere of the room seemed now charged with subtle vibrations felt by every
soul. The boys, while losing nothing of their ease and simplicity, were graver and more intent upon 'Abdu'l-Bahá, and I caught them glancing again and again at the
colored boy with very thoughtful eyes. To the few of the friends in the room the scene brought visions of a new world in which every soul would be recognized and

treated as a child of God. I thought: What would happen to New York if these boys could carry away such a keen remembrance of this experience that throughout their lives, whenever they encountered any representatives of the many races and colors to be found in that great city,they would think of them and treat them as "different
colored flowers in the Garden of God." The freedom from just this one prejudice in the minds and hearts of this score or more of souls would unquestionably bring happiness and freedom from rancor to thousands of hearts. How simple and easy to be kind, I thought, and how hardly we learn.

When His visitors had arrived, 'Abdu'l-Bahá had sent out for some candy and now it appeared, a great five-pound box of expensive mixed chocolates. It was unwrapped
and 'Abdu'l-Bahá walked with it around the circle of boys, dipping His hand into the box and placing a large handful in the hands of each, with a word and
smile for everyone. He then returned to the table at which He had been sitting, and laying down the box, which now had only a few pieces in it, He picked from it a long chocolate nougat; it was very black. He looked at it a moment and then around at the group of boys who were watching Him intently and expectantly. Without a word He walked across the room to where the colored boy was sitting, and, still without speaking, but with a humorously piercing glance that swept the group, laid
the chocolate against the black cheek. His face was radiant as He laid His arm around the shoulder of the boy and that radiance seemed to fill the room.

No words were necessary to convey His meaning, and there could
be no doubt that all the boys caught it. You see, He seemed to say, that he is not only a black flower, but also a black sweet. You eat black chocolates
and find them good: perhaps you would find this black brother of yours good also if you once taste his sweetness. Again that awed hush fell upon the room. Again the
boys all looked with real wonder at the colored boy as if they had never seen him before, which indeed was true. And as for the boy himself, upon whom all eyes were now fixed, he seemed perfectly unconscious of all but 'Abdu'l-Bahá. Upon Him his eyes were fastened with an adoring, blissful look such as I had never seen upon any face. For the moment he was transformed. The reality of his being had been brought to the surface and the angel he really was revealed.

An Open Letter from a Loving Daughter

2009-05-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

At right: Fariba Kamalabadi (Taefi)

Angela's aside: We are often so besieged by news stories from all the various of media available to us that we forget that there are flesh and blood human beings involved in those reports. Their story is often trivialized by a 30 second summary of events during a newscast, or it is overly-dramatized by those wretched (my opinion) "reality" shows.

This letter touched me because it is the heartfelt words of a young lady who is going through an all too familiar tragedy in Iran--family members being taken away to face a very precarious future at the hands of a cruel and unrepentant fundamentalist theocracy. These are her words,and they are her truth, not the dispassionate reading of a carefully moussed and made up newsreader, or the overly-wrought railings of a Nancy Grace-sque reality show host. It is simply the words of a girl who misses her mother. No more embellishment is needed. But they deserve a global audience so that other people will realize that what happens to the Baha'is in Iran could happen to anyone in the world. Anywhere prejudice of any kind exists and ignorance of the Eternal Words of the Most Ancient Beauty prevails, oppression, tyranny and destruction will continue.

What has befallen me?!
May 21, 2009

Editor’s Note: Fariba Kamalabadi (Taefi) is one of the seven former Baha’i leaders, previously known as the Yaran ["Friends" in Iran]. She has been imprisoned for over a year at the notorious Evin prison in Tehran and a profile of her can be read here: What Has Befallen Me? . Mrs. Kamalabadi has two daughters: Alhan, 22 years, and Taraneh, 14. The following letter was written on the one-year anniversary of her arrest and detention.

By Alhan Taefi

Today marks one whole year that you have not been with me - now I want to express my feelings of pain and anguish during this year; a year of untold stories; a year of solitude; a year of being far from a mother!

It was this very same day last year, when I was woken up early in the morning by a phone call - a call which gave me the dreaded news that government intelligence agents had raided your home. Before I had a chance to collect myself and realize what had happened and what I must do, I received an S.M.S. from my little sister, Taraneh, saying: “they are taking away Mom; if you want to see her, come fast”! Oh my, what has befallen me?! Even after a whole year, still - remembering that moment brings pain and agony to my heart, and I can’t help but shed uncontrollable tears.

In a state of shock and disbelief, I rushed to your house, worried about what if I got there late and they had taken you already… then, when would I ever see you again!?

Finally I got there, and frantically climbed the long flight of stairs, skipping every other step, and rushed into your home. Thank God! You were still there… I was with you for a short while, and then… you were leaving. I hugged you with all my might, squeezed you, kissed you, and told you how proud I was of you. And you left… for an unknown period of time! I knew that you would not return home anytime soon, but I never thought that a year would pass and you would still be there!

You left me and I was alone… with a mountain-load of pain and sorrow. I was so dependent on you… was so in need of your advice, even on very small matters! Who knows what has befallen me during this period!? Even now, remembering the extent of my sorrow and grief makes me tremble.

I was so used to speaking with you every single day, even if it was just for one minute. For a whole 80 days after your arrest, I did not have any communication with you… and when after 80 days you called me and I did not recognize your voice, how ashamed I was of myself! I remember your words very vividly - saying “my dear, didn’t you recognize my voice?”… And I, full of happiness, melancholy, excitement, and tons of other opposing sentiments all at the same time, could not utter a word.

Oh my God, what has befallen me during this past year!? I remember in preparation for Mothers Day, when all my friends were talking about what presents they were going to buy for their moms, I forced myself not to burst into tears, in order to be strong… the same way you wanted me to be… the same way you are.

When on your birthday I could not give you a present; I kept myself happy only with memories of you…

When, in your absence, and because of your absence, I experienced the worst day of my life, the day I felt my heart was crumpled - I went out walking alone, burst into tears, and sent you this text message: “Oh Mom, I am so lonely and hapless without you!”, knowing full well that this text message would never reach you.

Oh my, what has befallen me?! Whenever I encountered the worst of my difficulties during this past year, and you were not there to rush to my aid… when my eyes came across your things, knowing that at one time you had used these things; I would heave a sigh from the very depths of my being.

What befell me the day I saw that you had become so tiny, so slender and wiry, the time when I held your hand in my hands and saw that your hand was trembling out of sheer frailty?! How much I struggled to control myself not to burst into tears in your presence!

What befell me that day, at the end of my visit with you in your prison, behind the isolated visiting room, when they were lowering the curtain, you bent down to be able to see us until the very last moment of our visit, to wave at us and to smile at us…? Oh God, how much the thought that it might very well be the very last time I would be able to see you tortured me.

When, on my birthday, you gave me a pair of stockings which you had bought from the prison store, as a present - the best thing that one could buy from there - how delighted, yet how grieved I became! How hard I embraced it, kissed it, and decided never to wear it, so it wouldn’t wear out! That day reminded me of my previous year’s birthday, when you, in spite of a severe back ache, arranged for my birthday party… and the thought of this made my heart ache.

How delighted I was looking at the carrot plant - a plant you had grown in your prison-cell, which you gave as a present to my little sister, Taraneh, on her birthday! This plant stood for me as a symbol of you. When I was lonely, I would go and cuddle it, talk to it, caress it, and kiss it - I would feel it was you standing before me. How sorrowful and grief-stricken I became when it withered! I would rush to tie its tiny branches together with a green ribbon - perchance it would be revived again - as if I was taking care of you.

What a day it was for me on the festival of Ridvan [the Persian New Year], when you gave me a gift - I felt I had been given the whole world, and I showed off my gift to all my friends with utter pride.

What a night it was for me… the night I could not go to sleep - I started reading all the e-mails you had previously sent me, as tears poured down my cheeks, and how much I wished to receive just one more e-mail from you again.

All of these memories as well as hundreds of days have come to pass, each carrying myriads of large and small, good and bad recollections of my experience - yet God knows that during this whole year I never wished, if it was not His Will, for you to return home to us… I always whispered this poem to myself:

“I would not relinquish my pain for You in vain…

-will not give up my love for the Beloved till slain.

My keepsake from my Beloved is my pain…

-would not trade for a myriad cures this pain.” (Rumi)

This is what befell me over the past year; God only knows what befell you, dear Mom!!!

Writing, writing, writing

2009-05-19T23:49:00.000-07:00

Florence Holway

I'm starting to calm down and settle into my new job as part of Examiner.com's Religion and Spirituality group of writers,also known as the Religion and Spirituality channel. I was hired as the Sacramento Baha'i Examiner, which put me in a panic at first. (I'd rather not get into the "why" of it. Let it suffice to say that "fear, doubt and insecurity" clamped a major choke hold on my brain.) But I wrote an introduction to the Baha'i Faith, which my channel director liked in spite of initial formatting problems, and article number 2 is now up. It's called A moment from a film: Rape In A Small Town . Please check it out, and if at all possible, submit to Reddit, Digg, or any other bookmarking or "social media network" you happen to use. I would greatly appreciate it!

The latest slavery story to break my heart comes via Twitter @justiceandcare: Child Slavery on Lake Volta. The worldwide slave trade WILL BE an ongoing issue on this blog until every man, woman and child glancing at this site even once will understand that is an abomination against God and humanity! I could go even further into emotional appeals, but reader, you get the picture. This won't be the last time you'll read the anti-slavery rant here. Sorry if it bothers you, but there are much more offensive matters going on these days. Look at the pictures of those beautiful children who have been rescued from slavery in Eastern Ghana. It's incomprehensible to me that parents, no matter how destitute they are, would do such a thing to their children! I would do the work instead of my children. Adults have lived their lives. Give the children a chance to do the same.

I have several articles on eHow.com, and I'm starting a five part series on food addiction for AssociatedContent.com. Not to mention writing about my own recovery on BerthaButtNoMore (blogger.com). So yes, I'm doing a lot of writing these days. Thank you, God. This is what I'm supposed to be doing right now!

What the Baha'i Faith says about modern slavery

2009-05-18T23:44:00.000-07:00

Someone re-tweeted a link to this video on Twitter, and I decided to include it in this post. My thanks to the person who originally posted it and the one who sent it out on Twitter. I wouldn't have known about this song otherwise. I know very little about the group Radiohead except that my kids like their music. But I like this song. The situation with slavery in this age is one that REALLY makes me want to go HULK SMASH crazy. But even though part of me says yeah, I would feel better if I could destroy all of those slavery operations all over the world, I know that it's silly, a primordial impulse based on my very strong emotions concerning the issue. It's definitely not the answer. However, I believe that these instructions, even though it will take a very long time for humanity to realize, accept and implement them, ARE the answer:

No Industrial Slavery

In the Book of Aqdas Bahá'u'lláh forbids slavery, and
Abdu'l-Bahá has explained that not only chattel slavery, but
also industrial slavery, is contrary to the law of God. When in
the United States in 1912, He said to the American people: --

Between 1860 and 1865 you did a wonderful thing;
you abolished chattel slavery; but today you must do a
much more wonderful thing: you must abolish industrial
slavery. ...
The solution of economic questions will not be brought
about by array of capital against labor, and labor against
capital, in strife and conflict, but by the voluntary attitude
of goodwill on both sides. Then a real and lasting justness
of conditions will be secured. ...
Among the Bahá'ís there are no extortionate, mercenary
and unjust practices, no rebellious demands, no revolutionary
uprisings against existing governments. ...
It will not be possible in the future for men to amass
great fortunes by the labors of others. The rich will
willingly divide. They will come to this gradually, naturally,
by their own volition. It will never be accomplished
by war and bloodshed.

It is by friendly consultation and cooperation, by just copartnership
and profit-sharing, that the interests of both capital
and labor will be best served. The harsh weapons of the strike
and lockout are injurious, not only to the trades immediately
affected, but to the community as a whole. It is, therefore, the
business of the governments to devise means for preventing
recourse to such barbarous methods of settling disputes.

Abdu'l-Bahá said at Dublin, New Hampshire, in 1912: --

Now I want to tell you about the law of God. According
to the divine law, employees should not be paid merely
by wages. Nay, rather they should be partners in every
work. The question of socialization is very difficult. It
will not be solved by strikes for wages. All the governments
of the world must be united, and organize an assembly,
the members of which shall be elected from the
parliaments and the noble ones of the nations. These must
plan with wisdom and power, so that neither the capitalists
suffer enormous losses, nor the laborers become
needy. In the utmost moderation they should make the
law, then announce to the public that the rights of the
working people are to be effectively preserved; also the
rights of the capitalists are to be protected. When such a
general law is adopted, by the will of both sides, should a
strike occur, all the governments of the world should collectively
resist it. Otherwise the work will lead to much
destruction, especially in Europe. Terrible things will take
place.

One of the several causes of a universal European war
will be this question. The owners of properties, mines and
factories, should share their incomes with their employees,
and give a fairly certain percentage of their profits to
their workingmen, in order that the employees should receive,
besides their wages, some of the general income of
the factory, so that the employee may strive with his soul
in the work.

In the current state of society, children face a cruel fate. Millions and millions in country after country are dislocated socially. Children find themselves alienated by parents and other adults whether they live in conditions of wealth or poverty. This alienation has its roots in a selfishness that is born of materialism that is at the core of the godlessness seizing the hearts of people everywhere. The social dislocation of children in our time is a sure mark of a society in decline; this condition is not, however, confined to any race, class, nation or economic condition -- it cuts across them all. It grieves our hearts to realize that in so many parts of the world children are employed as soldiers, exploited as labourers, sold into virtual slavery, forced into prostitution, made the objects of pornography, abandoned by parents centred on their own desires, and subjected to other forms of victimization too numerous to mention. Many such horrors are inflicted by the parents themselves upon their own children. The spiritual and psychological damage defies estimation. Our worldwide community cannot escape the consequences of these conditions. This realization should spur us all to urgent and sustained effort in the interests of children and the future.

(The Universal House of Justice, Ridvan 157, 2000, p. 7)

How much of the energy employed in the business world of
today is expended simply in canceling and neutralizing the
efforts of other people -- in useless strife and competition! And
how much in ways that are still more injurious! Were all to
work, and were all work, whether of brain or hand, of a nature
profitable to mankind, as Bahá'u'lláh commands, then the supplies
of everything necessary for a healthy, comfortable and
noble life would amply suffice for all. There need be no slums,
no starvation, no destitution, no industrial slavery, no health-destroying
drudgery.

(Dr. J.E. Esslemont, Baha'u'llah and the New Era, p. 143)

About slavery....

2009-05-12T16:06:00.000-07:00

Slavery is not something that's "over there"...if you know what you to look for, you can find it right in your own backyard. This map shows instances of forced labor close to where I live in Northern California. It's all over the United States.

While reading some the latest tweets on Twitter this morning, I decided to check out @Not_For_Sale's profile and web site Not for Sale: End Human Trafficking. I have been fuming about the continued existence of that deplorable condition, slavery ever since. Let's face it, we ALL contribute to it. Think about how we are able to buy clothing or food for relatively low prices. (Yes, I know prices have been rising, but we don't pay anything near what other people in this world pay for food, clothing and other essentials.) I don't know what the specific answer is to this problem in terms of what has been done so far--political sanctions? Yeah, that worked SO WELL against Cuba, Iran, Sudan and other countries whose policies and practices were deemed unsavory by the United States government. Same thing with economic sanctions, censures in the U.N. and other actions. If nothing else, our economic dependency on cheap material goods GUARANTEES that slavery all of the world will continue indefinitely!

As a proud descendant of those who suffered underneath the yoke of slavery, I cannot turn a blind eye toward those who still endure undue deprivations because of the unnecessary greed of a privileged few. In fact, I find it unbelievable that so many other Black people in this country seem apathetic toward the suffering of so many others. Yes, we aren't slaves today, thanks to the sacrifices made by both Black and White people to abolish slavery in this country. Does this mean that we should become heartless just because we are now "free"?

So what's the solution? It seems a foregone conclusion...greed, consumerism, the constant need for more and more and more...will it EVER stop?

Unless...everyone on this planet realizes that there is enough resources for every man, woman and child to live comfortably, and there is NO NEED to enslave anyone to keep prices accessible to the average consumer in the West. We have to believe that. God has spoken in this day, and we can no longer afford to deny His Voice! There is a solution, but it is a spiritual one. Each and everyone of us needs to turn toward God, and allow Him to transform our thoughts and behaviors. Only then will we see significant changes throughout the world.

The second part of the Religion of God, which refers to the material world, and which comprises fasting, prayer, forms of worship, marriage and divorce, the abolition of slavery, legal processes, transactions, indemnities for murder, violence, theft and injuries -- this part of the Law of God, which refers to material things, is modified and altered in each prophetic cycle in accordance with the necessities of the times.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Some Answered Questions, p. 47)

His commands, like a resonant call upraised from a land of oppression to the confused and sorrowful world -- stern, irrefutable, immutable -- stand out against the bloody background of Europe. Those who are following this call 8 declare that the soundless voice will be heard throughout the ages, for they believe the words to be creative, and affirm that, notwithwstanding this banishment and incarceration, BAHA'O'LLAH has been able to impress every nation on earth with a glory and universality of thought that promises the loosening of the shackles which have held mankind in the political, ecclesiastical and financial slavery of the times.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Divine Philosophy, p. 7)

RACIAL HARMONY

Today I am most happy, for I see here [1] a gathering of the servants of God. I see the white and colored people together. In the estimation of God there is no distinction of color; all are one in the color and beauty of servitude to Him. Color is not important; the heart is all-important. It matters not what the exterior may be if the heart be pure and white within. God does not behold differences of hue and complexion; He looks at the hearts. He whose morals and virtues are praiseworthy is preferred in the presence of God; he who is devoted to the Kingdom is most beloved. In the realm of genesis and creation the question of color is of least importance.
[1 Howard University.]

The mineral kingdom abounds with many-colored substances and compositions but we find no strife among them on that account. In the kingdom of the plant and vegetable, distinct and variegated hues exist but the fruit and flowers are not in conflict for that reason. Nay, rather, the very fact that there is difference and variety lends a charm to the garden. If all were of the same color the effect would be monotonous and depressing. When you enter a rose-garden the wealth of color and variety of floral forms spread before you a picture of wonder and beauty. The world of humanity is like a garden and the various races are the flowers which constitute its adornment and decoration. In the animal kingdom also we find variety of color. See how the doves differ in beauty yet they live together in perfect peace, and love each other. They do not make difference of color a cause of discord and strife. They view each other as the same species and kind. They know they are one in kind. Often a white dove soars aloft with a black one. Throughout the animal kingdom we do not find the creatures separated because of color. They recognize unity of species and oneness of kind. If we do not find color distinction drawn in a kingdom of lower intelligence and reason, how can it be justified among human beings, especially when we know that all have come from the same source and belong to the same household? In origin and intention of creation mankind is one. Distinctions of race and color have arisen afterward.

Therefore today I am exceedingly glad that both white and colored people have gathered here and I hope the time will come when they shall live together in the utmost peace, unity and friendship. I wish to say one thing of importance to both in order that the white 35 race may be just and kind to the colored and that the colored race may in turn be grateful and appreciative toward the white. The great proclamation of liberty and emancipation from slavery was made upon this continent. A long bloody war was fought by white men for the sake of colored people. These white men forfeited their possessions and sacrificed their lives by thousands in order that colored men might be freed from bondage. The colored population of the United States of America are possibly not fully informed of the wide-reaching effect of this freedom and emancipation upon their colored brethren in Asia and Africa where even more terrible conditions of slavery existed. Influenced and impelled by the example of the United States, the European powers proclaimed universal liberty to the colored race and slavery ceased to exist. This effort and accomplishment by the white nations should never be lost sight of. Both races should rejoice in gratitude, for the institution of liberty and equality here became the cause of liberating your fellow-beings elsewhere. The colored people of this country are especially fortunate, for, Praise be to God! conditions here are so much higher than in the East and comparatively few differences exist in the possibility of equal attainments with the white race. May both develop toward the highest degree of equality and altruism. May you be drawn together in friendship and may extraordinary development make brotherhood a reality and truth. I pray in your behalf that there shall be no name other than that of humanity among you.

Therefore strive earnestly and put forth your greatest endeavor toward the accomplishment of this fellowship and the cementing of this bond of brotherhood between you. Such an attainment is not possible without will and effort on the part of each; from one, expressions of gratitude and appreciation; from the other kindliness and recognition of equality. Each one should endeavor to develop and assist the other toward mutual advancement. This is possible only by conjoining of effort and inclination. Love and unity will be fostered between you, thereby bringing about the oneness of mankind. For the accomplishment of unity between the colored and whites will be an assurance of the world's peace. Then racial prejudice, national prejudice, limited patriotism and religious bias will pass away and remain no longer. I am pleased to see you at this gathering, white and dark, and I praise God that I have had this opportunity of seeing you loving each other, for this is the means of the glory of humanity. This is the means of the good-pleasure of God and of eternal bliss in His Kingdom. Therefore I pray in your behalf that you may attain to the fullest of love and that the day may come when all differences between you may disappear. 36

(Abdu'l-Baha, Foundations of World Unity, p. 33)

Out for a couple of days....

2009-05-01T20:30:00.000-07:00

Life just keeps chuggin' along, taking me with it. Half of me is very amused, the other is very humbled. It's a vague description of where I am right now, but the best I can do.

Physical changes--still working a recovery program one day at a time, not perfectly, but hanging in there...weight loss still happening, but at a slower rate. That's o.k. I've discovered that I'm unbelievably resistant to any type of change, even good ones. ESPECIALLY good ones. But with the good comes the bad...a little over four weeks ago I had a horrible toothache one day after my 51st birthday...turns out that I need not one, but two root canals. The first one will be done on Monday, May 4. I'm trying not to think about it. The dentist gave me antibiotics and painkillers in the meantime, so that calmed down long enough for me to develop another hernia rupture.

Yeah, this happened to me around the same time last year! And I was admitted to the hospital from ER, whisked into surgery where the calm, cool and collected Dr. Mortensen placed a mesh over the opening, stitched me up and kept watch over me for three days in the hospital. I went home with a drain contraction attached to my insides to collect excess blood and other stuff that was oozing out, and tight binding around my middle to make sure everything stays in place. It was a little more serious this time around. The drain came out yesterday, but I'm supposed to wear the binding for the next eight weeks. I took it off, just for today. It feels good to be able to take a deep breath.

In between all this, I'm moving away from my comfortable, one bedroom apartment to share an adorable cottage style home with a lady who needed someone to rent her son's old bedroom. It is a dream come true--I pay less in rent, and I get to live in one of those houses that reminds me of the illustrations of Hansel and Gretel's or Little Red Riding Hood's house. There's no evil witch or big, bad wolf--Barbara is a very sweet person, and she has a 10 year old Great Dane who has to be the mellowest, most loving dog I've ever met. But he is HUGE! I've gone from having a "micro-thug" hyperactive Pomeranian who yapped and ran off all the time, to the world's biggest lap dog who just wants to cuddle up beside someone.

So here I am, moving once again, have major health problems ONCE AGAIN...but I've been given the opportunity to re-establish my writing career. After all these years of wishing and dreaming, I'm doing it, with the assistance of the All Mighty, the Most Powerful. I don't take this lightly; this is an example of God's everlasting bounty and grace in both this world and the next. I've always known that I have a job to do in this life of mine, and I took all sorts of winding detours away from it. I think I felt like I didn't deserve to be a writer. But that is what I am, and what God gave me the tools necessary to do it. I have to come through with my part, and my fear (False Evidence Appearing Real) is that I will waste this opportunity as I have done so many times in the past. So I breathe deep, say 95 Allah Abhas and chant Is there any Remover of difficulties save God? Say: Praise be God! He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His Bidding! Then I write.

I write for several online web sites, mainly eHow.com, AssociatedContent.com and Bukisa.com. And I was recently hired by the former San Francisco and Denver Examiner franchise to become an "examiner" (i.e., writer or reporter without a union contract aka "independent contractor") for the Sacramento area. On my application, I was asked to specify three different areas in which I have a considerable amount of experience writing about. After realizing that most of the arts and feature slots were already taken by other "examiners", I typed in parenting, addiction and recovery, and the Baha'i Faith. I was hoping the editors wouldn't ask me to write about the Baha'i Faith, not because I didn't want to or don't like to, but because I don't feel that I'm in any way an expert. NO one is! But of course, God has other plans for me. I received an email congratulating me on becoming Sacramento's Baha'i examiner for the Religion and Spirituality section of Sacramento's edition of examiner.com. I am supposed to write about anything and everything that is happening in the Sacramento Baha'i community and in the surrounding areas. I don't think I breathed for almost two minutes when I read that email.

I posted my first story today. It isn't "live" yet; the editors have do what editors do when a writer submits a story. But I figured I would start out with a brief overview of the Baha'i Faith, meaning the core beliefs and a summary of the history. That was extremely difficult to write. It was like trying to distill all of the water in the Pacific Ocean down so it could fit into an eight ounce bottle. I only hope I represented the Faith in best manner possible. Luckily, I was able to get the assistance of members of my Local Spiritual Assembly, and I will be working closely with them and the local public information officer in the future. I'm not alone, except when I'm in front of my computer. And even then, I'm not alone. God is everywhere.

Life definitely brings changes. I'm just suiting up and showing up. I'll be off line for a few days until my Internet service gets turned on at my new home. In the meantime, say a little prayer for me if you can. I can certainly use some prayerful assistance right now.

Another letter of support for the Friends in Iran

2009-04-08T12:11:00.000-07:00

Angela's note: Having trouble with my writing muse these days--a lot of it is probably my bad attitude toward my recovery program (hit more than a few snags), a really bad infection in the roots of two teeth, and seasonal allergies. But I'm also trying, like a salmon swimming upstream to the spawning grounds,to get OUT of myself and remember that there is a huge world outside my door, and many people in it have much more daunting problems than I do. Case in point--the Baha'is living/trapped in Iran with a government that is determined to eradicate or force some of them to recant their faith. I'm not faced with those kinds of tests, and I need to acknowledge this. There is much I have in my life to be grateful for.)

Baha’is Need Justice! (Part 1)
April 8, 2009

By Majid Nafisi

Editor’s Note: Nafisi is a well-known Iranian poet and writer. Recently he was asked to sign the famous letter “We are Ashamed”, but he refused. However, he has written the following brilliant essay, which Iran Press Watch is very pleased to share in translation. Because of its length, this essay will be posted in several parts. Mr. Nafisi is not a Baha’i, nor is he associated with the Baha’i community.majid-nafisi-1

Baha’is Need Justice!

Recently, a letter was published over the signature of 42 Iranian intellectuals addressed to the Baha’i community and proclaiming “one and a half century of persecution and our silence is enough”. The title of the letter was “We are Ashamed” (see http://www.iranpresswatch.org/2009/02/we-are-ashamed/).

Over a month ago, Mr. Khosro Shemiranie sent this letter to me to sign. Even though from the age of fourteen I have been saddened by what Baha’is have been going through and I have written about it, I responded that I could not sign it since it was instigated by a “feeling of shame” and “collective sin” and not “seeking justice and freedom of conscience”. I added, “If you reword this letter in which the phrase ‘We are Ashamed’ is repeated thirteen times and change it to ‘We arise to defend the rights of Baha’is’, you can be sure that I will sign it without any hesitation.”

Now that this open letter has been published and broadly disseminated, and many others have joined as signatories, I find it necessary to write my reasons for not signing it. I hope by launching this discussion, I can bring to light the tyranny and persecutions to which Baha’is have been subjected during the rule of the three regimes of Qajar, Pahlavi and Khomeini over the past 160 years.

1. My First Encounter with Baha’is

The first time I got to know a Baha’i was in Sa’di High School in Isfahan, when I was in the seventh grade. His name was Golestan Mossafaei, and hge was in the eleventh grade. I met him at our school’s Literature Club. The club was managed by Muhammad Hoquqi, our teacher and resident poet. This club did not last long; it shut down under the pressure imposed by prejudiced school officials.

Golestan always had a sweet smile, and sometimes he composed poems. A few times I went to his house, which was located close to a pond in Hasanabad. It was a modest house with one room. Even that room was barely furnished. Golestan explained how their house had been set on fire a few times, by an anti-Baha’i group called Hojjatiyeh. Flyers had also been thrown into their yard, pressuring them to leave their residence. I felt deeply sad hearing about the tyranny inflicted on Golestan and his family. I wrote a short essay about it, and read it to members of our Literature Club.

The vice principal of the school was furious about my friendship with Golestan, and told my father that Majid had been entrapped by Baha’is. My father gave me a small booklet called “Memoires of Prince Dolgoruki”, the Russian Ambassador in Iran from 1846-1854, who allegedly claimed that the Baha’i movement had been started by Russians in order to destroy Iran and the Shiah sect of Islam. My mother forbade me from having a friendship with Golestan Mossafaei. She made such a monster of Golestan that whenever my four year old sister was mad at me, she would say, “Get lost Mossafaei”.

School teachers collaborated in pressuring me, and failed me in one subject when I was in grade 7! I was a bright student who had passed grade six with an average above 90. In the eighth grade, I was given failing grades in four of my subjects, and had to retake the exams for these subjects at the end of summer. I was not given passing grades and had to repeat grade 8 the following year. This was the first big failure of my life, and taught me a lesson in resilience. I left day school, and enrolled in a night school so that I would be able to complete two grades in one year.

Sa’di High School was run by a religious mafia, composed of a few teachers and a fanatically religious vice principal. At the top of the group, there was a physics teacher whose name was Nuri. His shirts were buttoned up to the chin, and his face was always unshaven. He was the one who shut down our literature club, with the excuse that the organizer of the club disseminated the views of Sadeq Hedayat [Iran's foremost modern writer of prose fiction and short stories -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadeq_Hedayat], and caused students to drift away from Islam. Two mullahs by the names of Rohani and Faqih-Imami were our Islamic studies teachers. Another Mullah named Fazaeli, with good penmanship, taught us calligraphy. Even though he had a close relationship with the Shah’s elected rulers in Isfahan, he also had close ties with our school mafia.1

After two years of studying at night school, I enrolled in another high school called Harati. That school was not free of staunch religious, fanatical teachers either. I remember on cold winter days, as we heard the school bell ring, we had to stand still on the spot and listen to Mr. Parvaresh. After the revolution and after he was appointed a Minister, we found out that he had been a member of an anti-Baha’i group [Hojjatieh Society -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hojjatieh]. He would sprinkle his religious speech with verses from Imam Ali in three languages, English, Arabic and Farsi, showing off his talent!

2. Shaykhis and Mullahs

About the same time, impressed by the book Tat Neshinha-ye Boluk Zahra [The Tat People of the Zahra Tribe] written by Jalal Al-Ahmad, I became interested in the rural life of Iran and in traveling to a small village called Jandaq situated on the edge of the desert. Inhabitants of this village told me that they were followers of a sect called Shaykhi Baqiri. This enticed me to started reading Shaykhi books. I realized that the teachings of Shaykh Ahmad Ahsa’i (1753-1826) and his successor, Siyyid Kazim Rashti (1793-1843) had been instrumental in preparing people for the appearance of Ali-Muhammad the Bab (1819-50) [Forerunner of Baha'u'llah -- Prophet-Founder of the Baha'i Faith].

After the death of Siyyid Kazim Rashti, one of the Qajar Princes, Aqa Karim Khan Kermani (1810-1871) became the Shaykhi leader. In order to stop his followers from accepting the Bab, he turned into the most active anti-Babi mullahs of his time. Shaykhis grew in number and influence under him and his heir’s leadership. Even Muzaffari’d-Din Shah considered himself a Shaykhi.

After Karim Khan Kermani, the Shaykhi school of thought was divided into two branches. One branch that was in the majority considered Karim Khan’s son as their leader and the Fourth Pillar (that is, the intermediary between the Hidden Imam and the masses, which is similar to Khomeini’s idea of Velayet-e Faqih, “rule by jurists”). The other branch, under the leadership of Muhammad-Baqir Hamadani, rejected the heredity nature of the Fourth Pillar. They became known as Shaykhi Baqiris.

After studying Shaykhi books, some of Shaykh Ahmad’s views seemed more logical than the views of his Shiah counterparts. For example, resurrection at the Day of Judgment (known as Hurqalya) was the resurrection in a softer and more refined form– not a physical reconstruction. I found the Babi movement attractive due to some of its teachings, such as viewing all humans as equals, and the fact that a courageous poetess by the name of Zarrin-Taj [Tahirih -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tahirih] was one of its prominent followers. Other than that, from a young age, I was not interested in religious ideology.

My paternal grandfather, Abu-Turab, did not accept the heredity branch of the Shaykhis after the death of Karim Khan, and left the city of Kerman to settle in a small village near Isfahan. Going through my father’s library, I came across a few manuscripts, and once briefly read through one which explored the philosophical issue of free will versus predestination.

My father believed that there were no differences between Shaykhi and currently practiced Shiah schools, and that it was just a matter of whom each group considered to be their Source of Emulation. However, I had the feeling that my parents were afraid of becoming known as Shaykhis and kept secret their meetings for the purpose of studying and discussing the books of Kermani and Hamadani.

Among the views of Shaykhi Baqiris, my father liked their distrust of traditional mullahs. Among contemporary Islamic thinkers, my father liked Ali Shariati [an Iranian sociologist and revolutionary -- see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ali_Shariati], who did not value religious priests and clergy. I remember my father, while driving for picnics on Fridays, used to sing pop lyrics making fun of mullahs. [A popular anti-clerical song quoted here is not translated.]

In Iranian folktales, a mullah was often pictured as a “cunning fox”, and as a creature obsessed with food, overeating and sexual excesses, while pretending to be pious and self righteous. Khomeini was well aware of how mullahs were portrayed and their reputation. After the revolution, imitating his teacher, Abdul-Karim Haeri-Yazdi, Khomeini changed the famous proverb “How easy to become a mullah, how hard to become a human!” to “How hard to become a mullah, impossible to become a human”. He was trying to influence the subconscious of the masses and to overcome their innate sense of mistrust and resentment towards the mullahs.

Author’s Notes:

[1] In September 2000, I published my memoires of this period in a detailed article, “Avalin-hay man” [My Firsts]. This article is published in “Man Khud Iran Hastam va Shi-u Panj Maqalih Digar [I am Iran and Thirty-Five other Articles], published by Afra, Toronto, 2006.

[Published on Thursday, March 12, 2009, at http://fa.shahrvand.com/2008-07-14-20-49-09/2008-07-14-20-49-46/2284-2009-03-12-17-58-08. Translation by Iran Press Watch.]

SOUL PANCAKE: Rainn Wilson on Oprah's radio show!

2009-03-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'm feeling MUCH better right now! All praise to God, the Most High! Prayer DOES change things! Anyway, I watched and listened to Ms. Winfrey interview Rainn Wilson, who, if you don't know, plays "Dwight" on The Office. Now, I have to be honest--I've never watched a full episode of The Office. I'm usually not at home when it's on. But I've seen segments of episodes, and those little bits were definitely funny, even though I know very little about the characters! That's some comedic genius right there; much love to the writers, directors, producers and actors for getting this woman to laugh at a five minute bit!

So, why was Rainn Wilson appearing on Oprah's Sirius/XM syndicated radio show? Well, the main reason was to talk about his web site, Soul Pancake, which you can check out here:
SoulPancake And what, you might ask, is SoulPancake? Actually, it's not something I can easily describe. It's best left to the expert on the subject, Mr. Wilson. So check out the web site. You'll be glad you did.

And about Oprah interviewing Mr. Wilson--it was a great show, and just between you and me (let's keep this seriously confidential, folks), Ms. Winfrey seemed more than just a little interested in finding out more about the Baha'i Faith. Apparently, she's done some ridin' past the Baha'i House of Worship in Willamette, Ill. (outside of Chicago, for those who don't know), and has wondered about what's going on in that mysterious yet extremely beautiful building. Well, she was surprised to discover that there's no secret rituals going on (Rainn mentioned Baha'is do NOT sacrifice goats or anything like that), in fact, the House of Worship is not JUST for Baha'is--it's for everyone, regardless of religion or lack thereof, to worship. pray. and commune in unity with people from all walks of life. Oprah seemed taken aback by that. I guess she heard rumors and paid attention to them instead of doin' some independent investigation of the truth! All you had to was ask, Oprah! Baha'is are pretty easy-goin' folks. Well, most of us, anyway. My community would probably say otherwise about me!

But Rainn did a marvelous job of explaining the basic teachings of the Baha'i Faith. I started wondering if he was prepared to invite Ms. Winfrey to a devotional gathering or a study circle! (Ha, ha, wouldn't THAT be something!) The interview is also worth checking out; it's probably one of the best I've seen Ms. Winfrey do in a long time. I guess it has a lot to do with the fact Rainn was her only guest, and there was more time to do a more in-depth interview. Best of all, she didn't have to break for commercials every two minutes. It's nice to know that she doesn't ALWAYS cut off her guests just as they are trying to say something!

RAINN WILSON ON SOULSERIES

Reprint "We are Ashamed"

2009-03-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

I re-read this incredible document this morning to remind myself that there are is a much Higher Calling than my self-centered problems. Sure, these problems need to be faced, but I cannot solve them by myself. I need God to work through me, to assist me under all conditions and circumstances. How easily I forget! And when I forget, I isolate myself from my brethren, and from the Cause of God in this day. This is NOT serving God and humanity, which is why my Baha'i brothers and sisters in Iran have suffered innumerable persecutions in the past and right now as I type these words. They have remained steadfast in a land where they are denied employment, education, and access to the basic needs to sustain life. Their property and earnings have been seized, and God only knows how they manage to get through each day. They are ridiculed both publicly and privately, abused physically and emotionally. And falsely imprisoned, as the seven Friends are right now.

I am reminded of their plight by a story told to me by my youngest daughter, Chenelle. She has a close friend, Amir. He is both Iranian and Muslim by birth, but raised from a young age here in California and has become a US citizen. Amir grew up knowing NOTHING about the Baha'i Faith, or about how Baha'is are treated in the country of his birth. Chenelle asked him about whether he had heard of the Baha'is, and he said no. But he asked his mother about it.

Amir's mother is a gentle and loving woman who does not speak English, but embraced my daughter and Amir's other American friends with hugs and generous hospitality into her home. Her only reply to her son about those who follow the teachings of Baha'u'lla'h in her homeland was, "Baha'is? Bah!" Then she pantomimed spitting on the ground repeatedly. Amir was stunned by his mother's actions. He had NEVER in his entire life witnessed his mother behaving like that.

This is but one example of the unwarranted prejudice and hatred that exists for Baha'is in Iran, and has reached the shores of America.

Yet, Baha'i in Iran do not hate. They do not re-cant their Faith in God, in humanity. They accept these numerous offenses and punishments with humility and faith that God has spoken in This Day, and His Word is Justice. I'm sure that there are some days when the Baha'is do not feel peace, joy and acceptance. They must have days where they question what is happening to them, especially when there is little or no food in the home (which happens when people are denied employment), or they cannot meet their financial obligations. This cannot be easy for them. Yet, through it all, they remain united and resolute in faith and purpose.

There were TWO teaching projects going on in my area this past weekend. I did not participate. Why? Because I allowed self-centered, imagined angst and lack of trust in God to overcome me. Today, I WILL NOT DO THAT! I can pray, work my recovery program, and reach out to others in need. I'm not alone. I am a servant of God, as we all are, even when we don't feel or think that we are. I came out of a dark place of my own making to see that there is much good to do in this world. I need only to speak up in prayer and action. My Baha'i brothers and sisters, caught in places where speech and action are forbidden, depend on my voice, combined with the voices of others, to bring their plight into the forefront of the world's awareness.

I am re-printing this historic letter, published and signed by 267 prominent Iranians from all over the world, who risk their personal security and/or the safety of friends and family members still in Iran by signing their names to the document. Please read the following letter, and if you wish to see the names of the 267 brave souls who signed their names, go to this URL: we are ashamed .
Ya Baha'ul Abha'!

Angela

We are Ashamed!
February 4, 2009

Editor’s Note: The following is an open letter from a group of academics, writers, artists, journalists and Iranian activists throughout the world to the Baha’i community. This letter has been signed by a large number of the most prominent Iranian intellectuals.

We are ashamed!

A century and a half of oppression and silence is enough!

In the name of goodness and beauty, and in the name of humanity and liberty!

As Iranian human beings, we are ashamed for what has been perpetrated upon the Baha’is in the last century and a half in Iran.

We firmly believe that every Iranian, “without distinction of any kind, such as, race, color, sex, language, religion, politics or other opinions,” and also without regard to ethnic background, “social origin, property, birth or other status,” is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. However, from the very inception of the Baha’i Faith, the followers of this religion in Iran have been deprived of many provisions of human rights solely on account of their religious convictions.

According to historical documents and evidence, from the commencement of the Babi Movement followed by the appearance of the Baha’i Faith, thousands of our countrymen have been slain by the sword of bigotry and superstition only for their religious beliefs. Just in the first decades of its establishment, some twenty thousand of those who stood identified with this faith community were savagely killed throughout various regions of Iran.

We are ashamed that during that period, no voice of protest against these barbaric murders was registered;

We are ashamed that until today the voice of protest against this heinous crime has been infrequent and muted;

We are ashamed that in addition to the intense suppression of Baha’is during its formative decades, the last century also witnessed periodic episodes of persecution of this group of our countrymen, in which their homes and businesses were set on fire, and their lives, property and families were subjected to brutal persecution – but all the while, the intellectual community of Iran remained silent;

We are ashamed that during the last thirty years, the killing of Baha’is solely on the basis of their religious beliefs has gained legal status and over two-hundred Baha’is have been slain on this account;

We are ashamed that a group of intellectuals have justified coercion against the Baha’i community of Iran;

We are ashamed of our silence that after many decades of service to Iran, Baha’i retired persons have been deprived of their right to a pension;

We are ashamed of our silence that on the account of their fidelity to their religion and truthfulness in stating this conviction, thousands of Baha’i youth have been barred from education in universities and other institutions of higher learning in Iran;

We are ashamed that because of their parents’ religious beliefs, Baha’i children are subjected to denigration in schools and in public.

We are ashamed of our silence over this painful reality that in our nation, Baha’is are systematically oppressed and maligned, a number of them are incarcerated because of their religious convictions, their homes and places of business are attacked and destroyed, and periodically their burial places are desecrated;

We are ashamed of our silence when confronted with the long, dark and atrocious record that our laws and legal system have marginalized and deprived Baha’is of their rights, and the injustice and harassment of both official and unofficial organs of the government towards this group of our countrymen;

We are ashamed for all these transgressions and injustices, and we are ashamed for our silence over these deeds.

We, the undersigned, asked you, the Baha’is, to forgive us for the wrongs committed against the Baha’i community of Iran.

We will no longer be silent when injustice is visited upon you.

We stand by you in achieving all the rights enshrined in the Universal Declaration of the Human Rights.

Let us join hands in replacing hatred and ignorance with love and tolerance.

Senator Barbara Boxer's reply to my letter

2009-03-06T21:48:00.000-08:00

I definitely didn't expect a reply from Ms. Boxer, but I'm grateful for the acknowledgment from my Congressional representative. Of course, I know SHE didn't actually write the email, but what's important is that her office is aware of the situation, and the Iranian government knows that the United States government is well aware of its activities. I'm continuing to pray for our Friends in that damnable prison, and whatever happens will all be for the Glory of the Cause of God in this Blessed Day.

Dear Ms. Shortt:

Thank you for contacting me regarding the treatment of the Bahá'í community in Iran. I appreciate the opportunity to respond to your views on this troubling situation.

I share your concern regarding the systematic discrimination faced by the Bahá'í and other religious minorities in Iran. For decades, the government of Iran has repressed and persecuted members of the Bahá'í faith in violation of the International Covenants on Human Rights.

As you may know, in February 2009 the Iranian government charged seven leaders of the Iranian Bahá'í community with espionage and propaganda against the Islamic Republic. These Bahá'í community leaders had been detained for nine months without access to legal counsel. Thirty other Bahá'ís remain imprisoned in Iran because of their religion. The United States has condemned these actions, urging Iranian authorities to release all religious minorities currently detained for the peaceful exercise of their religious beliefs.

As a strong advocate of international human rights and religious freedom, I am deeply concerned about these recent events and Iran's continued persecution of the Bahá'í community. Please be assured that

I will keep your views in mind should legislation regarding the Iranian Bahá'í come before the Senate in the 111th Congress.

Thank you for writing, and I hope you will continue to be in touch with me about matters of importance to you.

Barbara Boxer
United States Senator

Please visit my website at http://boxer.senate.gov

Happy Ayyám-i-Há!

2009-02-26T10:22:00.000-08:00

(This was originally posted on my Facebook page by the lovely and very gracious Erica Toussaint, who is a member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the United States. Some of this I knew. And the most significant facts about Ayyám-i-Há (otherwise known as Intercalary, or between the calendar days), mainly, the mystical meaning of the term and how significant it is, I did NOT know. I am deeply appreciative to Karla Jamir for writing this article, and to Erica Toussaint for posting it so that more people understand the Divine Origin of Ayyám-i-Há.

Here in Northern California, we tend to celebrate the days of Ha' as a time for making gifts (I'm very much challenged in the crafts department, so I don't do that), giving and receiving of gifts (I do buy some for the children), and partying. My community hosts the area's big Ayyám-i-Há party at the local park and recreation center, and lots of people come to eat, play games, talk, laugh, listen and dance to music. Yours truly is revising her role as "Madame Angel,"sikick". It's a total parody of those cheesy Psychic Network ads that used to run on T.V. years ago. It's a lot of fun, and I end up cracking up with my "customers" (Baha'is buy tickets for a "reading", and the proceeds go to the Fund) most of the time. This year, I hope to finally get my hands on a crystal ball so I can do Bullwinkle's "Genie, genie, chili beanie, the spirits are about to speak!" speech. It's all for fun, folks. That's what it's all about--having a good time with the people that I know and love, both Baha'is and non-Baha'is.

**********************************
Ayyám-i-Há: Days Outside of Time
**********************************
By Karla Jamir
The Ayyám-i-Há holiday begins each year on the evening of February 25 and ends at sunset on March 1st. Of this period Bahá’u’lláh writes: “It behoveth the people of Bahá, throughout these days, to provide good cheer for themselves, their kindred and, beyond them, the poor and needy, and with joy and exultation to hail and glorify their Lord, to sing His praise and magnify His Name.”
A closer look at the history and background of Ayyám-i-Há can help us to value it even more for its unique spirit, resist any temptation to turn it into a “Christmas equivalent,” and discover some of its beautiful and mystical symbolic meanings.
The Baha’i calendar of 19 months of 19 days needs 4 days (5 in leap years) to equal a solar year. By definition such added days are “intercalary” days. In revealing this “Badí’” calendar, the Báb did not say exactly where to place the extra days. Some of the early Bábís included them as part of the Fast, others stopped fasting 4 or 5 days before Naw-Rúz (the new calendar year). Bahá’u’lláh named these days in the Kitáb-i-Aqdas and specified their place in the year:
“Let the days in excess of the months be placed before the month of fasting. We have ordained that these, amid all nights and days, shall be the manifestations of the letter “Há”, and thus they have not been bounded by the limits of the year and its months...and when they end—these days of giving that precede the season of restraint—let them enter upon the Fast. Thus hath it been ordained by Him Who is the Lord of all mankind.”
As in His prayer for Ayyám-i-Há, Bahá’u’lláh juxtaposes these “days of giving” with the Fast’s “season of restraint.” Ayyám-i-Há is intended partly as spiritual preparation for the Fast, a reminder of its approach, and a way of fostering the detachment from material things so necessary for the Fast.
Ayyám-i-Há means the “Days of “Há”.” “Há” is the Arabic letter corresponding to the English “H”, and one of the three Arabic letters which make up the word “Bahá.” Both Bahá’u’lláh and the Báb followed the Arabic tradition of assigning numerical values to letters, and of giving spiritual meanings to both. The numerical value of “Há” is 5, the sum of the numerical values of the letters in the “Báb,” and the maximum number of intercalary days.
“Há” is also the first letter of an Arabic pronoun commonly used in Arabic religious writings to refer to God, or “the Divine Essence.” “Há” by itself is used as a symbol of “the Essence of God,” and was the subject of many an Arabic essay on its mysteries. In Bahá’u’lláh’s Tablet of All Food the realm “beyond which there is no passing,” or the realm of the Divine Essence is designated as “Háhút.” In the Báb’s interpretation of the letter “Há” (quoted by Bahá’u’lláh in the Kitáb-i-Iqán), the Báb speaks of martyrdom in the path of God and warns “even if all the kings of the earth were to be leagued together they would be powerless to take from me a single letter...”
Bahá’u’lláh has designated the intercalary days “amid all the nights and days” as “manifestations of the letter ‘Ha’ ”—that is, as Days of the Divine Essence. These extra days stand apart from the ordinary cycle of weeks and months and the human measure of time. They are not “bounded by the limits of the year and its months”—just as the infinite reality of the divine Essence of God is unbounded and cannot be captured or comprehended within the cycle of time or any other human measurement.
Thus Ayyám-i-Há can be thought of as days outside of time, days that symbolize eternity, infinity, and the mystery and unknowable Essence of God Himself. Contemplation during these days of the timeless mystery of the Essence of God provides us the “joy and exultation” with which to “sing His praise and magnify His Name.”

News Round-up of the Seven Friends in Iran

2009-02-18T22:42:00.000-08:00

Phillippe Copeland's Baha'i Thought featured an excellent article written by two American Baha'i youths which was posted on Newsweek's online forum, "On Faith". The title, Then They Came for the Baha'is, was borrowed from the speech Congressman Mark Stevens Kirk addressed to the United States House of Representatives, which itself echoed a statement made by Lutheran pastor Martin Niemoller. The full text is can be read on Iran Press Watch , but I wanted to post Congressman Kirk's opening statement to Congress:

Bipartisan Resolution Condemning Persecution of Baha’is in Iran

”In Germany, they first came for the gypsies, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a gypsy. Then they came for the Bolsheviks, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Bolshevik. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics. I didn’t speak up then because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak up.”
–Martin Niemoller, a Lutheran pastor arrested by the Gestapo in 1937.

Mr. KIRK. Madam Speaker, then they came for the Baha’is.

Please click on the link above to read the entire speech.

Iran Press Watch also posted a Statement of Support by Writers and Journalists from Kurdistan.

John Barnabas, aka "Barney", has posted about the European Union's condemnation of the Iranian Government unjust incarceration of the Friends in Iran. Please read it by clicking here:
Barnabas quotidianus
Barney also made a post about Nobel Peace Prize winner and human rights lawyer, Dr. Shirin Ebadi, who is the attorney of record for the seven Friends In Iran, but has been denied access to them so she can prepare her case. The United Kingdom's Channel 4 did an interview with Dr. Ebadi, and that is also posted on Barnabas quotidianus.

Anonymous cowgirl posted what I have been struggling to say for a while now. Thanks, Negin and Lev, for giving voice to the emotions that I have.

And thanks for all the Baha'is and friends of Baha'is who have come together in prayer for the Friends In Iran. Here in the Sacramento region, dozens of people have held prayer vigils. The Carmichael community is hosting a prayer meeting every night this week. In my own community, we will be meeting this weekend for prayers. If nothing else, we are putting into action that spiritual principle upon which Baha'u'llah has revealed the Word of God for these times: unity. God is always with those who gather sincerely in His Name.

This prayer, posted on Iran Press Watch, has moved me beyond words:

Another Prayer for the Protection of Baha’i Prisoners
February 17, 2009

Editor’s Note: Last month, Iran Press Watch published a prayer by Baha’u’llah, the Founder of the Baha’i Faith, for the protection and release of Baha’i prisoners at http://www.iranpresswatch.org/2009/01/prayer-for-prisoners/. With the impending trial of the Friends of Iran on the heart of countless concerned citizens from around the world, today IPW is pleased to share a provisional translation of a prayer by ‘Abdu’l-Baha’ for the protection of Baha’i prisoners. This particular prayer was written in October 1921 and may be one of the last prayers revealed by ‘Abdu’l-Baha’, the Son of Baha’u’llah and His chosen Successor.

He is the All-Glorious!

O God, my God! Verily, Thou seest Thy servants acting with sincerity toward the whole of mankind, even the ill-disposed enemy. They are serving the entire human race with pure hearts and sanctified breasts and are exposed to grave danger. Darts are aimed at them, arrows directed towards them. Spears are pointed at them, swords drawn against them.

O Lord! They are victims of tyranny, at the mercy of the enemy. They are prisoners in the hands of blood-thirsty wolves and ravenous dogs from amongst the wicked. They have no refuge, no haven save the stronghold of Thine all-encompassing protection. Shelter them, O my Lord, with the eye of Thy loving-kindness neath the shadow of Thy shield and protection and guard them in the shelter of Thy care from the wicked-doers among Thy people. O Lord! They have no helper except Thee, no protector besides Thee.

Ordain, O my Lord, all manner of affliction for ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Make me a target for the darts of men and protect Thy faithful servants from the wickedness of the ignoble. Grant that I may offer up my life for the whole body of Thy lovers so that my heart may find rest, my soul may be quieted, and my eyes may be solaced in the arena of supreme martyrdom. Verily, Thou art the All-Powerful, the Almighty, the Most Exalted.

O ye beloved of the Lord! Be calm and composed.

– ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’

Source: http://reference.bahai.org/fa/t/ab/MMA/mma-388.html#pg385

Thoughts about God's Commandments

2009-02-17T13:47:00.000-08:00

I have Nikhil Ravi from the blog The Quest for Certitude to thank for the inspiration for this post. I had read this passage before, but as always, I was "shut out as by a veil" in my spiritual understanding. I'm not claiming that I completely understand Baha'u'llah's Words now. But as I slowly let go of my distractions i.e. addictions (also known as idle fancies and vain imaginings), I can see meaning where there was previously confusion. Or even worse, I had pride-fogged disregard of the words because I felt that they pertained to others, not me. The ego plays such subtle games with the mind.

"O YE peoples of the world! Know assuredly that My commandments are the lamps of My loving providence among My servants, and the keys of My mercy for My creatures. Thus hath it been sent down from the heaven of the Will of your Lord, the Lord of Revelation. Were any man to taste the sweetness of the words which the lips of the All-Merciful have willed to utter, he would, though the treasures of the earth be in his possession, renounce them one and all, that he might vindicate the truth of even one of His commandments, shining above the Dayspring of His bountiful care and loving-kindness.

From My laws the sweet smelling savour of My garment can be smelled, and by their aid the standards of victory will be planted upon the highest peaks. The Tongue of My power hath, from the heaven of My omnipotent glory, addressed to My creation these words: ‘Observe My commandments, for the love of My beauty.’ Happy is the lover that hath inhaled the divine fragrance of his Best-Beloved from these words, laden with the perfume of a grace which no tongue can describe. By My life! He who hath drunk the choice wine of fairness from the hands of My bountiful favour, will circle around My commandments that shine above the Dayspring of My creation.

Think not that We have revealed unto you a mere code of laws. Nay, rather, We have unsealed the choice Wine with the fingers of might and power. To this beareth witness that which the Pen of Revelation hath revealed. Meditate upon this, O men of insight!…"

-- Baha'u'llah

As someone who grew up in the Baptist church and taught that God's Laws were to be obeyed or one will burn in the eternal fires of hell, I've come to realize that God does love us in ways that are rather difficult for human beings to fully comprehend and appreciate. What I experienced in my early religious training was that if I obeyed God's Laws, I will be rewarded with a good life. In my "idle fancies and vain imaginings" state, I thought this meant God was like Santa Claus--I would get toys and treats for being good.

This belief extended into adulthood, which compounded my disappointment when things went bad, or more precisely, I perceived them that way. In my opinion, I was "good". Where was my reward? Why did "bad things happen to me" when I was being "so good"?

I put these questions to the various preachers of the churches I attended over the years, and their answers seemed vague, abstract. "We must all suffer through life; our reward is in heaven"; "We don't know God's Will"; "It says in the Book of (insert Old or New Testament book, chapter, verse)...." I never understood what they were talking about. I clung to my ego-driven vision of a Christmas god who handed out presents to good kids like a kindly, yet physically and emotionally remote vending machine. And of course, my view was "correct". After all, "good" begets "good" and "bad" begets "bad". And I ignored the rhetorical arguments about the relative meanings of those words.

What caught my attention in the selection from the Baha'u'llah's Writings was this:

My commandments are the lamps of My loving providence among My servants, and the keys of My mercy for My creatures.

What is a lamp? It is an instrument to provide light so one can see when surrounded by darkness, thereby enabling better vision. To me, these commandments are so much more than "If you follow these rules, you will be rewarded for being good. If you don't follow the rules, you are bad and you will be punished."* Being in this physical world of distracting influences is such an overload of stimulation for me that I get overwhelmed a lot. All of these thoughts, actions and experiences can take me away from the primary focus of my life, which is to know and love God. Everything else is secondary to that purpose. These commandments illumine the Way to that Holy Purpose, through all of the darkening confusion and distractions. The Writings do not say that nothing "bad" will happen to me. Instead, God is promising that the way through the "bad" will be illumined for me. And of course, it is my choice to follow the Light.

And what does a key do? It opens doors. By abiding by the commandments, doors leading to the Ancient Beauty are opened. I had erroneously believed that God shut the doors leading to Him because everything in my life seemed to be so bad. It wasn't, of course, but that was my perception. And that very perception is what closed the doors. By obeying the commandments, I can open the doors to what is possible in both this world and the world to come.

I can't figure any of this out on my own. by the way. What little awareness of meaning that I have is due to studying the Writings, participation in Ruhi study circles, prayer and consistent participation in 12 step groups so that my "idle fancies and vain imaginings" have less effect on me, "one day at a time". What I have learned is there are steps that I need to take as revealed by Baha'u'llah, and those steps are The Commandments of God. When I do this, I can walk through life with faith and assurance that I can survive life's tests. God never burdens anyone beyond capacity. I need to remember that, and have faith that all of life's events are temporary passages which will lead me either closer to God, or away from Him. However, even the difficulties lead me closer to Him, if I would open my eyes fully to the Light and see this.

*Addendum: The idea of "good/bad" and "punishment/reward" is often paralleled with the concept of "perfection", which is, if I, as fallible human being, make the slightest mistake in anything I do in life, I am not "perfect". And I'm supposed to be "perfect" because that word is synonymous "good". I am unworthy of God's love, grace and mercy, therefore any "rewards" if I am not "good", i.e., "perfect". If I am "bad", then I am already shut out of the race for "rewards". So I might as well "enjoy" being "bad" because I've messed up beyond redemption. Such thoughts are the basis of countless addictions/obsessions/vain imaginings and idle fancies.

Meditation for today

2009-02-13T01:33:00.000-08:00

February 13

Son of Man!
Wert thou to speed through the immensity of space and traverse the expanse of heaven, yet thou wouldst find no rest save in submission to Our command and humbleness before Our Face.

~ Bahá’u’lláh

A letter to the leaders of the United States

2009-02-13T00:58:00.000-08:00

My name is Angela Shortt, and I am a member of Baha'i Faith, a citizen of the United States and a resident of California. I am writing to you because of the increased oppression and tyrannical treatment that the Islamic-led government has been inflicting on the Baha'is and other religious "minorities" living in Iran. The situation has escalated to intolerable levels, and I am asking that, in the name human decency, begin some sort of dialogue with Iranian government concerning the imprisoned Baha'is immediately.

While I realize that the United States has had no formal diplomatic relations with Iran since the Islamic Revolution of the 70s, I feel that this situation requires immediate attention beyond the usual channels of governmental communication. Even letters of condemnation from our government are useless, as the zealous, fundamentalists leaders consider themselves beyond the reaches of the opinions and actions of foreign "infidel" governments. I implore you to fully investigate the perilous situation faced by Iranian Baha'is and other groups targeted by Islamic regime. My prayer is that some swift resolution will come about with the cooperation of other world leaders. These law-abiding citizens of Iran are being imprisoned for tissue-thin, illegitimate reasons, save for the fact that they are Baha'is. They are forbidden by laws set forth by the founder of our Faith, Baha'u'llah, to disobey the laws of their country or participate in any cause that would cause division between their countrymen. The only exception is that we cannot recant our faith, even when faced severe persecution.

Yet, Iranian Baha'is have quietly borne these affronts to their basic rights with an uncommon faith in God and the inevitable triumph of justice . More importantly, Baha'is all over the world are extorted to be of service to humanity in whatever way they can. Baha'is in Iran often set up schools for poor children whose parents could not pay for their education and were neglected by government attention, and they have donated their time, expertise and money (what little they now have since they are often forced out of their occupations) to numerous service projects and charities. For this, they have been imprisoned? It is unconscionable!

Please take the time to click on the links below to find out more information about the plight of Iranian Baha'is. I hope the posts will convince you to at least make some inquiry into the situation.
Seven Baha'i Leaders

ISNA report with statement by deputy prosecutor-general of Tehran announcing the trial

Statement from the Baha’i International Community categorically denying the charges
Lives of Service: Profiles of the seven Baha’i leaders

God bless you, and thank you for reading this message.

Angela D. Shortt
California, USA

It just keeps getting worse...

2009-02-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

The news from Iran seems to be more and more depressing every time I check the updates. Originally, I had intended to post about what I see as similarities between the Iranian regime and the Third Reich. But this latest story makes it clear that I don't have write such a post. The similarities are disgustingly clear, if the reader has even a glancing familiarity with history. As those events taught the world, the worst action is no action. Apathy. Self-absorption. Few of us are doing well economically speaking, unless you happen to be one of George W.'s or Dick Cheney's cronies. But those of us living in the US still have freedom of speech, and the power that it brings to the individual and the nation at large. Many people at the time felt that Hitler was merely a German despotic politician whose dangerous ideas and policies would have no effect on America. That insane tyrant managed to pull the entire world into his madness.

We could argue that we have been duped into a war in the Middle East by the former administration, therefore we should tread lightly, politically and economically speaking. However, I'm writing about human rights, a very basic requirement for living that the power-and-money crazed individuals seem to stomp into a blood-filled mass grave with impunity. We don't have to repeat the mistakes of the previous Executive branch of the government by marching over to Tehran with tanks, guns and oil fields on our minds. We can speak up. We save lives that way.

Do we really need a do-over of World War II with the Middle East? One could argue that it's already happening. We haven't felt the full impact of the explosion yet. Maybe a full scale World War is what is needed to bring about the Most Great Peace. If it is, I will be so sad because of the massive carnage that would take place. Mankind never seems to heed the warning: choose a different, wider path.

Case still open against Released Christians
February 10, 2009

Editor’s Note: The Iranian government is currently debating the adoption of a proposed penal code that would mandate the death penalty for apostates. This will have severe consequences not only for Baha’i prisoners, but also for the estimated 300.000 Christians.

LOS ANGELES, February 9 (Compass Direct News) – Arrested on Jan. 21 in Tehran, converts from Islam Jamal Galishorani and his wife Nadereh Jamali have been released on bail with an open case, though charges against them are still unknown, sources told Compass.

Authorities released Galishorani yesterday, and officials at Evin Prison freed his wife last week. Iranian Christians and international human rights agencies have feared that they could be charged with “apostasy,” or leaving Islam – potentially punishable by execution in the Shia Islamic republic.

A third Christian also arrested in Tehran on Jan. 21, Armenian Hamik Khachikian, was released after one week without charges.

The Galishoranis and Khachikian are members of Tehran’s Assemblies of God Church, an officially registered church, and were said to have held Bible studies in their home. The arrests of the Galishoranis and Khachikian, according to a source, are just part of the government’s increased harassment of Iran’s Christians.

“The pressure is continuous,” the source said. “In the past it came and went with waves.”

Possible Apostasy Charge

Sources told Compass that Mahmoude Azadeh, a 55-year-old Christian who has been incarcerated in Mashhad since last August, could face charges of apostasy.

He is expected to learn of exact charges, which also could include forming a Christian house group and propagating Christianity, at a Mashhad court hearing on Thursday (Feb. 12).

Azadeh has been in jail since security agents raided his house church in Nishapur; five others arrested with him were released shortly after. Azadeh has spent two months of his time in jail in solitary confinement, the sources said.

He was first arrested in June 2007 in Nishapur for two days, and after he and his family moved to Isfahan, authorities arrested him there in September of the same year, a source said.

In 2008, there were 73 documented arrests of Christians in Iran. A source working closely with churches in Iran expects there to be more arrests this year. A high-profile church leader was also taken into custody this year, the source said, and is still being held.

“With elections coming this year, there will be more arrests,” the source said. “The regime rules through fear, and they want Christians to be afraid.”

In addition to the approaching spring elections, the source said, exaggerated estimates of conversions by well-intentioned ministries outside of Iran may be contributing to reasons for the government’s increased scrutiny of the church.

“One minister in America claimed that in 2008 alone, 800,000 Iranians came to Christ,” the source said, adding that the government viewed such a high number of converts as a genuine threat to its rule and began to clamp down on churches.

The source noted that many Iranians wear Zoroastrian symbols and crucifixes merely as acts of rebellion against the government. “This doesn’t always mean that they are true believers,” he said.

The recent spate of arrests also included Baha’is.

As many Iranian Christians are either in prison or awaiting trial, the government continues to debate the adoption of a proposed penal code that would mandate the death penalty for apostates. The Iranian Parliament approved the new penal code last September, and the Guardian Council has yet to rule on it.

The council is made up of six conservative theologians appointed by Iran’s Supreme Leader and six jurists nominated by the judiciary and approved by Parliament. In the past, death sentences for apostasy were issued only under judicial interpretations of sharia (Islamic law).

The proposed legislation in the Iranian Parliament would make the death penalty mandatory for male apostates, while women convicted of apostasy would receive life in prison at most.

Many Iranian Christians believe the arrests in January mark the beginning of a renewed crackdown.

[Source: Compass Direct News at http://compassdirect.org/en/display.php?page=lead&lang=en&length=long&idelement=5803]

Around the World in 80 Faiths

2009-02-06T20:10:00.000-08:00

I grabbed this clip from BahaiPerspectives , which is an excellent site that I am heartily recommending. I would love to watch the entire BBC series, especially since I have doing a lot of thinking about the religions of the world, and how they relate to one another, even when the religious adherents do not believe there is any common ground. Such thoughts are probably common to most Baha'is, but I am also fascinated how fear of change (in the context of clinging to dogmatic rituals and teachings) creates hardship, isolation, and some cases, despair in people's lives. I can relate to the fear of change. I go through it every single day now. But I recognize it,and replace with prayers of steadfastness and protection. Change is painful, and unavoidable. For the people who cling to a past that no longer exists, the thought of completely changing their way of thinking, living, and believing in God must be terrifying. Anyway, I just wanted to share this video. I'm going to search for the entire series to see if I can order it.

Could this be us here in the US?

2009-02-06T10:47:00.000-08:00

From the website Baha'i Words
True civilization will unfurl its banner in the mid-most heart of the world whenever a certain number of its distinguished and high-minded sovereigns - the shining exemplars of devotion and determination - shall, for the good and happiness of all mankind, arise, with firm resolve and clear vision, to establish the Cause of Universal Peace.

~ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

I might be having one of my "weird" imaginings, but I sense that all of us living in the United States of America can do what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá is saying in this quote. It's not so much that we elected Barack Obama as president because I see that as a step toward peace, not the complete solution to the ills of this country and the rest of the world. There is so much to do, and I pray that President Obama manifests courage,steadfastness, integrity, honesty, and willingness to do what is best for for both this country and the world instead of what is politically expedient. I don't envy his job. Too many leaders have come to the position of power with noble ideals, only to give in to the backdoor compromises and handshaking with billionaire power-brokers with self-serving interests in Washington. But if President Obama can manage to avoid this, I feel this would be an important step toward establishing peace and true justice in the US and the world. Of course, we all have to contribute to this effort. The President cannot do this alone, nor should it be his sole responsibility. It belongs to all of us.

Hearken ye, O Rulers of America and the
Presidents of the Republics therein, unto that which
the Dove is warbling on the Branch of Eternity: "There
is none other God but Me, the Ever-Abiding, the
Forgiving, the All-Bountiful." Adorn ye the temple of
dominion with the ornament of justice and of the fear
of God, and its head with the crown of the
remembrance of your Lord, the Creator of the heavens.
Thus counselleth you He Who is the Dayspring of
Names, as bidden by Him Who is the All-Knowing,
the All-Wise. The Promised One hath appeared in this
glorified Station, whereat all beings, both seen and
unseen, have rejoiced. Take ye advantage of the Day of
God. Verily, to meet Him is better for you than all that
whereon the sun shineth, could ye but know it. O
concourse of rulers! Give ear unto that which hath been
raised from the Dayspring of Grandeur: "Verily, there
is none other God but Me, the Lord of Utterance, the
All-Knowing." Bind ye the broken with the hands of
justice, and crush the oppressor who flourisheth with
the rod of the commandments of your Lord, the
Ordainer, the All-Wise.

(Baha'u'llah, The Kitab-i-Aqdas, p. 52)

Addendum: I just read another article from the excellent website, Iran Press Watch, and this is another issue in basic human rights on this planet that we, as citizens of the United States and this planet, must never turn away from. There are nauseating and alarming similarities between the current Iranian regime and Nazi Germany, and those similarities also exist in other countries, as in Somalia and other African nations. I strongly feel that Iran, as the birthplace of the Baha'i Revelation, must be shown how to be just to all of its citizens, not only Baha'is. In doing so, the rest of the world can be put on notice--injustice, oppression, and violation of basic human rights will no longer be tolerated. And it is my own opinion, which does not represent members of the Baha'i Faith and the Baha'i World Center, that President Obama should take steps to insure that the Iranian and all other oppressive governments of the world realize that their reprehensible actions have not gone unnoticed, and will result in considerable negative consequences.
The following article brought the latest actions of the Iranian regime into poignantly sharp view: Iran's Secret Purges

My former English professor and mentor

2009-02-04T12:18:00.000-08:00

The guy is still kicking butt and taking names! (I accidentally published this before I finished the draft, and the only way I knew it was that I saw a link to this article on Phillipe's blog Baha'i Thought ! Good looking out, my brotha!) The following passage is from an article that appeared on sacbee.com:

Marc Bertonasco, a CSUS emeritus professor and co- author of "Prose Style," a popular college writing text, also sees "The Elements of Style" as too restrictive.

"Oh, it had influence on me, no question. It was the pioneer in what is unofficially called the new style – clear, straightforward writing aiming at efficiency. It's a reaction to bureaucratese," he said.

"But I'm a classical rhetorician, and my position is this: No style is better than any other."

I had to chuckle at the last quote. If that's true, Professor Bertonasco has mellowed considerably over the years. I remember sitting in the classroom and watching a man so passionate about style and rhetoric as demonstrated by Aristotle (who seemed to be his favorite), Euripides, Marcus Aurelius, Socrates and countless others that he would sledgehammer his desk as he talked, which was a startling demonstration of power and strength for a man with such a slight build. This, of course, caused most of my classmates to leap up in their chairs with alarm, which made me lapse into near-hysterical fits of laughter(I have referred to my inner stinker/trickster characteristic on this blog). I spent most of the class with my head buried in the crook of my arm, trying to suppress the surges of hilarity. Oh, how I miss those days! Boredom dared not enter the classroom of Marc Bertonasco!

My impression(and I very well could be wrong) was that Professor Bertonasco had a hierarchical view of the English literary canon--the classical rhetoricians, dramatists and poets (the Greeks and the Romans,who, in his opinion, represented the pinnacle of literary achievement); the Metaphysical Poets (especially John Donne); the Biblical scholars such as St. Augustine, St. Barnaba, Martin Luther; the Renaissance writers like Dante', Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Petrarch (who I referred to in whispers as "Pet Rock"), and Cervantes; some of the writers of the British Romantic era, followed by a sprinkling of American writers who have been considered "great" by the English literary canon(Twain, Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the like). He did surprise me a few times by expressing admiration for a few contemporary popular American writers such as Stephen King. His reasoning was that writers like King are masterful with vivid descriptions of scene and character capture the readers' attention from the first sentence to the last, thereby earning academic consideration irrespective of popular appeal.

What this meant to me as a student was that I benefited from his extensive storehouse of literary knowledge because he presented the information in a demonstrative, lively, engaging style, and I was able to appreciate the collective works of a bunch of "dead white guys" (my own nickname for writers the professor discussed in his classes) in a way that helped me retain the information. If I had to take those required classes from one of those stiff, erudite traditional professors who deliver their lectures in a eye-glazing monotone, I would have slept through the classes. And my grades would have reflected my slumped over position in class.

Unfortunately, I did nod off for more than a few times, in spite of all of myEnglish professors' compelling lectures. That was due to my progressively damaging addiction to flour and sugar products, which caused my blood sugar spike up high then crash a half hour later. When that happened, no amount of thundering from the front of the classroom would keep me awake. I know this is a digression from the topic at hand, one that I have covered extensively in previous blogs (and will expand upon further in my new blog on BerthaButtNoMore ), but I hope this explains how those products interrupt and diminish the learning process.

Keep in mind that prior to enrolling in Professor Bertonasco's classes, I was not very keen on taking classes in what I considered to be the condescendingly patriarchal and covertly racist literary canon (Hint: I admired the Black Panthers while I was still in puberty, and I had read The Female Eunuch and The Autobiography of Malcolm X by the time I was thirteen.) But he didn't really change my view; he made it possible for me to put aside my bias for the time being and simply LEARN. I needed to get my degree, and in order to do that, I had to absorb the information and demonstrate that I had retained the knowledge and the skills expected of a student matriculating from the undergraduate program in English. Professor Bertonasco, along with professors Lucien Augosta, David Bell, Richard Bankowsky, Olivia Castellano, Kathryn Hohlwein, Mary Mackey, Charles Moore, Chauncey Ridley,Dennis Schmitz and William Dorman from the Journalism department have changed my life by encouraging me to be a much better writer, an attentive reader and a critical thinker. (Forgive the colloquial and ungrammatical usage, but I gots to give props to the profs!) Most, or perhaps all are professors emeriti now, but they have all contributed in a very profound way to my education.

This is not an insignificant part of my life. The Baha'i Faith emphasizes that education should compulsory for EVERYONE living on this planet, and it is an absolute necessity for the intellectual, material and most of all, spiritual advancement of humanity:

What, then, is the mission of the divine Prophets? Their mission is the education and advancement of the world of humanity. They are the real Teachers and Educators, the universal Instructors of mankind. If we wish to discover whether any one of these great Souls or Messengers was in reality a Prophet of God, we must investigate the facts surrounding His life and history, and the first point of our investigation will be the education He bestowed upon mankind. If He has been an Educator, if He has really trained a nation or people, causing it to rise from the lowest depths of ignorance to the highest station of knowledge, then we are sure that He was a Prophet. This is a plain and clear method of procedure, proof that is irrefutable. We do not need to seek after other proofs. We do not need to mention miracles, saying that out of rock water gushed forth, for such miracles and statements may be denied and refused by those who hear them. The deeds of Moses are conclusive evidences of His Prophethood. If a man be fair, unbiased and willing to investigate reality, he will undoubtedly testify to the fact that Moses was, verily, a man of God and a great Personage.

(Abdu'l-Baha, The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 364)

At the heart of the Bahá'í perspective on popular participation in development is an equally challenging conception of the nature and purpose of human existence. In the Bahá'í view, man is neither a fallen creature nor merely the product of socio-economic forces. The rational soul, in the Bahá'í view, is a phenomenon with limitless potentialities: intellectual, spiritual, emotional and moral. Service to humanity is among the primary influences unlocking individual capacity.

Within this context, the Bahá'í International Community views popular participation as essential to development and to the full realization of all human rights. We believe that education in the principle of service to humanity will arouse and maintain motivation which, coupled with the acquisition of practical skills and technology, will open as yet unimagined possibilities for development within and among nations. In particular, educational programmes at the grass-roots level can help young people develop personal confidence and acquire the necessary skills for contributing to the development process in their own communities.

Moreover, the Bahá'í International Community believes that it is especially important to promote participation among groups which have traditionally been oppressed or neglected, such as indigenous peoples and women, so that they can assume their legitimate role in making decisions about development which directly affect them.

The active involvement of women, called for under article 8 of the Declaration on the Right to Development, is crucial to the development process. In most societies, women have been relegated to an inferior role in the social order, although they bear the brunt of the day-to-day work. Women should be not only allowed, but encouraged to play a prominent role in formulating solutions to the problems facing their communities. Development programmes must, therefore, have as their aim the improvement of the status of women.

Fostering a genuine belief in the oneness of humanity, an awareness of global interdependence, and a moral commitment to service, in both developing and developed countries, is indispensable to the process of development. On the one hand, it creates a sense of self-esteem and self-reliance in peoples who have been oppressed. On the other, it exposes and counteracts exploitative and unjust economic practices in those societies which perpetrate them, thus restoring their integrity and allowing them to meet their international obligations more appropriately.

(Baha'i International Community, 1989 Feb 09, Right to Development)

It is with sincere indebtedness that I thank all of my former professors for contributing to my intellectual and spiritual advancement.

From Iran Press Watch: The Baha'is

2009-01-29T21:45:00.000-08:00

I feel that this is an important story, with international implications for the US government and its people. All of this is for the Glory of God, even though it is extremely sad to read about how many people in Iran, Baha'is and non-Baha'is alike, continue to suffer mightily under the current regime. However, all of us can take an action. Please reprint these articles on your blogs. Silence keeps the status quo in place.

Iran: Using terror internally and abroad
January 29, 2009

Editor’s note: The following article was written by Wahied Wahdat-Hagh and is reposted here due to its importance for our readers’ information. A german translation can be found at http://europeandemocracy.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=13322&catid=4&Itemid=22

On 14 January Iranian secret service agents arbitrarily detained at least six members of the Baha’i religion in Tehran, including a former female colleague of Shirin Ebadi. At the same time terror propaganda against pro-Western Arab regimes continues.

On the morning of 14 January, Iranian secret service agents conducted raids in at least 11 homes of members of the Baha’i religion in Tehran. Computers, mobile phones, private notes, books and photos were confiscated. At least six Baha’is were arbitrarily detained, five of whom were taken to the notorious Evin prison. They are Mrs Jinous Sobhani, Mr Shahrokh Taefi, Mr Didar Raoufi, Mr Payam Aghsani and Mrs Aziz Samandari. Only Mr Golshan Sobhani was released after a few hours.

As recently as 21 December 2008, Jinous Sobhani had been the victim of aggression by Iranian officials when they raided and shut down the Centre for the Defence of Human Rights in Tehran run by Nobel Prize laureate Shirin Ebadi. The Centre was also home to a mine clearance project, for which Jinous Sobhani worked. The projects were partly financed from the money that Shirin Ebadi received for winning the Nobel Prize. On 21 December 2008, Jinous Sobhani was forced to leave her place of work and go home. She was arbitrarily detained on 14 January.

Continued pressure against human rights campaigners

Shirin Ebadi has expressed her regret and said that she regarded the detention of her former colleague as a continuation of the pressure against the Centre for the Defence of Human Rights.

As the Campaign for Equality reported, Jinous Sobhani had previously published a number of legal texts in domestic newspapers. Diane Ala’i, representative of the International Baha’i Community at the United Nations, told Radio Farda concerning the detentions: “These people were detained because of their belief in the Baha’i religion.” Diane Ala’i also pointed to the “general human rights situation” in Iran, reported Baha’i World News Service.

On 14 January, nine Baha’i students studying at the university in the Iranian city of Kerman were forced to leave the university purely because they were Baha’i.

Iranian media’s conspiracy theories against the Baha’is

The Iranian media is keeping up its conspiracy theories against the Baha’is: for example, just as the BBC Persian-language television channel was launched, an article on the aims of this new British service appeared, from the news agency Tabnak, which belongs to the former Revolutionary Guards general Mohssen Rezai. This report obviously referred to Baha’i connections with the BBC Persian-language radio service, which has been broadcasting daily since 1941.

It is not enough for the totalitarian dictatorship of the Islamic “Republic” of Iran to repress the weakest members of society, including the women’s and human rights movements and the students’ and workers’ movements – anyone with a different philosophy of life is regarded as a threat to the dictatorship. Hojatuleslam Shirazi recently warned of a “velvet revolution”. Any non-Islamist way of thought can be regarded as a threat in Iran.

Internal Islamisation goes hand in hand with export of the revolution abroad. No lesser person than General Mohssen Rezai said in September 2008 that supporting the Palestinians would “strengthen Iran’s national security”.

Terror abroad: “Islamist ecumenism” or jihad against the West

Since 1982, Iran has been demonstrably active in training militant Islamist jihadists to set up theocracies around the Islamic world, based on the model of Iran. But what would happen if the Egyptian president was assassinated in a terrorist attack? Would not the Iranian state, as a result of its inflammatory state propaganda of the past few weeks, be responsible for mobilising radical and fanatical students as accomplices to a terrorist act?

At the beginning of the year the student Bassiji units, who apparently do not need study grants, announced that they would pay a bounty of one million dollars to anyone who kills Egypt’s President Mubarak. Iranian Islamists, who in the opinion of some authors in Germany are in the process of forming an “Islamist ecumenism” with Hamas and Hezbollah, call this a “revolutionary execution”.

On 12 January Fardanews, which is close to Ahmadinejad, reported that the “prize for Mubarak’s execution was being raised to 1.5 million dollars”. Egypt’s President Mubarak was described as the “Egyptian pharaoh”. In Iran, oil is no longer officially sold in dollars, but it is still perfectly acceptable to issue a bounty in dollar, particularly for “hostile” presidents.

300 people have come forward as voluntary assassins

Sadeq Shabazi, chairman of the “Student Movement for Justice”, said: “Three decades ago the martyr Khalid Eslamboli shot dead Egypt’s traitorous president. This was the revolutionary execution of Anwar Sadat. Today the entire Egyptian people confirms that what Eslamboli did was a necessary step.” He went on to say that Mubarak cooperated with the “Zionist regime”. Shabazi gloated about the fact that more than 300 people had come forward as voluntary assassins in the Iranian city of Mashad alone. Years ago the state has named a street in Tehran after Anwar Sadat’s killer.

So is it really moderate, as is often claimed, if the Islamist leader Ali Khamenei prevents a mass of fanatics from flying to Gaza to die terrorists’ deaths there? Not really, since such a step could signify a direct entry into war, something that Ali Khamenei does not intend to risk. However, the militant Bassiji units have been trained for the fateful day for years. They are regarded as a reserve unit of the Iranian army. Iranian politicians have repeatedly warned that they would react with an asymmetric war if the situation became serious. There are authors in Germany who talk of a “consolidated” Iranian state that is acting almost rationally - unlike the Pakistani state.

Murderous gifts

No lesser person than the Iranian leader Ali Khamenei himself had called for the jihad against Israel - and this does not involve humanitarian aid for a region in crisis, by any means. It should not be forgotten that it is Iranian weapons that Hamas and Hezbollah are using, and the money for buying the weapons and rockets did not come from the gross national product generated in Gaza or southern Lebanon. For 28 years, Iran has been training terrorists who are supposedly defending Islam and, as such, are merely conducting a proxy war for the Khomeini dictatorship.

Iran’s rulers have still not issued free plane tickets for terrorists marching voluntarily into death, and they are still preventing them from going on their mass organised journey abroad. They continue to content themselves with training and supporting jihadists who provide them with “resistance”. The question remains how long the international community will continue to look on seriously as both Iran and Syria supply weapons to Islamist terrorist organisations. After all, the rockets and military equipment used by Hamas and Hezbollah were not paid for by wealth generated in Gaza and southern Lebanon. Instead they are murderous gifts, bloodstained dollars that serve present-day Iran’s national security, as General Rezai stressed last September.

If US President Obama does speak with Iran’s rulers, he should make it clear to them and the world that Iran needs a secular democracy, freedom of opinion and belief, political freedoms rather than Islamist fractions and the Khomeinistic totalitarian dictatorship of Velayat Faqih. This is because a totalitarian dictatorship with a religious stamp, as prevails in Iran, can not genuinely act responsible within its own system nor show reason internally and abroad.

I'm BACK!!!

2009-01-26T10:29:00.000-08:00

Yep, I'm back online, FINALLY! One thing I have learned over and over again the past few months of being off line--everything is in God's Will, not mine. The problem is, I forget that a lot, which is why I work a 12 step program for food addiction. I won't go into much detail about that on this blog anymore because I'm going to create another blog to discuss my food and other addiction issues. More about that later, but let it suffice to say that the more I work my 12 step program, the more the words of Baha'u'llah resonate deeper within me:

Hold ye fast unto His statutes and commandments,
and be not of those who, following their idle
fancies and vain imaginings, have clung to the
standards fixed by their own selves, and cast behind
their backs the standards laid down by God.

(Baha'u'llah, The Kitab-i-Aqdas, p. 24)

Thou beholdest, O my God, how every bone in my body soundeth like a pipe with the music of Thine inspiration, revealing the signs of Thy oneness and the clear tokens of Thy unity. I entreat Thee, O my God, by Thy Name which irradiateth all things, to raise up such servants as shall incline their ears to the voice of the melodies that hath ascended from the right hand of the throne of Thy glory. Make them, then, to quaff from the hand of Thy grace the wine of Thy mercy, that it may assure their hearts, and cause them to turn away from the left hand of idle fancies and vain imaginings to the right hand of confidence and certitude.

(Baha'u'llah, Prayers and Meditations by Baha'u'llah, p. 111)

It is now clear to me that I have no sense of moderation in all aspects of daily living, not just in the area of food. My "idle fancies and vain imaginings" are my various addictions, obsessive thoughts and actions, daily distractions with petty trifles, and being plagued with nervous anxiety, "fear, doubt and insecurity", as described in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, which is the foundational text of all 12 step programs. This book is a miraculous tool that was written to help mankind rid itself of the veils of fancies and vain imaginings that keep us from communing with the Source of All Creation, the Most High. We are all blessed, whether we are Baha'i, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Zoroastrian, pagan, agnostic and even atheist (although they might be hard pressed to admit any need of help, but it is there regardless), to have such a tool available to us during the Most Holy of Days, these days where humankind stands poised upon the precipice of change, as many in the United States have felt so deeply that they voiced their discontent with the staid methods of social and political life by electing Barack Obama as their president. I have been experiencing change in a deeply transformational manner and on a personal, social and spiritual level. And there is so much change yet to come. I feel it in the very core of my being, and I pray daily for the courage, strength, trust and faith to welcome it.

So far, the blessings have been many. I was able to let go of excess food and obsession with fantasy relationships with the opposite sex (the epitome of "idle fancies and vain imaginings", in my opinion) enough to be present in mind, body and spirit as my mother lay dying. Although we were in a nursing home room with two other elderly women whose beds were separated by thin hospital curtains, and the constant presence medical and administrative workers gave us very little privacy, I was able to let the tears flow, hold my mother's hand and tell her I love her. As I experienced the miracle of relief that she was finally releasing her lifelong pain and surrendering her spirit to God, the remorse of seeing my life with Mom re-wound in painful clarity. I reviewed all of my willful manipulation of both of my parents for emotional and/or financial gain, my appalling demonstrations of childishness, self-serving accusations and so-called righteous indignation. The remorse flooded over me as I silently asked for her forgiveness. I also felt, as I do right now, regret that I did not set aside my self-centeredness earlier. What I did not say out loud was how sorry I was (and still sorry) that I couldn't have been a better daughter to her. I don't know if she heard me physically because her body was so consumed with the burden of breathing and remaining alive minute by minute, but I hope she heard me spiritually.

When I am into excess portions of food, which, for me, has alway been all flour products (even whole grain), anything high in fat content, all sugars and even worse, the combination of all of these properties as represented in food like cheesecake, apple fritters, red velvet or "down home style" pound cake, etc, (I'm dangerously close to doing food fantasy here, however, I just wanted to illustrate to the reader the source and depth of my "idle fancies" along with what led to my previous high weight of 400 pounds and three time near death experiences), I cannot show up for life. My mind becomes completely absorbed with what I'm going to eat next, and how good it is going to taste. Life becomes a constant search for the thrill of taste, and no matter how much I delve into the wanderings of my highly evolved taste buds, complete satisfaction always eludes me. I just want more and more and more. I won't go into the increasingly hazardous cycle of addiction and its corresponding downward spiral of the mind, body and spirit. Copious volumes has been written on the subject. Just google "cycle" "addiction" and be amazed by the number of hits you'll receive. Most of it is about drug and alcohol addiction, but trust me, the same dynamics apply to food addiction.

I'm grateful that recovery brought me close to my mother at the closing hours of her life. There have been other blessings--I now wear a size 18-20 instead of 30-32, as I have for the past 26 years of my adult life. The last time I wore this size, I was in junior high school. I can bend over and touch my toes, and walk anywhere I want. Sometimes I don't use my cane, but because of my deformed hip and lower spine, I still need it for balance. I can play soccer and climb on the playground equipment with my beloved grandson. I don't need as much pain medication. My periods of depression are becoming shorter. And best of all, when I pray, meditate and beseech God to use me to do His Work, I am better able to carry out the tasks in front of me.

I am writing professionally now, and doing the footwork of making my God-given ability to be of service to mankind, all the while trusting that my economic fears will be removed. I am starting to talk less and listen more to those close to me, and I realize how precious my family is to me. It is much more important to be emotionally and mentally PRESENT when I'm around them, instead of mentally tallying their character defects and all the ways they have annoyed me in the past. What a complete waste of time that was!

And, God willing, my apartment complex and Baha'i community will be the focus of service and teaching projects, which is so exciting and re-energizing to me! I'm sure there will be unknown obstacles and challenges in this undertaking, but even in the discussion and formative stages, friends are gathering in agreement to do the work set forth by this Glorious Era. Not often is a person afforded the opportunity to take even a tiny part in the significant changes of our world. I'm thankful that my 12 step program shows me the how to be present in my life so I can be of service to others. These activities keep me out of the food and my idle fancied, fantasy addled mind. And, though I never thought I would say these words, but living the life God has willed for me and being of service to mankind feels better than any food has ever tasted, and MUCH better than any real or imagined relationship I've ever had with the opposite sex.

Ya' Baha'ul Abha'!

62. O SON OF MAN!
Many a day hath passed over thee whilst thou hast busied thyself with thy fancies and idle imaginings. How long art thou to slumber on thy bed? Lift up thy head from slumber, for the Sun hath risen to the zenith, haply it may shine upon thee with the light of beauty.

63. O SON OF MAN!
The light hath shone on thee from the horizon of the sacred Mount and the spirit of enlightenment hath breathed in the Sinai of thy heart. Wherefore, free thyself from the veils of idle fancies and enter into My court, that thou mayest be fit for everlasting life and worthy to meet Me. Thus may death not come upon thee, neither weariness nor trouble.

Eulogy for my mother

2009-01-13T17:27:00.000-08:00

Mom with my grandson Xavier, when he was a newborn.

Eulogy for Mary Ellen Shortt

(To an individual believer, March 27, 1938)

"'Evolution in the life of the individual starts with the formation of the human embryo and passes through various stages, and even continues after death in another form. The human spirit is capable of infinite development

"'Man's identity or rather his individuality is never lost. His reality as a person remains intact throughout the various states of his development. He does not pre-exist in any form before coming into this world.'

(Compilations, Lights of Guidance by Shoghi Effendi, p. 536)

How do you capture a lifetime of diverse moments in a few paragraphs? Mom used to tell all us kids that we could do anything if we really wanted to do it. But as life would reveal to me over the years, there are some things that are simply out of my control, if not downright impossible. Capturing a lifetime of experiences on paper is one of those things. But the attempt is well worth the effort, especially since the subject is the life of one indomitable, absolutely incomparable woman, my mother, Mary Ellen Shortt.

To tell her story, of course, it is necessary to start at the beginning, which is with God, the Source of all being in this universe. One of her favorite verses of the Old Testament was Genesis 1:1. “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” That said it all. God, for her, was the Alpha and the Omega. “Fear God, not any man, woman or child”, she told us. And we listened. We also feared and loved her because she was one of those “powerful forces of nature” that spared no quarter, especially when it came to protecting us from the cruelty of the world.

She was the youngest child of four born to James and Amy Graham in the racially (and unfortunately, legally) segregated Leesburg, Florida. The country was in the midst of the Great Depression at the time, although that economic fact made little difference to the Graham family. Like everyone else living in the deep South during Jim Crow, poverty was the way of life before the stock market crash of 1929, and that did not change during Mary’s childhood and adolescence. Her father, James, “followed the seasons” picking fruit and vegetables all of the South and the East Coast, while her mother fished in the nearby lake and grew vegetables in their tiny garden. Mom was drawing water from the well in the backyard, cooking cornbread and rice on an old fashioned wood-burning stove, and washing dishes by the time she was four years. In fact, she was so small that she fell into the tub of dishwater and nearly drowned.
But she learned to complete her chores quickly and efficiently, lest she suffer the wrath of fiery-tempered part-Seminole Indian mother, whose startlingly powerful accuracy with her fists and various projectiles was legendary in Leesburg. My grandmother’s penchant for inflicting physical agony extended to not only her children, but anyone who came in close contact with her. In spite of this, Mom learned the practical value of hard work, determination to overcome obstacles, and taking pride in yourself and your surroundings, even if you don’t have more than one change of clothes and one pair of shoes.

For most of her childhood and adolescence, Mom only had one change of clothes and a pair of shoes. But she made do with what she had, and as she explained to me, my sister Tam and my brother Ricky, her clothes were always clean, starched and ironed neatly, and her shoes were always polished until they glistened. The message we learned was never let ANYTHING take you out of the game of life. You might get down on your luck sometimes, but you never, ever, stay down. Defeat is unacceptable.

It was this stubborn determination that led her to take a long walk from her family’s shack in the outlying Black Bottom to Leesburg proper with a stack of rhythm and blues records in her arms. She was fourteen years old, and she was tired of hearing her friends at the Lake County Technical School complaining about how the local radio station played nothing but “old-timey” records that were popular back in the 20s, 30s and 40s. That music was unacceptable to the black kids who loved to dance and sing to Ruth Brown, Etta James, the Platters, the Drifters, and Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. Mom gathered up some of her most cherished 33 and 1/3 vinyl albums (along with some belonging to her closest friends and brother Hardy), and walked all the way to radio station WBLE in Leesburg to ask the manager if he would play her albums instead of the “old-timey” records during the daily “rhythm and blues” hour.

The year was 1951, Jim Crow was in full effect, and my mother was justifiably nervous about being in the “white folks” side of town. Twenty five years earlier, the entire black population (save for seven children and three adults) of Rosewood, Florida was massacred and their homes burned to the ground by an incensed white mob. Mom grew up hearing stories about that horrific night, and she had witnessed numerous incidents of racial cruelty, including a hit and run mauling of a childhood friend by diesel truck, whose driver sneered and laughed as her friend’s body sailed up into the air and landed with an appalling splat on the pavement. In spite of this history, Mom summoned up that infamous determination, walked up to the radio station and knocked on the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the man who opened the door. “But the music you play on the rhythm and blues hour is that old-fashioned stuff, and my friends at school…I mean all of us…don’t like it. We like to dance, and that music ain’t good to dance to. Can you play these records instead?”

Mom never described the white man she was talking to, except to say that he looked and sounded like he had plugs of chewing tobacco in both cheeks. He studied her for a moment before speaking, and Mom was sure he was going to spit on her and tell her to get the hell out of his doorway. To her surprise, he didn’t.

“I’ll tell you what, Missy,” he told her. “You come on down here tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll show you how to play your records for your friends. You just gather up some sponsors to pay for the time, and you can have your own radio show.”

Soon after, “The Mopsy Show” debuted on WBLE. Mom was the producer, advertising manager, announcer and disc jockey. She approached every beauty and barber shop, grocery store, funeral parlor, used car lot and restaurant in Leesburg, Wildwood, Black Bottom and Eustis to get them to buy air time on her show. Since she didn’t drive or own any form of transportation, she had to either walk or hitchhike to pick up ad money and get to the radio station. She didn’t know how she would get out to the station each week; it was located twenty miles from her home out in Black Bottom. But somehow, she found a way, and “The Mopsy Show” (“Mopsy” was her nickname) stayed on the air for two years.

Her show became a hit, and even though she didn’t make a dime of profit from the enterprise, she managed to maintain enough air time income to expand her show from one hour to four hours weekly. Everyone loved Mopsy, and she loved doing the show. She was never nervous, or at a loss for words when she was on the mike. Mom cued up the records and played them, took requests and read all the commercials herself. She was a one-woman frenzy of radio production, but never felt stressed out over any aspect of show except arranging transportation each day. Broadcasting felt natural, as if she was meant to have a career in radio. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she decided to she would devote her energy to radio. There was only one problem—she didn’t know how to market her WBLE experience into a full time career. Even worse, there was no one in Black Bottom, Leesburg, Wildwood or Eustis who could show her how to take the next step. All she knew was that the most popular radio programs were broadcast from New York City, so she made the Big Apple her post-high school destination.

Mom made it to New York, but she never found a way into broadcasting. Instead, she took a receptionist job and a room in an apartment owned by an elderly lady who had once lived in Leesburg. When she figured out that being a receptionist was not going to get her anywhere, she enlisted in the United States Air Force. When she was stationed in Montgomery, Alabama after basic training, she was introduced to a young non-commissioned officer in the Air Force who was home on leave visiting his mother. His name was Richard Sydney Shortt, and he eventually became her husband and the father of her three children.

The rest, as the cliché’ goes, was history. Mom was disappointed that she was unable to materialize her dream career, but instead of lamenting her situation, she turned that iron-clad and hard work ethic into managing a family. It was not an easy task, especially since our family (which included Dad, me, my sister Tam and my brother Ricky) was ordered by Uncle Sam to pull up stakes and move to a different Air Force base every two and a half years. When she decided to go to college, she dedicated herself to the task, even though she had two daughters who were navigating that difficult maturation stage known as adolescence. She used that steam engine approach with her job as a probation officer—she put forth her best effort at all times. She really didn’t know how to do life any other way. As far as she was concerned, no task was worth doing unless it was done right.

“Don’t do anything half-assed,” she used to tell us. “Half-assed will get you no where.”

That saying, along with hundreds more “Mommyisms”, are like the rudder on a glass-bottomed boat slicing through the Florida Everglades—they help all of us steer clear of life’s “tangled web”. In spite of my tomboy tendencies, I still hear Mom telling me that “a young lady should always look her very best before walking out the door”. Then I look in the mirror and wonder if I should iron my blouse or put on makeup. Or, in typical Mary fashion, I will doggedly take on what seems to be an impossible task, regardless of the obstacles. A child of Mary Shortt never backs down from a challenge.

“You can do whatever you set your mind to do,” the woman formerly known as “Mopsy” told her children.

We love you, Mom
Your family

A Passing

2009-01-03T11:56:00.000-08:00

My mother, Mary Ellen Shortt at the turntable during WBLE DJ days in Leesburg, FL.

My mother, Mary Ellen Graham Shortt, made her transition from this plane of existence to the next world on New Year's Eve at 4:50 pm. She went peacefully, after a very long struggle with very complicated health problems which I have discussed in previous blogs. None of what I feared and railed about came to pass, and the experience proved to me that God is truly in control of EVERYTHING. The problem was I was too self-centered at the time to see it. Considering what an selfish brat I have been, the Almighty, the Most Powerful in His Grace and Bounty, saw fit that I would spend most of what turned out to be my mother's last day at her bedside, holding her hand. I told her that I loved her, over and over again. And I told her that I was sorry that I haven't been a better daughter. And I meant every word of it. They say your life unfolds before you when you are in the process of dying. Well, my life with my mother unfolded before my eyes as she lay dying. I saw scenes of our interactions, and for the first time, I saw the damage inflicted in our relationship by my selfishness and my obsession with food, daydreaming and the opposite sex. I'm so grateful that I was able to make my amends to her while she was still here. I have no doubt that I would have been able to do the same after she passed into the Abha' Kingdom, but I believe that God made possible for me to be with her physically while I did my amends. I will be forever grateful for that.

I will post more later, more than likely after her memorial service, which will be held on Thursday, January 8 at 1 pm. I won't be able to have much time online until then, but for those people who live in Sacramento and would like to attend her memorial service, it will be held at Thompson Funeral Home, 3601 5th Avenue, Sacramento, CA 95817. For more information, you can call (916) 455-3038, and anyone at Thompson's can give you directions to the chapel. I promise you--this will be VERY atypical funeral service. Nothing else will suffice to celebrate the extraordinary life of the commander and leader of the Shortt family, Mary Ellen Shortt.

Still off line...

2008-10-28T17:01:00.000-07:00

I guess I'm not supposed to be distracted from what I'm doing right now, which is:

1)Celebrating one year of intense recovery from food addiction and a loss over 80 pounds as of October 1;

2) Being fully present in my life and taking the "next right action" instead of pondering and daydreaming about the future all the damn time;

3) Marveling at the fact that God has kept me serene and abstinent while placing my mother in a skilled nursing facility and dealing with all the legal/emotional issues of being her conservator while my father continues to drink and wonder why Mom can't live with him anymore. I had to take action to ensure that my mother receives the care she needs, and my Dad can't care for her anymore. No one in the family can. I feel guilt, sadness and anxiety, but I still eat only my three weighed and measured meals, one day at a time! This is truly a MIRACLE! Praise God! He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His bidding!

4) My favorite holiday is coming up on this Friday, and I get to spend it with my little man--my grandson! I'm dressing up as a witch, and he's going to be a swashbuckling pirate. Just like last year, Halloween is not about the "treats" anymore--it's all about having fun with my little man. My daughter doesn't allow him to eat candy (thank goodness), so we probably won't do the trick or treat thing. But Nana is full of magic and creativity these days, so we're going to have a good ole' time!

5) It looks like I have a tummy tuck and hip replacement coming up within the next six months. My orthopedic surgeon is seeing me on November 4 to set the hip replacement surgery date, and my primary care physician is working on the referral for the tummy tuck, which is being done for medical, not cosmetic reasons. I have a large amount of excess belly skin that pulls on my lower spine, causing my disks to compress (I've lost two whole inches--I used to be five feet seven, now I'm five feet five!) and an awful lot of pain. But I won't mind having a flatter tummy, of course!

I don't know when I'll be back online, but in the meantime, please believe that I mean this--I hope all of you experience astounding miracles in your daily lives as I have in mine. I never thought I even had a slight chance of being in a normal sized body. It's not only possible, it's happening! I just show up do the 1% of the work. God does the rest. He keeps me calm and comforted in the midst of the storms of life. Miracles are real! Ya' Baha'u'l Abha'!

Manguwansi...

2008-09-24T16:53:00.000-07:00

(Yes, I know the title doesn't make sense. It's a Kikongo word for a type of bean that grows in the jungles of Africa that without reason or warning, makes up its own mind when it wants to flourish. When manguwansi decides that it has fed the people quite enough, it shrivels up and dies. It is quite temperamental. Manguwansi is also the nickname for a friend who doesn't think much of himself, and exhibits behaviors reminiscent of his namesake. I pray for him nightly. This is an open letter for him.

Life has brought me some unexpected gifts lately. In a space of one week, I am getting a date with my orthopedic surgeon, I have granted the opportunity to create three different programs, two program are focused on teaching basic and creative writing skills to adults, and the other a character education program for the preschoolers who live in my apartment complex. And all of this is flexible enough to be happen around my surgery.

Why did this happen? Not because I'm "lucky", or that I even created my luck. I just worked recovery and surrendered my life to care of God. I do what I need to do recover each day, and ask God for help with the rest. That's it. People seem to be willing to do help me with whatever it is I need, even financially. I am astounded.

I'm guilty of tremendously underestimating God's grace and bounty, and I pray for His continued assistance.

Be kind and forgiving to yourself, Manguwansi. You may be temperamental, but you'll flourish more if you start loving yourself as much as God loves you. To do otherwise is to scorn one of God's greatest creations, namely you. Nothing thrives in a negative environment. Yeah, that's a relativism, a generality, you shabuir. I continue to use them as I see fit.

I'm not ready to talk yet. I have more work to do. But I still care about what happens to you. But I have been shown the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel (sue me for the cliche'). Doing the samba through the streets of Old Sacramento was spiritually uplifting. I'll see you on the dance floor within a year, and I WILL wear your butt out! Believe it, you merciless, insufferable shabuir!

Not all the WAY back, but...

2008-09-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

...I just wanted to get up to date and let y'all know I'm still amongst the living! First things first--recovery is working today. I had to lose some more of my severely entrenched "self-will run riot" and gain a lot more fear and respect for my addiction. I am truly, 100% powerless; I'm more convinced of that every nanosecond. People have told me, "You're doing so well; the weight is just melting away!" Well, they can't see into the malevolent tsunami that is my food-addled brain, and how much praying and talking to God I have to do to keep eating my three meals a day and all the rest of the stuff that I do on a daily basis. It isn't me doing this; I swear. I have never turned away from my family's homemade macaroni and cheese in the entire fifty years I've lived on this planet. But I did just that this past week. Twice.

I'm going to skip the food "porn" description of the Shortt family's baked macaroni and cheese. Let it suffice to say that everything that a person can put into mac and cheese that exceeds the adult daily serving of fats ten times over goes into our family recipe. I'm shocked that none of us have keeled over in the midst of wolfing down immeasurable amounts of butterfat. Yet, I ate it, and ate it, and ate it.

I can't tell you what it miracle it was to be with my family and not eat my all time favorite food, which, along Havarti cheese and French bread, cheesecake, and various flavors of Haggen Daas, Ben and Jerry's and Godiva ice cream and turtle brownies and Tollhouse cookies has constituted my most beloved food fantasies of the past. But no more, or at least when the thoughts come up I don't indulge them the way I used to. God is truly amazing, Denise Williams sang. I can certainly testify to that.

Here's what I'm thankful for:

a) I had a very, very ugly break in recovery that made me violently ill. It was a sobering lesson that I PRAY I will NEVER forget.

b) I'm in physical therapy three times a week, and it's working.

c) My weight loss has put me in acceptable range for a hip replacement surgery date. My surgeon's assistant called me this afternoon to tell me the good news, although I won't get an exact date until after the first week of January. I don't care. Praise God! I'm going to walk normally soon!

d) I've been playing with my grandson since Saturday night, and this morning, we played a toddler version of soccer at the playground, and I actually climbed up some playground equipment so I could help my grandson go down the slides. I haven't been able to do that in over 25 years!

e) There was a World Dance Festival in Old Sacramento yesterday, and I danced the samba in the streets with members of American River College Afro-Caribbean dance troupe. It was sublimely exhilarating! I had SO MUCH FUN! I'm tired and sore beyond belief right now, but the fact is I LOVED IT! I want to dance until I drop off the edge of the planet!!! This is just the beginning, a preview of post-hip replacement life that is now possible due to God and recovery!

f) Best of all--my favorite part of the day and night is spent in prayer and meditation. I realize now what I have been missing in my relationship with the Almighty. Ya' Baha'u'l Abha'!

Be back after a brief respite

2008-08-02T13:17:00.000-07:00

Due to a disputes with AT&T over cell phone charges that were part of a service "package", I no longer have DSL service. Serious bummer. I signed up with a very cheap (under $10) dial-up service, but since I've run into technical difficulties reconnecting the phone line and in the process, knocking my monitor into a blank screen, I won't be online until someone bails me out of this mess. I'm using a computer at the community room of my parent's apartment complex right now. But I'm going to be calling every tekkie I know to get back on line. In the meantime, stay tuned, y'all. "I'll be back."

What should we do when we are faced with a Baha’i law or teaching that we do not understand?

2008-07-07T14:20:00.001-07:00

I really liked this article, and I want to thank Philipe for posting a link to this blog on his site. Please click on the link to this blog. It ties in with what I was talking about in my previous blog, albeit a bit indirectly. There are a lot of difficult questions in life, and while I have found answers to some, others remain beyond my ability to comprehend. That's way it is--an never-ending search. I began the search as child, and while I can't say that I've found the definitive answers to life's perplexities, I believe that I have developed a relationship with the Eternal Source that will provide me with the answers I seek when I am ready for them. Only God knows when I am ready. I certainly don't.

I would also like to invite any Baha'i reading this blog to post a story detailing why they made the decision to become a Baha'i. I do have a few suggestions (hint,hint) that you could include. No pressure, of course. ;-)

1. When did you become a Baha'i, and what prompted you to declare your belief in Baha'u'llah?

2. What was your religious affiliation growing, and how did that belief system play a part in your decision to declare?

3. How has your life changed as a result of being a Baha'i? Or has it changed at all?

4. What is the biggest challenge you have in your life when it comes to putting the Faith into practice every day?

5. If you have children, is it difficult to teach the Faith to them? Do they object to the teachings because they are don't want to be ostracized by their peers (my kids did that), or do they embrace the Teachings to the best of their ability?

All right, I'm going to do something obnoxious here--I'm going to tag a few Baha'is specifically to answer these questions on their blogs, and I will post links to their stories here--Liz, Philipe, Barney, Malik, SMK, Monday's Child--I'd like to read your stories. Ok? Like I said, no pressure! And please click on the link to the story below!

What should we do when we are faced with a Baha’i law or teaching that we do not understand?

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Why I am a Baha'i

2008-07-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

I'm a base brat; I grew up on Air Force bases all over the US and Southeast Asis. Because my family traveled so much, I was exposed to different people and cultures at a very early age, and I met a lot of people who seemed to be just as kind, patient and loving as Christians. In fact, many of them were even more kind and patient than the Christians I knew. I couldn't and wouldn't believe that God would condemn them to an everlasting fiery hell just because they were not Baptists, or Methodists, or Pentecostal or...whatever. And besides, why are there so many denominations of Christianity in the first place, with each one claiming to have the number one direct pipeline to God? Which one is "right"? I was bothered by these questions at a young ag4e, even as early as seven or eight years old. In fact, at five I was frightened by the concept of God burning people who did not accept Christ as their personal savior, and I would cry at night for the poor souls who were caught in the lake of fire. Isn't that a horrific image to plant in the mind of a child? I remember praying very fervently on my knees every night for the "sinners" who needed to be saved. I didn't want anyone to burn in hell.

My parents definitely have their faults, but one thing they did right was emphasize education and the need to discover the truth by gathering as much information as possible. The best weapon against religious programming is the ability to read well and think critically, and that's what Mary and Richard did for their three children. By the time I was eleven, I was reading the Bible along with the pastors in the churches my family attended over the years, and interpreting Biblical verses very differently from them. I saw a very different story than what they were reading and "translating" to the congregation in the Gospel or the Old Testament, and I wasn't buying their version of God's Word. But pastors are considered the ultimate authority on Biblical interpretation, and without their knowledge, a lowly parishioner can't possibly understand how to be "saved" and go to heaven. Certainly a young girl like me couldn't have understood what God has written in His Holy Book. Unfortunately, my parents taught me to question about everything in life except their parental authority, which they considered to be absolute. But a preacher was fair game. So I went for it. Compared to Richard and Mary, a preacher was a flyweight.

I learned the hard way what happens to people who ask too many questions in church. Social isolation is an effective tool to silence young, enthusiastic truth-seekers. I went to church to church asking questions, often without my family. I had to know what God REALLY said, and what He MEANT by those words in the Bible. My questions were argued down, or I was completely ignored. After a while, people wouldn't sit next to me in the pews, as if I had some communicable disease. I didn't know what the word heretic meant back then, but I'm sure people called me that. Yet, I never gave up the search. I became discouraged, and very hurt by the way I was treated. But I kept searching.

The 70s made it easy to investigate Hinduism and Buddhism, so I started reading about those religions. I guess I was one of those people who was influenced by the Beatles in that way. Then my parents bought "The Autobiography of Malcolm X", and as a result, I started reading about Islam. That did for me. There was a puzzle, and some of the pieces were missing. All of those religions had a lot in common with each other, namely, they all said, love God, love your neighbor and love yourself. That's what I got out of reading those books. Since they all have the same basic spiritual message, why did all those religions fight each other for dominance over peoples' hearts and minds? Is there one God for the Jews, another for the Christians, another for Buddhists and the others? Does God split Himself up like that? Or is it possible that there is only one God for all mankind, and religious people have twisted His message over the years? In my heart, I believed there is only one God, but I didn't know how to prove it. That feeling was just a theory, and I had no text for evidence.

I first heard about the Baha'i Faith during a radio program that I was listening to with my ex-husband one evening. Clarissa was about eight months old, and I was pregnant with Marc. We didn't have a TV (we were broke and living an impoverished neighborhood), so we listened to the radio a lot. The late, great jazz trumpeter, Dizzy Gillespie, was on a talk show with three other people, and the topic was morals and beliefs. When Dizzy started talking about being a Baha'i, I really tuned in. He was talking about things that I had always suspected were true, but I couldn't prove--that there is only one God, and God reveals the mysteries of His Being when mankind as whole is mature enough to understand His message. God does this through human Manifestations of His Essence, and there have been nine of them, beginning with Adam--Abraham, the genetic father of all of the Manifestations, Krishna, Buddha, Moses, Zoroaster (not well known in the West, but the three Wise Men who first recognized Jesus as the next Messiah were all Zoroastrians), Jesus, Muhammad, and the two Manifestations of the new era of mankind, the Ba'b (meaning the Gate) and Baha'u'llah, known as the Glory of God. All of this made perfect sense to me. I was excited, but it took me five years to meet any Baha'is.

I declared my belief in Baha'u'llah in 1986, during first night I ever attended a fireside, which is an informative and very casual gathering of both non-Baha'is and Baha'is coming together to talk about the Baha'i Faith specifically, and religion/spirituality in general. It was a turning point in my life. The fireside started at six pm with a huge potluck dinner, and it didn't end until six the next morning as we finally wound down the discussion. I asked question after question after question, and no one seemed to be bothered by it. In fact, the Baha'is welcomed my questions enthusiastically, and they would refer to different religious texts to help me make the connections and see how these weren't separate religions that worship different gods, but One Religion revealed at different times throughout history that told the eternal story of God's love for humanity. I was with my ex-husband and three children, and the couple that hosted the fireside pulled out sleeping cots for the kids, and we kept talking while they slept. By the time we woke the kids up the next morning to go home, both of their parents were Baha'is.

I don't know if my ex is still a Baha'i, but it doesn't matter. We have the precious gift of free will, and we can choose to believe or not. I've always believed in God, but I just couldn't get with the nonsensical, condemning traditional message that some of the Christian clergy ladle out to their congregations every Sunday morning. God is present in my life every nanosecond, and I'm at my best when I remember that.

Whenever I forget, food becomes tempting and I become anxious, doubting, and afraid of everything and everyone. I draw strength by asking God to guide toward the right actions to take each day, or more specifically, submitting to His Will for me in life, instead of trying to ram my way through on my own unsteady will power. I've tried doing life on just my own willpower, and I've had mixed results. Where I've failed most miserably is with my health, obviously. But I've learned, and continue to learn that God has a very different path for me, and all I have to do is make the choice each day--to either put addictive and excess food in my mouth, or to eat healthy food in measured amounts. I'm learning, however imperfectly, to use the tools that give my life the structure that I've never had before. I believe that if I hadn't made the decision years ago to search for a truth about God that makes sense to me, I might not be a Baha'i or recovering from food addiction. I'd be another one of those huge women people often see in Baptist churches, squeezing into the pews every Sunday morning and eating a whole fried chicken with a bucket of mashed potatoes, gravy, corn bread and collard greens after the service. I was at that point, actually. And eventually, hypertension, diabetes, chronic heart disease, goiters and a host of other obesity related diseases would have killed me by now.

To me, the meaning of salvation is learning to open up to the life-saving guidance God provides when I seek it out, and abiding by that guidance. I don't always do it as much as I think I should, and I feel horribly guilty when I fall back into old destructive thoughts and actions. This much I am certain--I know when I am abiding by God's will for my life because I feel comforted, safe and serene. By changing my thoughts and actions to reflect more of my inner communication and guidance from God, I'm getting to be more present and available to do service, as both a Baha'i and a recovering person, for others. Being "saved" doesn't mean I get an automatic pass to heaven by merely professing a belief. It's living the life God intends for me, thus saving me from a certain and early death by my own hands. That's my take on what it means to be a Baha'i, and to be saved.

Nobel Peace Prize winners speak up for Iranian Baha’i leaders

2008-06-30T17:33:00.001-07:00

Nobel Peace Prize winners speak up for Iranian Baha’i leaders

Posted using ShareThis

I'm posting this as a follow up to my previous blog on the persecution of Iranian Baha'i leaders. I'm grateful to Barney Leith to posting this story on his blog so the news won't get buried under a dogpile of celebrity hyperbole. Keep it going, folks, the world needs to know what's really going on while the certain Western leaders remain clueless about the realities of life in the Middle East, and why their policies seem to be failing.

I could say oh-so-much-more. But I won't. I am a Baha'i. That's all that matters.

The Persecutions of Baha'is

2008-06-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

This illustration, depicting the death of an early Bahá'í, appeared in the Persian magazine, Ima'mat, circa 1911.
God bless Ms. Hakakian for speaking up against the continued persecution of Iranian Baha'is. As I am writing this, the fate of six prominent Baha'is arrested by the Iranian government is unknown. Those of us who live in other parts of the world continue to blog in protest of those actions. If the past is any indication of what could or may have already happened to them, I fear the worst.

At a recent meeting with fellow Baha'is, I commented that the Iranian government and fanatical religious leaders will not stop systematically persecuting Baha'is in that country until every one of them is either forced to recant their Faith, or killed. Most will be killed, as we are all instructed to never recant our Faith in Bah'u'llah as the Divine Messenger for this new day of mankind.

But one friend quietly remarked, "They won't stop until we are all dead."

I turned to look at him, stunned. "ALL of us? Even Baha'is living here in the US?"

He never even blinked. "All of us."

If you would like to have more information about the persecutions of Baha'is in Iran, please copy and paste the following URL into your browser (I'm still web blog challenged in terms of making links live):

http://info.bahai.org/persecution_iran.html

Here's an excerpt from that site:

The 300,000-member Bahá'í community is the largest religious minority in that country, and Bahá'ís have been oppressed solely because of religious intolerance. Islamic leaders in Iran and elsewhere have long viewed the Bahá'í Faith as a threat to Islam and have branded the Bahá'ís as heretics. The progressive stands of the Faith on women's rights, independent investigation of truth, and education have particularly rankled Muslim clerics.

In June 1983, for example, the Iranian authorities arrested ten Bahá'í women and girls. The charge against them: teaching children's classes on the Bahá'í Faith -- the equivalent of Sunday school in the West.

The women were subjected to intense physical and mental abuse in an effort to coerce them to recant their Faith -- an option that is always pressed on Bahá'í prisoners. Yet, like most Bahá'ís who have been arrested in Iran, they refused to deny their beliefs. As a result, they were executed.

Mr. Rúhullah Rawhani, 52, was summarily executed by Iranian authorities on July 21, 1998. He was killed solely because of his religious beliefs.

This is Ms. Hakakian's article:

Then They Came for the Bahai
Opinion
By Roya Hakakian
Thu. Jun 19, 2008

If one must master the knowledge that even bigotry is relative and comes in gradations, then I was a premature pupil. I learned this lesson when I was only 10.

In 1977, in an eclectic neighborhood in Tehran, my Jewish family lived on a narrow, wooded alley in what was then an upscale area, alongside two other Jewish families and many more Muslims. There was also a Bahai family, the Alavis, next door.

By then, I had already intuited that my relatives, in the presence of Muslim friends and neighbors, were somehow less flamboyant creatures, quieter and more measured. But the Alavis, debonair and highly educated, were mere ghosts.

Theirs was a corner house on the alley, one of the most beautiful in the neighborhood, and the first to be sold within days in 1979, after the return of the exiled Ayatollah Khomeini. In a neighborhood so closely-knit that even the mailman dispensed pearls of pedagogical wisdom to our parents, the Alavis simply vanished one day.

No chance for tears, or promises to keep in touch. Not even a forwarding address. My mother insists they said goodbye to her, but my mother considers inventing happy endings a maternal virtue.

American audiences, their eyes brimming with anxiety, often ask me about the condition of Jews living in Iran today. But the hardships they assume to be the burden of the Iranian Jews is really the daily experience of the Bahais.

In a 1979 meeting with five of the Iranian Jewish community leaders, Khomeini summarized his position on the local Jews in one of his quintessentially coarse one-liners: “We recognize our Jews as separate from those godless Zionists.” The line has served as the regime’s position on the Jewish minority ever since. So important were these words that they were painted on the walls of nearly every synagogue and Jewish establishment the day after the ayatollah spoke them.

It did not prevent Jews from being relegated to second-class citizenry, nor did it enable them to thrive in post-revolutionary Iran. But it recognized the legitimacy of the Jewish existence in Iran and allowed the community to live on, albeit extremely restrictedly.

But it is the Bahai community that has been suffering the bleak fate assumed to be that of the Jews. It is the Bahais who are not recognized by the Iranian constitution. Decades ago, Khomeini branded them, among other unsavory terms, a political sect and not a religion, circuitously defining them as plotters against the regime. Iranian Bahais have been accused of espionage for every major power save the Chinese, and simultaneously so. They are not allowed to worship. Their properties are vandalized. Even their dead know no peace, as their cemeteries are systematically destroyed.

Their children cannot attend schools, nor can Bahai academics teach. That is why in 1987, unemployed professors, in an act reminiscent of the Middle Ages, established underground universities to educate the Bahai youth.

Last month, six Bahai leaders were arrested. They had already been accustomed to routine weekly harassments and interrogations, which is why some of their wives have taken up sewing blindfolds to keep the guards from forcing dirty ones onto their husbands’ eyes. What is most alarming about this particular arrest is that they have not returned home and are being kept incommunicado.

What compels me to write these lines is the eerie similarity between this and another historical parallel to which I have been a witness. When the American embassy was seized in Tehran in November 1979, the world took the ayatollah at his word for the egregious act he vehemently supported — that it was solely against America. But for those living in Iran, the hostage taking turned out to be about everything but America.

Newspapers were shut down. Political parties were banned. Opposition group members were arrested and their leaders hauled off to stand before firing squads.

When it was all said and done, the hostages, despite their great suffering during 444 days of captivity, eventually returned home. But the secular opposition of the regime was practically obliterated, and in perfect silence, too, as all attention was focused on the news from the embassy.

The current Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has taken a page from Khomeini’s book. He rails against Israel. He denies the Holocaust. Through these means he focuses all attention on Jews, and while the world remains perfectly oblivious his men assault the Bahais.

Though Ahmadinejad’s intentions against Israel are gravely alarming, in immediate terms, the community that is paying the most for his pan-Islamist ambitions is the Bahai. Since Ahmadinejad’s election to presidency, there has been a sharp rise in anti-Bahai literature in government-sponsored journals, which has, in turn, led to a rise in gang attacks against the community.

That the Bahais shy away, per religious mandate, from advocacy on their own behalf surrounds their predicament with even greater silence. But for those in the West — especially for Jews, who know the lessons of World War II — the plight of the Iranian Bahais is most urgent: It is an act of destruction, not simply promised, but already underway.

Roya Hakakian, the author of “Journey from the Land of No: A Girlhood Caught in Revolutionary Iran” (Crown, 2004), is a recipient of a 2008 Guggenheim fellowship.

Still here...sort of...

2008-06-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

Well folks, the health issues continue to be a PITA (pain in the asinine). The two current bugaboos are chronic fatigue and kidney stones. I am doing a sleep study for the former, which involves several activities including monitoring my oxygen levels while sleeping, over a two month period. I sleep upright because of my bad hip and lower back, which helps my breathing somewhat. My kids claim I have stopped snoring since I started sleeping that way. However, I still wake up several times a night, and I have never felt totally rested, even after eight hours of sleep. Lately, I've been taking four hour naps in addition to sleeping at night. This is obviously a problem that needs to be addressed, hence the sleep study.

The second issue was passed quite painfully in the emergency room of Kaiser Hospital. I said it once, and I'll say it again--in times of physical duress, I thank God for morphine and the man or woman who developed it for occasions of ghastly pain. Please don't try to pass a kidney stone all by your lonesome. It is neither heroic nor fun.

The great, no, fantastic news is that in spite everything that's been happening to me, the weight loss continues. I'm still working the program with the grace of God. It certainly isn't my doing. I've always wanted to lose weight, but I couldn't do it on my own. I've tried, over and over again. Addicts need help overcoming their addictions, no matter what the drug of choice happens to be. Mine is food, and left alone, I would have eaten myself into an early grave.

The first day of every month is "weigh day". I'm looking forward to getting on the scale next Tuesday. I couldn't say that in the past. The scale has been my prime nemesis all of my life, followed closely by any medical professional who lectured me about the health consequences of obesity. I have made bonds of friendships between myself, my bathroom scale and my doctors. We aren't going out for coffee or anything, but I'm not muttering cuss words under my breath about them these days, either.

Switching topics, please read the following very excellent article written by one of my favorite bloggers, Phillipe Copeland of Baha'i Thought. He is talking about the violent unrest in South Africa, which is a subject that never fails to bring tears and a tremendous amount of pain to my heart. Why should I care so deeply about the land of my ancestors? Well, for one, it is the land of my ancestors, one that has been raped, pillaged, decimated and exploited for centuries. People constantly point the fingers of blame at each other as the cause of civil war, genocide and economic difficulties in the entire continent, but while those in power continue to play politics and greed as usual, people are dying of starvation, dehydration, various diseases such as AIDS and other treatable chronic illnesses, and become ever-rising statistics in the on=going civil wars throughout the continent. "Makes you wanna holler; throw up both my hands," Marvin Gaye sang. It certainly does that to me. But I'm not giving up, either. I will continue to pray for the Motherland, and if God sees fit for me to be of greater service to the Motherland, I will do so without hesitation.

Here's Brother Phillipe's article:

Like the outbreaks of violence following the disputed elections in Kenya, I've been watching the news of attacks on foreigners by roving mobs in South Africa recently with alarm and sadness. While the context is different in the United States it made me wonder when the frustrations related to immigration in my own country (illegal and otherwise) might boil over into acts of violence. It reminded me of a statement made in The Promise of World Peace, a document commissioned by the Universal House of Justice in the mid-80's and distributed to world leaders around the globe:

"The inordinate disparity between rich and poor, a source of acute suffering, keeps the world in a state of instability, virtually on the brink of war. Few societies have dealt effectively with this situation. The solution calls for the combined application of spiritual, moral and practical approaches. A fresh look at the problem is required, entailing consultation with experts from a wide spectrum of disciplines, devoid of economic and ideological polemics, and involving the people directly affected in the decisions that must urgently be made. It is an issue that is bound up not only with the necessity for eliminating extremes of wealth and poverty but also with those spiritual verities the understanding of which can produce a new universal attitude. Fostering such an attitude is itself a major part of the solution."
(The Universal House of Justice, 1985 Oct, The Promise of World Peace, p. 3)

When human beings see themselves as competing for scarce resources, it can bring out the worst in them. I think that it was Bob Marley who said in one of his songs that "A hungry man is an angry man." Poverty is the enemy of stability in any society and the recent crisis in South Africa at the very least is a dramatization of that fact. Eliminating extremes of wealth and poverty is a central part of the social mission of the Baha'i Faith. A recent statement from the Baha'i International Community had this to say about poverty:

"It is now increasingly acknowledged that such conditions as the marginalization of girls and women, poor governance, ethnic and religious antipathy, environmental degradation and unemployment constitute formidable obstacles to the progress and development of communities. These evidence a deeper crisis—one rooted in the values and attitudes that shape relationships at all levels of society. Viewed from this perspective, poverty can be described as the absence of those ethical, social and material resources needed to develop the moral, intellectual and social capacities of individuals, communities and institutions. Moral reasoning, group decision-making and freedom from racism, for example, are all essential tools for poverty alleviation. Such capacities must shape individual thinking as well as institutional arrangements and policy-making. To be clear, the goal at hand is not only to remove the ills of poverty but to engage the masses of humanity in the construction of a just global order." Read the entire statement here.

I'll close with these words of Baha'u'llah, Founder of the Baha'i Faith:

"O CHILDREN OF DUST!
Tell the rich of the midnight sighing of the poor, lest heedlessness lead them into the path of destruction, and deprive them of the Tree of Wealth. To give and to be generous are attributes of Mine; well is it with him that adorneth himself with My virtues."
(Baha'u'llah, The Persian Hidden Words)

Posted by Phillipe Copeland at 10:25 AM

Relapse after weight loss surgery

2008-06-11T20:12:00.000-07:00

Folks need to leave Ms. Carnie alone!!!

Apparently, people have been buzzing about how Carnie Wilson re-gained a lot of weight after losing 150 pounds as the result of Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery. Actually, this is probably old news to most people, but I rarely see celebrity gossip. It's not exactly my favorite thing to do--keep up with the comings and goings of the rich and famous. I have entirely too much to do in my own life, mainly, trying to save it. And I mean that quite literally. But I do read web articles about morbid obesity quite regularly, and this one caught my attention. I have to take you back several years to explain why.

I remember going to an Indian food restaurant for my so-called "last meal" (what a joke) with my sister, my son Marc and my daughter Chenelle. While everyone was laughing and talking during dinner, my thoughts would wander off to the future that I thought I would have. For the very first time in my life, I was going to be thin. It was like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and my own personal genie all wrapped in one huge gift. To be thin--finally! I was standing on the verge of a brand new life, one that I could have never imagined only six months ago. Prior to that night, I was on the "fast track" to gastric bypass--I went through orientation, the requisite classes and the 10% weight loss that Kaiser Permanente requires of all prospective gastric bypass patients. I ate 100% low fat vegan meals and did the best I could with walking for the exercise requirement. Eating a vegan diet wasn't very hard because in my mind, it was only temporary. After July 11, 2002, I was never going to diet or go vegan again. I would be able to eat "normally", meaning whatever I wanted to eat, only in tiny portions because of the pouch. And I would never have to suffer through those intolerable hunger spasms that I got when I was on a diet. What a sweet life...I would weigh 130 pounds, and still eat pizza, macaroni and cheese and red velvet cake. Or Ben and Jerry's Ice cream with mix-ins. Or garlic French fries. And it would be possible because I would only eat a teeny-weeny bite or two, and be satisfied. I couldn't wait to have the surgery. It was going to literally be an answer to all of my "Please God, make me thin..." prayers.

Fast forward to 2003. I had been through hell. I have talked about what happened to me after weight loss surgery in a previous blog (My Story). I don't want to go through that pitiful story again, but I'll just say that I spent most of 2003 and 2004 on the couch in my sister's living room, staring vacantly out of the window or at soap operas. I was too weak and sick to even think. Sure I had lost a lot of weight, 140 pounds had come off in six months, along with huge patches of my hair. I was severely anemic, in constant pain, and unable to stand for longer than thirty seconds. Day ran into night, and night ran into day while I sat on the couch. This was NOT the future I had visualized for myself.

I was diagnosed with major clinical depression, among the myriad of extenuating health issues that I had, none of which were complications related to gastric bypass surgery. Everything that was happening to my body had been going wrong for years before I even thought about having gastric bypass. Those problems were surfacing with a vengeance, and with them, the cravings for food that I was warned to avoid like the plague. But I didn't care. I felt like crap, and I was tired of feeling that way. I wanted solace. I wanted pleasure. I wanted my food, the food I had been missing ever since I passed the three month post-op period. By late 2003, I was eating bread and pasta.

I celebrated the New Year in 2004 with several bags of Hershey's and Mars Miniatures and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I didn't even make it to midnight--I passed out on the couch around 9:30 from sugar "dumping", which is a mixture of nausea, dizziness and a sudden rush of body heat. It is not pleasant. But still, I didn't care. After everything I had gone through, my addict brain rationalized, at least I had a few moments of ecstasy with dozens of little Snicker's bars, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Hershey's Kisses.

It was a swift downhill drop from there. No matter how sick I felt, or how much the French bread or pasta made me throw up, I continued to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. My pouch stretched, the repaired hernia tore open, and I began packing on the pounds again. My highest weight in relapse was 306 pounds, according to my medical records. The only sense of relief and gratitude that I have about the relapse is that I didn't inch back up the scale to 365+ pounds. That could have very easily happened, if I wasn't a Baha'i and didn't believe that God power, grace and mercy was greater than my addiction, and in order to recover from such a potent disease of the mind, body and spirit, I would have to call on His Healing Mercy. I did that, and that led me to the recovery program that is currently working miracles in my life right now.

But why did I go back to the food, after a lifetime of obesity and chronic health problems. I don't have an answer for that. I can only quote a group of old alcoholics, who came together and prayed for God to heal them from the ravages of drunkenness. Their prayers were answered, and Alcoholics Anonymous, otherwise known as AA, was created. Here's what those old drunks have to say about not only alcoholism, but every single hardcore, life-draining addiction that robs people of their dignity, occupations, income, health and family relations:

(I am taking the liberty of substituting food for alcohol and food addiction for alcoholism so that the similarities between the two afflictions are obvious.)

We doctors have realized for a long time that some form of moral psychology was of urgent importance to food addicts, but its application presented difficulties beyond our conception. What with our ultra-modern standards, our scientific approach to everything, we are perhaps not well equipped to apply the powers of good that lie outside our synthetic knowledge.

Many years ago one of the leading contributors to this book came under our care in this hospital and while here he acquired some ideas which he put into practical application at once.

Later, he requested the privilege of being allowed to tell his story to other patients here and with some misgiving, we consented. The cases we have followed through have been most interesting; in fact, many of them are amazing. The unselfishness of these men as we have come to know them, the entire absence of profit motive, and their community spirit, is indeed inspiring to one who has labored long and wearily in this addiction field. They believe in themselves, and still more in the Power which pulls chronic food addicts back from the gates of death.

Of course a morbidly obese food addict ought to be freed from his physical craving for flour, sugar and excess portions of food, and this often requires a definite hospital procedure, before psychological measures can be of maximum benefit.

We believe, and so suggested a few years ago, that the action of certain food on these chronic food addicts is a manifestation of an allergy; that the phenomenon of craving is limited to this class and never occurs in the average eater. These allergic types can never safely use flour or sugar products in any form at all; and once having formed the habit and found they cannot break it, once having lost their self-confidence, their reliance upon things human, their problems pile up on them and become astonishingly difficult to solve.

Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these alcoholic people must have depth and weight. In nearly all cases, their ideals must be grounded in a power greater than themselves, if they are to re-create their lives....

....Men and women eat addictively essentially because they like the effect produced by flour and sugar products along with excessive portions of food. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, their food-addicted life seems the only normal one. They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few bites—bites which they see others taking with impunity. After they have succumbed to the desire again, as so many do, and the phenomenon of craving develops, they pass through the well-known stages of a spree, emerging remorseful, with a firm resolution not to eat like that again. This is repeated over and over, and unless this person can experience an entire psychic change there is very little hope of his recovery.

On the other hand—and strange as this may seem to those who do not understand—once a psychic change has occurred, the very same person who seemed doomed, who had so many problems he despaired of ever solving them, suddenly finds himself easily able to control his desire for flour, sugar and excess portions, the only effort necessary being that required to follow a few simple rules.

Men have cried out to me in sincere and despairing appeal: “Doctor, I cannot go on like this! I have everything to live for! I must stop, but I cannot! You must help me!’’

Faced with this problem, if a doctor is honest with himself, he must sometimes feel his own inadequacy. Although he gives all that is in him, it often is not enough. One feels that something more than human power is needed to produce the essential psychic change. Though the aggregate of recoveries resulting from psychiatric effort is considerable, we physicians must admit we have made little impression upon the problem as a whole. Many types do not respond to the ordinary psychological approach.

I do not hold with those who believe that food addiction is entirely a problem of mental control. I have had many men who had, for example, worked a period of months on some problem or business deal which was to be settled on a certain date, favorably to them. They ate a few donuts or had some pizza a day or so prior to the date, and then the phenomenon of craving at once became paramount to all other interests so that the important appointment was not met. These men were not overeating to escape; they were eating excessively to overcome a craving beyond their mental control.

There are many situations which arise out of the phenomenon of craving which cause men to make the supreme sacrifice rather than continue to fight.

The classification of food addicts seems most difficult, and in much detail is outside the scope of this book. There are, of course, the psychopaths who are emotionally unstable. We are all familiar with this type. They are always “going on a diet to lose weight for keeps.’’ They are over-remorseful and make many resolutions, but never a decision.

From "The Doctor's Opinion" by William D. Silkworth, M.D.
http://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org/bigbookonline/en_doctoropinion.cfm

Dr. Silkworth has very accurately described what happens to me when I eat things like Nestle's Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies, triple chocolate 911 cake, deep dish pizza or chili cheese fries. I can't stop. I won't stop. A Power outside of myself, much Greater than me, has to intervene and stop me. But I have to sincerely ask for the help, every day and every night. That Divine Assistance is always granted, and I am both humbled and grateful. The 70 pounds that I re-gained through relapse is now gone. But I don't ever take this malady for granted. It's beat me down way too many times. I now have established routines that I follow each day to ensure that the beast that resides in my brain is kept at bay in chains. One tiny lapse of attention, however, and the beast will slip out of its fetters and attack with unmitigated vengeance. I know this will happen. It has already, on several very instructive occasions.

I don't know if Ms. Carnie Wilson is a food addict like me. I suspect that she is, but I can't say for sure. I can only attest to my own powerlessness over addictive foods. But if she is like me, God help her. She will definitely need it. And other people need to leave her alone. This battle is tough enough without the mocking chorus sitting in the peanut galley.

I love being a Mom and a Nana!

2008-05-31T16:48:00.001-07:00

May 15th was my daughter Clarissa's 27th birthday, and we had a dinner and a movie night at my house. My daughters told me that they wanted to start eating healthier the way I am now. In fact, they said that they wouldn't have minded eating the food that I have every day. Now they tell me! LOL! Anyway, I can't believe that the years have gone by so fast. Weren't they in elementary school just the other day? Or middle school? All three of my kids became adults overnight! And what adults they are--they are each following their own paths in life, doing what really reaches their hearts and souls. Well...according to my youngest daughter, Chenelle my son Marc has apparently become a bonafide "chick magnet" out there in Boston these days...no more shy guy!

And being a Nana...it's even better than having your own children! My grandson Xavier is just an incredible bounty of joy for me. I love him beyond what can be thought of as the usual grandmother love and attention. Whenever I see him, I become convinced that all the things going on in the world right now are meaningless, compared to my grandson's beautiful smile and laughter. Clarissa called me yesterday and said that Xavier walked all the way across the living room. That's Nana's little man!

And finally, Chenelle sent me the following bulletin from her myspace page:

New and improved music by your favorite artist of all time: Tamarind Candy(Chenelle and Marc playing together.) Aren't you excited about this?!?!?! If you haven't already added this artist you must do so at...http://www. myspace. com/tamarindcandy .
It'll give you so very much street cred. For reals.

Please check out her website! I don't always understand the music, but I love it anyway! As I love all of my kids!

Baha'i music - Eric Dozier Choir

2008-05-29T13:21:00.001-07:00

God is good! All the time! This is how I commemorated the Ascension of Baha'u'llah, with prayers, incense, candles and music! Praise Him! Ya Baha'ul'Abha'!

The Ascension of Baha'u'llah

2008-05-28T12:43:00.000-07:00

The Shrine of Baha’u’llah with the Mansion of Bahji,
where Baha’u’llah died in 1892, in the background.

Tonight, I will go to bed at 7 pm. Tomorrow morning, at midnight, I will wake up, take a shower, get dressed, make some tea, light some candles and incense, and wait for 3 am, the exact time that I am to commemorate the Ascension of Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i. Others may join me, but due to living in an era when work and family obligations make observing Baha'i holy days difficult, I might be the only one here. That's all right. My home is open to whoever can be here, and if they can't, I know they are doing what I am doing. They are saying prayers for the healing of humanity, which is what the Baha'i Faith, in my opinion, is all about. This is my eternal life, the part of living that makes everything I'm doing in this physical realm, and later on in the spiritual realm, possible. I fully believe that Baha'u'llah is the Divine Educator for mankind in this new day, and that profound global and spiritual change for the better, however unnoticed it might be by the vast majority of Earth's people, is happening. I am a Baha'i.

The room at the Shrine of Baha'u'llah, where He passed away.

May 25, 2007 - 9:09pm (http://www.bahai.us/ascension-of-bahaullah)
May 29 marks the anniversary of the Ascension of Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i Faith. The day is one of nine holy days on which Baha'is suspend work and school.

Baha’u’llah died after a brief illness in 1892 in the mansion of Bahji outside Akka, in what is now northern Israel. After spending most of His life in exile, He was able to live his later years at Bahji in relative tranquility. He was buried in a small stone house adjacent to the mansion. This Shrine is the holiest place on earth for Baha’is, the place toward which they turn in prayer each day.

Six days before His death, Baha’u’llah gathered his followers and family members and delivered what would be His last address to them:

"I am well pleased with you all. Ye have rendered many services, and been very assiduous in your labors. Ye have come here every morning and every evening. May God assist you to remain united. May He aid you to exalt the Cause of the Lord of being."

For a week after Baha’u’llah’s death, writes Shoghi Effendi, “a vast number of mourners, rich and poor alike, tarried to grieve with the bereaved family. . . Notables, among whom were numbered Shí'ahs, Sunnis, Christians, Jews and Druzes, as well as poets, ulamas and government officials, all joined in lamenting the loss. . .”

About a year prior to His passing, Baha’u’llah revealed His Will and Testament, which named His eldest son, Abdu’l-Baha, as His successor.

In 1992, on the centenary of Baha’u’llah’s passing, several thousand Baha’is from more than 200 countries gathered to pay homage to Him at His shrine outside Bahji. The following November, approximately 27,000 followers assembled in New York City to celebrate the anniversary of the inauguration of Baha’u’llah’s Covenant, which has preserved the unity of the Baha'i Faith since its inception

Baha'u'llah's ministry came to an end in 1892. He left to humanity a priceless heritage of spiritual and social teachings, which He claimed would lead humanity to true and abiding peace. He endured decades of suffering to accomplish this mission. As he says In His own words:

"The Ancient Beauty hath consented to be bound with chains that mankind may be released from its bondage, and hath accepted to be made a prisoner within this most mighty Stronghold that the whole world may attain unto true liberty. He hath drained to its dregs the cup of sorrow, that all the peoples of the earth may attain unto abiding joy, and be filled with gladness. This is of the mercy of your Lord, the Compassionate, the Most Merciful. We have accepted to be abased, O believers in the Unity of God, that ye may be exalted, and have suffered manifold afflictions, that ye might prosper and flourish.

He Who hath come to build anew the whole world, behold, how they that have joined partners with God have forced Him to dwell within the most desolate of cities!"

This quiz may save your life

2008-05-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

For more information, copy and paste:
http://www.foodaddicts.org

Are you a food addict?
To answer this question, ask yourself the following questions and answer them as honestly as you can.

1 Have you ever wanted to stop eating and found you just couldn't?
2 Do you think about food or your weight constantly?
3 Do you find yourself attempting one diet or food plan after another, with no lasting success?
4 Do you binge and then "get rid of the binge" through vomiting, exercise, laxatives, or other forms of purging?
5 Do you eat differently in private than you do in front of other people?
6 Has a doctor or family member ever approached you with concern about your eating habits or weight?
7 Do you eat large quantities of food at one time (binge)?
8 Is your weight problem due to your "nibbling" all day long?
9 Do you eat to escape from your feelings?
10 Do you eat when you're not hungry?
11 Have you ever discarded food, only to retrieve and eat it later?
12 Do you eat in secret?
13 Do you fast or severely restrict your food intake?
14 Have you ever stolen other people's food?
15 Have you ever hidden food to make sure you have "enough?"
16 Do you feel driven to exercise excessively to control your weight?
17 Do you obsessively calculate the calories you've burned against the calories you've eaten?
18 Do you frequently feel guilty or ashamed about what you've eaten?
19 Are you waiting for your life to begin "when you lose the weight?"
20 Do you feel hopeless about your relationship with food?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then you may be a food addict. You are not alone. FA offers hope through a real solution to food addiction.

Copyright © 2000-2003 Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous

Here's a few facts about obesity, one of outward symptoms of food addiction that has very deadly consequences:

The UCLA Center for Health Policy Research released the following press release on April 28, 2008. I'm only going to quote a few highlights:

New Study Finds California Neighborhoods "Designed for Disease"
DAVIS, CA -- Californians face an added challenge as they battle expanding waistlines and obesity-related diseases - their address. A landmark study released today shows the state's first direct correlation between where you live and your risk for obesity or diabetes.

The groundbreaking study, Designed for Disease: the Link Between Local Food Environments and Obesity and Diabetes, examines the correlation between the health of nearly 40,000 Californians and the mix of retail food outlets near their homes. The key finding: people living in neighborhoods crowded with fast-food and convenience stores but relatively few grocery or produce outlets are at significantly higher risk of suffering from obesity and diabetes....

To understand the impact of the food landscape on health, CCPHA, PolicyLink and the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research matched the prevalence of obesity and diabetes from the 2005 California Health Interview Survey (CHIS) to nearly 40,000 respondents' Retail Food Environment Index (RFEI) scores. The RFEI is the number of fast-food and convenience stores divided by the number of grocery and produce stores around one's home....

Though low-income communities are often hit hardest by this phenomenon, the health correlation is seen across all geographic regions, income levels and ethnicities. Statewide, the average RFEI of all study participants is 4.5, meaning that they find four times more fast-food and convenience stores than grocery stores and produce vendors when they step out their door. California is home to 14,826 fast-food restaurants and 6,659 convenience stores. By contrast, the state has 3,853 grocery stores and 1,292 produce stands (including farmers' markets). This disproportionate access to less nutritious foods is, according to the study's authors, especially alarming in light of the growing obesity and diabetes epidemics, which cost California $6 billion and $18 billion per year, respectively.

Counties where survey respondents had on average more than five times the number of unhealthy retail food options as healthy options include San Bernardino (5.60), Stanislaus (5.48), Kern (5.23), Solano (5.11) and Fresno (5.01). All of these counties have higher rates of obesity and diabetes than counties with average RFEIs below three. In fact, Marin and Santa Cruz Counties, which had the lowest RFEI scores (2.06 and 2.24, respectively), had both the lowest obesity and diabetes prevalence in the state....

"Whether we realize it or not, we are affected by the food choices around us," said Dr. Harold Goldstein of the California Center for Public Health Advocacy (CCPHA), one of the study's authors. "Maybe it's time to consider adding the fast-food joints and convenience stores around every corner to the Environmental Protection Agency's list of known environmental toxins. This study suggests that they may quite literally be making us sick."

Thanks to the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research for providing this information. My hope is that the policy-makers pay attention to the results! If you would like more about the Center for Health Policy Research, copy and paste the following URL:

http://www.healthpolicy.ucla.edu

And now that we've taken inventory of our eating/binge/purge proclivities, let's take a snapshot look at the percentage of people who are overweight or obese living in certain California counties. The selection process is mine, based on my criteria, which unfortunately eliminated most of the lesser known and sparsely populated places of the state. I wanted to focus on the more urban counties with diverse populations. Trust me, there are a number of counties like Siskiyou, Truckee, and Humboldt that are very un-diverse. That doesn't affect the rate of obesity, however. Economic factors come into play in those counties because many of the income-producing industries(logging, farming, factories, etc.)have closed down or moved on to more profitable operations in other states or countries. Nothing is more miserable than permanently losing a job, and addictive eating loves misery.

I have no idea if any other state or country has done health research studies like this. If you live in another state or country, please let me know if there is any statistics available concerning overweight/obesity rates. It would interesting to do some comparison and think about what drives people to eat in such an unhealthy manner. I know for me it's not a moral/self-control/willpower issue. I have an addiction to food, and the only way I can stop killing myself is to stop the constant hand to mouth motion, ask for Divine guidance and strength, then act as if that question has been answered, one day at a time. But I would like to hear about the results of other overweight/obesity surveys. I wonder how California would fare against Wyoming, or Rhode Island. Is there a state that is fatter than California in the U.S.? I would love to know!

Body Mass Index - 2 level Source: 2005 California Health Interview Survey
http://www.healthsnapshots.org/display_geo.asp?varID=1091
Not overweight or obese Overweight or obese
%Estimate %Estimate
Sacramento (my domicile) and surrounding counties
Sacramento
46.32% 53.68%
(42.7 - 50.0) (50.0 - 57.3)
514,000 596,000

Placer
50.42% 49.58%
(45.1 - 55.7) (44.3 - 54.9)
132,000 129,000

Sutter County
50.88% 49.12%
(44.2 - 57.6) (42.4 - 55.8)
37,000 36,000

Yuba
43.61% 56.39%
(37.3 - 49.9) (50.1 - 62.7)
24,000 31,000

Of course, I had to show San Francisco and surrounding Bay Area counties:

Alameda
55.05% 44.95%
(51.6 - 58.5) (41.5 - 48.4)
681,000 556,000

Contra Costa
45.42% 54.58%
(41.3 - 49.5) (50.5 - 58.7)
386,000 464,000

San Francisco
58.66% 41.34%
(54.3 - 63.0) (37.0 - 45.7)
409,000 288,000

San Mateo
57.52% 42.48%
(52.7 - 62.4) (37.6 - 47.3)
347,000 256,000

Sonoma
48.39% 51.61%
(43.0 - 53.8) (46.2 - 57.0)
192,000 205,000

Solano
45.93% 54.07%
(42.4 - 49.5) (50.5 - 57.6)
153,000 180,000

Marin
59.59% 40.41%
(57.3 - 61.9) (38.1 - 42.7)
123,000 84,000

Napa
49% 51%
(43.4 - 54.6) (45.4 - 56.6)
53,000 55,000

The shocker: Santa Barbara, with all its affluence, trendy gyms, spas and chi-chi restaurants, is pretty evenly divided between overweight/obese folks and the "beautiful" people!

Santa Barbara
50.08% 49.92%
(44.3 - 55.9) (44.1 - 55.7)
166,000 165,000

Lest you think that LA and surrounding counties has a cornucopia of beautifully svelte women and ripped, twelve-pack men running around on the beaches:
Los Angeles
48.55% 51.45%
(47.1 - 50.0) (50.0 - 52.9)
3,969,000 4,206,000

Orange
55.31% 44.69%
(52.6 - 58.1) (41.9 - 47.4)
1,369,000 1,106,000

Going down south isn't much better:

San Diego
50.09% 49.91%
(48.0 - 52.2) (47.8 - 52.0)
1,221,000 1,216,000

And the winner of the "Most Obese County in California Award" goes to:

Imperial
37.54% 62.46%
(32.1 - 43.0) (57.0 - 67.9)
48,000 80,000

ENTIRE STATE OF CALIFORNIA
48.64% 51.36%
(48.0 - 49.3) (50.7 - 52.0)
14,469,000 15,278,000

Over HALF of the population of California is either overweight or obese!

Declaration of the Ba'b

2008-05-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a post that is a bit difficult for me to write about because I have begun to realize just how much my life has been unmanageable for years, and what it means to turn my life over to the care of God. I keep standing in the way, blocking the plentiful blessings of the Almighty, not because I want to, but I have unknowingly been living in chaos and confusion for most of my life. Cleaning it up hasn't been easy because it requires that I develop something that I'm not very good at--humility. And I have to constantly ask for guidance from God and my recovery fellows because when I don't, things literally fall apart. And I thought my only problem was morbid obesity, and all I had to do to fix my life was lose weight! Good grief...that's only the beginning, it seems. Anyway, I hope I'll be able to post about what I've been going through real soon.

One thing I did do right for myself is celebrate the Declaration of the Ba'b with a friend. My lower back and left hip were hurting really bad that evening, and I felt it would be best to stay home, take my medicine and rest a bit. So I called up another Bahai' friend in a different community, and we discussed the miraculous history of Mulla Husayn finding the Ba'b in Shiraz, and that amazing night in which the Ba'b revealed himself as the next Manifestation of the new prophetic cycle. I felt so connected to the Ba'b, the Baha'i Faith and other Bahai's by talking about that with my friend. It was a wonderful Holy Day observance!

Celebrating the Declaration of the Báb, herald of Bahá'u'lláh
May 21, 2008 - 2:57pm

"His life is one of the most magnificent examples of courage which it has been the privilege of mankind to behold,” French writer A.L.M. Nicolas said of the Báb (“gate” in Arabic).

The Báb—born Siyyid `Alí-Muhammad in Shiraz, Persia (now Iran)—announced on May 22, 1844, that He was the bearer of a Divine Revelation which would prepare humanity for the advent of the Promised One of all religions.

Bab
On the evening of May 22, Baha'is throughout the world commemorate the
Declaration of the Bab, which took place in this room (pictured) in the
Persian city of Shiraz in 1844. That Promised One, the Báb declared, was destined to usher in the age of justice, unity and peace promised in Judaism, Christianity, Islam and all the other world religions. Bahá'u'lláh, one of the Báb's leading advocates, announced in April 1863 that He was the Divine Messenger the Báb had promised.

The Báb’s announcement in the middle of the 19th century came at a time when many Christians were expecting the return of Christ based on their reading of Biblical prophecy. Simultaneously, half way around the world, in the Middle East, many followers of Islam were also expecting their Promised One to appear.

It seemed as if a new spiritual age was about to begin.

Those who had met the Báb were struck by the beauty of His being and grace. His voice, particularly, when chanting the tablets and prayers He revealed, possessed a sweetness that captivated the heart.

Against the backdrop of widespread moral breakdown in Persian society, the Báb's assertion that He was the Bringer of a new Revelation from God and His call for spiritual and social renewal aroused both hope and excitement among the masses and hostility among the religious and political leaders of His day.

He quickly attracted thousands of followers.

Soon the Báb and His followers were persecuted by the religious and political leaders. The Bab was imprisoned, exiled, beaten and finally executed. The followers, by the thousands, were tortured and martyred.

Their extraordinary moral courage in the face of persecution was noted by a number of Western observers, such as Leo Tolstoy and Sarah Bernhardt, who were deeply affected by the spiritual drama that was unfolding in what was regarded as a darkened land.

Despite the opposition, the Báb's religion survived. Most of the Báb's followers embraced Bahá'u'lláh's announcement that He was the One promised by the Báb. The religion, known as the Bahá'í Faith after Bahá'u'lláh's declaration, continued to expand although persecutions also continued.

Today, the Bahá'í Faith has more than five million followers from every part of the world, drawn from every class of society and nearly every religion. In the United States, the Bahá'í Faith now has about 160,000 adherents.

Bahá'ís celebrate the anniversary of the Báb’s declaration through prayers and programs where the story of His declaration may be retold. It is one of nine holy days in the Bahá'í calendar when Bahá'ís suspend work or school.

Happy Birthday, Ricky...

2008-05-20T17:50:00.000-07:00

On May 18, 1964, my little brother Richard Sydney Shortt II was born. I don't remember that particular day very well, but I do recall at some point my father drove Tam and I to Sutter Memorial Hospital on 52nd and F streets, and we parked near the fourth floor maternity ward. We got out of the car and looked up as my mother held Ricky up to the hospital window, and Tam and I waved to him. I'm sure Mom was saying things like "See? There's your big sisters down there! Say hi to your sisters; they're going to help take care of you!" As usual for me then and now, I was confused about how I was supposed to be feeling. I got the impression that I was supposed to be happy, but I had learned to be reserved about events that adults seemed to think would make me happy, like birthday parties or Easter egg hunts. All too often, I felt something more akin to discomfort or shyness. But I do remember feeling relieved that I didn't have another sister to deal with. Tam was more than enough for me.

It didn't long for me to realize that for me, having a baby brother equaled happiness. Even as a baby, Ricky was a lot of fun. He was chubby, cuter than cute, a wiggly bundle of constant entertainment. Tam and I weren't allowed to hold him without Mom hovering nearby, but we could do things like give him his pacifier or toys to play with. He would spit the pacifier out at us, and throw the toys at our heads. It was amazing how accurate he was. This delighted and amused us, and our favorite game was to give him something to play with, then duck down under his crib as the object became a projectile. He would squeal and laugh just as much as we did.

That's how family life was with my baby brother Ricky--play time and laughter.

As he grew older, I discovered that he could not only play rough the way I loved to, he would often initiate the wrestling and tag games. He didn't cry like my sister did if I tagged him with just little bit more than a soft tap. Like his sun sign, Taurus the bull, he put his head down and came after me with twice as much speed and energy. We knocked over a lot of lamps and broke more than a few dishes that way. Mom was constantly yelling, "Damn heathens! What do you think this is, some kind of juke joint?"

Back then, we had no idea what a juke joint was, but we would take our play time outdoors before she went supernova. A juke joint, for those who don't know, is a place in the deep South where folks go to drink, smoke, dance, and more often than not, get into fights. From what I saw during our yearly visits to our Southern relatives, it was usually a raggedy little shack with a hand painted sign on the front with deceptive names like the "Kit Cat Club", or "Joe's Dance Hall". As we drove through the various little towns in Mississippi, Georgia Alabama and Florida, Tam, Ricky and I would stare at the down home version of the big city night life from the back seat of the family station wagon. We thought the juke joints, like the ancient, tobacco-spitting, sh*t-talking, corn-liquor drinking men sitting on dining room chairs in front the establishments, were hilarious. Our parents seemed both confused and embarrassed by our laughter.

In fact, laughter was the most constant element in our family life after Ricky was born. There was something magical about his ability to see humor in practically anything; it was an elusive characteristic that brought out the comedy in all of us. This was an invaluable gift. Before Ricky, Tam and I were well-dressed, obedient little dolls, completely silent until one of our parents gave us an order. Ricky upset the order of our home life, and it was like taking a long, deep breath of mountain air after being cooped up in a hot, stuffy car for hours. We needed that tension release.

Even a bad situation was turned into sketch comedy with Ricky. When I was a teenager, it was my job to make sure that all of the chores were done by the time our parents got home from work. Well, I wasn't all that enthusiastic about washing dishes, vacuuming the floors, taking out the trash and getting dinner started anymore than Tam and Ricky. Usually, we come home from school, turn the stereo on loud enough to make the walls shake, eat hot link or tuna fish sandwiches with potato chips, and dance around the house. Then I would keep checking the clock in the kitchen, and when it was five pm, I would make a big show out of getting my siblings to start cleaning up. Usually, they would ignore me or tell me to shut up until 5:30, when we all started scrambling to get the place straightened up and ready for inspection.

One afternoon, I had a premonition of Mom walking coming home from work early, and I started washing the dishes. Ricky was playing Funkadelic's album, "Let's Take It to the Stage" with the bass turned all the way up. Mom had forbidden us from playing the album in her presence because she overheard the lyrics of "Get Off Your Ass and Jam" one day, and threatened to break the record into pieces if we ever played it again.

"Ricky," I called out over the thumping bass line from the kitchen. I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, desperately preparing for our mother's stormy entrance. "Mom's gonna be here any minute; you better turn it down!"

"Man, (he referred to everyone as "man" regardless of gender)just shut up! She won't be here for at least an hour." He continued playing air guitar with a broom and singing way off key.

That's when we heard the boom. Mom had slammed the front door and was stomping down the hall toward the kitchen.

"What do you heathens mean, playing that...didn't I tell you...oh hell no, this has GOT to stop!" My heart sank as she marched over to the stereo, ripped the LP off the turntable and proceeded to break our beloved Funkadelic into vinyl shards.

"Mom, no! Mom, stop, no!" Ricky tried to prevent her from funk-inflamed robo-rage, but she wasn't having it. She broke the shards into tiny pieces as Ricky fell melodramatically to his knees.

"Mom, Mommy please, not Funkadelic! Anything but Funkadelic, Mommy! Give us another chance; we'll clean up the whole house for you!"

"Damn heathens! I told you!" She threw the pieces on the carpet and headed for her bedroom. "And this house BETTER be spotless when I come back out!"

We waited until we heard her slam her bedroom door, then we collapsed on the ground laughing helplessly.

"No you DIDN'T get on your knees and beg her to stop!" I was having trouble breathing because I was laughing so hard.

Mom banged on her bedroom wall furiously. "You kids make my behind hurt; I ain't no damn joke!"

We were crying and choking from laughing. Mom never did understand that her editorial comments from her bedroom just made us crack up even more.

"Man," Ricky said as we picked up pieces of the album, still chuckling over the incident. "You think we can glue it back together?"

I slapped him upside the back of his head. "It's your fault we don't have the album anymore!" He responded with a leg sweep, and I went down, hard, which made him crack up all over again. He started another round of comedy by dodging my attempts to hit him back.

"Oh, no, too slow!" Ricky loved to taunt someone he was bothering, especially when that someone was his oldest sister.

"Y'all better stop," Tam said between giggles. "I hear Mom..."

Too late. She had already run down the hall, through the kitchen and picked up the broom as she entered the den. All three of us ran past her as she whacked us on our butts. It was the usual--she hit us with the straw end of the broom; we ran outside, screaming with laughter, to safety. The neighbors, long accustomed to the Shortt family antics, merely smiled and shook their heads as they looked out their windows.

This, and many other events, is what I want to remember about my life with my baby brother. He would have been 44 years old last Sunday, if he hadn't been drinking enough alcohol to make the fog-blanketed, winding Highway 160 a place where he would drive off a steep bank and land his car approximately 20 feet away from the road. The farmer who owned the land found his comatose and broken body 60 feet away from his car, where he had been ejected through the windshield. Even though it happened 19 years ago, I still feel that sharp, jagged ache in my chest whenever I think about seeing his mangled and bloody body hooked up to a respirator in the emergency room, barely clinging to this realm of life.

Today, however, I would rather remember the jokes, the pranks and the laughter. I miss you, Ricky. I really, really miss you.

Facebook posts

2008-05-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

I wrote this yesterday after reading a news feed from National Public Radio (npr.com). I posted it on Facebook, but since it didn't go through Blogit, it didn't show up here.

Today is my Punkie's (my oldest daughter Clarissa) 27th birthday, and I'm feeling nostalgic. Not for childbirth, mind you. That hurt, tremendously, and I was very tired and sore afterwards. It's amazing that I voluntarily went through that agonizing process two more times before I'd had enough. But anyway, twenty seven years ago I pushed that very red and pissed off 6 pound bundle of dynamite from my womb, and the phenom known as Clarissa Ellen Doutherd came into this world.

Mother and daughter had many trials and lessons to learn from each other. One of them was high school. Clarissa was unwilling to go ("I'm NOT LEARNING anything, Mom!"), and I was tired of the arguments, especially since I could completely empathize with her. Her high school was a joke. After a lot of soul-searching, I took an unprecedented action, much to the horror of my parents--I signed my daughter out of high school. This article reminds me of that time in our lives. Today, my daughter is just fine!

David Gilmour and Jesse Gilmour

David Gilmour let his son Jesse drop out of school — under two conditions: no drugs, and three father-son movies per week.

Talk of the Nation, May 6, 2008 · When David Gilmour's 16-year-old son Jesse was failing out of school, Gilmour offered him a deal: Jesse could drop out of school, but only if he watched three movies a week with his dad. David and Jesse Gilmour tell their story of unconventional home-schooling in a new memoir, Film Club.

Gilmour describes the three years of watching movies with his son as "a magic time that a father doesn't usually get to have so late in a teenage boy's life ... A lucky break for both of us."

Jesse plans to go to Prague next year to attend film school.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90225967&ft=1&f=1032#share

In our case, Clarissa and I didn't always "bond" like David and Jesse Gilmour throughout my daughter's teen years. But signing her out eliminated one argument from our daily exchanges. I required her to continue her education through self-directed study, which she did. She also began working, and continued working until she was able to move to the San Francisco/Bay Area on her own. She did that within one year. Now she is working, raising her eight month old son, and going to San Francisco City college with an eye on transferring to Sonoma State.

What happened was that I trusted her, even though she was going through a horribly tumultuous period that made me question my parenting skills and judgment. I knew she had that uncommon mixture of exceptional intelligence and pragmatic business sense to pull herself together and see what she wanted to accomplish in life. All she needed was the space to do that, and I chose to give her that space. She would have taken anyway, and then there would have been bad feelings on both sides. I told her that no matter what, good, bad and everything in between, SHE was responsible for her own life. I was letting go. For both of us, it was the right action to take.

I wouldn't advocate doing this for every teenager. I think parents have to make the decision about what in this type of situation to do on a case by case basis. Some kids aren't ready to be responsible for themselves, or they need an academic environment so they can get a firm grasp of the learning process. My son Marc, for example, thrived(academically speaking),in high school. He graduated with honors in spite of having numerous and seriously debilitating seizures during his junior and senior years. Socially, he had a lot problems fitting in with his peers, who seemed to view him as a bit of an anomaly, an African American "uber-brain kid". This, combined with his insecurities about having epilepsy, made high school difficult for him. But he wanted to get through it, and with quintessential Marc stubborn determination, he did.

Chenelle, my youngest, had social problems of a different sort. Like her older sister, she made friends easily in school. And she did well scholastically, when she decided to apply herself to the work. But she didn't always want to do that, and just like her older sister, she became bored with the curriculum. After several months of refusing to go to school and staying in bed with an alarmingly extreme bout of depression, she decided to take the high school proficiency exam during her junior year. She passed it with ease, then said goodbye to both high school life and depression. The following year, she enrolled in Sacramento City College as a theater arts major, which was both good and bad. Her grades were abysmal in most of her classes except theater. Fortunately, she came to realize that she, like her sister, was responsible for creating her path in life. More importantly, I couldn't and wouldn't do that for her. She changed her major to early childhood education with a minor in music, pulled her G.P.A. out of the cellar, and set her goal on transferring to San Francisco State University to major in either early childhood education or child psychology.

Three different paths for three different children, even within one family. Education, to my way of thinking, isn't a one-size-fit-all deal. There are far too many variables within the human personality types, and an educational system dictated by those mind-numbing standardized tests is going to fail at least one quarter of the students they are trying to educate. I used to score standardized test for McGraw Hill, and all I saw every day was evidence that teachers are not allowed to actually TEACH, consequently, students are not allowed to LEARN and think critically about the world around them. This doesn't bode well for our future, in my opinion.

I'm glad my kids managed to get around the system, and acquire those essential critical thinking skills on their own. I realize that there are other teens who are unable to do that, and they drop out of school with little else to look forward to except a life-long struggle with poverty. It's a shame we can't offer more for them. At this point, I couldn't even begin to think of a solution because there is too much resistance, politically, economically and socially, to changing the way our country educates its citizens. All I know is that I wish there was something I, in conjunction with others, could do to help remedy the situation. The first thing I would propose is getting rid of those ridiculous standardized tests. That would be upsetting the status quo and create a situation where people would have to scramble to put together another method of evaluating student performance. But that's fine with me. Our children, our future, are worth the time and the effort.

Wolverine and The X Men Trailer

2008-05-11T14:20:00.001-07:00

I guess this is going to be a TV cartoon series or something. It doesn't matter; I'm watching it. See, told you I've never grown up! Clarissa and Chenelle roll their eyes and walk away whenever I talk about my comic books, but Marc gets it. We talk about comic books all the time, just as we did while he was growing up. Excelsior, as Stan Lee always says!

Susurrus reading and fear

2008-05-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

su-sur-rus: a soft murmuring or rustling sound; a whisper. It's also the name of Sacramento City College's literary magazine.

I should have figured there would be trouble last Saturday when the 4:24 p.m. Regional Transit bus number 21 from Sunrise Mall to Mather Field light rail station was late. It was more than late. It never showed up. There was a group of young men sitting on abandoned, overturned shopping carts at the bus stop when I arrived. They seemed to be so casual and unconcerned that I assumed they were just hanging out. After forty minutes, I was getting anxious. Where was the bus? I searched Coloma Road once again for any sign of a dark blue and bright yellow bus, then turned to the boys.

"Are you all waiting for the bus?"

"Yes, ma'am."

If I wasn't so upset about the bus, I would have been surprised. Five young black men wearing baggy jeans, sweat jackets and tennis shoes referring to me as "ma'am"? Either I look old enough to qualify for the honorific or that group had some serious old school home training.

"How long you've been waiting?"

"'Bout an hour."

That was not good. I was supposed to be at Sacramento City College's little auditorium by 6 pm, and it takes at least an hour to get there by bus and light rail. I pushed aside the gloomy thought that the lack of efficient bus service was analogous to an unfavorable portent for the evening, and called my friend Mari, who picked me up within ten minutes. There was still no bus in sight. The young men in the baggy pants looked like they had fallen asleep on the shopping carts. At least they weren't stressing out over the inefficiency of Regional Transit's bus lines.

"You saved my life AGAIN," I said as I climbed into Mari's car.

"No problem; I was required to learn lifesaving techniques before I became a credentialed teacher."

Friends, where would I be without them?

Due to prior commitments, Mari couldn't stay for the reading. But she told me I was going to be fine, and off she went. I felt like calling her on my cell to come back and pick me up. My stomach was churning and twisting in very unhealthy ways.

I can't deal with this right now. I haven't been around anyone but family, friends, Baha'is and my recovery fellows for almost two months. I must've been temporarily insane when I said would do this!

I couldn't see how it would be possible to read a creative non-fiction story about my family living in the Philippines during the 60s in front of an auditorium filled with people I didn't know. Hyperventilation makes reading out loud quite difficult.

I sat down on a bench, and tried some deep breathing exercises. It helped considerably, and I ate the abstinent dinner that I brought with me. At least that's over, I told myself. I don't have to worry about getting hungry and wanting to eat something that will trigger my addiction.

I forgot that I don't have to be hungry to have the addiction start screaming the words "FEED ME!" into my brain. All it took was the sight of platters pastries with pastries (croissaints, even), a huge chocolate sheet cake, pizza, bagels, teriyaki drummettes, cookies, tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole, brownies...mercy! Anyway, I panicked. Big time. The show wasn't going to start for another hour, and couldn't sit there staring at that food with all the other authors as they blithely chatted and joked around. I excused myself, and went into the ladies room to calm down.

I emerged a half hour later, strengthened by desperate outreach calls to my understanding recovery friends. Following their advice, I went straight into the auditorium, sat down near the front and went into a meditative healing trance. I don't know how many minutes went by, but after a while I felt a strong tap on my shoulder. It was my daughter Chenelle, fresh from a "how to become a clown" class. She brought three of her friends with her, and all of them were wearing those bright red clown noses. I laughed as I hugged all of them. It was better than what the doctor ordered. They were joined by my sister, my daughter Clarissa and my grandson Xavier. My sense of relief was immediate.

I can't remember much of the reading, except my family and Chenelle's friends made an awful lot of noise with all the yelling and various clown noisemakers.

"You did good, Mommy!" Chenelle gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before she took off with her friends to do some more clowning in downtown Sacramento. "You didn't look nervous at all."

If she had seen me earlier, she would have known better. But I didn't say anything. I enjoyed the rest of the readings, and took off with Clarissa, Xavier and Tam as soon as the event was over. On our way to the Clarissa's car, someone yelled out, "Angela, you need to get some of this cake!"

I just smiled and kept walking. Maybe later, after I have a lot more time in recovery, I'll know how to be sociable and maintain my abstinence around tempting food. But not now. I know when to fold 'em.

Wreckage of my eating past

2008-05-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

First, an explanation of the pictures: At the bottom, on the left side is a picture of me at my highest weight, which is unknown. Last Wednesday, after attending my weekly AWOL meeting, I showed this and the other pictures to my fellow group members. They were stunned, to say the least. They estimated that I had to have been 400 pounds. I will never know because I didn't come anywhere near a scale, and I was avoiding any contact with physicians or any other medical professional. I knew I was morbidly obese, and I felt like I didn't need them to elaborate on the obvious. I also didn't want to hear about "cutting back" on the amount and type of food I was eating, or make "healthy lifestyle changes". It wasn't that I felt they were wrong for trying to help me. They were doing what they had been trained to do, which is help keep people alive. Looking at this picture reveals how dangerously close to the edge I had come.

Did I realize what I was doing to myself? Yes, and no. The mind of a food addict works in erratic patterns that seem to make sense in the moment. I was hurting badly, in fact, this picture had to have been taken by my son after I got home from work. My routine was to come in the house and sit on my bed for about a half hour until every bone, joint and nerve ending in my body stopped shrieking about having to work so hard. I was taking 1600 milligrams of doctor-prescribed Ibuprofen every eight hours, and that only took a slight edge off the pain. But at least I could walk, which was impossible without the medicine.

While I was aware that the pain was due to tremendous gravity-defying pressure that my girth placed on my body,I felt completely hopeless and helpless. I had been on diets ever since age nine, and I must have lost almost 1,000 pounds total over a lifetime. But the fateful day always came when I would "reward" myself for being "good" (my addict brain talking to me), and I would take that first bite of whatever I wanted to eat that wasn't "diet food".

It's funny, vegetables were never on my list of foods that I considered to be a reward. My taste buds have never moved beyond a five year old "I HATE spinach!" tantrum. Even now, I have a let's-just-get-this-over-with attitude towards eating veggies. Maybe that's a good thing. If I loved them, they'd probably become a binge food. I don't need any more additions to my unbelievably long list of binge foods.

The picture in the center was taken at the 1994-95 Bazzanella Awards ceremony at California State University at Sacramento. I was a graduate student in English at the time, and I had won second place in the graduate short fiction category for a story I wrote. I can't remember the name of the piece; I would have to dig up my copy of the published book. Anyway, my family and a few of my friends attended the awards, and I felt humbled and grateful for their support.

From left to right, the people in the picture are: My mother, Mary, my then 14 year old daughter Clarissa, me, my father Richard, one of my best friends from high school, Veronica (rest in peace, Ronnie), my sister Tam and my other high school running buddy, Kim. My son Marc, who was 12 at the time, is kneeling on the floor, and next to him is my daughter Chenelle, who was 8. Sitting between Marc and Chenelle is my friend, Beata, who took advanced clairvoyant classes at the Berklee Psychic Institute at the same time I did.

Finding this picture the other day was a trip to me. Did I actually think holding that Bazzanella anthology in front of me would effectively hide my enormous body? Oh, the crazy games the food-addicted mind can play!

The last picture is of me after going through gastric bypass and nearly hemorrhaging to death. For those of you who are new to this blog, I didn't almost bleed to death because of the surgery. That came about because I was morbidly obese and stubbornly opposed to seeing any doctors for the 24 day (and extremely heavy) menstrual cycles I was having each month. I just kept bleeding and bleeding until I had to be hospitalized. That would have happened even if I didn't have gastric bypass surgery. Excess estrogen is stored in fat, and the more fat a person has, the more estrogen is produced and stored. This excess estrogen produces fibroid tumors, and I had three very large ones taking up residence in my uterus. The tumors caused uterus wall to shed continuously, which meant that I lost an awful lot of blood each month. I had to have several transfusions to remain alive.

When this picture was taken, I was extremely weak and anemic. I was losing weight on the average of 20 pounds per month, but I couldn't walk from my bed to the door without nearly passing out. My eyes had trouble focusing on anything, and what I could see was often spinning or moving in strange ways. I had to hang on to the doorway for a few moments until my head cleared and my legs stopped feeling watery. I looked like I had been smoking a lot of high quality marijuana, but my droopy eyes were the result of the anemia and the extra-strength Vicadin that I was taking. You can tell I had lost a lot of weight by how my shirt was hanging on me. That same shirt used to be a very tight fit.

So what do I look like now? Well, I still have that bright pink shirt, and I could wear it as a dress, if I wanted to. But it hangs off my shoulders and it's pretty threadbare now. I didn't have a very extensive wardrobe at 400 pounds.

OK, that's enough for now. I need to eat my salmon and spinach lunch. Yes, I do eat spinach. Don't ask me what I think of the taste, either.

Cliche' Alert; Pictures are worth a thousand...

2008-05-04T13:36:00.000-07:00

The picture on the left was taken on July 4, 1967, Angeles City, Luzon, Philippine Islands. The occasion was my parents' tenth wedding anniversary, and my sister and I, with the help of our housekeeper, Audrey (upper right corner of the picture) decided to bake a chocolate cake for my parents. It turned out flat, probably because we didn't know how to adjust the oven temperature. Not to mention that Tam and I couldn't wait for the cake to be done, and we kept opening the oven door. Richard and Mary Shortt married in Mobile, Alabama on July 4, 1957, Independence Day: a celebration of a forthcoming war, with all the fireworks. What a fitting time for my parents to take their vows.

You can't see much of her in this picture, but that's my Mom standing on the left with the knife in her hand. I guess my Dad figured it was safer to take the picture. On the opposite side of the table from Mom is my sister Tam, eight years old, and peeking around me is my little brother, Ricky. He was three at the time. He rarely wore a shirt back then, just underwear and shorts. The tropical heat was a bit much for him, and he was constantly getting nose bleeds and heat rash. And then there's me--age nine, the hourly struggle to keep food out of my mouth was clearly a lost effort.

I was too embarrassed to show anyone this picture for years. All I could ever see was "Aunt Jemima", the nickname other kids gave me a few years later, standing there holding the candle. Not to mention that I had no fashion sense. In the morning, I used to throw on what ever was in my dresser drawers, regardless of whether it matched or not. As long as it fit, I wore it. And those striped pants probably didn't fit much longer than six months, if I'm recalling the past correctly. But you can't always trust memory, can you? The mind deceives, especially when you are recalling painful childhood memories. For all I consciously know, I could have busted out of those pants within a week. I'm pretty sure I made a big dent in my parents' anniversary cake.

But I feel compelled to face the nightmares of my past so I can be at peace in the present. This was my childhood; there are no do-overs. As much as I sometimes wish I could travel back in time and change events like Hiro Nakamura in the show "Heroes", I now realize that it would be pointless to that. I would still be Angela, working from the blueprint with the abilities, talents, challenges and personality quirks that I have now. So why bother trying to change the past when I am who I was intended to be? I might as well accept my life as it was and as it is right now.

There is another reason why I am posting this picture. Last night marked the 14 annual publication of Susurrus, Sacramento City College's literary magazine. I read an excerpt from the creative non-fiction story I wrote, called "Diamond Life". The title is a reference to the Diamond compound,which is where we were living at the time this picture was taken. Non-com families were often put on waiting lists for on-base housing when they are given an overseas assignment, so we moved into our house in the Diamond compound at some point in November, 1966. I remember being amazed by the cultural differences in celebrating Christmas and Easter, which would take way too long to describe. Especially during the week leading up to Easter, when young Filipino men used to get into fist fights with each other for the honor of portraying Jesus during the Crucification. That was particularly disturbing to all of us. Watching a young man carry an extremely heavy wooden cross on his back while others throw rocks, kick and hit him with sticks seemed to be an extraordinarily odd way of celebrating the miracle of the Savior.

But that was what "Diamond Life" was about. The story dealt with how our family coped with the racism we encountered in the Philippine Islands. Even the poorer-than-dirt-poor felt entitled to call my family and I derogatory names. I would see flashes of fiery red and take off running after the boys when they called us names. That's what the story was about, actually.

Anyway, I'm really tired from staying up so late last night. But I did want to share this.

On being plus-sized

2008-04-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

I hope you will copy and paste the URL that I posted below. It leads to an ABC World News video about a plus-sized model who is competing for the Miss England title. She's a beautiful girl, probably a size 16-18 in US women's clothing sizes:

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/index.php?cl=7604869

I have mixed feelings about the plus sized beauty thing. On one hand, I think it's very important for every woman to see herself as beautiful. On the other hand, it's easy to slip into denial about morbid obesity and play a very dangerous game with life, which is what I did.

(For those of you who are new to my blog, welcome. I'm referring to some of the seriously life threatening problems that I developed as a result of my chronic food addiction. I discussed those complications in an earlier blog titled "My Story".)

In 1981, I was a plus-sized model for Lane Bryant, a chain retail store that specializes in clothes for large women. I didn't stay with it very long because my daughter Clarissa was only a few months old, and I suffered from that awful mother's guilt about leaving her with my mother to do something as "superficial" as modeling. My mother thought modeling at my size was a "damned dumb" idea and a useless waste of time.

"You should be taking care of your daughter, not showing off your body," she told me. "Especially since you need to lose weight before you try something like that."

My mother. If nothing else, she told it the way she saw it.

Not only that, I was going through a lot changes with my ex-husband, who definitely wasn't supportive of my entry into the fashion world. It was kind of fun, though. I did it to help myself overcome some of the horrible self-esteem issues I had at the time. I strutted my stuff wearing a size 20-22, although I still had some postpartum thickening around my waist, which made lingerie modeling impossible as far as I was concerned. The modeling agency, Lybra, felt I should model "teddies", but I flatly refused. At that time, Lane Bryant, who was the client paying the bills, was coming out with a line that was gorgeous and tastefully provocative. But I didn't think lactating breasts and a thick middle would look good in a teddy, and I had trouble mastering the art of walking in stiletto heels. I bowed out of the venture not long after that.

I felt a huge boost in my self-esteem that lasted for about...three months. A fight with my ex-husband that put me in the hospital shattered all those good feelings I had about myself and my body. (Funny, I didn't think our physical confrontation had anything to do with my improving self-esteem until just now!) My middle didn't stop "thickening" either, which pretty much killed any lingering modeling aspirations.

Over the years, I tried to come to some sort of reconciliation with my obesity problem, so I adopted a "real women have CURVES, and I'm a real big, beautiful woman" attitude. I grabbed my friend Cindy and we did the gym route, trying to find a place where big, beautiful women wouldn't be surrounded by those tight spandex-wearing skinny chicks. That didn't work out very well, but I suppose our intentions were good. We did manage to get in a number of exercise sessions during our tour. Actually, I probably did more harm than good. I hated the fact that those little skinny minnies could do aerobics or the treadmill better than me, and I pushed myself into a collapsed state trying to keep up with them. At 300 plus pounds, the amount of added pressure I put on my joints and bones must have been crushing, but I didn't feel it until I got home and tried to get ready for bed. Never say die; that was my motto. No one was going to accuse me of being a lazy fat woman, least of all those teeny-weeny you-know-whats. My brief modeling stint gave me just enough nerve and determination to prove to those "Popsicle sticks" that I was just as beautiful and capable of exercise as they were.

Then I came across this article this morning during my weekly search for obesity related news:

CHICAGO - New research challenges the notion that you can be fat and fit, finding that being active can lower but not eliminate heart risks faced by heavy women. "It doesn't take away the risk entirely. Weight still matters," said Dr. Martha Gulati, a heart specialist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

Previous research has gone back and forth on whether exercise or weight has a greater influence on heart disease risks.

All that jumping up and down I did in those classes--it may reduced some of this risks of developing hypertension, diabetes and chronic heart disease, but it didn't eliminate it. And all that huffing and puffing I did to show those skinny girls that I was just as good as them probably contributed to the further deterioration of my left hip and lower back.

What I was doing was delaying the inevitable--I had to stop eating addictively. That soft, gentle voice in my head kept telling me that that, but I ignored it. Not the food, never that. I didn't want to put away the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups ("They just came out with a new kind!"), ice cream, Popeye's chicken and the Shortt family feasts. What would I do with my life? If I can't enjoy food, what else is there in life to enjoy?

Well, that's what I'm going to find out. I'm now wearing clothes that I haven't been able to wear in three years. In fact, they fit better now than they did when I first bought them. I was in relapse at that time, and I couldn't completely zip up my pants or button the blouses. Eventually, all of the clothes went to the back of my dresser drawers, where they remained until yesterday.

I was shocked that they not only fit, but there was room to spare.

Now, about that modeling thing...no. Don't even go there, Angela. Remember, you hated wearing all that makeup.

Going public...

2008-04-27T19:43:00.001-07:00

Last fall, I wrote a story about a few of the adventures my family had while living on Clark Air Force in the Philippine Islands from 1966-1968. (Any military brats out there? Holla!) After several revisions, I submitted the story for publication in Susurrus, Sacramento City College's literary magazine. I was thrilled that it was accepted. Now I've been asked to do a public reading of my story, along with other Susurrus authors. The event is going to be held at Sacramento City College's small auditorium (room A6) on Saturday, May 3 beginning at 7 pm. I'm probably going to be a little nervous because I haven't done a reading in at least seven, maybe eight years. Yikes! Why did I say yes? Now I'm really nervous!

But this is actually a warm-up for two nerve-wracking challenges that I have been needing to confront, but I couldn't seem to muster the necessary courage to do so. So I told myself that if my Philippines story was accepted, I would take that as a sign from the Abha' Kingdom that I need to: a) submit my book proposal to literary agents and publishing houses; b) do another staged reading of the two act play that I wrote eight years ago called "Maddy Rose", and see if any of the local theaters would be interested in producing it.

You know, writing is easy, except when I have to write about something that is completely boring or out of the realm of possibility for me, as in writing a book about quantum physics. (I love reading about the latest findings, but half the time I can't understand what the physicists are talking about.) It's the other stuff, getting the work out beyond the confines of my community, that is so terrifying to me. But I've been claiming that I'm a writer on my 1040 forms for the past four years. If I don't have anything to back up that claim, the IRS might start thinking strange thoughts about me. The word "audit" comes to mind. And that's even more frightening than marketing my work!

One last word--apparently I can post a blog on Facebook and it will automatically show up on my Blogger site. But the opposite isn't true--whatever I write on angelfly72.blogspot.com (shameless plug alert!) stayes on blogspot.com. Oh well, them be the breaks! :)

Can't think of a title...

2008-04-27T16:18:00.000-07:00

At first, I was going to call this post "Untitled", but that made me think about that incredible D'Angelo video from a few years back...sigh. Oh. My. GOODNESS! My, my, my. Whew! All right, now. That just brought on the first hot flash of the season. Where ARE you, D.? I mean, you don't have to do another "Untitled" video 'cos, seriously, women my age can only take so much! Last time I watched the aforementioned one, I had to go get a bag of frozen peas for my forehead!

We interrupt this post for an emergency broadcast of youtube's D'Angelo video....

Angela, keep your head to the sky and your mind out of the gutter! Good God Almighty, I need help right now! 'Scuse me....

OK, I'm back, frozen peas and all. Time to get serious. (Angela cues up Beethoven's Symphony No.9) That's better. Nothing like the theme song to "The Nightly News with Chet Huntley and David Brinkley" to bring me back down to Terra Firma.

I've had been very anxious and edgy because I had been without a sponsor for almost a month, and I needed to have one to not only continue working my recovery program the way I'm supposed to, but to remain in my AWOL meeting (A Way of Life). That's where the recovery process gets down deep into those hidden recesses of the soul, digging out those nasty, dirty resentments, baseless and useless fears and ego-powered self-aggrandizing. And the people who continually go through the AWOL meetings have a sense of serenity and acceptance about not only recovery, but life itself. They know they aren't perfect, but that's all right because they are learning to be patient with imperfection and enjoy the journey through life. I want that even more than weight loss, although weight loss IS extremely important to me. It has to be, I've almost died too many times. But I could be stark raging abstinent, lose all of my excess weight, and make Elpha (the wicked witch of the West in the land of Oz)seem as sweet and cuddly as a "Care Bear." So, for the sake of other citizens in this world and my own sanity, I need to find that elusive serenity and acceptance.

It's not easy. I've discovered that I have the same problem that I had five years ago, after I lost 100 pound with gastric bypass surgery. It seems that as the "padding" aka layers of fat are disappearing, the lower part of my skeletal system becomes more painful. My left hip and lower back hurts even more, and the irritated sciatic nerve in my left leg begins to throb in protest if I sit longer than a half hour. When this happened to me after gastric bypass surgery, I became angry and resentful, two emotions that a chronic food addict like me cannot afford to have. The doctors told me my symptoms would improve after weight loss. Why the hell am I hurting so much? Those doctors lied to me!

Now I don't believe they lied to me. They just didn't know what would happen once I started losing weight. Most people do feel better after losing just 10% of their excess weight. For some strange reason, I always seem to be the exception to the whatever medical research says. That's nothing new to me. I defied medical science by becoming one of the 2% of women who become pregnant while actively taking birth control pills. In fact, I've used every form of birth control, and the only one that worked consistently was tubal ligation, for which I was truly grateful.*

My track record with prescription drugs is even worse. I've had amphetamines prescribed to me as a child to curb my appetite, and I became even hungrier and ravaged my food faster. On top of that, I developed very demonic tendencies. My mother took me off those meds with the quickness. When I was hemorrhaging excessively for 14 out of 30 days of the month, my gynecologist prescribed progesterone to counteract the excess estrogen in my body. "The research shows that women stop bleeding when they take progesterone," he told me. Not me. I began bleeding even more.

So I shouldn't be surprised that losing weight has not brought about the relief from pain that is expected. I've lost way more than 10% of my highest weight; I'm currently around 55% of my excess weight gone. Yet, I woke up at four in the morning with my left hip and sciatic nerve pulsing in red hot pain. It sucked because I couldn't take anything for it. I would have missed my 6:15 am call to my new sponsor if I did. I can't do that; I'm only one bite away from a binge at all times. I need to work with someone who's been through similar circumstances, and has prevailed over the madness with the help of God. My current sponsor has done that, and I want what she has in her life right now--serenity and acceptance of the fact that food addiction has kicked her butt way too many times, and she has to work a rigorous program to keep it in remission. I want what she has so much that I'm willing to forgo pain meds so I can be alert enough to call her on time.

My sponsor reminded me that this is just an obstacle, and I can get through. Being in pain doesn't mean I have to start eating addictively again, the way I did in 2004. "This too shall pass," she reminded me. Even though there was that voice of cynicism whispering, no, it won't pass; you'll be a hurt puppy like this forever, I took comfort in those words. It will pass. I will reach that level of serenity and acceptance of life on life's terms. And I will reach, for the first time in my life, a normal weight for my body. All I have to do is work the program, one day at a time.

And just for today, I'm willing to do that.

* Baha'is couples are encouraged to use birth control until they are fully prepared to have children. However, permanent forms of birth control, such as tubal ligation and vasectomies, are discouraged. I had my procedure done before I declared as a Baha'i.

Lessons from "The End of the Affair"

2008-04-22T13:54:00.000-07:00

I received the movie "The End of the Affair" from Netflix last Tuesday, but I didn't watch it until Sunday evening. The reason why I took so long to watch it was I couldn't shake off the chilling sense of foreboding every time I thought about putting the movie into my DVD player. My practical sense finally took over and told me to watch it. After all, that's why I pay the fees to Netflix each month, whether I watch a new movie or not. So I fixed my little meal of a turkey burger (all white meat,and it turned out to be rather dry), spinach and green beans, and sat down to a solo "dinner and a movie" date. Hey, it's the best I can do these days.

The first sign of trouble was that I couldn't keep the spinach down, and I kept pausing the movie to dash to the bathroom. I didn't cook the spinach or the turkey burger in enough broth so it was sufficiently digestible for my surgically altered stomach. I won't do that again. I can't have something as innocuous as spinach ruin my own dinner date. I should have at least one nice, relaxing evening a week, even if the food is not to my liking. Oh well, maybe next Sunday.

I have to back up a little bit right here. Since my excursion at Bosch Baha'i School last weekend, I've processing a lot of thoughts and feelings about my relationship with God. I've always believed in God, even though that belief became more tentative when I became a teenager and a young adult. Looking back, I see that I had two prevailing feelings about the Almighty--one was that He was always angry and/or disappointed with me (Baptist upbringing), and I was destined to be thrown in the lake of fire because of my constantly wayward thoughts, particularly the ones concerning the opposite sex. I didn't want to even consider some of my actions because I was certain that even though I played the part of the "good little girl and dutiful daughter" most of the time, the two percent of the time that I "backslid" into Sodom and Gomorrah-like behavior would be much more incriminating than the "sweet Polly Purebread" role that I played.

In a very weird contrast, I also had the impression that God was some kind of gigantic vending machine in the sky--you put in the right amount of currency, which was "good deeds", and you are rewarded with whatever you want in life. I've been trying to understand where I got that idea, and the only explanation is from the testimonies I heard in church every Sunday. People stand up during church service and testify to the goodness of the Lord. He healed someone's sick child, He got another one a new car that was didn't cost a single penny, and yet another got a new job earning twice as much money as the old one. All of these things happened because those people did the right thing-- they believed in the Lord, came to church faithfully, tithed 10% of their paychecks and put money in the collection plate, and listened to the pastor because he was the proper interpretor of God's word for us laypeople. By listening to these testimonies, I began to think that God worked on an almost you-scratch-my-back-and-I'll-scratch-yours basis. Show the Lord love in the proper manner, and you can have whatever good things the material world has to offer. And if you don't get what you want, it's because you didn't really believe and you weren't wholeheartedly engaging in the previously mentioned activities.

A woman who has been chronically homeless asked to come to stay with me almost two years ago, supposedly to help me out around the house because my mobility issues makes certain tasks difficult (but not impossible, as I have discovered). When I realized that I was doing most of the housework because she was either too "sick" or too busy chatting on her computer, I asked her to leave. As she packed up her belongings, she kept saying that she hoped "God wasn't jerking her around" and would provide her with a permanent place to stay. I was amused by her not-so-subtle attempts to make me feel badly about my decision, an entirely wasted effort since I knew she had been bouncing from one person's home to the next for the past five years. She didn't seem to understand that she when represented herself as a care provider for disabled people, she actually had to do the required work. Anything less constituted a violation of the agreement.

But what was more compelling to me was the idea that she thought God was her personal servant. Of course, she didn't think of it that way because she knew she was a "good person" deserving of God's bountiful graces. That is, if she prayed to God to give or do something for her, it should happen because God loved her (and not me, since I was the evil witch who kicked her out with no other place to go), and a loving parent should do everything to make a child happy. And if it didn't manifest in the way she thought it should, she accused God of "jerking her around."

I laughed at her childish, totally self-centered ideas about the Lord until I was struck by a thought--what if that woman was a mirror of my own thoughts and behaviors? Wasn't I childish and self-centered, just like her? I had prayed for years to make me thin, yet I wasn't willing to put down the food that would make that happen. God was supposed to instantly transform me into a beautiful and shapely princess, a la Cinderella's fairy godmother. I certainly didn't want to deprive myself of all the good food that's available to an experienced and cultured sensualist like me. Wasn't it inhuman to live in agonizing deprivation everyday, the way I did whenever I was on a diet? God wouldn't want me to suffer so mercilessly, would he? A loving and forgiving God just wouldn't do that to His child. So if I prayed hard enough and believed in Him with all my heart, He would grant me my wish and make me thin. And I clung to that belief to the point of almost reaching 400 pounds and an early death.

It was sobering to think that I was no different than that woman who believed God issued dividends for prayers of self-centered desires.

Thoughts of this type have been roiling around in my brain for the past two years, and they have been occurring with much more frequency since I left Bosch. All of this came to a rather disturbing epiphany as I watched "The End of the Affair". The old adage "be careful what you wish for" began to run in a continuous message loop in my head by the end of the movie.

For those of you who have never seen the movie, which starred Ralph Fiennes, Julianne Moore and Stephen Rhea,here is a fairly accurate plot synopsis:

Ralph Fiennes stars as Maurice Bendrix, a British writer living in 1940's London, who has an affair with Sarah Miles (Julianne Moore), the wife of Maurice's friend, Henry (Stephen Rea). Based on a Graham Greene novel, the film achieves far greater intellectual and emotional depth than this skeletal outline would indicate. Part of the success rests in the fact that both the original author and the adapter, writer/director Neil Jordan, have devised a multi-level scenario that utilizes a number of narrative techniques as the means of revealing crucial information to the audience regarding both the plot and the characters. For instance, the film travels fluidly back and forth in time, spanning the decade of the 1940's, from the initial meeting between Bendrix and Sarah in 1939, through the horrendous bombings of London during World War II to the `present' time of the post-war British world. This allows the authors to reveal the details of the affair slowly, enhanced by the even more striking technique of having the events viewed from the entirely different viewpoints of the two main characters involved. `Rashomon' – like, we first see the affair through the prism of Bendrix's limited perspective, only to discover, after he has confiscated Sarah's diary, that he (and consequently we) have been utterly mistaken as to the personal attributes and moral quality of Sarah all along. Thus, as an added irony, Bendrix discovers that he has been obsessing over a woman he `loves' but, in reality, knows little about.

The authors also enhance the depth of the story through their examination of TWO men struggling with their overwhelming jealousy for the same woman and the complex inter-relationships that are set up as a result. In fact, the chief distinction of this film is the way it manages to lay bare the souls of all three of these fascinating characters, making them complex, enigmatic and three-dimensional human beings with which, in their universality, we can all identify. Bendrix struggles with his raging romantic passions, his obsessive jealousy for the woman he can't possess and his lack of belief in God, the last of which faces its ultimate challenge at the end. Sarah struggles with the lack of passion she finds in the man she has married but cannot love as more than a friend, juxtaposed to the intense love she feels for this man she knows she can never fully have. In addition, she finds herself strangely faithful, if not to the two men in her life, at least to two crucial commitments (one to her wedding vows and one to God) yet unable to fully understand why. Henry struggles with his inadequacies as a lover and the strange possessiveness that nevertheless holds sway over him. Even the minor characters are fascinating. Particularly intriguing is the private investigator who becomes strangely enmeshed in the entire business as both Bendrix and Henry set him out to record Sarah's activities and whereabouts, a man full of compassion for the people whom he is, by the nature of his profession, supposed to view from a position of coldhearted objectivity.

Now, what was it about that movie that had me throwing up my dinner (although my cooking methods are more at fault), teary-eyed and sad for the rest of the night? It's simple. I saw myself in both Ralph Fiennes' and Julianne Moore's characters. Like Maurice Bendrix, I have raged and doubted God when I didn't get my way, and blamed him for things that happened in my life that were of my own doing, not His. How convenient it is to make God the fall guy for my impulsive, obsessive, badly managed life? I don't think I'm being hard on myself, even though I can claim that "I didn't know any better". I've heard in certain 12 step meetings for years that people like me are "too hard on themselves", and that seemed to give me an excuse to go ahead and eat whatever I wanted to ease the pain of my self-flagellation. That line of thinking nearly killed me. Bottom line is I was the one who obsessed on sweets, baked goods and excess quantities of food while at the same time, wanting a close relationship with a man when it has been clear that my number one relationship has been with food. No man has ever stood a chance in getting close to me. I used the excuse that I've had a difficult life to put even morefood in my mouth.

How is God at fault for that? There is no logic in that reasoning. Turning to food instead of God has not been, nor will it ever be, the answer for what has been lacking in my life. But like Maurice Bendrix, I had to nearly die to even wake up to the fact that there might be another way of "doing" life. Maurice was stubbornly determined to see life through his own filtered lens, and make very few deviations from his point of view. His relationship with Sarah, and eventually his own sense of self was shattered as a result. At best, he found a bit of release through acknowledging that perhaps there is a God, but Bendrix felt that He took his Sarah, and therefore his life, away. As a result, Bendrix felt compelled to blame and hate Him, even though the true source of his misery was the assumptions that he made about his life and Sarah.

On the other hand, Sarah was a woman of intense passion, although it was hardly obvious. She was the consummate "good girl", who married a "good man", one who provided stability and comfort during a time where both were threatened by the Germans' bombings of London. She accepted the role of "the supportive wife", as I did when I was much younger. And like me, she felt pieces of herself dying off. She came alive again when she met Bendrix, and her once dismal world became inundated with color and energy. Again, I can relate to that. But she was also aware of God though the modest Catholic teachings of her mother, and sensed that she should be seeking a relationship with Him throughout her life. When Bendrix lived through the bombing of his home through miraculous circumstances, she knew that her sincere prayers had been answered, and she had to make things right with the Lord. She also felt obligated to live up to the bargain she made with God, which was to never see Bendrix again if God allowed him to live.

How many times I have bargained with God to allow to me to do or have something that I passionately desired in my life? Unlike Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I can't count the ways. The bargaining has been endless, and mostly futile. I can't have a thin body while eating pizza and ziti pasta with marinara and mountains of cheese, or chocolate 911 cake with vanilla bean gelato. My metabolism has been thrashed by years of addictive eating and slowed to an absolute crawl, so I am, as the Big Book of AA says, "bodily different from my fellows". I can't eat certain foods and be satisfied with just one small serving like other people. Since that is the reality that I created for myself, I have to accept it and make adjustments. In effect, I've had the mess, so I have to clean it up. I supposed if God created the seemingly endless universes, He could miraculously change my metabolism so that I could eat all that I want and never gain an ounce. But I would also never learn that there are consequences in this world to my actions. That's a hard lesson to learn.

Sarah accepted the consequences of that fervent prayer to God to save her lover's life a lot like I've been accepting recovery--through a lot of grief and restless angst. But when she saw Bendrix again, she realized that she had to take a chance at happiness, even if she would go to hell as a result. I've done that, too. And paid for that decision. A long, dispassionate marriage to her husband seemed like merciless torment, while a short, uncertain time spent with Bendrix seemed the better alternative to walking around in a numb, zombie-like state. She was granted her brief time of happiness, and then she died.

Did God punish her for following her passionate desires for Bendrix and leaving her husband? A traditionally fundamentalist view of the situation would say, yes. She disobeyed God's laws, therefore she was rightfully punished. That position may satisfy some people, but it makes little sense to me. God didn't punish her. She made several decisions that she believed were right at the time, and God stepped aside for her to live out the consequences of those decisions. God didn't create the war that devastated London during World War II. Mankind did that, for many reasons that could be distilled down into pride and ego on BOTH sides. Sarah had nothing to do with that decision, but her life was determined by the circumstances of war. She did the best she could under those terms. But she did have control over her feelings, and she could have been more forthcoming about expressing her discontent to her husband, thereby saving both of them a lot of grief. God had nothing to do her decision to keep silent about her marital unhappiness, nor did He persuade her to have an affair with Bendrix. Eventually, she felt no consolation in living without her lover, and took to walking for hours regardless of the cold, miserable London weather. She caught pneumonia and died. Again, God had nothing to do with that decision to expose her body to the elements, especially during post-war time when medical services were difficult to obtain.

All of this reminded me of the quote from The Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh that my Baha'i community discussed at Bosch last week:
O BOND SLAVE OF THE WORLD! Many a dawn hath the breeze of My loving-kindness wafted over thee and found thee upon the bed of heedlessness fast asleep. Bewailing then thy plight it returned whence it came.

Human beings can be very much "slaves" to their passions and desires. It isn't that pleasure should be avoided (The Baha'i Faith forbids asceticism and monasticism) and a life of austere piety should be followed. It's about our attention, our focus on this material world. "All things in moderation", we have been instructed. Yet, we aren't satisfied with a modest portion, in fact, we don't even enjoy it. We want more. Always, always more. Even if more is granted, it's never enough. So we spend our lives pursuing a promise of happiness that is never fulfilled. We can enjoy the good things of life. But we have to realize that the pleasures of this world are transient. They pass with time. The only aspect of life that is everlasting is our spiritual nature, which we discover through communion with God. When we are heedless and don't listen to that soft, loving Voice that will come in and wait for us to turn toward Him for direction, God leaves us to the fates we have created, saddened by what we do to ourselves.

That is what left me teary-eyed and distressed at the end of the movie. I can't afford to write that I hate God, as Maurice Bendrix implied while typing his diary in the first scene. I know better. The difficulties in my life have come about through my stubborn attachment to following my passions. The remedy is to follow God instead my desires.

Adding my Facebookpage to Blogger

2008-04-21T14:10:00.001-07:00

Angela: Facebook, meet my Blogger account, angelfly72@blogspot.com. Blogger meet my Facebook account, which is...I'm not sure; I can't see the URL from here. Oh, well, you know where it is.

Facebook and Blogger: Pleased to meet you! (They smile and shake hands.)

Angela: All right! Now I'm sure we'll all be the bestest of friends! :)

To Russia, With Love...

2008-04-18T22:07:00.001-07:00

When my kids were about 15 years younger than they are now, we often watched T.V. together. None of this Mom-has-hers-and-the-kids-have-theirs kind of stuff. First of all, I couldn't afford more than one television. Second, I discovered that I liked watching shows with my children. It gave us an opportunity to have some very interesting discussions about a number of topics.

For instance, one evening we were watching a show about the Cold War that was more than likely on PBS. The program showed some old newsreel footage of school children doing the "duck and cover" during a nuclear air raid drill. I began cracking up laughing, and as usual, my kids looked at me as if I needed to put in a padded cell. But I couldn't help it. The sight of those kids from the 50s hiding under their desks as if that was sufficient protection from a nuclear mushroom cloud was hysterically funny to me.

One of them finally asked me why I was laughing, and to my surprise, I couldn't explain it. How could I describe what it was like to be a child during a time when authority figures were to be obeyed without question or "backtalk"? For a military brat like me, the rules were even more stringent. I don't know about base brats from other branches of the military, but those of us who had fathers in the Air Force during the Vietnam War were told that if we didn't behave at school (which meant sit or stand quietly at all times; don't talk, move or raise your hand unless given specific instructions to do so), our fathers would lose their stripes. This meant they would be demoted in rank,the ultimate humiliation for any serviceman.

This was a terrifying threat to us. At best, the entire family would be subject to gossip and ridicule. That meant that our mothers would make every day a living hell, reminding us of how we embarrassed the family "after all your father and I have done for you". However, that was the very least of our concerns. Causing our dads to lose rank meant one thing--the belt.

Every military brat I've ever known has feared the belt. The same accessory that our fathers used to keep the shirt neatly tucked into their pants, thereby conforming to standard dress regulations, could be turned into a fearsome weapon of unimaginable pain and suffering. The belt could be whipped from around the waist in a single smooth motion, and move through the air so fast that there would be barely enough time to gasp for breath, let alone duck and run. Besides, running made everything worse because no matter how fast a child ran, a father could run faster. Then, it was double time: twice the amount of red, throbbing welts across the legs and arms. The best thing to do was stand there and take it, although no one thought that it was a desirable alternative. The belt hurt like hell.

My children knew nothing about the belt, or how the "don't talk, move or even breathe" rule worked. I repealed corporal punishment from my list of disciplinary actions, and took a few parenting classes. It was a lot of work to ride out the tantrums, hand out restrictions and take away privileges without backing down from my word, ever. It seemed so much easier to tell the kids to shut up and do as they are told, or else. But then again, I had to think about my own life--did those spankings really stop me from doing something I wanted to do? Sometimes. But most of the time, I just lied about what I did to avoid the belt. With my own children, I decided that hitting a kid was a not a good way to encourage honesty and instill a sense of dignity.

But my kids had a difficult time understanding why boomer children like me would willingly do something as ridiculous as duck underneath our desks and cover our head in the event of a Soviet nuclear attack. Didn't our teachers and parents know that it wouldn't do any good, that we would become nothing more than shadows on the classroom walls in mere seconds?

"I'm not sure if they knew that or not," I admitted. "None of us ever asked."

That's when all three of my children started laughing and talking at once.

"What? That's crazy, Mom!"

"What was putting your arms over your head supposed to do? Keep the radiation away?"

"Man, people were DUMB back then!"

Well, we were certainly more gullible, especially military brats like me. Why would our government keep secrets from us? That's the kind of stuff the Russians did to their people. At least that's what all of the adults told all of us kids. Since we didn't know any Russians to tell us otherwise, we believed it. It was believe it or else.

But the door was opened to the past, and I did my best to try to explain the mindset of Americans at the time. It wasn't easy. They had no basis of comparison in pre-9/11 America. They were critical thinking, media savvy children, accustomed to open debates about everything including a president's sexual proclivities on CNN, PBS and MTV. We had whatever Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley told us. More than likely, those very capable and esteemed journalists had to walk a White House-defined line with the truth. That is, until the Vietnam War and Watergate, which I also tried to explain to my children. But they weren't interested in that. They wanted to know why kids in the 50s and 60s had to crouch underneath their desks during bomb drills when it would be a waste of time and energy during an attack.

I still don't know how to explain that one. But at the time, I felt I had to think of something to say.

"Well, they did give us dog tags to wear...."

"Dog tags? What's that?"

"They were standard issue for all military brats. They were these little metal plates on chains that we had to wear at all times. The plates with our full names, date of birth social security numbers, and the names and ranks of our fathers engraved on them. Oh, and they put our religious affiliation on there, too. Supposedly the tags would help with identifying our bodies and making funeral arrangements."

They roared at that one.

"Funeral arrangements? There wouldn't have been anyone around to bury you!" Clarissa, always the pragmatic one.

"Mom, do you know how much power a nuclear bomb has? Some of them are 60 MEGATONS, that's 60 million tons of TNT!"

That was my son, Marc. He has a flash drive-like mind that stores unbelievable amounts of scientific information and mathematical equations. At that time, he was ten years old and reading Stephen Hawkings' books when he wasn't in school or playing video games with his friends. I have yet to read past the first three paragraphs of A Brief History of Time. It gives me a headache.

It did no good to explain that the U.S. and the former USSR were sworn enemies locked into a war of rhetoric and propaganda that terrified most Americans into believing that at any moment, Khrushchev or his dictatorial successor, Brezhnev, would launch ICBMs that would annihilate our country.

"ICBMs? What's that?"

"Sounds like a really big turd."

More laughter. The Cold War was a very strange time in our country's history, I thought. I took a deep breath and continued with my bumbling attempts to help my children understand how our country had nearly gone insane with fear.

"Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles. Both sides had them, pointed at each other. Still do, as far as I know."

Chenelle finally spoke up.

"Does that mean America and Russia can still blow each other up?"

I had to think about that for moment.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

And that part is still true.

Today there is no greater glory for man than that of service in the cause of the Most Great Peace. Peace is light, whereas war is darkness. Peace is life; war is death. Peace is guidance; war is error. Peace is the foundation of God; war is a satanic institution. Peace is the illumination of the world of humanity; war is the destroyer of human foundations. When we consider outcomes in the world of existence, we find that peace and fellowship are factors of upbuilding and betterment, whereas war and strife are the causes of destruction and disintegration. All created things are expressions of the affinity and cohesion of elementary substances, and nonexistence is the absence of their attraction and agreement. Various elements unite harmoniously in composition, but when these elements become discordant, repelling each other, decomposition and nonexistence result. Everything partakes of this nature and is subject to this principle, for the creative foundation in all its degrees and kingdoms is an expression or outcome of love. Consider the restlessness and agitation of the human world today because of war. Peace is health and construction; war is disease and dissolution. When the banner of truth is raised, peace becomes the cause of the welfare and advancement of the human world. In all cycles and ages war has been a factor of derangement and discomfort, whereas peace and brotherhood have brought security and consideration of human interests. This distinction is especially pronounced in the present world conditions, for warfare in former centuries had not attained the degree of savagery and destructiveness which now characterizes it. If two nations were at war in olden times, ten or twenty thousand would be sacrificed, but in this century 124 the destruction of one hundred thousand lives in a day is quite possible. So perfected has the science of killing become and so efficient the means and instruments of its accomplishment that a whole nation can be obliterated in a short time. Therefore, comparison with the methods and results of ancient warfare is out of the question.

from The Promulgation of Universal Peace
by Abdu’l-Bahá page 470, US Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1982 second edition.

Something to think about...

2008-04-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

My friend Cindy forwards emails to me that are sometimes thought-provoking, and other times unbelievably silly. She calls them "funny", but I have to tell her sometimes that I find them tasteless. We've known each other for over twenty years now; so she doesn't even take offense. Today, however she sent one that was thought-provoking, and the other one was hilarious. I grew up in a home where red pepper flakes, Tabasco, Red Dot hot sauce, jalapeños, and salsa were always placed at the center of the table during EVERY meal. And we seriously used that stuff!

First one is for anyone who has had trouble understanding the opposite sex. I guess that includes everyone. I know I'm in that category.

TGIF: Today God Is First
by Os Hillman

Square Peg in a Round Hole

"Indeed, God has put the body together in such a way that he gives greater dignity to the parts that lack it, so that there will be no disagreements within the body, but rather all the parts will be equally concerned for all the others" (1 Cor 12:24-26).

"I feel like I've been attempting to fit a thousand pegs into the relationship hole but not one satisfies you with the words you are looking for me to say." Those were the words I said to my wife in complete frustration.

We were at an impasse in our relationship for days--yes, days! No matter what I said or how I said it didn't seem to matter. She was viewing the situation through her grid; I was viewing it through mine. It was like trying to fit a round peg into a square hole that simply wouldn't work no matter how hard I tried.

Then I said these words: "I'm sorry I could not see your perspective and implied that you had a hurtful motive behind your actions. I know you've never done that in the past." Bingo! Something happened! This peg actually fit! She jumped out of her chair and rushed over to kiss me! Our relationship took a 180° turn in six seconds! "How did that happen!?" I pondered what just took place, feeling totally perplexed, but relieved over the fact a resolution came forth.

I realized later I was viewing the situation through my left brain only, where logic and reasoning is processed, as most of us men tend to do. She desired an emotional heart connection with me. She wanted me to identify and attempt to view the situation through her lense and an emotional grid. Once I was able to do this her heart was reopened to me and to our relationship.

Men and women often view situations from two differing vantage points. Men view things from facts. Women view them from its impact on their heart and the relationship. Next time you find yourself at an impasse with your spouse, consider these factors.

Unlike me, you might reduce your game time of "peg and hole".

And the second piece, which reminded me of a member of the Rancho Cordova Baha'i community who thought the Italian sausage in the spaghetti sauce served during dinner at our weekend retreat at Bosch was "too spicy". I had to laugh at that one.

THE CHILI REPORT

If you can read this whole story without laughing, then there's no hope for you. This is an actual account as relayed to paramedics at a chili cook-off in Texas.
Note: Please take time to read this slowly. If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better.

For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is.They actually have a Chili Cook-off about the time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the San Antonio City Park.
Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL. Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table, asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy; and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted and became Judge 3."
Here are the scorecard notes from the event:

CHILI # 1 - MIKE'S MANIAC MONSTER CHILI.
Judge # 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 -- Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) -- Holy crap, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
CHILI # 2 - AUSTIN'S AFTERBURNER CHILI.
Judge # 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.
CHILI # 3 - FRED'S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI.
Judge # 1 -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
Judge # 2 -- A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 -- Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my
backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting sh**-faced from all of the beer.
CHILI # 4 - BUBBA'S BLACK MAGIC...
Judge # 1 -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. This 300 lb. woman is starting to look HOT... just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?
CHILI # 5 LISA'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER...
Judge # 1 -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2 -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my lips off. It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming.
CHILI # 6 - VERA'S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY...
Judge # 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I messed on myself when I farted, and I'm worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except for Sally. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my rear
with a snow cone.
CHILI # 7 - SUSAN'S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI...
Judge # 1 -- A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2 -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. **I should take note that I am worried about Judge # 3.
He appears to be a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.
CHILI # 8 - BIG TOM'S TOENAIL CURLING CHILI.....
Judge # 1 -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blend of chili's. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 -- This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it, poor feller, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 - No Report