Revisiting Poetry

My first poem in a VERY LONG TIME: 


You yearn to pick the rose that grows
behind the bulletproof glass.
I watch with the melancholic laugh,
as a garden flourishes behind you.

Kaleidoscope blankets of flora wait at your back,
but will you notice before summer has come to pass,
when the hand of time throws infinite petals to
wilt in browning grass?

My dear, that glass you will not crack...
Just turn around to see, everything of your dreams
is here right now. Forget the future and the past.

I Love My Mom.

My mom is a cool woman, with a wacky sense of humor and a heart of gold. She's spiritual and creative. As she says, "The coconut doesn't fall far from the tree", and it's true. I have her to thank for many of my qualities and sensibilities.

Last week, the approach of Mother's Day got me thinking about my favorite moments with my mom. I thought for a while about those times that made me love her so much. The list could go on, but these made the top of the list:

1. She taught me about the truth of Christopher Columbus and that he caused a genocide. In second grade, when asked on a test, "Who was Christopher Columbus?", I wrote, "A genocidal maniac."  I got in trouble. The teacher marked my answer wrong and she called my mom into school. Mom stood up for me and told the teacher that she agreed with my answer. By the way, this wasn't the only time she had to do this :-)

2. She introduced me to Monty Python at an early age. I was about 11 when she bought me The Holy Grail and Life of Brian. It absolutely changed my world. These films expanded my mind and inspired me to explore humor in a way I never imagined before. Eventually, when I was 13, I wrote my own sketch comedy styled film. It was heavily influenced by Python, with satirical jabs aimed at politics and the Catholic church. 

3. She gave me a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show when I was 11, which also exploded my mind into a new paradigm. I loved that movie and watched it so much (Tim Curry, what a genius!) that I broke the video cassette. Then I brought it to my friends houses. I thought it was the coolest thing, but the parents of my friends didn't agree. Again, I got in trouble by adults who didn't get me, and my mom stood up for me. Of course, I gave up on showing it to my friends for a while. 

4. She didn't kill me when I told her that I lived in Afghanistan for two years--this was long after the fact. She just calmly said, "Good thing I didn't know. If I had known, I would have flown to Kabul just to drag you home". Yeah, she's great at loving me for who I am, even with all the crazy things I do. Maybe she doesn't understand everything that I do, but she loves me, no matter what.

5. She was completely understanding when I got kicked out of Sunday school class for telling the teacher that women have the freedom of choice when it comes to their reproductive health. She never made me go back after that. Thank God!

6. She's a great storyteller. There's never a lack of conversation when she's around. We always have interesting stories to share, and I know I got the gift of gab from her.

7. She makes the best eggplant parmesian. Hands down. I miss it all the time.

8. She has helped to preserve and educate me about our family's Irish heritage. She's preserved and found so much information about our family's lineage. I don't think everyone knows as much about their family tree--the woman even went to Ireland to research our deeper roots.

9. She's classy and cultured. She always took me to museums and gave me tons of books to read. She taught me how to appreciate the beautiful and more aesthetic things in life. She's a great interior decorator and showed me how to turn everything, even my bedroom, into art. 

This is just a sliver of why my mom is so wonderful. I hope she realizes how much I love her and how grateful I am for what she has given me over the years.

Inner Butterfly

This year is phenomenal, and I know I'm transitioning into something more, something I've never experienced before. It's what I've been working for on all levels: spiritually, professionally, and geographically.

My psychic/spiritual growth is intense. I feel more than ever, and I have to say, it's a blessing, but it hurts. I don't know why I have this gift, but I do. Often times, I feel more than I want to feel from other people--especially the ones I care about the most. I guess it gives me more compassion, but it's hard on my heart and body. It often makes me want to just hide in a cave. I've come to the point where if a dear friend is in physical pain, I can physically feel it as well. If someone is having a bad day, I can feel that too-even if he or she is half way around the globe. Luckily, I know enough to understand when it's not my own stuff, but what to do with it? I wish I could find my Yoda to help me soon (Yoda, if you're reading this now, give a shout out!).

The Henderson House

Last summer I went to New Mexico to make a documentary short for the YWCA about the Henderson House, a home that was created to get homeless women veterans off the street and back into solid and secure lives.

I didn't know what to expect with my interviews, but speaking with these women changed my life. All the women veterans I spoke with have PTSD because of sexual abuse in the military. It's one thing to read about these stories, but to hear their stories in person was something else. I am so disgusted by how these women were treated by men in the military and how they weren't taken care of after serving for our country. Society and the government left them homeless. Most of it was painful for me to digest, but the light in the darkness was the Henderson House, which is really the first home of its kind in the country where these women can bounce back with all the love and support they need. There have been homeless shelters for women veterans in the states, but the women had to share the space with male veterans. Imagine how hard it is to trust a male veteran after experiencing sexual abuse in the military for years on end. And what's unique about the Henderson House is that it isn't just a shelter--it's a proper home.Watch the video below or see the longer version here.

Thoughts on Kony 2012

Disclaimer-

I don't have a lot of answers. This is a long rant so I'll sum it up here at the top.

1. I congratulate Invisible Children just as much as I question them. I hope they succeed in healing the wounds of child soldiers & trafficking in Uganda and beyond.

2. Let the majority of voices of the Kony Campaign come from the Ugandans. 

3. Kony is not in Uganda--Invisible Children should have made this clear in the video.

4. I don't believe sending US troops is necessarily the best answer.

5. Look before you donate. 

6. In the end, my opinions don't matter too much. The big question is, "What do the Ugandans want?"

My professional background makes me very interested in Kony 2012. I spent ten years working in international development, in war torn places like Cambodia, East Timor and a solid two-year stint in Kabul, Afghanistan. 

Am I impressed with Kony 2012? Yes! Do I have issues with Kony 2012? Yes! And I'm grateful that it has evolved the way it has, because the world is discussing what it means to be sustainable in international development. In this Internet world where everything is so visible and where it's easy to donate with the click of a button, it's important to question as much as it is to praise this campaign. We have some lessons to learn, especially as we collectively address and move deeper into the healing of our global community.

Blow Bubbles: How to Have Fun in LA Traffic

Traffic in LA... It's a bitch sometimes! No, really. And I never swear on this blog, but I get to swear when it comes to talking 'bout traffic.  Those of you who have braved driving here understand my agony and have plenty of profanities for it that I won't use on this blog. For those of you who have never driven here, I often find myself taking an hour to drive 10 miles. Ugh... Being tapped into one of the main pulses of western civilization comes with a price.

Today was different though. For about 20 minutes, I drove behind a man who was alone in his car. His bumper sticker read, "I love anthropology" and he was holding a bubble gun out the window!  He was shooting a stream of constant bubbles, and he gave me a good laugh while creeping through traffic tonight.