Listening to more coverage of the ever-changing events in Egypt, I am struck by one word.
Sanction.
The word, "sanction," is not new to a diplomat, who might be exploring possible responses to events in Egypt. What the possible choices are is not important here. That is not my point.
In situations of civil unrest, for lack of a better term, we are critical of those who do not share our democratic ideals. We are critical of how they communicate. Yet, I think our own language--American English--provides food for thought.
Whenever I hear the word, "sanction," I am struck by what sanction means. Grammatically, "sanction" can be either a noun, or a verb. As a noun, it is said that sanction was first used in the 1560s to mean, "confirmation or enactment of a law," from L. sanctionem (nom. sanctio).
Yet, we do not hold true to the meaning of sanction today. We speak of imposing sanctions as a negative action--a punishment--for some misstep that has been taken. In so speaking, we are not saying that we are "imposing the conformation or enactment of a law."
Sanction is used as a verb, as well. We sanction events. We sanction competitions. Both are positive statements asserting support.
I am not an apologist for Egypt. Yet, as we criticize how another society--another political leader--communicates, we need to understand some of the ways we communicate more clearly. If we listen to the words we use in our daily lives, and life as a society, then we are more prepared to understand, and communicate with other people.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
My Body's Betrayal
My right ankle is my Achilles' heel.
Ambushed by osteoarthritis, my right ankle refuses to allow an agile living--or so is the feat she tries to accomplish in me. Today, I am being offered a deeper understanding of betrayal--physical betrayal.
Physical betrayal? Yes. Betrayal is not limited to human interaction. Betrayal is alive and well in physical form.
Physical betrayal has two layers: acute, and chronic.
Acute physical betrayal is the sharp deviation of physical health from what is normal for a given individual. For me, last year, acute physical betrayal was sharp pain caused by bone spurs in my right ankle.
Chronic physical betrayal is the ongoing deviation from what is considered to be normal physical health. Once again, this year, my chronic physical betrayal is my Achilles' heel--my arthritic ankle. It is not sharp, unabated pain. It is stripped physical stamina, that is the physical betrayal with which I interact.
Physical betrayal requires negotiation toward a new agreement--a negotiation from which emerges a new way of living. Physical betrayal requires ongoing negotiation, not a one-time arbitration of grievances. Such would be wonderful! Such is not reality.
For me, that has meant compromise, and accommodation.
In recognition of my ankle's way of being, I am slower in my immediate speed of movement, and more deliberate in my pace of living. Most importantly, I listen--with a keen ear, I listen. I craft probing questions to ask--of my self, and of my ankle.
Of my self, I ask, "What is most important to me that I do? What gives me joy? What am I willing to do to do what is most important? What am I willing to do to make joy possible--not guaranteed, but, possible?"
Of my ankle, I ask, "What must I do? How much may I do? If I dare not to submit to your betrayal of me, how much may I do without compromise--without accommodation to you?"
My accommodations to you? First and foremost, I address you by name. I know you are a part of me on which I stand--on which I live. Second, I give you support. For now, I give you a brace--an ankle foot orthotic.
Beyond my willingness to compromise is my mental and spiritual health. My mind--my mental well-being-and spiritual being-demands that I strive for more.
I am not alone in needing to acknowledge physical betrayal. I sure hope not. I am the lucky devil for whom physical betrayal is more pronounced--easier to recognize.
I thought that I understood the terrain of accommodation. Last year, I learned that my ankle would not support my old way of living. My ankle placed demands on me. I engaged doctors in partnership toward diagnosis, and healing.
Yet, with bone spurs debrided, my mind cries out for equal time. I partner with orthotists, and insurance companies, and medical vendors to be given wheels to roll outside my ankle's limits on my feet.
Easy though it may be to do, I cannot surrender to the question of, "What is it--what activity--that I am trying to trip over my ankle to do?" I have come frighteningly close to doing so.
I am not my life's guarantor. I must resist being resistant, fierce, or defiant. I must not be submissive. I must not be a victim. My body's betrayal will continue. Her speed of acceleration is not mine to know. I must be willful without being defiant.
Ambushed by osteoarthritis, my right ankle refuses to allow an agile living--or so is the feat she tries to accomplish in me. Today, I am being offered a deeper understanding of betrayal--physical betrayal.
Physical betrayal? Yes. Betrayal is not limited to human interaction. Betrayal is alive and well in physical form.
Physical betrayal has two layers: acute, and chronic.
Acute physical betrayal is the sharp deviation of physical health from what is normal for a given individual. For me, last year, acute physical betrayal was sharp pain caused by bone spurs in my right ankle.
Chronic physical betrayal is the ongoing deviation from what is considered to be normal physical health. Once again, this year, my chronic physical betrayal is my Achilles' heel--my arthritic ankle. It is not sharp, unabated pain. It is stripped physical stamina, that is the physical betrayal with which I interact.
Physical betrayal requires negotiation toward a new agreement--a negotiation from which emerges a new way of living. Physical betrayal requires ongoing negotiation, not a one-time arbitration of grievances. Such would be wonderful! Such is not reality.
For me, that has meant compromise, and accommodation.
In recognition of my ankle's way of being, I am slower in my immediate speed of movement, and more deliberate in my pace of living. Most importantly, I listen--with a keen ear, I listen. I craft probing questions to ask--of my self, and of my ankle.
Of my self, I ask, "What is most important to me that I do? What gives me joy? What am I willing to do to do what is most important? What am I willing to do to make joy possible--not guaranteed, but, possible?"
Of my ankle, I ask, "What must I do? How much may I do? If I dare not to submit to your betrayal of me, how much may I do without compromise--without accommodation to you?"
My accommodations to you? First and foremost, I address you by name. I know you are a part of me on which I stand--on which I live. Second, I give you support. For now, I give you a brace--an ankle foot orthotic.
Beyond my willingness to compromise is my mental and spiritual health. My mind--my mental well-being-and spiritual being-demands that I strive for more.
I am not alone in needing to acknowledge physical betrayal. I sure hope not. I am the lucky devil for whom physical betrayal is more pronounced--easier to recognize.
I thought that I understood the terrain of accommodation. Last year, I learned that my ankle would not support my old way of living. My ankle placed demands on me. I engaged doctors in partnership toward diagnosis, and healing.
Yet, with bone spurs debrided, my mind cries out for equal time. I partner with orthotists, and insurance companies, and medical vendors to be given wheels to roll outside my ankle's limits on my feet.
Easy though it may be to do, I cannot surrender to the question of, "What is it--what activity--that I am trying to trip over my ankle to do?" I have come frighteningly close to doing so.
I am not my life's guarantor. I must resist being resistant, fierce, or defiant. I must not be submissive. I must not be a victim. My body's betrayal will continue. Her speed of acceleration is not mine to know. I must be willful without being defiant.
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