PeaceNext...Intimate...Self-Disclosure...

     During the 1960s, long before the advent of the World Wide Web, and social media, my parents involved our family in a foreign exchange program of social workers--the Twin Cities International Program--TCIP.  Mom and Dad served as a host family to Knut from Denmark, Ilsa from Austria, Jun Bok from South Korea, and a man, whose name I believe was Daniel.  These three  men and one woman stayed with us during four years before I was ten.  Knut seemed old to me, although he was probably 50:) Mature may be a more apt description than old.  He was tall with balding light brown hair.   I remember he gave me a book of Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales.  I think Mom and Dad still have the book.  It has been many years since I have read the book.  It is fairly small book with an ivory cover, and a picture on the front cover.  Then there was Ilsa.  Her father carved wood.  Mom and Dad still have a shallow wooden plate with the names of my parents, my brother, sister, and me, carved around the edge.  My parents have it mounted on the wall at the top of the bookshelves in their library.  I can think of no more treasured symbol of our family.  I do not remember much about Daniel, other than that he was from Italy.  Jun Bok.  Ah yes, Jun Bok.  He was a borderline operator--definitely a character.  He gave my parents at least one bottle of tabasco sauce.  More memorable was his observation of my dad trying to assemble a new Weber grill.  Dad  was having the difficulty inherent to any item with the instructions, "Some assembly required."  After watching Dad struggle for quite some time, Jun Bok said, "American technology.  Nothing works."  Jun Bok returned to South Korea many years ago.  I do not know what has happened to him.  Yet his words live on in my memory.
     Each of the individuals we hosted, in addition to individuals from all around the world--not just Europe and Asia--who visited our home and attended a number of pool parties my parents hosted broadened my childhood horizons.  Although I have not kept up with any of the individuals--a sad reality of life--I do bring from that experience openness to, and individuals from other countries.
    I treasure the perspectives I have been given when I have spent time with individuals from other countries while at home, or when I have visited other countries.  I will always remember with great fondness the conversations I had with a number of individuals from Norway while I spent nine days as a graduate school course.  The  Norwegians I met apologized to me  for their poor English speaking skills.  Such was not the case.  My understanding of Norwegian was rudimentary at best.  Yet, my love of the country--the fjords, the brisk air--is difficult to describe.
    Now I find my connections to individuals in other countries through the World Wide Web--through e-mail, and social media.  A skeptical eye is given to  social media.  I would warn against brandishing all social media outlets on the basis of how some individuals on some sites choose to use the sites.
    PeaceNext.  I am an incorrigible pacifist.  Some say pacifist is synonymous with weakness, in a pejorative sense.  I beg to differ.  My interest in ecumenism led me to the PeaceNext website.  The subtitle following the "PeaceNext" website title says, "Council for a Parliament of World Religions."
    How, as someone raised to believe that there is good to be found in all world religions, could I pass up the opportunity to explore a network committed to integrity in nurturing constructive dialogue.  Slowly I find myself open to friendship from around the world.
    Some hesitate to engage in online networks of any form due to concerns for security, or personal disclosure.  Others hesitate to engage in discussions of religion--it is too personal.  Well....On one level--on an intellectual level--I understand.  I respect the right of other individuals to not so engage.
   Yet....yet....I cannot follow suit.  It was not until this moment that I understood why.  I am not a Bible-thumping woman on the street corner trying to force beliefs down people's throats.  I try to be more subtle than that.
    Long before I understood the intellectual nuances--the spiritual dimension--of engaging in social communities rooted in integrity, such as PeaceNext, I was confronted with the reality of bodily engagement.  Not physical combat.  No.  Misunderstanding of my bent right arm, and my limping right leg led my peers to tease me.  Kids mimicking my bent right wrist of my face was, "Palsy Patty."  I was called to make myself understood--to make myself palatable in the eyes of people who met me.
    No one may endanger me.  My exterior is deceiving.  As my sister says of me, "I don't worry about Patty out on the streets, I worry about the people who encounter her."
     My life calls me to unequivocal self-disclosure.  If I do not share of myself--if I do not reach out to other people-what am I living to do?  I am called to find opportunities, such as PeaceNext, and other in-person, and online forums for the sharing of diverse perspectives dedicated to deeper understanding, and transformation.

ADLs: Activities of Daily Living

     The term activities of daily living, or ADLs, refers to the basic tasks of everday life, such as  eating, bathing, dressing, toileting, and transferring.  When people are unable to perform these activities, they need help in order to cope, either from human beings, or mechanical devices.
         Measuring the Activities of Daily Living:  A Comparison Across National Surveys
         Joshua M. Wiener, and Raymond J. Hanley, The Brookings Institution; Robert Clark, and Joan F. Van Nostrand, U.S. Department of Education 
     I was paralyzed.  EAT. FEED YOURSELF WITH FOOD THAT HAD BEEN PREPARED FOR YOU. VOLUNTARY BLADDER AND BOWEL CONTROL OR ABILITY TO MAINTAIN A  REASONABLE LEVEL OF PERSONAL HYGIENE.  BATHE (TUB, SHOWER, OR SPONGE.)  TRANSFER FROM BED TO CHAIR.
     I was paralyzed.  These words screamed out--pierced my eardrums.  Though still able to perform these tasks with some adaptive devices, the day I could not perform any of these skills came into focus.  Though not imminent, a potent image nonetheless.
     Breathe in....breathe out...breathe in....breathe out...
     Stark are the activities of daily living on paper before my eyes--they were then, they remain so.  Before assessing these activities, my pierced ears must be muffled.  My jangled nerves quieted. My tight stomach calm.
     Eat.  Feed yourself with food that had been prepared for you.  Voluntary bladder and bowel control  or ability to maintain a reasonable level of personal hygiene.  Bathe (tub, shower, or sponge.)  Transfer from bed to chair.
     A scale.  Rate myself.  Simple.  Or so it seemed.  Straightforward.  Or so it seemed.
     1.  I can perform this activity regularly.  2.  I can perform this activity with the use of equipment or adaptive device.  3.  I cannot perform this activity.
     The activities of daily living are the province of a child to learn.  I am an adult.  Diminishment is the province of senior citizens to accept.  It is a realistic expectation that senior citizens should need equipment or adaptive devices.  It is within reason to watch someone else confront diminishment.  Senior citizens learn that they "cannot perform this activity."  Or so it seems.  Yet, I am not a senior citizen.  I am 51.
     Were these my only choices?  Could I take an essay test?  A multiple choice test of a life lived proving false the truths set before me to live.  Yet, those were my choices.

Free Speech and Name-Calling

     Just now, someone commented on the burning of the Koran.  Evidently, on April 18, 2011, Andrew Ryan--a former English soldier--was sentenced to 70 days in jail for burning the Koran.  The commentator said that he understood, and defended the right of free speech, yet, something to effect that this idiot needed to be stopped from his action of burning the Koran.
     I do believe in the freedom of religion.  As a citizen of the United States, I did not face any action from the American government--state, federal, or local--when I changed my religious affiliation from Universalism/Unitarianism to Christianity.  When I joined the Catholic Church, I did not fear any adverse action from the government.  Concerns I had with regard to my actions--my affirmations--related to individuals, not to the government of my native land.
     I do believe in freedom of speech.  I am enriched by sharing ideas with people, whose ideas differ from my own.  If we are open to being enlightened, both of us will grow from the free exchange of ideas.  I am a native-born U.S. citizen.  I have never been faced with the choice of affirming my allegiance to a country external to my birth.  So, in some ways, I feel less qualified to speak as someone who appreciates fully the right to speak freely--to speak freely without suffering retribution from my government.  Technology is a partner with freedom of speech that makes this blog, and many other blogs viable forms of expression.  I do appreciate that opportunity.  No, it is a guilty pleasure:)
     Yet, as strong as my commitment is, I cannot reconcile the acceptability of name-calling.  I abhor it.  No amount of commitment to free religious belief, or free speech gives license to any name-calling.  It just doesn't.   Whether the name-calling be done to the face of the individual or group being targeted, neither is acceptable.  Neither form of name-calling is moral, just, ethical, or humane.  Many people refer to respect for life, and never consider name-calling to be subject to standards of human decency.   I am a very open-minded, reasonable, and rational individual.  I am open to compromise on most everything else.  Yet, name-calling is not open to compromise.   If I arrive at the precipice of name-calling, then I am being called to make amends with the soon-to-be target of any name-calling.
     If I were to resort to name-calling, then I would be missing the opportunity to transform my venom into passionate advocacy for an issue or individual being denigrated.  I cannot commit myself to name-calling.  I cannot avoid opportunities to serve as an advocate.

A Temple? A Broken Body?

Or, do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and  that you are not your own?
                                             1 Corinthians 6:19
    I fail miserably as someone who can quote the Bible chapter and verse from cover to cover.  That is not my aspiration, at least not for the sole purpose of making such a claim.  Yet, I do listen each Sunday to the words spoken, and for the messages intended for my ears to hear.  Though the Catholic liturgy revisits the same readings in three-year cycles, I never meet the readings as the same person with the same ears.
    In recent days, two concepts central to being Christian are clashing--calling for some sort of reconciliation that I do not recognize sufficient to utter it.  I must confess, I may be taking the words too literally.  I hope not.  I pray I will be called on it, if I am.  I would rather understand than be right, if those are my choices.  But, I do not want to forgo the blessing of being enlightened because I was afraid of what literal translations call me to do, or how to act.
     What are the two clashing concepts?  Listen.  "...your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God."  Now, the breaking of the Body of Christ, being broken--being willing to be vulnerable to each of one's life moments....that is our call.
     How do "your body is a temple," and "being broken" reconcile?  Am I taking temple and being broken too literally?  Am I trying to make apply to everyone else what I am confronting?  Probably.  Am I mistaken?  Maybe.  Is the question worth asking?  Is the reconciliation between your body is a temple and a broken body possible?  Is it worthy of seeking?

Dependence's Reconciliation

     What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
     I have never been good at reconciliation--my bank account--my physical needs.  Neither have been my strengths.  I had a strong inner sense of both balances.  My bank balance has been more stable than my physical balance.  I knew the limits of both--or so I thought--so, I did not waste my anxiety on balance--on those balances.  I lived within my means--or so I thought.
     Ray--I am too young to be called "Grandpa"--spoke treasured words to me in the last years of his life.  My grandmother having died, Ray lived with us.  Listening to this beloved storyteller share his life experiences, I knew the younger alterego of this shy man had quite a temper.  He had deeply ingrained stereotypes not softened by age.  So, his words are all the more treasured.  "When I die, don't feel sad.  I have made amends with everyone I had differences with.  Ray was no scholar.  But, Ray was brilliant in his understanding of reconciliation.  I try to live by Ray's words.  Yet, I do better in reconciling with others than I do in reconciling with my self--with my body.
      My physical balance is changing.  My stamina long gone, my physical balance demands my attention.  I am called to reconcile my life's accounting--my balance of independence at one end of the teeter totter and dependence at the other end.  I have tried to brace myself for the radical changes that lay ahead.  Literally, I brace myself from my foot to my calf--you could say that I am on the right side of bracing myself.  I am physically.  Time will tell whether I am on the right side of bracing myself fully for the future.
    Physical balance demands putting one foot in front of the other.  Physical balance demands deliberation of movement.  Balanced living demands of me now deliberation of mind.
    Yesterday's step toward balance was to answer the second of three questions. "What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?"  
    My question's posing was to an independent contractor, whose product and services I was seeking.  I accepted that he had the mechanical knowledge I needed.  I presumed that to be enough to meet our mutual needs.  Yet, I was surprised to be told that I did not need to do a certain task.  He  seemed to dismiss my need.  Would the electric wheelchair enable me to open doors, get through my bedroom door, most notably?  I know my weakness for defensiveness.  I tried to disrobe myself of any defensiveness.
     I am willing to hear that I may not be able to accomplish a given task--perform a given maneuver--with this machine--with this alien entering my life.  I may not like the answer I am given.  But, I must ask the question if I am to be able to accommodate my life to a changing body.  I must receive answers.
     I may not be able to be independent as I have known myself to be for 50 years.  Yet, if I am to proceed with any semblance of independence, even if I am not, I need to know.  If all independence is taken from me, I need to know so that I make other arrangements to live differently.  For now, all of my independence is not being taken from me.  Yet, I do need to have as much information as possible to allow me to do a different form of life planning than I ever imagined.  I did not have a full appreciation of the partnership--the co-conspiratorial relationship between cerebral palsy and aging.  I could put my head in the sand.  I could ignore--deny---the issues, considerations, and questions that my future may call me to address.  But, I cannot fixate myself--every day's breath--with anxiety regarding what is to come.  I am called to acknowledge what I may not like now, while I have such a deep sense of love and support from family, friends, a worshiping community surrounding me.
      What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?