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Thursday, January 30, 2014

Newcomers vs Locals

Still thinking about how newcomers change a local environment, I was reminded of my small town in New Hampshire. Temple, NH was a picture post card town. There was pretty much nothing there that didn't fit into a classic description of quaint, scenic, peaceful. The town had about 650 people. That was about the same number that was recorded on the sign on the Women and Children Cemetery during the Revolutionary war.

Even so, one of the great discussions at the annual town meeting was how to deal with the population growth. But, they clearly didn't mean population growth, they meant newcomers. I was one. Even after I held elected offices in Temple I was a newcomer. Even after I made the town famous with my story in Readers Digest, I was one.

I got a tax bill after I bought a house and I was shocked by it. The house was a little cabin on a little quarry in the middle of 32 acres of woods. The house was mostly a log cabin, but the not log cabin part was sided with bark. It was built around two pine trees, one of which was still alive. The house, in fact, was alive. Quite a lot of chewing going on in the wood by night.

So, I got this tax bill which kind of shocked me. It took me about two weeks to find the town clerk. She really didn't like to be bothered. I showed her the bill and kind of filled my face with a big question mark. She looked me over a while and then ripped it up. I asked her what the deal was and she allowed as how she would change the bill. I had been billed at the rate of rich summer folks and now that I lived there, it wouldn't be a problem any more.

As long as I lived there, however, it was called Frances Day's house. (the rich summer folk). But the new comer problem showed up in different ways. Some crusty old farmer who owned a property with a fine hill had rigged up a rope tow so the local kids could ski after school, right there, right in town. Some newcomers got all alarmed about safety and demanded that he improve different things. Then they thought he should carry some big liability insurance. Then he dismantled the thing and a fifty year old tradition ended.

We had cows out to pasture on the town commons. This had probably been going on since the 1,600s. This one feisty cow got loose every once in a while. The old timers just shooed her back. No big deal. The newcomers (myself most certainly excluded) called up the farmer all freaked out. A cow for God's sake! One Christmas morning when we lived in the old parsonage in the middle of town, we were relaxing by the fire before packing up to drive to Connecticut and we hear a gun shot right near the house. This is not a common thing in that town. The kids bundled up and went out in the two feet of snow to find the cow shot dead in the commons.

The poor thing had escaped once more and tried to eat some greenery on some newcomers yard and, well, we couldn't have that.

Mostly we got along very well. Our town paid for plowing every one's driveway. At least the first five hours of every town meeting were occupied by a discussion of this. You see, in the old days the roads went right in front of the houses and the barns were right next to the houses. This was because it was fucking freezing in the winter and because the purpose of a road was to get farm stuff to market. So, the meeting always started with someone saying that all the newcomers built their houses as far from each other as they could and why should the tax payers pay for such idiocy. I hid my face. My driveway was a mile and a half long, full of curves and hills and too narrow. A big pain for the tax burden. After about five hours and this being the first thing on the agenda, someone would get up and say,"We have always done this plowing and we are still going to do it so why don't we all shut up." And that, miraculously was the end of that.

I am experiencing a heavier push pull between the locals and the demands of the expats here. It should still be cheap and it should still have flavor, but it should also have all the conveniences of home. My friend Karen wrote her observations of the current scene here:


"I spent the last three weeks with my friend in Granada, a low key Spanish colonial style town, forty five minutes from the capital of Nicaragua, Managua. It lies a stone’s throw away from the mighty Lake Cocibolca, or Lake Nicaragua as it is called in English. It’s favored by Managuans and tourists alike for its cooling breezes. On weekends folks from the capital arrive in great numbers to sit by the lake and enjoy the local restaurants, many offering diverse cuisine that caters to visitors. These restaurants are mostly run by foreigners. 
Granada has increasingly become a haunt for expats from northern climates, notably Canada, for its warm and at times very hot, tropical weather and the still inexpensive cost of living. Many of these transplants have arrived via Costa Rica, which they feel has become too expensive, overrun by Americans and therefore not as Central American in character as they would like. Some get involved in bettering the lives of local children through after school tutoring, teaching circus and hammock making skills or providing free medical care in outlying villages and underserved areas of towns and cities. They learn Spanish and have Nicaraguan friends. Others stay rather separate and have a fundamentally untrusting attitude to the Nicaraguans, though they are quick to employ them for maid and garden services. Yet others I met come short term from southern U.S. states to “tell the people about Jesus” as one little Texan girl explained to me when I met her in one of the hotels that caters to large groups from abroad. Other Texan men –some ex CIA – sit around for morning coffee and complain about all the damage Obama has done to the homeland.

The local people I met, many of whom were known to my friend from her long term visits to Granada in the past, were warm and friendly and appreciated that I spoke Spanish. My friend has experienced much kindness from them in the past when she was at times in need of help. All advised us to watch our purses, take taxis at night and to lock up our houses well.  This we certainly did, but no more than in other countries I’ve visited in central and South America. When all is said and done, we do have so much more materially than do the local people, so how can we complain that some want to rob us?

The vegetation in the many beautiful interior courtyards of Granada and outside of town is very reminiscent of the plants I’m familiar with from Hawaii: banana trees, coconut and travelers palms, heliconias, wild ginger, bougainvillias and bromeliads; many of them magnified outdoor versions of familiar green houseplants. The architecture of grand establishments near the center of town is not revealed until you step inside the imposing tall wooden doors that face the street. Inside you enter extremely high ceilinged, tile floored, cloister-like walkways, open to a central courtyard that is filled with exuberant tropical greenery planted around a fountain or pool. The roofs are covered with red Mediterranean tiles; the ceilings are made of varnished cane stalks and supported by slender wooden columns. The kitchens and many of the living spaces are not closed off from the open patio, so the warm breezes waft in and out, assisted by many ceiling fans that keep the air circulating. The front door is usually covered by a wrought iron grill which allows the doors to be opened for still more air currents to enter. In our traditional building, only the bedrooms were walled off, their doors and windows opening into the interior.

A memorable sound in Granada is the clip clop of horses trotting along the straight and narrow streets. Near the central park, which lies in the shadow of a large mustard yellow cathedral and surrounded by arcaded hotels, lean and hardy little animals pull gaily decorated carriages which carry tourists around town. In addition, simple, two-wheeled horse-drawn carts transport everything from feed to furniture. Gas is much more expensive than in the U.S. so carts, bicycles, mopeds, public buses and collective taxis are the preferred means of transportation. Friends who rented a small car were thrilled by how empty the roads are, except of course when a herd of sleek and dreamy Brahmin cattle are being led on their way to or from pasture. They can certainly slow you down but what’s the rush!

Looming above the lake and south of Granada is Mombacho volcano, its head mostly in the clouds. One day we drove up its steep flanks in a noisy but efficient truck filled with rows of hard benches. Halfway up we stopped at a coffee plantation where we were treated to quite tasty shade grown coffee, grown mostly for export. Near the edge of the crater we walked in a thick mist on slippery wet paths around the vegetation filled crater. Just below the cloud cap we put our hands into steamy, warm fumaroles and enjoyed a great view north that took in Lake Managua and a cluster of islands just below us to the East. These Isletas supposedly were formed by an old eruption of Mombacho – a now greenery covered reminder of what the mountain is capable of when awakened. To the west of Granada, a crater lake called Laguna de Apoyo, was also visible. The following day we visited American friends who are renting a charming house low on the shady slope of that lagoon, close to the shore. After a lunch overlooking the crater, we spent enjoyable time swimming in the warm and mineral rich waters.

Early in my stay we took a boat ride out to the small Isletas near Granada. Many of them are owned by gringos and wealthy Nicaraguans with names associated with rum, sugar plantations and Nica politics.  There’s usually space for no more than one residence, a boathouse and servants quarters, though we did see one island that housed a restaurant. Some were for sale, so if you’re looking to buy an island . . . . .  All visitors are shown the famous Mono Island where a congress of monkeys swings among the trees and one or two cautiously approached our small boat for a banana or two. There are no fruit trees on the tiny island so the animals are fed by the local community. I learned they were rescued from somewhere and brought to what has now become their sanctuary. Luckily they looked well fed and healthy. Close to the monkey island, our pilot pointed out a large kingfisher on a rock who when given a small piece of bread used it as bait to attract the many small fish that immediately rushed to the surface. We also saw fish hawks, herons, egrets and cormorants drying their feathers, wings extended. Altogether, a very peaceful and pleasant outing.
My longest trip beyond Granada took me overnight to a much larger island called Ometepe, nahuatl for “two mountains”, and situated a 45 minute drive south of Granada. Two large volcanoes, one active, the other dormant, formed the dumbbell shaped island centuries ago.  Archaeological finds there date as far back as 3000 B.C.  From the mainland port of San Jorge we had to take a colorful and rather alarmingly full ferry to reach Moyogalpa on the western side of the island. It was the fully loaded 18 wheeler on the car deck that made us wonder before deciding to proceed. The ferry agents assured us that the waves that were crashing onshore when we arrived were nothing compared to days on which ferry crossings are suspended, so we proceeded with our travel, setting aside any doubts we might have harbored. Although the choppy water lengthened the usually hour and a quarter crossing to two hours, we all travelled without incident or motion sickness to the other side. There we stayed in a tranquil inland eco retreat for $11 a night with splendid views of cloud shrouded Concepcion volcano and of the still animated lake a short distance away.
 Before retiring for the night we visited the much mentioned Ojo de Agua, a large pool constructed of lava rocks through which flowed pale blue water from within the Madera volcano. (That’s the dormant one.) When we paid our admission fee we were assured with a smile that bathing in these mineral rich waters would take 10 years off our age and sooth any aches and pains we had brought with us. Indeed, we did feel both refreshed and healed by the soft, clean water.
 Livestock and plantains seemed to be the main products of the island. The islanders live simply in dwellings constructed of thatch and wooden slats, a hammock swinging from the roof and a pig tethered by a rope out front.  Others were of an upgraded but less picturesque type made of concrete, which at night were lit by one central light bulb. Apparently electricity for the first light bulb is provided by the power company for free. Nicaragua is the poorest country in Central America and this is quite visible in the countryside. No doubt also in the outskirts of Managua and Granada, though we did not visit those areas, since they are not safe unless you are there at the invitation of one of the many organizations involved in those communities. There are many of these from overseas, from Scandinavia to Saudi Arabia, working to improve conditions for the population.
Daniel Ortega, the former Sandinista leader, is still in power. Locals refer to him as simply Daniel. Many I spoke to feel he hasn’t done enough to improve the lot of most Nicaraguans and are skeptical about how he is serving the country. This includes how they feel about his plans for a trans Nicaragua canal which would potentially provide much employment as well as an additional means for ships to cross the continent now that the Panama canal does not suffice. It is to be financed by a Chinese investor who has a reputation for never finishing projects that he starts.
Considering the very difficult history that the Nicaraguans have lived through in recent years and the slow recovery from this, people in Granada at least seemed cheerful enough on the surface and want to move on beyond the bad memories of war. It seems some Granada citizens have benefited from the growing influx of tourists. I hope that influx will continue to be of help rather than only of benefit to some foreigners in the end. If I lived there longer, I’d certainly want to be involved in an activity that would in some way compensate for the warm hospitality extended by the friendly Nicaraguans. I’d also like to get to know them and their country better sometime in the future."
Posted by JulieFPierce at 8:03 PM No comments:
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Tuesday, January 28, 2014

How other countries must envy our enlightened country.



I want to mention once again a brilliant talk I attended given by a rabbi. I can't remember his name. His discourse was on one of the traditional questions in Judaism. "Which is the most important commandment?" His argument was that it was "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain." is the most powerful.

His point was that to do evil and call it God's work or Christ's will is the greatest sin of all. We can all think of historical examples of this. We can also see many current examples. Is this the inevitable result of fundamentalism? Is fundamentalism a result of fear of losing control?

The following from The Daily Kos

 here's a fascinating -- and by fascinating, I mean appalling -- case that the ACLU is filing on behalf of a local family, against a Louisiana school district and several officials/teachers. The family suffered a tremendous litany of unconstitutional behaviors directed against them, but they are perhaps best represented by the words of plaintiff Scott Lane, husband of plaintiff Sharon Lane, father of plaintiffs S.L and M.L, and stepfather of plaintiff C.C. He gives examples of some of the issues his Buddhist stepson encountered, and the disregard for constitutional separation of church and state is simply staggering:
   On a science test, their teacher had included a fill-in-the-blank question: "ISN'T IT AMAZING WHAT THE _____ HAS MADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" When my stepson didn't know the answer ("Lord"), she belittled him in front of the entire class. When he wrote in "Lord Buddha" on another exam, she marked it wrong. As she was returning that exam to students, one student proclaimed aloud that "people are stupid if they think God is not real." In response, my stepson's teacher agreed, telling the class, "Yes! That is right! I had a student miss that on his test." The entire class broke out in laughter at my stepson.
    The same teacher also told our children that the Bible is "100 percent true," that the Earth was created by God 6,000 years ago, and that evolution is "impossible" and a "stupid theory made up by stupid people who don't want to believe in God." She's also told the class that Buddhism is "stupid." (emphasis added)
While this particular teacher, Rita Roark, was especially problematic, Lane gives a number of other examples of the general atmosphere of the school, including that of defendant and school superintendent Sara Ebarb:
       When we went to the school to meet with the principal, we saw a large picture of Jesus over the school's main doors, a Bible verse on the school's electronic marquee, and numerous religious posters and pictures on the walls. Religious images and messages are displayed throughout the school, in fact.
        We learned from our children that official prayers, typically led by the principal or teachers, are routinely incorporated into class and school events like assemblies, and sporting events. The school even requires students to attend "See You at the Pole" each year, where they must take part in prayer and worship.
        We discovered that school officials were distributing religious literature to students. For example, one of our other son's teachers passed out copies of a book from the "Truth For Youth" program, a revivalist ministry. The book included the entire New Testament of the Bible as well as cartoons that denounce evolution and trumpet the evils of birth control, premarital sex, rock music, alcohol, pornography, homosexuality, sorcery, and witchcraft. (emphasis added)
Supporting evidence is provided. But the embrace of religiosity and disregard for constitutional protections goes much higher than teachers and event coordinators. When the Lanes took their complaints to the school superintendent, she told them
   that “[t]his is the Bible Belt” and that they would simply have to accept that teachers would proselytize students. She also asked whether C.C. had to be raised as a Buddhist and whether he could “change” his faith, and she suggested that C.C. transfer to another district school – more than 25 miles away where, in her words, “there are more Asians.” The day after meeting with the Lanes, the Superintendent sent a letter to Negreet Principal Gene Wright stating that she approved of Negreet’s official religious practices. Wright read the letter to the entire Negreet student body over the school’s public address system. (emphasis added)
The superintendent's complete lack of comprehension of religious freedom is made more clear in the complaint, which details how she told the Lanes
   that “[t]eachers have religious freedom.” She further stated that “if they were in a different country,” Plaintiffs would see “that country’s religion everywhere,” and that, therefore, they “shouldn’t be offended” to “see God here.” Purporting to illustrate her point further, she noted that, because she did not find it offensive that “the lady who cuts [her] toenails has a statue of Buddha,” Plaintiffs should not be bothered by Roark’s in-class proselytization.
In her mind, "freedom" is not a freedom to hold a belief, but a freedom to force others to hold that belief. The illogicality of such a position is made apparent when one considers what happens when you have people who hold different beliefs exercising this "freedom". Furthermore, Erbarb's response to the family -- that C.C. should go elsewhere, because he was in the Bible belt -- illustrates that her view of religious freedom is entirely one sided. It is not freedom, and it extends only to Christians. It is worth noting that, while C.C. did transfer, he is still subject to much of the same religious harassment. Even if that were not the case, it should go without saying that no child, and no family, should have to go half an hour out of their way each morning simply to avoid being harassed and intimidated -- much less by authority figures -- for praying to Lord Buddha (or not praying at all) rather than Lord Jesus.
And while C.C.'s troubles are not over, neither are those of his siblings (one of whom is a Christian):
   Plaintiffs S.L. and M.L. are minor children and brothers to C.C. They are both enrolled at Negreet High School, where they are subject to the customs, policies, and practices of Defendants Sabine Parish School Board, Superintendent Ebarb, and Principal Wright. Although M.L. attends church, he believes that faith is a personal matter. He believes that he should be able to decide, with the guidance of his parents and religious leaders, which beliefs he will follow and when, as well as how to express those beliefs, without pressure from his teachers and school officials. S.L. is a non-believer who does not subscribe to the religious beliefs promoted by schools officials.
It's simply mind boggling that adults would think that doing this to children was in any way appropriate, much less legal. Originally posted at Rachel's Hobbit Hole

Originally posted to Rachels Hobbit Hole (on Daily Kos) on Sun Jan 26, 2014 at 10:40 AM PST.

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Monday, January 27, 2014

Question! What does it mean to be an anthroposophist?

I have taught in a Waldorf school. I have studied Rudolf Steiner a bit at Emerson College, Sussex, England and some at the Waldorf Institute. But, I was asking myself what it would mean to call myself an anthroposophist. I call myself a Buddhist. For me that means I make my attempts to live with as much loving kindness as I can muster and I am so happy to hear words attributed to the Buddha. It is a path.

I was born a Catholic and have had some cool mystical experiences stimulated, I think, by my childhood teachings. I once called myself a Democrat but am no longer wishing to be that. I can not in good conscience be part of any war party.

The only card I have ever carried was as a member of Veterans for Peace. I am not a Vet, but they let me join. I really like what they stand for.

But would being an anthroposophist mean being a follower of Rudolf Steiner or a student of his words or would it mean being a spiritual scientist? Would that translate as "inspired by the example of RS?" or does one simple believe what he wrote? Is it a path or a religion or a club?

This is a real question. I am interested in your thoughts.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 6:25 PM No comments:
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Found it!




Wow! I am certain that this story has happened so very many times throughout history, but it is still a bit of a shock to be watching it unfold. So, finally Nicaragua is a known tourist and expat destination. This is no wonder because at the moment it is one of the relatively safe places with relatively great weather and is relatively inexpensive. And Granada and San Juan del Sur are the hot spots. And they are developing very fast. New hotels and restaurants are opening all the time. This is a very good year for tourism here.

The big conversation around town is about how expensive it is getting. This is most certainly relative. But what does anyone expect? People bring in the tourist dollars, expect everything they can get in a developed country and create a dual economy and then think they are getting ripped off when they have to pay for it.

It seems to be accepted wisdom that tourism is good for a poor country, but I wonder. Do most of the tourist dollars end up going back to the countries of origin? Higher prices for gringos translate into higher prices for locals when Nicaraguans can’t afford to buy houses in Granada anymore. This must be how these gringolandias happen. San Miguel de Allende, Antigua, Guatemala, locals are priced out. Of course this happens everywhere. Think Nantucket, MA. Think of pretty much any beach town anywhere.

Here it is so just happening right at this very moment, one can’t help but remark on it. Soon the Nica folks will be a cute show for the tourists instead of a living culture. Oh, I am not really afraid of this happening but I probably should be. When you hear gringos remark “Oh, it was so nice at the concert, a lot of Nicas were there.” it sets my teeth on edge. Ten years ago at the same concert, it was only Nicaraguans.

I am not complaining about the expense because I know I can go to any other town in the country and get everything for ¼ of the price. I also know that this place is beautiful and fun and I like it here. I like to have internet, I like to have good drinking water, I like the people of Nicaragua. I’m only complaining about the complaining. I think I need a consultation with the good Lamas in Thailand again. I never did get the email addresses of any Thai Lamas.

Speaking of Thai Lamas, I was talking to an expat who is a developer here. I told her I had been in Thailand. She said, and I quote, “I am so over Thailand, the tourists have ruined it” She said this with no sense of irony. Life is great. And I am rid of my amoebas.


Posted by JulieFPierce at 6:04 PM No comments:
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Frustration

I wrote what I thought was a fine blog tonite. I wrote it on Word because I can't get internet in my room at the lovely Hotel Limon in Granada, Nica. I don't know how to copy the document to the blog page. I feel so stupid. But the real thing is there is this woman in the living area where the internet works who has been on Skype for the last 14 hours and every day in the past days. I can not write while she is complaining to her friends in South Africa about the "natives" of Nicaragua.

I am certain that somehow this is a gift from God. But I can't see that yet.

I will either figure this out or move to a new house. I miss my blog and I miss you.


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Saturday, January 25, 2014

Morning/Mourning

I love the morning sounds here in Nica. Footsteps start along the road. The vegetable lady starts hawking her stuff, the birds, the rooster, the wind in the palm trees and a few cars racing past all signal the start of the new day. The fountain is still dripping and the sky, soundless except for the wind, screams blue. Another gorgeous day.

The Buddhist teachers tell us to start the day with the death meditation. Sounds morbid, but it is so not. "It is a new day. I am alive. I am grateful to be alive. I could die at any moment. This could be my last day of life. How do I want to live my last day? I want to be kind and loving to all sentient beings. I want to bring happiness to someone. I want to clear up anything that I don't want to carry over into my next life. I want to see beauty"

The death meditation fully understands that everything could disappear in an instant. Everyone we love could go away. We can't waste a precious moment on ugliness or creating pain for ourselves and others. This is show time. Now. Today.

My brother John is a Lutheran, but he seems to be a perfect Buddhist. He has Down's Syndrome. He remembers a lot, but he doesn't seem to put an emotional depth charge on memories. He begins each day with a smile. He seems very happy with whatever the day brings. When he misses our father, You can see the missing pass fleetingly over his face and then the smile when he says "Father is in Heaven." All is well.

Living in the present is always a huge challenge for everyone I know. We carry around great loads of old crap, more than any donkey could carry all day. While we must certainly grieve and mourn our losses, we also have the choice to be good Buddhists, or good Brother Johns and start each morning crowing like the rooster with our greeting to the new day and all the potential it carries.

Once again, I will share the image that Lama Marut gives of us running around holding hot coals in our hands yelling "ouch, ouch" to anyone who will listen. "How about", he asks, "dropping the coals and letting go of the pain?" Loss is painful. Loss of a loved one is hard. Loss of a friend for any reason is hard, but the night gives way to the morning and we can carpe diem all over again.




Posted by JulieFPierce at 5:31 AM 1 comment:
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Friday, January 24, 2014

Freedom from is differrent from freedom to. Our choice.

What does it mean to be able to count on a friend or family member? One way we know each other is knowing how the other person will react in a given situation. One measure of this is morality. I don't mean judgmental Old Testament morality based on punitive ideas like "An eye for an eye" kind of thinking. I guess I mean moral fiber. A friend is true to themselves.

If a person is dedicated to loving kindness, then that shows through all their deeds and words. If a person is loyal, they are first loyal to their own truth. One of the worst experiences we can endure is betrayal. In my experience, I can work on forgiveness (Forgiveness is for me. Forgiveness set me free), but I have lines that can not be crossed in my relationships with others.

My friends are extremely diverse, but the keepers are those whom I can trust to be solidly who they are. Making a mistake in a friendship can really hurt. Sometimes this happens in moments of infatuation. I was with a guy who had been involved with someone new before he broke off his current relationship three times before we got together. Guess what happened to us? He was consistent. I was blind.

I have been around people who have gotten into friendships pretty heavily when one or the other partner was an addict (or both were ) and then been deeply hurt when one partner has gotten healthy and the other has not. This has to happen and it has to hurt.When people are fucked up, they do fucked up things. There is a lot of hurt and a lot of betrayal. It is in the nature of things.

Our choice is in our understanding of what works for us. From my highly evolved heights, I now chose not to be with people who hurt me or others. Not to imply that people can't change, but to say that I have a choice in these matters. We can't be of service to the world if we are filled with anger and resentment. We can't bring joy when we can't find it in ourselves.

For me, it is a great blessing and a gift when another person sets me free by crossing my moral line in the sand. I can then focus on situations in which friends can be there for each other and bring out the best in each other during good times and difficult times.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 3:55 AM 1 comment:
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Wednesday, January 22, 2014

My annual Nicaragua rap.

It seems that each year I have to get this off my chest. Already this is a fucked up blog today because whenever someone says "I just have to say this", you  know that something unpleasant is coming. This is it: My country has done everything in its power to destroy Nicaragua for a very long time. Now I trip over nonprofits and church groups and NGO trying to teach the Nicaraguans how to do everything better. That pretty much means making things as much as possible like the shining light on the hill, America. The thing is that my feeling is that until we solve our problems at home, who are we to instruct others?

We have disastrous health care, massive underemployment, a gigantic jail problem, schools where the teachers can hardly read, nightmares of pollution, expensive wasteful fuel, horrible response to natural disasters such as Hurricane Katrina and corrupt politicians, loss of the middle class, foreign policy fiascoes, shall I go on? What is it that makes us think that we have much to teach those who's country we have raped of natural resources, imported GMOs, mined the harbors, supported repression?

I do not doubt the motives of many who come here. Something in the warmth and the solidity of the Nicaraguan people inspires many. But sometimes I just love the slowness of life here. I love the vegetable lady coming every morning rather than a drive to the market. I love the flexible prices. I love the fact that the vegetable lady can tell me whether this mango was picked yesterday or today and whether this avocado will still be good tomorrow. I like the slow life. I like having time to sit around and schmooze without everyone running off to appointments all the time. I don't think that my life in the USA is better or worse than life here. I respect that many Nicaraguans are not shop-o-holics.

Sometimes I have the sense that we could come here in humility and learn a lot about making life more sustainable and simple. There are big fancy hospitals and that is good, but if you cut your foot, almost anyone can grind a little something or get a little honey or clay and fix you up. I admire the independence from experts.

I do see the problems. I am not stupid. I have no desire to go native, but in most situations, I see teachers everywhere I look.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 10:52 AM No comments:
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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

New Bad Karma

Trying not to make any new bad karma sometimes makes me look like a softy. The deal seems to be about keeping eyes of compassion at all time.When I hear racist remarks, I feel angry. When I look at the racist, I often see fear and jealousy and a need to be better than others. Those are things I don't often experience. So, I can transmute my reaction into compassion. It must be terrible to feel fearful. When chief Joseph said "We will fight no more, forever." some thought he had caved in. I read that statement as he had a new powerful determination based on an understanding that fighting wasn't getting the result he desired.

The sense of superiority of North Americans when they scoff at the bribery system here (which is changing because of anti-corruption laws) completely ignores the colossally advanced system in the USA led by corporations, lobbyists, and the military industrial complex. The great crime of Edward Snowden was shining light on what is going on. We must make him the criminal, not the people he exposed.

Suddenly yesterday the Hotel Granada swimming pool was full of young people. Karen asked some kids what they were doing here, "We are teaching these people about Jesus." Funny concept in a Catholic country where everyone has a strong relationship to the Church. They are here to teach that the Catholic Church is evil, worships statues, that Christ was a blond blue eyed white bread, jello mold eating kind of guy who hates Muslims, and thinks everyone should carry a gun and so on. The Nicaraguans call it "The Third Conquest" First the Spanish, then the USA, then the Evangelicals.

Chauvez is dead. The price of fuel has gone up. The new pope is awakening many to new thought. The under the radar activities like human traffic sales are coming into the light. Things are changing and changing fast.

In Thailand, I was let down my hair and felt very free. It is fun to be anonymous. It is fun to have shining peaceful Buddhas everywhere to remind one of the possible perfection of man. The glorious, joyful images of inner peace were uplifting

It is an adjustment to see images of Christ suffering on the cross everywhere. It is uplifting to see the Holy Mother who is so beloved here. It is weird to see the evangelicals trying to do away with the lovely statues. I grew up Catholic and never worshiped a statue. I love statues of Buddha but do not worship the statue and I even understand that The Buddha statue is not the God.

Here it is confusing. And it is very unclear who is funding these kids. Very likely the Koch brothers. The motivations are buried. We need an Eduard Snowden right here right now.

I am practicing the practice of loving the sinner and detesting the sin and not getting involved in much of anything. All this being said, I am content here now and each time I come back, The standard of living seems to be improving for all. Can we say this about our own country?  Have we whipped the pollution problem? Have we whipped the food problems? I, once again, think we first need to clean our own house before we 'instruct' others on how to live.


Posted by JulieFPierce at 6:50 AM 1 comment:
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Saturday, January 18, 2014

What you see is what you get...

At least that is my conceit. I think of myself as sort of a blunt, not very subtle woman. If I don't like something, I say so. Some of you may recollect my relationship with my backpack when I was walking the Camino. I hated it and rarely missed an opportunity to say so. If I really like a person, I am apt to say, "I like you so much! You are wonderful."

But life is teaching me that things aren't always as they appear. 41 years ago for some very odd reasons that I won't go into, we ended up living in Battleground, Indiana,  USA. We were big old post hippie hippies. We rented with a friend. The straight laced yokels in the town thought we had something 'strange' going on because we had two men, one woman, and children. It was hard to find a rental because of our 'bizarre' arrangement. When we did finally rent the most prominent house in town at the top of the fancy street, I heard whispers.

The local redneck, right wing, born again people probably accepted us more than we did them. The biggest festival in Battleground was celebrating the Indian Massacre that happened there. I thought it was all pretty sick. But as these God fearing, jello making, Bible thumping church folks started accepting these grazed hippies, my husband started getting invited to basement booze and poker games where the crowning feature was showing and trading pornographic movies.

I was shocked. They probably would have shot me if I pulled out a joint, but guns, and prostitutes, and porn and Big Bibles were all fine. The KKK was still happy there then. The thing is that going to Southeast Asia and then to Nicaragua brings this all back...and more. Everywhere I have traveled people first try to figure out whether I have a connection with the CIA. Poor people in other countries know much more about the CIA than almost any US citizen unless that citizen has worked for the military or the 'secret agencies" or been a mercenary.

The stuff going on in Okinawa today with the residents trying to get the US military bases out of their Island brings this to light. We killed about 200,000 civilians in order to pacify Okinawa and we have had military bases there since WW11. The people who survived seem to be tired of the violence, rapes, murders, drugs, prostitution that we have imported for all this time. How can this be?

Daily in Nica, we hear whispers of troubles all the time. The whispers I hear are not about Nica problems but expat stuff. Tomorrow I'll tell you some of the stories that have me  befuddled. Right now I have to put my instinct to fairly heavy use to keep my feet on the ground. My natural instinct is to trust that people are who they say they are. What I am learning is take that with a grain of salt.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 8:45 AM 1 comment:
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Wednesday, January 15, 2014

This prayer thing.

My friend Sonja is a few hours away from having surgery for colon cancer. All her wonderful friends are sending prayers for her. What else can we offer? But Sonja and I were picturing the prayers like the Tower of Babel. Some people are praying for her recovery, some for her to to avoid pain, some for her to go peacefully, some for courage, some for themselves, and some for God's will to be done.

If you believe in God, won't God's will be done no matter what you pray for? Is the switchboard getting clogged up there? Are the prayers just to help us feel better in a situation that is already in the play? I like praying. I like praying some of the oldies but goodies. I love the "Hail Mary", I like the "Lord's Prayer". I like  the Buddhist "Gate, gate....". I like the 23 Psalm. Mostly, I like them because I feel the positive spirits coming near me when I turn towards the light.

I will be one of the folks praying for Sonja this morning. I have decided just to try and connect my heart to her big generous heart. She is planning on reciting the 23rd Psalm on her way into the operating theater. I will join her in that. I have no idea what the best outcome would be. But wherever she is, I hope she feels bathed in the good will of all of us. When you get down to it, I agree with myself that it is the intention that counts in our spiritual endeavors, not the form.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 6:31 AM 1 comment:
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Monday, January 13, 2014

Gaining Merit

One corner of Buddhist practice that has me fascinated is the action of gaining merit. I am only understanding this at a beginners level. I really 'get' the Catholic deal of Heaven and Hell and confession and the redeeming power of the sacraments. If I commit a sin, go to confession, do a penance and experience forgiveness, the slate is wiped clean. So, I try to obey then Ten Commandments. I try to walk the strait and narrow because of fear of eternal damnation. There are a few heavy stumbling blocks. We are born with original sin and have to get that fixed up right away.

In my cosmology, original sin isn't too far away from karmic debt. We incarnate carrying into this life our karma from previous lives. I can't imagine not having had the experience of feeling "I know this person." when meeting someone new or "I've been here before" when visiting a new place. I've had these experiences frequently. I call them my "here we go again' experiences. These can be either joyful or miserable. Believe me, you can be born with great karma as well as crappy karma.

Everyone reading this blog has a bunch of good karma. You have education. You can read. You have food or you wouldn't have the leisure to be sitting around reading. You have access to technology and electricity. You get my drift. You are better off than almost everyone on the planet.

But this idea of gaining merit towards your next life. This was of great interest to me in my recent travels. I asked a monk at a "Monk Chat" session to tell me something about this. He said that I would gain no merit by taking care of my kids, feeding my old parents, those were my duties, the ordinary stuff of life. However, random acts of kindness, feeding or caring for strangers was very meritorious. I asked about the spiritual welfare of the young prostitutes who come to the cities. He said that if they turn to that work to provide food for the family and village back home they are gaining merit from their work. They are piling up good karma by sacrificing their own lives for the greater good.

It seems like a healthy cycle. You help yourself by helping others. I didn't run into any cynical practitioners in my brief visit. But I suppose that if someone killed a man and then bought a new statue for the temple, it wouldn't be much different from Catholics gaining their money through Mafia activities and then building a new church. But, I suspect that both heaven and hell and karma can't be so easily fooled.

In terms of a social order I think there is something simple and elegant here. If you want to be happy, make someone else happy. If you want to be wealthy, give money to others, if you want enough food, feed others. Reminds one of Saint Francis.  Not all karma is about ten lives from now. Some deeds of gaining merit can offer instant results. This is one of the principles of AA. The people in meetings get healthy by helping others get healthy.

Another merit deal that I have personally experienced is the benefits and release from offering my suffering up to alleviate the suffering of others. Try it. When I remember to do this, I feel an instant updraft.

This blog is not meant to be preachy, I am a humble bumbler on the path of life. Poco a poco, paso a paso y dia por dia. Hasta la victoria siempre!

Posted by JulieFPierce at 4:51 AM No comments:
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Saturday, January 11, 2014

More about forgiveness.

One thing that was inspiring from my brief visit to Cambodia was the prevalent attitude of everyone I spoke with that while they will remember the horrors of the past, they will not engage in the destructive reliving and rehearsing of the nightmare. With amazing energy and determination they are building the life they want. Sadly, I think this is a rare attitude. There is probably no nation or culture which hasn't experienced some kind of repression or oppression from someone in their past. The Cambodian holocaust is quite recent in the big scheme of things.

I did not experience hatred or resentment toward me as an American for what we did to Cambodia, although our landmines are still causing constant pain. I don't know how this has happened or how we can learn from them. At some point in the past, I wrote about the slogan "Forgiveness is for me. Forgiveness sets me free." I practice this and have experienced the amazing lifting from the heaviness of carrying around old shit. And I have experienced the brutal power of old stuff that wants to keep finding a new way to creep back in. The ego is so devious. Reprogramming takes some real effort.

I guess what it comes down to is that my happiness is my responsibility and the only thing I have any ability to control is now. I can't change the past and I can't determine the future. This sounds like a vapid self-help book. I don't mean to. What I am pondering is how a whole country seems to be moving forward and creating a fresh hopeful life, a society where young people, no matter how poor, are grabbing every bit of education everywhere they can get it. Nelson Mandela left a legacy of inspiration for forging ahead into the impossible.

This is an insignificant example, but it is mine. I have never been any good at yoga but after I broke my hip, I went to a few yoga classes and couldn't do much of anything. So, I decided it was a waste of money and effort to continue. My yoga days were over. In Thailand, I had a strong urge to take a yoga class. Then day after day, I couldn't manage to get to the class which was at nine in the morning, a time when I was usually busy smoking and drinking coffee.

When I finally went to the class, I tried to tell the teacher that I was handicapped. She told me to get over it. I flipped a mental switch and decided that all I could possible hurt were dumb old muscles and what the hell? I did an extremely strenuous class and felt like a million dollars after the class. I was a bit sore, but nothing a massage couldn't take care of. I assume you get my drift. It was my mind not my body that was in my way. It was past pain that was keeping me from moving forward. It was fear that kept me down. It was risk aversion that kept me from accomplishment. It was a gift from the good gods that let me have my little break through.

I don't know what it is, the spirit that I saw moving through the young people in Cambodia, but I wish it would be an infectious epidemic and spread around the planet.
Posted by JulieFPierce at 9:18 AM No comments:
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Thursday, January 9, 2014

Good Morning Vietnaaaaaaaam!

Only kidding. I am in Nicaragua, again. I am spaced out. For me, this is a rather serious condition because in my most normal state I am not all that grounded. I am doing my groundation exercises, clicking my heels three times in my red shoes and thinking of Kansas, or rather asking the wizard where exactly I am and where I wish to be going.

I am here. I am now. My etheric body is somewhere over the horizon and I am waiting for it to catch up with this physical body. I have been enjoying a warm reception from friends here in Nica, am a bit shell shocked by menus, still looking for Thai dishes, peeking into the cathedral hoping to see a new Buddha. I am shocked anew by images of Christ on the cross bleeding from his hands and feet. I miss the gentle Thai people but am glad to be at my winter home.

In the various airports coming from Thailand to Nicaragua, I found myself looking up new places to visit. I looked hard at Morocco, and a lot at Laos and a little bit at Sri Lanka and again at Ireland. I'll let you know when I know. But really, I haven't even seen the Grand Canyon or Calgary or Los Angeles. So much to do.

I apparently forgot to mention that I put a good bunch of pictures and little travel moments on FB while I was on the road. Friend me if you would like to see my meanderings. I missed you all when I wasn't writing and am happy to be in communication again.


Posted by JulieFPierce at 2:32 PM No comments:
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About Me

JulieFPierce
Peace Chaplain, Peace Abbey, Sherborn, MA, Foster Mum for Unaccompanied Minor Political Refugees, Former Waldorf School Teacher, Medical and Human Rights work in Central America, Writer, Home Birth assistant, Buddhist following Lama Sumati Marut and the Dalai Lama, student of Anthroposophy, Goddard College, Plainfield, Vermont, Emerson College, Sussex England,Co-founder of Pax Panis...more to come, stay tuned
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