...
When David and I decided to have a child together, we both were politicized in a new way: an intensely personal and traditional way. The experience of raising a child made me more aware of the importance of taking one's ethics deeply into one's day-to-day life choices. I had a home birth, breastfed my son for three and a half years, and chose to unschool/homeschool him.
The funny thing for me was realizing that what I defined as radical parenting was exactly what our grandmothers and great-grandmothers had done. What I began to realize is that contemporary culture had taken away experiences that had naturally belonged to women--often in the name of convenience and modernity. These moments which had previously belonged to real people (and to their friends and communities) were now too often controlled by corporate medicine. It seemed like a radical act just to remember our past and learn lessons from our grandmothers.
In 2005, the Smithsonian Folklife Festival featured the theme of Food Culture USA. Suddenly, it became clear to me that those traditional-radical decisions I made regarding parenting had their parallels in all aspects of my life. I had been assuming that those decisions were entirely private, but it now became clear to me that these radical traditions were my personal source of power in the public world.
I had long since absorbed from my hobby-farmer grandmother that dietary fiber is at the heart of moral fiber. Now at the booths on the National Mall, I was realizing how many other people had learned this same lesson and played out its truth way beyond where my own mind had taken me.
CLICK HERE FOR THE FULL POST
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Shh...
At the Green Festival, I attended a workshop with with Max Simon about meditation. I really liked his style: quiet and focussed, yet not too "spiritual" in his discussion.
I am obsessed with trying to figure myself out, trying to make ethical sense of my daily life, and trying to come to terms with the role of Judaism in my life. But I immediately feel excluded as soon as someone starts using the rhetoric of spirituality. Sometimes I can recognize religious people's talk of a "still, small voice" as pretty much the same thing I mean when I talk about an inner dialectic.
Dialectic basically just means thinking about ideas by having deep conversations with other people, with other intellects. Moments of tension and contradiction arise--but respectful open conversation allows both people to arrive at a place of higher thinking, of better thought, than they could have achieved alone. Great minds do not think alike; they create harmonies which make complex music.
Inner dialectic is just my shorthand way of referring to interior thoughts brought to the logical mind. Sitting down to examine one's emotional reactions, one's assumptions, or one's feelings can so easily stir up one's fierce judgmental side. I'm often quite ashamed of what I find rattling around my subconscious, and I often try to deny it or block it out entirely. But that negative chastising is not the goal here at all. Coming to those thoughts with acceptance and then playing them off against one's ethical commitments, one's goals, and one's sense of logic can allow us to understand more fully how and why we act. Playing these two kinds of ideas off each other can allow us to polish our logical functioning and see more fully into our ethics beliefs, allowing us to grow profoundly.
That inner dialectic happens for me when I sit down with the express intent of examining my life, my self. It happens quite often when I sit down to write--which is why writing is both my career and a big part of my personal daily practice aside from my work. I've kept a diary since I was about four years old--sometimes listing nothing more than what I ate for lunch (which seemed to matter a lot during first grade and has again now that I've started gardening, "eating local," and following food blogs). Sometimes I wrote about what got said in Quaker meeting, or about relationships with friends and lovers. Sometimes I wrote about politics or even knitting. Hey--you pretty much know what I write about if you follow this blog regularly.
* * *
Well, I certainly used this personal dialectic to veer away completely from what Max Simon was talking about...
Although meditation has some of the same goals as what I am calling "the inner dialectic," I suppose, it really confronts that idea of accepting one's interior thoughts without judgment. Ideas come and go as one sits quietly. Even without the deliberate analysis that the inner dialectic requires, Simon and other meditation experts argue that the quiet self-focus happens and one learns to pay attention in a much deeper way.
I was moved by what he said in his opening and I looked forward to the coming hour. Then he announced that we would walk into the center of the busy festival, all plop down and close our ideas, and do a "public display of meditation."
My first thought was about to think about how important the idea of knitting in public (or KIP'ing) is for many knitters. I've knit in public since I was a little girl and had grandmothers and great aunts who knit and crocheted and quilted in public, so it has always seemed quite normal and natural to me.
The idea of meditating in public, though--well that seemed not only embarrassing but impossible. "Isn't meditation pretty much defined by silence?" I thought to myself.
My second thought, even less charitable, was that this was a huge gimmick that Simon was using to advertise his wares.
But--I decided to go ahead and do it anyway. I followed the other participants out of the room into the public arena, feeling incredibly uneasy as we walked deliberately and silently in a long single-file line. Walking in that line, I felt like I was part of a spectacle.
On cue, we sat down on the floor and in a few seconds closed our eyes.
And I was instantly calm and unaware of specific noise. (Being hard of hearing helps me at these times, I assume. Closing my eyes always makes a lot of sound go away.) My breath was slow and my mind much quieter than I could have predicted. Let me make it clear that I mean my mind was quieter than I expected just for the limited amount of time I meditated--even if I had been in a quiet spot.
What fascinated me most was how intimately familiar it all felt.
I already know this quiet, focussed feeling.
It is the way I feel when I knit in silence. In fact, when I first closed my eyes, the first thought that popped across my awareness was knitting in my hands, rows of garter, knit stitch after slow knit stitch.
And now, as I feel intellectually that I should wrap up this post with some great word of wisdom, my yarn is calling to me, asking that I come to it instead--and breathe deeply, with acceptance, awareness, and calm.
I am obsessed with trying to figure myself out, trying to make ethical sense of my daily life, and trying to come to terms with the role of Judaism in my life. But I immediately feel excluded as soon as someone starts using the rhetoric of spirituality. Sometimes I can recognize religious people's talk of a "still, small voice" as pretty much the same thing I mean when I talk about an inner dialectic.
Dialectic basically just means thinking about ideas by having deep conversations with other people, with other intellects. Moments of tension and contradiction arise--but respectful open conversation allows both people to arrive at a place of higher thinking, of better thought, than they could have achieved alone. Great minds do not think alike; they create harmonies which make complex music.
Inner dialectic is just my shorthand way of referring to interior thoughts brought to the logical mind. Sitting down to examine one's emotional reactions, one's assumptions, or one's feelings can so easily stir up one's fierce judgmental side. I'm often quite ashamed of what I find rattling around my subconscious, and I often try to deny it or block it out entirely. But that negative chastising is not the goal here at all. Coming to those thoughts with acceptance and then playing them off against one's ethical commitments, one's goals, and one's sense of logic can allow us to understand more fully how and why we act. Playing these two kinds of ideas off each other can allow us to polish our logical functioning and see more fully into our ethics beliefs, allowing us to grow profoundly.
That inner dialectic happens for me when I sit down with the express intent of examining my life, my self. It happens quite often when I sit down to write--which is why writing is both my career and a big part of my personal daily practice aside from my work. I've kept a diary since I was about four years old--sometimes listing nothing more than what I ate for lunch (which seemed to matter a lot during first grade and has again now that I've started gardening, "eating local," and following food blogs). Sometimes I wrote about what got said in Quaker meeting, or about relationships with friends and lovers. Sometimes I wrote about politics or even knitting. Hey--you pretty much know what I write about if you follow this blog regularly.
* * *
Well, I certainly used this personal dialectic to veer away completely from what Max Simon was talking about...
Although meditation has some of the same goals as what I am calling "the inner dialectic," I suppose, it really confronts that idea of accepting one's interior thoughts without judgment. Ideas come and go as one sits quietly. Even without the deliberate analysis that the inner dialectic requires, Simon and other meditation experts argue that the quiet self-focus happens and one learns to pay attention in a much deeper way.
I was moved by what he said in his opening and I looked forward to the coming hour. Then he announced that we would walk into the center of the busy festival, all plop down and close our ideas, and do a "public display of meditation."
My first thought was about to think about how important the idea of knitting in public (or KIP'ing) is for many knitters. I've knit in public since I was a little girl and had grandmothers and great aunts who knit and crocheted and quilted in public, so it has always seemed quite normal and natural to me.
The idea of meditating in public, though--well that seemed not only embarrassing but impossible. "Isn't meditation pretty much defined by silence?" I thought to myself.
My second thought, even less charitable, was that this was a huge gimmick that Simon was using to advertise his wares.
But--I decided to go ahead and do it anyway. I followed the other participants out of the room into the public arena, feeling incredibly uneasy as we walked deliberately and silently in a long single-file line. Walking in that line, I felt like I was part of a spectacle.
On cue, we sat down on the floor and in a few seconds closed our eyes.
And I was instantly calm and unaware of specific noise. (Being hard of hearing helps me at these times, I assume. Closing my eyes always makes a lot of sound go away.) My breath was slow and my mind much quieter than I could have predicted. Let me make it clear that I mean my mind was quieter than I expected just for the limited amount of time I meditated--even if I had been in a quiet spot.
What fascinated me most was how intimately familiar it all felt.
I already know this quiet, focussed feeling.
It is the way I feel when I knit in silence. In fact, when I first closed my eyes, the first thought that popped across my awareness was knitting in my hands, rows of garter, knit stitch after slow knit stitch.
And now, as I feel intellectually that I should wrap up this post with some great word of wisdom, my yarn is calling to me, asking that I come to it instead--and breathe deeply, with acceptance, awareness, and calm.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Chilling
My family had a lovely time on Saturday at the DC Green Festival. We walked around the enormous exhibit hall and tasted fair-trade chocolate, admired gorgeous handmade gifts and clothing, contemplated buying solar-powered LED holiday lights to hang in our sukkah, and enjoyed vegan soul food for lunch. We also talked to installers about fixing our ancient rope-and-pulley windows, met community leaders from a variety of organizations, and took in a few interesting lectures.
Our 9yo son had a wonderful time hanging out at the teen booth. He took a class on bike maintenance, made a shopping bag out of a used t-shirt, and learned how to yo-yo. He also learned how to play the nose harp. (Don't ask...)
As always, crowds this large leave me exhausted and ornery. Crowds this big focusing on buying and selling stuff--no matter how responsible that stuff might be--leave me even more overwhelmed.
* * *
Given the purchase-oriented nature of much of the fair, I was not expecting to be as motivated to work on changing the efficiency of our house as I have been since we returned from the festival.
For a long time we've been thinking about replacing our 1970 refrigerator. Unfortunately, it appears that today's refrigerators are all much larger--and a larger fridge will not fit in the spot. We've been trying for a while to grapple with the fact that when our fridge eventually dies, we'll have to rip out the upper cabinets and the pantry on that wall just to fit a new one in.
Often we wonder how much electricity our current fridge uses. While old refrigerators are notoriously inefficient, ours is so small compared to newer models that we've wondered if it might not be quite so awful after all. So I bought a Kill-a-Watt
and plugged the fridge in last night. I'll let you know how our tests go!
One replacement option we've considered is a hyper-efficient Sunfrost fridge-only model. We do have a chest freezer downstairs to supplement. But would we go crazy having to go downstairs just for ice cream?
As I keep asking myself that question, I realize that worrying about this kind of small inconvenience is ridiculous. Our grandparents and great-grandparents grew up without much in the way of the stuff we now consider absolutely essential. That doesn't mean we should get that particular fridge at all--just that I need to be a bit more aware of the sense of entitlement and expectation with which I approach my life.
* * *
Tomorrow: a post about some non-product-oriented experiences at the Green Festival.
Our 9yo son had a wonderful time hanging out at the teen booth. He took a class on bike maintenance, made a shopping bag out of a used t-shirt, and learned how to yo-yo. He also learned how to play the nose harp. (Don't ask...)
As always, crowds this large leave me exhausted and ornery. Crowds this big focusing on buying and selling stuff--no matter how responsible that stuff might be--leave me even more overwhelmed.
* * *
Given the purchase-oriented nature of much of the fair, I was not expecting to be as motivated to work on changing the efficiency of our house as I have been since we returned from the festival.
For a long time we've been thinking about replacing our 1970 refrigerator. Unfortunately, it appears that today's refrigerators are all much larger--and a larger fridge will not fit in the spot. We've been trying for a while to grapple with the fact that when our fridge eventually dies, we'll have to rip out the upper cabinets and the pantry on that wall just to fit a new one in.
Often we wonder how much electricity our current fridge uses. While old refrigerators are notoriously inefficient, ours is so small compared to newer models that we've wondered if it might not be quite so awful after all. So I bought a Kill-a-Watt
and plugged the fridge in last night. I'll let you know how our tests go!One replacement option we've considered is a hyper-efficient Sunfrost fridge-only model. We do have a chest freezer downstairs to supplement. But would we go crazy having to go downstairs just for ice cream?
As I keep asking myself that question, I realize that worrying about this kind of small inconvenience is ridiculous. Our grandparents and great-grandparents grew up without much in the way of the stuff we now consider absolutely essential. That doesn't mean we should get that particular fridge at all--just that I need to be a bit more aware of the sense of entitlement and expectation with which I approach my life.
* * *
Tomorrow: a post about some non-product-oriented experiences at the Green Festival.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Obama the Riveter?
Yes, I promise this is the last Obama post for a little while:
This and other very funny pictures found here.
Friday, November 07, 2008
We had a lovely power-free Shabbat evening (violated only to take these pictures at the end)...
playing games with a necklace chain making shapes for others to guess...
and drinking Chicagos--a drink of brandy, triple sec (replaced here with homemade kumquat liqueur), bitters, and champagne:
I'm afraid I had enough Chicago in me that by the end I started being very, very sacrilegious and singing "Barack Obama" instead of "Baruch atah..."
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Rebirth
I am still trying to come back down to earth after Obama's victory Tuesday evening.
Here are two of my favorite post-election quotes:
"I'm at a christening. It's my christening as a born-again American."
--Norman Lear
"We've crossed over to a better place and a more hopeful time. Not simply because of one man, but because we were prescient enough to have recognized ourselves and the true nature of America reflected in that one man. From there, we set about the task of freeing ourselves from the darkness of this decade and the skulking shadows that have for too long haunted us. In this respect, all of us -- all races -- are a little more free at last. After all these years, we've finally arrived at moment when America feels like it's supposed to feel. This January 20th, all of America will be stepping through those doors with President and Mrs. Obama as the dark ride of the last eight years reaches its long-overdue conclusion -- a conclusion more joyful and overwhelming than I think any of us fully anticipated prior to 11 p.m. eastern time Tuesday night -- when we pushed beyond a crucial threshold on our way to a more perfect union."
--Bob Cesca
Here are two of my favorite post-election quotes:
"I'm at a christening. It's my christening as a born-again American."
--Norman Lear
"We've crossed over to a better place and a more hopeful time. Not simply because of one man, but because we were prescient enough to have recognized ourselves and the true nature of America reflected in that one man. From there, we set about the task of freeing ourselves from the darkness of this decade and the skulking shadows that have for too long haunted us. In this respect, all of us -- all races -- are a little more free at last. After all these years, we've finally arrived at moment when America feels like it's supposed to feel. This January 20th, all of America will be stepping through those doors with President and Mrs. Obama as the dark ride of the last eight years reaches its long-overdue conclusion -- a conclusion more joyful and overwhelming than I think any of us fully anticipated prior to 11 p.m. eastern time Tuesday night -- when we pushed beyond a crucial threshold on our way to a more perfect union."
--Bob Cesca
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Earning the Letter
Today over at the Green Phone Booth, I picture a very special honorary guest with whom we will gladly share our phone booth. Come visit!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
An American Diary
12:40, Tuesday afternoon
Just returned from the polls, wearing my "I Voted" sticker. I've never had this kind of faith in a presidential candidate before--even when I was my son's innocent age watching as my own proud mother pulled the curtain to cast her vote for Jimmy Carter. In my adulthood, I have happily voted for Dukakis, for Clinton, for Gore, for Kerry. But I could not imagine that any of them could live up to what I wanted in a leader.
Today it is different. I don't know what people felt when they pulled the ballot for FDR, for Kennedy. Like I do today? I'm thinking about what MLK called "the fierce urgency of now." Now it is our responsibility, our time. "We are the ones we have been waiting for!"
2:40pm, Tuesday afternoon
I am weeping. How can a 40-something-year-old woman be so emotional in the face of possibility? "In the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope."
4:40pm, Tuesday afternoon
Son is taking a late-afternoon nap in preparation for a late evening watching the returns. I think about my 9yo boy and the fear he has faced this year as he came into awareness of climate change, of peak energy, of bits of the financial crisis. I want this time ahead of us to be filled not just with whatever difficulties we must face but also with the hope, the caring, the sense of duty that Obama inspires in Americans. "These are our hands; What are we gonna build with them?"
Just returned from the polls, wearing my "I Voted" sticker. I've never had this kind of faith in a presidential candidate before--even when I was my son's innocent age watching as my own proud mother pulled the curtain to cast her vote for Jimmy Carter. In my adulthood, I have happily voted for Dukakis, for Clinton, for Gore, for Kerry. But I could not imagine that any of them could live up to what I wanted in a leader.
Today it is different. I don't know what people felt when they pulled the ballot for FDR, for Kennedy. Like I do today? I'm thinking about what MLK called "the fierce urgency of now." Now it is our responsibility, our time. "We are the ones we have been waiting for!"
2:40pm, Tuesday afternoon
I am weeping. How can a 40-something-year-old woman be so emotional in the face of possibility? "In the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope."
4:40pm, Tuesday afternoon
Son is taking a late-afternoon nap in preparation for a late evening watching the returns. I think about my 9yo boy and the fear he has faced this year as he came into awareness of climate change, of peak energy, of bits of the financial crisis. I want this time ahead of us to be filled not just with whatever difficulties we must face but also with the hope, the caring, the sense of duty that Obama inspires in Americans. "These are our hands; What are we gonna build with them?"
Leading the Way
I finished Sharon Astyk's Depletion and Abundance: Life on the New Home Front
with a feeling not only of hope, but also with a feeling of radical responsibility. What I love best about Astyk's book is the author's unshakable commitment to her inner ethical compass. Usually, I am very resistant to authors telling me to do what they think is right for the world. But Astyk combines belief in universal morals (like truly committing our lives to taking care of elderly parents and children, connecting with our communities, and helping strangers in need) with acceptance and respect for diversity. Instead of feeling like she is preaching at me, I feel like she is inspiring me to try to live up to my ideals and attempt to be my highest self.For the full review, check out my post over at The Blogging Bookworm.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Caring
I keep crying happy tears when looking at these wonderful Obama family pictures. This is what I need in the White House! Fundamentally, I trust that anyone who protects, respects, loves, and enjoys his family this much will do the same for this nation.
And don't miss these great romantic moments--and these--between the Barack and Michelle!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Natural Born
The US Constitution requires that all presidents be natural born citizens of this country. Candidates born as citizens of another country then naturalized can serve in all but this highest of government roles.
But what is a "natural born citizen"? It is not defined by the Constitution at all.
Interestingly, people have questioned both Obama's status and McCain's status.
* * *
Obama was born in Hawaii according to his campaign and the birth certificate they published on his website.
Some have suggested, based on what most people see as extremely problematic evidence, that he was in fact born in Kenya. In order to question Obama's qualification, you have to accept this argument. (I am not telling you to believe it at all in real life--I certainly don't--but just play along with me for a minute.)
Very few people believe one actually has to be born on US soil to be "natural born"--since you are born a citizen if one of your parents is a US citizen, as Obama's mother was. But the complication in this case is that the law at the time required the parent to reside for 5 years after the age of 14 within the US--and Obama's mother was only 18yo and therefore had not resided anywhere for 5 years after the age of 18. Surely this is not what the founders of the Constitution were fighting against....
The law was later changed and made retroactive so Obama would in fact be covered anyway, even if he was born in Kenya.
But if you really want to get nit-picky (which can be an enjoyable intellectual activity at times), you could argue that it is impossible to be a natural born citizen if you've already been alive for a few years. A natural rebirth?
* * *
McCain's case is pretty similar. He was by all accounts born in the Panama Canal in 1936. At the time of his birth, birth in the Canal Zone did not lead to US citizenship. Although his parents were both US citizens, if you believe that "natural born" means you have to be born on the soil of the country, then McCain would not qualify.
But he's safe--right?--since a law passed when he was a year old retroactively made him a citizen. But, oops, just like in the case of a Kenyan-born Obama, McCain's situation would require a rebirth....
All of this is pretty crazy, as Senator Lindsey Graham says(who I never ever agree with in any other case): It would be incomprehensible to him if the son of a military officer was born in a military station and could therefore not run for president. Just as crazy as being penalized for having an underage mother.
* * *
When I was talking about this absolutely inconsequential quagmire of a game with David, our 9yo son explained the he in fact knew exactly what "natural born" means.
"I could be president!" He realized. "I was born at home, and you didn't have drugs or anything, right? I was natural born!"
Shakespeare's Macbeth would approve.
But what is a "natural born citizen"? It is not defined by the Constitution at all.
Interestingly, people have questioned both Obama's status and McCain's status.
* * *
Obama was born in Hawaii according to his campaign and the birth certificate they published on his website.
Some have suggested, based on what most people see as extremely problematic evidence, that he was in fact born in Kenya. In order to question Obama's qualification, you have to accept this argument. (I am not telling you to believe it at all in real life--I certainly don't--but just play along with me for a minute.)
Very few people believe one actually has to be born on US soil to be "natural born"--since you are born a citizen if one of your parents is a US citizen, as Obama's mother was. But the complication in this case is that the law at the time required the parent to reside for 5 years after the age of 14 within the US--and Obama's mother was only 18yo and therefore had not resided anywhere for 5 years after the age of 18. Surely this is not what the founders of the Constitution were fighting against....
The law was later changed and made retroactive so Obama would in fact be covered anyway, even if he was born in Kenya.
But if you really want to get nit-picky (which can be an enjoyable intellectual activity at times), you could argue that it is impossible to be a natural born citizen if you've already been alive for a few years. A natural rebirth?
* * *
McCain's case is pretty similar. He was by all accounts born in the Panama Canal in 1936. At the time of his birth, birth in the Canal Zone did not lead to US citizenship. Although his parents were both US citizens, if you believe that "natural born" means you have to be born on the soil of the country, then McCain would not qualify.
But he's safe--right?--since a law passed when he was a year old retroactively made him a citizen. But, oops, just like in the case of a Kenyan-born Obama, McCain's situation would require a rebirth....
All of this is pretty crazy, as Senator Lindsey Graham says(who I never ever agree with in any other case): It would be incomprehensible to him if the son of a military officer was born in a military station and could therefore not run for president. Just as crazy as being penalized for having an underage mother.
* * *
When I was talking about this absolutely inconsequential quagmire of a game with David, our 9yo son explained the he in fact knew exactly what "natural born" means.
"I could be president!" He realized. "I was born at home, and you didn't have drugs or anything, right? I was natural born!"
Shakespeare's Macbeth would approve.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Yes We Can!
That would be "Oui, on peut!" in Cajun country:
And here's a fantastic call from the Latin American community to "Respondele a Obama":
It seems that all cultures are responding to the powerful message of Obama:
Didn't you know O'bama was Irish?
Check out the psychedelic Barack OBollywood!
And even white southerner males make a showing in this phenomenal radio ad by the absolutely incomparable Ralph Stanley.
And here's a fantastic call from the Latin American community to "Respondele a Obama":
It seems that all cultures are responding to the powerful message of Obama:
Didn't you know O'bama was Irish?
Check out the psychedelic Barack OBollywood!
And even white southerner males make a showing in this phenomenal radio ad by the absolutely incomparable Ralph Stanley.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Obamartini
The election night drink of choice: a gin martini garnished with one cool cucumber (a cornichon or gherkin--pickled or not depending on your own condition).
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Making Change Happen
As we approach Election Day, I've been thinking a lot about real superheros from our political history. One name which keeps resonating with me during these times of economic crisis is Eleanor Roosevelt. This month, she would have celebrated her 124th birthday.
CONTINUED HERE...
CONTINUED HERE...
Friday, October 24, 2008
A Little Doom with Your Morning Tea?
Now that a "once-in-a-century credit tsunami" has hit, "those of us who have looked to the self-interest of lending institutions to protect shareholder's equity (myself especially) are in a state of shocked disbelief," says Alan Greenspan.
"We've reached a situation of sheer panic," says Nouriel Roubini in a Bloomberg article. Roubini is a leading economist who predicted the current financial crisis in 2006. "There will be massive dumping of assets" and "hundreds of hedge funds are going to go bust." Roubini continues, "Don't be surprised if policy makers need to close down markets for a week or two in coming days. " He goes further: "Things will get much worse before they get better. I fear the worst is ahead of us." (UPDATE 9AM: It has started happening.)
Brilliant thinker Nassim Nicholas Taleb suggested on PBS's NewsHour that we might be entering the "most difficult period since--not since the Great Depression; since the American Revolution. He continues, "I hope I'm wrong. I wake up every morning--actually, I don't wake up every morning now. I've started to wake up at night the last couple of weeks hoping that I'm wrong, begging to be wrong. I think that we may be experiencing something that is vastly worse than we think it is." (Video here.)
Time for another cup. Make it a strong one.
"We've reached a situation of sheer panic," says Nouriel Roubini in a Bloomberg article. Roubini is a leading economist who predicted the current financial crisis in 2006. "There will be massive dumping of assets" and "hundreds of hedge funds are going to go bust." Roubini continues, "Don't be surprised if policy makers need to close down markets for a week or two in coming days. " He goes further: "Things will get much worse before they get better. I fear the worst is ahead of us." (UPDATE 9AM: It has started happening.)
Brilliant thinker Nassim Nicholas Taleb suggested on PBS's NewsHour that we might be entering the "most difficult period since--not since the Great Depression; since the American Revolution. He continues, "I hope I'm wrong. I wake up every morning--actually, I don't wake up every morning now. I've started to wake up at night the last couple of weeks hoping that I'm wrong, begging to be wrong. I think that we may be experiencing something that is vastly worse than we think it is." (Video here.)
Time for another cup. Make it a strong one.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Living in Booths
Laura Ingallstein from Little House in the Shtetl joins me this week in the Green Phone Booth to cook a meal made entirely from stuff my family grew in our backyard. We also talk about the meanings and practice of the Jewish holiday of Sukkot.
This mission requires me to transform my green superhero cape into an apron. It also requires the Green Phone Booth to become a sukkah. Luckily, this is not a difficult prestidigitation since the Jewish holiday of Sukkot is also called the Festival of Booths.
Ma Ingallstein Preparing the Evening Meal in the Family's Green Booth
(Who would have thought that Jews have been pioneers for millenia?)
CONTINUED HERE...
This mission requires me to transform my green superhero cape into an apron. It also requires the Green Phone Booth to become a sukkah. Luckily, this is not a difficult prestidigitation since the Jewish holiday of Sukkot is also called the Festival of Booths.
Ma Ingallstein Preparing the Evening Meal in the Family's Green Booth
(Who would have thought that Jews have been pioneers for millenia?)
CONTINUED HERE...
Sunday, October 19, 2008
We had a lovely and interesting lunch today, served on our bento trays. We made miso soup with a vegetable-peelings stock (mostly tomatoes and apples) and added some julienned broccoli stems, pea shoots, and scallions. The snow peas are just steamed and the mushrooms are sauteed with mirin and sesame oil then sprinkled with chives. There are also some pickled radish shreds. The entree is asian rice with smoked sardines and soy sauce. For dessert we had some canned rambutans sprinkled with a few black sesame seeds. (Son and I use Singapore Math which constantly has word problems about rambutans, so we had to try them. They are very similar to lychees.)
Delicious--and the meal made us feel very special. I love the peace of eating a late lunch on the weekend!
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