Neighborhood Watch

                                     The weekly meeting with my neighbors, the Corvids.

Thursday is trash day and it's also talk-to-the-crows day. The good ol' gaggle of American crows. Not to be confused with their fancy faced and larger breed the raven, although the Americans are pretty big and like to show their power. 

This morning I took out the trash and heard various song birds sounding alarm bells. I looked up and saw my usual murder of crows on scaffolded sections of the stand of conifers a couple houses away. 

When I crossed the street, a pair of crows swooped into the old oak above me. I put the bags at the base of it's trunk on the curb. While I was tying the town stickers onto the bags, they started their weekly conversation. I politely ask that they not break open the bags on the street and offered to give them some crumbs instead. Usually, they'd calm down and fly around to the back of the house for a treat. But today, they kept looking at me, and their conversation was growing louder and more varied than usual. 

I stopped talking to them after securing the first sticker. I took inventory of the canopy of the Oak. And then I saw it, and understood the fuss. A Peregrine Falcon was in the upper branches. The crows were acting as sentinels for me. They had spaced themselves on opposite sides of the tree at the same height between me and the falcon. The song birds were fearful that it would find their nests in the various bushes and trees in the neighborhood.  Or worse, eat them. I had wondered why the feeder was empty when I was making tea.

                               ( This picture was taken of a documented event, when a murder of crows                                    mobbed a peregrine falcon to make it leave.                                                                              https://besgroup.org/2009/03/27/peregrine-falcon-mobbed-by-a-c )                                           (  https://www.uml.edu/falcons/about.aspx  More on peregrine falcons)

 I slowly tied the second sicker to the second bag. Then I tried staring down the falcon. The falcon was significantly smaller than the crows - it was roughly 10", while they were closer to 20". Peregrines are roughly the size of the Western Jay pictured in the top image. The Falcon had a sweet face and it kept abashedly turning away from me. The only concession it made was to fly to a branch on opposite side of the tree, remaining above me and the crows. 

The crows began to clap their beaks and look at me. I felt they were asking me to do something. What would scare a peregrine falcon, the fastest bird on earth? 

Standing in my pajamas and slippers, with my glasses pushed up to the top of my head, I began to make the sounds of a Great Horned Owl. I constricted my throat and inhaled air through it for the first part of the call. I had to adjust for pitch, as my first attempt sounded more like a parrot (prey) than a large owl (predator). Lowered the pitch and then followed it with some deep soft, yet firm series of "hooos".  I then repeated the sequence. That caught the falcon's full attention. The crows grew quiet while I did this, too. They hadn't heard me speak Raptor before, only Corvid and ugly Human.

The peregrine gave me one last glance, looked over it's shoulder and flew away at its singular speed: 240 mph! That is how it can escape it's two known predators: a Golden Eagle (200mph max) or an acrobatic Great Horned Owl! Peregrines are fast, but not acrobatic like many Owls or Ravens. 

Being a good neighbor means being good to all your neighbors wild and domestic (this includes inanimate beings like trees, flowers, even stones, but that's another story). And in kind they will be good and watch over you.

Update: Let Triton, my tripawd, out. I think the falcon has moved down towards the river, at least that is where the murder of crows has gone. The song birds are still on alert. Triton will have the whole yard to himself until the crows chase away the intruder.

No Them, Only US

This morning, I started to watch the hearing on Biden's document case and stopped. I realize it's not good for my health (more "drama obscuring reality").

(Walt Kelly’s funny animal comic strip Pogo provided a surprising, but effective, setting for his incisive political satire. During the War of 1812, the United States Navy defeated the British Navy in the Battle of Lake Erie. Master Commandant Oliver Perry wrote to Major General William Henry Harrison, “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” Kelly’s parody of this famous battle report perfectly summarizes mankind’s tendency to create our own problems. In this case, we have only ourselves to blame for the pollution and destruction of our environment.
Kelly coined the phrase for an anti-pollution Earth Day poster in 1970 and used it again in a special comic strip created for Earth Day 1971. The saying caught the collective imagination of the public and is still used today.)

We are humans. Humans have always had an "Us vs Them" mentality. Last century it was World Wars followed by the Cold War. At the end of the 80's into the early 90's the enemy (the Them), when the Cold War was ending, it started to become "US". In order to have a "them" it became a national enemy vs an alien one.

Then 9/11 came and gave the gift of an alien enemy, including the propaganda of the Cold War as it shifted to the propaganda against Iraq/Muslims. Many of us knew that was a false claim. History proved us correct. It lead to our longest war involving American soldiers, EVER. As administrations changed, the rhetoric changed and we tried to deescalate and exit. But the love of an enemy and the capitalistic realities of war made that difficult. Plus, we'd made promises to our allies in the invaded middle east nations. With the election of Obama, I saw the rise in overt racism slowly tick UP. I saw people refer to Democrats as Socialists (not quite Soviets or dictatorships, but a charged rhyme or echo). The call for a viable third party had been ringing for sometime, and so far hasn't been answered. Government started to break down. The Republicans denied hearing Obama's Supreme Court Judge nominations?!!

In 2016 with the election of tRump we saw more propaganda rise in effective ways and glimmers of authoritarian rhetoric began. Any one who had ever lived (lives) in NYC knew that tRump as a con artist, narcissist, and racist/antisemitic/mysogynist. We foolishly thought his run was a joke, and believed he did too, he was in it for the money and celebrity. But he won. Part of the reason he won the immigrant vote was because he used the words "elite" and "socialists". New citizens fleeing authoritarian regimes didn't want any leadership that skewed toward "authoritarian". Afterwards, the US vs Them became Democrats vs Republicans. tRump stacked three republican and god-fearing (tRump) judges in the Supreme Court. Chaos reigned and dysfunction crippled our government. His rhetoric became authoritarian and he befriend autocrats and dictators. He vilified and lied about those who went against him. He tyrannically demanded his party do so in kind.

Then to top it all off, he LOST in 2020 and wouldn't concede. He directed an extreme and indoctrinated element of the Republican party to storm the Capitol and try to stop the peaceful transition of power with the violent extremists with an insurrection.

In office, Biden ended the longest war in American History (it took him 20 years , as Senator, VP and finally President). tRump had already created a propaganda press and media the follows him and doesn't question a word of what he or his minions say. He had created a following, or some say cult ~ because they swallow his soundbites whole ~ that will do his bidden, not because they respect him, rather they fear him. The Supreme Court over turned Roe v Wade, a campaign promise of tRumps in 2016! This sounds like an authoritarian ruler. He has now undone our checks and balances, but using the privileged means of delaying and appealing trials. Even the Supreme court is bowing down to him, so that he may be elected before he is tried. His is now the presumptive Republican nominee.

Democrats are scrambling to win over Hailey's voters, plus Independents and Republicans who see that this is no longer their party or dare I say country. The Great American Experiment is teetering towards failing.

On a week-in-review program over the weekend, I heard someone say, "You can't change beliefs with fact." This was a rebuttal to the idea of comparing and contrasting the fact of who Biden and tRump are as leaders and men. False news = Propaganda. How to combat it? And if tRump is elected news organizations, press, schools, thinkers with authority or power will be punished or worse by tRump. He will become the "Tyrant" the Declaration of Independence worried ascending in politics.

tRump was won the war of media, technology and a fragmented society (some could argue world~ as ever nation will be effected by the Climate Crisis, borders, human migration and scarcity of resources [never evenly distributed, but hey, I don't want to sound like a social democrat -ha]). Biden must step up his communication skills and changing the narrative. To find a belief that we hold true (self-evident, undeniable) and we will all agree to as AMERICANS, the US citizenry. There should be no "Them", only US!

Incase you haven't read it in a while, click here!

https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript

The Karen

        When I was a girl in the 1960's the world was large and only knowable through books, stories from  adult's travel, dusty globes that spun with different countries, dependent on the year they were printed (before or after a war, usually), National Geographic, and the occasional circus. When the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey Circus came to Boston during it's 100th Anniversary in 1970, I was a few months shy of 8. I was mesmerized by the exotic African and Indian animals, gravity defying human acts, and the music driving the action in the three rings.  However, with all the images still swirling in my brain, and the circus program in my lap the entire hour ride back to our rural home, I'd yet to discover the above mind blowing poster in the program. 

     "Beginning with the 100th Anniversary Program in 1970, some of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey programs had poster reproductions inserted in the program book. These varied in size but were about 16 inches by 20 inches. It’s easy to identify them because they were folded in quarters and have staple holes where they were inserted into the program. They continued this for several years.

        In 1970 the 100th Edition of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey souvenir program advertised a set of four posters measuring 26 inches x 17 inches for $3.98 per set.

        Those posters were:

Barnum & Bailey – Tiger Head – Blue Background

Barnum & Bailey – 1000 Skits by 50 Original Clowns

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey – Giraffe Neck Women from Burma

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey – Dainty Miss Leitzel" (https://www.worthpoint.com/articles/collectibles/circus-posters-authentic-or-reproduction)

       

        I tacked the poster of the Burmese women on my bedroom wall for the next 2.5 years. I made up stories about the women and nursed occasional fears. The women's necks, the long heavy earrings, their smiling lips, but stern eyes confused my young mind. The gold rings on their arms and legs with their bare feet below (except for one who wore what looked like leather boots), made me feel sorry for the women. It was hot where they lived, I was told, and my child mind could feel the weight and heat of these bangles as burdens, not items of beauty or status. Their image has informed the lens in which I, from a young age, question cultural values and identities. This was aided by my Aunt Ama, who is Ghanaian, and what she taught me about her culture and it's values. Children's stories, for example, weren't about rugged individuals or quests, they were more inline with how each persons choice affects the whole family or village. I figured that these rings must be apart of narrative I hadn't yet learned about and would later in school or by traveling. 

        I would later learn that the original Giraffe-Neck Woman poster was from the 1930's or between the World Wars, during the end of the Colonization of Burma by the British. Last month, I read Theroux's novel set at the end of the 116 year rule of Britain in Burma. The novel's is mostly set in Burma between 1922-27. Burma Sahib is a fictional account of Eric Blair's life as a probationary police officer, as when he sets sail for Burma upon graduation from Eton at 19. Upon arrival he experiences trials and tribulations in  seven different Burmese police districts, he heads back for England just before his 24th Birthday. By then, the reader witnesses how he's begun to manifest his "secret self," the contrarian, and this self will later emerge as George Orwell when he begins to write his political novels. The young Eric, is uncomfortable being a "sahib" or a colonizer who enforces non-native laws. If you love Theroux's travel writing and story telling, this historical novel will keep you reading, and learning, page after page. It's like reading Conrad's Secret Sharer, only not as dark, yet with a modern cynicism. Both protagonists have a transformational and defining journey that starts and ends on boats in their young lives. Much like I did on a boat between the ages of 17-20.

Similar to the sensational Apocalypse Now, during the cultural revolution and end of the Vietnam War of the 1970's hit a nerve, the setting was inspired by using another Conrad  story, The Heart of Darkness, and Col. David Hackworth's dossier (I worked with Hack on his seminal book,  About Face, in which he details how the military failed in Vietnam, and while being the most decorated living soldier at the same time). Only instead of it being a disillusionment with "unwinnable wars", in Theroux's fictional account of the budding George Orwell, it's the disillusionment of "failing as a foreign enforcer in a colonized country." 

        In both Apocalypse Now and Burma Sahib, the role of the native women and men are explored by the protagonists. In both stories "going native" is frowned upon or a reason for treason or demotion. In Burma Sahib, the roles of women,  of varying classes, is examined in granular and insightful detail. There is even a brief moment where the young Eric, just starting to writing poetry, describes the "ring-necked women" he sees and wonders at them, while realizing they are from a sub-group of the Karen religion (Kayan, of Red Karen's, a Tibeto-Burman ethnic minority). I'd learned about Jainism from many Indian friends, but this was my introduction to "Karen's" and the fact that the Burmese Giraffe-Neck Woman were from region. 

        Karen. My name. A meme. A slur. An entitled middle class white woman. The Karen. The Karen are an internally diverse group of ethnic minorities who live primarily in southern and southeastern Burma. They are the second-largest non-Burman ethnic group in Myanmar comprising some 6% of the population, and are mostly Christian. During WWII, roughly 28% of Karen served in the Burmese army, which by British policy deliberately excluded ethnic Burmans. During the war, the Karen continued to support the British even as Burmans, led by Aung San, sided with the Japanese.

        Representatives for the Karen attended the 1947 Panglong Conference (two years after the end of WWII) as observers but did not formally participate in the negotiations. Beginning in 1949, a rebellion broke out among the Karen people and was quickly followed by the wholesale defection of Karen units in the newly-formed Burmese army. The Karen National Union (KNU) has been at war with the central Burmese government since this time, making this rebellion the longest in contemporary world history. They seek greater autonomy, political rights (including the right to bear arms), and social autonomy in the realms of religion, culture, education and language. (For more on the Karen people and their plight look here: https://kcssf.org.au/about-us/the-karen-people/)

        Needless to say, the fact that I learned, in my 62nd year, that these women were from an ethnic group, The Karen, after reading a novel by Paul Theroux about the foundational period in George Orwell's life, was thrilling. I last month I discovered my bizare & beloved poster in file folder with my name on it while going through my mother's papers. The file was titled "Karen's Favorites." I guess Mom took it down when we moved to Lincoln, when I turned 10, and it never was seen again, until now.

Transitions: Observe. Hold. Release.

         The common chorus is "you're going through so many things at once." You could say that chorus has been playing most of my life, and many times the things have been of my own making or environmental. Growing up in the houses I did, drama often obscured reality. It took me until my 30's to begin to train myself not to find drama familiar and comfortable. The new boundaries required great deal of work, especially since my biological clock was ticking and it resulted in  making a family of my own during that decade, before all my boundaries had set.

        Thirty years later, I'm still refining my tolerance for drama and requiring more peace at every turn. Boundaries are still a work in progress (as my cycles of life change so do my perimeters).  So out of the five (5) biggest stressors in human life ~ 1) Death/Birth of a loved one, 2) Divorce/Marriage, 3) Moving,  4) Major illness or injury, 5) Job loss/Retirement ~ I guess you could argue that I'm experiencing four of them (although it will be 12 years in June,  I might even argue and add Divorce (5th), as it's still a loss that holds space in my being, as there has been no replacement relationship).

        Driving through my original hometown this morning, Bolton, MA, I had an epiphany. All the Buddhist training, Psychological tools, and Meditation modes have lead me back to being the girl running through the woods and looking closely at all the beings that lived there. I used to get very still and just let myself "be" in the woods. This is where I first practiced Being. I learned where various critters lived. How the seasons changed the course of the brooks. The trees had sticky and less sticky seasons. Where the wild asparagus grew. Which crab apples were worth a bite and which would be too bitter. The difference between salamander and frog eggs.  Where the rabbits felt safe. Where bones of wild critters would be easy to find. How the sun and moon lived in different places in the sky in different seasons. To taste rain or snow in the wind before it arrived. And so much more. I was just left to be and observe. That gave me a certain confidence. I'd come home with questions or finds and gradually my mother bought me little Golden Guide books for Insects, Trees, Flowers, Fishes, Sea Shells, Fishing, and Yosemite (copyright 1970, because my first trip ever on an airplane -alone- was to California in '72 at age 10 to visit my best friend who had moved away, so naturally, I had to know about CA critters).

        I now have numerous other guide books to the Natural World in different places on the globe. In Nature I've always felt the ability to let go and Be. As I grew older, in my teens, I often sought drama in the form of adrenaline activating outdoor sports: Skiing (both kinds), running, barrel racing, biking long distances in all weather, playing on the boys soccer team, kayaking in strong currents, hiking, swimming in every kind of natural body of water, diving and salvage diving, snorkeling, free diving, sailing through hurricanes and more. These kinds of outdoor sports forced me to be in the moment, but also to accept the present, to observe it and float through it to the best of your ability.  These were my first experiences in the Practice of Accepting the Present.  What came before or after didn't really matter, doing your best in the moment did. Just Be your best, long before Nike's Just Do It promotion. I also learned a different kind of confidence. Instead of only observing, I was participating, a physical self confidence, and learning the social skills to support a team, too. 

        From the ages seventeen (graduating high school) until I turned twenty (enrolling in college), I lived the in the school of life. Geographically speaking, I lived in Maine, on an island and moved onto a sailboat, which then sailed to St. Croix, where I lived in Christiansted Harbor for nearly a year. Financially speaking, I worked odd jobs associated with the sea/fishing/boats and bartered, while I learned the trade of cabinetmaking and made money at that in Maine, and in St. Croix I briefly made leather sandals and then landed a job building furniture for a new hospital. Emotionally speaking, I first moved away from family and then moved away from friends, other than the man I lived with on the boat. Coming from and belonging to a large, constantly in contact, over-sharing family having no postal address nor telephone for that last year was both liberating and lonely. It forced me Practice Challenging the Stories I told Myself. Especially being out of New England, the only white woman on the job sight, and much younger than the black and hispanic men I was directing on the job. Also I learned to question other peoples stories. The guy dressed as a beach bum at the bar might be a millionaire, while the guy dressed like a millionaire could be broke. The island was full of transient folks: tourists, travelers, expats from various nations, islanders moving up and down up and down the chain for work, and, always, sailors. Even my octopus friend moved, after a frightful encounter with a New Yorker. One of the major currencies of reinvention is the story you tell others. 

        For the next four decades I kept reinventing myself. College Reporter. School Senator. Waitress. House painter. Pre-Nursing student. English Major. Radcliffe Publishing Course attendee. Assistant Publisher for a Magazine. Assistant Literary Agent. Junior Literary Agent.  

President of a Literary Agency (while funding the first three years as a model, bookstore clerk and night manager of a B&B). Wife. Mother. Naturalist for Mass Audubon. Triathlete. Runner. Obstacle Course Racer. ELL/Sped teacher. English teacher. Marathon/Ice Swimmer. Retired, although I plan to work part-time, write, volunteer and travel. Not sure which of those Me's will become a new title of sorts. I Accepted the Life-Long Challenge of Change.

         I can now just Be. The woman who observers. The woman who is a team player. The woman who loves to be in nature alone and to share it with other at times. The woman who loves her kids. The woman who wants to keep learning. The woman who wants to keep challenging the story she tells herself and to make it full of a grit with grace that flows and sings. That is how I want to face my current and future transitions, knowing that nothing is permanent except change and our choices in each moment. Observe, Hold, Release. That is all we can ever really Do. And that is the way of Being I chose now.