Never's Remedy

Today, after months of waiting for the DVD to be purchased by our library, we watched For the Next 7 Generations: 13 Indigenous Grandmothers Weaving a World that Works. Ana dreaded it at first, because, after many documentaries discussing making change in the world, she expected to have to sit through an hour or more of horrific, shocking, or enraging material before getting to the uplifting part. Except, as we discovered in its slow, steady demonstration, there was no shock and awe. There was only awe. Thirteen indigenous grandmothers from the four corners of the world, many of whom had had visions of this event happening decades beforehand, gathered to create a council of elders to discuss what was most needed for the world, from them. This was unlike most documentaries. Instead of having a narrator direct the course and flow the film would take, presenting an agenda or an overarching theme, the narrator gave her introduction, then sat back and let the camera follow these women on their journey.

Every six months, they agreed to meet in a different location--the home of one of the other grandmothers. They traveled to New Mexico, the Amazon, Mexico, Dharamsala to visit with the Dalai Lama, Vatican City, and beyond. They shared their traditions with the other women, even practicing different forms of medicine when needed, giving prayers to the earth, the water, the herbs, and food. Their children and grandchildren welcomed their guests with song and dance, with sacred rituals. Their discussions at each location involved a host of interpreters whispering away in the background, but each speaker spoke slowly, to allow everyone a chance to hear and understand (and for the interpreters to translate), they gave consideration to each speaker, laughed at one another's jokes, and were patient with those who needed to gather their thoughts.

Their shared experiences of prophetic visions--either their own, or those of their teachers--left Ana and I in awe and wonder. Some of what was said about water captured my heart and set my tears flowing. Ana held my hand at that moment.

The only ugly point in the documentary originated from the Vatican police who came to aggressively end the prayer circle the grandmothers had set up in the courtyard. They had permits, but they were being harassed by armed young men shouting, "What you're doing is anti-Catholic, and it needs to cease immediately!" The cameras were shut off and the prayers were silenced until a representative from the permit board came to prove the women had the right to do what they did. What threat did they pose by sending up prayers for peace and an end to greed? Apparently, the men felt threatened.

While this doesn't have an overt agenda, and it doesn't follow the smooth, crisp beginning-middle-end pattern of modern documentaries, what is shown is something so beautiful, simple, and extraordinary all at once to make this worth the wait. Though there was no "end" and no follow-up from the narrator, it made it seem all the more hopeful that their work continues on. We only need reach out and ask to learn from them.

They're calling this "the People's Mic", a low-tech work around to combat the unconstitutional laws put in place that prevent people exercising their right to peaceful assembly by denying them permits to use sound amplifiers. These laws go hand-in-hand with all of the permits now required of any protesting group that limit where in a public space people can assemble and how, often derailing a protest before it can launch.

This is bloody brilliant in my book, and Michael Moore's awe of their cleverness is touching considering how long he's been fighting various injustices for almost two decades. If you've seen the end of "Capitalist: A Love Story," then you can only imagine how good it must feel to be him finally watching people take a stand in this country; it sure feels damned good to me.

May the gods love and protect those of you in NY who stopped talking and finally took action. If I had the money, I'd be there with you.

"Don't Divorce Us" Video Worth Watching

via passions_sonnett

First, let me say Blessed Samhain or Dia de los Muertos to those who celebrate.

Should I be on my way to the UW right now dressed in a naughty sweater and draped in my burgundy cloak? Yes. I'm not though. Oh no. I didn't fall asleep until almost 4am, and when I don't get enough sleep for a couple of days in a row, I end up with cold-like symptoms. It doesn't help that there's a cold-infused boy upstairs sleeping right now. I figure I can get more done AND get the rest I need before the party tonight and maybe avoid actually getting sick. At the moment it's just some ear congestion/draining, and I think some tea and warmer clothes will do me in good stead. So will a nap later today. And curry, so I'm going to suggest India for lunch. I don't think I have a virus, but I know my body, and when I don't sleep well enough in a week, I tend to feel like crap by the end of it.

I have a Niko with her face buried into the crook of my arm as I type this. She purrs loudly and sends waves of heat from her body to mine.

There are more emails from the UW staff about the burning yesterday. In some ways, his death feels like a ritual sacrifice, and I feel that though it was a great tragedy and traumtic for those who witnessed it, we should not let such an offering go without honor and respect. No one will know why he did it, and I think it will bother some, but there is energy in there, and I intend to see it to some better, cleansing, healing purpose.

Yesterday as I drove to pick up Ana, the song that made me cry after ... well, everything, turned out to be so poignant in the lyrics, I could imagine this faceless, unknown man singing it in his heart when he decided to bring the gas can with him to the campus that day. Full lyrics are behind the cut, but even the chorus is enough:

And its days like this that burn me
Turn me inside out and learn me
Not to tell you anything I think I know
Well I think I'll tell you all that I know

I don't want to be alone I want to be a stone
I wanna sink to the bottom of the ocean
And lie there with you til I'm gone

( Bob Schneider's Big Blue Sea )

And for less intense subjects I present Zombies singing in "Re: Your Brains":



"I Had a Shoggoth" complete with ASL signs for creatures like daleks, cylons, and Cththulu:




And for next week, "Don't Speak for Me, Sarah Palin" to the tune of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina":



EDIT: Last night I finished my second scarf. It's truly fuckable. Today I have an Artemis costume to make Ana and a Sarah Palin costume to improvise for Craig. I have no idea how I'm going to put all of his hair in a beehive. Or even half of it. Pray my throat feels better by the afternoon.

Your assignment for today is to do something you loved to do as a child. To get you in the mood, watch these:

Feist & Count to Four



REM & Furry Happy Monsters