Archives for the month of: March, 2008

www.art4worldpeace.com is a terrific website, and I’m going to put it in my list on the side of this blog as soon as I remembeer how.

more later

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Iranian Baha’i School Children
In April 2007, the Bahá’í International Community reported that Baha’i students in primary and secondary schools throughout Iran were being increasingly harassed, vilified, and held up to abuse because of their Faith. Many incidents of mistreatment were reported at the time, and it appears that these incidents have been escalating in recent months.

Bahá’í school children in Iran are being subjected to cruel and harsh treatment as part of a government-sponsored campaign against the Bahá’í community. Reports indicate that Baha’i pupils are secretly monitored and reported upon by school officials, are subjected to vilification by their teachers and school administrators, and are forced to listen to vile and outrageous tales about the teachings of their Faith and the moral behavior of Baha’is. It has now become clear that Baha’i pupils in primary and secondary schools are being expelled on the basis of the stipulation in the “Golpaygani memorandum” that Baha’is “can be enrolled in schools provided they have not identified themselves as Baha’is”. Pupils are often expelled when they identify themselves as Baha’is, when they try to defend the Faith against utterly unfounded accusations, or when they respectfully attempt to correct gross misrepresentations of the Faith’s history in the textbooks they must study. It has also been reported that Baha’is in secondary schools are to be given grades sufficient to graduate but too low to allow entrance to university.

To learn more about some of the incidents that have been taking place from June 2007 to January 2008, click here to get a summary.

How can you help?

People are encouraged to raise awareness about this deplorable maltreatment of young Bahá’í pupils with groups that focus on the interests of children, such as parents of young children, parent-teacher organizations, teachers and teachers’ unions, principals and headmasters, school boards and community education organizations.

You could:

If you are a member of a professional teachers association or parent-teacher association, or a school administration association, please approach your colleagues about what actions they might take.

Left Mouse Click, Inc.

I have a computer angel, who has a company and fixes all your worries and troubles ever to enter a snarled head regarding computers. His name is Robert Rubino, and his website is above. He came over on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and spent several hours rescuing me, a friend and former neighbor, out of a morass.

I decided to put his name up here and tell you, if you are ever in a jam, he’s your man; sounds rhymy doesn’t it. At any rate, Left Mouse click is a phrase that makes me grin ear to ear today and probably for more days than I can count in the future.

Love to all, esther

A young friend, Carmel Clavin, is interning at the Middle East Institute and has published an article on Henna which is delightful and informative. She’s on page 5. Check it out!

http://www.mideasti.org/files/March_08.pdf



CHPerc – March 5, 2008

I have been so quiet of late with my writing group. Then the
reminder from Steve – “You are the prompter,” and phrases float
through my mind. I had just copied Beth’s prompts of the previous
week, thinking, these are juicy little things. Now I sit again at my
computer, utilitarian nightgown on, hair thatched, tummy a little
queasy, and look at some of the phrases I tossed out this week –
brain crust reformed.

I am exploring silence, but saw that in a book. This phrase gave me a queenly – slight edge of the wrist movement – wave. Hey what about
arrest motion for I am quieter, more stopped because viruses of the
virulent kind have touched down upon California. Last week I
stumbled through. Now I must remember to stop, put a period in,
perhaps a recalcitrant comma. You know the drill.

What happened last year or several years ago when Bill and I house
sat an incredibly lovely condo on Lake in Pasadena? I remember
thinking about our beloved landlord, that I would pleat the moon for
him. Where do these images come from? I don’t know, and now
yesterday I thought, nice phrases to throw in for prompts, and if I
were really a sincere person (it’s questionable), for anyone I loved,I’d iron the stars and fold the rain into nice sheets, perfectlyedged and folded, the way my husband’s mom, Anna, trained her first born to do the laundry.

It all sounds so much easier this laundry detail rather than paying
attention to the cacophony of voices on the news with each pundit
giving his, her opinion, adding to the lace doilies of opinions,
crocheting to the sky, the endless tracking in threads, minute and
large, of the politicians and how they play.

The crocodiles are still in, and that’s why I suggested dental twine
for crocodiles, a good business to go into. Our world is not ready
for integrity, but the people hunger for ingathering, and a
groundswell is seen beyond race, color, a thirst for a hayride to a
cliff where Rhetoric in the form of old straw gets thrown over a
canyon and naught can be heard but an encouraging word, “ack” and
life goes on.

So here we are in Act XXIV of the Decline and Fall, and yet, new
forces emerge. Thank goodness for the anonymous amongst us, who
continue to live with goodwill and integrity and above all, courage
to forge through and know in reality, we are all one, different,
blessedly so, but one. And this, these words are my offerings for
the paper – pure and white, after the poem.

Lyricism and grit, it’s all a dance.

Today’s writing prompts!

1.    Given the circumstances….

2.    In the Shadow of …..

3.    Today, as never before …

4.    Multiplicity of choice

5.    A day, a moment, an hour, I’ll not forget

6.    The pages are still blank

Did you know there’s a type of bug or spider that runs along in the
Iraqi desert by the figure running, and he/it/she is vicious and has
teeth and will give a deadly bite, but it hides in the shadows. I
read a biography of a doctor’s time in Iraq, a time where her
husband, a Marine also, stayed home with the twins (toddlers) and her
mom and dad came in to do heavy duty grandparent duty. I can’t
remember the title of the book, and given the multiplicity of books
now emerging, can’t remember. Today, as never before, a plethora of
memoir on the war; did I say war? I meant wars emerges, and I think
all valid. It is time to give voice to a day, a moment, an hour, and
those who do will cause me to think and feel, and say, “I’ll not
forget.”

The pages are still blank as far as our future history goes. Did we
go down that random vortex of unimaginable horror, like living In the
Shadow of Angkor, written and edited by a friend Sharon May, and also
Frank Stewart, a University of Hawaii Press publication?

Today as never before, did I say that? Today as never before, the
forces of light and darkness duke it out, and how can one forget
moments. Yes my world is still as small as a canary yellow and white
cough drop paper bag, and a picture of a very fat, curly tailed pug,
with stocky front legs resting on a small child’s red chair, but over
this is the heaviness of what is happening out there; out beyond the
insulation of our culture and those who romp and play on a Fantasy
Island, like Pinocchio, and mercifully, there is always beauty in the
world, and prose of horrors overcome, as in Anghkor.

I am reminded of a weekend course on the foundation of education
building a world society, and realizing we are in a paradigm shift,
and it is uncomfortable, but current educational practices are based
on getting all of us through a system as the Industrial Revolution,
and that won’t work.

Now is the time for us to enable capacity and connection and
authentic perceptions, and spiritual insight. We are children of a
half light emerging into a global civilization which must consider
that we have come of age spiritually and it’s time to throw down all
shibboleths (is that a word) of difference and pulsate on hoping our
tattered world will win the battle of old egos as in old dinasours.
But I am dangerously near preaching or lecturing, and the heart,
anyone’s heart will go into heels dug into the ground, don’t push me
into a way of thinking, but to end with a remembrance of a day I’ll
not forget is to remember 9/11 after the airplanes’ destructive
paths, before politicians’ games of power, a blank space, like the
action potential of the cell before it hits the synapses, and a blank
time where we were cylindrical in our unity and our caring for the
other; we seemed to be enwrapped in columns of blue misty caring, and
we were one – giving new meaning to prayer as a state of being.

Found this image under “four line poem” and note the 5th column, oh well, nothing is black and white. I am prompter for writing group this week; and i think this was something i suggested from Kurt Vonnegut-the basic idea is to write a four line poem before you good to bed; make it as good as you can and don’t show it; the creativity is the reward, but of course, typical writer, i show; 4 lines on computer different from 4 lines pasted into spot; c’est la vie!

Four lines travel across a page

Does “before you go to bed” mean before a nap because my eyelids droop as I am back
From walking urban blocks, for exercise, a checkout at a consignment store, cough drops and Nan bread at Trader Joe’s – bless me father for I won’t eat more than my allotted

My world is bound by cough drops of the herbal kind, a husband who is tottering, a good sign indeed, tottering rather than near death like a week ago, wanted to stay weak and now in Pasadena uptown that is where the streets are wide, and quiet reigns, I think it’s all a prompt this life; one prompt after another, transforming, plunging, changing.

Ever listen to the Zen noise of your computer on promising you life beyond your borders where communication pulsates or lurches, take your pick and you find, you can bear or bare, oh dear, just about anything even misspelling, as long as you are connected to the chair, the floor, outside a squeaky screen door to the ones you love out there and here?

I’d like a dog, the idea of a dog, maybe like the Tarjay (Target) dog, white with gorgeous red eye, or maybe a beigy French bull whose ears point to Mars, both sides, and whose white tummy needs rubbing or maybe a pug to snort and shed pug hairs around his Napoleonic existence, and this is not to be so – time to cruise pug websites instead

My life is made up of beeping sounds of phone off hook so Bill can nap; and 1-800 numbers and an open cough drop bag, a small book The Hidden Words, open books about 25 of them, witness to the attention span deficit of my ways, and images, lots of images, one of Steve Pulley’s email, reminding me I am prompter; a friend indeed

Gotta go take that nap – white velvet pulls at my eyelids, and my bones feel like candle wax melting, and the bed, flat, smooth, near a half opened mullioned window beckons, even beyond the promise of lunch, crisp hot Nan, with golden margarine swimming over its blackened crust, sleep and then health and then be there calls.