I am used to celebrate it twin-style - Tamizh and Gujarati. We have an elaborate golu to show off our Tam Bram heritage and we also participate in the local dandiya fest as typical Mumbaites. My golu is an extremely integral part of my life and takes a significant share of my kid-time memories.  For the uninitiated, golu, simply put, is a display of figurines (usually of gods and mythological characters) on odd number of 'steps'. Gah!!! I am not explaining this very clearly. Take a look -

Thank you! Thank you! I know its awesome and I am insanely proud of it. Though I have no idea why this whole ritual was initiated, my guess would be that it was done to showcase (literally) people's hidden talents. This whole ensemble takes humungous effort, time and patience as also a year round preparation to boot. I know, not everyone may take it so seriously like us. Anything and everything we see, is with a will-this-be-somehow-useful-in-golu look. Like, the iron piece standing in for a readymade kolam (rangoli, in Hindi) was part of our side-table in the living room. We took it off since it made the small table toooo heavy. The marble pieces serving as a border line for the golu were taken at the time of our house renovation from the contractor with us alternating between threats, bribes and down right theft. See, it does get our creativity to the fore ;)

Some background material - Golu was probably compulsory in the years gone by but like many other traditions and customs has been cast away by the majority. They are not to be blamed considering the sheer amount of time involved! The most important figurines of the golu are 'mara pachi' (figurines made of wood), which you can see in the pic above (Just above the Rama, Lakshman, Sita set). These are first to be kept on the golu  and the first to be taken off. People who are not able to do a full fledged golu usually display atleast the 'mara pachi'. These and other figurines are usually handed down through generations and are something akin to family hierlooms. The other requirement is that the number of 'steps' has to be an odd number. The yester-years did boast of many '9 step' houses but space and time constrains have led to an average of '5 steps' in today's times. Having done this, it is customary to invite every female member of every family you know for 'vethalapaaku'. A typical 'vethalapaaku' comprises of even number of beetle leaves, beetlenut, turmeric pieces and a fruit, usually a banana. The married ladies are given a coconut in addition to this. New age fads include wall hangings, small boxes, kumkum holders, etc as part of the 'vethalapaaku'. This is always accompanied by 'sundal' which is nothing but roasted daal (every daal makes a different yummy sundal). This sundal is an offering to the Gods of the Golu which is then distributed to the invited ladies. Sometimes sundal is replaced with laddu or kesari but mostly it reigns supreme on these 10 days on account of its ease of preparation. The 9th day is 'Saraswati Puja' and the 10 day festival is concluded with 'Vijayadasami'. On the day of the  Saraswati Puja, we keep before Godess Saraswati a sample of all our learning material like study books, music instruments, ghungroo, etc. This is to thank her for her blessings and pray that we propser in all the literary and fine arts. These are kept for a day in front of the Goddess and taken out on 'Vijayadasami' which is said to be the most auspicious day to start any new venture, be it studies, music, dance, business, work, whatever.... It is also a day when we pay respects to our teachers who teach us these divine arts.

The golu  in my house started a couple of years after I was born. My dad, being elated on having such a charming daughter (*blush blush*), decided to start the yearly custom. Initally we used woodden boxes and stacks of newspapers on a table and 'built' the 3 'steps' which were then covered with a white cloth, usually a unused veshti (dhoti).  As is custom, we added a figurine every year, usually more and the Golu  grew bigger and better. Due to many constraints we could never manage to keep over 5 steps. With the collection growing year on year we needed a new idea. Eureka! Dad came up with this whole concept of keeping a section of the display on the floor just before the 5 steps. Actually you can say he pioneered it, atleast in our locality. We commenced this with a huge thermecol cut-out of the India map with a figurine in each state dressed in the specific traditional wear. Around 12 years ago, my mother remembered her childhood dream of having semi-circular steps instead of the usual straight laced ones. We hunted for a carpenter who could understand my mother's vision and translate it into reality. It was not easy to find one in Mumbai cos few people there understood what a golu  was all about. We finally found our dream man who did a splendid job of creating a dismantle-able 5 step golu padi. Thankfully mom had the presence of mind to photograph each stage of the assembly line which, in later years, was put to very effective use as a guide for future assemblers.

If golu is all about creativity then I can assure you it definetely serves the purpose. All of us at home have come up with various themes, ideas and art work to enhance the display or hide some flaw in it. We have spent nights and days working on it and the end product usually took our breath away. We have drawn, painted, weaved, built so many golus and each one has been a cherished experience and have left us eagerly awaiting the next one. In the 3 months prior, all converstaions invariably turned to the theme of the year -what to do? how to do? what to buy? where to buy? I clearly remember my brother and me fighting to display our favorite dolls in the centre position or the one with maximum prominence. A couple of figurines were the ones handed over to us by our grandmom who never failed to remind us every year that she bought it for just a rupee some 40 years ago. You wont believe but that figurine still retains its charm and does not look a day older than 5 years. Golu  brings to me million fond memories of the 2 decades gone by...... Another purpose I see in keeping a golu  is that you get to meet everyone of your acquaintances. Thanks to the custom of inviting all females, we meet all our friends and relatives during these 10 days. It feels wonderful to catch up with them on the year gone by with promises to keep in touch more regularly. In fact there are people I meet only on these days since catching up otherwise becomes almost impossible. When it comes to my dad's friends, even the guys turn up using this opportunity to meet the rest of the gang at one place. This is the only time I dress up, rather deck up with all the jewels my mom possesses. In the last few years I even took to wearing a saree leading to compliments and the usual its-time-to-get-you-married dialogue. My personal custom is to buy a new saree for Vijayadasami. If you want a logic for it, here goes - as I mentioned, this day is the most auspicious day to start anything. So I start my shopping for the year with a new saree. Hows that for logic? ;)

I do have a new saree this year but no golu. I am married and I was so keen to get back home and have other conversations with those sweet aunties who would come home for vethalapaaku, instead of the usual time-to-get-you-married lines. This time I realised how much I love this festival and how I looked forward to it every year. Though I troubled mom by postponing my share of duties, though I gave her a earful when she asked me to dress up, though I sometimes got totally bugged with the sacrifice of my sleep for golu  preparations, though I had to go around door-to-door and invite everyone to come home- inspite of all that, I still love it. I want to do it over and over again. I want to go through each of these experiences and then stand proud next to my golu to take a picture and put it on this blog.

What I want to write about now isn't really in direct response to something either of them has said, though they both have some thoughtful, interesting, insightful things to say. Rather, their responses actually reminded me of what I was initially thinking about when I first wanted to write about me and my struggle to find a church. I didn't get to it in the first post because what I write here not often thought out completely. I kinda do that as I go along. Plust, I was getting sick (which I now am, officially), so I was pretty much coming in and out of it as I wrote. So, anyway, what I forgot is what follows.

I grew up attending a very traditional Southern Baptist church in suburban Jackson, MS. I loved it. I really did. That might surprise some of you who know my struggles with those kinds of churches as of late and with the SBC in particular. But I really only have good memories of those years. Sure it had its problems (I won't hash them out here; it's beside the point) but the people of that church instilled in me values, theology and a knowledge of God that has shaped who I am today. I was baptised at that church. I attended VBS every summer and dreamed of when I'd get to be in the youth group. My best friend's dad was on staff at the church. It seems like I was there all the time.

Now that church is all but dead, another mostly-empty church building (though this one of more traditional church architecture; it has a steeple and stained glass and everything) in a declining part of town. What happened? Any number of things, probably. I don't know. My family had moved by the time it really had to try to weather some real problems, not the least of which was staying traditional and fundamental in the midst of the changing church culture in America.

But as I think back, that tradition is something that I miss the most.

Every Sunday morning we would close the service by all standing and singing together "The Doxology," which is really just the last verse to another hymn called "Awake, My Soul, and with the Sun." If you were raised in a church like mine (and so many of us were) then you probably know the lyrics already. But if you weren't and, therefore, you don't, I've printed them for you below.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost;

Amen

Every Sunday from as long as I can remember until we moved our church membership when I was in the eighth grade, we sang that song, loud, boisterous and triumphant to the accompaniment of a piano and a huge pipe organ. For the longest time I wasn't even sure what the words were. I never saw them printed or was told where to look in the hymnal. Everyone just seemed to know them and eventually I did too. There was a mystery to it. It felt completely different than anything else I did during the week. It felt more sacred. Older. Other.

Just after Thansgiving we would dedicate a Sunday evening service to the "Hanging of the Greens" where we decorated the church for Christmas and officially began the Advent season that we would celebrate for the following four Sundays. During this service we would decorate two Christmas trees that flanked the pulpit. Only, they weren't called Christmas trees. They were called Chrismon trees because they weren't to be decorated with mere ornaments, but rather with chrismons, symbols from the life of Christ and His Church. You can google "chrismon" if you're completely unfamiliar with what I'm talking about but these would be ornaments in the shapes of shepherd staffs or chalices or mangers or crosses or flames, etc. The list could go on.

I remember there were hundreds of them. There would be tables in the lobby of the sanctuary covered in chrismons. On your way into the service, everyone in attendance would pick one up. And there was an unspoken rule amonst the adults that they were to never take the grapes. You see, all of the chrismons were decorated in white and gold... all, that is, except for the grapes, which were covered in purple and green sequins. These were left for us kids to try to get to first. If you were one of the lucky ones to get a bunch of grapes as your chrismon then you were the shiz.

The highlight of the service (well, the highlight for me and everyone else I knew) was when the pastor would go through the chrismons one at a time, carefully explaining to all present what that particular symbol represented and meant. If he was talking about your chrismon, then it was time for you to go and hang it on one of the two trees. You have no idea how much my knowledge of the story of Jesus was reinforced by hearing about those symbols year after year.

So, why do I bring those two things up? Because, in many ways, they epitomize "tradition" and have all but been abandoned in most modern churches (at least the ones I've visited). I mean, who sings "ye" in a song anymore? Yet they are representative of some of the things I miss the most. Sure, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but the memories I have about my practice of church in those years goes way beyond simple nostalgia.

Now, my problem isn't that I can't find a church that sings the doxology or decorates with chrismons at Christmas. If you remember, the main reason I gave for my recent absence in church attendance was that I have struggled endlessly to find one that I like. Yet when I think back the things that I "liked" are not things that I would be looking for now or that, if I encountered them, I would say that I did like.

My point is that my perspective is skewed. I'm looking for the wrong thing. A lot of us are. Neil's 100% correct. Of course, I hope Jen is too in that we are now far enough removed from the "worship wars" to recognize that thinking it was a war in the first place is ludicrous and that we can now have a greater appreciation for all expression and practice of worship of the one true God.

I wanted to write all this to basically say that I'm wrong. I've been doing it wrong. I want to fix that and do it right. It's just not that easy, though maybe it should be, but I'm working on it.

Though, if the next church I walked in had a table covered in styrofoam grape-bunches decorated with colored sequins it would make my deicision about which church to attend a lot easier.

Here are some interesting quotes from Msgr. George Agius, D.D., J.C.D., on "the infallible sixth sense" of the Catholic Church.

"All these titles are easily divided into two classes, as is evident from their meaning: When they convery the idea of intelligence or conscience in the Teaching Church under the charism of the Holy Ghost, they mean that 'Divine Tradition' which animates, apprises and acquaints the Church with the necessary knowledge to understand, keep and explain the Deposit of Faith. In this sense, the subject which is imbued, apprised and molded by Tradition is the Teaching Church--called with the names of 'Catholic Intellect,' 'Conscience of Faith,' 'Ecclesiastical Sense,' 'Ecclesiastical Intelligence.' All other titles, designating the Depost of Faith--which is kept, explained and delievered by the same Teaching Church--signify that 'Divine Tradition' which is the object of our Faith and which must be kept and explained by the Teaching Church. Hence it is termed the 'Ecclesiastical Preaching,' the 'Rule of Piety,' 'the Rule of Apostolic Truth,' the 'Rule of Faith,' etc." (Tradition and the Church [TAN Books, 2005], p. 238)

"Since the Church is in possession of the Deposit of Faith, of which the Scriptures are the most important part, it follows that it is the Holy Ghost who keeps forever in the Church, not only the material part of the Scriptures, but also the 'Catholic Undersanding.' For in order that the Church my render an authentic and infallible judgment on these Scriptures, her guardianship must not be limited to mere words and forms. It must inclulde in whatever sense those words and forms have, their true sense and their genuine intellect. Instructed by that 'Intellect,' the Church is the infallible interpreter of the Scriptures, although the cause of her infallibility is ultimately the attributed to the assistance of the Holy Ghost." (Ibid., p. 241)

"There are many texts whose genuine sense the Church has declared and defined by its authentic interpretation. . . [e.g., Jn 10:30; Matt 28:19; Ja 5:14-15; Jn 3:5; 20:23] . . . These and many others [sic] passages have been interpreted, declared and explained by the Roman Pontiffs and by the Councils of the Church. Their judgment is the fruit and the result of that Holy Ghost, which animates, informs and moves the Church to act. This judgment or definition, being infallible, must therefore be simply accepted as the only 'Rule of Intelligence' by which we can understand and know the sense of a certain text. Hence, all other auxiliary means assumed from philosophy, archeology, grammar, context, aim of the author and all other instruments of interpretaton must be subordinated and conformed to it. If they are so directed, they will show that the sense declared by the Church is also scientifically true. Consequently, if through any human or scientific means we reach a different sense than the one of which we are made certain of through the authority of the Church, we should admit the fallacy of own interpretation, either because of the improper use or of the insufficiency of the means at our disposal. Something is wanting or not properly applied." (Ibid., pp. 245-246)

"Not every part of Sacred Scripture has been defined. There are many difficult places in Scripture--as well as many doctrines believed by the Faithful--on which the Roman Pontiffs and General Councils of the Church have never pronounced. In these cases, we must always have recourse to the 'Catholic Intellect,' or 'Conscience of the Faith' of the Universal Church, as the 'Canon of Interpretation.' . . .

"The authors, inspired by the Holy Ghost, taught truths in words which they afterwards mentioned in the Scriptures, though not in the same words as we use to explain Indulgences, Confession, Immaculate Conception, Confirmation, Ordination, Extreme Unction and so forth; nevertheless, they were intelligible to their hearers. They possessed a more intimate knowledge through the preaching of the Apostles. It was exactly this intimate knowledge of the first Christians which remains in the Church today. It forms that 'Catholic Intelligence' which, under the assistance of the Holy Ghost, enables the Church to discern the true sense of the Scriptures." (Ibid., pp. 250, 252)

This Hindu festival is celebrated in Purattasi month (tamil lunar month  around Sep -October) starting from the Mahalaya Amavaasai (no moon day) for 10 days(Dusshera). During these 10 days Goddess Durga (Ichcha Shakti) , Goddess Lakshmi (Kriya Shakti) and Goddess Saraswathi(Gnana Shakthi) serve as the main deities and are allocated 3 days each.  The first 3 days are specific to Goddess Parvathy. The next 3 for Goddess Lakshmi. The last 3 for Goddess Saraswathi. The 9th day is "Saraswathi Puja or Ayudha Puja" when everyone gives their tools of the trade -- pens, machinery, books, automobiles, school work, etc. a rest and ritually worships them. On the 10th day, all of these 3 deities are worshipped together to culminate the puja. The 10th day is "Vijayadashami" ; an auspicious day to start any new endeavour, the day when gurus are paid homage by all the students.

Why do we celebrate this? In the south, it is acknowledge the victory of good over evil by the killing of the "asura" Mahishi by the Goddess Chandika (who then on was called Mahishasuramardhini). Goddess Chandika is an embodiment of the 3 Shaktis.

In Tamil Nadu, we celebrate the festival by arranging dolls on steps, inviting friends and family. Traditionally, the women and girls invited are given the "tamboolam" that consists of betel leaves, turmeric, betel nut, the day's offering to the Goddess (usually a "sundal"), fruits, coconut. Off late, a small gift is also added. This festival enables the mingling of friends, neighbours. This is a social festival. The women and girls invited are asked to exhibit their talent in singing or even dancing. The arrangement of the dolls on the steps allows the exhibition of the artistic aptitude. Even if one just arranges all the dolls on the steps, it encourages the artisans who make the dolls which could be of any material - Clay, papier mache, wood, wax, plastic, paper....Obviously, it also includes dress up. Small girls even dress up specially (I remember being in the traditional madisars, wore mundu, and just experimented....rather I guess my mom had fun with me not really complaining up to an age ;) ). There are households these days which base the arrangement on themes. A friend of mine has alien invasion, another has handmade dolls by her 80 + year old grandma portraying Ramayana & Krishna katha. Global warming, pollution, current affairs also find their place. There are competitions in neighbour hoods under different categories.

The number of steps are supposed to be odd in number (3,5,7...). One adds a "park" alongside where in the kids pitch in with their imagination. On the religious side, apart from the two major pujas mentioned above, a fast or vratham is followed with a diet of no onion/garlic; those who take meat avoid it. Daily pujas are done with emphasis to the Goddess - slokas like the Lalitha Sahasranamam, Soundarya Lahiri are read. Daily offering is made in the form of "sundal". Lamp is lit by the "kolu" (the steps arrangement).

Below are a few pics of the kolu we have at my place this year. It is a smaller version; thanks to space constraints. Supposedly, A and his space take precedence...so the kolu has shrunk :) I posted the pics just to give an idea of how the kolu looks like in most houses. This year, we just placed the dolls on the steps, no themes or anything...more keen on taking care that A does not break the dolls that have come down generations even :D Though, credit to my dear son, he is a gem...he loved placing them oh so tenderly on the steps.

Ooh...I forgot...placing of the kolu...usually, people place the kalasam first. The Kalasam is usually a pot made of silver filled with either water or rice. Some put a set of tamboolam inside. And end up putting mango leaves around the rim with a coconut on top. We at my place for some personal reasons, don't do the traditional kalasam but place a doll replica. Then Lord Ganesha's idol is placed. Followed by "marapachi" dolls. These dolls can be decorated (or buy those that already are ;) ) A and I have that as our next project - decoration of the marapachi pair :D. Then the rest of the dolls are placed. Usually, most houses would have the dasavatharam, chettiar-chettichi selling their produce, dolls depicting a traditional wedding, along with dolls of other deities like the 3 Shaktis, Lord Shiva, Lord Vishnu, Lord Muruga. We get various sets to depict the various mythological stories (My mother reminisces how her grandma used to actually position or make various dolls to depict these stories...whereas we all have it so easy; yet we crib about doing the kolu thing!!)

You can click on the picture for larger/album view.

That is a common question around our neighborhood this time of year.  It is a fun neighborhood tradition and I thought I would share it here so that others can start the tradition in their neighborhoods if "The Phantom" isn't already visiting.   

If The Phantom visits your house, you receive some anonymous goodies, a picture of a phantom, and a note that says:

GOOD EVENING!!

If you don't want a curse to be wished on your house, you must make (or buy) treats and deliver them to two houses in the neighborhood.

You only have one day to complete the task.

So hurry!

Post the Phantom on your door until Halloween.  This will ward off the Phantom from haunting you.  Copy this letter and Phantom for each home and deliver them to two families that don't have a Phantom posted.

Spread the Halloween Spirit!!!

Every October The Phantom visits our neighborhood.  It is a fun family activity to drive around the neighborhood to see which families don't have a phantom posted and then to make or assemble treats (last year we included some plastic headstones we found at the dollar store with our treats) and then deliver them.  Since our family is so big we usually divide into two groups, each group delivering to a different family in the neighborhood.  Hub and I let the kids do the tiptoeing up to the door.  They ring the doorbell and then run away as fast as they can.  We've made it our tradition to have hot chocolate or some other treat when we return from playing Phantom.

It is fun to see Phantoms start showing up all over the neighborhood, and by Halloween most houses have a Phantom posted.

If the Phantom has never visited your neighborhood you and your family might want to invite him yourself.  Be the first to start the tradition and watch it grow!

Happy October! 

Par ce jour ensoleillé 

Pourquoi n'es-tu pas en train de courir

Dans la nature avec les autres?

Battre de tes petits pieds

Si agiles et lestes,

La poussière de ta terre natale

Ces larmes qui se dessinent

Sur ton visage

Maquillé de poussière 

Sous le poids de ta douleur

Confie toi à la nature,

Si tu ne peux te reposer sur l'homme

Parle avec le fromager du village

Lui au moins te comprendra mieux.

Pourquoi pleures-tu fillette...?

On pourrait écrire à l'infini

Mais je m'arrêterai là...

L'image vous dira le reste, ce que vous ignorez, ce qu'elles ignorent,

ce dont elles ont hérité....

Texte de Hortense Kanhan (Willykean)

Photo: Amy Vitale

Cette photo illustre la souffrance que subissent les fillettes, et les femmes dans certains pays de l'afrique de l'ouest.

L'excision, on en parle sur Doctissimo et sur wikipedia est une pratique ancestrale qui perdure encore aujourd'hui malgré les nombreuses campagnes pour éradiquer cette violence faite aux femmes.

Je ne peux parler d'excision sans parler de Katoucha.

Katoucha fût la première top model noir en France mais aussi une figure emblématique de la lutte contre l'excision.

Elle nous a quitté en laissant en friche un combat qui touche plus d'une. On retient cette allure féline de, ces yeux de chat, qui illuminait les podiums, mais aussi et surtout le combat qu'elle menait contre l'excision.

En 1994, Katoucha raccroche et crée sa propre collection? Peu avant sa mort, elle s'était lancé un nouveau défi: lutter contre les ravages de la dépigmentation, trop courante en afrique, et l'excision.

Dans une autobiographie, publiée en 2007, , Dans ma chair, elle révélait l'excision subie à l'âge de neuf ans en Guinée, son pays de naissance, et son mariage forcé.

 " J'avais besoin de confesser ces moments douloureux. Ce livre est une sorte de thérapie. Mais j'espère ainsi aider d'autres femmes ou fillettes en détresse".

Elle avait crée l'association "Katoucha pour la lutte contre l'excision".

Elle combattait  un adversaire non palpable, bien enraciné dans l'esprit des population d'afrique subsahérienne : l'ignorance et la tradition. Ami Vitale, comme beaucoup d'autres est convaincue que la meilleure manière de l'éradiquer , c'est de donner aux filles l'accès à l'éducation. Aider sans imposer, proposer des mesures de remplacement.

Et les petites filles arrêteront de pleurer....

[Sculptor at Work by Norman Garstin]

In “The Humanism of Existentialism,” Jean-Paul Sartre articulates his famous formulation: “Existence precedes essence.” Following the Nietzschean pronouncement that “God is dead,” Sartre means by this that there are no pre-established values given from above (which really is but the “tradition”) that provides man an “essence” (fixed, eternal, universal) by which he must live. Rather, man creates and chooses values on his own.

The concept of God, Sartre says, is really the conception of “God as the Creator [. . .] thought of as a superior sort of artisan” that forges and fashions man according to some image (in Christianity, the image of God itself (thus man is created in God’s image))—in the same way that a human artisan shapes objects or tools (e.g. a paper-cutter) for some purpose (e.g. to cut paper) based on the concept of what the object is to be (e.g. something that can be handled by man to cut paper) (34-5). This, Sartre notes, is a technological view of things whereby (in a diluted form of Heidegger’s phenomenology) “essence—that is, the ensemble of both the production routines and the properties which enable it to be both produced and defined—precedes existence” (34). While appropriate for objects and tools, Sartre asserts that this is not the way that human beings exist.

Proudly brandishing the atheistic existentialism that he claims he represents, Sartre argues that “there is no human nature, since there is no God to conceive it” (36). Rather, “man [simply] exists, turns up, appears on the scene, and, only afterwards, defines himself” (35-6). This is how man is “at first nothing” (36). There is no pre-established “essence” (set by God) that defines what man is (since there is no God). Already—first and foremost—existing, man, well, simply exists. What happens afterwards, what becomes of man, how he (eventually) defines himself—this is a determination afterward that depends on man himself (e.g. on what he does)—which is then what comes to be considered as his “essence.” As Sartre says, “Only afterwards will [man] be something, and he himself will have made what he will be” (35-6). Essence—defined by man himself—who already and first and foremost exists—thus comes later. (Man-made) essence comes after existence. Existence precedes essence.

This formulation (and the definition of God as transcendent creator), while existentialist (in asserting the primacy (in time) of existence over essence), falls short of atheism. As Sartre states, “If God does not exist, there is at least one being in whom existence precedes essence, a being who exists before he can be defined by any concept” (35). “This being is [of course none other than] man”—the same being to whom (as in the artisan illustration above) Sartre gives the power of defining essence—not only for himself but for other beings as well (as in the paper-cutter example, where man defines what he has created as a “paper-cutter”) (35).

The implication is that while he himself is not subject to any pre-defined concepts (since there is no God to define them), all other beings are subject to man’s assignment of them as the thing in which they function (e.g. pigs assigned as pork, i.e. as something for man to eat) and to man’s shaping of them into their current form (e.g. metal turned into a paper-cutter). Man of course performs this assignment—this “creation”—with the help of concepts in his head—with which he defines the “essence” of the other beings. Unlike God who does not exist, then, man “creates” things by imposing an essence on them based on what he needs/wants—i.e. man, like God, “creates” beings according to his will—which to the existentialist is what differentiates man from all other beings (what gives “man [. . .] greater dignity than a stone or a table” or an animal (36)). Thus is Sartre’s existentialism a humanism.

In Sartre’s system, thus, there is no transcendent creator that imposes a pre-set essence on man. There is only man over and above—transcendent—all other beings that imposes their essence (how they are to be, based on what man wills). Thus Sartre dethroned God and put existentialist man in its place. Thus man—thanks to his imposition of essence (his ability to conceptualize and make those concepts apply to other beings)—becomes God. This of course does not mean that Sartre endows man with all the powers that the tradition(s) endows “God” or that the two versions of God have the same implications (i.e. that their “rule” look the same), but in Sartre, essence-creating existentialist man does play the role of God. In this sense, Sartre does take a step away from the tradition—but he certainly does not go as far as Deleuze and Guattari when they develop the anti-Oedipal subject.

Bibliography
Sartre, Jean-Paul. Essays in Existentialism. Edited by Wade Baskin. New York: Kensington Publishing Corp, 1993.

It was a normal saturday morning at our home.  I had to take my puppies to the vet.  When I got home, outside, on the verandah, I could hear music playing and there was a massive seafood feast awaiting me with a chilled bottle of bubbly.

Rahim came out and told me to take a seat, and we both sat down and had a beautiful meal whilst watching the sunset.  We have just bought a large block of land and it was very serene to sit and watch the sun go down in the comfort of our new home.

Rahim was saying the most beautiful thngs to me!!  After we had eaten ALL the seafood, I went inside where Rahim had ran me a beautiful candle lit bath.  (i still hadnt clicked as to what was going on!!)  He told me to relax and brought me another glass of champas.  It was so great.  I sat in the bath for ages thinking about how special he had made me feel.  Once I got out of the bath, he took me to our dining room, where he had made me a really beautiful dinner.

At the end of the table was a large box with a ribbon around it (it was now that my heart started to pound!!)

He asked me to open the box, inside was another box, then another box, then, another etc, till I had opened about 7 boxes!!!  I was giggling and crying at the same time - amazing emotion!  At the last box there was a beautiful diamond ring.  He got down on his knee and asked me to marry him!

It was so lovely.  Funny part is, amongst all of this going on - I still hadnt got dressed form my bath!!!!  That made us laugh for ages - and still does!

Kiss The Bride For all your wedding needs.

We were lying in bed and Raph rolled over and whispered in my ear "marry me". I hit him and said to not joke about something like that. He then said he wasnt joking and again said "marry me". I cried and then we cuddled all night. Then next morning he woke me up early and took me out for breakfast at this little cafe we always went too. We then went and picked out rings together, we found one that was made for us, it was perfect, so he bought it on the spot. We took a two hour drive together, down to a secluded area near the river where we had a picnic (one of my favourite things to do) and that is where he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him and gave me the ring. We had a lovely lunch and once we were full we drove home to tell both of our parents. It was the most amazing day of my life and I was spoilt by how fantastic the day was and how amazing Raph was. Just to add in something, although it was a big suprise, he had already asked my mum and brother, whom I am very close to for permission two weeks earlier.

Kiss The Bride For all your wedding needs.

Yesterday in Turre was a wonderful day for my special bullfight paintings exhibition at the Plaza de Toros. But a surprise awaited us there. We thought there would be nobody until 4 o'clock, one hour before the corrida starts, but as we arrived the place was full. People and cars everywhere. I must confess that I felt quite scared at that moment and wanted to drive back home. But instead, I thought to take the bull by the horns. I had spotted a police car somewhere and equipped with tons of feigned self-assurance I entered the arena in search of the policemen. I met a man. who, apparently, was in charge of the organisation. I asked him:

"Do you know where the police are?"

He looked at me scared.

"Why, has something happened?"

Funny, really... I guess he was then very relieved as I told him about my bullfight paintings stuff! He was then so kind to follow me outside and discuss with me how I imagined to mount the exhibition, considering the quantity of cars and people everywhere. Thinking that I had not much to lose by being cheeky, I explained to him quickly my ideal plan, i.e:

"...right by the entrance and take as much room as possible!"

This was indeed much too cheeky and he said:

"Well, then, we will wait for the mayor and I will discuss the subject with him. He will be here soon."

Rich of former experiences with town halls and mayors, I thought that nothing would happen, neither soon nor late, and I was prepared to wait there the whole day.

I could not believe it as 5 minutes later, the mayor stood in front of me, extending his hand, telling me that he was aware of the exhibition and proposing me to organise it exactly where and how I wanted!

No doubt:

I will vote for him at the next election!

You have no idea how happy I am to live now in a nice little Spanish town, which shows so much respect and unconventionality for art and new ideas. This really was the last drop to make me feel totally home.. as I met Kevin, I felt emotionally home, but now, I even feel home geographically!!!

We mounted the exhibition, had loads of fun and visitors, and even the firemen (los bomberos) arrived (see picture above!) in case some anti-bullfight fanatics would set fire to my paintings. What a service, really!

Even the Star bullfighter of the corrida, Jesus Almeria, came with part of his staff and had a long look at my paintings, and declared some as very beautiful. He even paused for a photo with me.

Great, kind and humble guy!

Nothing to do with the macho type some people imagine that these matadors are!

It was great to see him fighting his two bulls later on ... Bravo Jesus, and  the others ones too, Julio Benitez El Cordobes and Alejandro Carmona,  with whom we spent two wonderful hours after the exhibition!

]]> http://sharavati.wordpress.com/?p=241 Mon, 06 Oct 2008 06:08:12 +0000 swaps http://sharavati.da.wordpress.com/2008/10/06/russians-at-dasara/
Two Russian dance troupes participated at Youth Dasara. As always, we were wondering if they have any bones in their bodies :)

Doch obwohl die Paella heute das Nationalgericht der Comunidad Valenciana ist, erfreut sich ganz Spanien ihrer Beliebheit. Die Paella Valenciana wird hauptsächlich mit Fleisch (Huhn, Kaninchen und Schweinerippen) sowie mit Gemüse zubereitet. Regionale Abwandlungen, die sich vor allem in den beigefügten Zutaten äußern, lassen aber für jeden Geschmack Platz. So erblickt man auch selten die Paella anstatt mit gelbem Reis mit schwarzem Reis (arroz negro) oder mit fideos (Fideuá). Selbstverständlich entbehrt auch die vegetarische Abwandlung (paella de verdura) nicht an Geschmack. Ohne Frage zählt jedoch die Paella-Variante mit Fisch zu den beliebtesten.

Das nachfolgend aufgeführte Rezept mit den dazugehörigen Zutaten, ist das "Martin´sche Hausrezept"

Zutaten für vier Portionen: 1 komplette Knoblauchknolle, 1-2 geschälte Tomate(n), 100 g frische oder tiefgefrorene Erbsen, rote Paprikaschote, 1 Zitrone, Meeresfrüchte-Mix (z.B. Miesmuscheln, Tintenfisch, Garnelen), eine Prise Safran, 2-3 Tassen Reis (arroz redondo oder Parboiled-Reis)

Zubereitung

• In einer Pfanne reichlich Olivenöl erhitzen
• Tomate(n) schälen und in kleine Stücke schneiden, Paprikaschote(n) in Streifen schneiden, Erbsen und Meeresfrüchte in die Pfanne geben und etwas anbraten
• Reis dazugeben
• Wasser in die Pfanne, bis die Zutaten abgedeckt sind
• mit Salz und Safran würzen und 15 bis 20 Minuten kochen. Das Wasser muß vollständig aufgesaugt werden. Bei Bedarf Wasser dazugießen
• von der Herdplatte nehmen und 5 bis10 Minuten ruhen lassen (in dieser Zeit kann man die Paellera auch mit Alu-Folie abdecken)
• mit Zitronenspalten und Paprikastreifen garnieren und in der Pfanne servieren

Gerade der angebratene Reis im unteren Teil der Pfanne erfreut viele spanische Herzen. Um die Köstlichkeit abzurunden, können Sie gerne Weißbrot, Alioli und Oliven dazu servieren.

I am amazed at how often people will use 'philosophical' arguments to support unscientific positions, such as creationism/intelligent design. 'Philosophical' arguments also seem to play a central role in theology.

Philosophical and logical arguments have their place. In many ways mathematics can be seen as arguments by logic. The danger lies in using them as a substitute for real experience. Such arguments easily become divorced from reality and can then be used to justify conclusions which conflict with reality. In particular they give free reign to subjective opinions, personal prejudices and emotional commitment to conclusions.

I guess that is why some people prefer 'philosophical' and 'logical' arguments to consideration of emprirical evidence.

Being subjective

Of course, everyone is prone to subjectivism. But objective reality is what keeps science honest. Ideas, hypotheses, theories and speculations are expected to be tested and validated by mapping against reality.

Philosophy and logic are used dishonestly when the discussion is just a game and participants grab at arguments to justify their preconceived positions, or to 'shoot down' opponents arguments. 'You can't even prove that you exist' or 'you can't prove that you are not a brain in a vat' arguments are just ways of avoiding the real evidence.

And there is always the way that words are used. Philosophical categories are usually not defined and very often participants will understand them differently. Consider words like 'matter', 'materialism', 'natural', 'supernatural' and 'naturalism.' I often find that the meaning I would give to these words is different to what some others do. Without common meanings discussion becomes a bit irrelevant so I prefer to avoid such terms.

For example, we used to consider 'matter' in a mechanical way. As something with physical substance. That may have been useful a few hundred years ago but is not adequate for our current scientific knowledge. Consequently 'matter' today has a deeper meaning and use of the term in philosophical debate needs to accommodate this. But it very often doesn't.

How often do we hear science being criticised as 'materialist' where 'matter' is assumed to be only something with physical substance. It's a silly criticism because it is using these words in a very archaic way - matter' today has a deeper meaning. When this deeper meaning is understood the 'materialist' criticism is not relevant to modern science as any simple consideration of the history of science will show.

Substituting logic for reality

Logical arguments are also often used in ways which don't take into account modern knowledge. Consequently such arguments which may be true in their abstraction are used to justify conclusions about reality which may be completely wrong. For example conservation laws today are applied in a very different way to 150 years ago when nuclear transformations and the equivalence of mass and energy were not known. Similarly we often hear the 2nd law of thermodynamics being used inappropriately to 'disprove' evolution.

Evedn where 'logical' arguments are used honestly mistakes can be made by applying abstract principles to real life situations. Without empirical checking it is easy to draw the wrong conclusion. The abstract logic cannot be used as a ‘proof.’

I think Monty Python conveyed the problem of a philosophy divorced from reality in their video of the International Philosophers football game. It's an old clip but an excellent one.

Philosophers' football (3 min 47 sec)

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Världen Godaste Bullar 

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Bananbullar

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I alla fall så blev jag erbjuden jobb, när vi besökte bagarstugan och dess tunnbrödsbak. Allt ppg av min trevliga Ångermanländska - och att jag har en folkdräkt, samt jobbar på ett tunnbrödsbageri. Kan ju läsa högt ur Nicke Sjödins "Utanekring" (och förstå vad jag läser), har tidsenliga kläder och har erfarenhet av tunnbröd... Men då jag aldrig hade bakat tunnbröd "för hand på traditionellt vis", avböjde jag erbjudandet. Men nu är det kanske dags att tänka om...

Gjorde debut i Henbygdsgårdens bagarstuga igår kväll! Med ett gäng tonåringar från EFS Ungdomsgrupp. Allt man behöver är en jätte balja med deg, varma kläder, ett förkläde, ett glatt humör och framgången är given. Stämmningen var på topp! Mjölet virvlade, brasan sprakade och det kavlades för fullt. Inte helt enkelt, med väldigt roligt. Och, jag lyckade faktiskt i alla fall med ett bröd :) Det första blev alldeles bränt (läs svart) under (ugnens fel), det andra fick stora hål när den skulle vändas (mitt fel), det tredje vek sig när jag skulle he in det i ugnen (He; ett utmärkt samlingsord för  "sätta, ställa, lägga" osv osv...). Men det fjärde blev runt och fint och nästan perfekt gräddat!!

Det är bara att konstatera - Träning ger färdighet!

Och  nu känner jag att karriären på Skansen närmar sig. Tänk att få stå och baka tunnbröd hela dagarna, med en massa turister som tittar på. I klädd folkdräkt och med ett leende på läpparna läsa ett stycke ur "Utanekring" lite nu och då...!!

Eh, näe, kanske inte... Men någon kväll om året i Hebygdsgårdens bagarstuga kan jag tänka mig!

Hmm, har ju en gammal fallfärdig bagarstuga på gården. Kanske skulle rusta upp den?

"Mooselake thinbread bakery - the traditional way"...

Mosquées, gare routières…

Ce n’est pas Fatema, la mère du petit Anas, qui risque de la contredire. Après avoir été violée par son cousin, elle quitte la maison parentale à Sidi Hajjaj près de Settat et rallie Casablanca. « Il fallait que je parte quelque part où personne ne me reconnaîtrait » se souvient-elle encore. La jeune fille qui n’avait pas encore 20 ans survivait grâce à la mendicité. Elle passait la nuit dans un endroit désert à Bouskoura, « afin de ne pas être la cible d’un chemkar ». En tout et pour tout, six mois dans la rue avant le jour de l’accouchement. A l’hôpital, d’autres mères vont lui parler des associations d’aide pour mères célibataires. Aujourd'hui, forte d’une petite formation chez Solidarité féminine, Fatema est cuisinière dans un grand restaurant de la place. Sa famille ignore toutefois l’existence du petit Anas, aujourd'hui âgé de 8 ans. « Ils vont définitivement me rejeter si je leur raconte cette histoire. Je veux tout simplement m’occuper de mon enfant. Et surtout ne plus avoir d’homme dans ma vie » lâche-t-elle convaincue.
D’autres mère célibataires n’ont pas eu la chance de Fatema. A la gare routière de Ouled Ziane, où tout le Maroc converge, comme à proximité des hôpitaux et des mosquées, on remarque l’existence de petits groupes de femmes et d’enfants. Des dizaines de mères célibataires ont élu domicile à Ouled Ziane. « Nous avons travaillé en collaboration avec le Samu sur ces cas. Cette communauté est principalement formé de mendiantes, mais on retrouve aussi des ouvrières et des prostituées », explique Saïda Bajjou, assistante sociale à Insaf. « Elles ne s’éternisent pas à la gare routière. Quand une jeune fille peut se trouver une adresse chez une copine ou chez quelqu'un de la famille, elle n’hésite pas à quitter les lieux. A Ouled Ziane, on assiste à une double tragédie : des mères sans foyers et des enfants de la rue. Puis il y a le danger imminent d’être victime de viol, parfois collectif », ajoute une autre assistante d’Insaf. L’ONG qui existe depuis 1999 leur assure l’hébergement mais aussi les suivis médicaux et psychologiques, l’accompagnement juridique et une insertion familiale ou professionnelle.

L’honneur des Marocains

Selon une étude réalisée par l’association, l’année dernière, sur un échantillon d’un peu moins de 500 mères célibataires, 81% n’ont pas atteint le niveau secondaire, et 42% sont analphabètes. Par ailleurs, ces femmes, souvent, sont encore de jeunes filles : 9% ont entre 14 et 18 ans, 55% ont de 19 à 26 ans, seules 36% ayant plus de 27 ans. Jeunes et peu instruites, ces femmes sont des femmes de ménage, ou bien plutôt des « petites bonnes » pour 27% d’entre elles selon cette même étude, les ouvrières représentant 24% des effectifs ; le reste étant composé de chômeuses (27%), de situations diverses (14%) et de prostituées (8%). « Les petites bonnes ne savent même pas si l’abus sexuel fait partie ou pas de leur travail » explique Saïda Bajjou. La même situation se retrouvant avec les ouvrières dans les usines textiles des quartiers industriels de Casablanca. Aïcha Chenna rajoute que « toutes les petites bonnes ne sont pas violées, même si c'est très répandu. Elles sont surtout très jeunes, naïves, manquent d’affection, et sont d’autant plus sensibles aux mots d’amour du premier garçon venu leur promettre le mariage ».
Car si le viol est une réalité bien connue, l’essentiel des cas de mères célibataires, selon une enquête réalisée en 2002 par SOS villages d’enfants dans la wilaya du grand Casablanca (sur un large échantillon de 5040 mères célibataires) est constitué de promesses de mariages non tenues (75%). Un constat qui renvoie à la schizophrénie de la société marocaine : « Le problème de la virginité est central. Il y a vraiment une hypocrisie sur cette question au Maroc ». L’honneur de la famille étant considéré comme atteint, de nombreuses filles fuient celle-ci quand elles ne parviennent plus à dissimuler leur ventre rond. Un déchirement supplémentaire, que la famille entérine parfois sans peine : ainsi Nour, 19 ans, a-t-elle tremblé en entendant sa mère au téléphone proclamer qu’elle considérait sa fille comme « morte » au premier contact de réinsertion que l’association Insaf a entrepris avec sa famille.
La naissance de l’enfant est à ce point problématique pour ces femmes qu’elles le nomment spontanément « lmouchkil » (le problème), rapporte Aïcha Chenna. Paradoxalement, les inconnus sont les plus accueillants : Saïda Bejjou assure que « les mères célibataires ne sont jamais seules dans la rue, il y a une véritable solidarité parmi les gens de la rue, les voisins. On ne rejette pas une mère célibataire… tant que ce n’est pas sa propre fille ! » La solidarité des anonymes et des associations joue ici un rôle si crucial qu’on cherche l’engagement de l’Etat sur cette question. Les subventions étatiques rentrent dans le financement de ces associations, mais il n’existe pas encore de centres d’accueil proprement publics. Du moins pas encore, rassure Nouzha Skalli, ministre du Développement social, de la Famille et de la Solidarité : « Le ministère travaille à la création de 16 centres d’accueil et d’hébergement, et soutient des associations d’aide aux mères célibataires ». Saïda Bejjou ne se fait pas d’illusion, sur ce sujet sensible : « L’Etat devrait au moins nous faciliter les procédures administratives et juridiques pour l’établissement de l’état civil au lieu de nous mettre des bâtons dans les roues ».
L’une des revendications majeure des associations de soutien aux mères célibataires est notamment l’obligation des analyses ADN pour les hommes suspectés d’être le père de l’enfant, de façon à lutter contre le phénomène des enfants nés sous X. Aujourd'hui, ces tests ne sont ordonnés que dans le cas de viol ou de fiançailles. Et surtout briser le tabou des cours d’éducation sexuelle à l’école, et sans doute aussi par des campagnes de communication audiovisuelle pour toucher les filles déscolarisées. Car pour le moment, les seuls enseignements dispensés sont les cours très théoriques (et très pudiques) de sciences naturelles. Un constat partagé par Nouzha Skalli : « La plupart des mères célibataires ne sont pas assez informées en matière de contraception. Il nous faudra briser les tabous et généraliser ces enseignements même dès l’école primaire. Mais le risque que les moralisateurs crient au loup est réel, alors il faut mieux ne pas faire trop de publicité autour de tout cela. » La révolution des mentalités avance sur la pointe des pieds.

Antony Drugeon et Hicham Houdaïfa, LE JOURNAL HEBDOMADAIRE, le 13 septembre 2008

In carrying on this tradition of treating after having to do something unpleasant, today on our way home from Reagan's TEDDY study appointment in Seattle and the resulting blood draw they did on her (they use numbing cream now!  That does not impress her though...), we stopped at "The Turkey House" and she got her treat:

We always bring Popper to Seattle with us for moral support, and the TEDDY Study staff knows him by name now too.  His tradition is stopping at "The Turkey House" anytime he's been down south.  While it is not the best place for food, it is in a good spot where you can get on & off I-5 easily, you never have to wait for a table and you always get extremely fast service. 

I wonder what Reagan will decide to carry on as her tradition...

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He is a mature 55-year-old and has reached the stage where he can love all mankind, having loved many individuals in the past. I am an ordinary 27-year-old girl and I, too, am filled with love for all mankind, but for all I know I shall always continue to be in search of my one man. And I wonder to what extent that is a handicap, a woman’s handicap. Whether it is an ancient tradition from which she must liberate herself, or whether it is so much part of her very essence that she would be doing violence to herself if she bestowed her love on all mankind instead of on a single man. (I can’t yet see how the two can be combined.) Perhaps that’s why there are so few famous women scientists and artists: a woman always looks for the one man on whom she can bestow all her wisdom, warmth, love and creative powers. She longs for a man, not for mankind.

It’s not at all simple, the role of women. Sometimes, when I pass a woman on the street, a beautiful, well-groomed, wholly feminine, albeit dull woman, I completely lose my poise. Then I feel that my intellect, my struggle, my suffering, are oppressive, ugly, unwomanly; then I, too, want to be beautiful and dull, a desirable plaything for a man. It’s typical that I always do end up wanting to be desired by a man, the ultimate confirmation of our worth and womanhood, but in fact it is only a primitive instinct. Feelings of friendship, respect and love for us as human beings, these are all very well, but don’t we ultimately want men to desire us as women? It is almost too difficult for me to write down all I feel; the subject is infinitely complex, but is altogether too important not to be discussed.

Perhaps the true, essential emancipation of women still has to come. We are not yet full human beings; we are the ‘weaker sex’. We are still tied down and enmeshed in centuries-old traditions. We still have to be born as human beings, that is the great task that lies before us.”

Etty Hillesum, August 4, 1941

Is the burden of loving someone better than loving no one? Is it possible for a woman to forgo the love of one man in favor of love of all mankind and still be personally and spiritually fulfilled?

After my first sour experience with romantic love, I thought I would never love or trust again. But then Patrick came along, and I thought I’d give love another shot. There was something about him that made me open up to him right from the start. He promised me that he’d never break my heart. But that’s not really a promise that someone can keep, is it?

I’ve always wondered if it’s possible to be together, contentedly, with another person for the rest of your life. Outside of movies and fairy tales, I’ve never really seen a real, healthy, happy, sustainable monogamous relationship. As much as I would like to believe that it’s possible to live “happily ever after” with someone, my personal experiences, including my own parents’ sham of a marriage, seem to indicate that life just doesn’t work out that way.

Is there really one person each of us is fated to be with? Or do we simply find someone we get on with well enough and decide to make our lives work together the best that we can? Should we sell out our passions for the sake of stability?

Patrick pursued other women behind my back. He deceived me for months, leading me to believe that he still loved me and that everything was fine with our relationship when he simply wanted to have someone around to fuck with the intention of dumping me once he had found someone better. I found this out in one of the worst ways possible, served with plenty of insults to my looks, personality and other things about me.

More than anything, I was angry. So angry, in fact, that one night I had night I had an extremely graphic dream in which I punched him in the nose twice. In my dream, I felt incredibly satisfied watching him stand there with blood dripping down his face, onto his clothes and the pavement. But when I woke up, I only felt sad and ashamed.

Unrequited love is a brutal, crushing thing. And it’s made even worse when you find that someone you are so fond of and respect so much is little more than a player and a jerk who never had the courage to be honest. In the aftermath of our breakup, I looked back on e-mails and text messages we had exchanged, trying to piece together where it all went wrong. Should have seen this coming?

For my birthday, he gave me a copy of The Giving Tree with “you’re the best gift I could ever get” written on the inside. He signed it, “Love, Patrick,” using the word so carelessly. When I visited him a few weeks after the breakup, he looked me in the eye and told me that he loved me. I wanted so badly to believe him and temporarily convinced myself that I did, but deep down I knew that he was just trying to manipulate me again.

As badly as Patrick conducted himself, not everything was his fault. There are two people in every relationship, and I wasn’t the easiest to deal with. From January to June of this year, I lost myself. I stopped praying and started crying myself to sleep instead (when I happened to be able to fall asleep.) I relapsed into my eating disorders again and found myself stuck in a cycle of depression. I had nervous breakdowns in my classes. Several times I fell so low, I even seriously thought about killing myself.

When I am depressed, I push and I pull. I pushed everyone else out of my life and clung to Patrick like he was the only thing I had in the world. I took my frustration out on him, passive-aggressively picking fights over the stupidest little things. I knew I was doing it, but couldn’t seem to break out of the cycle. I was incredibly difficult to be around, but I couldn’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I tried.

I needed to be wanted and wanted to be needed. I was riddled with self-doubt and indecision, about to graduate from a school I loved and venture into the unknown. Where would I live? Where would I work? My friends and family that I would normally rely on seemed so out of reach. My favorite grandfather was in ICU for 40 days, near death, and my best friends were dealing with serious problems of their own.

Everything seemed so uncertain and unstable. I was leaving the “safe” little world I had wrapped myself in. The lack of control I seemed to have over my own life scared me, though I pretended that everything was fine. In attempt to gain control over at least one aspect of my life, I accelerated the relationship faster than either of us wanted it to go, proposing things that we definitely were not ready for. (Moving in together? Seriously?!?)

I think Patrick and I could have had a good thing, under different circumstances. We got along extremely well. We could have been content. He was one of the very few guys I could see myself with long-term. But all of that is over now, I suppose.

In spite of all the hurt he has inflicted, something makes me want him in my life still, though he has made it clear that he no longer wants me to be a part of his. But then I ask myself: why would I want to be with someone who doesn’t love, respect or value me? Why would I want to be with someone who only pretends to care so that he may use me as he pleases? At some point, you have to give up on love and devotion and respect yourself.

I hate the person I become when I am in love: cripplingly dependent, possessive and jealous. Sometimes I find that I am an altogether different human being. When I am in a relationship with a man, I have a strong desire for him to be mine and mine alone, though I am hesitant to give up my own independence. I like to think myself so rational and reasonable, but find all that proven wrong.

Now that my more impassioned feelings about our breakup and relationship have subsided, I am left feeling emptied, reflecting on what a waste of time and energy it all was. Imagine what I could have done with everything I bestowed on him.  I have now vowed to devote my energy to mankind, not just one man. Let’s call it an experiment, shall we?

I long for a love that is simple and true, but I end up in romantic situations that are complex and abusive. The ups and downs of relationships are just not healthy for me, or anyone else for that matter. I know that I could love again, but I simply do not want to.  Though one must wonder if, underneath all my claims of devoting energy to mankind, I am just afraid of being hurt again.

Things in my life have improved dramatically. I love my job and friends and have a very active and interesting social life. With the help of the Lord and Lady, I have regained the faith that I had lost and have re-assembled my life quicker than expected. I still miss Patrick, but know that there were many men in my life before him, and there will be many after. The six in my repertoire satisfy me quite well for now.

I hope that someday, when I am older and wiser, I shall move beyond wanting to be desired by men. One day I will no longer long to be wanted, sexually or otherwise. It is then that I think I will discover whatever my true duty in life is. But until that day comes, simple detachment and a lack of commitment will have to suffice.

Formal clothing, which is by far less functional and comfortable
than more casual wear, is often recommended or required for
certain occasions.  It is not requisite because it changes a person
into a conformist drone, which giving in and wearing a suit, etc.,
often does, or for the purpose of emphasizing and augmenting
the awe of sacredness of an event, though this is likely what was
originally intended by such formalities.

The primary reason formal attire is expected is because it is expected.
Tradition is a self-fullfilling prophecy.

For dozens of centuries, dressing up has been enforced by the
familial, organizational, and governmental powers that be as a means
of social control.  Our garments separate humans from other so
called "lesser animals", and identify our individual levels of ambition,
pride, wealth, power, status, and insecurity (which is the need to be
accepted completely by society.)

Unlike other uniforms, like Gis, camouflage fatigues, police outfits,
and firefighting gear, suits, dresses, and tuxedos do not by any means
grant functionality in their respective situations.  Indeed, these restrict
movement, preventing the wearer from being totally at ease during
occasions of a social nature, exactly where one should be at ease,
as opposed to occupational environments and the like.

Considering the amount of skill, and monetary and material resources
necessary to construct a unit of formal garb, they are grossly
overpriced, unless bought used, wholesale, etc., in which cases,
although less expensive, formal wear is still not as wise purchase,
considering the limited number of venues where it can feasibly be worn.

Despite all of these facts, however, most people feel the need to
dress up and promote such actions in others.  They feel that when
they elaborately adorn themselves with face paint, hair sprays, chains,
ties (which I liken to leashes), hard shoes, and synthetic fibers, they
are "putting on their best" and showing their respect for themselves,
others, and the situation.  I feel that they are only observing dogmatic,
habitual roles in the name of tradition and denying their primitive origins.

In closing, I am adamantly opposed to mindless conformity, am not
bothered by looking "out of place", don't enjoy or plan to attend many
formal events, and would prefer to wear comfortable, functional,
versatile, and economical threads which express my individual tastes
and beliefs.  However, when necessary, in order to avoid harassment
and to make everyone else happy, I have been known to make the
minimal effort required to appear "presentable".