Category: Burningbird

To the person who came to my weblog based on the following Google Search:

single childless women in their 40’s do any feel postive about their situation

Yes.

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I was driving north on 101 when I noticed that the approach to Golden Gate Bridge was blanketed by heavy fog. Now, driving across GG is an exercise in precision in good weather; I wasn’t interested in trying it out in the fog.

I pulled into Crissy field to watch the fog and listen to the fog horns, hoping it would blow over so I could continue.

As I waited, I thought back to the news I read this morning. There was another suicide bomb in Israel, with six people dead. There was a fire in an Arab American church in Los Altos and an attack against a Jewish man in Sacramento. These last two events weren’t thousands of miles away — these were in my backyard.

Sad, bad, mad times.

What makes all of this so much more difficult is there is no clear picture about what can done in the Middle East. To say with surety that this path or that will lead us — us — out of these times is naive at best.

Sharon and others say that we can end this conflict by routing the terrorists out of the West Bank, but how? Instead of eliminating terrorism, won’t we find that the same hand that wields the sword of retribution is also the same hand that sows more seeds of terror?

Terrorism is a renewable resource.

What is the right way out of the killing in the Middle East? The racial and religious bigotry throughout the world? I don’t know anymore. I am lost in uncertainty.

With these thoughts in my mind, I look up and see that the fog still lingers at the Bridge, but decide to hell with it — if I wait for clear days I’ll never cross Golden Gate. As I start to cross, I am met with a totally unexpected view: the fog has somehow formed a tunnel over and around the Bridge, but the road itself is clear.

I have no definitive answers to the situation we’re facing throughout the world. All I can do is continue fighting racism and bigotry in my weblog and in my life. I can join peace vigils and hold hands. I can write against the Israeli incursions into Palestinian territory and write against suicide bombs and against terrorism in any form. I can stay informed, and get involved when the opportunity arises. This is the clear path I see.

And there is one other thing I can do — I can show more respect for those I don’t agree with. For all we know, I may be wrong. And if you don’t agree with me, that’s okay, too. For all we know, I may be right.

And it starts with something this small and personal…

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

According to Dictionary.com, triangulation is:

The location of an unknown point, as in navigation, by the formation of a triangle having the unknown point and two known points as the vertices.

When I studied history in college I had a college professor tell me that the only way to discover the truth behind an event is to read three completely different interpretations of the same event. Somewhere in the middle of all these interpretations, you’ll find the truth.

Unfortunately, it’s all too easy to only listen to one viewpoint, one interpretation; listening to those who are like minded and speak with one voice is less disruptive than seeking the truth.

For the first time since I can remember, I had the most horrible nightmare last night. The kind that you have to fight to wake from, and when you do your heart is beating so hard you think you’ll wake the neighbors.

I dreamed that I was in a car somewhere out in the country and it was dark and there was someone after me. I remember in the dream that I couldn’t see through the windshield very well, especially when the person after me smashed a bar down on the glass, creating a spiderweb of cracks. I remember in the dream continuously turning the key in the ignition and though I didn’t hear the sound of the engine turning over, the car moved. However, the car was moving so slowly, it was like going through molasses. And as I was moving, I knew this person (whose face I never could see) was catching up to me. He was behind me. He was near my left rear tire. He was near my door, running, reaching out for the handle…

I actually had to struggle to wake up. And when I did I lay in bed in the dark and listened to the sound of cars on the freeway and the fan in my room and my heart beating and blew a kiss to the night air in thanks that the damn thing was only a dream.

So — what does it mean, all you dream analysis people? Other than I should cut back on my consumption of ruby red grapefruit (one of my favorite foods).