Tuck Magazine: The Children of Gaza and Israel: A War Crime

Read full article here: Casualties of War

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As we tip toe into a new year…

that is really the road of resolution and rebirth, lets not forget or disregard the lessons of the past for the apparently terminal condition of hate, fear and misunderstanding in this world.  The  implication for our future of continuing on this path is dire. We are now collectively standing on a precipice, poised to leap over the edge to our final destruction, or to step back and preserve the human race.  I’ve posted the video below with the desire you will hear the words of a special girl displaying  the wisdom and vision rare in one so young amid such suffering, spoken by a woman who also endured during that terrible time of hate, bigotry and genocide.  Think about not only the past year, but the  past one hundred and see how far socially we have NOT come  and know solidly within your heart and soul that this is still happening to the innocent.   There is a power shift taking place on this planet and many decisions will need to be made by individuals, us. We have a new decade in which to not only overcome the hate that erodes humanity’s promise, but to also remove and destroy the root of despair which comes along with the vitriol,  before it plunges ever deeper into our psyches, stealing our hope, love and diplomatic ability to compromise.   We worry more it would seem, about whales, seals and polar bears than we do about abused children in our own hometown or little babies left without parents or even their own limbs due to the insanity of the oil war.  Perhaps it is easier to care about a cute and cuddly looking animal than it is a lice infested and suffering baby with no food, parents or love.  Perhaps in 2010, each of us will find a way to use our art to reach into that dark place and shine a light.  Thanks for reading this and watching the video.  Much love and good vibes for all you wonderful scribes, as always.

The blog As A Legacy

Cancer, car accident, heart attack, murder, suicide, plane crash, anaphylactic shock, stroke, brain aneurysm, spontaneous human combustion etc…

The sad and irrefutable fact is that you and I are going to die one day. Mortality.  It is the one thought that plagues me lately with regard to my daughter.  What am I going to leave her that will accurately show her what sort of person I am from an entirely different perspective? What would be fitting to leave behind as an authentic account of my inner life that would be suitable  legacy? Certainly I possess other writing, but even with a body of work, there is a hollowness that needs to be filled.   I think I have discovered the solution to my quandary:  this blog.

Fourteen months ago I began scribbling here.  At the time, my intention was to say something.  To scream my tiny truth into the black hole of the collective unconscious.  During the creation of every page on this blog I’ve written seventy five poems which I’ve used to flog your literary sensibilities into mush.  There are also assorted diatribes, photographs with accompanying captions, a short story in parts that is still sending me guilt vibes for allowing it to hang there languishing in the land of the untied shoes and unlocked doors, and of course, my personal favourite, the filler youtube videos.  The result?  I’ve met some astounding people. YOU.  America, Argentina,  Australia, Brazil,  England, France, Germany,Ireland,  all represented in the comments section of this little idea I had Last October.

That my friends is one helluva  legacy.  It’s not just my momentary rants, egocentric and elementary verse or even my lame attempts to make you laugh at least once a week.  The true legacy I’m going to leave my daughter is the interaction between us, the artists.  Our critiquing, witticisms, and banter are priceless.  I’m going to print it out and keep it in a special book and when I’m old and grey I shall present it to her as a slice of history, mine, yours and the ever evolving history of our chosen field of creative expression.  In another twenty years, this mode of communication will cease to exist in this form and it will be something else.  Something faster and more sophisticated.   We will all change as well and many will go on to have success while some of us will fade into obscurity, satisfied with the simple act of writing.

Okay, that’s all.  Be good and send out the good vibes to at least one suffering struggling scribe who is ready to throw in towel for the eleventh time this week.  My gawd, we are all such a lot of divas aren’t we?  😉

Contemplative About The Words

For  some time  I’ve been thinking deeply about why I’m really writing.  This ridiculous habit of putting words to paper started as soon as I could grip a pencil.   If I were to stop telling the stories that walk the streets of my soul,  it would be tantamount to taking my five senses away.  Only another artist will understand that this statement isn’t melodramatic; in fact it’s probably not dramatic enough to describe the effect of removing the one gift that will propell you toward fulfilling your life purpose.  Life purpose, hmm… what a lovely segue into the reason for this post.  

Some people write to be famous, rich, or to prove something to themselves or someone else.   Money, I’d like some more, who wouldn’t.  Fame, uh, NO.  Not my bag at all.  As for proving something, I’ve never had anything to prove and I’m a bit of a square peg in a round hole type of gal anyway.   This leaves only one reason left to write.   To make a difference in this world so full of pain that it casts a shadow on even the biggest joys.  That’s  truly why I write.   Nothing has a greater impact than words.  This is why governments fear them and dictators control them.  Words are power and in the hands of the oppressed they are keys to all the locks.  

 For far too many years I toodled around with story after story, poem after poem, experimenting with different techniques and basically pissing it away. Originally I wanted to attend Ryerson and leave with my piece of paper, travel the world supporting myself doing freelance gigs.  I had it all planned and let me tell ya, it  had all the elements of a Hollywood epic.  Of course I was in love with Ernest hemingway at the time (okayI’m still in love with Ernest Hemingway) and his life and work affected me deeply.  What can I tell ya, I was young and arty.  Apparently my karma had other plans and I walked down another road.  Time went by and I continued to live my life by my instincts rather than my logic.  Not the way to live if you’re into calm serenity. There is a great line in the song  ‘Beautiful Day’  by U2:   “You’ve been all over and it’s been all over you” that pretty much sums up my 46 years here.  I could look back and say it all started waaaay back when my ancestors climbed into a boat and floated across the pond from Europe and never stopped moving.  In fact, I believe there is something in that because every member of my family has a damn difficult time staying put for long.  Some people call it wanderlust or just plain boredom, whatever it is, it’s been my destiny to amble  all over the damn place collecting people, feelings, experiences and yes, stories the way regular people collect postcards.  I can recall the faces of every human being who has ever crossed my path and although a few were not pleasant, they all gave me their stories and with a heart full of them I need to do what they wanted me to,  send them back into the world to prove they were here and that their lives mattered.  Between you and me and the gate post, some are in this book and in the other two to follow.   

Here’s the long term plan.  I write  these books, plant my feet firmly in print on demand, do some networking ( when you move a lot in your life you become an expert) and take my books to children, particularly poor children who can’t read and live in huts with dirt floors and empty bellies.  In many ways those children and I have lived through the same wretchedness and they and their liberty are my purpose.   One day, before I’m very much older, I’ll be placing  a book in some little hands in Darfur, Calcutta, Zambia and anywhere else they’ll have me.   It’s not the original dream/plan of freelance reporting and globetrotting,  but by taking a detour, I’ll get there in the end and my words will still be the reason.   

If you want to do something exceptionally wonderful, stupifyingly kind and  benevolently trendy, click the logo under the blog roll and send a few bucks if you’ve got it to spare.  Someone will love you completely for it, I promise.  🙂  A good friend of mine who worked for many years tirelessy for UNICEF was the inspiration for the main character’s rather quirky traits and if you really want to continue on with the stupifyingly kind stuff, go here:  www.unicef.org

  One more thing, be good to yourself.  The world needs you.  🙂