Case Notes GWU Women's Studies: When I Am A Grownup I Will Do Something

Case Study: George Washington University Women’s Studies Business Program
Title: When I Am a Grownup I Will Do Something
B. Kaufmann Founding Case Author


When I Am a Grownup I Will Do Something

“She shuddered and pulled the comforter up to her chin where it felt like a little barrier from harm. An illusion, of course, but comforting. Even in winter the drapes stayed open and the lights off. How she loved the night sky. And she found the darkness friendly. The harsh reality of the daylight didn’t lend itself well to dreaming. It seemed important to dream, to wonder at the world, at nature, to gaze at the stars and remember that someone, another child perhaps somewhere in the world, was at this very moment also imagining the future. Was he too, imagining a world of peace? Was she also dreaming of a place where all the humans get along?

Raising Voices

Voices Education Project is on a simple mission: to lift up humanity and make the world a better place. They do that via the arts, humanities and social sciences using education, by teaching empathy, with communication that nurtures understandings for positive change between and among peoples of the world. Voices aims to transform how we manage conflict on this planet. They shine a light where more light is needed. And they do it with culture and elegance.

A New Violence and WMD (Weapon of Mass Destruction)

An Introduction to the Arsenal:
Yes, I have met the enemy and I can assure you he is us. I wrote about it in the book Looking Back: History through the eyes of those who lived it. I have seen weapons of mass destruction stockpiled for human doom. I have walked through a secret location with a military escort in a place in Siberia where a decommissioning facility was being built, a place that I could never find again and had better not. I have sat in the corner of a restaurant in Russia with an American Commander holding a laptop connected to God-knows-where while he sorted through its data to find some things that had recently been declassified so he could show me; there were some things he couldn't show me. The large shells that held chemical weapons were about my size; the smaller ones that would turn the Super Bowl into a morgue, were about the size of wine bottles. I have stood in assemblies holding two wine bottles and wearing a gas mask in order to make a point.

But now I have identified another kind of violence and even more scary weapon of mass destruction. It was revealed while doing some new research. My advice: be afraid; be very afraid for this weapon is a heat seeking predator. Why is it so dangerous? Because it is 'friendly fire'; it's constructed so as to do the most damage in short bursts; it isn't aimed at an enemy but at one of our own. It's a stealth weapon that can come out of nowhere and take away your life. Yes it could happen to you in your fifteen minutes of fame and your six degrees of separation. What is it?

Michael Jackson: Thank You for the Mirror- more thoughts about Michael and "This Is It"

Goodnight Michael.
Once again I stand guilty of not appreciating someone enough until they are gone never to return. And so it is with Michael. I call him by his first name now because I know him personally—but only so after his passing and only after seeing his movie “This is It.”

I finally understand Michael the man, both the human being and the creative genius, and I see the incredibly wide love for people and the planet… that came from this singular figure.

One listen to the lyrics of his songs will tell what the man was made of…

“Heal the World/ Make it a better place/ For you and for me/ and the entire human race/.There are people dying If you care enough for the living/Make a little space Make a better place.”

“When they say why, why? Tell ‘em that it’s human nature.
Why, why do you do me this way?”

“I'm starting with the man in the mirror

I'm asking him to change his ways

And no message could have been any clearer

If you wanna make the world a better place

Take a look at yourself and then make a change.”

I sat in the parking lot and cried for most of an hour after leaving the movie. I didn't know why. The tears were not voluntary. In the theatre I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want the magic to leak away. I didn’t want him to be gone.

I felt the finality of that curtain call and realized...

Art in the Service of Hope and Humanity

Chapbook of Poetry "We're All in This Together(c)"
Original artwork and copy by Barbara

Painting: "Vision of the Madonna"
Acrylic on board

Featured on Posters, book covers

This painting that is almost 5 feet X 5 feet hangs at the Christine Center
a sanctuary and spiritual retreat center in Northern Wisconsin.


"Gaia" the sculpture

Limited Edition
Gaia Sculpture
Cast from Ceramic Mold
Designed with sacred geometry and spiritual symbolism
(The pyramid shape denotes the spiritual alchemy of resurrection and ascension, the apex of this pyramid intesects the core of the earth, the four corners of the sculpture signify the four corners of the world the four major races holding up the world.)
The "Gaia" scupture made its inagural appearance at the Plenary Session of the Soviet-American Citizen's Summmit in Moscow in the nineteen eighties. Since then it has become an award for those who would, by their work on the planet, make the world a better place. It has graced the mantels of some of the most enlightened visionaries on Earth.


Pet Planet (TM)












Pet Planet (TM)
Remember the Pet Rock?
Here's a "pet" that is the biggest rock there is... "Pet Planet"

(Comes with "Care & Feeding Instructions")



PET PLANET CARE AND FEEDING INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Keep your planet's oceans, waters, lakes, rivers and streams teeming with healthy life and free from toxins, wastes, and pollution.
2. Do not explode nuclear, hydrogen or other destructive devices in your planet's fragile atmosphere. These devices threaten both biological life and the life of your planet.
3. Do not discharge any products into your planet's thin layer of atmosphere that might harm its protective layers including the ozone.
4. Do not spread toxic products on your planet's land, in its atmosphere or under its surface.
5. Make sure all of your planet's artificially produced energy and power sources are clean, secure and safe.
6. Respect the natural world of your planet and use the generosity of nature wisely. If you use the natural re­sources on your planet to enhance human life, do so in a respectful non­violent way and arrange for its replen­ishment.
7. Treat the human forms on your planet as though they are your own brothers and sisters with the same mother and father. In reality, they all came from the same source. The birthplace of human life is the cosmos; your planet was the terrestrial womb.
8. Do not allow conflict to come be­tween the members of your planet's global village or make war against any species--human or otherwise.
9. Treat all forms of life on your planet as if they are sacred species—possibly the products of a divine creation.
10. Do not concern yourself about how the various sub-groups of the human species on your planet explain the great mysteries of existence. They may recognize a supernatural, divine or creative intelligence, or a creator in their mysteries. They may call this creative intelligence or creator by different names and worship or prac­tice devotion to whatever they believe in different ways. This is as it should be and makes your planet a place of wonderfully interesting diversity and creativity.
11. Allow all species on your planet to live out their lives in the manner of their natural order. The human species is the only one which has evolved to a level of consciousness that allows for self-determination and will. This means that individuals, groups, or societies of these humans will live in ways that they themselves, determine. Understand that this is the natural order of their evolution and allow them to live as they choose so long as there Is no harm created.
12. Learn to respect and love all the mineral, vegetable, animal and human existence on your planet. And love your planet itself as if she were the mother and nurturer of all life. She is.


Artwork from:
"Harmony" annual Peace Concert
Lawrence Chapel, Appleton, WI

Did You Get the Invitation?

The only way I can explain my obsession is to take you to the scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind where Richard Dreyfuss is eating dinner with his family and he begins to sculpt Devil’s Tower in his mashed potatoes.

His family watches his antics, mouths agape as they begin to think he has just slipped over the edge of sanity.

The central theme in the movie is that everyone receives a message and it’s the same message but for each person, the form the message comes in is different.

The message is actually an invitation. The movie is about an invitation that the characters receive through their intuition. It’s an invitation from an unknown intelligence in the cosmos to be at a site near Devil’s Tower, Wyoming on a certain date and after dark. The movie’s characters don’t know each other, they don’t understand their own obsession with the image of the well-known landscape feature, and they certainly don’t understand what the message means. All they know is they are magnetically drawn to a place and share a compulsion to be there… at Devil’s Tower, one night in time, and at the same time.

My obsession, fixation and artistic compulsion with an image began in 1972 and it too, came right out of the cosmos—actually, from NASA. It was one of those moments that many people tend to remember vividly by recalling where they were in the first instant they witnessed something significant. It’s a memory trigger like… “Do you remember where you were when… “the planes hit the towers? ... “Kennedy was shot?” …”the Challenger exploded?” In a moment like that, in a brief second the breath involuntarily and violently sucks itself in, the belly tightens, and perhaps the eyes even began to water. The initial strike of awe from that first encounter may have since waned, but I argue that it was one of the most significant moments in modern history and a turning point for humanity. I also argue that this intuitive message was received by everyone on Earth the moment they first saw it. And it is still transmitting its invitation to this day.

NOT ON MY WATCH

Did you ever ask yourself...

Can one person change the world?

Can one person save the world?
The answer may surprise you...

ON MY WATCH
-The story of Stanislav Petrov

If you are a human, and if you are living on Planet Earth, then you owe your life to someone you don’t even know. Yes, someone you have never met saved your life. If fact, he saved all our lives. Actually, he saved our whole planet and all life as we know it.

The answer is yes, one person can change the world. One person can save the world. In fact, one person you have never heard of did save the world. No, he is not able to leap tall buildings in a single bound; he doesn’t wear a mask or a cape and he has never appeared in a comic book or a film. Yet he is a superhero.


If you are not older than thirty, you won’t even know or remember the reason why the world had to be saved. If you are younger than 25, you will have to ask your parents or grandparents about what the world was like from the 1940s to the 1990s during the cold war. The term ”cold war” may seems a little innocuous and perhaps odd today, but for those who lived through it, the term conjures a feeling of dread, a chill or sensation in their solar plexus. Anyone who grew up during that time lived with a sense of dread and fear and anxiety. The cold war describes a time of tension, conflict, competition between two dominant world philosophies—Communism and Capitalism. It was a time of espionage, propaganda, posturing, weapons of mass destruction arms buildup, nuclear arsenals and a cloud of suspicion, distrust and imminent doom.


The world was divided and aligned with the superpowers—The United States and the Soviet Union. Each side wanted to export their philosophy and way of life—communism or democracy. Conflicts over these two ways of being in the world led to the Berlin Blockade and the Berlin wall, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Soviet War in Afghanistan and multiple decades of holding humanity hostage in a perpetual state of fear and a resignation to the inevitability of World War III—and the end of civilization.


The world came close to annihilation a few times in the five decades that the cold war lasted. The Cuban Missile Crisis during President Kennedy’s Administration, was one such well known time when the world was on the brink of war. But there is another time that very few people know about. There was a critical moment when the actions of one man saved the world from nuclear war. On September 26, 1983, Lieutenant Colonel Stanislav Petrov was on duty in a bunker near Moscow when the early detection system alarm sounded indicating incoming missiles. Petrov’s job was to alert his supervisors to any impending nuclear attack on the Soviet Union.

The protocols at that time were to immediately launch a counterattack to implement mutually assured destruction of both countries. The incident could not have come at a worse time. The Soviet Union had just weeks earlier shot down Korean Airlines Flight 007 killing all 269 passengers on board, simply for flying into Soviet airspace. A U.S. Congressman had been aboard that flight. NATO was gearing up for able Archer 83, a military doomsday exercise interpreted as a first strike scenario by the Soviet KGB and military and Andropov, the Soviet Premier had an exaggerated distrust of America, convinced the U.S. would launch a pre-emptive strike against the Soviet Union. His mind, and the Soviet mindset at that time was perpetually braced for it—on hair trigger alert.

Petrov delayed his reporting because the system indicated only one incoming missile. He mentally dismissed it as a systems error. But then the system then read 4 more incoming missiles. The Soviet protocol was to launch upon threat not necessarily with confirmation of a strike. Petrov reasoned that America, if launching a first strike scenario, would launch an all out strike from multiple bases, not 5 missiles from a single site. Again he delayed reporting. The Soviet radar could not detect something beyond the horizon and the delay would mean if it were a real strike, the Soviet response time would be limited. He waited for ground radar confirmation which never came. As it turns out, the detection was of an unusual alignment of sunlight on high altitude clouds and the elliptical orbits of the detection satellites.


Petrov was both praised and demonized by his superiors. Subsequently dismissed from his post, he took early retirement after suffering a “nervous breakdown.” He lives now in Russia as a common pensioner. A modern hero, Petrov saved the world as that moment in history on his watch was probably the closest the world ever came to nuclear war and potential annihilation. A film about his life and this incredible story, The Red Button  was released in 2012 and was nominated by the Jury of the Uranium Film Festival in Rio de Janeiro for the Yellow Oscar award to best feature film of the festival. 

______________________________________________________________________

Film:

The Red Button tells the dramatic story of Stanislaw Petrov, the Russian officer who, in 1983, saved the world from atomic war. On September 26th, 1983, Stanislaw Petrov was in charge of monitoring American missiles that could potentially be sent to Russia to start a nuclear war. Shortly after midnight, Petrov noticed a missile on his screen. Several minutes later, things became much more serious: four more missiles appeared and a red warning sign “Missile Attack” began to flash. The future of the world was in the 44-year-old Russian officer’s hands as he wrestled with the decision of whether or not to use Russia’s atomic button. Fortunately for all of us, Petrov made the correct decision. Although Petrov had effectively saved the world from atomic war, he was reprimanded for not filling out the logbooks on that day, and a year later he was given an option to retire. Today, Petrov lives in a small town near Moscow in relative anonymity, surviving only on a tiny pension of $200 a month.

 

Film Producer:

Slawomir Grünberg directed and produced over forty television documentaries focusing on critical social, political, and environmental issues. From Chechnya to Chernobyl received a Golden Cine Award. Shtetl, the epic film that Slawomir photographed and served as second unit producer was awarded the Silver Baton for Excellence in Radio/TV Journalism by Dupont- Columbia University, and the Grand Prix at the Cinema du Reel Film Festival. The most recent of Grünberg’s films are dealing with LGTB&Q community in Poland: Trans-Action and Coming Out Polish Style. Several others films are on the Holocaust theme: The Peretzniks, In the Name of Their Mothers: The Story of Irena Sendler by Mary Skinner, Paint What You Remember, The Legacy of Jedwabne and Saved by Deportation. Portraits of Emotion, a film about autism, received an Expression Award at Brazil’s Disability Film Festival and Grand Prix at the Belgrade International Film Festival. His director of photography credits include, among others, Legacy, which received an Academy Award Nomination for the best documentary feature and Sister Rose’s Passion, which received an Academy Award Nomination for the best documentary short. Slawomir has also been a contributing director of photography and editor for the PBS series: Frontline, AIDS Quarterly, American Masters, NOVA, Health Quarterly, Inside Gorbachev's USSR with Hedrick Smith and People's Century as well as Lifetime and HBO.

Discussion Questions:
Can one person change the world? Can one person save the world? Can the world be saved by employing a reasonable and rational state of mind? Can the human race be saved from its own destructive devices? Is there such a thing as the right person being in the right place at the right time? Is there a man for the season? A woman for the season? Does a person have a calling? A life mission? A destiny? Could you save the world by your actions? Do you have a mission? A destiny? What do you think? Given your logical conclusions, what are you doing to contribute? Or as the poet Mary Oliver asks, "what will you do with your one wild and precious life?" Or: What can you do on your watch?

I Cry Because I Want my Face to Shine- A letter to President Obama

Mr. President,

I watched you at the Democratic National Convention and I watched you in Chicago's Grant Park after the election. I called my daughter in Denver (a block from the convention) and she wanted to know... "Mother, why are you crying?"

When I Am a Grownup I Will Do Something

Barbara's decades of work as a peace advocate is featured in author Kay Kennedy's new anthology-- a compilation of stories about events in history as seen through the eyes of those who lived it.

The START II Treaty (cooperative threat reduction) targeted a site near our sister city for the building of a decommissioning plant to render weaponry harmless. When a previous site in Russia had attempted to build such a facility, Russian citizens who didn’t understand the plan and were afraid of the project successfully protested and closed down the plant. (It was great to see fledgling democracy at work, but the efforts in the case of stalling a bilateral mutual weapons elimination plan were misguided due to lack of information, education and misunderstandings.)

By the time START II came along, our sister city organization already had a decade of cooperative Russian-American relationship building experience. Mutually cooperative partnerships already existed between our municipal organizations—police and firefighters, mayor and city leaders. We already had healthcare, educational, social and business bridges with frequent personnel exchanges in the oblast (section) where the plant was scheduled to be built. USAID funded our project for $250,000.

As Executive Secretary with the Sister Cities program, Barbara wrote the grant and became the grant administrator for funding the foundational social infrastructure for a cooperative effort between cities that supported building a chemical weapons decommissioning plant in her sister city region in Russia. USAID funded the project as an adjunct to the Cooperative Threat Reduction START II Treaty between the United States and Russia. Her story appears in Kay Kennedy's new anthology Looking Back.

You may read the entire story here...

WHEN I AM A GROWNUP I WILL DO SOMETHING

“What will it feel like to be vaporized? Will it hurt? Will I know right away that I am dead? My family will be dead too. Will we all go to heaven together? What about Jody, my dog? Will she come too?” The never-ending cycle of uninvited thoughts and the heart pounding fear was a nightly ritual. I tried to shift my focus to the coolness of summer sheets and pulled the comforter up to my chin. Even in summer I insisted on a blanket or comforter. Maybe in my young mind, the extra cover or extra weight would somehow protect me. An illusion can save you sometimes, even when you’re dealing with insanity.

A Confession Letter to Friends.. I Am an Addict

Hi my friend,

This is a difficult letter to write but I have decided to come clean.

After a great deal of anguish and soul searching, I have accepted that the only way to overcome this problem is to admit to myself and others that the problem exists..


I think I have an addiction and I am asking for your help.... It's like a monkey on your back alright-- that stalking compulsion that demands that you get the next fix, and soon. I'll admit it, I am addicted. But I can't help myself, really I can't. I've tried to kick the habit but haven't had any luck. I quit smoking several years ago. They say smoking cessation is the hardest; don't you believe it. That was a snap compared to this urge, this gotta-have-it-now compulsion. It grabs you hard and doesn't let go. Oh and I'll have to admit I do get satisfaction from even just the licking; I mean, how can you resist? I am hopelessly hooked. I've been known to call friends all hours of the day and night if I need to feel that huge whole-body rush, the tingle, the delirious stupor from having even just one because I don't have one right now.

Death At The Window

I heard the dull sickening thud,
swallowed hard that last sip
as “Oh no!” involuntarily hissed
through the opening in my lips.
I rose slowly from the bed,
slow motion to the window
to see if injury was waiting.

But I couldn’t see from there
so I stepped outside
surveyed the stones and bushes
and almost missed you…
a speckle of feathers,
a trickle of blood,
but still warm
now in my gloved hands.

I willed the Reiki
through your body,
said a prayer
and held you for awhile
cursing death
as if that could hold it back
or stem the tide
of life force leaking.

Retrieved the Rescue Remedy
and the stethoscope
holding it to your breast
only to hear nothing
but the moan
that leaked from me.

As if I needed another reminder
that death can come knocking
at the window
silent and uninvited
arrive between sips,
turn instantly bitter the taste,
the cup so innocent--
a simple hope of morning coffee.

I Heard Grandma in the Tea

I wonder where that teapot is
the wedding gift
god awful olive green
circa 1970
like my marriage
also circa seventies
eventually lost its steam.

In the back of my mind
that green whistle shrill
mimicking grandma’s pot
and bringing back
a capsule in time
her two room flat
train whistle in the dark
the tick of the clock
the new pendulum grandpa made
when that timekeeper lost its tock.

The sound of sirens
from down in the street
the squeak of the springs
climbing up on the bed
nestled in the corner
of the living room
and the plaintive wail
of the barely weaned puppy
she brought in from the cold
and kept.

The scratch of the squirrel
with claws on the glass
looking for nuts
through the window
she fed them from.
The sound of a waif
who finds sanctuary
and wishes life were easy as that
while sobs find their way
from a chest that hurts
and is too small
and too young
to contain them.

The squeal of the hinges on the oven door
as she takes out the pie to cool.
The ice box door clicking shut
as she pours cold milk for me
and sips her tea
while telling of the apple picking
rhubarb and sugar
and sensory stories
sweet and robust
much like the liquid
and to a sensitive child
drinking very much like love.

First Place in Curtis Brown Literary Short Story Contest Awarded to Barbara

First place in the Curtis Brown Literary Short Story Contest was awarded to Barbara last week for her story about Maddie, a handicapped little girl with a neuromuscular disease who is dependent on a ventilator to breathe. Contest entries were to address the subject of "Invention" or "Inventiveness." Barbara's entry was about the Tickle Monster who assists with Maddie's exercises, massage and rib mobilization. An offer to publish is being considered with Maddie's mom having the last word.

ARE YOU A MESSENGER ?

Are you one of the ones we have been waiting for? When we save humanity, save the world, and create peace on the planet, I am convinced the method will be surprisingly unconventional. Would you agree that the methods for destroying it are surprisingly unconventional? Terrorism? Chemical weapons? Nukes? Suicide bombers? Global Climate change? And do these things sound like the products of rational minds, rational actions?


The twentieth century fostered a collective consciousness born of fear and limitation. The perpetual threat and cold war caused us to ask not “how can we create a lasting global peace?” but rather: “how can we extend our survival, and for how long?” Feel the difference?

When I Am a Grownup I Will Do Something- Excerpt from short story from "Looking Back"

Looking Back, an Anthology by Kay Kennedy that features stories from the 1940s forward, is a unique view of history-- through the lens of the contributors who lived those stories and who watched history unfold. Some knew they were watching history being made and some only learned it in retrospect and upon reflection.

My contribution was a short story......... When I Am a Grownup I Will Do Something-- a recounting of my work as an Executive Officer with Sister Cities building Russian-American medical, educational and social exchanges, that chronicles my trip to Siberia to build social infrastructure for a local decommissioning facility for weapons of mass destruction as the writer and administrator of a grant from USAID (United States Agency for International Development.)

Two of my poems also appear in Looking Back......... The Wall: Viet Nam War Memorial; Missle Silo in North Dakota

Here is one...

MISSLE SILO IN NORTH DAKOTA

Lonely, cold, deserted,
empty road goes nowhere
through empty fields
some farmer’s land
leased for doom,
the nearest house
ten miles away.

We stop the car
near frosty wheat fields
golden in summer,
Dakota glory—
barren now
like this feeling
in my belly.

Eerie silence
surrounds a chain-link fence,
narrow access lane
parts frozen earth,
leads to cold gray steel
fifty yards from sanity.

I wrap my courage round me,
pull tight my coat
as if I could keep out this cold
or the fear.
Tell my friend to wait,
must do this alone.

Take a step toward ominous,
this inconceivable object
from inconceivable minds.
There is nothing human here,
only icy wind that shrieks
monuments to failure.

Chain-link security,
barbed wire madness,
locks a dome-like structure,
cold-steel-nightmare under ground,
one of countless others
poised to kill half a planet—
people without faces,
humans without names.

I try to rein an insane mind
that begins to wander
toward the unthinkable.
Imagination not in check
replays archival footage,
rears a metal monster
from this darkened hole
that must end close to hell.

An unfamiliar feeling
shakes my body violent
not from cold
or Dakota winters.
My hand reaches toward the sky
as if one hand could stop it
pull it back to earth
or muffle the rising scream.

For a copy of the book see... http://boomersrememberhistory.blogspot.com/

TELLULAH- A dog saved by a hand from heaven

I was starting to panic. Flipping on the flashers, I got out of the van. Not satisfied with honking at her, traffic began to honk at me. One couple smiled sweetly as they passed through the danger zone. Perhaps they thought this was funny. I was not amused

I had spent the last few minutes trying to herd this strangely behaving German Shepherd out of the center of the highway. She wouldn’t move off the road, trotting toward me instead, oblivious to the dangers. She was in pretty bad shape—ribs protruding, bony prominences on her hips jutting up out of her pelvic girdle. I could have spanned her hind quarters with my hands, the thumbs touching, she was so thin.
 

Feline Testemonial for Humanity

He was standing over the saw finishing a cut and didn’t immediately notice me walking toward him. His hermitage, built twenty years or so ago, is in the midst of a remodeling, getting a second story. I stood still for a few moments admiring his handiwork while watching him in motion. It’s a labor of love and it shows in his movement, in his work—focused, intense, flowing.


The sweat beads up on his brow but he doesn’t look uncomfortable. The sun, speckling the forest floor, lights a glistening strand of moist graying hair that falls in tight ringlets framing his face. He senses someone’s presence and turns to face the direction of the intrusion. His face explodes into a smile as he notices me standing there. And the bluest eyes I have ever seen sparkle in recognition. “How are you?” I ask, “How’s the project going?”

“Hey neighbor,” he grins, “I’m great and even better now that you’re here.” One gets the feeling every visitor is greeted in this way. It’s part of his nature. “What brings you here on this glorious day; are you staying at the center?”

Dog Fighting, Violence and Vick

Outrage won’t cover it; depravity won’t describe it. What possible joy or thrill can be derived from watching dogs chew on, bite and attack each other with the intent to kill? What kind of parent takes his youngster along to witness the “sport” of dog fighting? And why would someone who makes millions as a star quarterback with a National Football League team care about a $20,000 purse for his winning dog? Obviously it’s not for the money, then why is he involved in dog fighting? There can only be one reason—to satiate a sadistic appetite for blood sport and gore satisfied by watching animals socialized to tear each other apart and kill within an enclosed space from which there is no escape.

"Looking Back" Anthology just released by the publisher.

A Kay Kennedy fan, I was honored when she chose some of my work to include in her new anthology "Looking Back- 1940-2005 History as seen through the eyes of those who lived it."

The book has just been released! You can read an excerpt and order the book at http://www.booklocker.com/books/3056.html

I've read Looking Back and this book is rich with experiences lived by and chronicled in prose and poetry in Kay's new book.

When I was in high school and college the American history classes were stale and boring and involved a memorization and regurgitation of dates that coincided with events that had no life! I never quite understood how the professors could be excited about history! As chalk flew everywhere and teachers eyes shone and bodies became animated while recounting events of the past, I wondered "what was I missing?" Why didn't my imagination catch fire like theirs did; why did I feel I had to drag myself to class daily to listen to someone drone on and on about events that had no humanity, no connection, no magic?

World history managed to pique my interest with its fascinating cultural traditions, beliefs and diversity. How the world had unfolded, how humanity had developed, now that was exciting! I especially resonated with anything about ancient Egypt; I still do. In college and in seminary, world history and events were viewed through the eyes of human philosophy and myth. Now that made history come alive.

If only Kay's kind of book had been available back in high school... To re-live events through the eyes of someone actually living them in real time lends a rich mixture of energy, philosophy and myth-- it brings history alive. Wish someone had tried that methodology before.

I caught the excitement in what Kay was proposing and I submitted a few things having lived through some history that changed the world and the future and introduced the concept of peace as not just a way to feel, but a way to live upon the planet.

And the Animals Shall Teach Us

THE ANIMALS SHALL TEACH US

Publication: "Nature's Pathways" Magazine © 2007

A new way to live in the world is being birthed and a new awareness is dawning in the collective psyche and on the planet. Humans are becoming weary of the way things are and long for spirituality and wholeness in their lives evidenced by the trends toward naturalness, alternative healing and community. Penelope Smith calls it “God is on the move.” Penelope Smith is the author and “guru” of animal communication with 30 years experience in human-animal-nature bonding. There is definitely a link between animals, nature, wholeness and spirituality. Mahatma Gandhi once said “the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be measured by the way its animals are treated.”

Animals certainly stir passionate feelings in humans. That’s good news. The bad news is that not all of that passion is merciful. Think for a moment about all the ways that animals impact human life—as companions, experimental subjects for laboratory tests, farming, hunting, safaris, mass production of commodities, as food for human consumption, as pets, as service animals, as breeders and livestock, entertainment and movies. Now think about your personal relationship to animals. What we are learning as animal communicators in a “new” and popular field, is that animals too, have feelings. They feel, can be passionate, have opinions, love and sometimes exist to teach their human companions.

I Have Met the Soul In Passing

I HAVE MET THE SOUL IN PASSING

© Barbara Kaufmann 2007

I am in awe of the human body. It more than fascinates me. I can’t fathom the intelligence required for a biological mechanism to work in perfect synchronicity with multiple thousands, even millions of microscopic, cellular, hormonal, electrical, chemical, organic, and systemic decisions. How does a single organism make selections and movements in its best interest and on its life enhancing behalf continuously with dynamic accuracy and precision for twenty four hours per day 365 days per year over the average life span of about 77 years or more?

My fascination led me to study the brain and mind, to delve into psychology and to a practice in neurological, neuro-rehab, addiction and eventually psych nursing. I found the mind and psyche as fascinating if not more fascinating than studying the body.

Award Winning Short Story: Trading Faith With A Tibetan Monk

Togden (left)

First Place Award Adult Division "Everybody's Different" Unity in Diversity Short Story Contest 2000-2001 sponsored by the Epilepsy Foundation

TRADING FAITH WITH A TIBETAN MONK

“Not so very cold here,” he said, still in shirt sleeve’s and appearing very comfortable in mid-October. It had been raining all day and I was bundled knees to neck.

“Yes,” I answered, “not like the Himalayas.” I thought about Mount Everest because it was my only reference for ‘the Himalayas’, about the climbers they had found after the disastrous 1996 expedition. Everest was so cold that the rescuers couldn’t even bury the corpses. The most they could hope for was that the later snows would respectfully cover their bodies. I suspected that even in Wisconsin winters, I could never know cold the way he knew cold—Himalayan cold.

Becoming a Writer was like...My God I'm Somebody's Mother!

They were sparkling souls-- those who encouraged, chided, leaned on, threatened and goaded me over the years. Wonderful mentors, professors and teachers showed up when the student was ready. They used whatever method worked at the time. But mostly they said one word: “Write!”

Thus the one word smith (One Wordsmith) born of the frustration (Write!) of “elders.”

I remember when my Art Teacher said to me, “You must practice saying ‘I am an artist’ until you believe it fully yourself.” (gulp) One day I just no longer choked out the words; they came out quite nicely. That was the day I sold my first painting.

I loved poetry, read a library of poets and began to write it. For the first few years, my musings sounded stiff and like a child’s hand had written them. Once again I tried the method that had worked for me. “I am a poet.” (double gulp) The first time I was published in an anthology, they called me to ask if I would read my work at a reception for the authors. Oh Nooooooooooo! Poetry was a performance art? Who knew! How to go from closet artist to public speaker? And a little voice said: “How much do you love poetry?” Geez.

And to this day, when something is published I feel like I did that day in the hospital when they handed me this squalling, pink, fragile little body wrapped in a blanket and I thought “Oh my GOD I’m somebody’s mother!”

Matters Are Soul Deep Now

MATTERS ARE SOUL DEEP NOW

Publication: Healthy Thoughts (Summer 2007 Issue 42-7)

What does it mean to have “soul?” It’s hard to describe, isn’t it? But we do know it, don’t we? To have a meeting of the minds is significant toward cooperation and to have heart to heart communication is even better but what happens when we make a soul connection. Feel the difference? You can feel the difference when something is on a soul level. Mind to mind occurs on an intellectual level, heart to heart is with feeling and perhaps love, but a soul connection registers in your body. It happens on a very deep level.

If you check in with your body, it has a binary system, a kind of “field.” Your body does not know how to lie and it recognizes truth. It has an intelligence far beyond the mind or heart. This binary system will tell you “yes” or “no,” “off” or “on,” “good” or “bad” if something is soulful or not, and so on. It is a deeper knowing. You can feel into or simply know in order to discern whether something has soul or not. If I ask you which of something has more soul could you discern that? Ok, let’s play. Choose which has more soul…

Memorial Day Doesn't Tell a War- for Somebody Who Once Wore It.

This poem was composed in 1992 at Highground*. It first appeared in Highground Newsletter and the Marshfield Herald. It was re-printed in the chapbook "We're ALL In This Together" and now reappears at One Wordsmith.

“Highground" is the name of a war memorial built on a hill outside Neillsville, Wisconsin. It is a typical bronze casting of soldiers in war but at the back of the monument is a rifle turned upside down (a symbol for peace and “war no more”) and a large set of chimes that ring through valley below with a stirring sound when the wind blows.

Highground is said to be a place of great healing for veterans and those who have been touched by war. You can visit * Highground virtually at http://www.thehighground.org/

MEMORIAL DAY DOESN'T TELL A WAR

~for Somebody Who Once Wore It

I cry today the Memorial.
Highground*,
An empty wind
stirs chimes and hills,
echoes the flood plain
to Southeast Asia.

I smell a country,
taste a soldier’s fear
feel burning straw,
hear a twig,
a mother’s heart,
and a story break
on the six o’clock news.

Sculptured bronze
metal bodies
freeze time
and history
for a nation too easily
forgot the words
“never again.”

A national flag
snaps to attention,
salutes a lonely wind,
and unforgotten war,
a hypnotized people,
an uneasy belief
that a Persian Gulf
and fresh new war
can heal another.

It stings like yesterday
twenty-five years later.
A generation of peace
still missing in action,
the human race
still prisoners of war.

Flowers die,
war memories fade
for those who don’t touch it
but the green patch of cloth
placed on the ground
in the center of a Memorial Day wreath
speaks an authentic story,
tells a war.
A somebody once wore it.

Poem.... A Poet Tries to Write 9/11

A POET TRIES TO WRITE 9/11

© Barbara Kaufmann, September 2001

I think I know
how the spider feels
when she spins a web
from the juice
of her own body.

Today, Nine Eleven,
there is no juice
only weary hollow bones,
thirsty tissues, a heart
that’s cracked and dry,
the only moisture
a mind that weeps.

When the heart of humanity splinters,
silence screams a land,
and a triage hunts for hope
anywhere alive,
the tightest dressing
is not enough
to stem the bleeding.

When a numbing mind
must caress the carnage
but dares not wander
too far into the gaping despair
for the fear of no return,
it searches for meaning,
gropes to understand
or even just find words...
people looks to poets.

There are some days
the flailing, the wailing
has no voice
nor can the poem.
Some days
the paper stares dumbstruck
and words won’t spill
or peaceably assemble.

In order to write it
the poet must inhale
allow her body
to span the essence
like Egytpian mother Nut,
absorb it to her core
hold it long and deep
like her breath.

Only then exhale the strands
weave them onto paper,
give dimension,
form the matrix,
birth its life and being.
For that she needs moisture.

Go in search of a spider,
watch her spin.
Listen for the wailing in the web,
see her body shudder,
know the sacrifice she makes
to spin such gossamer thread
attach it to the invisible
and hang by it suspended.

Hello and Welcome to...

One Wordsmith

Where you will find

• A writer
• A Poet
• An Artist

in residence.

Writers write not because they want to but because to not write is, well, it's simply unimaginable.

"Spilling one's soul onto paper is either a very foolish or very courageous act; but then I've always loved the fool!" ~ B. Kaufmann