it was the sound of the waves, shimmering to a crash then fade

falling from within

Comprehension of human suffering

Rwandan Convicted of Genocide

When I read stories like this, I have a hard time getting past the image of the "well dressed man in a suit." This particular "man in a suit" has been sentenced to life in prison for genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. Somehow I can't wrap my mind around the thought that this prison sentence will atone for his crimes. Atonement to me comes in part with a sense of remorse. I see this man in a his nice suit and I can't help but think there is no possible way he will ever feel remorse for the gruesome brutality and suffering he has caused. There are a lot of points to make and thoughts to consider - like how things came to be the way they are. The events that led this man, the Hutu people, to commit genocide. I wonder what prison will be like for him. I'm really asking because I have no idea where convicted killers on such a scale go. I always just sort of put things like this out of my mind. But I wonder what happens when a man in a nice suit is sentenced for such crimes.

Also I know this has been said before but why is it that it's so much harder to feel a great loss and sadness and develop an understanding of suffering in regards to mass genocide as compared to the brutal death of one person? What is that disconnect so many of us have? Is it possible that maybe it is a condition of the human mind. That there is something biological protecting us against the comprehension of such massive grief and suffering? Just as we seek heat for warmth when it turns cold, does our mind dismiss unpleasant realities as a way of continuing our survival? Would we be too dumbstruck by grief if we were able to fully comprehend suffering on a major scale? When I was a kid I loved reading about natural disasters. My favorite book was a book of the earth's greatest natural disasters to date (1980s?). I was obsessed with the eruption of Mount Vesuvius that turned Pompeii into ash, and the massive whirlpools that sunk ships. Earthquakes and floods were all terrifying and thus awe-inspiring. I think this was my "safe" way of realizing human suffering. Still it is more difficult to imagine suffering when it is actually caused by humans. I don't think we should dwell on pain but I do think everyone should have an understanding of human suffering to be aware of the grand scale of existence, of life and of our place in this universe.

*photo credits
Tony Karumba/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
Former Rwandan Army Col. Theoneste Bagosora, right, arrived with his co-defendant Col. Anatole Nsengiyumva at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda on Thursday in Arusha, Tanzania.

Where is Muntader al-Zaidi aka "Shoeless Joe?"

Brother Explains Shoe-Tossing Iraqi Journalist’s Anger

A lot of people think this is funny. I did at first I admit. Some people are probably angry or disgusted by the shoe throwing incident. But that is neither here nor there. What I'm really wondering is what has happened to the "man who threw the shoe"? A commenter at the end of the article calls him "Shoeless Joe" and says that he's a "true folk hero." Isn't that quaint? Everyone needs to wake up and realize that this isn't considered a silly prank by Iraqis and government officials. I know this article says the judge told his brother he may serve two years in jail but since then I read that it could be 7 if convicted and as of yesterday his family had not heard from him and he did not make an appearance in court. What will happen or is happening to this man - the "true folk hero" who *gasp* actually has a name, Muntader al-Zaidi?


*photo credits
In Sadr City, Maythem al-Zaidi stands before a photograph of his brother Muntader al-Zaidi, the Iraqi journalist who threw his shoes at President Bush. (Photo: Johan Spanner for The New York Times)

Winter weather

Since last spring I've dreaded the coming winter. Maybe I secretly hoped that my dread and anxiety would somehow psychically postpone the inevitable. I suppose that's called wishful thinking, and that usually never works out quite like one hopes. Winter is here now and I've made a little peace with the cold, snow and early evenings. I've been thinking of this season as if it were an adventure rather than weather patterns caused by the tilt of the earth's axis. Everything is a challenge; from backing out of the driveway, to walking on sidewalks and finding my warm gloves. Of course it isn't climbing Everest or walking on the moon but the adventure is found in these small challenges. Everyday is an exercise in preparedness for the next big snowfall or ice storm. I think I thrive on the challenge. The more difficult it is to get to work in the morning, the more I want to get to work even though everyone else has taken a snow day and stayed home. Still, in the middle of the constant planning and problem solving I have to remember that I can't control the inevitable and while it's good to be prepared, it's also good (and safer) sometimes to just sit quietly and watch the world fall silent under the falling snow.

Field

There is a field in the south of France that appears to be endless and untouched. The usual demarcations of land ownership are absent. There are no signs of toiling hands, no crops to plow, no roots of trees pierce the ground. There is only a seamless expanse of gold spilling over the land. It is said that to stand in the field is to find yourself in an ocean, waves of wind swell and surge through the tall grass soundlessly. From above the field appears haphazardly placed, as if a fraction of the sun dripped to earth. Birds and clouds rarely pass overhead. Most everyone avoids the field. Roads are planned in consideration. All care is taken to bypass the field at a measurable distance inconvenient to transportation. While the surrounding land must fall under some ownership there is no rush to lay claim, because of this the field's beginning and end is not easily traced. This inexplicable reverence has transpired through too many generations to fully understand. There are a few floating stories secreted away that speak of whispered pacts between human, animal and god. But no one really knows why or how the field remains as it does, seemingly endless and untouched.