“We live in deeds not years In thoughts not breaths In feelings not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best.” [sic] Philip James Bailey
This quote came up in one of my emails as a suggestion for a meditation centering thought. I deleted it, because of the word “He,” having a knee jerk reaction to the exclusionary language. Yes, I know English usage mandates the use of masculine pronouns when mixed gender is addressed. And this was not publicly challenged in Mr. Bailey’s lifetime (1816 – 1902). But really, can’t we move forward yet?
Just as minority populations feel excluded when pictures/movies/television show only the dominant culture, I feel excluded when only male pronouns are used. In this particular case, I was good with the first few phrases, which use the inclusive “we.” Then I got to the troublesome “He,” and the following phrase stuck in my gullet and the whole thing went to the trash bin.
“He most lives who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best.” So, the thinking person lives most? The noblest feeling person lives most? The person who acts the best lives most? Thoughts of a privileged, white, male, me thinks. Not much shows up on the internet about Mr. Bailey, so I do not know if he was ever a parent. But every parent who ever loved a child lives by their heart throbs. From the first time a baby smiles at you, to their first injury, every time they tell you, “Mom (or Dad), I love you,” until you or they die, they are connected to your heart. Good parents act as the best parent they can. They are noble, as far as acting in the best interest of the family (in whatever shape it may be) to the best of their ability.
I guess it is the first part of the last phrase that most bothers me. “He most lives who thinks most.” Most parents I know don’t have time or brain cells left for thinking during the first few years of a child’s life. One moves by rote, routine, reflex in a fog of sleeplessness (and sometimes worry). And that’s if your child is healthy. G-d help those of us whose babies are ill or otherwise need additional care and resources.
And sorry, just thinking doesn’t make one a good person or noble citizen. One MUST act to be noble. Maybe this quotation was taken out of context and Mr. Bailey expanded on his idea in surrounding text. If the editor who chose this quote for the meditation exercise had included some background and noted the exclusionary language (even by just adding "sic" at the end) I might not have deleted the message immediately. “Ifs” and “maybes,” but something to keep in mind should you have the opportunity to address people in the future.
Be inclusive. Be on the cutting edge of language and mores. Remember women hold up half (actually, more than half) the sky.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Monday, August 10, 2015
I’m one of the lucky ones.
I’m one of the lucky ones. It’s been almost a year since I wrote my last blog on the subject of domestic violence. Unfortunately I now know even more about the subject.
I just ended a romantic relationship. Prior to ending it, I normally received a few texts a day, a phone call or two, never an email. We had dinner together most nights, and a couple of weekend vacations together. Permission or agreement was always requested before coming to each other’s home.
Post break-up, I began receiving 10, 20, even more texts a day. Six to ten phone calls a day. When I blocked the phone number(s), I began receiving multiple phone calls at work. When I didn’t answer my direct line, this person started calling the receptionist multiple times. I started receiving emails, both to my personal address and work address; even though I made it clear I did not want to receive personal emails at my work address. Then, this person also began physically showing up: in my (theoretically secure) home parking garage, at my office, my doctor’s office, my local knitting store, the place where I play trivia, even the Renaissance Faire (where parking costs $10 and admittance is $30) and my church.
I began parking a mile from home and calling my son to see if the coast was clear. Because of the calls and emails at work, my Corporate Security and Corporate HR departments got involved and I had to be escorted to my car in the evenings.
By this time, I’m a nervous wreck. My supervisor took work away from me, saying he didn’t think I could handle my regular workload, much less the additional responsibility I was requesting. I stayed at the office long into the evening, because it was the only place I felt safe. I’m one of the lucky ones – I have a place where I feel safe.
Getting the restraining order was an ordeal. I’m fairly bright, college educated, computer literate and persistent. I researched on-line for what was needed, found the forms, printed them out and called a few agencies to confirm what I needed to file for a domestic violence restraining order. Still, when I got to the courthouse with my completed and signed paperwork, I was sent from office to office, told to complete more forms, then back to the office-to-office routine. It took over 3 hours, even though I thought I was thoroughly prepared when I arrived. I was exhausted by the time I actually gave the local police a copy of the temporary restraining order.
I cannot imagine trying to get this done if I were a less-privileged person. If I had been beat up that morning and escaped my home with only my kids and the clothes on our back, how could I have done research? How would I have found the forms? What if I didn’t speak English or have a computer with internet connection or transportation? My local courthouse has “help-hours” for 2 hours twice a week. The downtown courthouse has help 3 hours twice a week. Do they think domestic violence only happens on those days?
I’m one of the lucky ones. I wasn’t afraid for my physical safety (too much). I have resources and friends available. I speak English. I am stubborn and well-educated. I was granted a one-year restraining order. My former lover has to attend a 52-week class regarding domestic violence and transfer ownership or store all owned firearms at an approved gun locker. I don’t know what will happen in a year. But at least now I’m not afraid to go home at night.
At least I have a home to go to. I don’t have to try and find a bed at a shelter for me and my children. I have a job still. I’m one of the lucky ones.
It’s time to end domestic violence, now and forever. Stop the silence, stop the violence. Before you find out if you are one of the lucky ones.
I just ended a romantic relationship. Prior to ending it, I normally received a few texts a day, a phone call or two, never an email. We had dinner together most nights, and a couple of weekend vacations together. Permission or agreement was always requested before coming to each other’s home.
Post break-up, I began receiving 10, 20, even more texts a day. Six to ten phone calls a day. When I blocked the phone number(s), I began receiving multiple phone calls at work. When I didn’t answer my direct line, this person started calling the receptionist multiple times. I started receiving emails, both to my personal address and work address; even though I made it clear I did not want to receive personal emails at my work address. Then, this person also began physically showing up: in my (theoretically secure) home parking garage, at my office, my doctor’s office, my local knitting store, the place where I play trivia, even the Renaissance Faire (where parking costs $10 and admittance is $30) and my church.
I began parking a mile from home and calling my son to see if the coast was clear. Because of the calls and emails at work, my Corporate Security and Corporate HR departments got involved and I had to be escorted to my car in the evenings.
By this time, I’m a nervous wreck. My supervisor took work away from me, saying he didn’t think I could handle my regular workload, much less the additional responsibility I was requesting. I stayed at the office long into the evening, because it was the only place I felt safe. I’m one of the lucky ones – I have a place where I feel safe.
Getting the restraining order was an ordeal. I’m fairly bright, college educated, computer literate and persistent. I researched on-line for what was needed, found the forms, printed them out and called a few agencies to confirm what I needed to file for a domestic violence restraining order. Still, when I got to the courthouse with my completed and signed paperwork, I was sent from office to office, told to complete more forms, then back to the office-to-office routine. It took over 3 hours, even though I thought I was thoroughly prepared when I arrived. I was exhausted by the time I actually gave the local police a copy of the temporary restraining order.
I cannot imagine trying to get this done if I were a less-privileged person. If I had been beat up that morning and escaped my home with only my kids and the clothes on our back, how could I have done research? How would I have found the forms? What if I didn’t speak English or have a computer with internet connection or transportation? My local courthouse has “help-hours” for 2 hours twice a week. The downtown courthouse has help 3 hours twice a week. Do they think domestic violence only happens on those days?
I’m one of the lucky ones. I wasn’t afraid for my physical safety (too much). I have resources and friends available. I speak English. I am stubborn and well-educated. I was granted a one-year restraining order. My former lover has to attend a 52-week class regarding domestic violence and transfer ownership or store all owned firearms at an approved gun locker. I don’t know what will happen in a year. But at least now I’m not afraid to go home at night.
At least I have a home to go to. I don’t have to try and find a bed at a shelter for me and my children. I have a job still. I’m one of the lucky ones.
It’s time to end domestic violence, now and forever. Stop the silence, stop the violence. Before you find out if you are one of the lucky ones.
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