The Kolog

Sometimes, my iPod is a self-proclaimed genius, other times it’s damned near prophetic.  At least I choose to think so as the songs on my playlist allow me to make more-or-less sense of the day’s occurrences…

I fear many of my friends will disregard the revolutionary events occurring in Egypt over the past six days, just as too many people close to me downplayed the significance of 9/11 shortly after two hijacked planes flew into the World Trade Center.  No matter, really: after all, my comments will no less be lost among the abyss of online chatter concerning the rebellion, and rightfully so.  Having said that, perhaps there is someone among my nebulous list of Facebook friends who will read this and tune-in.

Granted, I know little of U.S. foreign policy nor do I care to challenge wholeheartedly those who have made a career of such matters; however, I do know something about the light of liberty that lit my forefathers’ revolt and secured my freedoms, which have granted me the right to comment on what I please.

Of course, many of my fellow citizens are scared about the tenuous situation in the middle east, but I fear, they succumb to the political rhetoric that has held us suspended in a perpetual state of terror for too long.  If this is a twenty-first century revolution, as some have coined it, than we must not respond with twentieth century assumptions.  As our current administration understands, based on the public comments made over the weekend, no one outside of Egypt knows what will happen in the upcoming days.  Therefore, we have only principles upon which to stand; and maybe it’s just my opinion, but I choose to cling to the ideals of democracy when thinking about such matters.

We have feared for too long, and if these defensive reactions had actually led to more promising prospects of peace and prosperity in my lifetime, perhaps I would support the  continuation of such  irrational appeals, but they have failed in so many ways.

Again, I would never presume to predict how the situation in Africa will conclude; but as for the events that have already transpired, I cannot help but applaud the civil disobedience spawning what seems to be a revolution in one of the greatest cradles of civilization.

When considered within a self-centered context, the current events in Egypt must give all Americans, particularly those following or aware of the Tea Party, considerable pause.  For we are witnessing an actual revolution, the likes of which too many too recently too often have called for in the past year or two in America.  Seriously, is this the objective of those who feel threatened by our current administration?  Does anyone in the United States of America really believe that such extreme measures must be taken in order to seek change in our society?  While I am no man of religion, I pray not.

Whether the revolution will be televised (on cable network news or via the Internet), the turmoil in Egypt and the global response leads me back to the impetus of this post…

While walking my dog tonight after listening to countless news reports concerning the events in Egypt, I listened to a variety of tunes on my iPod.  Admittedly safe within the comfortable confines of Charlottesville, Virginia, I responsibly deposited the bag of my pooch’s poop and then proceeded to listen to two tracks by Bob Dylan.  The first, “Chimes of Freedom,” made me think of the sentiment as it must be felt viscerally  on the streets of Cairo and other urban centers in Egypt tonight as the people prepare for what they are hoping will be a march of millions.  The second, “Ballad of a Thin Man,” made me think of the rest of us witnesses around the world:

You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard
But you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says
“It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?”
And somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God
Am I here all alone?”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel
To be such a freak?”
And you say, “Impossible”
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read
It’s well known

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, “Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word “NOW”
And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “How?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”
And he screams back, “You’re a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin’ around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

(Copyright © 1965 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1993 by Special Rider Music)

The tragedy in Tucson this weekend is unspeakable, which may explain why we have so much trouble discussing it.  Let me state from the outset of this post, I do not claim to have any greater ability to talk about what happened on Saturday and what it signifies–perhaps that is why I have refrained from writing about it until now.  With that: forgive me for trying.

Obviously, the man who attacked Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, and others who were participating in a civic rally outside of a Safeway in Northwest Tucson, is mentally unstable.  Anyone who would commit such an atrocity would be deemed so after the fact, but I fear the Monday-morning-psychoanalysts who have flooded the airwaves during the past forty-eight hours too often use the man’s mental instability to minimize, however unwittingly, the possibilities of such heinous acts. Quite frankly, how many times must someone go on a shooting rampage outside a shopping center; on the grounds of a U.S. military base; inside the hallowed  halls of the Holocaust Museum, a university or high school campus; along I-95 and all-over the the D.C. metropolitan area, before we recognize the fact that these acts of violence are terrifyingly too frequent?

Whether the attacks are politically motivated or random acts of psychologically disturbed individuals, they are no less abhorrent acts of extreme violence, which is what I would like us to address more directly, particularly as the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday approaches.  As the great Civil Rights leader knew all too well, we live in a violent world, and to some extent, it always will be; but that is no excuse to abandon his devout campaign of non-violence.

Not until I heard Dr. Deepak Chopra, on cable news networks Monday afternoon, appeal for calls of peace in response to the latest act of violence, did I feel validated in my own response to the assassination attempt.  Dr. Chopra seemed to channel the likes of Dr. King, Mahatma Gandhi and Jesus Christ when he spoke the words that are the title of my post here.

Always remember: it begins with me.

I know some, if not many, of you will dismiss these words as belonging to someone living in a fantasy land, and indeed, I shall stand so accused until each and every one of us believes in the dream.

Dr. Chopra concluded his appearance Monday afternoon by reminding us of the power of words.  What holds true for violent actions holds equally true for incendiary rhetoric.  As many political figures and pundits have pointed out over the past forty-eight hours, we must distinguish the patriotic supporter of second-amendment rights from the desperate politician who talks about the second-amendment as a remedy for political opposition.

Words, spoken or written, are actions.  As N. Scott Momaday reminds us:

“Words are intrinsically powerful.  They are magical.  By means of words can one bring about physical change in the universe.  By means of words can one quiet the raging weather, bring forth the harvest, ward off evil, rid the body of sickness and pain, subdue an enemy, capture the heart of a lover, live in the proper way, and venture beyond death.  Indeed, there is nothing more powerful.  When one ventures to speak, when he utters a prayer or tells a story, he is dealing with forces that are supernatural and irresistible.  He assumes great risks and responsibilities.  He is clear and deliberate in his mind and in his speech; he will be taken at his word.  Even so, he knows that he stands the chance of speaking indirectly or inappropriately, or of being mistaken by his hearers, or of not being heard at all.  To be careless in the presence of words, on the inside of language, is to violate a fundamental morality” (The Man Made of Words).

Fortunately, if incendiary rhetoric–the likes of which we’ve heard more of over the past decade or so–can cultivate a climate in which an individual feels justified in carrying out horrendous acts of terrorism, than logically the opposite must be true: words can cultivate a community of peace.

If we say so.