The Fourth Week of Underemployment Begins

Three weeks ago, I awakened to my first Monday of underemployment.  The world has changed radically since then, or maybe it hasn't.  It is hard to know.  Let me collect a few snapshots here.

--I am still adjusting to the idea that my schedule has a lot more flexibility than it once did.  I continue to think about the balance of writing, walking, and other practices that make up the best morning.  I am also aware that it may change in 2 weeks when we go back to Daylight Savings Time.

--Similarly, I am thinking about more travel than I once would have, back when I had to consider how much vacation time I had accrued.  One of my church friends asked me if I had considered going to the God Spa retreat.  I am now considering it.

--My replacement arrives today at my former campus, just a month before the accreditors come for a big visit.  When I took the job that brought me to my former campus, we had just a month to get various accreditation documents ready, but that was a much easier task than getting a campus ready for a visit.  I wish her luck; she will need it, but she might not realize that she needs it.  She's coming from a University of Phoenix campus, so she won't have had experience with the accreditors that will be coming at the end of March.

--This is also the week where lots of people on the academic side will be moving into and out of offices at my old campus--or at least, that was the plan when I left.  I don't miss that aspect of campus life.

--Over the week-end, I signed a publishing contract for one of my essays to appear in a book of essays about assembling poetry manuscripts.  It has been so long since the initial acceptance that I assumed that the project had fallen apart.  What a pleasant surprise to realize that it has not.

--Whenever I get this kind of news, I wonder if I should be doing more to attend to my poetry career, such as it is.  But then I look at various submission guidelines and feel that jolt of shock at submission fees.  I saw one journal this week-end, one that was fairly new, charging $5.00 to submit.  Nope--not doing that unless you're a journal where an acceptance might actually further a poetry career.

--And even then, part of me has to laugh at the idea of a poetry career.  I don't think anyone is making a living off of their poetry book sales.  Even poet laureates have teaching jobs.

--And yes, I do understand the precarious economics of literary magazines.  I do not feel called to underwrite those economics with my poetry submissions, but I am not criticizing those that decide to play that particular lottery/game.

--I came across this article in The New York Times yesterday, an essay that looks at these developments in Ukraine through the lens of 80's popular culture.  It calls the coverage the worst kind of nostalgia programming:  "There was the buildup of tensions over a supposed “military exercise,” the scenario that opened “The Day After” in 1983. There were the columns of tanks, an image out of the invasion of Czechoslovakia, Soviet newsreels and the 1984 movie “Red Dawn.” There were the maps of Europe, with arrows diagraming pincer attacks and fire-red explosion graphics."

--That article ends this way:  

"You could see this as evidence that we were still living in the same world that we lived in last week. You could assure yourself that this did not fit the apocalypse-film script, that this was not, in the end, 'The Day After.'

You might also remember, though, that that is exactly the sort of thing someone always says in the first 15 minutes of the disaster movie."

--Here's hoping that we can back away from this brink in the way that a pop culture movie script would not.

Prophetic Street Theatre

I began yesterday feeling a bit of despair knowing that I had to write a short discussion post on Ezekiel and feeling like I had absolutely nothing to say about that prophet.  The assignment also included this bit:   "Where do you find prophetic street theater today?"  I knew what I wanted to say about that part, but Ezekiel?  Happily, once I looked at the passages from the prophet and looked back over my class notes, I was able to formulate an approach.

I was buoyed by getting my grade for my Jeremiah project, which required us to imagine ourselves as a talk show host like Ellen or Oprah and how we would interview Jeremiah.  This discussion post required a video, not a piece of writing.  I created a very short video, posted it, and spent time worrying that I had done it all wrong.  I imagined my professor saying, "Well, as a piece of creative writing, this is great, but as a response to this assignment, she's out of her depth.

Happily, my professor did not feel that way.  Here's the response that I got, along with the score of 100/100:  

"This is good, creative work, Kristin. Your video demonstrates understanding of the nature of prophets and prophecy. It also considers the larger social context of Jeremiah where you reflect on how "the geopolitical business" is a blunt instrument.

Good use of Brueggemann about grieving coming before resurrecting."

I spent some time yesterday trying to figure out how to export the video out of Blackboard (Wesley's Learning Management System) so that I could share it or keep it.  Alas, so far, I haven't figured out how to do that.  I was able to download a transcript, so at least there's that.

In the middle of the day, my spouse's brother and his wife came over for lunch.  Our grown niece (daughter of spouse's sister) came over too, and we had a delightful time.  When they came in January, we made a burrito/fajita buffet, and that worked so well that we just did a repeat.  It's a great way to feed people with a variety of food needs and preferences.  And it leaves us delicious leftovers!

When we went out on the parking deck to watch the sun set (and for me to sing silently "Dona Nobis Pachem"), I heard lots of horns honking, sustained honking, which I thought was odd.  When I went out onto our balcony a bit later, I continued to hear honking, so I went back to the parking deck, which has a better view.  I heard some chanting.  Was there some kind of demonstration in the Arts Park?

My spouse and I decided to go see.  Lo and behold, there was quite a gathering:

There was a presentation from the stage, mostly in Ukrainian.  

There were people draped in Ukrainian flags and wearing sky blue and yellow:

I saw a wide variety of signs.  I did wonder if they were all saying the same things.  The "Choose Peace" and "No war" signs--what did they suggest that Ukraine do?  Or was it about the U.S. not sending troops?  I did not engage in this kind of conversation.

I was most enchanted by the art project.  People brought sidewalk chalk for the children and the children got right to work decorating the pavement.

 

As I watched the festivities/protest, my mind went back to the discussion post I wrote earlier.  I thought about writing an additional post to talk about the street theatre that I was seeing, but I decided against that path.

Still, I thought of my professor's question as I walked back through the empty Arts Park this morning.  I went out for my walk and felt a few sprinkles, and I knew the chalk marks wouldn't last for long.  I walked through the pleas for peace, the flowers and the flags, the vow to stand with Ukraine.  As I prayed (for peace, for wisdom, for courage), I thought of the promises of some of the ancient prophets, like this one, in Isaiah 61: 4:

"They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations."

The Urge to Knit Socks on the Second Day

On Friday night, I wrote this Facebook post which I then shortened into a tweet:  "I have this strange urge to knit socks for the war effort. I realize that there is no such war effort yet, and that there are factory produced socks that will be much better for any war effort yet to come than anything that I can knit. But still, the urge to knit is strong--and I prefer to crochet, so I find it even stranger that I have a yearning to knit."

Various friends responded to remind me of the other things I might knit/crochet for other populations that need care, or other ways, like planting seeds, I could show defiant hope in the face of geopolitical madness.  Indeed, we did contribute to a fundraising campaign of a teenager that we know at church who is raising funds for further schooling.  Later this week-end, I will give money to Lutheran World Relief, as I always do, when there's a crisis.

But giving money seems like such a small thing to do, even as I know that money to assist refugees will be important.  I realize that no one needs the lumpy socks I would create, but it would keep my hands busy.  I am not going to fly to Europe to make my way east to fight.  I am a middle-aged woman with arthritic feet and limited ability with weapons.  I am not going to be the freedom fighter/spy who defeats Vladimir Putin; I do not have that level of skill or beauty.

Of course, it's not going to be a "normal" war, whatever that means.  It will not be won with socks or victory gardens or spies who pass secrets--maybe.  In an opinion piece in The New York Times, Thomas L. Friedman says, "This is the first war that will be covered on TikTok by super-empowered individuals armed only with smartphones, so acts of brutality will be documented and broadcast worldwide without any editors or filters. On the first day of the war, we saw invading Russian tank units unexpectedly being exposed by Google maps, because Google wanted to alert drivers that the Russian armor was causing traffic jams."

Last night we went to the top floor of the parking garage to watch the sun set.  My spouse brought his violin, and I brought our copy of With One Voice, which has the music to "Dona Nobis Pacem."  I thought of people playing their instruments in the  rubble of past cities torn apart by war (Sarajevo?  Did it really happen or was it a scene from a movie?).  I watched people leaving their offices and other people arriving for Friday night festivities.  My spouse played his violin, I prayed, and the sun set on the second day of this war-like situation.  

On the First Day of a Land War in Europe

Let me capture some vignettes from the first day of a full scale invasion of a sovereign nation in Europe; Russia invaded Ukraine in a hot war kind of way yesterday.  Years from now, we may look back on these hours/days/weeks as the last or the first of some sort of new world order/ruins of old world order.  

--Periodically throughout the day yesterday, I looked at the brilliant blue sky with its beautiful cloud sculptures.  I thought of ICBMs and wondered where Russia has them pointed these days.  I can still sing all the words to Sting's "Russians," or at least the refrain.  Does Putin have children?  Can you imagine having Putin as your dad?

--My friend sent me this message:  "I wish I could come over and we could have tea and bake things and not be in wwIII"; I responded, "I can arrange tea and baking but there may only be 1 man who can help with the decision not to go towards WWIII--and I don't think Putin shares our love of tea and baking."  I spent the rest of the day thinking about tea and scones with Putin and remembering a different song composed by Sting, "Tea in the Sahara."  

--My friend and I also shared an interesting exchange about women in previous world wars, plucky women in war rooms, and what would that look like today?

--I thought about electromagnetic pulses and all the ways our data can be destroyed.  I asked my spouse if we should take a screen shot of our bank balance page, print it out, and save it.  My spouse told me about the special nuclear weapon that Russia has that will do something to the stratosphere and wipe out humanity immediately.  I said, "So I'm hearing you say we don't need to bother printing proof of our bank balance?"

--My spouse wrote his thesis for his MA in Philosophy on the morality of the ambiguous bluff in a world of nuclear weapons.  It may have been the last academic writing to refer to the Soviet Union, which was coming apart in those days, but no one could have imagined this world we currently inhabit.

--I had an appointment with my spiritual director yesterday, who lives in Cutler Bay, which is about 45 miles from my house.  What if Putin did something spectacularly stupid?  I decided to make the trip; if Putin is going to do something so spectacularly stupid that I am stranded and have to walk home, it probably won't be on the first day of the invasion of Ukraine.

--It was a fruitful appointment.  I'm glad I went.  I'm glad I made it home.

--I listened to a bit of Biden's press conference.  I thought about all the Russian investment in the South Florida area.  So far, no analysts have thought about what sanctions might mean for the real estate market, at least no analysts that I've read/heard.  If the bottom falls out of the real estate market, I predicted it here first.

--My spouse cooked while I was away.  He took a can of coconut milk, reduced it, and made a spectacular sauce for our rainbow trout that I got in the freezer case of Trader Joes.  I bought the fish months ago, when an actual invasion of Ukraine seemed like a very remote possibility. 

--My sister called to try to figure out which nuclear war movie from the 80's she was remembering.  I am inordinately proud of the fact that I was able to tell her.

--It is strange to discover that normal life continues in the face of a land war in Europe:  dishes must be washed, and I had class to attend last night.  Before I settled in front of my computer, we went to the parking deck, to the top floor that is open to the sky.  From our perch seven stories above the city streets, we watched the sun set.  We sang "Dona Nobis Pacem."

--I will continue to sing that prayer for peace, today and every day.

Scholarship

It looks like the invasion of Ukraine is underway.  In some ways, I'm not surprised.  Putin is not a subtle man, and he's been pretty clear about his intent.  In some ways, I'm shaking my head and saying, "Wait.  We're not done with the global pandemic part of the apocalyptic narrative.  Now we're moving to a land war in Europe?  In Europe????"

In the face of this bad news, it seems a bit frivolous to write about a piece of good news that I got yesterday:  I got a scholarship to help with my seminary studies!  But I will have plenty of time to write about Ukraine.  I don't know that I'll get a scholarship on a regular basis, so let me take a moment and preserve this piece of good news.

It's a scholarship for seminary students offered by WELCA (Women of the ELCA, the largest, most liberal branch of Lutherans in the U.S.).  In the days to come, the group will let me know how much they will be giving me, once they know how much money they have to distribute.  

It's not a scholarship based on need, and it's not really based on merit, although one must have a certain amount of merit to be in a seminary program.  I see it as affirmation, and I'm grateful for it.

I almost didn't apply.  I had written myself notes, and still, the Dec. 15 deadline snuck up on me.  And then, the PDF wouldn't let me fill in the various fields.  I answered one question, and all the question boxes auto-filled with the answer.

So I filled in the application in a more old-fashioned way.  I didn't write by hand, although I was tempted.  I filled out one box, printed the form, filled out another field, printed, and so on.  And then I literally cut and pasted the answers onto a new form.

I wasn't sure I was really eligible.  I'm affiliated with a Lutheran seminary, but I'm taking classes at a Methodist seminary.  My church had a WELCA group that came to a screeching halt with the start of the pandemic, and we haven't really gotten it restarted.  Indeed, we're still pivoting back to remote worship on a regular basis.  But I decided to answer the questions honestly in my application and let the people in charge decide if I was eligible.

Yesterday I got the news that I was eligible and that I was one of three applicants to get a scholarship.  Hurrah!  And then I settled back into seminary studies.

World Orders and Ancient Prophets

Almost an hour ago, I wrote this tweet:  "Thinking about geopolitical conflicts of my youth, watching young versions of old rock stars in 'Sun City' video, thinking about Reagan and constructive engagement, looking at a map of Ukraine/E. Europe, feeling doomed, writing blog posts into the void/madness."

But I have yet to actually write a blog post.  I have toggled between opinion/analysis pieces and old videos:  "Sun City," "Silver and Gold," and "No Easy Walk to Freedom," with a side trip to "El Salvador," a Peter, Paul, and Mary gem that I had forgotten.  I have resisted the temptation to revisit old videos, like The Day After, although the last line of Timothy Snyder's piece in The Atlantic made me want to do just that (his lines:  "The creativity and historical awareness of the Biden administration has made war costlier for Russia. Of course, there might be another level to consider: that the mobilization (or even an invasion) is meant to divert our attention from something else.").

I have heard the drumbeats of war, and I've heard every analyst declare that we will not send U.S. youths to die for Ukraine.  I've heard these similar sentiments my whole life.  What that really means is that we'll be careful not to show the images of caskets on TV.

I read this article in The New York Times which includes a very useful map of Eastern Europe and Russia, and I've thought, we're doomed.  In the days before George H. W. Bush's excursion to protect Kuwait, I went out to put gas in my car.  In these days of underemployment, I don't drive much, so I don't really need gas.  As I've been on my morning and afternoon walks, I've listened to accents, and I'm realizing how much more I'm hearing accents from Eastern Europe than from Latin America.  My pattern-making mind wants to see the larger picture.

I want to believe that saner minds will prevail, but I look at Putin and I see the bad boyfriends and abusive husbands that are the worst kind of afflictions for female safety.  He looks out and sees a world of enemies.  Here's another gem from Timothy Snyder's piece:  "However that may be, the habit of provocation might be making it harder for Putin to read the outside world. Just because you live in a house of mirrors does not mean that you can find the exit."

I think about the nuclear weapons, and I know that if we have nuclear exchanges of any size, these past two years of pandemic will look like a time of bliss.  But I also know that there have been many other times when my fearful brain has thought about the possibility of apocalypse, and the world walked back from that brink.

May we be at a similar time, backing away from this precipice.  

Now I will go for my walk as if the world isn't hanging by a slender thread.  I will do my seminary homework due today analyzing Paul's letter to the Galatians.  I will then turn to my project that asks us to consider the ancient Hebrew prophets and the role of the prophet today.  That project could go in so many ways.  I will let the drumbeats of war remind me to pray throughout today.

Ponderings on Presidents Day

Some assorting ponderings on Presidents Day--will they hold together as a post?  Yes.  As an extended essay?  Probably not, hence the format.

--While I like having less traffic on a Monday morning walk, I feel this odd resentment.  As an underemployed person, if everyone has a work day off, one of the benefits of underemployment seems to disappear.  Happily it will return tomorrow.

--Does this Ukraine tension underscore the need for strong presidential leadership or show the futility of wishing for it?

--Anne Applebaum's essay headline in The Atlantic sums up Ukraine nicely (accurately?):  "There Are No Chamberlains in this Story:  But there are no Churchills, either. And Ukraine will fight alone."  The bleakness of this headline makes me feel a piercing sorrow.  You can read the whole essay here.

--Why would any gathering of foreign leaders happen in Munich ever again?  The symbolism and the optics seem impossibly bad.  Of course, that might change, depending on if this week-end's meeting accomplishes something we can't see right now.

--The older I get, the more I realize that people in leadership positions are by and large, just regular folks, thrust into leadership position.  Maybe they have special skills.  Maybe they will rise to the occasion.  Maybe not.

--I understand why we want a president who will save us.  But viewed one way, there have been very few political leaders who were able to pull that off. 

--It's more likely that history will be made by groups of ordinary people, people not in charge on a national level, people making change on a regular basis.

--And we'll only remember if we have people who are writing it all down and/or recording those efforts in some way.