Ma'at was the Egyptian Goddess of Truth, Justice and Order. Her headdress ostrich feather served as the ultimate arbiter of the goodness of a man's life, and was balanced against a newly deceased person's heart on the scales of justice as a precondition of being permitted to pass into the Afterlife. Those whose hearts were heavy with wicked deeds had their souls devoured immediately by the demigod Ammin. Only those whose were lighter than Ma'at's feather were permitted to pass through into immortality with the Gods.
Poll
Is Tomorrow "The Day" (And Ya'll Know What I Mean)
On Thursday morning, California time, my youngest daughter and I are boarding a plane. We are leaving what are supposed to be the highly sunny, highly warm shores of California (warm for one of the few times ever this year - I know that global warming folks always focus on extreme weather events and overall heating trends but they have ignored that it has been blooding FREEZING in California this year and I am convinced it is related!). We are coming to Washington, D.C. A place where I have lots of relatives and friends, even as I won't have time to see them since we'll be there for just over 45 hours.
We - my baby that is ½ foot taller than I and likes to lay her elbow on my head as a way of trying to equalize our status -- are coming to march.
On the appointed day, 10.2.10 (which I hope is not rainy or too cold, but I'll be there either way), my baby and I will be marching along with I'm not sure how many others. Who knows? To hear the media tell it, there isn't anything special going on in Washington on 10.2.10.
In a recent article published by Reuters, the green building movement has been steadily increasing. However, home owners feeling the financial crunch have been un-decided about going green because of fiscal reasons:
"The green movement is growing in the real estate world, but not without some growing pains caused by the credit crunch and the recession. The nation has a good opportunity to excel in this, said Vincent Cozzolino, of The Solar Energy Consortium, because it has the chance to build a new industry without repeating the mistakes of earlier players in Germany and China, for example."
Call me angry, call me sad, call me depressed. Call me all those things, upon waking up Sunday and hearing what I already knew when I went to bed on Saturday: that the Health Care Reform bill cleared the House on the narrowest of votes - but only because abortion access was sharply limited as part of the bill. For that, call me not at all surprised about Stupak-Pitts not only being introduced, but passing by a higher margin than the ultimate health care reform bill itself.
Why wasn't I surprised?
I wasn't surprised because Stupak-Pitts is merely an extension of that age-old American value, "fuck the poor." An extension to those very folks who threw poor women, largely of color, under the bus 32 years ago (with benign neglect each year the appropriations bill comes up ever since) by not fighting tooth and nail to defeat the Hyde Amendment.
In another karmic twist, today's Inspiration from Edward Brooke -- who cautioned us all as Black folks that you do what you have to do -- is a good entry point into the purpose of this short diary reminder.
I eagerly went to Black Commentator this morning to read the post-summer hiatus issue as I have each year only to read the following:
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Yesterday morning, after a bleary-eyed drive up to the City of Berkeley, CA following a night with Lewis Black at San Francisco's Davies Symphony Hall (in which he advocated for the election of Santa Claus rather than yet another same-old same-old politician labeled Democrat or Republican, or, at a minimum, forcing whoever won to wear the red suit as a unifying force for the country) I began my work day to the sounds of the drums first approaching, and ultimately being played to the heavens by the Youth as they danced into Zellerbach Hall. The conga, the snare, the timbale, of varying rhythm melody yet all nonetheless in harmony with the same, insistent calls. (Polyrhythmic music, as they some it in today's newfangled music labeling language. We used to say "The Drums", knowing exactly what that meant.)
The Drums, as a Call to Action.
And as my body responded -- couldn't help but respond, though Lord Knows that part of me that is bougie TRIED to stay in her auditorium seat along with most of the other "professionals"! -- for 20 minutes of that musical Call to Action, as the bodies of virtually every Black person in the room (and a few whites as well) responded because it is impossible not to respond if you HEAR the drums, I knew I was going to spend the day in the presence of giants.
When was the last time you were at a professional conference that started that way?
Yesterday I was fortunate to attend the 4th Annual CraigsList Boot Camp here at Berkeley. The Boot Camp is a one-day training and networking event for non-profit volunteers, employees, and leadership. Having been done in the Bay Area for the past four years, the Boot Camp is now expanding, traveling to other cities, to replicate the synergy that happens when you take thousands of people all separately dedicated to Doing Good in the World and put them all together.
But, as someone said yesterday, the Bay Area is the incubator. The proving ground, for political Calls to Action.
A Call to Action that need not -- should not -- be limited to the non-profit world.
