Let Me Live

Mind going mile-a-minute these days which has been a welcome adrenaline-rush to the sluggish past few months of daily headaches and nausea.  What I’ve been thinking about?

Euthanasia/so-called ‘Death with Dignity’/physician-assisted suicide issue

Catching up on old New Yorkers and, as usual, am inspired by Rachel Aviv’s reporting.  This article comes to me at an apt time, as Colorado legislature is once again going to vote on a proposed bill that would allow patients of either physical or mental illness to decide to end their lives under the care of a doctor, provided two physicians approve.  It seems human compassion enough to say, “Hey, it’s their lives; their choice.”  Yet, the article brings up too many questions to be able to say that statement and leave it at that.  I found it very disturbing that the celebrity-doctors who were performing these ‘acts of compassion’ were so outspoken in promoting these suicides.  One physician would tour Belgium’s schools and second-graders would go home with euthanasia lecture fliers tucked into their homework by their teachers.  There was no mention of the monetary cost of the death treatment, but it seems that by their near-aggression in informing the public of their ethical practices allowing for self-determination and autonomy to win over natural causes, they are making the ‘treatment’ a business.  Selling a product like a circus does entertainment, a sperm-bank does the well-selected baby.  The big shot over there in Flanders, Distelmans is his name, would take other death-administering colleagues over to Auschwitz, finding the death camp-turned-memorial a fitting place to contemplate life and death.  If he’s such a righteous man and cares for his self-prescribed ‘incurable’ patients, why doesn’t he try serious contemplation with them, rather than being so eager to hand them the nighty-night pill?  Holocaust survivors have actually compared Distelmans to Hitler in his eagerness to weed out the population by his own superior hand.  Fact is, secular humanism is infecting people over there like the plague, and as it is turning out, the only cure is ‘death with dignity.’ Let them have what they asked for, bringing me to my next topic…

Can there really be a separation of church and state?

I don’t see how, since the state wants everyone’s money, no matter their allegiance to God or to the man-made institution that it is.  Simply, we all have to live under state laws, no matter where on earth, and no matter our true citizenship of heaven.  A true separation would look like Rafael, for instance, choosing to live by church mandates, and his neighbor down the street, Carlos, choosing to live by those of the state; neither being subjected to the laws of his neighbor.  Whatever society that is, it sure doesn’t exist here in wild-west-U-S.  And yet, proponents of this ideal separation say that I can practice whatever religious beliefs I have on my own time, in the privacy of my humble abode, meanwhile trying to lobby for mandatory vaccinations, passing the Patriot Act, and having our taxes go toward drone strikes and abortion clinics.  Oh, but they still tell us to come out and vote, just leave our spirituality in a safe-box at home next to our guns, er, where our guns used to be cause now everyone needs his loaded weapon tucked into his crotch in this beautiful land of the free, home of the brave.

Seriously though, I don’t think it is my place to enforce my values onto your life that may  inhibit your direction.  God does not do violence to man’s will.  God heals, yes, but faith is a requisite.  Nor should you try to fit your godless world into mine.

Questions to ask my dad

Tim is a fascinating man.  I would do anything to be able to spend a week or so with him, listening to him tell his story, recording it, and eventually writing it down.  I’m just unsure how I would do this.  Would he really open up to his daughter and bare his soul, Harvard Krokodilo happy times to drug and alcohol and divorce hell-hole days to born-again Christian salvation? I have this urge to know this man, my father.  I need to come up with the right questions before I can expect to get his answers.  If anyone has ever interviewed a loved one, please share how you did it effectively, eliciting honest, moving response.

Proulx analogies

Annie Proulx is my favorite author.  I am currently rereading her four novels and four books of short stories to compile a list of my favorite top twenty-or so metaphors.  She says she has always made analogies from the time she was about three years old, listening to classical music and thinking ‘bishop in the rain.’  She didn’t even know what a bishop was but it sounded right.  It’ll take me awhile, but I’m excited about this project and will post the list upon completion.  A sneak peek:  “The editorial page played streams of invective across the provincial political scene like a fire hose.  Harangues, pitted with epithets.  Gammy Bird was a hard bite.  Looked life right in its shifty, bloodshot eye.  A tough little paper.” The Shipping News p. 79

Meditative birth

I’m five months pregnant.  Admittedly, I should be doing less reading of Jihadi poetry “in attempt to understand” and cross-country skiing on skis that haven’t been waxed or tuned in about forty years, and more meditations focusing on gentle birth and communion with Baby.  Midwife Heather showed me some exercises to train my legs and gluts to relax and allowing everything else to open up more, but I’ve only done them a couple times.  I didn’t have internet connection–or a toddler for that matter–when pregnant with Qohelet, and did a lot more talking and singing to her than I’m doing now, but… OK, enough excuses.  1,2,3, off.

© 2016, Amaya Engleking

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