Toomai of the Elephants

I will remember what I was. I am sick of rope and chain.
I will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs.
I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar-cane.
I will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs.

I will go out until the day, until the morning break,
out to the winds' untainted kiss, the waters' clean caress:
I will forget my ankle-ring, and snap my picket-stake.
I will revisit my lost loves, and playmates masterless!

--Toomai of the Elephants from "The Jungle Book"
Rudyard Kipling

Irish Lessons

1. The things you want to do are possible.
   
2. The people who do things you want to do are no different than you are. They are, or were, every bit as common and every day, and there was nothing outstanding our terribly different by simply looking at them. They were simply people who had ideas and a willingness to do number three.
3. You have to dedicate yourself to the thing you want. It won't just happen. This means working, searching, sacrificing.
4. It's possible to take your friends with you, provided they participate along side you in number three.

These thoughts came to me yesterday while I was working thinking about Trinity College. Trinity is a large and old college in Dublin. I talked briefly about the library with the 200,000 books and the marble busts. Trinity has an amazing history and list of people that have gone through it. Samuel Beckett taught there, James Joyce couldn't go there because he was protestant in a catholic's world, Oscar Wilde went there before coming to Colorado. Three in less than ten years.

This thought isn't entirely new to me either. Look at good friends C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. And if we want to stretch way back, there's a whole line that goes Socrates>Plato>Aristotle>Alexander the Great.

I suppose standing in the hall, or the Long Room as the library's called, I was struck to awe by how not only can you achieve something, but you can bring others with you.

To miss a place like a person.

Ireland.

It's impossible to capture in a single post or essay the way this place feels. I think it would be impossible to present to you, in a way that is palatable and that will make you understand, the way I felt in a hundred essays or posts.

To put it simply: I fell in love with the land. Ireland sang a song to me, one that touched me at my foundation. And I miss it.

The first few days, there was apprehension. I spent most of the trip seeking what I had labeled “The Communion” in my journal. I couldn't find it in our first destination. A mixture of not knowing what I was looking for, but having the feeling I wasn't getting it, I was a little disappointed. Don't get me wrong, even in my “disappointment” I saw ineffable beauty, whether that beauty be rolling hills, sheep grazing in pastures, cattle lowing, abandoned structures older than Ireland's memory, or seals playing. Even inside of the massive cliff-fort of Dun Aengus, I had a sense that whatever it was, I was missing it.

My disappointment was light. Have you ever met someone, and felt, intrinsically, like there was much you shared, or much you could share? Did it feel sort of awkward at first while you tried to discover what that was? That was my first few days in Ireland. I knew that this country had so much to offer, things to tell me, things to show. Like any patient friend, I waited until Ireland and I found commonality. I waited for “The Communion.”

There were instances in which I almost felt like I'd found whatever that commonality was. Whether it was the stone fort on the cliff side or the island in the middle of a lake, there were instances where I felt close to metaphorical nirvana. And as one would defend the honor of a lady, I found myself almost lying for Ireland. “Oh yes, it's beautiful,” I said. “Oh, it's touching!” I might say. Granted, it was beautiful, and I would be touched, but initially, I was telling stories to protect Lady Ireland's reputation.

And then the ocean. Ancient Jews regarded the ocean as a place of deep mystery and terror. A place so vast and terrible, that you couldn't know it. If you tried to know it, you would be destroyed. The ocean. We have oceans here in America. I've been to them in three separate locations. I've been to our oceans in California and Florida. These are calm and domesticated oceans. They shine with emerald and lapis lazuli, they lazily come and go. They purr. The ocean in Ireland was a fierce ocean. It roared and shouted. It was black, gray: covered in a cloak of mist. It threatened you, and made you feel small. This was a wild ocean. It screamed towards the beach, and recoiled to strike again, the whole time the roar surrounds you. I watched the ocean until it could be watched no more, and then I listened. When sight failed, you could taste the salty seaspray on your lips: a gentle reminder that the ocean is still churning. And when the ocean spoke, I had to listen.

It was at the ocean that I found the start of what Ireland had to tell me. Ireland had many things to say, and I don't know if I heard them all. It's impossible to describe the way the ocean made me feel. Small, helpless, insignificant. Loved, peaceful, awestruck.

The door had opened, and we could be friends now, sharing secrets as only friends share them. Now I saw the beauty of this place wherever we went, and I could defend her beauty and be honest about it. Now there was magic even in her dirt and her trash.

Ireland wooed me with her rivers and her forests, her ancient buildings, and even her fairies.

But what's a relationship built on looks alone? If anything, strictly superficial. Empty. Ireland also showed me her art and her intellect. I spent hours staring into the eyes of the statues of her poets and the teachers and storytellers that preceded her. I sat in front of these statues, and I drew them, hoping to capture some semblance of what I felt in that moment.

Have you ever fallen in love? Most of us probably have. Have you ever had that love become unrequited or, for one reason or another, cut short? That's what it was like to leave Ireland. The day before we left, I spent time by myself, time in prayer. I was going to miss this place, and it would be hard to leave.

The day we left, I could muster little joy inside me. I felt that dull ache that accompanies loss. I could feel a ball in my throat, and heat in my eyes. I spent the flight home fighting tears. I was going to miss the people I came with as much as the country herself. We all hugged and said our goodbyes in front of the baggage claim, then some of us went outside to wait for cars. I could feel the tears coming on stronger now. I watched as one left, then two, then another, and another, and another, until it was just me.

Finally, my ride came. My family was pressing me for details, and I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I cried for want of Ireland.

I felt better, emotions released. I slept early and I slept long that first night back. I woke up early, and Ireland was still fresh on my mind, and the empty feeling in my chest still strong. I felt a stillness inside of me. I was not me, but I felt more like myself than I had. I was quiet, and though I was at work, I was in Ireland. I was thinking and contemplating. Much like how I spent my day, I spent my night.

Again, this morning Ireland woke me early, beckoning, “write.” I still miss her, and with such things as parting ways and missing a loved one, it feels as though it will never leave. Even now I listen to music I heard over there as one might reread letters sent to them by someone from far away.

I keep trying to figure out if the way I feel is rational or not. If it's warranted, or if I'm over-emotionalizing this event. I can't find an answer that is conclusively “no,” which leads me to believe that it's real. And that's when you know it's love, right? When it's strong and doesn't make any sense. And if there are two things I lack, it's strength and sense.

This Is Serious. Help Find Maddie McCann

The following is taken word for from the blog of Princesse Frecossaise. I can't even describe how terrible of a crime this is. This poor girl and her family, and the pure mal-intent of the people that have done this.

Okay folks it is time to join together and do as much as we can for a good cause.

6 days ago, 3 year old Madeleine McCann disappeared from her bed in an apartment on holiday in the Algarve, Portugal. Just yards away her parents were eating dinner, checking on Maddie and her younger twin brother and sister in their beds every half hour.

Tragically, when her mother checked in on the children at 10pm, only half an hour after their father had, the window was slightly open and Maddie had disappeared.

Since then the Portuguese police have been searching for her, a witness has come forward to say on the night in question he saw what looked like a bald man and a woman walking briskly with a blonde young girl in their arms, heading for the coast. If this was Maddie, she may not even be in Portugal anymore.

The fear and worry of Maddie’s parents and family must be indescribable. I can not even begin to imagine what they must be going through. Their beautiful 3 year old daughter, taken away from them. Are you a parent? Do you have a small child in your life? Imagine they disappeared, imagine not knowing if they were safe.

Police have now suggested Maddie may have been taken for the purposes of a paedophile ring.

Anyone will understand how tragic this is, how inhumane, a child taken from their loving family. You may think there is not a lot we can do. But we can do a little. And every little helps.

If you are religious, pray for the safe return of little Maddie.

If you are in Portugal, help with the search, look out for any evidence, even the smallest piece of information may be of importance. You can do your bit by clicking here and downloading a poster to help find Madeleine. And if YOU know something, or have seen something that may be crucial evidence, The Sun Newspaper are offering a £10,000 reward for any information that may lead to the child being found.

If you have a blog, spread the word, even a few sentences may inform others, or just show that you care. A blog can be accessed by anyone in the world, and you can do your bit by posting a picture, writing a short post giving some information. I have found that the blogging community is full of wonderful, caring people, no matter where you are, (yes, even America!) you’re blog is read by people from Portugal, Britain, Europe…The blogosphere is a powerful place. Have your say. Show you care. Spread the word.

This is a 3 year old child we are talking about. 3 years old. Taken from her family in the middle of the night. Every parent’s and child’s worst nightmare.

Madeleine turns four on Saturday…

My heart goes out to her family.

The Nanny State: The Case for McDonald's

so, a visitor hit my blog. in particular the "nanny state" one and left a comment. my response to the comment was so massive that i decided to make it a whole other blog, and hopfully "jillibean" will come back and respond to my response. so, first, her comment:

Hi - I stumbled across your blog this afternoon - I just wanted to make a quick comment regarding the McDonalds lawsuit. If you actually read the opinion (as I have) and know the facts of the case without jumping to conclusions based on what you have heard on the radio station or from friends (or however else this story passes from one individual to another), you'd know that 1. the woman's claim DID actually have merit, and 2. she did not end up actually getting more than a paltry amount of recovery from the fast food chain (rather than the millions Americans assume she 'won'). I dont mean to come across as rude or bitchy, but as a lawyer myself, I have a problem with people assuming things such as this, and going so far as to joke that an elderly woman with 2nd degree burns should be kicked by a giant shoe.
Thank you.

and then my word for word response:

thanks for the comment, and assuming everything you said is true, i apologize for not having done my due diligence. and again, my shoe comment is a sarcastic joke, and isn't meant, moreover, if i knew it was an old woman, i wouldn't have said it.

thanks for stopping by. i apologize that you don't see me at my "true form," if you will. i rarely venture into political matters because i'm as deft at politics as an elephant is at shuttle weaving.

i just went and read about the case, and i didn't know she was so old and that the damage done to her was so extensive. nevertheless, there are a couple of things that make you sort of stare into dead air like the proverbial deer and headlights.

first, her lawyer sued because of defective merchandise. no. again, coffee's meant to be hot, and when you try to pry open a lid by placing it between your legs, that's an error of extremely poor judgment, and in no way the company's fault.

second, out of simple human compassion, when mcdonald's learned what happened, they should have said, "hey, we're a huge company, and this lady's old. let's do the gentlemanly thing and foot the doctor's bill." did they? no. should they have? yes.

third. instead they offer her 800 bucks as if that will put a dent in her 11,000 dollar skin graft job. don't be a dick mcdonalds. don't even insult a person like that. if you know a person's need, and you know you can meet a need, meet it.

next, she takes it to court. again, i don't think she has a legal reason to sue, especially since the lawyer's reason is imaginary. nevertheless, the lawyer seeks an out of court settlement, which mcdonald's doesn't take. even from the mouth of Jesus, if someone seeks to settle out of court, DO IT.

lastly, her initial lawsuit was for 11k, the cost of the operations. that's fair. the amount settled on by the court was some 640k, almost 66 times that of the initial claim. however, the two parties settled on an undisclosed amount less than 600k. so, we can assume it was the initial amount, or something in between. if it was anything more than twice the initial amount (to cover legal fees etc.), i think we've crossed the border into "ridiculous" territory.

all this isn't to say that, now that i know the truth, i don't empathize with the woman. i just don't think that the whole lawsuit route was the best one. mostly, when mcdonalds as a whole (whoever that includes, whatever that means), they just shouldn't have been such douche bags. man was that a long response.