Summary board prepared in real-time at Randy Pierce's talk on blindness, TEDx Springfield
Summary board prepared in real-time at Randy Pierce’s talk on blindness, TEDx Springfield
Randy Pierce, an athlete who recently climbed Kilimanjaro, enjoys a spectacular view or a great sunset—even though he happens to be blind. Just because he can’t see it and has to have it described doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy. His talk was my personal highlight of the fourth annual #TEDxSpringfield yesterday.
Formerly sighted, he had lessons for anyone going through a difficult transition, not just losing sight. “The transition trauma moment is incredibly difficult…If we want to just live there, we can be paralyzed and stay there forever.” Anger and depression are perfectly normal when you lose something you’d always had, but it’s our choice about whether to remain stuck there, or use the trauma to springboard growth. He shared a powerful example of this from his own experience learning to use a blind cane.
While the blind cane was the tool that let me walk around safely, it was also my scarlet letter that let me feel less than, feel their pity, their lack of understanding…
In those early stages, you might be angry, depressed, enthused, in denial. I was all of those. I broke my cane and threw it away, focused on the risk management of how people would react to me… I accidentally knocked over a toddler [too low to the ground to enter Pierce’s sensory awareness] who didn’t have the warning of my cane. I let my vanity restrict me and it caused damage. A really good eye-opener on evaluating more of the risk and what is the right way to manage it.
Once, he asked if anyone was sitting in a bus seat, and hearing no response, plopped himself in the lap of a woman too shy to answer his query. And this, too, was a teachable moment for Pierce:
I can mitigate the challenge of social interaction. I wear glasses so others are not upset by my eyes shaking back and forth. I could have said “if you’re sitting there, please say hello so I don’t sit in your lap,” instead of “is anyone sitting there?”
What he learned from these early experiences is that the risk of being rejected by others is a lesser risk than the risk of failing to connect with those who are ready.
Reach out and connect with people. Make it safe for them. Take a way the risk of rejection for THEM. But how much greater risk is isolation? Make the risk of a little rejection and understand that [not all will work out]. People look for the safety of the community they have in their pocket (phones). But think about how many lost future communities [never occur because we isolate ourselves in our phones and ignore the people around us].
Pierce choses a dynamic, almost Mandela-like optimism and a methodical approach. He achieved an athletic feats that trips up even 90 percent of sighted people: grabbing a moving trapeze and using it to ring a bell.
I have plenty of points of darkness in my life. But how long do I have to wait until I put my focus to the dawn that’s coming, the vision? If you get that vision, there’s a great dawn ahead of you in many ways…Vision is always going to be waaay more important than sight.
See tomorrow’s post for other highlights of #TEDxSpringfield
Justice Sonia Sotomayor works the crowd (Photo by Shel Horowitz.
By Shel Horowitz
Justice Sonia Sotomayor works the crowd (Photo by Shel Horowitz.
Yes, you can be a United States Supreme Court Justice and still keep your humanity. In an hour and a half of Q&A at the Springfield Public Forum in Springfield, Massachusetts, Justice Sonia Sotomayor not only kept her content humble and hopeful, but did her best to make herself one with the audience.
She answered the first question from the stage, but then left her comfortable armchair, announced that she wanted to make herself more accessible to the people at the far corners of the room, pleaded with the audience not to do anything that would make the Secret Service agents too nervous to let her wander, and then answered all remaining questions while walking around the room shaking hands and getting photographed—and leaving the moderator (another female judge) gaping and wondering where her speaker was at times. I’ve certainly seen speakers mingle, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one who spent virtually the entire speech mingling. It’s especially remarkable in a government official; most of them stay firmly behind their podiums, clinging tightly. I can’t imagine Hillary Clinton doing that. But Sotomayor is like that; she spent her first weeks at the Supreme Court not just boning up on the then-upcoming Citizens United case but also visiting the far corners of the building and greeting the staff. She claims to be the first Supreme Court Justice to visit the telephone operators up on the third floor.
Hillary also probably has help writing her books. Sotomayor–like President Obama–writes her own, even as she acknowledged that writing didn’t come easily to her until a college mentor observed that she was thinking in Spanish (her first language) and translating.
Like Sotomayor, I grew up poor in the Bronx (and actually fantasized about becoming a social justice lawyer and eventually, a Supreme Court Justice—though I love the career I chose instead). And I was thrilled to hear her say things like:
“I wanted to write a book that would give people hope…if I [the child of an immigrant alcoholic, raised in the tough housing projects of New York] can do it, so can you.”
“Squeeze as much as you can out of every day. Give to others. Don’t take a moment to not live life at its fullest.”
“Affirmative Action was a door opener for a door that had been closed to people of my background. Many institutions like to do the same thing over and over. But that success formula excludes certain people. The question is, what did I do with that opportunity? I wanted my career to be a bridge between my community and the wider society.” She noted that others had been given similar opportunity but chose not to make the most of it.
“As a prosecutor, I learned how to seek justice not just for society but for the defendant.
“Every mentor has made a positive mark on my life, and I hope that I have for them.”
“Accept your limitations and your strengths.”
Surprisingly, when asked where in her career she had the most fun, she didn’t hesitate to respond “as a trial judge. Every day, you’re surprised! When I retire from the Supreme Court, I want to go back to it.” She misses the human contact with the plaintiffs and defendants, who are generally not present in appeals or Supreme courtrooms.
When asked why the greatest legal minds in the country have so many split decisions, Sotomayor pointed out that this is part of the Supremes’ mandate. “The case wouldn’t come before the Supreme Court if the answer was clear. We don’t take cases unless there are disagreements in the Circuit Court decisions. That’s why we have 5-4 decisions. It doesn’t mean that the four are wrong, but that the five thought another way. Some people say [the split decisions lessen their faith in government]. I hope the split means you have more faith in the government, because if everything is 9-0, we’re not taking the care we need to. And if there’s a [written] dissent, at least somebody heard you.”
Dissents, for her, are also cause for optimism. “We can write our dissents and hope to influence Congress or a future Supreme Court decision. You have to feel optimistic that things can change. You have to hold that hope, so you can let go” and accept being on the losing side. “I remain optimistic, despite what’s happening in Congress right now.
And she asks each of us to take responsibility, to do our part for a better world, even if it’s as simple as casting a vote or calling a loved one. “Whatever you do, do it with passion and caring. Not voting is the greatest act of being a traitor. What counts is caring enough to make your voice heard. Every day, I try to become a better person, a better Justice. How many of us forget to call a friend who’s sick or suffered a loss? Every day I try to remind myself that the world doesn’t revolve around me. Every night before you go to sleep, ask yourself these two questions:
What have I learned that’s new today?
What good have I done today?
“If you can’t answer those two questions, don’t go to sleep. Send someone a [‘thinking-of-you’] email. Go on Google and learn about something.
Known as a Justice who asks a lot of questions during oral argument, Sotomayor was asked if she often changed her mind based on the lawyers’ responses to the Justices’ questions. And she said that she changes her thinking based on the oral argument, though not necessarily her vote, about 20 percent of the time. To future lawyers in the largely student audience, she advised, “Be happy when we ask questions. We engage you in engaging us.” But she said often, the real benefit to her in oral arguments is from listening to the questions of her colleagues. “I see what road they’re going down, what they’re thinking.” The Justices don’t discuss cases before oral arguments, so these are the first insights she gets about a case’s direction.
In the past, the Court was a very contentious place, with some Justices not speaking to each other for years. That changed, she said, when Sandra Day O’Connor (the first woman Justice, appointed by President Reagan) came onboard. She insisted on building collegial relationships, through instituting several changes including a weekly lunch. “She made a huge difference. There’s an ethos now that if someone says something they shouldn’t have, they call and apologize.”
She chose law, she said, because “I wanted to guide people into making decisions that were fair to themselves and to other people.” It was a way to help people solve problems, and it did not require singing, dancing, or drawing, didn’t require the patience of a teacher, and did not involve medicine; as a diabetic since age 7, she felt she’d spent far too much time in hospitals to want to work in one. When the moderator shot back that Sotomayor was the best salsa dancer she knew, the 61-year-old Justice said she’d taken lessons at 50, when she got tired of being the only Latina she knew who didn’t dance. She asked her mother why she’d never been taught to dance as a child, and her mom replied, “You were always outside chasing fireflies. We could never get you to be still long enough.”
Her final advice was to remember the people who helped you and to overcome your fears. “Every job I’ve had, every obstacle I’ve overcome, I’ve been afraid. None of us gets anywhere in life without the help of others. Nobody accomplishes alone. We are each of us blessed with the good and the bad I hope each of you can appreciate the blessings in your world.”
Note: material in quote marks and not in brackets are as accurate as my notes, memories, and ability to decipher my scrunched handwriting allow (I had no paper so I was writing on the backs of business cards). I apologize for any transcription errors I may have made. Material within square brackets is paraphrased.
Freedom to exercise one’s own religion is NOT the same as freedom to stuff that religion down others’ throats. This is what the right-wing Christians have not understood about the Supreme Court decision on gay marriage. No one is forcing them to marry each other–and they do not have the right to keep others from marrying the ones they love, just because their religion doesn’t agree.
When my family was kosher, I went to private Jewish schools (yeshivas). It may have been that part of my parents’ reasons was to keep me away from the “corrupting” influence of non-kosher food.
This post is inspired by a report of a Canadian mayor telling Muslim parents the schools would not stop serving pork–a report that was a hoax (which took about seven seconds to determine). But just because the report was false (and probably motivated by someone seeking to stir up religious divisions) doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about the underlying issue: when does one person’s freedom stop and another’s start?
I am a vegetarian and I would never say to a school system, “don’t serve meat because it is offensive to me.” On the contrary, it is offensive to me when someone tells me I can’t eat the food I want because that food offends them, and I wouldn’t presume to make those choices for others. Sure, I wish more people would turn vegetarian, and I can list a dozen reasons why vegetarianism is good for the planet and good for our bodies.
I will say (and have said), “please don’t bring meat into a potluck at my vegetarian house.” A parent offended that foods he/she doesn’t eat are served in the cafeteria has other choices. There are schools where no pork is served–in fact, I know for certain that pork is not served at any Orthodox yeshiva or Islamic or Seventh Day Adventist school. It would be offensive if the Muslim kids and Orthodox Jewish kids and vegetarian kids attending public school were *forced* to eat pork. But it should not be offensive to sit in a cafeteria where others are eating it.
Editor’s note: Too much power can be as discomfiting as too little. Judi takes this analogy from a real-world electrical issue through some deep soul-searching I thought you’d enjoy.
—Shel Horowitz
Guest Post by Judi Ketteler
Last week, during a storm, lightning struck the power sub-station just a few blocks away. At the time, I didn’t know that had happened. I just knew that our power flickered strongly. When it came back on, I noticed that the fan in my office was running more vigorously. It was louder. I turned it off and back on again, but it was still loud. I was in the middle of deadline, so I chalked it up to “oh well, whatever.”
Then I went downstairs to get some water. The lights in the kitchen were crazy bright. But . . . it had grown dark outside with the storm, so I thought my perception was off. Plus, I had been sitting at my computer all day. Perhaps my eyes were bleary and playing tricks on me, I thought. Even the light in the refrigerator was brighter. I’m really working too hard, I told myself.
All evening, I thought the lights were brighter, but I shrugged it off and didn’t say anything. By the next day, when the normally quiet bathroom fan sounded like a train, the microwave sounded like it was going to blow up, and the toaster oven burned red hot, looking like it would catch fire, I knew something freaky was going on. “We’re getting too much power!” I told my husband. His senses aren’t nearly as heightened as mine, but he couldn’t argue with a toaster oven about to blow.
I called our energy company, and they came out a few hours later. They measured the current we were getting. It’s supposed to be regulated to 240. Ours was at 275. “So that’s why everything is turbo-charged?” I asked the guy. “Yep. The regulator blew. If I were you, I’d go turn everything off and unplug it all until the crew comes in an hour or so. Otherwise, it might fry your stuff.”
A 75-watt light isn’t just a 75-watt light: it may be all the power that is safe, but it’s not actually all the power that is available. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to push it. I’d prefer not to fry thousands of dollars worth of electronics in my house. To that end, the energy crew fixed the sub-station later that day, and all was back to normal: a very good thing.
But this notion that there is more power available than meets the eye has been sticking with me. There is an explanation in the world of currents and voltage and energy regulators at electric sub-stations. But what about mysub-station? Do I have an energy regulator? Because I’d really like to find it.
What Regulates It, Anyway?
You know how some days, you’ve got energy to spare? It sizzles through you, as you knock thing after thing off your to-do list. You’re motivated, creative, and have all the right ideas at all the right times. I live for these kinds of days.
I just have absolutely no idea what creates them.
I could list what I think contributes. But it’s a long and random list, that ranges from caffeine to hormones to the phases of the moon to the amount of sleep I’ve gotten to the kind of food I’ve eaten to my husband’s mood at the time to whether or not my hair lays right that day to some inspiring movie or TV show I may have happened to watch or book I may have happened to read.
None of it is IT though. Like really it. That X-factor. The regulator in the sub-station.
What governs the amount of power getting through, not just to my physical body, but to the part of my brain that cares, has interesting and creative ideas, and—most importantly—the will the execute them?
I have learned that there are rhythms to my inspiration and creativity. If I’m in a good rhythm, I better go with it. If the muse is coming to me, for crying out loud, I better welcome her and not send her away so I can check email. Likewise, when I’m in a dark place—and I go there sometimes, because I am human—I can’t will myself out of it. I have to let the force of whatever woe me back.
It’s all the times in between, which turns out to be an awfully big chunk of my working life.
Big inspiration and energy? You bet I’ll follow. Down in the dumps? I accept it as a time to refuel. But status quo, ho-hum, low inspiration, trudging through it? That’s where I’d like to tweak my sub-station. Find the dial that turns up the voltage, just a notch. Or strike it with lightning, to shock it out of its banality. Can you make that kind of lightning, or, like actual lightning, is it solely an act of nature?
I honestly don’t know.
I want to respect my psyche’s natural balance, while finding my way to more of those inspired days. Because to walk into a room and feel the lights shining brighter? That’s sort of something. I know 240 is where the voltage in my house needs to stay. But I’d like to feel that extra bright light in my brain, just a little more often. I’d like to find that sub-station. Consider the search launched.
Warmly,
Judi
This piece by Judi Ketteler originally appeared on The Story Economy blog. Find her at judiketteler.com.
I went to my first same-sex commitment ceremonies around 1979 and 1980, never dreaming that the day would come when such unions would be recognized in every state of the United States of America.
Thank you, Justice Kennedy for your beautiful opinion, and the other four Justices who added their names. And thank you, President Obama, for being consistent in your support since the day you announced that your thinking had evolved on this issue.
And thanks to the activists who brought the country forward, including those who were brave enough to do this long before it was legal.
Remember the World Trade Organization, which slipped into the shadows after massive Seattle protests in 1999? The same day last week that Congress initially blocked the possibility of fast track approval for the TPP trade agreement, the House voted to overturn rules requiring country-of-origin labeling for meat. Those supporting the vote said they were responding to a World Trade Organization ruling, judging US country-of-origin labeling unfair competition with meat coming from foreign countries like Canada and Mexico, and therefore a violation. They said they had no choice for fear of triggering sanctions or lawsuits from countries exporting meat across our borders.
I don’t know about you, but I like knowing whether my meat comes from Iowa or Uzbekistan, Montana or Mexico, Kentucky or Kenya. So do 93% of Americans, according to a Consumer’s Union survey. People like supporting US farmers, cutting down distance travelled, knowing there will be at least minimal inspection standards, even if the delights of e coli occasionally slip through. It seems commonsensical that we’d want at least the chance to become informed consumers, whether with the origins of our meat, GMO-derived crops, or the amount of sugar and calories in our baked goods.
Maybe the House members are wrong in insisting that the international tribunals that adjudicate trade disputes would deem this a violation. But if this particular House bill passes the Senate and gets signed by Obama, even the mere possibility of a lawsuit will have struck down a wholly reasonable law that protects our health and supports our local economies. And if TPP passes the Senate, other attempts to regulate commerce for the common good will be potentially gutted as well, from attempts at financial regulation to limits on the prices charged for drugs, to environmental rules and seemingly innocuous actions like requiring accurate labeling. Some of this could occur through legal action, and some through the mere fear that such action could occur.
Now maybe TPP won’t contain rules on meat. Maybe it will simply limit other ways we might try to exert our sovereignty over critical choices that affect us. But we do know that this agreement—involving countries constituting 40% of the global economy—through what’s called the Investor-State Dispute Settlement process, will establish unaccountable tribunals with the power to let corporations collect damages for loss of profits. We don’t know the precise reach of the agreement because ordinary citizens haven’t seen it. Even Congressional opponents were prohibited from taking notes when they looked at it, and “cleared advisors” who’ve seen it have been legally prohibited from talking specifics. Yet we’re told it represents an inevitable future, that the benefits will trickle down to ordinary citizens, and that those who ask reasonable questions about its profound implications are merely obstructionist whiners.
So do we demand full transparency before moving ahead? Or do we trust that the corporations that negotiated these rules have our interests at heart, and would never, in the slightest, harm our democracy? Whether or not the country-of-origin labeling on meat survives or is ended by the House bill and WTO ruling, TPP plays for far larger stakes, the ground rules that affect our very potential to take common action. The meat bill is one more warning that there are some rules and agreements where we should be careful to eagerly swallow.
Paul Loeb is the author of Soul of a Citizen and The Impossible Will Take a Little While
Over the past several months, I’ve been learning more about biomimcry: emulating nature’s designs to solve problems humans need solved. Often, the results are aesthetically pleasing, environmentally friendly, and energy conserving.
While, as far as I know, he wasn’t paying attention to energy use or design challenges like harvesting rainwater in the desert, the famed late-19th/early-20th century architect and artist Antoni Gaudí certainly was a biomimic. Here’s what the Barcelona Tourist Guide says about Gaudí:
Most of Gaudí’s constructions have an organic look to them. This basic concept of using nature as the primary influences for his creativity is reflected in the use of the natural curved construction stones, twisted iron sculptures, and organic-like shapes—all of which are characteristic traits of Gaudí’s architecture.
I just visited Barcelona, where Gaudí left his mark and helped inspire the whole Modernist movement that gives today’s Barcelona so much character—and I found myself thinking often about biomimicry, and how the Modernists used nature forms to create a powerful aesthetic. Many of our other great inventors took inspiration from nature as well; Da Vinci and Buckminster Fuller were also biomimics.
In addition to his world-famous cathedral, La Sagrada Familia Basilica, commenced in 1882 and not yet finished, he did several residential buildings, a palace for his patron, and even a stunning municipal park.
But the Sagrada Familia is probably the single best reason to visit Barcelona. It’s just magnificent. The interior and exterior are completely different experiences. The exterior is almost like it was done by an out-of-control cake decorator with a compulsion to sculpt every available surface; the interior is serene and calm, yet soaring and spiritually uplifting. It feels almost like some of the great mosques in Istanbul.
The exterior is iconic; you’ve surely seen photographs.
Arch and four towers of the Sagrada Familia cathedral in Barcelona, designed by Antoni Gaudií
A friend shared a meme on Facebook this morning: photo of an Assembly of God church marquee with this message on its movable sign: “A free thinker is Satan’s slave.”
But apparently even this is too high a barrier. All they can find are Abraham’s nephew Lot and his family—and they are not exactly models of terrific human behavior. They are taken to safety and the cities are destroyed.
Though I’m not particularly religious, I was raised in an Orthodox Jewish household. People obeyed the commandments as they understood them, but spent lots of time debating their merits—and, for that matter, dissecting the world’s news. And of course, much of the commentary on the Torah came from the sages of old, who would spend hours discussing the intricacies and shades of meaning of some obscure passage. In today’s world, the Jewish Renewal movement (which I do consider myself a part of) has again, actively engaged, reinvented traditions, and provided lots of commentary.
And this is certainly not an exclusively Jewish trait. From the Catholic Worker, Vatican II, and Liberation Theology movements to the preachings of Pope Francis, we see active engagement permeating Catholicism. And we find similar movements in the Islamic, Protestant, and Buddhist worlds (think about the Dalai Lama, for example). And, I’m guessing, in every other significant religion.
The miracle of religion, in my mind, is that people do question, grapple, argue, test out theories—and continue to come back to their own personal version of God.
I feel sorry for the person who crafted the message on the sign.
The 2015 edition of the Sustainable Development Solutions Network’s World Happiness Report is out. It lists the five happiest countries.
Drumroll, please…
Switzerland
Iceland
Denmark
Norway
Canada
Isn’t that interesting? Every one of the five is a social democracy with a strong safety net. The four European countries are also known for their leadership in reducing energy consumption and carbon footprint; in fact, Iceland’s stationery power needs are met almost entirely through (renewable, clean) geothermal and hydro. These are countries that take care of their own. Their citizens correctly assume that medical care, education, and so forth are their right, and that government will do what it can to assist in preserving the earth as human habitat. The social services are funded by higher taxes than we pay in the US, but they get something for their money. And none of them are highly militarized or known for excessive violence. (Yes the Swiss do have universal male military service— but they don’t fight wars, and in my two trips to Switzerland, I’ve hardly even seen a soldier.)
Despite the cold climates where all five are located, these are happy people.
Now, if only we could get politicians in the US to pay attention.
Starbucks has been getting a lot of flack since announcing its “Race Together” initiative. People are mostly either calling the company self-serving or questioning why a cafe chain would want to take on an agenda that seems so unrelated to its core business.
Now, I’ve certainly criticized companies for cause marketing that seems to have nothing to do with its purpose. For example, I’ve publicly questioned why Ford has chosen to support a breast cancer charity rather than something related to, say, transportation access.
And I’ve given space to Starbucks critics like Dean Cycon of Dean’s Beans, who says the coffee giant could be doing a lot more on sustainability, fair trade, and organic.
But I actually think this time Starbucks did something sensible and good, and I was really pretty shocked at the negative media firestorm.
Consider this:
In the post-Ferguson climate, where black communities are showing righteous anger about police violence, race is back on the agenda
Many legislative bodies are imposing onerous barriers to registering and voting, ostensibly to stop “voter fraud” (which is close to zero)—but whose deeper agenda seems to be denying the vote to people of color and those with low incomes
As a culture, when we want to talk things over, we do so over coffee—so what better place to start a national conversation?
Starbucks has thousands of locations in cities—Ground Zero for the recent race incidents; thus, the company has a vested interest in de-escalating tensions and opening dialog so those stores continue to thrive, in addition to the moral grounds it cites
We have a number of planned Race Together activities in the weeks and months to come: more partner open forums, three more special sections co-produced with USA TODAY over the course of the next year, more open dialogue with police and community leaders in cities across our country, a continued focus on jobs and education for our nation’s young people plus our commitment to hire 10,000 opportunity youth over the next three years, expanding our store footprint in urban communities across the country, and new partnerships to foster dialogue and empathy and help bridge the racial and ethnic divides within our society that have existed for so many years…The heart of Race Together has always been about humanity: the promise of the American Dream should be available to every person in this country, not just a select few. We leaned in because we believed that starting this dialogue is what matters most. We are learning a lot. And will always aim high in our efforts to make a difference on the issues that matter most.
If this is self-serving, I say we need more of that kind of self-serving.
