Keep Looking Up

Last night we went stargazing with the hubby's family, my parents, and an assortment of my in-laws friends.  Now, let it be known that I am 1) almost always falling asleep by 9pm, and 2) probably the lease enthusiastic person when it comes to space, much to my husband's chagrin. With those two facts put aside, I'd say that the party was a success. From a young age I have memories of watching Jack Horkheimer's Star Gazer, and this outing kind of reminded me of that. We were using a telescope powerful enough to see the stripes on Jupiter, the shadow of the rings of Saturn, and to tell that Neptune is blue.

 While I can appreciate the fact that the ability to far enough away to see distinct shapes and colors has been monumentally influential throughout history, what seems to impress upon my memory the most is Isao Tomita's electronic rendition of Claude Debussy's Arabesque No. 1 used for the theme song on Horkheimer's show. Whenever I think of the night sky, that soundtrack plays in the back of my head, as well as the excitedly exclaimed "Keep looking up!" It was never something that I could ever get that excited about but I appreciate that there are people out there who can.

Well, old Jack, the original Star Hustler (as the show was first called), died earlier this year and the replacement hosts are not nearly as good. They are knowledgable, to be sure, but they are not quirky enough to pull off the theme song or to replace Jack's intense enthusiasm. But as I'm quick to remember, change is ever present and inevitable. There will always be people in the world dreaming of the stars and looking to the heavens. As there should be. Curiosity is important and powerful stuff.  Me on the other hand - I'm content with this planet alone.



How does your garden grow

Since living on our own, the hubby and I have really taken to gardening in the yard while we let the rabbit out to frolick in the sunshine and fresh air. It has really made us more into the urban farmer trend. In our little apartment yard, we're already the proud cultivators of several strawberry plants that have been quite prolific, two blueberry bushes that would be doing better in the spring had not stunk this year, rosemary, chives, mint, and a surprisingly fast growing lavendar plant. Our experiments in the two years we've been here have taught us that when we one day have a home of our own, the yard will be full of edible things, like fruit trees, medicinal plants, and herbs instead of ornamental things that just look pretty but serve no other purpose. It has also led us to pay much more attention to the food we purchase, especially things like the salt content and additives that neither of us college educated people can pronounce easily. Nothing is sadder to me than a child who does not know where their food comes from, except perhaps an adult who still unaware.

 Pico getting his home grown daily vege

I've never read any of the Michal Pollan books or seen the movies "Food Inc" or "SuperSize Me" or any other such documentary on the subject of modern agribusiness. All I've really been immersed in is my mother's vegetable garden while a child, my own forrays into gardening for produce, and my anthropological studies which touched on domestication of food crops and the affect of diet change at the rise of agriculture. For many years now I've been a promoter of a Hunter-Gatherer style diet and exercise pattern. While specific cultures have different diets depending on what is regionally available, our current food system makes this provision increasingly difficult to follow, since it is always growing season somewhere in the world. Seasonality is lost on us, except for the fact that you have pumpkins around Halloween and cherries around Independence Day. If you don't know where your meat came from you shouldn't eat it, and if you can't handle the fact that those little baby chicks grow up to be butchered and turned into fried chicken, you shouldn't eat them either. (Side note: I'm super excite about the local independent butcher shop that is going in a few blocks away. Talk about really making the connection between that steak and the part of the cow!)

I can pet a goat at the county fair and have a lamb gyro for lunch the same day without guilt, but I don't get militant about it. I think that is the key: militancy. While I choose to grow my own blueberries and chives, I don't look down on you for buying the non-organic kind for cheap at the store. While in college I pretty much stopped drinking pop and adding salt to my food, mainly because I didn't want to pay for it (who wants to move every six months with an open salt shaker, anyway). Now when I drink pop or eat really processed foods, the first think I exclaim is how salty it tastes.  I have friends and family who span the food gathering spectrum, from hunters and fishers to vegetarians and vegans. We all get along as long as we don't attempt to convince the others that our way is supreme. And then there is the scientific fact that every body has different needs. For instance, I feel better when I eat red meat and dark green leafy vegetables; I get fewer headaches and have more energy. Luckily for my acquaintencese, I recognize that not everyone feels better eating that way. Gluten intolerance, lactose intolerance, even rice intolerance is becoming more common as we limit the strains of each product that we eat. Instead of a wild rice blend we all eat basmati or jasmine rice because they are cheaper to produce in large scale.

A garden in the yard for food production is great in many ways - its economical, it provides exercise and a sense of accomplishment, and it is a great teaching tool for families. I love to eat, but everything tastes better when you grow it yourself. And besides, who doesn't love the octopus carrots that results from too many seeds being placed in the ground in one spot?

Military Time

I got in a discussion today about the 24 hour clock, which the rest of the world uses, but here in the US we just refer to it as "military time." It got me thinking about all of the little oddities we have here verses other countries. Some are benign, such as how we refer to time after 12:00. Others, such as our views on the use of credit or primary languages, can be rather devisive. There are regional variations within the US on such matters, of course, but for the general populace there is certain common ground. Why wouldn't you start over at 1:00? That's what the clock says, after all. Of course I'll buy that flat screen tv on my credit card. Who pays directly for anything anymore anyway?





The Great Melting Pot, Circa 1909

As a nation that prides itself in its "melting pot" image we certainly try to maintain our own uniqueness. I think we resemble more of a tossed salad, where each addition maintains aspects of it's identity, but more overt signs (such as language, traditional names and dress) fall by the wayside. Why else do the children of immigrants from the 19th century still practice traditional Irish dancing and hold regional highland games, just to name one example. And yet with each new wave of immigrants we see the groups just off the boat/plane before them quick to set up barracades to assimilation. Whether it be the early english and dutch settlers degrading those "heathens" the prussians, to the waves of italians, irish, russians, jews, chinese, southeast asians, latin americans, indians and the multitude of cultures from the levant, each group finds constant resistance. That is what makes us hold on to aspects of our former lives; when the national community refuses to accept you, you form your own group united in commonalities.

I hear people complain about "illegal aliens" quite frequently, whether on the bus, at work, or in the newspaper, and yet I don't think the majority of them have actually met a real illegal. (Although, the concept that a person can be illegal is open to debate. Their residency may be, but not their personhood, but I digress.) It seems like the complaint is usually not about the person here illegally but the culture that they bring with them. There is this resistance to new ingredients to our hallowed melting pot/salad. You would think that in a nation of immigrants we would have better, clearer routes for people who are currently immigrants, instead of the jumbled mess we have now. For example, while at ASU we had a student body president who was in the country on a student visa. He got married to a US citizen, which changed the status of his visa. When the marriage fell apart a year later, the ex wife called immigration on him, resulting in his deportation even though he was still a student. While the majority of deportations are not by jilted exes, the anecdote points out the complexity of the lives that recent immigrants have and how it seems the system could use an overhaul. And by overhaul I do not mean build a wall with lasers and reinstate quotas on certain groups.

I guess the idea that I'm trying to string together is that the US is the odd one in the world. We do things differently here than in many other places - some things better, some things worse. Until we knock ourselves off the high pedestal that we've been raised to believe in, I find it hard to believe that we will ever solve our immigration issues because we subconsciously view everyone else as inferior. If we are number one, what does that make everyone else? The sum of our parts is what makes us great; it is also what makes us so darn difficult to agree. Until we accept that people from around the world have positive things to contribute to our society we will continue to have an impass.

What a difference a few years makes

It's amazing to me how much my life is different that I thought it would be three years ago.  Working full time in a job I'm not super thrilled with basically because its not in my chosen field and I would like more of a mental challenge. Married but still adjusting to the rhythm of married life, including helping the hubby learn to cook. Willingly giving up driving in favor of public transit, carpooling, and a lower stress level. These are all aspects of life that are relatively benign. Had someone told me that I'd be getting daily injections and poking myself in the eye with contacts, I'd probably think you were crazy.

I've come to grip with the fact that I was most definately depressed for the majority of last year, from the time of my diagnosis with multiple sclerosis until about this past fall. What was supposed to be one of the happiest times in our lives (our first year of marriage) had me in tears at least twice a week and sometimes more. I've been told that it is a perfectly natural reaction to a life altering diagnosis of a chronic progressive malady, but that doesn't make it feel any better. I was 24 with the energy level of a 40-50 year old. My poor newlywed husband had to put up with a new bride that was a basket case who didn't want to be touched unless it was held while crying; he has been wonderful through all of it, by the way.

Basically all I have done lately is snooze in the couch...

By the time last fall came around, I think I had had enough moping, and decided that the following spring we'd step out into the MS community by forming a team for the Seattle Walk MS. Our team, A&B's Happy Hoppers, a nod the our beloved pet rabbit Pico, became the focus of my attention through the gray winter month, and gave me a sense of purpose about the diagnosis. When this whole thing began I was in the process of trying to apply to graduate school for public health to become a patient advocate. Now I have to learn to advocate for myself instead, which, I suppose in the end will make me a better advocate for other chronically ill people. 

The strange thing is, I've been lucky so far and had one real "flare" of symptoms, which is what led to the diagnosis. I've only just begun to scratch the surface of what such a diagnosis can mean. I was at my neurologist this afternoon for a routine check up and she mentioned that they don't hear much from me, which is good.  I'm at the very beginning of what will be a life long journey and where has it gotten me so far? Itchy. Very itchy. And bruised, self conscious, a bit of a hypchondriac, but otherwise ok.

Cost-Effectiveness

I've been trying for the past few years to reread my copy of "Pathologies of Power" by Dr. Paul Farmer, one of my living heros. Having first read this book 5 years ago while finishing my undergraduate degree at ASU, it is marked up with my notes from class. Reading through it you can see the voracity with which I devoured it on initial read - the first few chapters are nearly illegible due to my underlines, cirlces, and arrows connecting the ideas across the pages. It got to the point where my markings ceased because almost all of it was being marked as something I should remember. Comical in hindsight, but it still stirs my excitement over the subject and reminds me that this is something I have a passion for and would like to pursue.

Anyway, I finally picked it up again after a good 10 months of inactivity and was once again thrown into the world of MDRTB (multi-drug resistant tuberculosis) and structural violence against the poor. This particular chapter's conversation of cost-effectiveness in terms of health care I find particularly timely, as today the nation averted a near financial meltdown.  Specifically, Farmer talks about the distribution of technological developments and the use of the phrase "cost-effective:"

"In the name of cost-efectiveness, we cut back health benefits to the poor, who are more likely to be sick than the nonpoor. We miss our chance to heal. In the settting, we're told, of scarce resources, we imperil the health care safety net. In the name of expedience, we miss our chance to be humane and compassionate. ... how can we glibly use terms like cost-effective when we see how they are perverted in contemporary parlance? You want to help the poor? Then your projects must be self-sustaining or cost-effective. You want to erase the poor? Hey, knock yourself out. The sky's the limit." (Chap 7,pg 176-7)

Farmer's distaste for the status quo is palpable, even infectious. We can not just sit by and let those in power inform us that certain humans are worth the money to take care of and others are better off dead. We've had quite the political discourse the past few years about the need to cut excess from operating budgets for programs no longer deems "cost-effective"; sadly many public health and social programs have been on the chopping block because those in power are divorced from the reality of the disenfranchised who acutely feel the effects of these decisions. As someone who grew up for the majority of my childhood without health insurance and therefore not going to the doctor unless I was really sick (which thankfully was rare), I can't help but think that those who view public health and social safety-net programs, such as emergency shelters and walk-in clinics, as expendible are blinded my their own affluence. 

But enough griping. There are, of course, successes that have emerged from the process of stream-lining. Although I find it hard to think of an example, there must be, otherwise the concept would not be so widely accepted.

 My hero, Dr. Paul Farmer - picture from the back cover of "Pathologies of Power"

To begin at the beginning

So, the online world of blogging has finally enticed another naive writer to spill their thoughts onto the intractable internet for all see and judge. As quaint as it may sound, the idea of a blog has been percolating in my mind for quite some time - it has just taken a while to get myself to actually follow thorugh. The intent of this blog is partly to vent my own frustrations with the way of the world and my own struggles,but to also find a way to celebrate the little moments that result in positive change and make the world a little brighter, at least from my little corner.

Why name it "Unavoidable Turbulance"? I take it from one of my favorite quotes: "Change begins with radical questioning and proceeds with unavoidable turbulence" from Between Heaven and Earth by Harriet Beinfield and Efrem Korngold, a book about Traditional Chinese Medicine. It is hard for me to even remember a time when I wasn't questioning something or when I haven't intentionally chosen a more difficult route because I thought that it would be more interesting. Change is one of the only contants in life, and that we must embrace it and grow, or fear it and become incapacitated. We will not always know the road ahead, but there will always be challanges that we must meet.