Disturbed

I remember it well. I was a freshman in college and we were covering the holocaust in one of my core history classes. None of the information was new; I had heard it all before. But this time, as I sat in a darkened classroom watching slide after slide of horrific pictures glide across the projection screen, it was different. I was thrown into a state of numb melancholy. For days I wandered through life and around campus in a distressed daze. The gnawing reality of the world’s darkness, the evil, the barbarity, the hopelessness of it all was suffocating. One afternoon I stopped by my professor’s office to drop off an assignment and he asked me how I was doing. He had noticed a change in my demeanor and was concerned. I confided my feelings with him and we talked for a while. My memory fails me concerning the particulars of our conversation, but I remember the overall point he made, and I left strangely comforted and forever changed. Yes, we were covering some very disturbing material and I should be upset about it. In fact, his purpose had been to startle his students into “feeling” something. If we were not moved by the human experience, even its darkest chapters, how could we ever attempt to understand it, or more importantly, make the world a better place? In essence, if we turn a blind eye to the darkness in our world, our denial allows its tenacious survival and growth. One might recall the viral and ever changeable quotation attributed to Sir Edmund Burke:

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

This invariably sparks a number of questions; how can a good man do anything to stop what he knows or feels nothing about? How can you fight an enemy you do not believe in or refuse to acknowledge? In the years since my young heart and mind first grasped the principle of what my wonderful history professor attempted to teach me, I have been true to the precepts I learned that day and have never shied away from the morose aspects of reality, regardless of how unpleasant they may be. Every ounce of human sensitivity I possess recoils at the thought of ignoring or forgetting the travesties of our world. The historical cliché “history repeats itself” is blaringly true, and I refuse to sit back and inadvertently be swept up into the constituency of evil because I refuse to acknowledge it. 

This brings me to the present. Last night I was thrown directly into the middle of a hurricane of emotion, and I was horrified by the reality of what that actually felt like. Before this sentiment is misunderstood, l must briefly revisit what the middle of a hurricane is like.  The epicenter of a hurricane is known as “The eye.” Curiously, the eye of a hurricane is a haven from the violence of the storm that rages all around it. It is reported that when one is in the eye of the storm it is almost hard to believe the active devastation that surrounds you. It must be very surreal to feel relatively light winds and look upwards to blue skies when reason reminds you of what rages on the outskirts of your position.

Last night I came across a number of articles divulging the terrors that are occurring in Northern Iraq. These articles were filled with reports of children being beheaded, women be subjected to the horrors of carnal abuse, people being buried alive, the list of atrocities goes on and on.  It is all truly mortifying, almost too terrible to believe.  And yet, I felt numb. My mind reeled at the reign of blood and horror taking place at that very moment, seemingly right before my eyes. However, despite the wrenching truths that my mind struggled to grasp, I was caught in the eye of the storm, looking at a picture of the limp and lifeless bodies of children who had been ravaged and conquered by dehydration and hunger, while my children slept peacefully in the next room. Was this really happening, and if it was, why did I feel so little about it? It is difficult when you spend your whole life studying the past ages of barbarism to realize that the figurative “dark ages” never really ended.  The horrors of the here and now equal those of any previous age. Yet, it is so easy to sit in the eye of the storm and push all of that unpleasantness to the perimeter. It is much easier to ignore the fierce storms of tragedy if we numb our brains in the familiar comforts of Facebook or Pinterest and post another selfie while catching up on our favorite TV series. 

Last night I was abruptly awakened to my position in the eye of the storm and I was filled with spine tingling fear. Not fear of any tangible danger but fear of the emptiness and apathy that danced around the edges of my soul. Internally I knew that the brutal realities of our world are completely out of my hands and that I cannot do much of anything to alleviate the pains of the innocent victims. What scared me was recognizing that the knowledge of our helplessness tends to prompt the construction of a luxury vacation home in the eye of the storm.  It is much easier to hide our heads in the sand than face the ugly truths that knock on our door. Like Queen Elsa, when things get difficult we tend to dash up the mountain and selfishly “Let it go,” regardless of the consequences.  

Last night I found myself on my knees praying to feel the full power of the horrible things taking place. I wanted to be disturbed, because if I was not disturbed then I was past feeling, and that was more horrifying than anything else I could imagine.  My mental ice castle in the eye of the storm was a pretty nice place, but I took a bulldozer to it last night and jumped into the hurricane.

When I woke up this morning I was still just as powerless as I was the night before to change the course of what is taking place 7000 miles away. And yet, I felt better having figuratively visited the nightmarish reality. It always feels redeeming when you reclaim your heart and soul from the grasp of apathy. After all, a heart filled with empathy, compassion, and prayer is far better than a heart filled with cold indifference.

It was liberating and strangely comforting to have acknowledged and imagined the dreadful pain of my brothers and sisters on the other side of the world; by allowing myself to be disturbed and deeply moved by their plight, the bitter sacrifice of their innocence was somehow hallowed and they were transformed from nameless victims into beloved martyrs.  The journey from apathy to empathy is unpleasant, but it is essential in the quest to reclaim our collective humanity.

I am not proposing that we wallow in the darkness and negativity of the world or that we pour over gory photos. Quite the contrary, we must cling to the light, but it is vital that we acknowledge the darkness before we are unwittingly enveloped in it.  We are in a war far greater than our comfort level in the eye of the storm would like to acknowledge.

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.”  Ephesians 6:12

In order to fight the evils that threaten to destroy all that is good in this world we must be aware of it and its methods. We must also be completely conscious of ourselves, our feelings, and our beliefs.  I think that Sun Tzu was onto something in his ancient treatise “The Art of War.”

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.

If you now neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

Many would argue that it is better to view the world in apathetic denial. Some might proclaim that they “don’t need to be disturbed in order to feel something.” I would have to disagree, for I question the depth of feeling provided by simply dipping your toes in momentary unpleasantness. Furthermore, I question the resolve or ability to make positive changes in the world of a person too afraid to face or discuss the disturbing issues. 

Allowing myself to face the full realm of human emotion, welcoming the onslaught of the disturbing does not separate me from hope or faith. Rather, it is in when I am in the depths of the storm that I find God. It is when adversity presents hopelessness that I cling to hope. I believe that occasionally we must face the ugly in order to recognize, protect, and create the beautiful.

Our civilization raised the battle cry of “never again!” after the horrors of the holocaust were brought to light.  My fear is that our indifference and sensitivity to anything disturbing will soon render us as insensitive and apathetic as those who ignored the smoke rising from the chimney of a death camp crematorium. It is time to face the enemy. It is time to be disturbed, before we lose our ability to be so. Never again?

The links to the photos of the Yazidi refugees used in this post are posted below.

http://mashable.com/2014/08/11/eyewitness-iraq-yazidis-rescue/#gallery/yazidi-aid-mt-sinjar/53e9095eb589e44a11001e25

http://3daysforyazidi.wordpress.com/

Copyright 2014. All rights reserved by Kristin E. Perez

When History Holds Its Breath

The following was written on November 8, 2012:
 

The last few days have been intensely emotional for true hearted Americans. Words cannot adequately express the array of emotions and sorrows we have experienced.  

What took place on Tuesday was a travesty, a travesty of historical proportions. I, like many others was heartbroken at America’s colossal mistake, the reelection of Barack Hussein Obama. During the months, weeks, and days leading up to the election I had dared to hope that Americans would pull through, but much to my heartbreak, the American people are far more entrapped in their sense of entitlement and moral decay than I had thought.

Tuesday was a difficult day for me. I don’t think I have prayed that much and that fervently for a very long time. I have to admit that I was emotional most of the day. I shed many hopeful and fearful tears during those prayers, and when I rose from my knees I was usually filled with the peace that only God can give. Yet, I knew that the peace I felt did not mean that the election would yield the results I wanted, it just meant that everything was going to be alright in the end.

I have been a historically obsessed person for as long as I can remember. I am rather sensitive to the emotional undercurrents of history and things of a historical nature. The moment I woke up on Tuesday I could “feel” the historical significance of the day. Regardless of who won the election, I knew that the course of American history was about to change. I woke up, dropped my three-year-old off at preschool, and proceeded to run some errands. I finished quickly and arrived to pick my son up twenty minutes early.  As I sat there in the car I was left alone with my thoughts. With my youngest sleeping sweetly in the back of my van I was able to retreat internally and assess the emotions that were swarming in my mind and heart. I felt an overpowering need to record my thoughts, but without a pen and paper I was forced to text my sister with my brief journal entry.  I have chosen to share those personal thoughts with you.

“I feel strange today…it is as if history holds its breath. I have never felt like I have lived a more historically weighted day in my life. Whatever happens today, whether good or ill, this is probably one of the most significant days in our earthly lives. I am trying not to be afraid because I know that faith and fear cannot co-exist. But I cannot shake the significance of what today feels like. The air feels different and heavy…it is like I am sitting at the death bed of one of my dearest friends. By some miracle America might be able to live awhile longer, or tonight we might have to weep as we say goodbye and watch her slowly pass away.” (November 6, 2012 @ 11:20 A.M.)

Later that night as I watched the results come in, the full impact was almost unbearable. It was a black and sleepless night as I mourned for my country and considered the bleak implications this decision held for our future.

My journey over the last 48 hours has been uniquely personal, and I can best describe it with what I would like to call “The Parable of the Scrub Oak Tree.”

Scrub Oak is a shrubby tree that is native to North America. Recent studies have reason to believe that its ancestral origins date to roughly 7000 years ago.  It is a tenacious and hardy and survives readily in dry climates with shallow soil. Despite its hardy nature, recent domestic development in my local area have increasingly rendered our particular variety of Scrub Oak a rarity and it is not uncommon to see that when people build their homes they protect and build around and within groves of this amazing and historical tree. I can attest to its hardy nature. It sends out intricate root systems and sprouts like crazy and more than half of our backyard lawn is under attack from the small grove that lives in one corner. I have actually found myself irritated with the volunteer spreading of these trees more than not.  Yet, I have come to admire this tree, and yesterday I came to love it.  

 

You see, among all of the trees whose leaves turn all different shades of red, gold, and brown and slowly float to the ground in the fall, the leaves of the Scrub Oak Tree hang on tenaciously. Just last week as I did the dishes and gazed out the window I remember noticing in passing that all the branches  on the trees in our backyard were pretty much bare, except for those of the Scrub Oak trees. The golden yellow leaves of the Scrub Oak tree were still stubbornly holding on, even after brisk winds, bitter cold, and a recent snowfall. Quite honestly, I didn’t think much of it at the time. But yesterday as I sat at my kitchen table on one of the darkest and most heartbreaking mornings of my lifetime, I noticed that the leaves of our Scrub Oak trees were slowly drifting to the ground in droves. At that moment I knew that figuratively, those tenacious American trees were weeping, our beautiful and brave land was weeping for the injured ideals of our sweet America, and I wept with it.  

For me, Tuesday night and all day Wednesday were days of mourning.  I can see the results of America’s grief as I look at the now utterly bare branches of my Scrub Oak trees. I too feel bare, and as much as I hate to admit it, over the last 48 hours I have had moments where my soul has shivered as the realization of what has happened to the America I love has echoed emptily in my bones.  But today as I gaze at those now bare branches and watch my children play gaily in the fallen leaves, I know that in the spring those branches will sprout anew.  By May of next year those naked limbs will be filled with a lush green canopy and those annoying roots will begin to sprout up again and further traumatize my lawn.

There is hope.  Even though our country is divided along unbelievably sharp moral and ideological lines, there is still a lot of goodness in at least half of the American people. We, like those obstinate Scrub Oak trees, must refuse to give up in the battle for the preservation of America and her ideals. We must be tenacious and stubborn as we cling to what is right. The Scrub Oak thrives in unfriendly climates, and likewise, we must dig deep and survive what is to come.  I can’t help but think of my favorite movie quote as I write this. This quote is from a point in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy where all hope seems to be lost and the evil is so strong it seems to suffocate those fighting for good. Frodo, who is weak from carrying the burden of the ring collapses in Sam’s arms and the following exchange occurs as the stalwart and noble Sam urges that they continue their quest despite all of the impenetrable odds.

Sam: “It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines it'll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something even if you were too small to understand why. But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand, I know now folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something.”

Frodo: “What are we holding onto, Sam?”

Sam: “That there's some good in the world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.”

I second Sam’s plea. There is still a lot of good and it is paramount that we fight for it! America is not dead, but she is critically wounded and bleeding out fast.  I pledge to her that I will fight for her and the God given principles and morals that she represents until my last breath. Even if that means I fight for a memory of what she once was.  We know that ultimately, whether in this life or the next, good will triumph over evil. A wise and inspired man stated the following concerning this epic and age old battle.

“The future of this world has long been declared; the final outcome between good and evil is already known. There is absolutely no question as to who wins because the victory has already been posted on the scoreboard. The only really strange thing in all of this is that we are still down here on the field trying to decide which team’s jersey we want to wear!” Jeffery R. Holland

This is a war of ideologies and morality and it is not only time to pick which team you want to represent, it is time to put on your jersey! History truly did hold its breath on Tuesday, and with its haggard and disappointed exhale we are left with some incredibly bitter circumstances. The only thing we can control is how we react to those circumstances. Are you going to become dejected and despondent or are you going to dig your heels into the earth like the wise Scrub Oak tree and fight like hell?

I know what I am going to do.

Copyright 2012. All rights reserved by Kristin E. Perez

Remember Who We Are

"The price of apathy towards public affairs is to be ruled by evil men."

~ Plato ~

I am humbled and shamed by the knowledge that I, like so many, have often taken my freedoms for granted. Although my heart has burned with the fires of patriotism since the time I was very young, in recent years I have allowed myself to occasionally slip into the soothing slumber of apathy. Disenchantment allows a sweet release from the heartache and responsibility of caring. For those who may not know exactly what the word "apathy" means I have provided the definition.

Apathy: a state of indifference, or the suppression of emotions such as concern, excitement, motivation and passion.

Our country is besieged with apathy. This indifference may allow some people to escape from hearing the call of duty, but it does not remove the burden of responsibility that lies on their shoulders. I was recently infected with a mild case of complacence towards public affairs. I have to admit that it was far easier to walk around with rose-colored glasses than it is to see the stark and ugly reality of our country’s current condition. But then one day, I looked into the beautiful big brown eyes of my precious little boys and I knew that it was time to take a stand. I am fighting for them. I am fighting for their future. I am committed to never stop fighting in any way I can for the preservation of the liberties that all mankind are entitled to.

We owe everything to the brave men and women who serve our country in the armed forces. Many heroes have fallen to preserve the sweet liberties that we take for granted. I pray that we will not allow their sacrifices to be met with ingratitude and laziness. It is time for the citizens of America to stand up and hold the line of battle on the home front.

"After the signing of the Constitution, Benjamin Franklin was asked by a woman on the street, "What have you given us, sir?" Franklin responded, "A Republic, if you can keep it." A critical moment in history has come; our Republic is in jeopardy. Can we keep it? If the answer to that question, as I fear, is "no," then we have no one to blame but ourselves." ~Glen Beck

We must remember who we are. We must remember where we come from. We must remember what we represent. We are the most blessed people on the face of the earth! We are free!

I have a dear friend who recently came to America from the People’s Republic of China. She sits with wide eyes filled with wonder during our frequent conversations as I speak of the election, voting, and the current issues that face America. Having the right to vote in a free election, the liberty to speak out and receive no punishment because of our beliefs, the freedom to openly attend church; these are just a few of our privileges that fill her heart with awe. These are honors that we must fight to preserve. Not just for ourselves and our posterity, but so that America can continue to provide a beacon of hope for those in other countries who can only dream of the freedoms we possess.

The following is a beautiful and stirring call by the talented artist, Krista Branch, to all Americans. She asks that we “Remember Who We Are.”

 

My favorite lines from this song are the following:

 

“Will our children be the ones asking us one day
Why we didn’t do enough
Why we gave it all away”

 

Perhaps you don’t have the courage or self-preservation to fight for your future, but do you think you could summon the strength to fight for your children’s?

It's time to wake up and take a stand

 “THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”

 ~Thomas Paine~

I recently received a wake-up call, and this is what I found.

 

Our country is in turmoil. Those who choose not to acknowledge this suffer from a deadly combination of ignorance, indifference, and negligence. This November, our nation’s future hangs in the balance. The poor decisions of both Democrat and Republican leaders have brought us to the brink, and our nation now teeters on the edge of a lethal slippery slope. The integrity of our constitution, our economic and national security, and the protection of morality are at stake.

Yet, despite the current political crisis many are choosing the path of Thomas Paine’s “sunshine patriot.” They are burying their heads in the sand and refusing to stand up and fight for what they believe in or even to stand behind those who are trying to do so. Far too many are choosing the middle ground in an attempt to feel more tolerant, moderate, and intellectual.  Heaven forbid they be perceived as a political zealot! These “sunshine patriots” obviously look down upon those politically crazed people who are open about their political views and preferences. They would prefer that we keep our opinions to ourselves, dropping our secret vote into a silent ballot box and then shutting up and living with the consequences. Their party slogan is “I don’t care who you vote for, just don’t tell me about it.” 

This “I don’t care, just shut up” political party is becoming pretty popular in certain circles. I have even found myself falling prey to its enticing platform. Who doesn't want to appear moderate, informed, and please forgive my use of the vernacular, “chill.” In all fairness, I wholeheartedly agree with one aspect of what this party’s constituents propose, and that is an attempt to stop people from spewing hatred and personal attacks. Yet it seems that many are corralling everyone with a political opinion together. The ever ambiguous “grey area” is combining the angry and rude mudslinger into the same category as the informed participant in a civil political debate.

It is important that we are not deceived by the grey fog that separates the black abyss of incivility from the untarnished white of civility. I feel that the culprit in muddying the line between these two modes of behavior is a misunderstanding of the notion of negativity. In a world wrought with negativity and depression we have become overly sensitive to anything disagreeable. In our over-diagnosed and excessively medicated society, where avoidance or popping a pill cures all ills, we seek to avoid anything that could become disagreeable. Being a Christian, I understand that many other Christians feel that anything contentious or hostile leads to behavior that is not conducive with the teaching of Christ. However, becoming too passive or afraid of argumentative situations where negativity is sure to be present only makes us ineffective and incapable of standing up for what is right.

Politics can get ugly sometimes, and when one participates in even the most civil of political debates there is no doubt that a modest dose of negativity will be present as they attempt to justify what they believe to be right and expose the ills what they believe to be wrong. Yet this should not make us shirk from the responsibility of taking action and standing for what we believe to be right!

 

I feel that those proponents of the “I don’t care, just shut up” political party suffer from a deplorable case of hypocrisy. The same hypocrisy of those willing to enjoy the freedoms won by the blood of countless patriots, yet who would be unwilling to offer that same sacrifice if time and circumstance demanded it of them.  Yes, taking a stand can be unpleasant sometimes. But those who know what is right, yet stand by in indifference and fear of what others may think are adorning themselves in the garb of a “sunshine patriot.”  This is cowardice clothed in the facade of peaceful indifference.

I wonder if Thomas Paine’s friends, upon reading his famous discourse felt uncomfortable with his negative outlook. I am sure there were those who wished Thomas Jefferson would just shut up about how much he hated the tyranny of King George. There is no question that James Madison had a few acquaintances who thought he was a bit politically obsessed, I can imagine their conversations at a dinner party where they described him as one of “those people” that was “really into politics.” Oh, and I can just see some of the less than courageous friends of Patrick Henry inwardly rolling their eyes as he passionately declared “Give me liberty, or give me death!”  Every American should fall to their knees and thank providence that these great men, some of the giants of America’s legacy, were not cowed by the petty judgments of a few of their indifferent and cowardly contemporaries. 

The truth is that we need to stop distancing ourselves from our Founding Fathers. We must stop expecting other people to stand up and preserve our great nation; we must realize that WE are the people that can make a difference. I am in no means attempting to put myself in the same arena of intelligence or courage as our Founding Fathers, I merely aspire to be like them. I am committed to not sit back and watch as the great nation they built crumbles beneath the weight of an ignorant, spiritually misguided, and lazy populace.  

A man I greatly admire stated the following:

I don’t know how you feel…but I’d rather be dead than to lose my liberty. I have no fear we’ll ever lose it because of invasion from the outside. But I do have fear that it may slip away from us because of our own indifference, our own negligence, as citizens of this land. And so I plead with you…that you take an active interest in matters pertaining to the future of this country.   ~ Ezra Taft Benson

It is time to wake up from the complacency to which most Americans fall victim. It is time to realize that we owe future generations the same freedoms that we enjoy because of the sacrifices of our predecessors. It is time to take a stand.  This is not a matter of political parties or party loyalty; this is a matter of key issues and ideologies. This the moment where you decide what you really believe in and whether or not you are willing to fight for those beliefs. Do not allow yourself to be hemmed in by your declared political party. This is not about whether or not you are a Republican or a Democrat; this is about what you believe. Take the time to do the research and then make an intelligent decision you feel you can morally stand by. 

Right now, our nation is engaged in a war of differing ideologies, policies, and values. The Constitution is being undermined and its noble precepts are being dragged down into a sea of destruction. The moral fiber and economic integrity of our nation is under attack. Our prosperous way of life and the possibility of an American dream are in danger of complete annihilation. This current conflict within America is not a war that can be fought with weapons, and we are fortunate that it has not yet demanded human casualties. However, there will be casualties if the God-fearing people of this nation do not stand up and make their voices be heard. If they don’t, our sweet liberty and the moral integrity of our society will be subjected to a gruesome end.

 

War is filled with ugly battles and death. War is heartbreaking. However, when tyranny threatens to destroy the lives and liberties that we hold dear, we must fight, we must go to war!

The silent majority and the proponents of the “I don’t care who you vote for, just shut up” political party need to wake up from their dangerous slumber. It is time for everyone to awaken to the ugly reality of our situation and shake the numbing shackles of indifference or fear of what others may think aside and stand for something; because if we don’t start standing for something, then our inaction will cause us to fall prey to the actions of the opposition.

If the Founders could lay their lives on the line to throw off the chains of tyranny and create this great nation for us, if countless men and women over the last two centuries could give their lives to defend that hard won liberty, then the least I can do is lay my reputation on the line.

 

So there you have it. Judge me as a radical or political zealot. But I know I stand in good company.

The fact is, I do care who you vote for. And I am not afraid to say that those who are voting for Barack Obama are the Tories of the 21^st century. In fact, labeling them as “Tories” is almost too kind, considering the fact that most Tories were probably God-fearing people who would have been disgusted at the current moral decline of our nation.

We currently have someone whom I believe to be a good and honorable man running for President, a Christian man who practices what he preaches, a man who believes in God and will uphold the traditional moral values of this great nation. If you believe in preserving the moral fiber and political and economic integrity of our society, then you should wake up and find the courage to stand with him. It is time to realize that we can offer much more than a silent vote. I am a housewife and mother in the suburbs, and if I can find a way to make my voice be heard, then so can you.  What can we do? Sound the wake-up call.  Get the word out, politely share your beliefs in any way you can. Take an active role in educating your friends and neighbors whether that avenue is through Facebook, your personal blog, a BBQ, or standing in line at the grocery store.

“We must make our influence felt by our vote, our letters, and our advice. We must be wisely informed and let others know how we feel. We must take part in local precinct meetings and select delegates who will truly represent our feelings. I have faith that the Constitution will be saved…but it will not be saved in Washington. It will be saved by the citizens of this nation who love and cherish freedom. It will be saved by…men and women who will subscribe to and abide the principles of the Constitution.”   ~ Ezra Taft Benson

                                     

 I am grateful for my recent wake-up call; I hope that this can serve the same purpose for someone else.  I would be greatly ashamed if I looked back on my life and realized I had been a “sunshine patriot.” What about you? Where do you fall in the ranks? Adieu to the politically correct and indifferent political party of “I don’t care, just shut up,” because if you don’t want to hear people talking about the elections, then move to a country where they lack the freedom or ability to do so.

If my opinion has offended you, then so be it. I am sure there are plenty of people on the other side of the political spectrum who would love to balm your wounds in the comforting embrace of complacent and lazy ignorance while they fill you with sweet lies and eloquent speeches.  

This is not an attack on those who find themselves slumbering. This is an invitation to wake up and start making a difference. This is the pleading of one patriot to another. This is a call to arms, because whether you like it or not, we are at war; and we had better start fighting.

Copyright 2012. All rights reserved by Kristin E. Perez

The Diapering of Dante

"Here one must leave behind all hesitation;

here every cowardice must meet its death."
~Dante Alighieri: The Inferno, Canto III, lines 14-15

 

Welcome to my blog, "From Dante to Diapers." Within this rather limited sphere I plan to discuss everything concerning me, and quite honestly, that involves everything from the medieval poet Dante Alighieri to the joyous task of changing diapers. You see dear reader; this blog is meant to be my outlet, a place where I can spew forth my driving need to discuss philosophy and history in combination with the pros and cons of early potty training. Random you say? Perhaps, or maybe it is simply a unique twist of genius?

 

I cannot guarantee what you will find here, but I can assure you that it will be exactly what I want it to be! The quotation featured at the beginning of this post is fairly self-explanatory; it is a beautiful quote penned by the magnificent Dante over eight centuries ago. I have made it my motto and it is my way of stating that it is here that I will abandon all fears of rejection and self-doubt. I was born to write, what exactly I was meant to write is still my quest. Hopefully this blog will help me find my very own holy grail. So move over Sir Galahad, your chivalrous glow has been disparaged, this is my story and I intend to write it. To death with cowardice! So, without further ado, I will begin.

 

Perhaps some are wondering what a 13th century Italian poet has to do with diapers, or diapering for that matter. I dare say there may even be some who have no idea who Dante Alighieri is, if you fall within that category please do not be dissuaded, you will leave here wiser if you so choose. However, I do not intend to write an essay on the life of Dante, so if you wish to learn more about him you can read about his illustrious and influential career here.

 

Before I can go on, I must address the title of this post, “The Diapering of Dante.” At first glance this title probably appears pretty lewd; however, please recognize that I have no intention of hypothetically restraining one of the world’s greatest authors and strapping a Pooh bear Huggies on him. (FYI…my imagination is teeming with ways to continue this gross nightmare, but I will spare you the details of my morbid sense of humor!) No, it is a different sort of diapering of which I speak, a “diapering”in the Heraldric sense. And just to prove it, here is the alternate dictionary definition of “diapering.”

 

Diapering: In Heraldry, Diapering (from an old term for damask) is a technique in which those who draw achievements of arms attempt to decorate large areas of flat color by drawing crosshatches or arabesques. There is no standard, and each artist is allowed his own idiosyncrasies. ~Reference

 

Thus, the post title simply denotes my intention to draw attention to the achievements of Dante Alighieri, and I am free to do so according to my own standard and idiosyncrasies! Touché!

 

I could bore you with paragraph upon paragraph of Dante’s merits, but I will simply say this. His words are a brilliant sort of decadent honey, echoing through the ages and dripping with wisdom and philosophical meaning. And most importantly, he represents the ending flourish of a medieval renaissance that burst into bloom during the 12th century. (For the more curious, I assure you, there will be more about this at some point in the future.)

 

Oh, before I close I should probably state my history and purpose. I will make this as brief as possible. Basically back in 2007 I was a bookish undergrad history student under the mentorship of a number of brilliant Professors. For some reason they saw promise in me and said my “raw” talent could be fashioned into Oxford and Cambridge material, I swooned (not at the professors but at the prospect of Oxford and Cambridge!). I was determined to become a PhD in Medieval history and change the world with my new discoveries on an age that has been most terribly wronged. In the midst of my hasty preparations to transfer to a more promising institution that would spring me into Ivy League circles, I met a gorgeously dark and handsome man. What can I say? I crumbled and fell head over heels in love. Within four months I had kissed goodbye to a full ride scholarship to the more prestigious institution and kissed my groom hello with a heartfelt “I do.” Over a year later I was clutching a toilet seat and puking my guts out as I prepared to welcome the universe’s most adorable poop machine into the world.

 

So here I sit, the mother of an eighteen-month-old toddler, up to my elbows in stale cheerios and at my wits end because of the constant “whiff” of his defecations! Oh, but don’t get me wrong. I LOVE my life! For all that they are Oxford and Cambridge could never compare to the joy of my little boy’s kisses and the rapture of welcoming my gorgeously dark and handsome husband home with freshly baked banana bread. You see, I truly did go from Dante to diapers, but I am trying to find myself in the jumble. I am lost somewhere between Thomas Aquinas and Cistercian apocalypticism. It is a stormy sea, filled with pacifiers, skinned knees and medieval flagellants. I am trying to make sense of this wonderful crazy life, so if you dare, you are welcome to come along for the ride.