Frogs Redux

The morning after the frog serenade found me on the path once more. I felt somehow compelled to return to the site to experience the amphibious aria again.

Splashes accompanied me as I walked along the pond. Unlike other local wetland areas, the turtles here seem skittish and retreat to the water as I come near. The area laid still and quiet. The morning was more humid than I had expected and the mugginess seemed to repress activity.

I passed the place where I had picked up a handful of molted Canada Goose feathers the day before. Then up a rise and I heard it begin – the distant tones blurted in rapid succession from hundreds of throats. Unlike yesterday, I did not just smile – I actually laughed out loud at the sound.

As the volume increased, so did the activity around the pond. This morning, frogs were hopping around unconcerned and it was now the turtles’ turn to sit still in observation. Unlike before, I could see little green heads popped up all over the surface of the water, the sun picking out each singer clearly in the algae-laden pond.

Motion drew my eyes upward. I saw a Loon swoop past, and just seconds later a graceful white Egret flew in the opposite direction. I hardly had the chance to appreciate those views before an even larger figure attracted my attention yet higher. Overhead, there it was, the B-52 of birds – a Bald Eagle. I had seen examples at the Pittsburgh Aviary, but never in flight. The massive wingspan seemed to dwarf the surroundings.

Once the majestic bird left my sight, I returned my attention toward the never ending din from my frog friends. I saw movement in the leaves just a few feet below where I stood. I moved carefully around, but could not pinpoint the cause of the unnatural shaking. I moved to the other side of the tree trunk before me and stooped to see a muskrat busily munching away, clearly oblivious to my presence.

All the while, the frogs continued their racket. They sounded like a crowd of old men laughing at a dirty joke that I could not understand. I began to wonder if these other animals were attracted to the site just as I had been. Could this gigantic noise coming from such tiny creatures actually lure other animals?

I suppose the answer lies in whether or not one believes that animals do things for reasons beyond satisfying basic needs – food, shelter, procreation. Of course, that raises the question, “What qualifies as a basic need?”

I know that laughter qualifies for me. No matter how good things get, I must have fun. Is it so unreasonable to imagine that animals find each other funny? When you think about it, if anything, the frog orchestra should chase other animals away. Predators could sneak up more easily under cover of the croaking. And the noise would certainly attract attention from far around.

I believe that dogs and cats clearly show pleasure when scratched just right, or when snuggling with us on the sofa (especially if they are not supposed to be there). So, why can’t other mammals, birds, and turtles have the same emotions? Humanity certainly does not own a monopoly on feelings.

Concert on a Summer Morning

After many days of sweltering heat, the morning was glorious. I veered off the main trail onto a side loop past Wood Duck Pond. As I walked past smaller inlets toward the larger body of water, I heard occasional movement through the trees. The sound resembled something larger moving through the dense brush, like a deer. So, I stopped frequently, peering through the leaves.

Seeing nothing, I suddenly heard a remarkably loud noise ahead on the trail. I walked toward the sound, growing ever louder. Honking? I had heard a similar cacophony when geese were fighting over ownership of a particular spot. The volume increased with each step.

I crested a small rise and could now see the pond stretching into the distance. I realized that the voices I now heard were not birds, but a vast chorus of frogs. Their range was somewhat limited, but I could still pick out dozens of croaks ranging from second alto to perhaps baritone in pitch.

I walked carefully, not wanting to interrupt the performance. But, my presence seemed to affect the singers little. I approached the edge of the path, which then dropped a dozen feet or so quickly into the water. The overgrowth, however, kept me from seeing my crooners.

In my mind, these frogs could only be massive. The local acoustics were certainly not conducive, and yet they belted out their notes clearly. I envisioned soccer ball-sized amphibians crouched along the shore, with perhaps a conductor perched on a convenient lily pad.

A splash. Then another. Finally, I managed to follow one into the water and spotted his head. Why, these creatures were surprisingly small, no larger than the palm of my hand. Once I got the knack of spotting them, I saw them everywhere. Heads popping up out the water all around, with bellowing cheeks puffing up. Absolutely amazing how so much sound can come from such a tiny body.

I don’t know why, but I felt giddily joyous and could not repress a smile. Listening to this ensemble brought me true glee as I listened. The sound overwhelmed everything and I become lost in the music. The sound dominated the area, almost assuming a physical presence.

In the last years of his far too short life, jazz musician John Coltrane worked on a concept called a “wall of sound.” The intent was for the music to come together literally into a solid wall, so that the listener no longer distinguished individual notes. Some of the best examples seem, to ears unaccustomed to this music, almost noise. But, Coltrane had experienced a spiritual awakening and was pursuing what he considered cosmic music.

The din of my little green frog concerto brought me close to that sound. And when you hear that cosmic wall of sound, only joy results.

(please forgive the poor quality of the video - I didn't even realize my phone took videos until I tried this morning)

If You Can't Say It, Don't Legislate It

So now Ari Adler, spokesperson for Michigan House Speaker Jase Bolger, has this to say about the muzzling of Representative Lisa Brown.  "It has nothing to do with her using the word 'vagina.'  It was judgement at the time that when she finished her statement by referencing her vagina, and then saying 'no means no,' that was drawing a rape reference and he felt that crossed the line."

Then, Adler said Brown was punished because she "threw a temper tantrum on the House floor."  If you support Rep. Bolger and Stamas's censoring of Rep. Lisa Brown, then consider this.  The sure outcome (if not the intent) of this omnibus of bills will be to make obtaining an abortion in Michigan next to impossible.  Now imagine that your 12-year-old daughter is raped and as a result of this traumatic assault becomes pregnant.  If you as her parent think it is in her best interest to get an abortion, and you tell her so, you have just committed a crime.  Whatever your reasoning as her parent, you are guilty of coercing a woman to get an abortion.

By banning accepted telemedicine practices for medical abortions, these bills make obtaining an abortion to victims of rape in rural area much more difficult and expensive, if not impossible.  And, even if the women can obtain an abortion, she now has to treat the remains of this violence against her as a human corpse - she must obtain a death certificate and obtain either burial, cremation or interment.  I cannot even begin to imagine inflicting such agony on a victim of rape.

Even if you consider yourself "pro-life," Rep Brown's comments are completely relevant and important.  HB 5711, 5712 and 5713 punish the victims of rape and incest in cruel and inhumane ways.  And the blatant ignoring of the voices of women in the process of forwarding these bills from the Committee on Health Policy is yet another form of rape - men's abuse of their power in order to take away the voices and freedoms of women.

In her speech on the capitol steps last night, playwright Eve Ensler offered a list of things she is "over."  I agree and add my own.

• I am over hypocrites who pretend to care about the welfare of the unborn, whose only real interest is overcompensating for their feelings of inadequacy when facing women's sexuality and power.
• I am over people who claim to be "pro-life," but support war and capital punishment, fail to support family planning and comprehensive sex education, and actively work against funding for public schools, poverty, gun control and all of the most important threats to quality human life.
• I am over our collectively ignoring the important and powerful stories of women affected by this debate.  Men should feel privileged simply to be allowed to be part of the discussion.
• I am over men failing to take responsibility for their actions, and instead forcing women to bear the burden of our uncontrolled search for gratification through power, control, violence, and sexual release.
• And I am over rape.

Mr. Adler and Reps. Bolger and Stamas, if you think Lisa's calm and impassioned statement was a temper tantrum, wait until you hear the voices of millions of women and the men who love them at the polls.

Being a Father

I owe so much to my father.  My Dad taught me to think for myself and to stand up for what I believe in.  My Dad showed me how to work hard, serve the community, and respect others.  He listened when I needed to rant, and advised when I wanted help.  He may not have been a perfect human being (who is?) but he was a perfect father.

Most of all, my father was the one person in my life I wanted most to honor.  When I look at what I have accomplished and the work I am doing and have yet to do, I know that he would be proud.  He would be looking at me with that small grin, and wordlessly approving of the man I have become.

My father lives on in me most when I am truest to my core essence.  My father lives on when I fight for justice and human rights for all.  My father lives on when I help children and youth learn how to be themselves and find joy in the world.  My father lives on when I work as an ally to all oppressed groups, from GLBTQ folk and women to immigrants and religious minorities.  My father lives on when I let my muse guide me through the world of art and creativity, and when I saunter through the world seeking meaning in the infinite synchronicities around us.

My greatest hope in life is that my son will be a man who sees me that same way and will become that kind of father to his children; that my daughter will be a powerful and fearless woman; that my grandchildren will to learn to respect everyone, to love everyone, and to care about everyone over money, power, and status; and that through my life and deeds, I help strong and loving fatherhood endure.

The Coming Theocracy

I have worried about the state of this nation for a long time now.  Today, we took another step toward eroding the separation of church and state as the Michigan House of Representatives passed the first of several anti-abortion bills clearly aimed at forcing a narrow religious interpretation of personhood on all citizens.

House Bill 5711 is primarily concerned with how abortion providers are regulated and with the disposition of organic material following fetal death, whether by abortion, or natural causes.  Both initiative make abortion tremendously more expensive, which will in effect chase OB/GYN's out of the state and place an undue burden on women across the state seeking abortions.

During the debate on the House floor, Representative Lisa Brown (D-West Bloomfield) made several eloquent points.  One in particular dealt with her Jewish faith.  She pointed out that Jewish law mandates that therapeutic abortions needed to protect the life of the mother are not only recommended, but mandated.  Therefore, the bills under consideration would criminalize women obeying the dictates of their faith.

Of course, this only one specific example. What about the thousands of women out there who do not belong to an organized religion, or whose personal spirituality does not consider the fertilized egg as a person, with all of the rights of a fully formed human being? According to these bills, too bad.  Michigan legislators have declared that they possess the absolute truth on when human personhood begins.  These legislators not only feel that they know better than doctors or women themselves what is medically best for women, but they feel that they know better than clergy of all faiths what the law of the land should be regarding the unborn.

I try not to throw the word "Fascist" around lightly.  But this is how totalitarianism begins.  When the State can establish laws beyond its bounds unchecked, without even following its own rules of discourse and public input, then you are already on the road to tyranny.

Ironically, there is no scriptural support for this view of human personhood.  If anything, the Bible gives little regard to the fetus.  Jesus did teach us, however, to be merciful in a number of ways.  Feed the hungry; give drink to the thirsty; shelter the homeless; clothe the naked; visit and ransom the captive, (prisoners); instruct the uninformed; bear wrongs patiently; forgive offenses willingly; and comfort the afflicted, among others.  If you consider yourself a Christian, how about if we work on these?  Where are the bills to reduce poverty, create jobs, reform our criminal justice system, support public schools (especially comprehensive sex education), and provide family planning and support services for women who are victims of male violence?  House Bills 5711, 5712, and 5713 are anything but merciful, and they pave the way for the coming theocracy unless we stand up in united opposition to this intrusion into our freedoms and democracy.

A Joyful Noise

I'm just back from Lansing, where I joined several hundred people sending the message to the Michigan House of Representatives that government should not regulate our bodies and our medical choices.  When the time came to enter the legislative chamber, the stairs were clogged with pink-shirted advocates anxious to watch the proceedings as the representatives considered House bills 5711, 5712, and 5713, the omnibus package of anti-abortion laws.

The gallery must have filled, and many of us could not get in.  After 20 minutes or so, many people wandered around in the rotunda area on the second and third floors.  Soon, at least one hundred people, mostly young women, ringed the circular railings looking out into the open space.

Soon, clapping began and a rhythmic pounding of the handrails.  Then, with vibrant energy and the persistent pounding, the voices sprang into a unison chant of "This is My House," which carried on for at least five minutes without letting up.  Then another chant began, "My Body, My Choice."  The relentless pounding continued and people emerged from offices to snap pictures with cell phones. 

Ten minutes passed and another chant, "We'll Remember in November."  The noise continued, never abating in intensity or volume.  Fifteen. then twenty minutes.  At first, I stood back watching the police to make sure that the disruption was not going to cause a violent reaction by security personnel.  But, it soon became clear that they had no intention of stopping the force of these voices.

Twenty-five minutes, then thirty and no let up.  By now I had joined in with "This is What Democracy Looks Like."  I imagined that peoples' hands must be getting numb by now, but they just kept going.

I found myself unable to stop smiling.  Feeling the amazing energy and passion of all these folk was a spiritual experience.

Whatever the politicians eventually end up doing, I hope so strongly that this joyful noise spreads across the state and across the country so that no amount of money and power can drown it out.

Are Good Intentions Enough?

Yesterday, I conducted my first Blessing of the Animals worship service.  The weather graciously cooperated, so we held the service in a pine grove behind the Fellowship.  We had many two-legged and four-legged attendees, including dogs, cats, birds, one gecko and two monarch butterfly cocoons. 

The day began interestingly.  When I arrived and walked toward the Fellowship, I noticed a bird sitting on the pavement.  I was already fairly close when I noticed him and was surprised he had not already flown off.  It occurred to me that the bird was perhaps injured, so I slowly approached, speaking calmly.  He made no effort to flee and I gently stroked his feathers.

I couldn't discern what had happened, so I went inside and got a basket, lined it with a dishcloth and returned to bring the bird in to safety.  Since it was a rather large bird (perhaps six inches long), I assumed it was not a baby, but had either been hit by a car or flown into a window and injured a wing.  I cut out the bottom of a paper cup and gave him some water and then began preparing for the service.  I posted a picture of the little fellow on Facebook and encouraged anyone experienced to offer assistance.

I stopped by my companion every 10 minutes or so, asking him how he was doing and trying to offer some calming energy.  He moved very little, and occasionally closed his eyes as if trying to rest.  Since I cannot own animals in my rental home, I thought that this might be the universe's way of offering me a living friend to bring to the animal blessing, and not a puppet or stuffed animal.

About an hour before the service, I passed by the basket.  The bird's eyes were open, but he did not seem to be breathing.  I stroked him and realized that he had died, as his little body already seemed to be stiffening.  I surmised that he must have suffered internal injuries and had succumbed to them.

I was disappointed that he could not be part of the blessing, saddened that I couldn't do more to help him, and resigned to the reality that I had probably done all that could be done.  At the end of the animal blessing, I brought him into the worship, as a reminder that the circle of birth and death is an essential element of Life.  Ironically, I had read Gary Kowalski's words before the sermon:

We give thanks for the animals
Who live close to nature,
Who remind us of the sanctities of birth and death,
Who do not trouble their lives with foreboding or grief,
Who let go each moment as it passes,
And accept each new one as it comes
With serenity and grace.

Holding the basket with his little body, I accepted his death with serenity and accepted his last hours of life as a gift as the grace of the cosmos.  I couldn't prevent his death.  I can't know if he understood my good intentions.  Maybe all that matters is that I did what I could to make his passing peaceful.  Sometimes good intentions aren't enough, but they are all we can offer.  And maybe that thread of Love will linger on, strengthening our interdependent web of all existence.