Concetto 3

~Abby

Blue Hair Red Spot

Taken at the Italian Pride Parade: Rome, Summer 2009

~Abby

WORK IN PROGRESS

The Lady in Gaga

Oh, T.V. screen

show me my dreams

Manic-pixie

Bubble-gum baby

Spicy hellcat

Sugar sweet lady

dream girls

in flat screens

Not talkin’ crazy

‘cause she can get laid

If you’re not hot

go back to the kitchen

because the T.V. screen only

goes googoo for gagas

Can Mr. T.V. capture complexity?

girls gone wild

Women are sexxxy

Does Mrs. T.V. delve 3-D?

Gaga feminism

Self-objectifying

Prude if you don’t

Whore if you do

but demand

to be seen

as a person

Ariana Fox

No title yet (just something I wrote for a writing sample recently)

      One. Two. Three… One. Two. Three… One. Two and three. We all have a beat that is distinctly our own, like a fingerprint. Each person’s heart drums out its unique song, but oftentimes we walk past each other without even noticing this quiet symphony happening around and within us. I too was guilty of this before participating in the drum circle at the West Side Catholic Center, an organization providing services to people experiencing homelessness on the West Side of Cleveland.

        The most challenging part of working at the West Side Catholic Center is the hierarchy that arises between the clients and me. By no means do I want this chasm to exist, but sometimes it feels inevitable because of the relationship that results from being the person with access to the material objects that others want or need. Most conversations seem to lead to a point where the client says some variation of the following, “You work in the back, right? Can you get me a radio?” I am the “giver,” while the client is the “receiver,” the servant versus the person being served. This exchange is shallow, dehumanizing for both people and leaves no opportunity to truly appreciate the mystery that lies in the “other.”

      I do recognize that I chose to work at this agency because I want to assist people in getting the items they need. I am grateful for the opportunity to, very literally, “clothe the naked and feed the hungry”, but at the same time, I have a deep sense that there needs to be something more. If a superficial exchange is all that we share together, we are missing each other in a fundamental way.

      I am constantly seeking ways to upset this dynamic, but the most beautiful and almost effortless channel has been in the drumming circle we have once a month. In this space, all of the labels and power dynamics melt away easily, and we are able to meet each other in a different way and more importantly, on the same level.

      The normally loud and chaotic drop-in center is transformed into a sacred space of encounter. Staff, clients and volunteers sit intermingled on the blue plastic chairs used during the busy lunch hour.  The tables are pushed to the side, and the chairs are placed in a circle, a symbol of inclusion, unity and wholeness. Each person holds his or her own instrument, be it a drum or an extraneous item from the kitchen.

      We go around the circle, and everyone takes a turn striking his or her instrument once. Each drum, like each person, has a unique voice, and we take time to reverence and to listen to them all. The symbolism is clear: we all come to this circle with different backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives that make our own voices unique. This diversity is what makes the moment we are sharing now so significant and healing because we bring each other to a place greater than we could ever hope to achieve alone. My empty coffee tin and drumstick aren’t impressive by themselves, but when combined with the rhythm of the other “voices,” the hollow and metallic music they produce is a welcomed accent to the rich and smooth sound of the drums all around.

      The leader of the circle starts with a simple beat, and we all mimic his motions in a voiceless call and response. We play in unison at first, but gradually each person modifies the sentence until we are sharing the beat we feel inside, the one that is distinctively our own.  We all have our own rhythm to bring to the circle, but the underlying beat from when we started is ever present and keeps us tied to one another. I play a simple One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. The rhythm fills me and causes me to sway. As I play with my eyes closed, I hear the beat of another drummer from somewhere in the circle, and I notice that my pattern has begun to change. One. Two. Three. has now become One. Two and three… One. Two and three… One and two and three. I have let the unknown drummer in, and this person has moved me from the inside. Our beats intertwine in a dance, a constant ebb and flow, that ties us to one another. I focus in on a different beat and the process starts again and is happening all around me. This is the rhythm of life: an initial encounter, time shared together, and then the inevitable moment of parting with the knowledge that we have been changed.    

      The door opens, and a new client walks into the room in the midst of this soulful exchange. He is timid and sits in a chair outside the circle at first. I walk over, hand him a drum and invite him to join without saying a word. He moves into the group and smiles as he finds his own voice and hears it in relation to the others who are already confident.

      We continue drumming for awhile, blissfully unaware of the minutes passing. Finally, when the group feels that the song has run its course, we start to wind down. Listening to one another, each person plays slower and slower until we end together on the final beat. One. Two. Three... One…Two…Three…One.

Brenna Davis

I DO NOT KNOW THE ENDING

I DO NOT KNOW THE ENDING

Leaving behind the palaces of my youth, in search of truth, and crashing my way down from all those previous comforts, I found myself strapped into place on a moving chair.  With eyes closed I dove into unknown.  Only in the blinding silence of my shame did the world open up, as if in a song
One more day my brother
    For you are not alone
give me your hand and
ill do my best to show you the road
For each of us has more to say
Our truest selves are hidden away
our canyons and moles often have
the most to say
So ease up that struggling mind
and know we're all in pain
let your one true form free
even though words
and thoughts have tucked it away

For the Lord isn't found up high in the lofty palaces of decadence and luxury.  Or in the passionate ecstasies and blazing fires of drinking and sexuality.  No the spirit is down low, humming to comfort those in pain, moving through the hearts of those who show patience and caring.  Growing our lives with confidence and purpose that only a belief in God's divine love can provide.  

Thus the Lord says to us all, you are a human being and you must speak with Truth.  For I the Lord already know the truth in your heart, but i demand you recognize your truth, and I demand you control your own actions with this truth.  Find me in humility and your heart will be filled with sympathy and compassion, and you will love your fellow man saying, let us both help each other,  as we work through this mystery of life.  Close your eyes and fall into the wave of God's Love and Peace.  Allow yourself to let go and be moved by your inner space.


By,
Joseph John Steuert V