Meditative food for thought. I used to think I had choices. Now with the political and natural climate, I am less sure. Age has stolen much of my optimism and left me with more and more moments of resignation. I’ve marched and campaigned for better climate, women’s rights, children’s health and more. And now it is unraveling in push back and division. Choice. Something to think about.
I first heard about ‘moneytheism’ from the husband of a University professor. She was a teacher, a mentor and the three of us became friends. Her name was Margaret. The students (and staff) called her Madame. She wasn’t French though. She was Austrian and had lived in Paris’ Left Bank, and studied at the Sorbonne.
He was Rolf, a Bavarian, and a Classical style artist commissioned by the Catholic Church to paint new murals and restore old ones.
During the late 1930s, someone reported Rolf for his relationship with an Austrian Jew. He was detained by authorities and questioned. That got his name put on a list. After refusing to sign an oath of allegiance to the Third Reich, he was imprisoned.
Margaret knew she had to leave Europe. Most of her family had been taken away by then. She headed for England. Leaving France, she was searched. The only things they took were her papers from the Sorbonne. Those papers verified her fluency in seven languages and several thesis works.
She became a maid in England and later, a nanny in New Orleans. She applied for a job teaching languages at Tulane University. They allowed her to sit for oral and written exams to verify her language skills. She aced every test (including classical Russian as well as old and modern German). Tulane, over time, awarded her degrees needed to continue teaching.
Rolf was crippled in both legs after trying to escape the German prison by jumping out of a third story window. They did nothing to reset his broken bones. A Priest was summoned to read him his last rites. He spit on the Priest.
When it became possible , Madame tried to find Rolf through organizations helping reunite people separated by the War. When meeting him in New York, she found the love of her life completely broken - both spirit and body.
Madame was recruited for a professorship that suited their situation well. They found their way to Puerto Rico. She was a gifted teacher, loved by staff and students.
Rolf painted again. His paintings reflected what he saw and experienced during the war. It was hard for me to look at them. He never recovered from the trauma inflicted on him. He was the most tortured soul I’ve ever met. And he could become agitated to a point of rage and violence.
At the University, I built a language laboratory for Madame’s phonetics classes. I had a work-study scholarship and coached phonetics as well. I would help them out at their home as well.. Errands, drive them to places, small repairs at their apartment. Madame would cook old world stews and delicious deserts. There were many visits and intriguing discussions.
Madame would often warn me about officials who make ‘lists’.
This is powerful, as well as beautiful, writing Janisse. You are an inspiration to so many and you help influence the choices we do make.
As Jessica said, it is increasingly difficult to live with a foot in both worlds. Yet, I pick up my phone or IPad to read these words of power and inspiration because I need them. I sit down to my computer to edit and polish a poem or essay. I rarely look at FB and I work email a couple of times a week. It is a way of writing to those whose real addresses I may not know or have. Or to announce an open mic reading. Or a writing workshop. Yet, I still write letters too. I love stamps and cards, which I collect. I handwrite nearly everything in first draft.
I chose to take FB off my phone one day as I sat on the porch of my 80 year old house and felt a cool breeze ruffle my hair and looked out to the meadow to see the long grasses, gone golden in Oct, undulating like waves and wild turkey stripping the seeds from their stems when they stilled. And I thought, never again.
But what would I do without Substack and the many profound writers I read here? They touch my life as surely as the mountain rising above my neighbor’s roofline. I need them. I am them. We find ourselves caught in the “belly of the beast.” But we do not have to live there. We pry that stiff jaw open, avoid the razor teeth of those in power who strip us of choice, and walk in beauty as often as we can. And we work to keep the Earth safe from the many and varied saws of the greedy.
Thank you for consistently, artfully calling our attention to what needs attending, or a tending. That includes us. May you, Janisse Ray, may we all, walk in beauty.
Another beautiful essay! I don’t want these pieces to come to an end. As I scroll down the page, I keep hoping there will be more so I could continue reading your thoughts. The beauty is that they totally resonate with my own and so they reassure me about the choices I am making on a daily basis to live an oppression-free life. ❤️
Thank you. Interest rates, inflation, profit before people....I have felt severely compromised by lack of deep choice. There is a " rare earth metals" mine looming on my horizon. Current forestry practices consume the detritus necessary for the possibility of future " old growth forests". Wildfires are real. Beavers are gone. Air, Water, & The Land are not of private ownership. Breath, drink, & borrow.
Magical writing, still and again! I’ve followed you since that first book, and you have not let us down. Deep gratitude for your voice and for this post especially.
Oh, I need this post! I feel this love letter to your wild and choice-filled life. Just this morning I was mourning that writing at my computer (poems, Substack posts, blog posts, picture books) traps me in a room with no wind, no wild fragrances, no bird calls...even though I live on 3 acres of mature trees as well as saplings including 5 year old longleaf pines, with birdfeeders full of many species. My brother manages a huge long leaf forest in East Texas and my state forester son teaches Texas landowners how to use fire for forest health. And yet here I sit trying to communicate all that with a keyboard. Your nature writer hug reminds me to make a better choice!
I've felt for a long time that capitalism isn't working for us anymore. I've never examined it the way you have in this essay and I want to thank you for it. You hit it on the head when you spoke of the big choices, the out of the box choices. I like my out of the box ways but it is increasingly difficult to live with a foot in both worlds. Thank you.
We began living outside the box in 1986, Janisse, at mid-life. It was hard then. It is even harder now, because resisting the culture costs so damn much. But we're grateful. And I'm grateful to you for this beautiful testament. Thank you.
Meditative food for thought. I used to think I had choices. Now with the political and natural climate, I am less sure. Age has stolen much of my optimism and left me with more and more moments of resignation. I’ve marched and campaigned for better climate, women’s rights, children’s health and more. And now it is unraveling in push back and division. Choice. Something to think about.
"money-theism" is at the root of so much. It too, is a choice.
It's embedded in our minds and culture at birth. Struggling to break free of it is worth any effort needed.
Money-theism! That's a new one for me.
I first heard about ‘moneytheism’ from the husband of a University professor. She was a teacher, a mentor and the three of us became friends. Her name was Margaret. The students (and staff) called her Madame. She wasn’t French though. She was Austrian and had lived in Paris’ Left Bank, and studied at the Sorbonne.
He was Rolf, a Bavarian, and a Classical style artist commissioned by the Catholic Church to paint new murals and restore old ones.
During the late 1930s, someone reported Rolf for his relationship with an Austrian Jew. He was detained by authorities and questioned. That got his name put on a list. After refusing to sign an oath of allegiance to the Third Reich, he was imprisoned.
Margaret knew she had to leave Europe. Most of her family had been taken away by then. She headed for England. Leaving France, she was searched. The only things they took were her papers from the Sorbonne. Those papers verified her fluency in seven languages and several thesis works.
She became a maid in England and later, a nanny in New Orleans. She applied for a job teaching languages at Tulane University. They allowed her to sit for oral and written exams to verify her language skills. She aced every test (including classical Russian as well as old and modern German). Tulane, over time, awarded her degrees needed to continue teaching.
Rolf was crippled in both legs after trying to escape the German prison by jumping out of a third story window. They did nothing to reset his broken bones. A Priest was summoned to read him his last rites. He spit on the Priest.
When it became possible , Madame tried to find Rolf through organizations helping reunite people separated by the War. When meeting him in New York, she found the love of her life completely broken - both spirit and body.
Madame was recruited for a professorship that suited their situation well. They found their way to Puerto Rico. She was a gifted teacher, loved by staff and students.
Rolf painted again. His paintings reflected what he saw and experienced during the war. It was hard for me to look at them. He never recovered from the trauma inflicted on him. He was the most tortured soul I’ve ever met. And he could become agitated to a point of rage and violence.
At the University, I built a language laboratory for Madame’s phonetics classes. I had a work-study scholarship and coached phonetics as well. I would help them out at their home as well.. Errands, drive them to places, small repairs at their apartment. Madame would cook old world stews and delicious deserts. There were many visits and intriguing discussions.
Madame would often warn me about officials who make ‘lists’.
Rolf would rant explicitly about Moneytheism.
An excellent essay about our challenges living in today's world.
To choose kindness over cruelty--how many things would be made right if only we did that!
Are you okay if I add that?
Yes, that's fine with me.
Exactly! Well said.
Thank you, Christina.
Excellent, Janisse.
Thank you, Larry.
This is powerful, as well as beautiful, writing Janisse. You are an inspiration to so many and you help influence the choices we do make.
As Jessica said, it is increasingly difficult to live with a foot in both worlds. Yet, I pick up my phone or IPad to read these words of power and inspiration because I need them. I sit down to my computer to edit and polish a poem or essay. I rarely look at FB and I work email a couple of times a week. It is a way of writing to those whose real addresses I may not know or have. Or to announce an open mic reading. Or a writing workshop. Yet, I still write letters too. I love stamps and cards, which I collect. I handwrite nearly everything in first draft.
I chose to take FB off my phone one day as I sat on the porch of my 80 year old house and felt a cool breeze ruffle my hair and looked out to the meadow to see the long grasses, gone golden in Oct, undulating like waves and wild turkey stripping the seeds from their stems when they stilled. And I thought, never again.
But what would I do without Substack and the many profound writers I read here? They touch my life as surely as the mountain rising above my neighbor’s roofline. I need them. I am them. We find ourselves caught in the “belly of the beast.” But we do not have to live there. We pry that stiff jaw open, avoid the razor teeth of those in power who strip us of choice, and walk in beauty as often as we can. And we work to keep the Earth safe from the many and varied saws of the greedy.
Thank you for consistently, artfully calling our attention to what needs attending, or a tending. That includes us. May you, Janisse Ray, may we all, walk in beauty.
Thank you for this lovely & kind invocation. And wonderful writing too, Mendy.
Another beautiful essay! I don’t want these pieces to come to an end. As I scroll down the page, I keep hoping there will be more so I could continue reading your thoughts. The beauty is that they totally resonate with my own and so they reassure me about the choices I am making on a daily basis to live an oppression-free life. ❤️
You are my sister.
Thank you! Your writing a beacon in the darkness.
I appreciate that so much. I choose to love it! :))
This is the most important thing I have read in weeks.
It came from the ethers, Ray.
They wrote well.
Thank you. Interest rates, inflation, profit before people....I have felt severely compromised by lack of deep choice. There is a " rare earth metals" mine looming on my horizon. Current forestry practices consume the detritus necessary for the possibility of future " old growth forests". Wildfires are real. Beavers are gone. Air, Water, & The Land are not of private ownership. Breath, drink, & borrow.
That last line is killer. I feel your pain. xoxo
Magical writing, still and again! I’ve followed you since that first book, and you have not let us down. Deep gratitude for your voice and for this post especially.
Thank you, Ellen. I'm glad we're still together after all these years.
Oh, I need this post! I feel this love letter to your wild and choice-filled life. Just this morning I was mourning that writing at my computer (poems, Substack posts, blog posts, picture books) traps me in a room with no wind, no wild fragrances, no bird calls...even though I live on 3 acres of mature trees as well as saplings including 5 year old longleaf pines, with birdfeeders full of many species. My brother manages a huge long leaf forest in East Texas and my state forester son teaches Texas landowners how to use fire for forest health. And yet here I sit trying to communicate all that with a keyboard. Your nature writer hug reminds me to make a better choice!
Nature hug! That's so nice. Thank you, Anne. And that your brother and son from a longleaf fire lover.
I've felt for a long time that capitalism isn't working for us anymore. I've never examined it the way you have in this essay and I want to thank you for it. You hit it on the head when you spoke of the big choices, the out of the box choices. I like my out of the box ways but it is increasingly difficult to live with a foot in both worlds. Thank you.
We could keep unpacking this, Jessica. I'd really love to hear more about how you have a foot in both worlds. But I'll just say thank you.
We began living outside the box in 1986, Janisse, at mid-life. It was hard then. It is even harder now, because resisting the culture costs so damn much. But we're grateful. And I'm grateful to you for this beautiful testament. Thank you.
Susan, you are right to use the word "cost." I look at my mother's life and I see so clearly what her non-tech lifestyle costs her.
Thank you, thank you. Outside the box is where life really is.
Is it ever! Can be difficult to stay there, as society continually tries to yank us back inside, but so worth it.