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Pain

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As I move into ping.FM and Twitter to microblog the quotidian, I am find it is increasingly harder for me to use blogging as a personal space. I am gradually leaving blogging to the realm of "big think" publishing that takes longer to write and produce and certainly longer to read and react to.

Yet today I am making an exception because there's another reason for my not writing as much as I would like to. That reason is pain.

I have been consumed by the pain that ails me and my body at any given time of the day for the last year and a half. And yes, I speak of my body as a separate entity because as someone who is her 40s, I am suffering from the realities of this twilight age where the youthfulness of my body doesn't mesh with the decomposing realities of a body that by evolutionary standards should have been turned to dust if not 5 years ago, then right about now.

Pain is nothing new in my blogging life. Actually, as I created this blog to break free from the shackles of a writing block that I had dragged into motherhood from my years as a PhD candidate, I found that the only thing I could rant about was pain. Here's an example from 2003 :


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Words to live by

Who could have imagined that in the United States, with its independent judiciary, thousands of men could be rounded up in the night -- many only because of their Muslim religion or foreign nationality -- without recourse to a trial, without even an acknowledgment that they had been arrested? Who could have dared to suggest that there would ever be "desaparecidos" in America? And there it was as well, torture being discussed as a legitimate option to protect a community in peril, and then being used in Guantanamo and Afghanistan, and even obscenely photographed in Iraq -- yes, there they were again, the depressing echoes of my Chile.

But worse perhaps than all of this was the erosion of the moral compass of America, the seeming indifference of the seeming majority to the suffering of others, the casual acceptance of "collateral damage" as an unquestioned consequence of the war on "terrorism," the demonization of an ubiquitous foe who had to be destroyed without second thoughts -- and often without first ones as well; without, in fact, any thoughtfulness at all. That was far more terrifying than the criminal attacks on New York and Washington: To realize that the Chile of strongman Augusto Pinochet was not that far away, not that difficult to imitate, that it was already hovering in the future and ready to materialize if we were not vigilant.


— Ariel Dorfman, Memories of Chile in the Midst of an American Presidential Campaign
TomDispatch - Tomgram: Ariel Dorfman on the struggle for America’s soul


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