Newgrange and Knowth- a 5000 year old mystery

  Today we headed North, about 45 minutes out of the city, to the sites of Newgrange and Knowth.  Both sites are apx. 5000 years old.  One more time- 5000 years old. As in the Stone Age. 

    The two sites are part of a larger complex around the Boyne River that includes 3 large passage mounds (Newgrange, Knowth, and Dowth) and more than 20 much smaller mounds.  Dowth isn't open to the public due to safety issues.  Some of the smaller ones haven't been excavated at all.  They are just dotted through the surrounding area in middle of working fields- a small hill of un-mown grass encircled by cows or sheared wheat.  

    Access to the mounds is strictly regulated.  You can't go by yourself, you must go on a guided tour and be bused in from the visitor's center.  Around 2000 people show up on a good day, and only 750 are allowed to go to the mounds themselves.  Needless to say, we made an effort to get there early, but since it was so cold, we didn't have to worry.

     We went to Knowth first.  I was sure that, even though it was the lesser known site, it would be more impressive.  In addition to the large mound, it has at least 18 satellite mounds and many decorated stones.  And it was pretty amazing.  

    Knowth was in use for thousands of years, first as a Neolithic burial mound and likely ritual mound.  Its passages probably line up so that the sun shines in during the equinoxes. (don't ask about the "probably.")   It is suspected that the original builders were attempting to create a permanent home for the ancestor spirits, or gods, or both, but for obvious reasons no-one can be sure.  We were allowed inside the mound, but only into a room off to the side, that had been constructed during excavation.  I took the photo to the left through a gate while going past.  It's of the passage leading into the burial chamber.  It's the same passage as the first photo in this post, but some kid used his camera with an enormous flash while I took this one.  It's rather less evocative but more detailed, so I'm including it.

    What was most arresting for me at Knowth was the megalithic art work on the stones surrounding the mound.  No-one knows for sure what it means, but I just can't get over the fact that it was chiseled into those stones 5000 years ago, by people honoring some movement of the spirit that we will probably never know.

 Most of the stone in the mounds was brought in, often from considerable distance.  It would have taken 80 men 4 days to haul each of the larger stones up from the river, and that doesn't include the time collecting it and floating it up the river.  They estimate it would have taken two generations to build each of the larger mounds.  

What kind of vision were they fulfilling?  While UU's are big on "live the questions," I myself have never been particularly gifted in that regard.  I really, really, really want to know.

    And the thing is, they rush you through the site.  We had an hour total there, about 10 min. of which was movement to and from the bus and 30 min of which was a guided tour.  Not too much time to "sit with the mystery," as it were.

So I left curious and awe-inspired but not feeling overly....moved.

    After a quick pop back to the visitor's center (which is beautifully done, by the way), we headed off for a tour of Newgrange.

    Newgrange is a larger mound than Knowth and in better shape.  It's famous for its white front wall, which is an archeologist's best guess at how it would have looked originally.  The stone is, in fact, the original stone, but it had all fallen by modern times.  He used "reverse engineering" to construct the wall. (Greg, please explain to me!)  

Newgrange also has the most famous decorated stone of all the sites- its doorway stone. 

    The triple spiral is repeated inside and is the best known of all the patterns.  But again, what it means is anyone's guess- a map of the land, sky, spirit world.....

    We were allowed to go inside the mound in small groups, this time all the way to the burial chamber.  And this time, my breath caught as we eased in through the very narrow passage way and into the small inner chamber.  Moving deeper and deeper into the mound, squeezing and ducking to get through, was a very visceral experience.  And everything in the chamber was untouched (except by Victorian era graffiti artists, and the recent addition of small, discrete electric lights and a few safety barriers).  The roof, constructed of enormous stones layered upon each other and gradually stepping inward, was as it was 5000 years ago.  The burial stones, gently shaped to hold a body, were where they had always been.  Those strange symbols, carved with mysterious and powerful intent, were still there, calling out to the world of the spirit.

For just a moment, they turned off the power and a small beam of light (from the guide) crept across the floor, as it does on the winter solstice.

Words are generally the worst medium to convey religious experience, so I'll just say that for a brief moment, I felt connected with that mystery.

And it was almost enough.

St. Patrick's Cathedral and Dubh Linn: The Dark Pool

Today we headed into town with the goal of seeing St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Christ Church Cathedral, and the Book of Kells.  We did manage one of the three, but happened upon a few unexpected extras that more than made up for the rest.

    First, we wandered down to St. Patrick's.  The cathedral is located on the site where St. Patrick (he of the snakes and St. Patrick's Day) supposedly baptized converts (aka "the snakes," according to modern pagan teachings) at a well that once existed there.  Some form of church has existed at the site since the 5th century.  

Just sit with that one for a minute.

    St. Patrick has no mystical connotations for me- he is, simply (albeit powerfully), a cleric from long ago who changed the face of a country. But he did actually exist.  He really did baptize people here 1500 years ago.  They dug up a slab about 150 years ago that covered what they believe was the well.  The well. Hands from the 5th century may very well have touched it, likely with deepest reverence, as they gave it shape for its holy purpose.

    I'll tell you what, viewing that slab was more powerful for me than gazing at all the ornate marble and granite and stained glass.

    But the marble and granite and stained glass were still pretty spectacular.  The shot of the nave is kind of compulsory since it really is impressive, especially if you consider that they didn't have modern construction equipement.  

    But I was more taken with the attention to even the smallest details.  The tile on the floor, for example, was beautiful and fascinating by turns.

    It's hard to know exactly which parts of the church were built when.  The original wooden structure was built in the 5th century.  A stone church replaced it in 1191.  Most of today's building was constructed in the 13th century, but then it has been repaired and expanded on an ongoing basis since then.  

    The stained glass windows were commissioned over an extended period of time.  One of the sons of the founder of Guinness (that family being true benefactors to the city over the years) commissioned one window, showcasing in true fashion the humor of the Irish.  It is the scene from the gospels of the woman at the well, and the inscription reads, " I was thirsty and ye gave me drink."  I couldn't find it to take a photo- there is a slim possibility that window is at Christ Church.  I'll let you know.  But here's a photo of some of the truly magnificent stained glass that lit the sanctuary.

   Here is one last photo from the Cathedral.  It's Jonathan Swift's epitaph.  For those of you who only know him as the author of Gulliver's Travels, join the club.  (and did you know that book was "obviously an anti-whig allegory"  as one guide book said?  I didn't either.)  He was also the dean of the cathedral for many years and while crusty with most, a great friend to the poor.  His epitaph reads in part: "Here lies the body of Jonathan Swift...where fierce indignation can no longer rend his heart."  It resonated with me, and I'm guessing it resonates with many others who pay attention to the world around them.  No, I'm not getting angrier as I get older.

Ok, yes I am.

Oh my God, am I going to be one of those old ladies who give dirty looks to the durned kids for being so rude, hitting people with my cane when they misbehave, and with utter disregard for appropriateness, "tell it like I see it" as they say?  If I ever become such a person, I am relying on you, my nearest and dearest, to let me know.

Of course, I'll probably just hit you with my cane for your efforts.

    We left St. Patrick's, started for Christ Church, had several false successes as we realized there are really quite a lot of old, imposing looking churches in Dublin, finally found Christ Church, realized we were burnt out on Cathedrals for the day, and started home.  On the walk, Michael, Kaia, and Tessa were absolutely beyond the pale.  

No really, they were beyond the Pale.  Turns out that expression derives from the original walls of the city, called The Pale, as established by the British. Everything within those walls was civilized, everything beyond the Pale was uncivilized territory.  There they stand, outside a remanent of the original wall.

Heathens.

    We really did intend to just go home, but on the way we accidentally stumbled into a little paradise.  We were trying to find a short cut onto the next road, but came upon a snake fountain.  I had a vague recollection that I'd seen it in some book and that it marked something important, but beyond that I had no idea where we were. (That's Dublin Castle behind it, fyi. It's right in the middle of the city)

    But we realized we were in an beautiful little walled in park.  Take a close look at the grass.  You may be able to tell that running through it all is a traditional Celtic pattern- snakes twined around each other, made out of bricks.  You can see two of their heads near the bottom of the photo.

    When we got back I looked up the snake fountain.  I was right- it was important!  The city of Dublin gets its name from the Gaelic "Dubh Linn," which means "dark pool."  The park is the site of the original dark pool, from which the name derives.  I'm not sure why there was a snake theme.  I know it is historically a symbol of rebirth, or the endless cycle of life, but don't know if that was the intention here.

    A quick aside, abutting the park was another unexpected treasure- the Chester Beatty library, housing an enormous collection of ancient manuscripts (he donated over 66,000).  It was free to get in, and contains manuscripts that certainly equal the Book of Kells in beauty.  But it also has glorious Quar'ans, Oriental art work, and thousands of other Medieval manuscripts.  We wen't in about 25 minutes before it closed, but we'll be back.  Even Kai and Tess were entranced. 

    Off the back of the garden was a memorial garden dedicated to the Garda (Irish police) who have fallen in service.  Having seen many memorial gardens, I think this one was one of the loveliest and richest in meaning.  I hesitated to take a photo, but as someone who is regularly involved with commemorating loss, I didn't want to forget it.

    I'm paraphrasing their explanation now:  The garden is based on the idea of a tree, cut down before its time.  The rings of varying width on the ground represent the rings on the stump of a tree, each indicating a year of life. The stone wall toward the back, pierced with a shard of glass, represents the surprising fragility of life.  The black and white stone sculpture to the left in the park is dedicated to those who have fallen.  And the glass sculpture to the right of the park is dedicated to those left behind, symbolizing their sudden loss and grief.  Above is a larger photo of the glass sculpture.  All around the edges of the garden are inscribed the name of the fallen.  I appreciated that the city had taken such care in creating a place that would not only have meaning for loved ones left behind but also serve as a reminder to everyone else of the risk and cost of such work.  

    We left the garden and headed home, again, stopping on the way for some take out Indian food, which was some of the best I've had.  While we waited....and waited, and waited, I took Tessa and Kaia out to distract them by looking at the flowers.

So here is one last photo for tonight, of them in front of the ubiquitous (but still lovely!) petunias.

Carrickfergus Castle, and helloooooooo Dublin!

    Because Kaia and Tess wouldn't forgive me if I left out any castles, I want to mention that before we arrived in Dublin last night, we made a stop at Carrickfergus Castle, in Northern Ireland.  "Carrickfergus" means "Rock of Fergus."  (and remember, Carrick-a-Rede means "Rock in the road."  Who can guess what "Carrick" means in Gaelic?)  Apparently, King Fergus sailed for Ireland, having heard of a fresh water spring in the rock that would cure all diseases- handy, since he had leprosy.  Alas for him, his ship sank at sea.   But there really was a spring,  later chiseled into a well.  We'll never know if it would have cured leprosy, but the well did help those trapped in the Keep of the castle during various sieges survive.  

Here's a photo of the well.  Oh sure, I'll post a picture of a plastic disc you can't see through.  The well really is under there, though, so use your imagination!

   I don't have a photo of the castle itself. It was cold and raining outside, so we didn't wander the grounds much. I was going to take a picture when we left, but I was so hungry I practically ran out of the castle in desperate search for food other than my own hands, which were beginning to look very tasty.

    Speaking of eating....

In order to get to Dublin, we were going to drop off the car we'd been using with David's parents, who would then drive us to the bus station in Belfast.  But Betty and Tom had bigger plans.  They were going to take us up to Belfast Castle.  But since it was so cold out, they settled on simply serving us lunch.  And by lunch I mean: stuffed chicken, slices of pork, vegetable quiche, smoked mackerel, wheaten bread, scones, homemade chips (fries), salad, apple crumble with custard, ice cream with jello for the girls, chocolate covered cookies, and endless amounts of tea, all along with lovely, cheerful conversation.  We could have spent much longer there if we hadn't had to hurry out to catch the bus.  Betty and Tom did the reputation of Irish hospitality very, very proud!  

    We arrived in Dublin fairly late and made our way to our second house of the trip, this one on the outskirts of the city.  The house is fantastic.  Lots of toys, books, and dress-ups for the girls, lots of cookbooks, books of Celtic fairy tales, and endless Irish guide books for me, and space to practice and wireless internet for Michael.  It's within walking distance of the tram, so it will be very easy to  get downtown.  

  We explored Dublin itself today, both on foot and on a "hop-on hop-off" tour bus.  And it was....crowded.  And loud.  And pretty much like any other city- full of shops, restaurants, people, some pretty buildings, more shops, more people, and an occasional park.

    Oh, poor Dublin.  It doesn't deserve to be talked about like that.  It's a city rich with history and culture.  It's just that we went from this:

To this:

Tell me you wouldn't resent it, too.

Sigh.

Hi.  My name is Jodi.  I've lived in a rural state for 11 years and just spent the last two weeks in one of the remotest parts of Ireland (Antrim, as in County Antrim, which includes the part of the North where we were staying, by the way, translates as "Isolated Place.")

    But I'm not the only one who was less than enthralled with the city. 

Okay, okay, okay.

I'm sure Dublin will win me over in the end.  And Michael is completely in his element, and he does deserve a turn, for goodness sake!

But the first sunny day, we're heading out of town and down to Newgrange.

Just for the record.

Our insanely perfect last night in Northern Ireland

  Well, after I said yesterday was going to be an uneventful day, we had the most ridiculously, supremely perfect last night in Northern Ireland imaginable.  

    First we went to Bushmills Inn, our favorite local pub (indication of nester personality- a favorite pub in under 2 weeks) for one last pint of Guinness and one last cocoa for the girls.  We snuggled into one of the little rooms, the girls pulled out their travel books to work on, and Michael and I downed the black stuff.

    We had forgotten that it was Saturday, so it was an excellent surprise when we suddenly heard live, traditional music from the other room.  We'd only heard live music once so far, so it seemed the perfect cap on our two weeks up here. 

We listened for a while, but couldn't stay forever.  We had a parade to get to.  Yep, that's right- a parade.  Turns out that every year on the 16th, all of the local bands (around 45) put on a parade, beginning at around 8:30.  (Another house swapping plus- friendly neighbors give you the local scoop when they pass you on the walk).  We missed the beginning of it, listening as we were, to the live music in the pub.  But we caught the last half hour or so.  And as band after band marched by, what should suddenly appear arching over the bands?  A rainbow, which just got bigger and bigger,and brighter and brighter, until it was essentially a double rainbow.  Which really seemed like the perfect cap on our two weeks here in the North. 

    Unfortunately, it was the one time I didn't have my camera.  But noticing two guys taking photos with what looked like a smart phone behind me, I tucked away my introversion, put on my pretend extrovert pants, marched over, and asked if they would email me a copy.  They were extremely friendly and complied. The above picture is the result.  

    I also want to really briefly mention the people in the marching bands themselves- mostly men, with a few women scattered through.  They were covered in tattoos, some of the women had blue or green hair, they were young, old, and everything in between.  And everyone came out to watch this parade, not just older folks and parents with their kids.  The guy who shot the photo for me had come from England to see the bands (though he had grown up here).  And it occurred to me- there was at least a pretty good chance that in Ireland, being in a marching band is kind of...badass.

        As we were walking back to the house, Michael mentioned it had probably been a pretty sunset.  Then it struck me- I'd  wanted to see Dunluce Castle at sunset since we arrived because it was supposed to be amazing.  The girls were always in bed, though, since the sun sets around 10:30 here.  But we were still up!!  So we literally ran back to the house, hopped in the car, and flew down the road to Dunluce.  We made it just after sunset, and it was absolutely beautiful. 

    I knew that now, we had had the perfect cap to our two weeks.

    But then we pulled out of the parking lot, facing the field behind us for the first time,.  And there we saw, hanging large and luminous just above the horizon, the moon, in a wide open sky.  And it was completely full.

And that was the perfect cap on two unforgettable weeks in Northern Ireland.

Tomorrow I'll write about Carrickfergus castle, David's parents, and our arrival in Dublin.  

For fairy lovers

   Today was another low key day- the weather was bleak and we needed to get ready to leave Bushmills and head down to Dublin, anyway.  Plus, Kaia and Tessa's friend reappeared, and they've been playing with her, along with the 2 boys next door, all day.  So, the rest of this post will have nothing to do with today- I'm just going to write up the trip through Breen Oakwood I promised days ago.  

Non-fairy lovers, depart!  

Fairy lovers, I'm including the pictures from last time as well as new ones.  I'm writing it the way I would re-tell our day to Kaia and Tessa.  I'll include the caveat again that the ancient Irish who named the wood had a different understanding of the realm of fairy altogether.  This is our completely Americanized version!

We were very excited to go to Breen Oakwood.  Breen means "Fairy Palace" in Gaelic, which is the language they spoke in Ireland a long, long time ago (and some speak it now).  So we knew we needed to keep a lookout for any sign of fairies!

   It was really hard to find, with only a sign by the road telling us where the wood was-  maybe the fairies only wanted visits from people who really wanted to see them.

    When we started walking, we saw this gate, and wondered if marked the entrance to the place where the world of fairy and the world of people were woven together.  There aren't too many places like that in the world.  Could this be one of them?

    We climbed through the gate and walked down the road.  Pretty soon, the road ended and we turned onto a grass path.  We kept walking, wondering what we would see.  Eventually, we came to this gate.  We were sure we were getting closer to the land of fairy.

    But the gate was locked!  How could we get through?  Then we saw that there were little steps built into the wall, so we knew the fairies wouldn't mind if we went on.  You can see Kaia climbing over in the photo.

    On the other side of the gate, the path was surrounded by beautiful flowers and tall grass.  There wasn't anyone else around.   Only those who really, really wanted to step into the land of the fairies would have made it this far.  We knew we had to be almost there.

    Finally we saw this gate, almost hidden by the trees. Can you see it? Maybe it was usually hidden from sight by the magic of the fairies, but they revealed it to us.  We walked down the path.  Was this it? The final gate?  Maybe after this, we'd be in the land of the fairies.

    Sure enough, on the other side, the woods began.  We walked down a small path, surrounded on all sides by old, magic filled trees.

    While we were walking, we saw a little lake filled with lily pads, buttercups along the side of the path, and small leaves, which Tessa realized the fairies used to write lists on.

Suddenly, we saw it- a fairy house!  Fairies living in Breen Oakwood, of course, don't need to build their houses.  They just look around the wood until they find a beautiful spot where they will also be safe.  If you look closely, you can see that the grass is hanging over an opening.  Living in there, the fairies would never get rained on, unless they wanted to!

    And here was another fairy house!  Can you see how the ferns are growing right next to the entrance, like a fairy garden? 

    We kept walking down the path, through the fairy wood.  We could feel the magic all around us.

    We passed a stream, where the fairies sailed.  Here are Kai and Tess, watching the water flowing.

    We also saw a bench, where fairies could rest when they were tired.

    Then Kaia noticed this spot, where the fairies come to watch the solstice, which is the longest day of the year.  You can tell it's the solstice watching spot by the way the water shines.  See the rock seats in the stream?

    Tessa spotted this fairy shop, hidden under the tree.  If you look closely, you might be able to see that the leaves are actually fairy dresses.

    Then we saw this waterfall.  Fairies have lots of work to do, but they like to have fun, too!  They swim in this stream, slide down the branch, and jump over the waterfall.  They have to take their wings off before they do any of that, though, since otherwise they'd get wet and wouldn't be able to fly.

If it's raining really hard, and the fairies aren't in their homes, they go to this hill.  See how it's covered with brachen (ferms)?  It keeps the rain off them.

    We'd had a magical time in the fairy wood, but we could tell that it was time for us to go.  The fairies had shown us some of their secrets, but now they needed the wood to themselves.

    So we sang the fairies songs of thanks into buttercups and left Breen Oakwood.

Maybe we'll be able to visit the land of fairy again in our dreams.

The Giant's Causeway and Marching Day Part II: The Granny Rock and riots in Belfast

    As penance for dragging poor Kaia and Tessa around for hours at a time in the car in Donegal, today we had a low key, stay near home kind of day.  We'd hoped they would be able to play with the good friend they made here, but we're pretty sure she's gone for the weekend.  We'll all be sorry if they don't get to see her again.  It's amazing how quickly kids can become fast friends.  

    Neighborhood play off the table, we headed back to the Giant's Causeway for just a while.  Kaia had been asking to go back,  and it gave us a chance to find the Wishing Chair and me a chance to take a photo of the Granny Stone, so I could tell you the story.  

First, the chair.

      Almost every bit of information we read about the Giant's Causeway included some mention of the Wishing Chair.  People say that if you sit in the chair and make a wish, it will come true.  But while the story was invariably accompanied by a photo of some happy child sitting in the chair, nowhere was there any indication of where the chair might be at this enormous site full of rock formations that essentially all look the same.  I had promised Kai and Tess we'd go to the chair and make a wish, but when we got to the main section I realized there were around a thousand sections of rock that looked like a chair.  I'm pretty sure I'm not exaggerating too much, there.  So I picked a spot that I thought could have been the Wishing Chair, we climbed on up, and wished away.   

    

It occurred to me as Kai and I were getting ready to climb another section that the ranger nearby might know where the chair was.  Sure enough he did.  It was not the chair where we'd done our wishing.   So I called Michael and Tess over, and Kaia and Tess climbed into the official Wishing Chair, and they made their wishes over again.  Not for nothing, but I think my choice for a wishing chair is much more interesting.

    We also, from the Wishing Chair, had a great view of the Granny Rock. Here is Granny's tragic tale:

  You remember, I'm sure, the giant Finn McCool.  Well, Finn had a granny who lived with him, and she did like her drink!  Every night she'd come home, drunk and banging around, making all kinds of racket.  She woke poor Finn up from his sleep every night.  Finally, fed up with being woken over and over, Finn roared at his granny, "If you wake me up one more night, I'll turn you to stone!!"  The very next night, Granny went out and had herself a few drinks and came back, banging around, sure enough waking up Finn.  

    And if you look near the top left of the hillside in the photo below, you can see her- an old woman wrapped in a cloak frozen in place as she stumbles her way up- a warning to us all, that, as the guide explained to us, "if you have too much to drink, you're like to get stoned."

Groan.

    I admit I'm not sure how old the legend of the Granny Sone is.  The last tag might be a recent addition to an older tale, or maybe it's all a more recent creation.  But it's a great story, nevertheless!

    On a less humorous note, we got an email last night from our swap family, mentioning that he was sorry we were up here during the violence in Belfast and Derry.  I had no idea what he was talking about- with limited internet (we bought air time for our stay), no phone, and no newspaper, we are pretty cut off from what's going on around us.  So I looked it up on line, and discovered that, on the eve of Marching Day, there had been a riot in Belfast, with about 200 protesters throwing petrol bombs, etc.  Violence continued into the next day, in the area around Falls Road (which is where we took the photos of the murals).  There was also a riot in Derry, and violence in Ballymena.  Here are a couple links to articles about the Belfast riot:

http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/local-national/northern-ireland/police-officers-torched-and-targeted-with-lasers-in-belfast-riot-rampage-16022598.html

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2011/jul/13/belfast-riots-nigel-dodds-blames-militant-republicans

Pretty horrible.

    I'm wary of commenting on something I understand at such a superficial level, but it did set me to thinking about the nature of cycles of violence in general.  So here are some thoughts (coherence alert- they're rambling thoughts.  It's 2 am here):

    It seems really clear that the vast, vast majority of people here do not support the use of violence.  There were pleas from all sides before Marching Day for a peaceful event.  And judging by the outraged response here to the riots, again from all sides, lots of people have worked really, really hard at the peace process and are committed to seeing it through.  It doesn't seem likely to me that the riots are going to change their minds.  

    But if you read enough articles, you can see how some people have just barely relaxed into peace- still quick to make assumptions about the intentions of those on the "other" side.  It's this group I wonder about in the face of something like the riots.  How much does it take to tip people out of being tentatively committed to peace and into tentatively being committed to stepping into a new cycle of violence?

    Police were specifically targeted in Belfast.  Now they have to decide- do they allow themselves to be carried back into that cycle and begin again to view Nationalists and Catholics as a potential threat?  And I don't know ( I mean I really don't know) how much of that is even a conscious choice.  Aren't we wired to learn from experience and change our behavior accordingly?  We're rational creatures and can over-ride our knee-jerk (or learned) responses...except when we can't.

    And how many Catholics will now assume that the police will be harsher with them in retaliation, and will therefore see that behavior (and react accordingly) regardless of whether or not it was there? I read an article that quoted a Catholic Priest who was questioning why the police used a water cannon on people.  "Regular people are wondering that," he said.  He acknowledged that bricks were being thrown, but still didn't understand police response.  Ah, Father?  They were throwing bombs along with those bricks.  And also shooting cops.   But I believe absolutely that people are voicing distrust of police. 

    And of course, if you read the comments to the articles, there are those few people who think the cops should be shooting protestors to kill, or at least be given license to break a lot of bones. Ok, I admit I found that strangely heartening, because I'd always assumed, based on comments on US news stories, that American culture was bottoming out. But here I see it's not the US, it's human nature for some.

    Anyway,  it's infuriating to me that such a small group of people- and it was truly a small group of people- have even the possibility of such power, but it's often  the way.  

    I'm too tired to include a lengthy discourse on the good news here, about how we do the work anyway, and slowly we do in fact remake the world into a place of greater peace and justice.  Suffice it to say that I believe it's true, and I think that most of the folks living in this beautiful place believe it, too.