CC2009: Here There Be Dragons

Note: A week ago today we completed our last deliberations concerning the Articles of Freedom, a title only agreed upon late Saturday afternoon, November 22, 2009, and held our closing ceremonies, including a signing ceremony for the Preamble, the Civic Action Statement, and the Pledge of Commitment. A week is not enough time to fully digest what we did there and what was accomplished, so this is only a beginning. The documents refered to below are yet to be published.

• Participating in the Continental Congress 2009 as a delegate was in equal measure intense and frustrating, powerful and ultimately affirming. The intensity was so great that during the Congress the outside world receded, and the everyday news took a backseat to our deliberations concerning more fundamental Constitutional issues. And since New Mexico first delegate Michael Lunnon and I drove there and back again, that bubble of intensity continued to a lesser extent until I arrived home on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Thus I have spent the past five days not only preparing and celebrating Thanksgiving, but also in an uneven and still incomplete struggle to re-engage with my previous everyday life. It has only just begun to dawn on me that the maps of my previous everyday life will have to be redrawn; that the terms of the re-engagement must expand to become a new normal. On the map of my life as I understand it, I have pushed the boundaries out into an unknown labeled "Here there be Dragons."
  
  
  Going into the Continental Congress I understood my role as delegate differently, perhaps, than some of the other delegates. I went knowing that the elections we held drew very few voters, and those chiefly from the New Mexico patriot community, those already awakened to the de facto demise of the Constitution of the United States over the past hundred years. Therefore, I understood that as a delegate I was not going to CC2009 to represent my state in a legislative sense, but rather to represent those who had voted for and/or financially supported our delegation, as well as to try to the best of my ability to bring to the Congress an understanding of Constitutional violations as they affect New Mexico, which like any state, has unique interests and concerns vis-a-vis the federal government. Therefore, I understood that at this juncture, my importance and the importance of the Congress was (and is) modest.
  
  
  This sense was of great benefit to me when the fear factor of taking on the system became real to the body of the Continental Congress. I understood that unless and until we build a mass movement, we will not be considered a real threat to anyone. Therefore, as the rumor mills got going among some of the more volatile delegates and their coalitions, I held firmly to the meaning of R3volution: we do this out of our love for liberty, not out of fear or anger.
  
  
  Secondly, I did not go to the Congress with any personal agenda that I intended to push. Rather, I went with the rationale and purpose for which this Continental Congress was called: to document to a candid world that petitions for redress of grievances had been made and gone unanswered; to document the ongoing violation of the Constitution in the instances that the petitions addressed; and to develop peaceful but firm civic responses to be taken upon the gathering of a mass movement in order to bring a rebellious servant government to heel. As I understood it, the first two items were the primary work of the Congress convened, whereas gathering a mass movement would be our job and the job of the various patriot alliances once the Articles of Freedom were written and signed.
  
  
  Even before the 2009 Continental Congress convened, however, it became apparent that there were individuals and factions who did not intend to come to achieve the agenda laid out by the We the People Foundation and We the People Congress, but that had their own agenda. Some were coming with the view that the Constitution was already null and void, and thus that the Petitions for Redress were futile and that the Congress should take an entirely different approach. Others were coming with the intention of getting the Congress to agree that the United States does in fact have an established religion, a certain form of Fundamentalist Christianity, and thus were pushing a Dominionist agenda. However, as a pre-Congress survey made clear, the vast majority of the delegates agreed with the agenda of the organizing body, We the People Foundation.
  
  
  As it became clear when the Congress actually convened, even though the majority of the delegates agreed on the purposes of the Congress, and upon the agenda adopted without change on the first day, there was plenty of difference about the outcomes and the civic actions that ought to be undertaken. Although many of us agreed with the groundwork already completed by We the People Foundation regarding the Petitions for Redress, there was a general sense apparent in the first deliberations on Thursday November 12 that the timeline and actions laid out by We the People were too conservative given the rapidity with which our constitutional republican form of government is now being dismantled.
  
  
  During the first week of the Congress, from Nov. 12 - Nov. 18, the body settled into an exacting routine in which we would hear expert testimony on one Petition for Redress first thing in the morning and another first thing in the afternoon. After each presentation, we would retire to the New Orleans Ballroom in order to deliberate upon the testimony and--at least according to the agenda--determine the answers to the following general questions:
  
  
  
• was the particular petition addressing a real violation of the Constitution?
• if so, what are particular Articles and/or amendments violated?
• was the petition unanswered?
• if so, what instructions should the people send to the federal government (Congress and Executive) to make them accountable? What instructions to the states for them to assert their sovereignty in the matter? What civic actions should be suggested to the the people for them to assert their power and sovereignty?

The first few days of deliberations were more difficult than I expected at the time. It became quickly apparent that the majority of delegates had very little experience with parliamentary process. It was also clear that a sizable minority of delegates had not received a thorough education in matters constitutional, and that many were hearing some of these petitions and their background for the first time. Even with these impediments, I thought that the body of the Congress would "gel" in a few days, and that we would see actual documents emerging, as everyone gained experience and understanding. And to a limited extent this did begin to happen, especially after sub-committees were established to write reports based upon the above general questions, which were made more specific to each Petition in the actual CC2009 Agenda .

But even with rules changes and an increased ability to use Robert's Rules of Order on the part of the delegations, I noticed that certain people tended to "camp out" at the microphone, and that there seemed to be determined core group(s) that used procedure to actually subvert the will of the body. Some of them seemed to be pushing specific agendas that were not that of the group, some seemed to be loose coalitions, but by far the most worrisome were a few individuals who seemed to foment division by espousing different sides of issues at different times, inconsistent to any personal or group agenda. This was different from what I observed of other groups and factions, which were consistent over time.

I believe that this one small group of infiltrators had the intention of discrediting CC2009 and used the passions of some of the other factions to try and make it happen. Additionally, and more unforgivably, this small faction appeared to use some delegates who had unstable personalities to achieve this purpose. In my opinion, this was the cause of much of the drama that occurred during the Congress.

That drama, along with the intensity of our days, and the immensity of what we were learning about the destruction of our liberty, created an edge to our deliberations. It heightened our passion to have the perfect solutions mapped out with respect to instructions to our servant government and to the States, and later when we began to write the Articles themselves, our recommendations for civic action for the people. The problem was that among 113 strong-minded individuals, there was nearly the same number of "perfect" solutions.

In order to deal with this, most of us tended toward finding like-minded individuals for discussion and support. I found Libertarians and libertarian-minded people whose understanding of the problem and whose principled solutions resonated with me, and from whom I could learn when my own analysis failed me. Thus my mind was engaged by the ideas of our President, Michael Badnarik, the anarcho-capitalist John Bush, and the scholar Jon Roland. I also had invigorating conversations with some of the young people who were just discovering libertarian ideas and the philosophy of Ayn Rand.

I did speak up at the Congress, but not being one to camp out on the microphone queue, I spent far more time listening, thinking and in private discussion. I also worked on several committees, and as the secretary for the General Welfare Clause committee, I made my proudest contribution word-smithing both the primary and the ancillary reports. I also got to the microphone a few times during open discussion, and once I helped stop a change of language amendment that would have made us look foolish by changing the name of the Department of Homeland Security. I was also among those of an impromptu coalition that got the Non-Initiation of Force Principle (NIP) into the final document.

I saw that among my fellow delegates there were many moments in which personal prejudices and individual agendas led to public or private statements inconsistent with their own avowed principles. Some of these were religious in nature, as were certain efforts to impose the dogmas of specific religions upon the Congress and the people of the United States in what I call the "Christian nation" claim. Others involved prejudices against certain groups of American citizens, such as the denial of private property rights to Native Americans on the reservation, in what I call the paternalistic "white man's burden" claim. There were others, and for my part, I know I did not think deeply enough about the Mann Amendment that was passed without debate at the end of the Congress when many delegates were out of the room. I concurred with Ron Mann that the language was suitably non-sectarian, but I did not enter into a dialogue about the vote with my delegation.

Despite the drama, the inconsistencies in principle, and the personal and factional agendas--that is, despite the very human nature of those of us assembled--the Congress did accomplish the intended goals: to develop a series of instructions to Congress, to the States, and recommendations to the people, with respect to Petitions for Redress of Grievances. They included those dealing with the First Amendment right to petition, the Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms, the War Powers clause, the misuse of the "General Welfare" clause and the right to private property. Even those reports and recommendations that seemed "obvious" to some of us met with strongly passionate debate that served to increase the understanding of many of us, and also heightened our commitment to liberty.

And at the last our trust and reliance upon the honor and the integrity of those who will be charged with the style and formatting of all of the documents made it possible for many of us to sign the Preamble and Pledge sections of the document. And since those who signed were present as each tiny pearl of agreement was wrested from contention, we all understand both the frailty and magnitude of what we accomplished.

I stood in the line to sign after the closing ceremony, laughing from the relief of finishing the document together, even though it was imperfect. I felt light, and thought: "This is what freedom feels like." And then, as I stood with the pen in my hand in front of the Zia Flag, I felt the gravity of the moment. Putting my hand to that Preamble and that Pledge, I suddenly knew, meant that my personal maps of reality would change. Here there be Dragons!

In the end, the magnitude of our accomplishment will depend upon our ability to persuade our fellow patriots--those who already passionately uphold the principles of liberty and who espouse the idea of unalienable rights derived from the Eternal Source of Liberty (however we conceive that Source. It will depend upon our engendering a mass movement of liberty among those who are ready to sign on to holding our servant government accountable to the founding principles of the United States as declared in our Declaration of Independence and as prescribed for government in the Constitution.

In the end, the frailty of what we have accomplished can only be obviated on the uncertain road ahead, the journey upon which will require us to expand our own personal maps across the parted seas where there be dragons, and which will lead us from the security of the fleshpots of Mitzrayim—the Hebrew word for Egypt that means the Narrow Places--and into the vast unknown lands that can, if we let them, develop in us principles that will lead us to trust a mixed multitude of ways for all of us to live liberty.

At this moment, as I stand on the edge of my known world, straining to see beyond the Dragons, I believe that those who endured the labors of the Continental Congress to the end have developed a strong and enduring bond. And this bond has the strength to be shared with all who love liberty and which will withstand the storms and squalls of the voyage yet to come.

Edited Once for Grammar and Content. EHL

Zichronot (Remembrance): You Shall Go Out in Joy

Rosh Hashanah 5770 began Friday at sundown.

This year the High Holy Days seemed to sneak up on me, and yet, as I have come to expect, they are still a roller coaster ride of events and emotions.

This year the New Year was bittersweet, our first without the Chemistry Geek Princess. I have not written of it, or of her upcoming wedding, because mixed in with my joy at seeing her coming up in the world is also the personal heartbreak of watching her choose to leave Judaism behind her. For me, being a Jew has a light side and a dark side and binds my personal universe together. Like all loves, it is exciting, frustrating, challenging, comforting, fulfilling. It is so inextricably part of who I am that I would be unrecognizeable to myself were I to wake up tomorrow not a Jew.

And yet somehow, in our topsy-turvy lives, I did not convey this to my daughter. She did not find it compelling. It is, we say, hard to be a Jew. And in this day and age, each person must choose Judaism for herself.

Perhaps there is a moment in the life of every mother when her eyes are opened and she wonders: How did this one grow beneath my heart, how did this child come forth from my body, and yet become so inexplicably foreign to me? How is my own child more unrecognizable to me than the child of a stranger, the young woman who stood to chant B'reshit (Creation), on this the second day of Rosh Hashanah, at the service in the mountains?

As Jews, we share the mythos that all of us stood at Sinai amidst the fire, the smoke, the awe and the blasts of the Shofar. Everyone who has the soul a Jew, whether she comes to it early or late; whether he comes to it through struggle, or by slipping into it as one slips into the world between one moment and the next at birth; everyone who is a Jew stood at Sinai, and in that moment out of time, accepted the covenant as an individual. This is our shared Ur-story, our shared myth and shared remembrance.

And today, as I sat under the Ponderosa Pines listening to our rabbi sing of remembering Sinai, and as I felt the heat and tasted the smoke, I understood that the Chemistry Geek Princess did not stand there with us in that time outside of time. In that mythic time she was elsewhere, partaking of a different story, choosing another way. For it is hard to be a Jew.

Since learning, during the week of Pesach, that the Chemistry Geek Princess was no longer crossing over the boundaries with us, I have not gone to a single Shabbat service until Erev Rosh Hashannah, Friday. For reasons that are complicated and inchoate, even now, I kept myself apart from the synagogue.

At the Erev Rosh Hashanah service I had an almost unmanagable desire to stand for Kaddish with those mourning a recent death. But the Chem Greek Princess is, thank goodness, very much alive. Every moment of life is a moment in which to rejoice.

Yesterday Rosh Hashanah morning services were good. Together we remembered the birth of the world, of life. We remembered Abraham's moment of insanity when he almost murdered Isaac, the child of laughter, and we remembered the urgent call to reason at the last moment. We stood for the wild wailing of the Shofar, calling us to majesty, to remembrance and to redemption. But the sermon, of which I will write more later, jarred that momentary sense of remembering, and by Kaddish, I was no longer there in that place.

This morning was different.

Joy greeting the light of day--Or Zaruach l'tzaddik . . . light is sown for the righteous.

Women dancing to the sound of drum and cymbals . . . kol han'shamah . . . the voice of everything that breathes . . . echoed the blue of the sky, the deep green of the pines.

A primal moment of Jewish soul.

The second Aliyah--the going up to make the blessing for the reading of Torah--called those who stood in need of healing; of the body, or of a breech, or of some great internal struggle in need of a tikkun, a repair, a return to shalem, to wholeness. I went up with others whose bodies or minds or spirits called them to go up. And, beside myself, I said the blessing. And as I stood there listening to a young woman chanting Torah, I saw the mirror of my daughter. What might have been, in a different universe. And I stood, tears running silently down my face as I listened to her proclaim in her sweet and confident voice of the goodness of the earth and those that dwell on it.

And so through the second blessing: . . . Blessed . . . for implanting life within us . . .

And so through the Mishebeyrach: . . . May the one who blessed our mothers and fathers bless these ones also with life and great wholeness and completeness.

And so through the reading of the Haftarah (Prophets): " . . . you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace. The mountains and hills shall burst out in song before you . . . They stand as an everlasting sign that all shall not perish."

A wedding. A simcha--a time of rejoicing. A commitment. A new family. A chance at more life. It should be, it is a time of joy.

And yet, here a breech, a loss. A daughter's choice, a mother's grief.

How to find the balance? The sense of shalem--of wholeness, of completeness, of peace?

"I remember you,

As we stood at the foot

of that mountain,

covered with soot

from all the fire and the smoky cloud . . ."*

And I remember watching you,

through the ashes and the flame,

I remember you . . . turning and walking away.

Was the sound and the heat too intense?

Did I not teach you your name?

Or was it all just too much,

And you turned away?**

A mother's work is to guide each child, to teach and to uphold her. But a child's work is to grow and becoming someone new and different. And the child will go where the parent wishes she would not. And that is the way of life.

And so I grieve. My crown is broken. A precious jewel is gone. There is a loss, a tear in the garment, a breech in the circle. I cannot know how this will become. And there is distance made by her, and made by me. Perhaps only the coming of the messiah can span it.

And still, she should go out in joy.

*Rabbi Joe Black, "I Remember You", from the album Sabbatical.

** Elisheva Levin, You, Walking Away.

Homeschooling Four Seasons: Reflections on the First Year's Journey

Fall 2006

From School-at-Home to Homeschool

When we moved into our mountain home last year, I began thinking seriously about homeschooling. We bought our house from homeschoolers and I was intrigued by the idea. I had threatened several times to pull N. out of school when we were having difficulty getting his needs met in the very large district in town. I frequently escaped the chaos of the moving process by browsing in the peace and quiet of the bookstore. There I began reading a copy of The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. I opened to the first chapter and read:

"The first day I taught my children at home, I cleaned up the playroom and set up three desks. I hung an American flag at the front of the room and led them in the Pledge of Allegiance. I was shaking with nervousness..." (Bauer and Wise, 2004, p. 3).

I was hooked. Jessie Bauer's story brought back to mind many of the questions and concerns I had pondered about my son's school education. It reminded me of how many times, as I worked in my classroom with gifted kids, I had said to myself, "This would be fun to do with N." But there was never time. I was spending a tremendous amount of energy just managing N.'s special education, his difficulties in the general education classroom, and the amazing amount of busy work he brought home--work that neurotypical kids could complete in half-an-hour but that took N. untold hours of frustration and tears.

As the start of the school year approached, I was accepted into the doctoral program in Special Education at UNM. I was thinking about an ambitious plan of study, one that would combine special education/gifted education with psychology and neuroscience. And I could not imagine how I would teach in the public schools, manage N.'s increasingly complicated Individualized Educational Plan, and pursue my passion--the education of gifted children with Autism Spectrum Disorders. I realized almost right away that teaching under those conditions would do my students no favors. When I resigned my teaching position, I realized that I had made space to more effectively manage N.'s education. And the more I thought about it, the more I believed that he would benefit from a home education. His disabilities would become simply differences, and in some cases, even strengths, outside the noise and confusion of a large school. And I would be able to provide the challenges his gifted mind required; the need for a gifted education that I could not get the public schools to acknowledge or meet.
I broached the idea with N., telling him that he should take some time to consider the option. He took about 30 seconds, saying, "I always hoped you could teach me like you teach those other kids."

So in August of 2006, on the cross-quarter day that traditionally began autumn in the old calendar, we began. Being a teacher, I could not imagine starting without all the "stuff." So I had put together a schedule and a curriculum for N.'s sixth grade year. Using TWTM, I made an ambitious schedule that would keep us busy six hours a day, four days a week.It was definitely school-at-home complete with lunch and recess breaks. We were definitely "getting a lot done," whatever that means. As we continued, I began to notice that I was getting that intense, nervous feeling in the gut when we got "behind" our schedule. And I began to wonder: what does "behind" mean in this context anyway? And N. began to chafe at a schedule planned down to the minute: 20 minutes for this, 15 for that. He began asking to spend more time in order to finish some activities that took more thought, and he wanted less of others. If he was in the middle of a chapter when "free reading" came to an end, could he continue to read to the end of it? Well--yes. That's the point of homeschooling, isn't it?

At six weeks in, we took a break for the Jewish High Holy Days, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and then, during the eight days of Sukkot (Festival of the Ingathering), we did a unit study that included study about the Sukkah, building the Sukkah, cooking, and harvest festivals across the world. When the holidays were over, we had reached our first turning point. I relaxed, N. relaxed, and we morphed from school-at-home to homeschooling. We still had plans, but they were made together and altered as we went. We still had a schedule--in that we did certain things on certain days, but the structure was looser and open to senrendipity. The boundaries of our days became praying the morning and evening services, reading aloud and Bar Mitzvah study, since the big day was fast approaching.

Winter 2006 - 2007

Unscheduling: Learning from Life

In the last weeks of November, we took a travel break to go to Illinois to spend Thanksgiving with family. There, I noticed that learning was taking place, but it was not formal learning in any sense. Rather, N. was experiencing the end of harvest time in a farming community, he learned about culture and climate, ran in the Turkey Trot, and spent time socializing with cousins.

When we returned home at the beginning of December, we reached our next bend in the road of our homeschooling journey. We began five intense weeks of study as Bar Mitzvah preparation swung into high gear. We had four meetings with the rabbi to get guidance on N.'s D'var Torah (literally, "words of Torah"--a sermon). N. had to perfect his Torah chanting skills and learn to chant his Haftarah (prophetic reading). During this time, N. took over the leading of the morning service each day. He also had to complete his service project. We had to send out invitations, plan meals and the celebration which required budgeting and finding information. We had decorations to think of, hotel reservations to make, all manner of preparations to attend to. During this time, I realize now, we had another intense session--the Bar Mitzvah Unit Study. And it was very unconventional and very successful, too! I really don't know how we would have managed all of this intensity if N. had been in school.

After the Bar Mitzvah Unit, which consumed all of December and into January (the Bar Mitzvah was on January 6th and we entertained relatives until the following weekend), we took another break. N. did start a homeschooling science class at Explora! Science Museum, and I started classes at the University, but other than that, we just sat back and caught our collective breath. For three weeks. And during that three weeks, I realized that we had "unschooled" the Bar Mitzvah. And that in the process, N. had made a great change in demeanor and maturity. He seemed to have taken a great step toward Jewish adulthood. And as I reflected on this, I began to "grok" how much more powerful process is than product.

Spring 2007

DeSchooling

As we moved into February, N. began to de-school himself. Other than his science class and
the Brain Engineering exercises that intrigued him so, he expressed no interest in traditional academics. Together, we determined that his religious education needed to be unschooled, too. After the powerful experience of his Bar Mitzvah, he wanted more control over his Jewish learning and he determined the setting.


We still had a schedule, of sorts. We had library day, we had Boy Scouts, we had Chabad classes. And I let N. lead me in terms of what we would read and discuss and do. He spent three weeks watching the movie Titanic, over and over. I began to realize that he was using it to figure out

sequencing and I supported this by suggesting that we make a Titanic PowerPoint. We began with the basic sequence of the sinking of the ship, and then I encouraged him to elaborate. What was the captain doing at each point? What were the characters doing? In this process, I was learning to let go of control, to let him lead, to become what Elizabeth Nielsen calls "a guide on the side." N. was determining the goal, and I was showing him what I know about how to get there.

And I began a second round of reading. Typical "gifted kid" that I am, books have always been my best friends when I need to know something. I read a good many books from the beginnings of the modern homeschooling movement. I read the books of John Holt, including the updated version of Teach Your Own. I read David and Micki Colfax's books, and I read Homeschooling Our Children, Unschooling Ourselves. That book made me realize that the journey of the year so far had been a process of unschooling myself. It was not just N. who was changing his relationship to learning. By necessity, it was me, too.

And I read And The Skylark Sings with Me. This book brought us the gift of The Wilderness Awareness School and the Kamana Home Study Program. As we moved into preparations for the Passover season, N. began the Kamana program. This included a unit of study that required research, writing for reflection, listening to stories, and reading. And while I was practicing the art making Pesach, N. was taking the nature awareness trail. Again, I was the "guide on the side", rather than the "sage on the stage." When N. finished Kamana I, I noticed again how much the process changed and matured him, how much he took responsibility for his own learning. And I noticed that his learning was very successful when it came from his passions.

Summer 2007

Unschooling

By May Day, the traditional beginning of summer in the old calendar, we had come to our "summer mode." Summer mode is that relaxed, let's-go-outside-and-let-our-hair-down way of life that had previously started when school let out in May. It is the time of the year when we all say, "thank goodness another school year is over and we can actually live our lives freely for awhile." We had never thought of learning in the summer, although, of course we have always done it.

We do have a summer curriculum. But it was not a scheduled set of lessons in the traditional disciplines. Rather, it was--and is--a series of summer projects and travels in which learning is going on continuously. It is not that it is effortless, it is that it is that the effort is expended in living and doing our lives. And N. made his own plans and presented them to us. And we added our own projects. In May and early June we planned and build steps in the side garden, and planned for and ordered carpet for the master suites and wood flooring for the house. N. went to Boy Scout Camp the last week of June and earned four merit badges. In July, we began the flooring project and N. traveled to Illinois where he spent time in the city and the country, learning all the time. Now, we are still doing projects, including the flooring with N.'s help. And we are preparing for N.'s Coyote Tracks Camp experience--the last part of his summer "curriculum."

We have come a fair distance on the path of homeschooling. And I have learned so much about my son and about myself. Oddly enough, the changes have not been abrupt or disorienting. They have come naturally from learning together as we live our lives. They have been the subject of reflection and discussion. As we look toward our second year of homeschooling, I see more changes coming. We have plans--but I know they are there for the changing. N. has determined his goals for math and science study for himself. And I know that I am along for the ride.

And as the traditional school year draws close, I do not feel the same sense of sadness that summer is also drawing to a close. That is because we will go on living our lives and learning as we go. I guess we are now unschoolers. Unschooling does not mean that there is no structure or plans. It is just that life happens to the plans and the structure, and living life and learning take precedence over the plans.

I am satisfied with where we are. And I am curious and excited about what's around the next bend in the road. And I love the joy of living our lives in the now.