Hey, Where’s My Vote?

November 22, 2009 by saloma88

In the November ’09 election, I changed my vote — for the first time — from Brooklyn, to upstate New York.  I have owned property in Columbia County since 2002, have invested in preserving a historic building in the town center, pay hefty taxes twice a year and with my husband run a business in our little New York hamlet, Ancram.  I knew my vote would have more weight where the total votes number in the three digits, not the five digits of my Brooklyn district.  For example, the contest for Town Supervisor was decisive – Art Bassin, 338, incumbent Tom Dias, 271.

Mine is one of the absentee ballots, maybe one now being challenged.

“After reviewing the 118 Ancram ballots,” writes the Town Supervisor-elect Bassin, “only 30 were allowed to vote.  85 were challenged, and 3 rejected for technical reasons.”  The County Republican Committee lawyer is challenging any second home owner, based on a computerized data base compiled by a private investigator hired by county Republicans. On November 30th, a judge will decide who gets to vote.

My vote may not count.

I have two homes, and I work in both of them.  As a movement teacher –Alexander Technique and yoga – I purchased the Ancram Opera House eight years ago so that I could teach classes, workshops and retreats in an interesting rural community upstate.  My husband and I have revitalized this old community center, bringing enlightened weekly movement classes and innovative programming that draws audience from three states.

And my vote doesn’t count?

Considering the investment of personal resources in my upstate property, I am astonished to learn that I may be disenfranchised.  When Republicans saw that Ancram’s absentee ballots would turn the Town Board completely blue, their lawyers challenged the votes’ legality. “Based on the machine counts and the 30 absentee ballots counted so far,” continues Bassin, “and with 85 absentee ballots still to be counted,” there is a four vote advantage for the incumbent Republican.  Everyone expects that those 85 votes would sweep in the Democratic challenger.

Someone is paying big bucks to cancel out my vote.

According to Columbia County Democrats, “once the opening of absentee and other paper ballots began, Republican representatives routinely challenged second home owners, students and other valid voters’ ballots, in an effort to win the five local races still left to be decided in the county.”  Who’s paying the bills?  No one knows. (http://columbiactynydemocrats.blogspot.com/

The Board of Elections said I could vote where I choose.

Let’s let democracy work.

Howard Fineman’s Hair

March 22, 2009 by saloma88

Howard Fineman’s Hair

by Joan Arnold

In these troubled, dynamic times, my husband Jim and I spend our evenings in the thrall of MSNBC. No more of Walter Cronkite’s trim, fatherly report to punctuate the evening. Now we have the night-long cascade of clips, news and opinion mocking those we hate and apprising us in detail of everything we fear. The talking heads talk, and our evening is covered.

Howard Fineman, as news junkies know, is a regular in Newsweek and on our nightly Keith-a-thon that, when desperate, can be viewed twice of an evening. Because we see Howard daily, we can track the progress of the silver roots that, day by day, are claiming their manifest destiny on his head. As we have closely tracked the youthification of Michael Bechloss – the receding hairline rescued by those cautious plugs, dazzling teeth and suspect tan – so can we study the sage-ification of Howard.

Before he braved the march of time with the brown we know well – the same dull brown we have seen on so many middle-aged heads, we assume that the flat brown relieves the wearer of the merciless daily evidence, the mirror reflection shouting that, unlike Benjamin Button, there’s no going back.

I find this nightly progress of gray refreshing. As a student of human movement and function, I find the vitality of that growth reassuring, its veracity refreshing, a chance to see the sun both rise and set on a single pate.

“A woman could never do that on TV,” said I to my couch mate. There is no woman I can think of in public life who would bear on her own head its true color. Between the facial surgery and insistence on the hues of youth framing and accentuating the pallor of age, watching commentators or political leaders, I always wonder: Would it be so devastating to see Nancy Pelosi or Dianne Feinstein’s real face and hair? Even on a sitcom like Everybody Loves Raymond, the men are dressed for home or work, the women for presentation – bejeweled and disguised for infantile America so we can avert our eyes from the inevitable: the earth surely will reclaim us. So what’s the big deal? The terrification of mortality can be soothed by a little cut ‘n color.

Howard is claiming the rights of his gender to be, in this liberated age, real. We can watch as the flat brown helmet surrenders to the march of sterling, with the variety, the subtlety, the shades of gray like the clarion call of truth. I feel the shining soul of Howard beaming through his silvery locks. Soon the false skin will have been shed. How will he look when, in a mere few days, those shrinking brown tips are gone? Will we miss them? Will we yearn for our chance to witness this intimate process on national TV?

Booms always mask many cases of embezzlement, said John Kenneth Galbraith in The Great Crash, which come to light during the bust. Like the cover ripped from Madoff, like the truth about Guantanamo, we have an ongoing metaphor for the ripping away of the cover of delusion to reveal the timeless reality beneath. We have the rare privilege to watch the slow emergence the slow, steady progress in Howard Fineman’s hair. The skin brightens, the false self dissipates, and we can all proceed from that deluding mud brown to reality’s complex, distinguished silvery gray. Howard, I salute you.

Howard -- Before

Howard -- Before

Howard -- After

Howard -- After

Blue’s a Cool Color

November 15, 2008 by saloma88


by Joan Arnold

As an observer of movement behavior through this past election season, I’ve carefully watched each candidates’ physicality — that universal language of the body that we all respond to, deep in the gut.  The debates were less about ideas, said David Brooks, more about demeanor.  John McCain’s was jagged, contracted and fearful, Barack Obama’s expansive, fluid and noble. We ultimately chose that noble expansion over the contraction of fear.

McCain was back on his heels, flung by his own stress response into erratic swings.  He was unable, as most candidates are, to keep his personality intact.  Everything we loved him for – opposing the Bush administration’s passion for torture, for one – he seemed to lose.  To McCain the candidate, everything was a fight; he reacted to each national convulsion impetuously.  In one debate photo, his back was arched, hands like claws, raised in alarm.  One of Obama’s stated aims was to keep his personality structure, and he did.  His posture was a vision of ease and calm.

“You notice first of all,” wrote Mark Danner in the New York Review of Books of his appearance at a Philadelphia rally, “the physical grace; he moves like an athlete much more than a politician . . . bursting up on to the stage, the lanky highly stylized movement, gathering everything into those constantly clapping hands . . .  nodding all the while, embracing each politician in turn, big full-bodied embraces, all of it done with unhindered pleasure of the body.”

What we see as grace is the perceptible evidence of efficiency and flow, the complex muscular interplay that comes from doing what’s required and no more.  Without excess effort, the body’s complex sequential movement proceeds.  It’s a beautiful thing to watch.  Before the eyes of soldiers in Kuwait and the world, Obama made that memorable basket.  His stride over the tarmac is buoyant, the head easily balanced, allowing for the fluid spring of the spine.

As his first decisions are made, Obama sustains his measured manner.  At one point Gail Collins wondered whether this ease simply signaled a low metabolism.  I see it in the terms of the mind/body method I teach, the Alexander  Technique.  F.M. Alexander created an amazing, accessible way to relieve tension and enhance performance.  As a young actor struggling to overcome his strangled, gasping elocution, what he found most effective was not introducing another action, but undoing the compression that caused it, a skill he called inhibition.  Unlike Freud’s use of the word, Alexander’s is in the language of the nervous system – inhibition and excitation. Rather than letting an overcharged psyche jolt us into impulsive decisions and mindless actions, we can evolve the capacity to pause, consider and choose a response. Alexander gradually realized that inhibition was the essence of his work. He developed an approach to stripping all tasks – simple or extraordinary – to their essence.

Alexander saw the relationship between head and neck – brain and body – as crucial to our entire operation.  If the head is “back and down” – chin lifted, base of the skull pressing down on the spine – that signals the startle pattern, the stress response.  The body floods with adrenalin, blood rushes from the internal organs to the limbs preparing to fight, flee or freeze.  These are great options for survival in the wild, but when this defensive posture becomes fixed, it causes tension or pain, clouds our thinking and narrows our view.  Over time, such compression reduces the torso’s volume, starving the organs of space and oxygen, pressing down on the spine and robbing this springy structure of its natural resiliency.  We become rigid, tense, defensive and reactive.

On a national level, we have seen the tragic result.  In the waning days of the administration, they are still trying to scare and rush us into one travesty after another.  Whether the Iraq War, the wiretapping of our domestic conversations or panicky drilling for oil, as a nation we have been flung from one blind reaction to another.  Now we have a model for another kind of decision-making from one whose genuine interest is in governing and whose fluid style seems anchored in both toughness and intelligence.  Now we can see that it is possible to function at the highest level with discipline and calm, the words we hear daily to describe this nascent administration.

On a personal level, the legions who suffer from chronic back and neck pain are unconsciously stuck, rigid.  But, as I see again and again in my own teaching, we can learn to inhibit this reaction.  Our higher selves can inform our limbic aspect that a traffic jam is not a charging lion.  We can notice when we tense and see it for what it is – over-the-top effort.  When we undo that defensive feedback loop, the heart stops pounding.  The adrenal response recedes, and we are more in command of ourselves, our decisions and our responses.  Rather than act from a raging turbulence of stress bio-chemicals, we can find inner calm, even in a storm of stimuli. Releasing the head into a more favorable forward pivot on the spine, we can restore the body’s natural buoyancy.  Coordination improves, breath eases, the mind clears and we are freer to respond to the situation at hand.

Obama is known to be imperturbable, a quality that, when they were kids, drove his sisters crazy.  His personal qualities have marked his organization.  This is in stark contrast to his predecessors.  We have watched one Democratic candidate after another cave under the klieg lights and the pressure.  Al Gore seemed to divide into five fuzzy images before our eyes as he shifted his ideas weekly, unable to hold his own among focus groups and zealous advisers.  Who can forget that agonizing public smooch, meant to prove that Tipper was still hot, still his?  John Kerry became ever more ponderous, weighed down by his vocabulary, his facts and his chin.  Hillary Clinton’s shrill, mocking, defensive tone vanished once her presidential campaign ended.  Suddenly, we could see who she really was.  John McCain’s charm and humor have returned; away from the unimaginable pressure of his goal and his handlers, the dented distortion of his personality has filled out once again.

Obama is an unflappable natural.  We saw him ease his own expectations as he aimed for that basket in Kuwait – “I might not make it the first time.”  We have seen him symbolically flick insults off his shoulder.  We have seen him indignant, but we have never seen him angry.  Head lightly balanced, voice impassioned, we have heard him make sense, expressing principles that bring us back to our country’s democratic ideals, that bring us forward toward a world barely imagined by our founding fathers.

We have chosen a leader who is poised and in calm command, not frozen in a defensive recoil.  Over the past eight years, we have been guided by fear into a time of contraction.  We will be suffering from the results for years to come.  But what we have seen is that people are most available for new options when they are in pain.  The current national emergency has pushed us toward a surprising openness to change.  Now that we have a leader who is not fixed but lightly poised, let’s hope our next phase is marked by expansion, resiliency and compassion.