Is it Bigotry?

I've been perusing my saved Word files, specifically the ones that center on misogyny, particularly that of Islam...and not just ancient or modern cultural misogyny, but pointed belief in the practice of it in Islam's holy book.

Having read the Quran from cover to cover, I can't bring myself to see Islam as just another innocent spiritual religion or faith. I've been accused of religious prejudice because of my complaints concerning Islam's attitude toward and treatment of women, but I see my criticisms as dissent from the Quran's teachings against women clearly stated in all versions of this book.

Dissent is not necessarily prejudice. It is not individual Muslims whom I abhor; it is the rules and proclamations of their prophet. I would welcome with open arms a reform of Islam. But it needs to come from the top down. While there are still Imams who describe unveiled women as "meat" in the eyes of men, while the Wahabis insist on following and applying to the letter the literal words of a 7th century renegade, there will be no change in the attitudes of this patriachical religion, and women will continue to be marginalized, brutalized, demeaned, neglected, shunted aside, disdained and given countless injustices by those who follow the Quran, word for word.

What is so disheartening is the refusal of most Muslims to analyze internally their own religious practices and the role of the Quran in those.

The unexamined life is worthless.

N.

Outside, Inside

The house is quiet. Cody, my Aussie dog, is still outside, not wanting to come back into the warm house, which is unusual for him, considering how Velcro he is with us.

I'm worried about him. He's thirteen years old and very neurotic...or very demented. We've tried just about everything to calm him, but nothing seems to work. Medications all show signs of side effects with him, making him even more difficult to live with. His hind quarters tremble; he runs off in strange jerking spurts of fearful energy, and then suddenly stops; he stands in one place, staring into the distance, barking in a rhythmic pattern for literally hours at a time; he urinates in these anxious moments, and often even seems fearful of his food at feeding times.

But when we medicate him, the symptoms are exacerbated, so we have been trying to placate him, calm him, soothe him, stroke him. We feed him by slow handfuls, or by forkfuls. We massage him, take him for careful walks to protect his arthritic joints, offer him his toys and treats, and talk to him, though he is almost totally deaf. Nothing seems to relieve his neurosis or dementia.

My dogs have always been a vital part of my life. I've owned them since I was five years old, and have never been without one. I have to admit it, but I prefer them over people. Late in my life I now see people as treacherous, unpredictable and deceitful. I know that my dog loves me unconditionally, eternally, and without qualifications, yet other than my three children and their partners, there are no humans out there in whom I hold much trust or admiration.

My past has of course played a large role in my present cynicism, but that's another story for another day.

Today, I am in a fairly "up" mood, even though my worries about my Cody-dog niggle at me constantly. I spent a great morning yesterday at my daughter's house, having been invited for breakfast and an exchange of home-canned foods: my apple butter for her orange marmalade. My sweet son-in-law cooked me a huge meal of poached eggs, large slabs of ham, English muffins and coffee, while my daughter fixed grits, red-eye gravy and ice-cold freshly squeezed orange juice.

I had driven an hour to their home in my poorly-heated car, my hands and feet fairly frozen off by the time I arrived, even though I was armed with insulated underwear, thick sweat pants, a heavy fisherman's sweater, a warm parka , and fleece-lined leather gloves. There is something wrong with a hose in my car, apparently...according to my son who is my mechanical, technological, plumbing and carpentry repairman.

I'm sick of having a driver's side window and air-conditioning and a heater that haven't worked in a couple of years. There is always something that needs fixing on my car,it seems...which is par for the course, I guess, with a more-than-ten years old car.

Now that I've vented a bit, I hear Cody barking in the distance. I'm off to round him up from wherever he is sounding off.

I just learned that my original Blog at another website has bitten the dust. It has been years since I posted to it, so what do I expect? Still...it's hard to know - and very puzzling - that it is now somewhere out there in the internet ether, maybe rotating slowly toward Venus.

But, so be it. Now will be a new beginning. So today is the first day of the rest of my blog life.

I have just spent two hours playing The Sims 2 game. I feel like a total klutz at the controls. Trying to contruct a simple box of a house is like remodeling my own home. The air has been blue at times.

I'm wondering whether I should write my deepest concerns, thoughts, interests on here...or whether I should choose not to become that vulnerable and naked to the world.

My nephew would want me to write "without passion", as he puts it, a request that leaves me speechless...literally. How does someone whose entire life configuration contains 99 % passion and only 1% of plain, uncolored, cold facts attempt such a bland, mechanical, flat, blah, unremarkable relating?

However, even though I cannot write dispassionately, I do recognize that I am guilty of being a paraphrastic writer, also. i will attempt to shave that down a bit as I post... I hope.

Today I am preparing to attend a dinner with one of my nephews and his family and a few other friends, so I don't have much time to discuss issues that are on my mind right at this moment. But tomorrow's another day (said Scarlet).

Nance