Call of the Heart

Posted on October 15, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

Morals and values are a part of the behavioral aspect of a person. Both are correlated to each other. Moral is a system of beliefs that is taught for deciding good or bad whereas values are personal beliefs or something that comes from within. These are emotionally related for deciding right or wrong. Moral is a motivation or a key for leading a “good” life in the “right” direction whereas value is absorbed within a person. It can be good or bad depending on the person’s choice. I refer to it as “a call of the heart.”

It was 1998 and I was driving my daughter and son to school. As always, we talked of current events and at the time every newsfeed was covering the Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky scandal. I was as clear in my thoughts then as I am now. Clinton was President, and the specifics of his behavior went against my anticipated and expected behavior of a president. I argued against the European claim and those of others that infidelity and such behavior were common practice and why was America making such a fuss over what most men do?  Well, we were making such a fuss, at least I was, because this was not the example of acceptable behavior I wanted to set for my children. Absolutely not! What would I be teaching my son and daughter about values and ethics of responsibility if I were to accept or excuse such behavior? As a woman, as a mother, as an Armenian, as an American, I wanted to stand tall in my principles, and instill in my children the deep seated moral driven value of understanding the consequences of decisions and actions and answers to their behavior. An act repeated more than once is neither accident nor mistake but a purposeful intent–“a call of the heart.”

It is 2016 and news of Trump and his bigotry, his denigrating remarks and salacious opinion of women has taken over the country’s newsfeeds. I am aghast, not so much that one man claiming to be a world entrepreneur now running for the office of the president can be so debauched, but more aghast at how far backward the United States has fallen with its lack of respect and dignity toward women and girls. And now, misogynists have the gall to suggest repealing the 19th Amendment! Where are the brave men and women of this nation? It took 150 years after signing of our Declaration of Independence for women to win the right to vote. It took 72 years of organized struggle on the part of many courageous women and men to be treated with some element of respect and dignity. Tragically, any man or woman who accepts such lewd acts and words of impropriety as “it’s what boys do,” is spitting in the face of grandmothers and mothers on whose shoulders they were raised; women who fought tirelessly for an ounce of dignity owed them over the years.

In order to move forward, we have to recognize and give credit to those women on whose shoulders we stand. We must recognize mothers and women who have educated their children; recognize those who have cared for the sick; women who have tilled the soil and brought food to the markets and our tables; acknowledge and recognize the women who fought for independence and stood up for justice, equality and peace.

As a woman, as a mother, as an Armenian, as President of the Armenian International Women’s Association-LA (AIWA-LA) and as an American, I want to speak up for women in this country — women who are raising children on minimum wage, women who can’t afford child care, women whose lives are threatened by violence, women with absentee husbands, women who are subjected to sexual harassment by predators running for the office of the President. What low behavioral responsibilities are we setting for our sons and daughters? I work tirelessly with AIWA to teach young girls that a woman owns her self-worth by advocating for gender equality and demanding her rights to basic human decency and respect. How can I, or any other, accept such indecent behavior as that portrayed by a presidential candidate? Those of us who have the privilege to be here, to have attained a small portion of our rights as equal citizens of the world must not forget the struggles of the brave women before us. If we fail to respect women who comprise more than half the world’s population, then we are seriously discriminating against our selves. And if we stand silent when our fathers, husbands and sons speak to our mothers, sisters and daughters with such decadence and degeneracy, we are just as responsible for accepting the consequences of crudity as “locker room–it’s what boys do” talk. Men and women, let me remind you: Gender-based harassment, both sexual and not, is against the law in the U.S.

An act repeated more than once is neither accident nor mistake but a purposeful intent—“a call of the heart.”

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Man of God

Posted on September 13, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

There are moments or happenings in one’s life which become pivotal moments. Life changing events, moments of illumination, when you realize something important that will change the course of events to come. You know. Like when you hike up a mountain and are struck with the beauty of the earth below, glide across a vast desert made stunning with undulating dunes, or stand at the edge of a cliff and are bewitched by the magnitude of the globe.  Like when you work at something you love and time elapses so fast the whole sequence becomes just one thread weaving into another.  A moment when you just meet someone for the first time and watch his smile open up hearts, and it feels perfect.

I had (among many) one such significant moment. I met Pope Francis on his pastoral trip to Armenia in June. I was privileged not just to meet him but to be serving in his presence during breakfast and dinner while he stayed in Holy Etchmiadzin. (I was part of a team that accompanied Rubina Begoumian of Robert’s Catering who was chosen to oversee the catering for delegates and tend to the meals of the Pope and his immediate entourage.)

I met a man of God. A man whose expressions of love, kindness, humility and faith restore hope.

He walks into the kitchen to greet us all, to take our hands one by one with no exception. His eyes rest on each individual.  First, the housekeeper at the kitchen sink, then the chef, the caterer, the assistant, the waiter, my hand. He thrives on personal contact, and he spends part of the morning before breakfast greeting us in the kitchen. He thanks us for our service spreading that same smile that has travelled the world over.

There is a simplicity about him. He asks for nothing opulent or too decorative. He likes toast and jam for breakfast. As I stand to wait at his table of twelve, I look at him while he talks. He speaks—quietly at first, though with steady voice…almost prophetic. He laughs. He listens. He looks so ordinary.

He is friend to the people, but he is also a solitary man retreated in thought and prayer. “He wakes up around 4:30 am,” I was told by one of the Fathers. He prays. He prays with the psalms; he celebrates Mass; he prays the Rosary; he prays in adoration. He prays in the evening; he prays after dinner. I catch a glimpse of an evening prayer. He drops slowly to his knees thinking of himself less while seeking His glory, His righteousness.  He is cloaked in humility.

Christians, clergy, lay people, blue collar workers, rich folk, poor folk, children, youth and old gather the pathways of Etchmiadzin to catch a glimpse of the Pope, to be moved by the simplest of his gestures — a wave, a smile, a benediction, a touch —  as he makes his way through to the open air altar. There is something astounding in his obvious humility, empathy and above all, devotion.  He seeks the meek, he speaks out strong, he leads, confirming once more that Christianity is based on principles of charity and compassion, forgoing “a culture of prosperity.”  A humble reminder that we should all live not for the things of this life but for the rewards of eternity. To be men and women of God.

Perhaps I am envious.  I want my church, our church, the Armenian Apostolic Church “pontiff” to make a lasting difference in people’s lives—to be, as the Pope often put it, “a hospital on a battlefield, taking in all who were wounded, regardless of which side they fought on.” I want the focus of our churches to be on the dispossessed; to wander the city’s worst neighborhoods, talk to AIDS patients, sit on park benches and hear confessions from prostitutes, heal wounds, be courageous, give alms to the poor, feed the hungry, advocate for human rights, be inclusive, speak the truth in love, speak out in the midst of sin, to not lose touch with realities in life, connect with simplicities, be vigilant against pride, to fear God not man.

 

 

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World Changer

Posted on August 23, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

During a recent trip to Armenia I had the good fortune of visiting the American University of Armenia where I met with 17 young bright minds passionately involved in changing the world in which they live. They expressed their love of heritage and culture and vocalized their concerns to create a fertile environment where youth could bravely leverage their skills, shape their future and determine the outcome of their successes. All wanted to make a change in their own world.

Traveling home on another long flight that was to connect in London, I sat next to a young woman who, after a brief nod of acknowledgement, seemed more eager to turn her face to the window and wrap herself in her own body, as though she were fighting with her own reality. She fidgeted with her own clothing; unsettled in her seat, she moved around, yet she looked paralyzed, clinging and clutching onto an invisible bubble of a world that had completely swallowed her.

Her name, she said, was Angelica. She was on her way to Harvard having just been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship for a two year study in Comparative Fine and Preforming Arts. The subject of her research: Compare and Decipher Changes in Society as Communicated and Depicted Through Contemporary Art. Did Art Generate Resistance to Change or Facilitate Flow? She was to connect on route in London with four other Fulbright scholars from around the world, (India, China, Israel, and Iran) and together they were to travel to Harvard. Anxiety, and a crippling fear of the unknown had consumed her. Here was a smart, worldly, technologically capable, well-informed young adult. She would have access to all kinds of tools, from computers and internet to museums and galleries, to a degree from one of the world’s finest universities, each of which would open doors to knowledge and power from which anything is possible. Yet, she felt fearful. Fearful of change. She knew change was inevitable. It was evident across the globe. People were discontent and manifesting their want for change everywhere. But on a personal level, she felt uncertain because she didn’t know what this experience would do to her. She said she was fearful of the change that could take place within her.

Angelica had chosen to undertake this journey although, she said, it was inconsistent with her nature. She was not one to easily abandon old habits and beliefs. Nonetheless, it was a willful choice to apply for the study. She had taken a leap of faith even with her reluctance to give up the beliefs that she had rigidly adhered to for so long within her small town environment, her family, education and comfortable job. But now on the plane, she was having second thoughts leaving her comfort zone, not wanting to take risks and venture from the familiar into unfamiliar territory. The self-discovery that she had already started the chain reaction of change with her new pursuits was a fearful realization. Add to that, Angelica feared she would discover opportunities that she would never have thought possible… chances that would have a profound influence on her personal life that could be entirely conflicting with her small town beliefs. Change. It had begun from her and from within.

A few hours later I passed Angelica on my way to my departure gate. She was sitting at her gate with a group I assumed were the colleagues she was to meet. Huddled together, having found each other from the four corners of the world, they were already conversing, sharing, comparing, exchanging, learning, discovering. I smiled to myself as I recalled Neale D. Walsh who said “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

What was once frightening to Angelica was becoming her new norm. She was already embracing the changes that were taking place in her life. Angelica was making small changes in her own world. One day she would be a world changer.

The Fulbright Program is the international educational exchange program sponsored by the U.S. government and is designed to increase mutual understanding between the people of the United States and the people of other countries. Each Fulbright’s experience is unique and depends on a variety of factors, including project details, location, and language abilities. Despite the variety of experiences, Fulbrights all describe their experiences as life changing and having a profound influence on their professional and personal endeavors. (Institute of International Education, Fulbright US Student Program)

 

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Home

Posted on July 21, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

HOME. Home is where the heart is. But what if my heart is not in just one place but is found in many places?

Home. Embedded in my nature, it is where I was born and raised. Where I played. Where I laughed, learned, and cried. It is a place where the first rain of autumn brings out the smell of the earth’s rich red clay infused with the scent of pine and the Mediterranean. The streets are small, the cars too big. Remnants of shrapnel torn buildings are interspersed among concrete and glass skyscrapers. Many, like me, have had to leave their birth homes because of war and persecution; yet, the city is overcrowded with sons and daughters of repatriates. It is a place where I grew up and learned that my mother tongue was different from this country of birth. It is where I became me. The start of my culture, traditions, religion, family, parents, siblings, warmth, comfort. A fortress of love, it is where I will always come to. This home, my Lebanon takes on a human form when I feel that tragedy has turned our world upside down, and we’ve lost some of our faith in how the world works.

Home. It is a place to where I move to spread my wings and discover the length and width of my horizons that stretch the imagination of my dreams. It is where I first experience being homesick and knowing the sharp boundary between home and the not so home until it becomes profoundly familiar. It is made up of experiences that change me and teach me. It is where I become me, mentally. These are the people and a place from which I go forth lessoned and disciplined; a place that even today, connects me to the growth and development of my teen years. With its distinct history, this big Island of Britain reaffirms that although the people have changed and many of the familiar faces have vanished, I am not a stranger among the all too familiar sounds and sights of a land of kings and queens.

Home. It is a transient place to which I belong not only in the physical term but also in moments that capture the small things that inspire and bring images resonating with affection. Here too is a reflection of my personality. Home is made of love. There is sorrow here. But there is also laughter, excitement, care, hope, and comfort within the family of those around me. Home is people. This is my space to be as I face the quotidian tug of war between feeling at home and being home. With its ancient history and roots of philosophy, the Aegean, much like the Mediterranean has that magnetic property of home. I will always come home.

Home. It is a place where everyone speaks my mother tongue. It is a symbol of all that I have learned. It is the discovery of my ancestors and the hardships they had to endure. A place of music, mountains and lake, churches, and colors; a place where God Himself called His Eden. This is my home of a truly ancient people where youth are learning to smile and laugh again. Here, the crosses carved like delicate lace embroidered on red tufa stone adorn the country as old as the hills of creation. This is the home that defines me. This is the home where memories rise to greet me through the souls of my ancestors. I am responsible for this home; her safety and the success and well being of her people…my people. It is not perfect; far from it. But this is home. This is Armenia.

Home. For a split moment it looks just like the other homes on the block. And for a fraction of that moment, when I return from my trip, I see it as a stranger would, but the illusion fades and my home is my home again. Home. It is the place I seek the new, and for the last 40 years, I have built upon the dreams of those distant lands. This is the home where persons whose hearts and minds can bind my past into my future in one single place. This home is the threshold to my sanctuary, my space to be and my space to share. All the furnishings I need, from past to present…. families, friends, love, comfort, trust, learning, security, freedom… all welcome me home.

Home. It is where the heart is.

 

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The Right Person

Posted on June 20, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

There’s something about the month of June that rushes couples to the altar and rings with the sound of wedding bells. But what makes June to be the most popular month for weddings is its origin. The month June is derived from Juno, the Roman Goddess of marriage. It was believed that those who married in June would enjoy a life of prosperity and happiness. But the more medieval reasons why June was a popular month to be married ranged from the availability of water and annual baths that took place around then making the bride and groom smell fresh, to convenience of timing conception where births wouldn’t interfere with harvest work. In the 20th century it is said that for practical purposes, June weddings helped the couple with lower income tax applied to the year’s earnings and a substantial return for the following year. Today’s reasoning is that the weather in June is best, and timing is right for holidays, honeymoons, and destination weddings. I was married in June but for none of the above reasons. I simply was in love.

Last night I met a beautiful young girl—intelligent, dynamic, high achieving, socially engaging and with a genuine concern for the welfare of children and humanity. She asked: “What is the secret to a successful marriage?” “Marry the right person,” I replied. “How do you know if said person is the right one?” she asked. And it made me think. How many couples have entered their marriages without paying attention to the early signs of a failed relationship? They are the ones who have deluded themselves into thinking they can change one another. Marriage is not about changing one another. Marriage is about finding the right person who bases his/her love on the simplest of humanity’s intrinsic qualities… kindness, respect, and loyalty.

While I do not profess to be a marriage counselor or knower of relationships, of marriage I can tell you this: Pay close attention to the actions, words and deeds of the person you claim to love. Notice in the early stages of your relationship whether his/her actions show respect toward you and all those whom you consider near and dear to your heart. We’ve all been there, fallen in love, and when that happens it is hard to sit back and evaluate the actions and deeds of the object of one’s love. But seriously, as committed adults who can spend an entire year planning the “perfect” wedding, you should be able to sit back, remove the sugar coating and see whether the person is one whose actions and deeds stem from the same core values of what has shaped you as a person. Family has shaped you. Friends you hang out with and enjoy have shaped you. Co-workers in your profession or career have shaped you. The right person is one who respects and loves you for who you are, and who feels comfortable among all those whom you love and respect for the shape you have become. Right is when two independent people know and trust their independence yet value their interdependence. They are the ones who don’t feel threatened by your need for “space”. They accept the unique quirks that make you you. The right person will see you in your worst times and in your most vulnerable times and yet make you feel more loved through listening, learning, apologizing and finding resolutions. The right person will always have your back. Always. And vice-versa. The right person will focus on the oneness of the relationship. In other words, the right person will make you realize you want that person to be in your life. You want to share with them; you want to be with them; you want to live with them. You want to rush home to them, hug them, hold them. You want to laugh again and again at the same old jokes until you start to cry or cry until you start to laugh again. You start thinking about them and you realize you can’t imagine your life without them; that somewhere along the road, your life isn’t just about you any more. It is about their needs, their wants and desires, their hopes and dreams, and somewhere in all of that, you know they are the right person because it is about your wants and needs and hopes and dreams. It is that feeling of oneness that consumes your whole being…simultaneously giving each other the opportunity to be each other’s right person.

It is the right person, simply in love with the right person.

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I’ve Watched Mothers

Posted on May 8, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

Dedicated to the women who’ve lost a child and to the women who share the burden of loss. To the women of soldiers and to the women soldiers. To the women who pray and to the women who ask for a prayer.

 Mother: she is the anchor in your ocean, while you the child is her buoy.

As I look around me today, I am in awe of mothers. The act of mothering — all that women “do” as mothers to manifest love, care, and sacrifice — is more profound than anything I’ve ever witnessed before.  I’ve watched mothers dancing with their children when they hear a good tune. I’ve seen mothers dropping everything to comfort a child when he’s sad. I’ve seen mothers sing out loud “Let It Go” with a daughter who won’t let it go. I’ve watched mothers help build towers with Duplo blocks, Legos and Magna Tiles. I’ve watched mothers who’ve watched their children adding piece after piece with no particular design except to see how high they can build with not much concern for stability or even a vision of calamity. Pretty soon, the monumental tower they build will defy gravity and topple over with the addition of one or two more pieces. It will fall and smash into smithereens. I’ve watched mothers straighten the pieces, work to fix it, building stronger foundations, adding a piece here and there, providing a supporting block where it leans, strengthening the structure, all in order to keep that tower from tumbling for as long as they can….to prevent the calamity…the disaster of when it will hit the floor, shattering their world.

Yesterday, when my children were still children, when they understood more about the world in which buildings were not made out of colorful blocks to be constructed in minutes, and where anything that crumbled could be reassembled after a few tears, I spoke of war. I spoke of how, having seen what war can do to families, to neighbors and neighborhoods, to loved ones, to mothers who beat their chest in anger and pain, whose dry eyes begged to rest in sorrow too deep to understand, I spoke of condemning war. As a mother, I spoke of turning my back to politics, politicians and the big money that drives us into a war. I spoke of peace, of art, of knowledge and evolving the best of human elements. I spoke of creating armies of musicians, artists and teachers. I spoke of their unequivocal right to do whatever they must to serve humankind.

Today, I’ve watched mothers making every effort to stay ahead of their children as they build for their freedom and their rights to live on their lands. I’ve seen the fortitude of mothers holding the fort for as long as they can, to keep that tower from tumbling, to do what they have to do to bring their sons and daughters back home. And even though they don’t believe in war and the politics or the money that drives it, their beliefs are suspended because their daughter or son is duty bound to serve and protect. On the battlefield and in war zones, these brothers and sisters are sons and daughters of every mother who has anchored a child. That child, that buoy attached to the anchor is her day and her night; her motivation, her love, her pain, her discipline, her kindness, patience, her anger, her fears and her prayers. That child, that armed son and daughter, that soldier is doing whatever s/he must to serve humankind.

I’ve watched these mothers of soldiers whose towers have tumbled. Their monuments cannot be reconstructed or put together again with a few tears. I’ve watched mothers who’ve lost a child in service to country, for freedom for humankind. These are the mothers with whom we are ready to absorb their haunting fear, their wounded rage, and their hollow glare, and fill their starving hearts with the love of our tears, with respect for their fortitude, and with gratitude for their monumental sacrifice.

I’ve watched mothers….

 

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Truth

Posted on April 4, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

fist2I am passionately interested in truth. I am passionate about speaking the truth when a wrong has been committed or an injustice spoken. I am also passionate about my duty to defend the truth. To some, truth is subjective, the personal world of opinion. Others believe truth is a collective judgment, the product of cultural consensus, while some flatly deny the concept of truth altogether.

Truth, whether or not we see it, write or read about it, or believe it, is something that happens. There’s no denying it. Truth just is. We can call it something else, or pretend it didn’t happen, but its repercussions live with us, whether we choose to remember or acknowledge its presence or not.

Distorting, skirting around the truth…lying, according to Nietzsche is a condition of life. A study conducted a few years back by Dr. Bella DePaulo confirmed that most people lie once or twice a day. Mindless pleasantries or polite exchanges we offer each other in passing, such as “I’m fine, thanks” or “No trouble at all,” is not referred to as lying by researchers. An “official” lie actually misleads, deliberately conveying a false impression. So, yes, complimenting a friend’s awful haircut or telling a landlord that the check is in the mail both qualify as an official lie.

What qualifies as a lie also is the language we use. It changes the way we view ourselves and other people in horrifying ways. We don’t kill “people.” We kill “targets.” We don’t kill “12 year old boys” but “enemy combatants.” We don’t claim “war.” We claim “cease fire” in between war. We don’t report Azerbaijan “bombarding” Armenia. We report Azerbaijan “aggressive large scale hostility” toward Armenia. By the same token, denying the Armenians the affirmation and right to credence for the scars of their memories as witnessed by one and a half million saints, and calling it by any other name except Genocide, qualifies as a lie.

The concept of truth and the consequences of rejecting it are devastating. Proof of which, the genocides that were encouraged as a result of world denial of the Armenian Genocide? Truth is not relative to circumstance. It is not subjective. Truth remains even when people have a vested interest in disregarding it. As a matter of fact, it is happening on a massive scale right now with US ally Turkey backing Azerbaijan, fueling her armor and warring against Nagorno Karabagh Armenia, allied with Russia. Turkey, while saying it opposes terrorism at every turn and wants to belong to a civil Europe, hides its true intent while heeding the old adage, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Turkey did the same when Erdogan sat on his hands for 18 months while ISIS wreaked havoc and slaughter in Syria and Iraq crumbling massive civilizations of peaceful Christian heritages and burying them in graves too deep to resurface. After all, the Turkish government opposed the Syrian regime of Bashar al-Assad, who had Putin as its ally, and ISIS was fighting that (Assad’s) regime. Turkey has since reversed itself in its role in Syria after releasing of hostages by ISIS and an agreement with the United States (whose terms are still unknown). Let’s face it. It takes willful ignorance to deny the truth about Turkey’s calculated, uncouth intentions. Turkey will continue to do what it does best. Imply that he (Erdogan) is the underdog, the victim who is forced to crack down harshly on those that “conspire” against his authority. Flashback, Ottoman Turkey 101 years.

fist5aWe Armenians have the truth. We have had it for 101 years in a world where few have had the courage to stand tall with us. Armenians and truth seekers need to proclaim it from the housetops, and quit playing along with those who flirt with the truth by way of distorting its language. We need to pursue our claims and our rights for human justice and the integrity of our souls. We cannot afford to be apathetic about the truth that one and half million ancestral saints have put in our trust. It is our duty to guard, proclaim, and pass that truth on to the next generations. Rally for Justice. Clench your fists. Drown the voices of opposition. We are 101 times stronger, 101 times more credible, with 101 times the allies who speak the truth and with 101 times more integrity than one Turkish government that fears the truth.

There is such a thing as truth.

 

 

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Men and Women: Step It Up

Posted on March 8, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

12809179_1129065007146229_2041477541_nThe theme for International Women’s Day 2016 is “Planet 50-50 by 2030: Step It Up for Gender Equality”. Last year it was “Empowering Women, Empowering Humanity: Picture It.” In 2014 it was “Equality for Women is Progress for All.” In 2013 it was “A Promise is a Promise: Time for Action to End Violence Against Women.” 2012 claimed to “Empower Rural Women: End Hunger and Poverty.” Need I continue? Shamefully, it feels like a broken record. The fact that we are still fighting a battle for equality and the recognition of the value of women’s contributions to society is indeed a shame.

Efforts to remind the international community that discrimination against women continues to be a persistent problem in much of the world, started four decades ago at the Mexico City Conference in 1975, when the first world conference on the Status of Women was convened to coincide with the International Women’s Year. While these efforts of the previous four decades helped, at a snail’s pace, to improve certain women’s conditions and access to resources, they have not been able to change the basic structure of women’s rights as human rights and the inequality in the relationship between men and women.

Despite the indisputable gains over the years, women are still being raped, trafficked, violated and discriminated against — not just in the United States but in the rest of the world. And though the United Nations, women organizations, affiliates and the Commission on the Status of Women continue to fight gender injustices, most people seem to think that outside of a few lingering battles, the work of women’s rights is done. And why not — it’s a feel-good illusion. We work and take care of our children; we participate in parish councils and political campaigns; we admire Barbara Walters,  report dangerously with Christiane Amanpour, cry with Oprah, come out with Ellen DeGeneres and laugh with Tina Fey; we pride in Madeleine Albright, give thumbs up to Susan Rice, value Samantha Powers, cheer Hillary Rodham Clinton and sigh with relief, believing we’ve come so far. For all our “empowered” rhetoric, too many of us ignore the oppression on our doorstep and on those of our neighbors’.

The truth is, women and girls make up more than half the world’s population, yet they are the most exposed and deeply impacted by poverty, climate change, food insecurity, lack of healthcare, global economic crises and distressing domestic violence and abuse. Most of these women don’t have the privilege of being able to look at gender justice from a distance; they have no choice but to live it every day. Those of us who are lucky enough not to have to think about  violence toward woman/child, poverty, sex discrimination, education, equal access to employment,  homophobia and survival on a daily basis — those of us who have the privilege — have the responsibility to open our eyes to the injustices in front of us. And then, we have the responsibility to stop it.

Because we know that when women progress, countries progress. No country can get ahead if it leaves half of its people behind. Women’s political, social and economic empowerment is critical to driving positive development in every society. Today, there is an ocean of data that positively corresponds investment in women with a country’s prosperity, yet women are still vastly underrepresented in the U.S., Armenia and globally. They hold less than one-fifth of positions in national governments meaning that important decisions that affect women, their families, and their societies are made without their having a voice. Democracy without women (half the world’s population) is a contradiction in terms.

The overarching principle is that everyone, regardless of gender, has the right to work and support themselves, to balance career and family life, and to live without the fear of abuse or violence. Gender equality implies equal distribution of opportunities between men and women in ALL domains of society. Surmounting the barriers and breaking down the stereotypes can but contribute to the growth and progress of  families, communities and countries.

In line with this year’s theme we envision a world where all women and girls have equal opportunities and rights by 2030. Step It Up. Seek ways to advance other women to become stronger catalysts for change. Advocate. Ask governments to make national commitments. Demand legislative changes that will close the gender equality gap. Break the silence. Involve your men to improve your rights. NOW is the time to Step It Up!

On a side-bar: The Armenian International Women’s Association founded 25 years ago is probably the only Armenian women’s group that has boldly taken on the responsibility of presenting a proactive agenda to improve the rights of women both in Armenia and globally. AIWA recognizes that women are the agents of change in society – advancing political, economic, and social progress, creating peace and stability. AIWA is particularly active in such UN affiliates as the Commission on the Status of Women, which sponsors annual conferences in New York in the spring; and UNIFEM, the United Nations Development Fund for Women. Ever since AIWA’s 2004 International Conference in Geneva, it has had a registered delegation. I am proud to say that on Monday, March 14, AIWA will be presenting Development of Programs and Evaluation Methodologies Designed to Achieve Gender Equality at the 60th Anniversary of the CSW in New York.

NOW, Step It Up!

 

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Love, Full Circle

Posted on February 14, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

Six years ago when my first grandchild was born I was told I would love him more than my child. “Just you wait,” they, the grandmothers said. “You’ll see how that little one will capture your heart and fill you with an indescribable feeling.” “A falling in love again feeling,” said one. “An immeasurable joy,” said the other. “Deliriously intoxicating,” said another. “A sweet surrender,” said yet another. “It’s a different love,” they all chimed in.      Two years later, my second grandchild was born, and once again I was reminded by faithful friends that grandchildren are loved more than one’s own.

Here, I beg to differ. While each of my friends is right in her measure of the immeasurable feelings, I cannot love my grandchildren more than my own child/children. To the contrary, the love for my child has reached newer depths and higher grounds with an intensity that echoes into the grandchild. I see my child in tender awe at the moment of entering into the inescapable divine fellowship of creating and nurturing, and it is at that moment that I realize that my love for my child radiates through her, gains energy with her love, and spreads with perfection into her child, my grandchild.  When I see the faith in my child’s eye, the love in her touch, the tender hope in her attitude and her weary sleepless gaze as she prays with infant in hand, I am reminded of my child of yesterday, a radiant reality of today looking upon and caring for her own child, my grandchild, I am full circle. I am wholesome. Do not misunderstand. I love my grandchildren. They, like all children embody the innocence of life with their trusting embrace filled with wonderment and unspoiled by the hard skepticism of the world, a naiveté which we all desire.      Yes, I love my grandchildren for they serve as reminders of how precious my children and all children are, and how holy the sacrament of childhood is … something we are often in danger of losing, especially when interacting with our now adult offspring. Often, as young parents, we do not have the wisdom we require at the time of need to set our priorities in order. As youth, we do not want to have wisdom. We gather knowledge, pass the experiences, and cherish hopes, which, as a rule, can only later be fulfilled. We struggle, we worry and only in hindsight, have an understanding of our hurdles and their validity in the course of our lives.

Most of us gain wisdom, understanding, patience, and the love to be wonderful parents after our parenting years are over. By the time our children produce the grandchildren, we reach the wisdom of God’s perfect love engaging mind, body and soul in unity, (at least I hope we do!). We reach a tolerance that forgets differences as we sit and play on hands and knees; we acquire a patience that rebuilds houses of blocks as they purposely topple to the floor for the hundredth time; we genuinely acquire a vision that sees the world as a splendid place with brave knights and dragons and ‘buzz light years’ and fairies, princesses, castles and x-men and Lego’s and trucks and tractors that build and destroy only to rebuild over and over again…all reaching toward the sky and beyond.

Wisdom and the years help remind me that a child’s laughter is the light of life. That wiping noses and pouring juice into “sippy” cups, though mindless, is profoundly important. That what once appeared as a life sentence to a young parent with milk stains on my shoulder, now seems to be a jail breaking, liberating experience with jelly stains on my knees. The genuineness of being comfortable with ones child-like self breaks out, and what seemed important at the time has gained in wisdom and seems unimportant now.  All the struggles and “what ifs” vanish at the sight of my child’s love for her child. I am reminded that my child, my adult child, is the “cute, adorable, naughty, lovable, play with me, splish-splash bathing, chocolate eating, just because” child. I am overflowing with the sweet nectar of love that echoes with squeals and laughter from my child and her children. I am full circle. What were the words my friends used?  Ah, yes. “Deliriously intoxicating. A sweet surrender.”

Love, full circle.

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New Year, New You. Cliché

Posted on January 4, 2016 by thisihumblyspeak

resolutionsNew Year, New You. With every New Year that rolls in, millions of people make resolutions based on what they think they should be doing rather than what they really want to be doing. As the old year ends, we promise ourselves that next year, we will be better, work less, exercise more, quit smoking, eat less, drink less, balance life, live life. And every year we fail miserably a few weeks or months into the resolution. Why? Because our resolutions are just wishes and expectations we set for ourselves; soft, furry, halfhearted decisions that reflect goals which don’t amount to anything except to say we are failures when we don’t reach them. Don’t misunderstand. Goals are good, but they detract from living life to the fullest and from being present in the here and now. We strive for improvement, even perfection, thinking that we will be happy and content if only we can achieve the often out-of-reach goals we set for ourselves. The problem is that as soon as we set ourselves a goal we’re saying that we are displeased with our situation, that we feel “less-than” and that we want more in our lives than we have right now. The very nature of goals make us look toward what’s next, never at what we have right now.

The “custom” of making resolutions is some 4000 years old. Ancient Babylonians are said to have been the first people to make New Year resolutions, though for them, the year began in mid-March when the fields were planted with crops. They celebrated for 12 days reaffirming their loyalty to the king and making promises to the gods to pay their debts and return objects they had borrowed. A similar practice in Rome occurred when Emperor Julius Caesar changed the calendar and proclaimed January as the start of the new year @ 46 BC.  The Romans offered sacrifices and made promise of good behavior in the coming year to the two faced god Janus who inhabited doorways and arches. Janus symbolically had hindsight into the previous year and looked forward into the future. Early Christians, Methodists and Evangelical Protestants and others followed the practice with covenant renewal services or watch night services where people gathered in churches on New Year’s Eve or day, reading from scriptures, setting goals and praying.

Hence, the first day of the year became the traditional occasion for thinking about establishing our intentions for the New Year. During the first week we start with an initial burst of motivation, and while some of us are more committed than others, statistics show that of the 45% of people who make New Year resolutions, most (with the exception of 8% who follow through on them) have given up by Valentine’s Day. Then they spend the next 11 months feeling guilty about them until it is time to disappoint themselves again the following year. Resolutions.  They’re just unsustainable clichés.

This year, instead of goals that reflect wishes, resolve to do something more fundamental, more central and more important to your overall development. Resolve to pray. Resolve to have confidence in yourself; confidence that comes from the spiritual realization and the humility that self-will and determination alone are not always enough to overcome shortcomings.  Resolve to approach with humility the acknowledgment that there is a power beyond yourself that is all encompassing. Resolve to pray. If there is anything I’ve learned it is this: In prayer you have help. Make your spiritual growth and the nurturing of your faith the goals of the New Year. Keep the driving force towards any objective centered on prayer. Learn to go within with prayer with the all-encompassing Presence above, beneath, around and beyond, and most importantly, within you. Move away from cliché. Begin to make the greatest spiritual discovery of your life.

Instead of the usual hard-to-achieve wishes and dreams this New Year, why not resolve to live each precious day fully, humbly asking for help when you need it, generously offering assistance when you can give it? Instead of making New Year’s resolutions that are so cliché that lament the past, point out our failures or concentrate too much on the future, live each day fully with humble prayer.

Integrate this one simple addition to your New Year Resolution List and avoid being a cliché in 2016.

Make Prayer your New Year, New You Resolution.

Happy New 2016.

 

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