A young couple moves into a new neighborhood.
The first morning in the new house, while she is eating breakfast with her husband, the young woman watches her neighbor hang the laundry outside to dry.
Pointing her finger at some visible stains on the freshly laundered garments, the woman tells her husband: “Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”
Her husband looks on, but remains silent.
From that day on, every time she sees her neighbor hang her wash to dry, the young woman continues to make the same comments.
A month later, the woman is surprised to see sparkly clean sheets on the line, and says to her husband: “Look! She has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder what changed.”
The husband says: “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows!”
And so it is with life: What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look. Before we give any criticism, it might be a good idea to ask ourselves if we are ready to see the good, rather than look for something in the person we are about to judge.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Criticism: Friend or Foe?
Criticism is often perceived as a personal attack, and our first reaction, when others criticize our actions or thoughts, is to become defensive and, often, lash back.
When someone criticizes our behavior or words, we feel undermined, and are afraid that once discredited, our personal worth is compromised in the eyes of the world.
As children, our greatest goal is to please adults and hear their words of praise. As adults, things don’t change much. We long to be connected to others, and become distraught when we feel rejected.
No matter what the issue at hand, people will have different opinions. Although some will choose to spew their position using less than desirable words, it is possible that a bit of truth is hidden within the wave of negative statements.
Many of us argue with others merely to hear a confirmation of our own beliefs; receiving approval for what we think or feel gives us a sense of validity of our own ideas, and reinforces our resolve to believe in them.
When we are entirely comfortable with something, we don’t feel the need to argue our point, as we know that, no matter how others feel, our ideas are unchangeable, and we will stick by them even if we are one against the rest of the world. When we argue – and especially when we become belligerent around the issue we are arguing about – is simply because we are still trying to figure out the validity of what we are stating. We seek approval from others in supporting us against those who don’t agree with us, as we feel comforted by the power of numbers. If others agree, we assume, our ideas must be right.
How can we accept criticism as our friend, and turn a negative into a positive?
1) Take time to cool off, so that raw emotions won’t cloud your judgment. Delay response until able to process the meaning of what’s being said.
2) Turn a negative into a positive. Rather than arguing your point, seek the silver lining within the hurtful words. Everything has a positive side.
3) Be open minded enough to accept the fact that there may be some truth in the hurtful words, and commit to try to see if you can indeed learn something new.
4) Criticism is very rarely a personal attack. It may be an attack of your words or actions, but it is not inherently directed to you as a person. Learn how to detach the two.
5) Remain calm and positive, and take the opportunity to clarify your views without feeling you have to become defensive. You are not being personally attacked. Thank the other party for their opinion. After all, opinion is tied to individual perception and does not always reflect reality.
Ultimately, criticism can be a positive thing, if it is viewed as such. And we’ll feel good knowing we have turned an enemy into a long lasting friend.
When someone criticizes our behavior or words, we feel undermined, and are afraid that once discredited, our personal worth is compromised in the eyes of the world.
As children, our greatest goal is to please adults and hear their words of praise. As adults, things don’t change much. We long to be connected to others, and become distraught when we feel rejected.
No matter what the issue at hand, people will have different opinions. Although some will choose to spew their position using less than desirable words, it is possible that a bit of truth is hidden within the wave of negative statements.
Many of us argue with others merely to hear a confirmation of our own beliefs; receiving approval for what we think or feel gives us a sense of validity of our own ideas, and reinforces our resolve to believe in them.
When we are entirely comfortable with something, we don’t feel the need to argue our point, as we know that, no matter how others feel, our ideas are unchangeable, and we will stick by them even if we are one against the rest of the world. When we argue – and especially when we become belligerent around the issue we are arguing about – is simply because we are still trying to figure out the validity of what we are stating. We seek approval from others in supporting us against those who don’t agree with us, as we feel comforted by the power of numbers. If others agree, we assume, our ideas must be right.
How can we accept criticism as our friend, and turn a negative into a positive?
1) Take time to cool off, so that raw emotions won’t cloud your judgment. Delay response until able to process the meaning of what’s being said.
2) Turn a negative into a positive. Rather than arguing your point, seek the silver lining within the hurtful words. Everything has a positive side.
3) Be open minded enough to accept the fact that there may be some truth in the hurtful words, and commit to try to see if you can indeed learn something new.
4) Criticism is very rarely a personal attack. It may be an attack of your words or actions, but it is not inherently directed to you as a person. Learn how to detach the two.
5) Remain calm and positive, and take the opportunity to clarify your views without feeling you have to become defensive. You are not being personally attacked. Thank the other party for their opinion. After all, opinion is tied to individual perception and does not always reflect reality.
Ultimately, criticism can be a positive thing, if it is viewed as such. And we’ll feel good knowing we have turned an enemy into a long lasting friend.
Dear Santa, I Thought You Could Read My Mind...
How many times in our lives do we receive gifts we don’t really need or want, and seethe internally because the other person was not sensible enough to anticipate our true wishes?
We may come up on a birthday, or other Holiday, and, once asked what we would like, our answer simply is: “Oh, you don’t have to worry about a gift. I really can’t think of a thing.” Deep down, we expect to be showered with lavish gifts and attention because the other person SHOULD want to make us happy, but our pride stops us from expressing what we really want. We expect people to read minds, and are disappointed if the other party’s “psychic” qualities are not as sharp as we thought.
Many years ago, I used to work at a downtown hotel as front desk supervisor. The reservation manager surprised us one morning by telling us that she would be leaving.
My heart leapt at the opportunity; I really wanted that job. I immediately went to the front office manager and volunteered to keep up with the reservation work after my colleague left. The two weeks passed by. I arranged my schedule so I could be in the reservation office during the day, and still be able to oversee front desk operations. By now, I thought, the job was certainly mine. I had learned anything there was to learn about reservations, and could envision the front office manager coming up to me and beg me to take the position.
About a week after that, bright and early one morning, a young girl showed up at the front desk and asked for me. She told me her name and said that she had been hired for the reservation manager position; furthermore, the front office manager told her that I would be training her, and how excited I would probably be to resume my regular job.
I was floored. All I had hoped for, and worked so hard to achieve, was crumbling in front of me like a house of cards. Maybe there was a mistake, I thought.
But it was no mistake. Jane took over the reservation office, and I went back to my old job. What went wrong? Why didn’t I get the position?
I realized then that I had never asked for the job after all. I volunteered to help, yes, but never formally said anything about wanting the position. In fact, every chance I had, I always reminded the front office manager how much I loved my regular job and my customers! I had dug my own career’s grave by not stating clearly what I really wanted, assuming that he could read my mind.
Most of us readily expect others to KNOW what we wish, but we are the only ones who know what’s important to us.
That situation taught me to be more direct and make sure that people know exactly what I expect. Whether they will comply or not is a different thing, but at least I will never have to beat myself up for losing an opportunity to the demon of improper communication.
We may come up on a birthday, or other Holiday, and, once asked what we would like, our answer simply is: “Oh, you don’t have to worry about a gift. I really can’t think of a thing.” Deep down, we expect to be showered with lavish gifts and attention because the other person SHOULD want to make us happy, but our pride stops us from expressing what we really want. We expect people to read minds, and are disappointed if the other party’s “psychic” qualities are not as sharp as we thought.
Many years ago, I used to work at a downtown hotel as front desk supervisor. The reservation manager surprised us one morning by telling us that she would be leaving.
My heart leapt at the opportunity; I really wanted that job. I immediately went to the front office manager and volunteered to keep up with the reservation work after my colleague left. The two weeks passed by. I arranged my schedule so I could be in the reservation office during the day, and still be able to oversee front desk operations. By now, I thought, the job was certainly mine. I had learned anything there was to learn about reservations, and could envision the front office manager coming up to me and beg me to take the position.
About a week after that, bright and early one morning, a young girl showed up at the front desk and asked for me. She told me her name and said that she had been hired for the reservation manager position; furthermore, the front office manager told her that I would be training her, and how excited I would probably be to resume my regular job.
I was floored. All I had hoped for, and worked so hard to achieve, was crumbling in front of me like a house of cards. Maybe there was a mistake, I thought.
But it was no mistake. Jane took over the reservation office, and I went back to my old job. What went wrong? Why didn’t I get the position?
I realized then that I had never asked for the job after all. I volunteered to help, yes, but never formally said anything about wanting the position. In fact, every chance I had, I always reminded the front office manager how much I loved my regular job and my customers! I had dug my own career’s grave by not stating clearly what I really wanted, assuming that he could read my mind.
Most of us readily expect others to KNOW what we wish, but we are the only ones who know what’s important to us.
That situation taught me to be more direct and make sure that people know exactly what I expect. Whether they will comply or not is a different thing, but at least I will never have to beat myself up for losing an opportunity to the demon of improper communication.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The Cabin in the Mountains
Last night I thought about a little cabin in the mountains my parents used to rent throughout my childhood.
It wasn’t the average vacation home, and frankly I don’t know how my parents ever found it. It was an old house –built in the late 1800s or early 1900s- entirely embraced by a thick forest, situated on top of a mountain in the Appennini range in Italy. It was not accessible by car, so we always had to park at the foot of the mountain and then hike all the way up, using a very narrow path swallowed by tall weeds and canopied by taller tree branches which seemed to connect fingers with each other as if in prayer.
It was quite a hike. Since we could not bring the car up, we had to lug groceries and other necessities up the walking trail.
I remember the first time we went up: After walking for what felt like an eternity, we finally spilled around a curve and continued up a slightly wider path which led directly to the house. The structure itself was old stone, and it vaguely reminded me of the small houses I had seen on Mickey Mouse cartoons. It was a two-story home, with green shutters, and a huge chimney; two large oak trees stood beside it as if they were guarding the abode from the threat of invisible enemies. On the other side of the house was an old tub and an enclosure – also built in stone – which had probably been used as a patio.
The house itself was not very impressive. It was old and isolated, with no phone service and a little box of a bathroom built in the rear of the attached barn.
While my parents went quickly to work, airing out and cleaning up, I had the chance to walk around the premises and take it all in. Contrary to my sister, I was already in love with the place. At a time of my life when Heidi was my favorite movie character, I felt as if I had magically switched places with her, and I was given the exclusive of spending the summer at her grandfather’s mountain cabin.
There was something special about the place; although it was old and run down - and nearly a heart attack to reach - it was like a bite of Heaven on earth, tucked near the clouds as it was, with a front seat view on the valley that spread underneath like a precious Persian rug. It was beautiful, mysterious, breathtaking. It took a lot of effort to reach it but once there it was amazing.
Isn’t that how life works, too? We work hard and struggle to reach something, often discouraged and tired as we wade through the difficulties on our path. Once we finally reach our intended destination, we are able to truly taste the flavor of the final reward.
We would not appreciate sunrise without the dark night, or the hug of a warm blanket if we had not been clutched by the icy fingers of a cold winter day.
It wasn’t the average vacation home, and frankly I don’t know how my parents ever found it. It was an old house –built in the late 1800s or early 1900s- entirely embraced by a thick forest, situated on top of a mountain in the Appennini range in Italy. It was not accessible by car, so we always had to park at the foot of the mountain and then hike all the way up, using a very narrow path swallowed by tall weeds and canopied by taller tree branches which seemed to connect fingers with each other as if in prayer.
It was quite a hike. Since we could not bring the car up, we had to lug groceries and other necessities up the walking trail.
I remember the first time we went up: After walking for what felt like an eternity, we finally spilled around a curve and continued up a slightly wider path which led directly to the house. The structure itself was old stone, and it vaguely reminded me of the small houses I had seen on Mickey Mouse cartoons. It was a two-story home, with green shutters, and a huge chimney; two large oak trees stood beside it as if they were guarding the abode from the threat of invisible enemies. On the other side of the house was an old tub and an enclosure – also built in stone – which had probably been used as a patio.
The house itself was not very impressive. It was old and isolated, with no phone service and a little box of a bathroom built in the rear of the attached barn.
While my parents went quickly to work, airing out and cleaning up, I had the chance to walk around the premises and take it all in. Contrary to my sister, I was already in love with the place. At a time of my life when Heidi was my favorite movie character, I felt as if I had magically switched places with her, and I was given the exclusive of spending the summer at her grandfather’s mountain cabin.
There was something special about the place; although it was old and run down - and nearly a heart attack to reach - it was like a bite of Heaven on earth, tucked near the clouds as it was, with a front seat view on the valley that spread underneath like a precious Persian rug. It was beautiful, mysterious, breathtaking. It took a lot of effort to reach it but once there it was amazing.
Isn’t that how life works, too? We work hard and struggle to reach something, often discouraged and tired as we wade through the difficulties on our path. Once we finally reach our intended destination, we are able to truly taste the flavor of the final reward.
We would not appreciate sunrise without the dark night, or the hug of a warm blanket if we had not been clutched by the icy fingers of a cold winter day.
Holding on to Faith
Last night I had a strange dream. I was driving down some unknown road, and suddenly I came upon a road block. I got out of the car to see what the problem was, and saw a table set up on the side of the road, with a small fish bowl in the middle. Inside the bowl the water was very murky, but a small orange goldfish was still alive in it. It looked undernourished, but very much alive. When I picked up the bowl, the fish flipped and almost came out of the water, so I ran to get some fresher water and some food for him. I figured it would take some time to bring the tiny creature back to its prime, but with good food, a little TLC and the appropriate amount of time everything would be alright.
Then I woke up. I lied in bed awake for a while, wondering what on God’s green earth the dream was about. I began to speculate what the fish might symbolize for me, and why the little fellow was stuck in such a bad place, not conducive to its growth.
I thought about faith. Could it be it? Has my faith faltered during this time of hardship for our country? Maybe a little.
I was raised to be very driven by the power of Spirit, and have always felt reassured that things will, somehow, work themselves out.
I think lately, as many others have, I have been unknowingly thrust into the vacuum of anxiety which has enshrouded our world. Not entirely, mind you, but I have found myself wondering what will happen. I think that all the hatred spewed around the political race, the failing economic situation and the general anxiety which has greatly been exploited by the media have taken a toll on most of us.
I woke up this morning with a different type of resolve: I am claiming back my full faith. No longer will I get wrapped into the ugliness of things, if I can help it, and I will once again “know” that everything is going to be alright. Somehow, things will find the path to straighten up, and all the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and know that everything happens for a reason. We have come to associate our self-worth to material possessions, but have now come to a crossroad where we need, once again, to shed that notion.
Spirit is known by many names, depending on the tradition one follows, but the essence of It remains the same. Spirit is ever present to hold our hand and lead us out of the dark cave we have, halfway consciously, trapped ourselves into.
We will survive the hardship and, because of it, we will be better people. We only need to believe and reach out to one another, rather than isolating ourselves. We just need to nourish our faith a little more, and fish it back out of the murky water it has survived into.
Then I woke up. I lied in bed awake for a while, wondering what on God’s green earth the dream was about. I began to speculate what the fish might symbolize for me, and why the little fellow was stuck in such a bad place, not conducive to its growth.
I thought about faith. Could it be it? Has my faith faltered during this time of hardship for our country? Maybe a little.
I was raised to be very driven by the power of Spirit, and have always felt reassured that things will, somehow, work themselves out.
I think lately, as many others have, I have been unknowingly thrust into the vacuum of anxiety which has enshrouded our world. Not entirely, mind you, but I have found myself wondering what will happen. I think that all the hatred spewed around the political race, the failing economic situation and the general anxiety which has greatly been exploited by the media have taken a toll on most of us.
I woke up this morning with a different type of resolve: I am claiming back my full faith. No longer will I get wrapped into the ugliness of things, if I can help it, and I will once again “know” that everything is going to be alright. Somehow, things will find the path to straighten up, and all the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and know that everything happens for a reason. We have come to associate our self-worth to material possessions, but have now come to a crossroad where we need, once again, to shed that notion.
Spirit is known by many names, depending on the tradition one follows, but the essence of It remains the same. Spirit is ever present to hold our hand and lead us out of the dark cave we have, halfway consciously, trapped ourselves into.
We will survive the hardship and, because of it, we will be better people. We only need to believe and reach out to one another, rather than isolating ourselves. We just need to nourish our faith a little more, and fish it back out of the murky water it has survived into.
Living the Life of a Liberal Conservative
Can a conservative and a liberal peacefully cohabitate the same body? They certainly can; I am the living proof of it. Before anyone ruffles their feathers, let me explain.
I was raised in a conservative family, and my parents made sure we children understood our family had no tolerance for loose morals and teenage rebellion. Both my mother and father held a respectable place within the microcosm of their social circles, and were very clear about their views on life.
To them, honor, hard work, faith and respect were huge on their list of priorities.
Unbeknownst to me, their loving influence affected me more than I thought possible.
Like my parents, I also believe in solid morals and traditions, I am a fervid believer in the power of Spirit, and live my life according to the Golden Rule. These same values I try to impart to my children. In fact, I made a choice long ago to be a stay-at-home mom, to ensure that my kids would be raised by me, and would not be influenced by questionable views at such young ages. Thankfully, I married a great man who shares the same principals, so it has been fairly smooth sailing the whole twenty years we’ve been together.
Now, to the liberal part.
Although I hold on to traditions, and largely live my life according to the views that have been passed down to me, I can’t bury my head under the sand and pretend that everybody is as privileged as I have been.
I know there are people out there who have not had the vantage point of growing up in a solid home; I know there are people that have only experienced hardship in their lives, simply because they were born on the wrong side of the tracks, or in countries ravaged by war and famine. And I know there are people who do rely on others before they can pick themselves up after they have fallen.
Those people exist, so I feel that I have to keep my mind open and embrace the fact that if we hope to move forward within the process of human evolution, I have to be a part of accepting the beauty of diversity in the world. I believe wholeheartedly in self-responsibility, but I also believe in helping others out if they are in a position of not being able to help themselves.
I believe in protecting the defenseless, such as the very young and the elderly, and believe every existing creature has a right to live, whether we do or don’t deem it worth it within the scales of our societal beliefs.
I believe in preserving our environment, because we only have one earth; it’s a bit controversial to state we have strong family values, and then not realize that saving our earth is the very best gift we can give our children and the generations that will come next, as they will have a healthy, beautiful planet to live on. Saving our planet ensures the survival of our own genes.
I could go on and on, citing many examples, but I think everyone has pretty much gotten the picture. I am a conservative who’s liberal at the edges, with no need for extremes.
And thanks to that, I am enjoying the best of both worlds.
I was raised in a conservative family, and my parents made sure we children understood our family had no tolerance for loose morals and teenage rebellion. Both my mother and father held a respectable place within the microcosm of their social circles, and were very clear about their views on life.
To them, honor, hard work, faith and respect were huge on their list of priorities.
Unbeknownst to me, their loving influence affected me more than I thought possible.
Like my parents, I also believe in solid morals and traditions, I am a fervid believer in the power of Spirit, and live my life according to the Golden Rule. These same values I try to impart to my children. In fact, I made a choice long ago to be a stay-at-home mom, to ensure that my kids would be raised by me, and would not be influenced by questionable views at such young ages. Thankfully, I married a great man who shares the same principals, so it has been fairly smooth sailing the whole twenty years we’ve been together.
Now, to the liberal part.
Although I hold on to traditions, and largely live my life according to the views that have been passed down to me, I can’t bury my head under the sand and pretend that everybody is as privileged as I have been.
I know there are people out there who have not had the vantage point of growing up in a solid home; I know there are people that have only experienced hardship in their lives, simply because they were born on the wrong side of the tracks, or in countries ravaged by war and famine. And I know there are people who do rely on others before they can pick themselves up after they have fallen.
Those people exist, so I feel that I have to keep my mind open and embrace the fact that if we hope to move forward within the process of human evolution, I have to be a part of accepting the beauty of diversity in the world. I believe wholeheartedly in self-responsibility, but I also believe in helping others out if they are in a position of not being able to help themselves.
I believe in protecting the defenseless, such as the very young and the elderly, and believe every existing creature has a right to live, whether we do or don’t deem it worth it within the scales of our societal beliefs.
I believe in preserving our environment, because we only have one earth; it’s a bit controversial to state we have strong family values, and then not realize that saving our earth is the very best gift we can give our children and the generations that will come next, as they will have a healthy, beautiful planet to live on. Saving our planet ensures the survival of our own genes.
I could go on and on, citing many examples, but I think everyone has pretty much gotten the picture. I am a conservative who’s liberal at the edges, with no need for extremes.
And thanks to that, I am enjoying the best of both worlds.
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Field Trip
Imagine going on a field trip. You get to see new things, some of which you will absolutely love, and others you won’t like or find boring.
I remember some of the field trips I took during school years. No matter what the destination was, I was always excited.
The main goal of the trip was to expose students to an educational topic, but in the minds of the kids field trips were strictly a chance to have fun. At that age, we found the bright side of everything, even in a boring exhibit at the museum of history.
I see life as a paramount field trip.
Alike kids departing on a bus, ready to go explore something new, we came to earth to learn something, and arrived armed with the verve of youth, prepared to enjoy the trip regardless of what we would see.
The point of going on the trip was to learn something while having fun. But are we having fun? Do we still enjoy the camaraderie which united us when we embarked on the trip? Since reaching our destination, many of us have become too absorbed in the exhibits and have forgotten that we were also supposed to enjoy each other’s company.
We seem to draw close only when something catastrophic happens, and miss the chance we have, every given day, to make the most of our trip.
It’s good to remember we all came on the same bus and we are all friends. Let’s make our brief stay one to be remembered.
It’s not too hard to accomplish that; sometimes, all it takes is for us to smile at the friend who’s standing near.
I remember some of the field trips I took during school years. No matter what the destination was, I was always excited.
The main goal of the trip was to expose students to an educational topic, but in the minds of the kids field trips were strictly a chance to have fun. At that age, we found the bright side of everything, even in a boring exhibit at the museum of history.
I see life as a paramount field trip.
Alike kids departing on a bus, ready to go explore something new, we came to earth to learn something, and arrived armed with the verve of youth, prepared to enjoy the trip regardless of what we would see.
The point of going on the trip was to learn something while having fun. But are we having fun? Do we still enjoy the camaraderie which united us when we embarked on the trip? Since reaching our destination, many of us have become too absorbed in the exhibits and have forgotten that we were also supposed to enjoy each other’s company.
We seem to draw close only when something catastrophic happens, and miss the chance we have, every given day, to make the most of our trip.
It’s good to remember we all came on the same bus and we are all friends. Let’s make our brief stay one to be remembered.
It’s not too hard to accomplish that; sometimes, all it takes is for us to smile at the friend who’s standing near.
The Stranger Within
It is rare to find an individual who is comfortable sitting in silence, allowing his or her mind to be still. Perhaps this is intentional, more than we care to admit.
We do this whenever we claim to need “me” time, but fill our quiet moments alone with people and activities.
We need to be brutally honest and recognize that we fill our lives with clutter—sometimes intentionally, sometimes passively—but we allow it just the same. Anything to avoid being alone with ourselves.
We all know people who seem afraid to be alone. They always need to be with someone, on the phone, or online interacting in some way just to avoid having a chat with themselves.
Most are running from something...a memory, a feeling, an abandoned dream. It is very hard to know what we are running away from until we've taken time to listen, but the whispers we hear from within can be distressing. It's easier to contain our thoughts and emotions rather than face them.
By doing this, we only increase the pressure within. Relieving this inner pressure does not require a lot of time. Ten minutes a day is often enough to clear away the clutter in our minds. Sit still and observe the internal chatter. Meditate. Pray. Just pay attention.
Somehow we must remove the incessant needless distractions from our lives. We need time to go within and listen. More than anything we need to stop running from ourselves.
If we don't put forth effort to try to hear our own voice, why should we expect anyone else to listen to us?
We do this whenever we claim to need “me” time, but fill our quiet moments alone with people and activities.
We need to be brutally honest and recognize that we fill our lives with clutter—sometimes intentionally, sometimes passively—but we allow it just the same. Anything to avoid being alone with ourselves.
We all know people who seem afraid to be alone. They always need to be with someone, on the phone, or online interacting in some way just to avoid having a chat with themselves.
Most are running from something...a memory, a feeling, an abandoned dream. It is very hard to know what we are running away from until we've taken time to listen, but the whispers we hear from within can be distressing. It's easier to contain our thoughts and emotions rather than face them.
By doing this, we only increase the pressure within. Relieving this inner pressure does not require a lot of time. Ten minutes a day is often enough to clear away the clutter in our minds. Sit still and observe the internal chatter. Meditate. Pray. Just pay attention.
Somehow we must remove the incessant needless distractions from our lives. We need time to go within and listen. More than anything we need to stop running from ourselves.
If we don't put forth effort to try to hear our own voice, why should we expect anyone else to listen to us?
Are We Really Pro-Life?
With the presidential elections at the door, one of the tickets each party has been leaning on to attract voters is the right to choose life. What does being pro-life actually mean? What criteria should be used when determining who’s right and who’s wrong?
There are many who denounce abortion, but condone those who kill in the name of life, or are open supporters of the death penalty. Killing is killing, whether the victim is a fetus, a child, a father, a doctor or a criminal.
Everybody has a right to live, but many appear to be bias in regard to choosing which type of life has more or less right to thrive.
Being pro-life does not mean that abortion should be illegal. It means that the individual believes in the value of life and chooses not to have an abortion because she has the right to bring life forth.
Criminalization of abortion did not reduce the number of women who sought abortions. It is estimated that in the years before Roe vs. Wade the number of illegal abortions ranged as high as 1.2 million per year.
Many women died or suffered serious medical problems after attempting to self-induce their abortions or going to untrained practitioners who performed abortions with primitive methods or in unsanitary conditions.
Putting the federal government in charge of a choice which should be strictly personal, and considered on individual basis rather than a whole, would make us no different than the Asian countries obligating their women not to have children.
Life needs to be respected for the value it has, all across the board.
Abortion should not be taken lightly or be a substitute for contraception. Yet, women should have the right to decide what is appropriate for them, one way or the other. If I was raped and became pregnant, I feel that it should be up to me to decide whether I want to bring forth the product of a vicious attack; others should not decide for me regarding something that affects me so closely.
I personally believe in life, and would not choose otherwise, but I still think that the freedom of choice needs to remain protected as one of our constitutional rights.
To me, being pro-life means that we should support increased education, and prevent loss of life rather than forbidding personal choices. Regardless of personal views, life is our greatest gift and one we should not take lightly. Individuals are the ones who should choose life; the government shouldn’t do it for them.
And that is true freedom.
There are many who denounce abortion, but condone those who kill in the name of life, or are open supporters of the death penalty. Killing is killing, whether the victim is a fetus, a child, a father, a doctor or a criminal.
Everybody has a right to live, but many appear to be bias in regard to choosing which type of life has more or less right to thrive.
Being pro-life does not mean that abortion should be illegal. It means that the individual believes in the value of life and chooses not to have an abortion because she has the right to bring life forth.
Criminalization of abortion did not reduce the number of women who sought abortions. It is estimated that in the years before Roe vs. Wade the number of illegal abortions ranged as high as 1.2 million per year.
Many women died or suffered serious medical problems after attempting to self-induce their abortions or going to untrained practitioners who performed abortions with primitive methods or in unsanitary conditions.
Putting the federal government in charge of a choice which should be strictly personal, and considered on individual basis rather than a whole, would make us no different than the Asian countries obligating their women not to have children.
Life needs to be respected for the value it has, all across the board.
Abortion should not be taken lightly or be a substitute for contraception. Yet, women should have the right to decide what is appropriate for them, one way or the other. If I was raped and became pregnant, I feel that it should be up to me to decide whether I want to bring forth the product of a vicious attack; others should not decide for me regarding something that affects me so closely.
I personally believe in life, and would not choose otherwise, but I still think that the freedom of choice needs to remain protected as one of our constitutional rights.
To me, being pro-life means that we should support increased education, and prevent loss of life rather than forbidding personal choices. Regardless of personal views, life is our greatest gift and one we should not take lightly. Individuals are the ones who should choose life; the government shouldn’t do it for them.
And that is true freedom.
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