Bosnia, Nader, Scotland’s Stone of Destiny, family. Not often do I indulge in television for the simple reason there’s nothing, really, to indulge in other than the banal. Occasionally, however, I get up early, reheat the previous day’s coffee, and turn on the tube. This morning I read about Angelina Jolie’s newest effort, a movie about a Bosnian rape camp and a relationship between a woman and a man. The story can’t be new, but the trailer was moving and so I’d like to see it. No fan of actors with causes, I do respect the work Jolie involves herself in toward helping others less fortunate. You can challenge that with a remonstration about how bad it is in America and why don’t we help ourselves, but help is help, you know? And we’re all free to choose where we want to apply our efforts, so I don’t really mind that it’s about Bosnia and not about America. In the end, it’s about other human beings who suffer. A documentary on Ralph Nader’s presidential bids in 2000 and 2004 was revelatory. I’m apathetic to the Green Movement, viewing it as a very, very politically-minded engine and less so a conscience-driven movement. Once again, the message was one of conviction (at least that was my perception), although the spin was one of ego and politics. All party affiliation and campaigning aside, the guy put a lot on the line: 40-some years of looking out for the citizens – to speak frankly and rally for a difference in government. As far as Scotland, the movie was merely something to scroll through in a search for morning music. I stopped because I recognized the actress, and continued to watch as the story unfolded, a portrayal of how a large stone placed beneath the Throne of England portrayed England’s rule over Scotland, and how a foursome of university students stole the stone and returned it to Scotland. The representation was one of vanquished repression, albeit with humor and good ending – the things dreams are made of.
Family. A tough time for mine lately. Spending the morning watching each of these makes me appreciate that suffering comes in many forms, and that judgment serves no purpose. It’s a contemplative day, this Sunday. I am not alone.