Monday morning, a good time to act as if I'm well organized.
When you live at the post office, each acceptance is a thrill.
Here's what and where I've published in the past 7 years:

As You Make Your Bed
StringTown, Issue #11, 2009

To Hold Infinity
VoiceCatcher 4, 2009

I Have Been to Jero Tapakan
Ink-Filled Page: Red Anthology, Vol. 3, 2009

Acceptable Risk
Crab Orchard Review, Vol. 13, 2008 Winter/Spring

Restoration
The Healing Muse, Vol. 7, 2007

Slowly, Slowly
Dos Passos Review, Vol.2.1, 2005

I Lift My Eyes
Raven Chronicles, This Neutral Air, Special 9/11 Issue, Vol. 10, No.4, 2003

respond/create/discuss

Reports today suggest that Democratic officials promised Specter that the party establishment would support him, rather than a real Democrat, in a primary. If true, few events more vividly illustrate the complete lack of core beliefs of Democratic leaders, as well as the rapidly diminishing differences between the parties. Why would Democrats want a full-blooded Republican representing them in the blue state of Pennsylvania? Specter is highly likely to reprise the Joe Lieberman role for Democrats: a "Democrat" who leads the way in criticizing and blocking Democratic initiatives, forcing the party still further towards Republican policies. --Glenn Greenwald in Salon

Arlen Specter is still linked in my memory to his image on the TV screen that hung above a reception desk at Virginia Mason Medical Center. I was checking in for my first appointment with a breast cancer surgeon, and there Specter was, all prosecutorial, questioning Anita Hill. The woman behind the desk paused as Hill answered him, and we nodded to each other, pleased to see her holding steady under fire.

The Senate confirmation hearings for Clarence Thomas's appointment to the Supreme Court had taken an unexpected detour with Anita Hill's testimony. Another woman had found herself where she did not want to be: "It would have been more comfortable to remain silent . . . I took no initiative to inform anyone . . . I could not keep silent."

And so it went with all my pre-op appointments that day. I traded reactions to the hearing with the women who poked, measured, and interviewed me. With the men I stuck to the business at hand, finding myself actively disliking them, willing to characterize all men, for those few hours, as either malevolent or inept. It probably would have been more fair to substitute "Democrats" for "men" in that characterization.

For some reason, these words of wisdom, a quote from Italian Days by Barbara Grizzuti Harrison, are a catch phrase in my family.

I travel with peanuts, cashews, almonds, or Balance bars, Gold bars, 40-30-30 bars, with string cheese from supermarkets or rich local cheeses. My purse or backpack never lacks for protein. Fear drives my prudence.

Memories of family trips blur into a single bad trip, Frank behind the wheel as dusk turns to dark, pushing on to find the promised campground, motel, diner, our own stash of food inaccessible in the Volkswagen camper, the International TravelAll, the Nissan Sentra, packed away beneath children in the years they traveled with us, children asleep or sullen or querulous. Inevitably, I've doled out the last of the protein and we're left with brown bananas, softening plums, a bag of raisins, when my blood sugar drops, taking with it all good sense. I cling to the last shreds of maternal decency by shutting up and tuning out, incapable of reasoned discourse.

Later, children grown, Frank and I travel by station wagon or Toyota pickup, food still remote in the back, under the canopy, passing California freeway exits. Along with the shakes and bad temper comes my inability to make a decision. I'm convinced that all choices offered are bad and the situation hopeless. By the time Frank leaves the freeway we're in a small town—empty streets, all restaurant lights turned off, only a motel offering packets of coffee, sugar, non-dairy creamer in a rough-carpeted room. The headache will come, does come, and anger with my husband for whom hunger is an inconvenience, who remains his own good-natured self.

I hate who I become—and then there's the fear. I've blacked out before, briefly, regaining my balance when the darkness clears, able to find food, to eat slowly, gratefully. But I don't know what lies at the other side of that darkness. Would it last? Would it be like diving into deep water, my natural buoyancy bringing me back to the surface? Or not? A black hole sucking me in? Might I trust, turn to sleep, breathe slow and even, sleep until morning. I remind myself that when there's nothing to be done, it's better to do nothing.

But the quieter I grow the greater Frank's concern, as irritating as the scratchy underside of the quilted motel bedspread. I don't want sympathy. I turn away, thinking but not saying, Don't remind me that you're here. I'll only blame you. It's all your fault. You were driving. You wouldn't stop. You'd point out diners only after we passed the exit. Never go back—some principal! I hug my anger to me, pressing it to me until the hard stone against my belly feels like peace.

God bless the child that's got her own—at night in California on Highway 101, at noon in Rome when every store is closed till four, outside the train station in Firenze with only a gellateria open, or on Bali's north coast when the small warung offers only salty peanuts, shrimp crackers, or sweetened, tepid tea.

• Lots of illustrations by a professional artist and integral to the text.
• Horrendous struggle by the author to detach it from a printer who promised more than he could deliver.
• Muddy cover, which will be replaced in the next printing.
• Complete authorial control of text, design, and artwork.

The resulting book is a labor of love by a writer clearly knowledgeable and dedicated to presenting a clear, nontechnical introduction to Jung's concept of the shadow with the goal of providing the reader with a clear enough understanding to recognize personal and social projections of the shadow and to "minimize the negative and maximize the positive in your own shadow."

Plumb uses the fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast, to show the shadow, in all its shifting shapes, at work. She writes of the power of naming our own shadows, introducing us to two of her own, the Preacher and the Princess. And she uses both of them in shaping her book. The Princess, with her insistence on the importance of detail, got her way with the illustrations. And the Preacher lets loose with a major section, The National Shadow.

I'm grateful to Plumb for creating this book. It was a refresher for me, and a needed one. (It's the nature of the shadow to stay out of plain sight.) But I'd love to see the next edition available in a trade paperback from a national publisher at a lower price. It would be more enticing that way, and therefore more widely recommended, given, and read.

The Healing Muse is the annual journal of literary and visual art published by SUNY Upstate Medical University's Center for Bioethics & Humanities. This journal welcomes fiction, poetry, narratives, essays, memoirs and visual art, particularly but not exclusively focusing on themes of medicine, illness, disability and healing. I'm in distinguished company, for it's a thick journal filled with fine explorations and examples of the ways we live in and with our bodies.

Written as a section of my book, Knowing Bodies, a memoir of travel in Bali and through cancer, the opening paragraphs of Restoration follow.

RESTORATION
by Cecilie Scott

Eleventh floor: etched glass doors, art deco lounge, all quite tasteful. Magazines on the blond Parsons table, Vogue, Elle, New Yorker, an upscale selection replacing the non-selection of the lower level waiting rooms (Cancer Society brochures in Radiation in the basement, various Medical Center brochures in Oncology on two, outdated People magazines in Short Stay on five). And, wonder of wonders, windows through which we who wait can watch Seattle's pale November sun warm the gray buildings stepping down the hill to Elliott Bay. I assumed a wait and settled in, pulling a yellow pad from my backpack to note these distinctions and add this snarky comment to my journal, 'Clearly I have arrived.' (Like most patients, I tried to show a proper attitude.)

• The US destroyed a country, killed its people, wiped out its infrastructure.
• It's been established that the arguments used to justify the invasion were untrue, and were known to be untrue at the time of the invasion.
• The invasion and the continuing occupation were known to be unjustified at the time of the action.

Every time I raise this in conversation, someone asks how can reparations be paid when there is no functioning government.

Today Tim Grieve, in A surge for diplomacy in Salon' War Room (1/10/2007), pointed towards an answer:

Launching a series of hearings on the war in Iraq, members of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee were told by a panel of experts this morning that the only real hope for Iraq will come through international diplomacy -- or when the participants involved in sectarian violence decide that they've got more to gain by striking deals than by killing each other.

More to gain! What if those gains included reparations, US withdrawal, cancellation of any oil agreements signed during the occupation, closure of all US military bases, and turning over the monstrous US Embassy currently under construction in Baghdad to the Iraqi people? What if those gains were guaranteed by international diplomacy? Reparations would offer hope, respect, and recognition of Iraq as a sovereign nation. Reparations would go a long way toward healing a broken country.

In addition, the call for reparations would acknowledge US responsibility for the daily carnage. Too many pundits have been blaming the victim. Let's reframe the conversation.

The black flag
Of illegality
Flies over this war.
The black flag
Of mourning
Hovers over all of us.

It is being said
That we are a marginal group
That we are outsiders.
That the huge majority
Opposes all that we are doing.

And I say: Indeed.
We are outsiders. We are the few
Facing the masses that thirst for war.
But next month
Or next year
Every one of us will proudly proclaim:
I was here!
I called for a stop
To this accursed war!

And thousands who are cursing us now--
Next month, next year,
Will claim that they, too, were here,
That they, too, opposed this mad war.

From here,
On behalf of this demonstration,
I say to Ehud Olmert:
Stop this madness!
The war has gone to your head!
You are intoxicated by it!
You are a junky of war!
A war from which
Nothing good will come.
Stop, before it is too late!

From here,
On behalf of this demonstration,
I say to Amir Peretz:
Many of those here
Have voted for you. You have lied to them!
You have cheated them!
You pretended to be a social reformer,
You promised to take money from the army
And invest it in education and welfare.
Now you have become
A man of death and destruction,
You have become a monster!
Stop, before it is too late!

From here,
On behalf of the demonstration,
I say to Hassan Nasrallah:
You have carried out a dangerous provocation,
You have provided the warmongers with a pretext,
You have played their game.
Let us stop this right now!
Let us begin to negotiate--
Israel, Lebanon and Syria--
To exchange the prisoners,
To put an end to bombs and rockets.

From here,
On behalf of the demonstration,
I say to
Our Palestinian partners:
We have not forgotten you!!!
We know about the atrocities
That happen every day in Gaza
And the other occupied territories.
We must cooperate
In order to put an end to this war,
To exchange the prisoners,
To make peace between our two peoples.

From here,
On behalf of the demonstration,
I say to the Lebanese people:
As an Israeli,
I feel deep shame
For what we are doing to you!
For the devastation we have brought on you.
Deep shame!

When this madness
v Is finally over,
We shall struggle together--
Israelis and Palestinians,
Syrians and Lebanese,
Jewish and Arab citizens of Israel--
So that we can live a normal life,
Each in his free state,
Side by side
In PEACE!

Uri Avnery founded the Gush Shalom (Peace Block) movement in Israel. You can read his columns at the Gush Shalom -- Israeli Peace Bloc Web site. All of them are well worth reading, but the most powerful--and not to be missed--is The Great Experiment.

The federation employees are defenseless civilians. You cannot kill them as proxy targets to anyone. Moreover, it is wrong to reduce the federation's complex ties with Israel -- cultural, historical, religious -- to a single political act. The Seattle attack is a reprehensible crime. No one in his or her right mind would argue differently.

So why is it that the Israeli mainstream, and many Americans, condone the collective punishment-by-proxy of Palestinian civilians? Since January, the Israeli government has punished Palestinians for voting Hamas into power, by denying them money that is theirs and increasingly isolating them from the world. But Palestinian votes for Hamas must not be reduced to political support for certain racist clauses in its charter. The vote has many other aspects -- not least of which is the oppression Palestinians have suffered under Israeli military rule.

Since January, Palestinian suffering intensified, and Qassam rockets started flying into Israel again. IDF escalated its responses, kidnapping prisoners and causing dozens of Palestinian civilian deaths. This led to the June 25 kidnapping of an Israeli soldier. The IDF immediately destroyed Gaza's only power plant, demolished major bridges and completely sealed Gaza off from the world, stranding thousands of Palestinians on the Egyptian border in the sweltering heat. Eight civilians died while waiting to return, including a dehydrated baby.

In Lebanon, we see more of the same. After the Hezbollah raid that reignited the front, the IDF's chief of staff vowed to turn Lebanon "20 years back" -- in reference to the total destruction from civil war and the 1982 Israeli invasion. His words became reality, with the IDF bombing infrastructure across the land; for example, Beirut International Airport. According to Israel, the Lebanese deserve this for their leadership's failure to rein in Hezbollah.

Morally speaking, there is no difference between the death of Gaza civilians due to direct or indirect Israeli actions, the killing of eight Israeli Railways employees by a Hezbollah rocket that hit their Haifa depot, the killing of hundreds of Lebanese civilians by IDF airstrikes and Pamela Waechter's murder. All are murders of defenseless civilians, explained as political punishment-by-proxy.

Assaf Oron is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Washington. The PI article is an edited translation of an article that originally appeared on the Israeli news portal www.walla.co.il.