neutrality

I went to a seminar a couple of days ago about interpreting for domestic abuse cases in the courts. I made a comment/question but found myself floundering. It is the scariest place for interpreters to go, accuracy and spirit do not always go hand in hand. It is exactly in that no-man's-land where you will find me.

I wrote this to the coordinator of the seminar today. I've been in this field for almost 9 years. This email is going out to about 30 people
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Hola,
I really enjoyed the seminar, it was informative and well-presented.
The point I was struggling to make was basically about that "grey" area that we often find ourselves in. I understand the reluctance to talk about this openly, it is an especially hard subject to broach and still come across as a credible representative of our profession. I wrote the following a couple of months ago:

I take great pride in the quality of attention that I give providers and patients, yet I realise that it's like the old adage "the more I know, the less I know". The more aware I become of the dynamics of the patient/provider interaction I'm involved in, the more the subtle shifts become glaring. When a patient tells me something they don't want the doctor to hear it's easy to know what to do, but to pick up on a hesitation, turn of phrase, choice of words, body language, pause, conveying every and any detail of their presence in the room becomes an ever-growing challenge. OK, so we shouldn't get too obsessed with finding meaning where none is intended, but my question remains, "does greater experience and expertise permit a smoother transmission of surface meaning, or does one delve deeper? Both? Discussion over.
What of mentally-ill patients? Am I inviting a very certain insanity into my psyche!? In our team of 10 interpreters I would volunteer for the difficult, challenging, confusing cases because of my fascination with that edge, that border between sanity and insanity, light and dark, intention and expression.
As an example: The presentation of the (health care) provider is crucial, merely "transferring" information is not enough. I do not mean that modification of the message is necessary, but our stance (subtle or blatant) toward the provider can make a huge difference in, for example, how much faith the patient has in them. Without faith, compliance is highly unlikely. The patient may well feel they wasted their time and money and though the diagnosis and treatment plan could have been spot-on, the outcome is uncertain if the patient [senses the interpreter doesn't subscribe to the provider's opinion. So their condition worsens. Likewise, if the interpreter lets slip a mere hint of judgment or disbelief towards the patient, then the patient will most likely censor their story, leaving out any contentious projections, which may well hold the key to understanding their condition. 
What is remarkable to me, is that an intense, profound interview can hinge on a moment of distraction or emotional response on the part of the interpreter. I'm talking about split-seconds, the intricacies of self-control. Details? YES! For the majority, for the millions of people that have no clue what we do, it is pointless. Yet, time and again, glazed looks, or awkward silence are the response from fellow professionals] felt unacknowledged or if the interpreter's stance cast doubt on the provider's ability. This is barely the tip of the iceberg...

I am also aware of how I have little or no practical knowledge of the court setting, but in a discussion about domestic abuse, intense emotions naturally arise and personal bias (e.g. good intentions) can be very damaging. Some day I would like to hear (more) experienced interpreters discuss this. Of course, the answer is always going to be the same, to remain neutral, but what of spirit? Spirit?

yes I love Obama as much as the next (discriminated)man, but remember people, the only difference between republicans and democrats is how fast they run to suck on the teat of the capitalist war machine. Viva El Sendero Luminoso, Viva Mao!!!

Tom Morello

The Nightwatchman uttered

"Nobody wins unless we all win"

riding for a burger

another epic ride with Raul ("Alcala"!?)

116miles, 6h24m, 18.1mph avg

sunny and 70(?) in November!

Gateway Trail to Pine Point, Raul caught fire at this point, tailwind sustained 28mph for 10 miles, barely hung on, Norell to Scandia, Lindstrom, Eichten's bison burger warshed down with a Fat Tire, odd van with a "BULDORF" licence plate, complete with horns and bollocks, Taylor's Falls, St Croix Falls, WI, down 35 to Somerset, WI, Stillwater, Myrtle, back to Gateway, then straight home...boogered

sunset, the clouds on the western horizon had an orange rim, reminded me of a mountain range, always dreaming of the Andes and the Alps and the Himalayas, where heaven is so much closer rarified air, stratified bears

and descending, aach, so blessed

All Saints, spirits no longer hindered by earthly forms

last word, or sound

When I came back from Peru I listened to my answeruiing machine and the first message I heard coudln'rt make otu who it was or even if he said anything, seemed like he was trying to say something but couldn't
I listened to it over and over, then erased it, uneasy
My mum came to visit on Oct 9th. We were talking about Tio Roddy and she mentioned he'd called her the day he died
she also told me she'd looked at his last phone bill and that he had also called me that day.
Que quiciste decirme querido Tio? "me estoy muriendo?" un consejo mas? la verdad?

seasons

Yesterday rode in a memorial ride for the 4 cyclists killed in the Twin Cities in the last couple of weeks. Broke off for a couple of hard-riding hours with Raul, met up with Doug and Nate. Connected with the ghostbikeride again at Gold Medal Park. Unite Bike Photo (I'm to the left, near the back). Finished in Blaine with the delivery of the last of 4 ghost bikes. Started with hundreds, finished with a dozen or so. We were met by Dale Aaneson's family, who were deeply grateful and ready to share their grief with us. One of his brothers told me of their childhood on a farm in Magnolia, MN, shared pieces of his memory with me, how they were 6 brothers, how they recently went back to their childhood home and slept in the rooms they grew up in. Tears welling up in my eyes (again).
How to show my gratefulness?
A beautiful, poignant day.
today, mijita almost lost her will to go on

arqueologia del alma

languishing in language
hint
sueltate, pero no te hundas
y acuerdate que el tiempo es ciclico
no linear
entonces, hay algo que importa?

palabra de quien?

grief, and hope

Last week Hector (Nik) died, on his bike, struck by a truck whose driver didn't even see him, or feel him.
Yesterday was his funeral. I went to support Jessie, one of his closest friends, and hoping to give my condolences to Cristina. She stood out, for the intensity of her grief, older sister, his only blood relative, both adopted in Colombia by a Minnesota couple, who did them more harm than good.

"She lost the only person who ever gave her unconditional love" was what her closest friend told me.

Hard to explain how I came to be there, witness to her grief and despair and to her friends' concerns.

Today I called her to ask her how she's doing, as if I didn't know, but more to let her know I've been thinking about her, and to lend an ear.

Someday the things that you miss and grieve for will also bring a smile, but not yet.

Desquitate, sueltate pero ten fuerza y no te hundas, no te pases...quierete y no te culpes

The last time I had seen her was riding bikes on the Greenway, over a year ago. I called out to her "aren't you Nik's sister?", we talked for the first time, told me how she felt bad that she hadn't called him for a while, they weren't as close since she had sought refuge outside their adoptive "family". Hesitant at first (haven't I learnt not to meddle?) I ventured to suggest that she call him, that I knew he needed her. (did i really know? how!?)
When we spoke tonight she told me how she started calling him regularly after that, many times a week, and though it had bothered her a bit that I had said it to her, that she was glad I did because it brought them closer.

they shared laughter, dreams and hopes for the future,
now he's gone

I could barely hold back the tears when she told me this, when I put the phone down I started sobbing, and now again, just thinking about the love I have received and the hope that I never quite lost
thanks to you
and Spirit

Sept 2011
Jessie told me recently that she and Nik had actually been married, that they were more than soul- mates...

misti

de vuelta en Arequipa
subi al Misti, al menos hasta donde pude
ida y vuelta en 6 horas
las piernas me arden, los pies apenas los siento
el alma, pues, que te digo

¡Viva los Andes!
baje hasta Los Balcones del Misti
me subi a un combi
me baje en la Plaza de Armas
un colibri con sus alas zumbando

la peruanidad

spasm
mi tio murio el dia antes de llegar a verlo
lo vi, pero ya en su ataud
y luego en el incinerador
las llamas lo envolvieron
seguidas por el tronar del porton que bajo, nunca mas vere su carne
su alma esta aqui
duermo en su cama, a veces sollozando, o sonriendo
pronto me ire de esta casa, un casco que ya no es hogar

"eight"

riding frantically to work, again

enlightened?

an even more frantic fellow standing at the corner of lake and cedar, huge eyes, gesticulating wildly at the passing cars pointing at his wrist

his invisible watch

surreal, so real

as i ride by he asks me

"what time is it?"

no time for philosophical discourse on the meaninglessness of it all, just enough to say

"eight"

but in fact it was 07:58:23 CST, just one minute thirty seven seconds to get to work

i can still see his eyes

it's all in the eyes, as you know

amistades del camino

En San Pedro de Atacama conoci a un chico llamado Falko. Poco despues decidimos andar al Valle de la Luna y acampar alli. Conversamos!! acerca de la vida y el universo y la alegria y la tristeza. Alma a alma. Creo, temo, que no he vuelto a abrir mi corazon como lo hice esa noche, hace 15 años, no asi.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gy5K0DaeDxM

cry deep, laugh deeper

edge

and then something clicks

wisdom over innocence?
no point in yearning for a return to the days of old, but we can certainly learn to let go of thoughts, distorted and others, which hold us back and keep us in turmoil

what happens when we stop questioning when questioning was the primary tool of discovery?

questions about questions, like a dog chasing his tail

enough, enough

it's all about heart...need to strip away the artifice, cerebral constructs (mad scientists) which only lead us from one cul-de-sac to another

so, how to go back to HEART, without getting lost in the process

and that is where i'm at, the words
words are lacking
dissolving into a pool of emotions
and trying to get lost
in a good way
i love the feeling of being lost
with the edge of fear
and encroaching darkness which inevitably, inexorably leads to the light
edge

eloise butler

walking, wildflowers
enchanted by eyes, green
never before seen
or known
amidst the verdant woods
mystic
momentous

redwood

driving along
alone in the northern california redwoods,
heading to eureka and the lost coast, 1996?
eerie, moonlit ancient trees

can barely hear the radio, for lack of reception
barely can hear barb schloff... "waiting for you"
half a song, heard once, and tonight again after 12 years

soultakenreturnedsearchedburnedburningstill
cenizas
acompañametomamimanohermanahermano

self-knowledge

once
self-knowledge and self-loathing
were one and the same
distorted thoughts
"never again will I want something so badly that I would be devastated not to get it"
delicate devastation is barely the beginning
come OOON

running, running away

I question my own judgment at all times, at least in retrospect!, but feel particularly vulnerable at the moment. I am trying to nurture this vulnerability (for I can no longer be an innocent ingenu, naive) in general, and particularly in matters of the heart. Cynicism and "logic" have not served me so well over the years, I've hardly grown.

I'm now caught between that raw vulnerability and the incessant questioning of EVERYTHING

foreveeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

From a description of a film

two old men digging their own future graves, "it's funny how you think you might live forever right up until the last moment"

salve

no ironman this year, still, a century's a century

snow and sleet, bitter cold

sundog over lake calhoun, blissing

about to pass out now, goodnight

went a little further than my body could take, given the conditions, perhaps

me cuenta mi tia Beria

un recuerdo olvidado, perdido...

dormido, medio destapado

viene mi tia y me cubre bien denuevo con la frazada

y me da una palmadita en el pie que, siempre, cuelga a un lado de la cama

yo suspiro, ondamente

y sigo durmiendo

montando en la lluvia

la tormenta trae lluvia denuevo, no mas nieve
la noche entra suavemente
la luna canta, susurrando en la niebla

sweet pain

"love being in love"
significa que las imagenes (falsas?) de un amor doloroso, de un dolor amoroso
ya no me sirven
descubriendo lo que siento, mas no lo que pienso
and, no more sweet pain

the first breath

healing is a lifelong process

when did this lifetime begin?

ever thus, bursting at the seams

pero esta bien, ahora, corazon, es el momento de voltearme de adentro hacia afuera y descubrir lo que debo descartar

y conservar

diferencia

la di da

entre inspiracion y desesperacion,

como decia Lao Tzu?

southerly

I am moved
wind shifts, stiff southerly
the heart perdures, firm, yet fluttering

c'mon

come on out SUN

dejanos ver tu sonrisa

draum

planting, or transplanting, a huge old tree
and many smaller, younger ones around it
the ground is (surprisingly) brittle
a large hole amongst the roots of the large tree
i go to put a stump in it
but it falls through into a cavernous space beneath
it's beautiful down there
rock formations remind me of living beings,
oneness of soul
interconnected, they go on for as far as i can see
a world within the world
dreams within dreams
love being in love, the memory of it, the reality of it
if it was once, then it always will be

fulfilling

to decide what level of intimacy i really want

or need.

so simple

on the (proverbial) edge of town, is there any?

a chasm

yawning open
inviting me to leap
or do I go back to the comfort of what I know?
or stay still until it closes up again and I can pretend I never saw it

LEAP

into the arms of my angels and demons

the intent of EVERYTHING

what is it, intent, the intent?
como es el olor a miedo?
quienes somos, sin recuerdos? y sin palabras?
alguien, algo? seremos mas, o menos?

thank you for inspring that feeling, fortunate, blessed, which precedes and endures beyond our mere existence

creation

mitad

we but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents

emerson

raw

roar

fire

cuckoo

llanto

canto

suplicar

tenue

carecer

encantos de la vida
la risa de un niño
el cariño de una tia
la comprension de un desconocido.
suspiro otra vez
con amor

all for one

aching, yes
and so alive
raw
a vision of humanity, yes, and all living things
as the flammable ball that is the sun,
we are all ONE flame
a lick here, a burst there
rejoicing
leaping away only to be engulfed
flickering only to roar again

i will listen to you

Last night, as i was falling asleep, i read the following

Since the soul is dynamic and evolving, it needs the energy of an intact spirit to propel it toward its potential. To heal the spirit and keep it strong, and to achieve harmony, we need to work toward becoming fully conscious. This means taking responsibility for our thoughts and actions, and working to heal our wounds so that we can remember ourselves and see the bigger picture. Doing these things helps to create a light spirit that can more easily find its way to divine Spirit because it can actually see God's light and be drawn to it.

Elena Avila

hide and seek (2)

la primera cita que interprete hoy fue de una niña de 7 años que no habla en la escuela, si hay algo que quiere decir lo escribe en papelitos
pero en casa habla mucho
entre otras cosas, la mama preocupada le pregunta al doctor porque podria ser (!)
el doctor mira a la niñita, y le pregunta "es que tienes miedo?"
ella responde, apenitas, labios secos, mirando a su mama, "si"
el doctor le pregunto "cual es tu juego favorito?"
las escondidas
casi llore
el resto de la cita interprete bien, normal, pero paso como un sueño, o trance

The first appointment I interpreted in today was for a 7 year old girl who doesn't speak in school, if she wants to say something she scribbles it on little pieces of paper
yet at home she's always talking
amongst other things, her worried mum asks the doctor what she thinks is the reason (!)
the doctor turns to the little girl and asks her "are you afraid?"
she responds, barely audible, lips dry, looking over at her mother, "yes"
"what's your favourite game?" he asks
hide and seek
I almost cried
I continued to interpret, fine, normal, but the rest of the appointment was like a dream, or trance

mantuve mi postura profesional, como tantas otras veces,

para que?

professional posture maintained, like so many other times,

but why?

frescura

for in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed
Kahlil Gibran

from "a place in space"

by Gary Snyder

TO SEE

a wren in a bush,

call it wren, and go on walking

is to have (self-importantly) seen

nothing. To see a bird and to stop,

watch, feel, forget yourself for a

moment, be in the bushy shadows,

maybe then feel wren - that is

to have joined in a larger

moment with the world