August 25th will mark the 70th anniversary of the Liberation of Paris during WWII. On that day, in a small office at the Gare Montparnasse, the German military commander of Paris, Dietrich Von Choltitz, signed the official surrender of his forces and spared Paris the street by street fighting that had completely destroyed the city of Caen in Normandy just a few weeks earlier.

But the surrender came at a price. Weeks of armed resistance by the people of Paris preceded the capitulation. Somewhere between 1000 and 1500 Parisians were killed in the fighting - and roughly an equal number of German soldiers. But it could've been much worse. 

Von Choltitz was a veteran of the Eastern Front - and was the commanding General at the siege of Sebastopol years earlier. During that battle the city had indeed been methodically reduced to rubble - and Von Choltitz had been brought to Paris by Hitler for the expressed purpose of repeating that experience should the Allies break-out of the Normandy battle area.

An Unlikely Hero Emerges
Once that breakout did occur in late July, Hitler began pressuring Von Choltitz to carry-out the systematic destruction of the 'City of Light', including the massacre of those who might dare to resist. 

But Von Choltitz had recently met face to face with Hitler in his East Prussian headquarters - and had left that meeting convinced that Hitler had become deranged and delusional. Von Choltitz knew the war was lost - and decided to implement Hitler's plan as slowly as possible in hopes that the Allied army would arrive before he was forced to fully carry out his destructive orders.

Things began to change rapidly, though, as the resistance organizations of Paris - most notably the Communists - initiated an armed uprising to take control of the city. Unbeknownst to the resistance leaders, Allied forces commanding General Eisenhower had already decided to bypass Paris after the Normandy breakout in-order to avoid getting bogged down in the street fighting he feared would delay their move toward Germany. 

However, the uprising by the citizens of Paris forced him to divert forces to the city to save it from a massive German counter-attack there, and the resultant destruction of the city.

Paris Saved
The uprising began on the 19th of August - and raged until Eisenhower released a French Armored division to enter the city on August 25th, giving the citizens the force they needed to crush the Germans. Fighting continued for several days - but in the end Von Choltitz chose to terminate the fight, and not submit Paris to the wishes of Hitler. 

As he walked through the Gare Montparnasse that day as a prisoner, he was spat upon by hundreds of angry Parisians. But little did they know that if not for his refusal to zealously follow Hitler's orders - Paris would've already been in ruins - and many, many thousands of her citizens would now be dead.

Today, you can still see evidence of the resistance battles all around Paris. Placards mark spots where resistance fighters fell - and many bullet scarred walls have been left as they were to serve as reminders of the bravery displayed during those August days so long ago. As you stare at those bullet-riddled walls, it seems as though the battle just ended, and you're compelled to stop for a moment - reflective and thoughtful.
As well we all should be.

For those of us fascinated and captivated by history in general, some of the most interesting things to see are the first maps created depicting any region. 

We're all used to seeing these old drawings with their rough geographical accuracy and sparsely filled-in areas as more and more of the "undiscovered" regions of the world came to be known.

Seeing for the First Time
Of course, we all know that each of these undiscovered regions were already populated at the time the Europeans first began to explore them, but for most of us that is where our knowledge of these areas ends; with the simple understanding that - yes - someone had already been there.

So it was an amazing experience for me the other day to see - for the first time in my life - a detailed map of exactly who was in the New World of the western hemisphere - and exactly where they were, long before the first European foot stepped onto these shores.

And not only do these maps show who and where these peoples were - but equally important, what their real names were. Not the names imposed on them by the butchered pronunciation and derisive attitude of the "discoverers" - but the names they actually called themselves. Their true identities.

Are We There Yet?
After my first ten minutes of perusing these maps for the very first time, I nearly had tears of joy in my eyes from the feeling of spiritual liberation they gave me. I felt as though a giant tarp concealing a deep and beautiful truth had finally been removed from a scene of indescribable beauty and richness. 

In fact, that is essentially what these maps signify; the first - as far as I'm aware - look any of us have ever had at a true and accurate map depicting what, and who had been in this land - before it was overrun, and changed forever.

And as I sat there, somewhat stunned that I was only now seeing this magnificence for the first time - I had to ask myself, is what replaced this richness better? Most modern people tend to look at things like this and then casually dismiss what was lost as the price of progress. But is that true?

Is what replaced that world, and others like it, progress? Progress is defined as the forward movement toward a destination. Is that what we have seen since Europeans changed this land, and erased these cultures forever? And if so - what exactly is this destination?

The question itself reveals the prejudice of perspective that came with the European conquest. Is more - better? Is the culture of money, and technology aimed at acquiring more money, really progress? 

Maybe. But as I stared at these maps, looked at the names revealed, and imagined the richness of the lives they lived, I was left with one haunting question. Progress for who?

These magnificent creations are the work of Mr. Aaron Carrepella, a self-taught map maker who after searching for them for years - and realizing they simply did not exist - created them himself. And in doing so, he has made one of the most significant contributions to American history ever. Ever. 

You can find his Maps of Tribal Nations here.

I recently went to see the new Spielberg film Lincoln. This is, of course, the sort of subject that really only appeals to a certain type of person. The majority of the audience, when I went, were definitely over 40, with that history buff glint in most of their eyes. A quiet, thoughtful audience that seemed to laugh at the same things I did, and sagely nod at the same points too.

I was struck by the depth and detail of this film. It demands a lot of the audience, and even though I thought I knew a good deal about Lincoln and the Civil War, as the movie progressed I steadily became aware that I didn't know as much as I thought I did. Oh, I  could keep up with the thrust of the story - but I could also tell that there was a lot of detail there that I just wasn't fully appreciating.

So I went out afterward and bought the Doris Kearns Goodwin book Team of Rivals, which reportedly served as a primary source for the script, and read it. It's a wonderful book, very rich in details about Lincoln as a politician and a man. And while the Civil War is delved into in some depth, almost none of the narrative is about battles - at least - not the military kind. But it is filled much detail of the political battles both before, and during the war. No one can finish this book without having gained a much greater appreciation for the role and significance of the politics during this time.

Two Giants Emerge
But what struck me the most about reading this book was the portrait of Abraham Lincoln as a real person, in a real time, that emerges from its more than 700 pages. By the time you reach the end, you've seen quite a journey of transformation unfold before your eyes. And it's a journey at once profound and sublime. One that affirms every hopeful feeling you've ever had for the possibility of human growth and personal development.

The book is filled with fascinating characters and personalities, completely captivating stories, and themes that leave you deep in thought hours after finishing many chapters. Names that are vaguely remembered suddenly become full formed figures that will never be forgotten. William Seward, Edwin Stanton, Salmon Chase, and on and on - they're all there. Each fully alive for your mind to meet.

But of all the relationships experienced in this book, none caught my imagination and fascination more that that of Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. They didn't meet until well into the Civil War, and that's almost certainly a good thing. Had they met as younger men, the odds are high that they wouldn't have been able to absorb each other like they did as more mature men.

Their story is quite interesting, and illustrative of not just the potential for intellectual and spiritual evolution in people, but of the very unique American form of that general human characteristic. Characteristics framed by culture and history. I will be writing more on this special relationship soon. Stay tuned. 

One of the most striking aspects of the film Lincoln is the attention that is given to the human relationships that impacted the course of the Civil War. There are wonderful scenes conveying the intimate intellectual connection between the President and Secretary of State Seward, along with several others, and we see the importance of these bonds in driving both the war, and the people involved, to new, usually unforeseen places.

With the 2nd inauguration of President Obama just completed, it set me to thinking about another Civil War relationship of note, and how it culminated at Lincoln's Second Inauguration in an episode that was unimaginable when he was first elected, a scant four years earlier. It was a rare moment of historical evolution made manifest in a flash, and more profoundly than any conscious attempt to do so would be likely to achieve.

A Harbinger of Change
Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln first met at the White House in the summer of 1863, when the abolitionist leader came to the White House to ask Lincoln to support equal pay for black Union soldiers, and to seek his condemnation of the summary execution of many captured black soldiers that was part of a new Confederate policy of treating Union POWs quite differently according to race.

Douglass was struck by how welcoming Lincoln was. "I was never more quickly, or more completely, put at ease in the presence of a great man than in that of Abraham Lincoln," he later recalled. Lincoln explained to Douglass that he was aware of both the unequal pay issue, and the Confederacy's criminal treatment of black prisoners, but had waited to publicly address these issues until black combat units had distinguished themselves in battle - as they recently had during several engagements. He thought that only then would white Northerners be receptive to a Presidential appeal for equality of treatment.

Douglass left feeling he'd learned a lot about the breadth of considerations great leaders must take into account before taking actions that seem like "no brainers" to outside observers. And he also left with the distinct sense that this man - Lincoln - possessed a "humane spirit" which drove all his actions. "I tell you I felt big there!" he said of their meeting.

A Sacred Effort
The two men met again just before the election of 1864. Lincoln feared he would lose and wanted Douglass to help in a campaign to get as many slaves as possible to leave their plantations before a new President would take over, and possibly retract the Emancipation Proclamation. They talked for hours.

Lincoln, of course, did not lose the election, and it was at the Inaugural Ball held at the White House that they saw each other for the last time. The inertia of racism, though, almost prevented this meeting. Guards stopped Douglass as he attempted to enter the executive mansion, telling him that their orders were to admit no "colored" people. 

Douglass had a white friend go inside and tell Lincoln that he was being denied entry. Within minutes word came that he - and any other blacks wanting entry - were to be allowed inside. This alone was an astounding development since, other than as servants, no blacks had ever been allowed into an inaugural ball before.  

As Douglass entered and stood in the grand ballroom amidst hundreds of other well wishers, Lincoln suddenly spotted him and said in a loud voice for all to hear, "Here comes my friend Douglass." As he reached the President, Lincoln clasped his hand and said, "I am glad to see you. I saw you in the crowd today, listening to my inaugural address; how did you like it?". Douglass, thinking it a rhetorical question, mumbled an appreciative bromide, and aware of the throng seeking the President's attention, began to move on.

Lincoln, though, stopped him from departing so hastily and said, "You must stop a little, Douglass; there is no man in the country whose opinion I value more than yours. I want to know what you thought of it?" There then passed a few moments in which the two men stood regarding each other - the throng around them now suddenly grown quiet - realizing that Lincoln was being completely sincere. Lincoln knew that Frederick Douglass, thus prompted, would speak his mind. Those listening knew this too.

Finally Douglass said in a loud, deep voice, "Mr. Lincoln - that was a sacred effort." Lincoln's face came alive with happiness. "I'm glad you liked it," he said, as the two men appreciatively looked deep into each other's eyes. And then the festivities continued.

Two Paths Crossed
Frederick Douglass had traveled a long path to that exchange. Having, on more than one occasion, questioned Lincoln's abilities and commitment to freedom, he now knew that this man had grown into a true friend, and a champion of racial justice. Whereas just a few years earlier such an exchange would've been an impossibility, the route they had both traversed to this night of triumph now made their words seem almost preordained. They had both matured and evolved into men that foreshadowed the emergence of an entirely new nation than the one they had both grown up in.

We are certainly still on that path toward the racial justice that each man so clearly perceived in the other that night. Tremendous achievements have been made, yet few would dispute that there is more work - more growing - to come. But what that brief public meeting signaled to all who witnessed it - then, and now - was that people really can learn, and grow. That evolution is about more than learning to walk on two feet, but also about learning how to live with each other - how to become humane - how to become one. And never has there been a more sacred effort than that.

                                                            

Message heard
Take the very title and first line of the French original: Minuit, chrétiens - c'est l'heure solennelle (Midnight, Christians - it is the solemn hour). Here we have a reminder - a call - a marking of a point at which things must change. The moment of action - for doing something has arrived. 

Whereas the English version begins: O holy night, the stars are brightly shining; a simple act of beholding - to remain kneeling.

The declaration Il voit un frère où n’était qu’un esclave - organic to the spirit of 1848 Europe - is an unimaginable inclusion in an American version of the same period.

And the difference in the two version's final exhortation could not be more striking. In English we have a sterile declaration: Christ is lord - praise his name forever. But in the original comes: Peuple, debout! Chante ta déliverance! (people, stand up! Declare your deliverance!) In one a hope to be saved - in the other a call to make it happen through human action.

Minuit, chrétiens is a manifesto - a demand - a call to activity. O holy night - a supplicant's plea - a submission - an admonition to wait.

It's interesting to note that the first singing of Minuit, chrétiens was followed within a year by a strident, purely secular observation that A spectre is haunting Europe; this from a pen that held "waiting" to be pure anathema. Is there really any doubt that this "spectre" is the power of kneeling transformed into standing? 

What is the message of Jesus Christ? Is it to merely behold him - or to heed his call, and to follow? One is done from the knees - the other while firmly on two feet. Is his an urging to meekly submit, or to embrace the power to act? Is it - as the last lines of O Holy Night proclaim - about his power - forever; or, as the final lines of Minuit, chrétiens suggest, of ours?

Merry Christmas.

A Night to Remember
Forty years have passed since that night in 1971. But for anyone who was around then - sports fan or not - the Ali versus Frazier fight is still clearly remembered. This was more than a boxing match. This was the culture war brought to life. No one was neutral on that night. Everyone not only backed one man or the other - but fervently so.

And how fitting that what turned-out to be the greatest boxing match in history took place in New York's Madison Square Garden. No other venue than the very epicenter of world sports could possibly have done justice to what was known before - and after - as the fight of the century. Few events so eagerly anticipated ever live-up to the hype. This one exceeded it.

I can still vividly remember my own sense of desolation after that fight. I had been for the "People's Champion". Muhammed Ali was returning to the ring after having been stripped of his title and barred from boxing because of his refusal to be drafted into the US Army during the Viet Nam War.  And not only that - but he was a Muslim. And not just any kind of Muslim - but a Black Muslim. Oh believe me, Muhammad Ali was just way too left - and way, way too Black for America's comfort zone. 

The anti-war movement was in full force. The counter-culture had emerged. The Black Liberation movement (as we then called it) was going full throttle. Nearly every issue of the most radical of all publications at the time - The Black Panther - featured a photo of the exiled Ali with the caption "The People's Champ". Nothing else needed to be said. We all got it. He was us. 

A Night to Forget
Joe Frazier was what we all thought we were trying to get away from. He was conservative, humble, deferential. In the black community at the time, everyone's parents liked Joe. But to us young, radical, paradigm challenging youth - Ali was mythic. We were embarrassed by Joe Frazier. We were inspire and proud of Muhammed Ali. And his victory over "the Man's Champion" was to be a very delicious - and rare - bit of cultural redemption for an entire generation. An entire world view.

Well, the rest - as they say - is history. Frazier went on to win that fight in dramatic fashion. Withstanding 14 1/2 rounds of unbelievable abuse until - through an unfathomable act of pure will - he knocked Ali down in the waning moments of the 15th and last round - and thereby won the title. And to us - Amerika had won - and the people had lost. 

More Us than We Knew 
Times have changed. And so have we. Older and wiser, as the saying goes. And the saying is right.
 
Joe Frazier died yesterday. And when I heard the news, I thought of that night so long ago - and I remembered my disappointment. And it was weird. The feeling now seemed foreign to me. 

The electricity of the age had long ago faded, and given way to the struggle we all wage. The struggle to survive, to grow, to prosper and be complete. And with each skirmish in that battle - I grew to understand - and appreciate - Joe Frazier more and more.

Here was a simple man - struggling against every barrier America could erect - for maybe the only goal worth struggling for; dignity. And as much as anyone in the history of sports - he had won that struggle. 

I didn't realize it then - but I do now; that his attainment of dignity was the real victor that night. And because of it - we all gained a little ground in our own pursuit of the same. 

Thanks Joe.

The Industrial Revolution has made the world a place the Ancients would have a hard time recognizing as the same planet they walked thousands of years ago. From electrical devices, to modern transportation, to global climate change - industry has changed everything. 

The quantity, quality, and speed of change in the post-industrial world is mind boggling. By any indices you wish to cite, life has changed more in the last 250 years than in the previous 5000. It's astounding.

And this week the World's population will reach 7 billion. SEVEN BILLION. As in People.

To throw that mind-numbing figure into context - consider these interesting facts:

• in the year 1700 the Earth's population was 600 million
• in 1800 it was 1 billion
• in 1930 it reached 2 billion
• in 1999 - 6 billion

In other words - it took over six thousand years to reach 1 billion. But it has taken only 12 years to go from 6 billion to 7 billion. And that trend will continue.

 Experts calculate the Earth's population will reach 10 billion by 2083; almost 20 years before the turn of the next century.

To give you an idea of how many a billion is - consider that 1 billion seconds ago it was 1789. And we've added that many people in just 12 years.

The question comes to mind - how many people can the world support? It's a complex discussion - but one thing is clear. But no matter how many the Earth can support, a lot of thought and planning will have to go into making sure so many people can live in a way that is acceptable. 

With 1 billion people currently living without access to clean water - how do we insure that the next billion won't just be added to that group? To say nothing of eliminating this problem altogether. And that's just one factor of many.

Two-thirds of the water used on Earth today goes toward agriculture. And the lion's share of that (statistics vary) is targeted at meat production in one way or another. Cattle eat grain - and it takes 16 pounds of grain to produce 1 pound of meat. And that takes a lot of water.

So one thing is definitely clear; the 10 billion people of 2083 will not be able to eat the way most Americans eat today. There just isn't enough water to produce that much meat. And so - the world's diet will have to change. Whether we want it to or not.

Seven billion is a milestone worthy of noting; both for it's absolute quantity and the speed at which we reached it. And frankly, it's a little unsettling. 

It seems obvious that unless human societies begin to drastically and quickly change how we approach human organization on Earth - the tipping point at which unforeseen affects start to overwhelm the impact of conscious interventions will be reached - and soon.
 
And that's a little scary.

Nothing is simple about history. Every angle of perspective is at once true - and hopelessly incomplete. Every discovered detail a window - in a labyrinth. 

Yet, is-spite of this, plateaus of understanding exist. Could've been and should've been ultimately give way to is. 

But oft times the is of now does more to mask the impact of was than anything else. The Sacred Valley of the Inca is filled with what was. 

And, in many ways, little of what now is seems organically connected to it; and often even less of it seems to have changed at all. Both perspectives are true; neither is complete.

Time and being
The conquest of the Inca by the treasure hunting Spaniards was a tragedy to some - an essential bridge to others. The ancient civilizations of every continent were always doomed to be absorbed into each other. 

Like the seasons themselves, a pattern of contact and assimilation has been followed for as long as time has existed. It could never be otherwise. The only constant - is change.

Yet, as nature herself is now demonstrating, this process, these seasons, are far from abstract; anything but neutral. There is a path to history, a direction. There are results. There is a destination.

Arrival at ourselves
The Sacred Valley is haunted with ancient paths and themes. If for no other reason, the physical juxtaposition of ancient and contemporary serve to constantly throw our now into the contrasting shadow of was. 

And that constant tension permeates the atmosphere; is present in every interaction, both physical and cerebral. More so than most places. And it is special because of that.

So we walk the paths; ruminate about the themes. Our journeys become struggles within ourselves - to see ourselves - to know ourselves. We look for what we think we have yet to learn - and we more often than not see truths we feel - but somehow still don't know.

So we keep looking.

Joschka Fischer is one of those type of public figures whose personal narrative seems stranger than fiction. How does someone go from a violent, far-left militant, to eventually becoming the Foreign Minister of Germany? It's just not the normal path to success in the industrialized world.  And - just not normal - is a perfect way to view both the man and his recent introduction, via film, to San Francisco.

The Berlin & Beyond Film Festival is currently running at what is perhaps America's most un-normal movie venue, the Castro Theater. Friday saw the screening of director Pepe Danquart's "Joschka & Mr. Fischer" and seldom have a film subject and screening location been more alike. Both completely unique, both impossible to forget.

The film follows the evolution of one Joseph Martin Fischer, an ethnic German originally from Hungary, who has always been known by the Hungarian nickname Joschka. Born in 1948, to follow his story is, in many respects, to follow the story of post-war Germany. 

Starting out as the politically conservative son of a small town butcher, Joschka goes from being a Marxist leftist, to working class drop-out, to depressed taxi driver, before reinventing himself as a Green Party activist and step by step evolving into the person who becomes an icon of the modern German state.


And what's both fascinating and encouraging is watching how he remains true to himself throughout. His journey is not a study in being corrupted, but rather one of  true, meaningful growth; the path to maturity and wisdom. Both for him, and for the society that spawned him.

His arrival in the mainstream of modern politics and society says as much about the development of post-war Germany as it does about him. Both evolved toward each other and in doing so, both grew-up.

The Normalcy of Unique
So it was somewhat ironic to see his story first presented to American audiences in The Castro Theater. After all, their stories are so similar in some ways. 

Both emerged from the margins of social respectability and normalcy to become uniquely (and somewhat quirkily) central to a new social milieu. And in the process, a newness emerged from the melding that reflects a symbiosis, despite its unlikely genesis. 

To walk into the Castro Theater is to both step back in time and simultaneously arrive at the very cutting edge of social modernity. 

The theater is like a living time capsule. From the art deco design of the building itself, to the opulently decorated interior and large viewing screen, the Castro just oozes tradition. 


Yet so truly does it hold to tradition that it winds up being completely unique for it. Here is the only theater left (anywhere??) with a real organ that rises on an elevated platform from beneath the stage to treat the waiting audience to 20 minutes of live music before each film. If you want to know what a movie going experience was like in earliest days of film, come to the Castro.


And no ordinary films ever play in this most extraordinary venue. The Castro survives by showing vintage, cult, and contemporary avant-garde film festival material.

Rebels with a Cause
So it all seemed so fitting, the match of Joschka with the Castro. Two rebels who had triumphed over their outcast status. And through their processes of evolution, both demonstrated how our modern societies and cultures have changed too. By absorbing these outcasts through their maturity and growth, society has demonstrated its own.

It seemed as though both were messengers that night; the theater and the man.  Beacons signaling that the best of life is tied to the fullness of life. That there is no us or them; no normal nor abnormal. There is only us. And that perspective is everything. The broader it is - the more real it is. And what's real, works.

Joschka found this out. And so did San Francisco. 

600 Years of Solitude
The rediscovery of the Inca city of Machu Picchu is officially recognized as taking place in 1911 when Hiram Bingham stumbled on the site while looking for the lost city of Vilcabamba. Of such good fortune are many careers made.

Other Western explorers had also been to the site, but their goal had been to plunder, not to study. Bingham, on the other hand, returned to the site in 1912 at the behest of Yale University and the National Geographic Society for the express purpose of documenting the find and conducting research. He is thus credited with the discovery, exactly 100 years ago.

That Machu Picchu was still there to find is somewhat of a miracle. The city had been essentially abandoned a few decades before the arrival of the Spanish Conquistadors, and as a result, was never discovered by them. 

If they had discovered it, there would probably be a big Catholic cathedral there now instead of the essentially intact remnants of an Incan civilization. At the very least, it would've been completely destroyed for being pagan, as the Spanish had done to every other indigenous site they discovered anywhere in the Americas. Of such good fortune are miracles born.

The End - and Beginning of Plunder
This discovery not only revealed Machu Picchu to the world, but it also prevented treasure hunters from continuing to steal items from the site. Or so it seemed. 

However, during the years immediately following Bingham's discovery, thousands of priceless artifacts were removed by the explorer himself and shipped to Yale University in the United States; ostensibly on loan for purposes of research.

The only thing is, the loaned items were never returned, despite repeated demands for such by the government of Peru. At first Yale took the position that Peru, as a third-world nation, could not be trusted with the priceless artifacts and simply refused to honor their earlier pledge to return them. As far as Yale was concerned, that was the end of the discussion; forever.

Ultimately, The National Geographic Society, who had also been part of the original agreement, declared their support for Peru's ownership of the artifacts and began to pressure Yale to relent and return their treasure. Meanwhile, the Peruvian government began legal action in US courts to force the return.

In the face of this double effort, Yale simply stopped talking. As far as they were concerned, the discussion was over.

Feliz Cumpleaños
But late last year former Peruvian President Alan Garcia appealed directly to President Barack Obama to intervene on Peru's behalf. And with Obama, Garcia was preaching to the choir. 

Within two weeks of that appeal, Obama summoned Yale representatives to the White House and shortly thereafter Yale announced that they would indeed - at long last - return all of the more than 40,000 "borrowed" artifacts to Peru.

That process is now underway. The first shipment, containing all of the museum quality pieces, arrived in Peru earlier this year to great fanfare. Eventually, these pieces will be displayed in the Inca Museum at the Casa Concha in Cusco.
Happy birthday Machu Picchu!

Below are some photos I recently took at Machu Picchu.