Today a friend changed his cover photo on Facebook, and I am angry about it.
Why? Because the photo is mine. The friend is tagged in the picture and had access to it through my albums, but he didn’t ask to use it.
Given that several other people have used my photos for their own profile pictures without asking my permission (at which I was pleased), and that I’ve given permission for this and other photos in the set to be used in promotional material, why do I have my proverbial knickers in a twist over this particular cover photo?
I don’t know. It’s the friend’s personal page? I’ve grown more attune to how copyright can be infringed?
The photo in question isn’t under a Creative Commons license; it is in a Facebook album on my personal page with the permissions set to specific people. In fact, I’m not sure what the licensing is! (Note to self: read user agreements!) Normally, when a photo is shared, Facebook links it back to the original poster – the user interface makes sure credit is given where credit is due. Not so with cover photos or profile pictures.
Obviously, if I wanted to be fastidious about it, I’d ask all my friends to give me photo credit for each shot they use, especially if that shot is publicly visible. The drawback is that policing usage would zap my time and energy.
I’m not sure what to say or not to say about the cover photo. Add being confused to being hurt and angry.
In the wake of General Convention, there have been several articles in various news outlets either bashing or defending the Episcopal Church. Chronologically, and for my own reference:
What Ails the Episcopalians
Jay Akasie, The Wall Street Journal, July 12, 2012
Rum, sodomy and the cash: The Episcopal Church 2012
George Conger, GetReligion, July 13, 2012
What ails the Wall Street Journal: Error-laden opinion on Episcopalians
Scott Gunn, Seven Whole Days, July 13, 2012
Wrong on Every Count
Kirk Smith, Arizona Bishop, July 13, 2012
Can Liberal Christianity be Saved?
Ross Douthat, The New York Times, July 14, 2012
The Glorious Episcopal Church
Winnie Varghese, The Huffington Post, July 16, 2012
God and Gays
Jon Meacham, Time, July 16, 2012
Is liberal Christianity signing its own death warrant?
Becky Bratu, NBC News, July 19, 2012
Episcopal Church is Radically Faithful to Its Tradition
Stacy Sauls, The Wall Street Journal, July 19, 2012
How much I must criticize you, my church and yet how much I love you! You have made me suffer more than anyone and yet I owe you more than I owe anyone. I should like to see you destroyed and yet I need your presence.
You have given me much scandal and yet you alone have made me understand holiness. Never in the world have I seen anything more obscurantist, more compromised, more false, yet never have I touched anything more pure, more generous or more beautiful.
Countless times I have felt like slamming the door of my soul in your face – and yet, every night, I have prayed that I might die in your arms!
No, I cannot be free of you, for I am one with you, even if not completely you. Then too – where should I go? To build another church?
But I cannot build another church without the same defects, for they are my own defects. And again, if I were to build another church, it would be my church, not Christ’s church. No, I am old enough. I know better!
— Carlo Carretto, Love Letter to the Church
Carlo Carretto (1910-1988) was a leader in Italian “Catholic Action” and served as National President of Catholic Youth from 1946 to 1952. At the age of forty-four he heard the call of God to go into the desert of the Sahara. There he joined the Little Brothers of Jesus of Charles de Foucauld.
For the first time since Lent began, low mass is held in the chapel. Although the Garden was cleaned out on Sunday afternoon, the fountain and its contents remain.
I nab Father Rector before he puts his laptop down. “I need your help to move the fountain.”
I cut the rope securing the fountain to the wall and unplug the extension cord. “Fortunately, I put this together. It’s in two pieces, so we better move it from the base.”
We wrestle the fountain toward the nave. “Where are we going to put this?” Father Rector asks.
“I was thinking under the St. Paul icon.”
“How about next to the pulpit?” Father Rector shoves the base in that direction. “It can be another holy water stoop.”
I try to light the Paschal Candle with a taper, but the wick is eight feet in the air and doesn’t cooperate. Father Rector comes looking for me. I take the Candle out if its stand, put the base on the floor, and light a match.
“There is more than one way to bring the Light of Christ into the world.”
Photo credit: Allison Winter
Gym, since I didn’t go yesterday. Only 1.75 miles by the time I cooled down, but a lot of core, balance, and upper body work.
Thursday, I talked to two young women (early 20s?), recommended they foam roll after ZUMBA, and showed them how. One didn’t have enough core strength to hold herself up while the roll was under her shoulders, and it lodged itself under her neck instead. She couldn’t (or wouldn’t, I’m not sure) muster enough strength to lift her torso and put it right.
It’s an image of what I was. A few weeks ago when I was working on the TRX, I got my ankles into the straps and basically belly flopped before and after pushing myself onto my hands. When I started, I could barely knock out a handful of crunches, couldn’t balance, couldn’t … Every move builds on the last, and I’m amazed how far I’ve come.
When I’m on my own, my workouts are a mixed bag depending on what needs doing. The idea is to avoid static and boring. Lately, I’ll experiment, max out to see how far I can take it. Crunches at 120, oblique crossovers at 400. Push ups stop at 10, simply because I lose form. There’s no point in doing it if you do it wrong, but my upper body needs work. More strength, more stability. In side plank, I moved from resting on my forearm to resting on my palm, but for shorter periods. I get wobbly and destabilize. I’m not sure yet how to cure what ails plank. My hips are consistently too high, especially the left. But when I drop them, my spine crunches uncomfortably, too.
Each move builds on the last.