Yep, have been away a while. Sorry. Life sometimes gets in the way of blogging. We deal with it. Last time I posted I was trying to get caught up at work in anticipation of a little early October jaunt to Mexico. Life has gotten plenty interesting since my return. How interesting? Nice of you to ask...
Now that the government has posted a travel advisory for U.S. citizens considering trips to Mexico, it only makes sense that I'd develop a hankering to go. In my visit last month, I enjoyed running the roads with gangsters and Federales, I've decided to make it a long term project. Really? Well, no, not really. Well, sort of. Hmmmm...
Okay, so here's the deal. I've been sitting behind a desk hunting heads with a fair amount of success for more than four years now. Prior to this, I've never sat in one place or worked for any employer other than myself for more than two years. Ever.Well, okay, I carried a weapon for Uncle Sam for three years, but we weren't sitting still in one place, believe me. So, yeah, maybe I'm a little bit stir crazy, but coping. Ya know? Then, a couple of months ago, my cell phone begins vibrating one morning...
"Hey, what are you up to these days?" greets my former client. "Still headhunting," says me. "How's that going?" says he. "Okay," says me. "Interested in looking at a project in Mexico for me?" he asks. "Tell me a little bit about it..."
So I bounced it around with the spouse, dickered terms with the client, spent a week down getting the lay of the land, determining viability, communing with my friend the sea, and convincing myself it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Didn't take a lot of convincing...
So, today was my last day as a full time headhunter. I told the bosses I'd stay on a "as time allows" straight commission basis to wrap up a few projects ongoing and help train my replacement, if they can find one. Meanwhile, I'm going full immersion into the Rosetta Stone, boning up on Mexican land law, water law, formalized graft system, political undercurrents, etc. Dealing with title companies, engineers, surveyors, Mexican government officials, lawyers, shysters and con men. Will be developing an off-the grid seaside community along one of the most beautiful beach fronts in the world, playing daily in the body of water Jacques Cousteau deemed "the world's aquarium." Am I pumped? Really? Oh, yeah...
This is going to be about as big a lifestyle transition as I've ever encountered - going from the predictable structured 5:30 to the gym, 9-6 work day, AA meetings on Friday evening and Saturday morning, Sunday bike ride... to setting my own schedule, traveling incessantly, intensive periods of 18 hour workdays followed by leisurely weeks off, finding an AA group in San Felipe (just looked it up - its there) and connecting with a whole new group of friends in recovery. Comfort zone? What comfort zone? Yikes!
But really, yes, I am pumped. And not least because this is the first one of my hair-brained adventures that I've actually cleared in advance with my family. Did I forget to mention I can be an asshole? Oh, sorry about that. Innocent slip...
But yes, the family is excited, too. We've all begun earnestly planning our escape from the increasingly rancid atmosphere of red state Texas, and perhaps Los Estados Unidos as well, as our native country does seem to be taking an ugly turn that might really be more unpleasant than we care to face at this point in our lives. Worst case scenario, we wind up fully transplanted to a seaside oasis where the sun greets us from across a sparkling sea each morning and bids us farewell in the evenings as it slips away over the adjacent purpling mountains. Best case, America doesn't fall apart, and we split time between some civilized state like Colorado during the blistering summer months, and winter at our Mexican getaway.
And in either case, I come away fluent in the Spanish language, expert in navigating the Mexican bureaucratic process, fully conversant in a culture I've lived alongside my entire life without sharing so much of its beauty, and newly versed in foreign building and living practices alien to the average American. And I'll have a whole new slew of friends with whom to fight the pull of the jugo del agave...
Bienvenido a mi vida loca!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Three Squares and a Cot
So, for some reason I pulled The Life of Pi off the bookshelf last night and started rereading it. For most people, there would be nothing strange in that. For me, though, it’s more than a little weird. You see, I was raised in a reading household. My father, the electronic engineering wizard who could build a short-wave radio out of a Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco can, a coat hanger and a few pennies, didn’t have much use for television. Ours gave out during JFK’s funeral procession, and I think we got our next one sometime around Watergate. Dad could have fixed it – repaired others’ sets and our hi-fi and all sorts of gizmos with vacuum tubes, capacitors, resistors and whatnot – but not our television.
So we read. A lot. And I’ve never knowingly read the same book twice, with the possible exception of To Kill a Mockingbird. So my voluntarily picking up The Life of Pi is actually significant. I think. Maybe…
No, I’m not going to do a review for you here. If you can read this blog then you can get yourself over to a library or the discount book store or Amazon or wherever you get your reading materials, buy the darn thing and read it yourself. And I strongly recommend you do. I digress…
So, I’m sitting on the throne meditating this morning (figures of speech both) and reading my book, when I ran across an early passage I didn’t recall from my last go round, which was admittedly several years ago. Did I mention that I pretty much remember in a very hazy way virtually every book I’ve ever read? Well, I do. I never remember the author or the title, but if I inadvertently pick up a previously read tome – within a couple of pages I will remember not only that I read it, but generally about when, and the whole story line. I have always been that way and sometimes find it a little disconcerting. It’s funny, actually, because I am one of the most forgetful people you’d ever want to meet, and yet I seem unable to fully forget anything I’ve ever read. The wife reminds me when I pick up something I’ve already read, because she knows I value efficiency, and that I’ll be back up out of bed and returning it to the bookshelf within five minutes once I’m made the discovery myself. Crazy, huh?
Dammit, I digressed again. Sorry…
Anyhow, Pi, the main human character in the story, was the son of a zoo keeper, and he delivers a pretty thought provoking exposition on the lives of animals in the wild and in captivity, and ties it back to humans just a bit, leaving me, the reader, to carry the thought a step farther. His contention is that modern zoo critics, PETA and others, are all wrong about zoos, animal happiness, and so forth. He suggests that wild animals need, rather than want, a certain amount of territory, because it takes that much territory to provide sustenance and security. I’m not a wildlife expert by any stretch, but it makes sense to me. For instance, jungles are teaming with wildlife in great concentration, precisely because there is an abundance of food and water, the relative security that comes with adequate cover, and the unit strength achieved when a troop or pack or gaggle or whatever is sufficient in number and cohesion to create a certain acceptable level of security. As the habitat dwindles, food sources thin, and water becomes more scarce, more territory is required to fulfill these needs. At some point the sustenance becomes insufficient to allow further expansion, so the group’s size is thereby limited. Likewise, if populations grow too large and food becomes too scarce, infant mortality rises. Too much inbreeding? Ditto. Is nature cool, or what?
His point is that the individual animal, given adequate room and a comfortable environment, adequate interaction with members of its species, and ample food and water, is likely happier in a zoo than in the wild because the security concern is largely absent. As an example, he cites numerous cases of animals escaping from, and then voluntarily returning to, various zoos throughout the world and history, due to the less stressful life there. No, I’m not going to argue with you. Sounds plausible and made me think, and that’s enough for me…
So then I started extrapolating from that brief passage what, if anything, might this say about humanity and our condition and behavior. And here’s what I came up with. Modern industrialized westernized humans are like animals in a zoo. We have given up our freedom and our connection with nature in exchange for the security of the civilized common. And all of this being relatively new in evolutionary terms, some of us take to this transition better than others. I, for one, hanker for something decidedly more primitive, largely because I’ve not yet had my fill of it – barely a teaspoon if truth be told. Whenever I get in the mountains or near the ocean or next to a babbling brook - far away from anything attesting to the presence of a single other human, I feel myself sucked into it like an iron filing to a magnet. And I can’t get in deep enough and I can’t stay long enough. The same circumstance will drive other moderns to sheer panic, a trembling fear which can only be settled by the rumble of engines, the smell of diesel, the glow of street lights, the reassuring snick of a door latch catching, or the road hiss of a nearby highway.
I’m afraid I am not the zoo animal that would turn and head back to the cage, but more the fool raised in captivity who would charge off into the wilderness, never looking back. And I would no doubt be taken on my first night by a hungry animal. And I think I might be happier in my departure than I was in my previous condition. And my killer would settle in under a rocky overhang, dozing peacefully with a full stomach, and dreaming about what exactly he needs to do to be accepted into the comfortably easy life of the zoo creatures…
So we read. A lot. And I’ve never knowingly read the same book twice, with the possible exception of To Kill a Mockingbird. So my voluntarily picking up The Life of Pi is actually significant. I think. Maybe…
No, I’m not going to do a review for you here. If you can read this blog then you can get yourself over to a library or the discount book store or Amazon or wherever you get your reading materials, buy the darn thing and read it yourself. And I strongly recommend you do. I digress…
So, I’m sitting on the throne meditating this morning (figures of speech both) and reading my book, when I ran across an early passage I didn’t recall from my last go round, which was admittedly several years ago. Did I mention that I pretty much remember in a very hazy way virtually every book I’ve ever read? Well, I do. I never remember the author or the title, but if I inadvertently pick up a previously read tome – within a couple of pages I will remember not only that I read it, but generally about when, and the whole story line. I have always been that way and sometimes find it a little disconcerting. It’s funny, actually, because I am one of the most forgetful people you’d ever want to meet, and yet I seem unable to fully forget anything I’ve ever read. The wife reminds me when I pick up something I’ve already read, because she knows I value efficiency, and that I’ll be back up out of bed and returning it to the bookshelf within five minutes once I’m made the discovery myself. Crazy, huh?
Dammit, I digressed again. Sorry…
Anyhow, Pi, the main human character in the story, was the son of a zoo keeper, and he delivers a pretty thought provoking exposition on the lives of animals in the wild and in captivity, and ties it back to humans just a bit, leaving me, the reader, to carry the thought a step farther. His contention is that modern zoo critics, PETA and others, are all wrong about zoos, animal happiness, and so forth. He suggests that wild animals need, rather than want, a certain amount of territory, because it takes that much territory to provide sustenance and security. I’m not a wildlife expert by any stretch, but it makes sense to me. For instance, jungles are teaming with wildlife in great concentration, precisely because there is an abundance of food and water, the relative security that comes with adequate cover, and the unit strength achieved when a troop or pack or gaggle or whatever is sufficient in number and cohesion to create a certain acceptable level of security. As the habitat dwindles, food sources thin, and water becomes more scarce, more territory is required to fulfill these needs. At some point the sustenance becomes insufficient to allow further expansion, so the group’s size is thereby limited. Likewise, if populations grow too large and food becomes too scarce, infant mortality rises. Too much inbreeding? Ditto. Is nature cool, or what?
His point is that the individual animal, given adequate room and a comfortable environment, adequate interaction with members of its species, and ample food and water, is likely happier in a zoo than in the wild because the security concern is largely absent. As an example, he cites numerous cases of animals escaping from, and then voluntarily returning to, various zoos throughout the world and history, due to the less stressful life there. No, I’m not going to argue with you. Sounds plausible and made me think, and that’s enough for me…
So then I started extrapolating from that brief passage what, if anything, might this say about humanity and our condition and behavior. And here’s what I came up with. Modern industrialized westernized humans are like animals in a zoo. We have given up our freedom and our connection with nature in exchange for the security of the civilized common. And all of this being relatively new in evolutionary terms, some of us take to this transition better than others. I, for one, hanker for something decidedly more primitive, largely because I’ve not yet had my fill of it – barely a teaspoon if truth be told. Whenever I get in the mountains or near the ocean or next to a babbling brook - far away from anything attesting to the presence of a single other human, I feel myself sucked into it like an iron filing to a magnet. And I can’t get in deep enough and I can’t stay long enough. The same circumstance will drive other moderns to sheer panic, a trembling fear which can only be settled by the rumble of engines, the smell of diesel, the glow of street lights, the reassuring snick of a door latch catching, or the road hiss of a nearby highway.
I’m afraid I am not the zoo animal that would turn and head back to the cage, but more the fool raised in captivity who would charge off into the wilderness, never looking back. And I would no doubt be taken on my first night by a hungry animal. And I think I might be happier in my departure than I was in my previous condition. And my killer would settle in under a rocky overhang, dozing peacefully with a full stomach, and dreaming about what exactly he needs to do to be accepted into the comfortably easy life of the zoo creatures…
Saturday, September 11, 2010
In Memoriam…
Today is September 11th, the ninth anniversary of the heinous coordinated attacks on innocent Americans by radical religious fundamentalists. Like many, if not most, Americans, I am a bit more cognizant this year, owing primarily to the New York mosque controversy, and the idiotic and dangerous Quran burning threats of a megalomaniac Florida pastor.
I find myself mourning anew the loss of thousands of innocent lives of workers in the twin towers, of passengers who died the field in Pennsylvania, of the unsuspecting civilian and military personnel working in the Pentagon that fateful morning, and of so many brave rescuers who headed into instead of away from the conflagrations to assist their fallen brothers and sisters. I do make a distinction between victims and heroes, for while all were victims directly and indirectly, the real heroes were the fighting passengers on flight 93, the rescuers who charged into the infernos, and the tens of thousands of brave men and women who volunteered and who continue to volunteer to put their lives on the line in defense of our nation against an ongoing attack by a small but determined group of radicalized Muslims bent on spreading their religion by violent means.
I think what I mourn most deeply though, is the opportunity that was lost following those first days and months following the attacks, when then President Bush rallied the nation together, bolstered our spirits and soothed our troubled hearts, and held in his hand an opportunity to bind our wounds and unify Americans, and to unite America with the rest of the world. We had been knocked down off our high horse in a most traumatic fashion, which created a unique opportunity to join together with current allies and previous foes to form common cause against global terrorism, to recognize and seize upon our common interests, and to move the country and the world forward in a positive direction. At an early moment there, George W. Bush had the opportunity to go down in history as one of the greatest American Presidents.
He started out well enough, vowing to identify the culprits and make them pay for their deed, and take action to ensure that we would not fall prey to such actions again. He focused rightly on Afghanistan, a failed state which offered safe harbor to Bin Laden and his followers, and began marshaling forces and a plan to deal with our attackers. But then, before we’d even launched our action in that squalid land, he squandered his opportunity horribly…
We now know that the dust and debris from the attack hadn’t yet been cleared when plans began being laid in earnest to attack Iraq, a country that the administration knew had absolutely nothing to do with the 9/11 attack. As a result, the Afghanistan effort was shoddily planned and woefully under-resourced, ensuring its failure from the outset and, as a consequence, squandering the lives of more than 2,000 coalition troops so far up to the time of this writing. While our allies willingly joined us in pursuing this initial justified effort, they were being simultaneously strong-armed into pledging participation toward the Iraq invasion. In the months following our successful invasion of Afghanistan, routing of the Taliban, and predictable failure to capture or kill Bin Laden and the Al Quaeda leadership, the actions of the Bush administration began sowing rifts not only between the U.S. and Muslim nations, but between us and our non-Muslim allies as well. Less than a year and a half after the 9/11 attacks we invaded a sovereign nation without legal justification, leading a bogus international coalition strong-armed together to create a flimsy masquerade of an international effort, and as a consequence severely damaging our standing in the community of nations and splitting our own nation asunder in ways unseen since the outset of the civil war.
Instead of accepting the global outpouring of compassion and brotherhood that resulted from this dastardly and globally excoriated attack, and using the opportunity to motivate our people united in shock and mourning toward some positive end, Bush and his cohort climbed back up on the pedestal, brushed aside calls for measure and reason, swelled out their collective chest, waved the sword and bellowed out in anger and fury. They wielded our financial, military and political strength to bend the situation in their ill-conceived direction, and started a religious war that shows no sign of abating – quite the opposite. Instead of taking advantage of our unrivaled strength to lead a willing global coalition toward alleviating a great evil, they chose instead to add to it with their own criminal behavior. Instead of taking this opportunity to unite the nation toward some positive end and a brighter future, we found ourselves embroiled in increasingly violent rhetoric and political chicanery. And all the while, our brave men and women were spilling their precious blood in vain, and do so to this day.
All the while, Americans were coerced into giving up their civil liberties to an increasingly paranoid police state. Political operatives maligned ordinary citizens who were non-compliant with their outlandish plans. Rules were bent, broken and disregarded in the name of “national security,” while the actual security concerns at our borders and ports were ignored and deprived of resources which were instead being fed into an ill conceived conflict. A true national nightmare…
Conservatives and self-proclaimed “patriots” prod us with their flags and T-shirts and bumper stickers to “Never Forget.” None of us will ever forget. Not where we were. Not what we felt. Not how we huddled with our families and friends in shock and pain and suffering…
And I, for one, will never forget that this opportunity for healing and progress both at home and abroad, purchased at such a horrible price of pain and suffering and death which continues to be levied to this very moment, was squandered. I will wonder what those innocent souls of both victims and heroes whose lives were unjustly and violently taken would say about how their deaths were used to justify all the moral failures and violent deaths that have followed as a result. And I will wonder how long our nation will have to pay for President Bush’s terrible failure of leadership.
And I will mourn…
I find myself mourning anew the loss of thousands of innocent lives of workers in the twin towers, of passengers who died the field in Pennsylvania, of the unsuspecting civilian and military personnel working in the Pentagon that fateful morning, and of so many brave rescuers who headed into instead of away from the conflagrations to assist their fallen brothers and sisters. I do make a distinction between victims and heroes, for while all were victims directly and indirectly, the real heroes were the fighting passengers on flight 93, the rescuers who charged into the infernos, and the tens of thousands of brave men and women who volunteered and who continue to volunteer to put their lives on the line in defense of our nation against an ongoing attack by a small but determined group of radicalized Muslims bent on spreading their religion by violent means.
I think what I mourn most deeply though, is the opportunity that was lost following those first days and months following the attacks, when then President Bush rallied the nation together, bolstered our spirits and soothed our troubled hearts, and held in his hand an opportunity to bind our wounds and unify Americans, and to unite America with the rest of the world. We had been knocked down off our high horse in a most traumatic fashion, which created a unique opportunity to join together with current allies and previous foes to form common cause against global terrorism, to recognize and seize upon our common interests, and to move the country and the world forward in a positive direction. At an early moment there, George W. Bush had the opportunity to go down in history as one of the greatest American Presidents.
He started out well enough, vowing to identify the culprits and make them pay for their deed, and take action to ensure that we would not fall prey to such actions again. He focused rightly on Afghanistan, a failed state which offered safe harbor to Bin Laden and his followers, and began marshaling forces and a plan to deal with our attackers. But then, before we’d even launched our action in that squalid land, he squandered his opportunity horribly…
We now know that the dust and debris from the attack hadn’t yet been cleared when plans began being laid in earnest to attack Iraq, a country that the administration knew had absolutely nothing to do with the 9/11 attack. As a result, the Afghanistan effort was shoddily planned and woefully under-resourced, ensuring its failure from the outset and, as a consequence, squandering the lives of more than 2,000 coalition troops so far up to the time of this writing. While our allies willingly joined us in pursuing this initial justified effort, they were being simultaneously strong-armed into pledging participation toward the Iraq invasion. In the months following our successful invasion of Afghanistan, routing of the Taliban, and predictable failure to capture or kill Bin Laden and the Al Quaeda leadership, the actions of the Bush administration began sowing rifts not only between the U.S. and Muslim nations, but between us and our non-Muslim allies as well. Less than a year and a half after the 9/11 attacks we invaded a sovereign nation without legal justification, leading a bogus international coalition strong-armed together to create a flimsy masquerade of an international effort, and as a consequence severely damaging our standing in the community of nations and splitting our own nation asunder in ways unseen since the outset of the civil war.
Instead of accepting the global outpouring of compassion and brotherhood that resulted from this dastardly and globally excoriated attack, and using the opportunity to motivate our people united in shock and mourning toward some positive end, Bush and his cohort climbed back up on the pedestal, brushed aside calls for measure and reason, swelled out their collective chest, waved the sword and bellowed out in anger and fury. They wielded our financial, military and political strength to bend the situation in their ill-conceived direction, and started a religious war that shows no sign of abating – quite the opposite. Instead of taking advantage of our unrivaled strength to lead a willing global coalition toward alleviating a great evil, they chose instead to add to it with their own criminal behavior. Instead of taking this opportunity to unite the nation toward some positive end and a brighter future, we found ourselves embroiled in increasingly violent rhetoric and political chicanery. And all the while, our brave men and women were spilling their precious blood in vain, and do so to this day.
All the while, Americans were coerced into giving up their civil liberties to an increasingly paranoid police state. Political operatives maligned ordinary citizens who were non-compliant with their outlandish plans. Rules were bent, broken and disregarded in the name of “national security,” while the actual security concerns at our borders and ports were ignored and deprived of resources which were instead being fed into an ill conceived conflict. A true national nightmare…
Conservatives and self-proclaimed “patriots” prod us with their flags and T-shirts and bumper stickers to “Never Forget.” None of us will ever forget. Not where we were. Not what we felt. Not how we huddled with our families and friends in shock and pain and suffering…
And I, for one, will never forget that this opportunity for healing and progress both at home and abroad, purchased at such a horrible price of pain and suffering and death which continues to be levied to this very moment, was squandered. I will wonder what those innocent souls of both victims and heroes whose lives were unjustly and violently taken would say about how their deaths were used to justify all the moral failures and violent deaths that have followed as a result. And I will wonder how long our nation will have to pay for President Bush’s terrible failure of leadership.
And I will mourn…
Monday, September 6, 2010
What If…?
I might have mentioned at some time in the past that I have a frighteningly intelligent son. He is now 22, graduated from college and gainfully employed. And for the first time in a very long while we are having some pretty intensive intellectual discussions on topics large and small. Very gratifying, to me at least…
I noted in the course of one such exchange recently that he shows exactly the same fealty to his faith in science, as it exists currently, that the religious believers he so disdains hold toward their interpretation of God and their particular scriptures, traditions, practices, and so forth. Did I mention that he is an atheist? No? Sorry. Yes, he is one of those dogmatically certain atheists that I have a hard time elevating to a status too far above the dogmatically certain Christians or Muslims or Jews. Ok, I admit that I know no dogmatically certain Jews – perhaps being “God’s chosen people” eliminates the need for dogmatic certainty. In fact, I have developed something of a deep appreciation for Judaism, based on my interaction with many in that community. They seem quite comfortable in their uncertainty, which I find very refreshing.
I digress…
So, with my boy and I now having re-found the ability to engage in intellectual sparring sessions, I asked him to consider the possibility that science, as it exists currently, is limited to only being able to explain within its capabilities the material universe, and that these abilities might be both limited and limiting. I suggested that the total universe might be infinite, and might be comprised of many non-material aspects of which we have no awareness, nor means of comprehending. I further suggested that there might be points of interface between these hypothetical planes of existence, at which points the material world might not behave exactly as science currently believes the material world to behave. Finally, I suggested that science’s belief that the material universe is finite might in fact be nothing more than science’s finite ability currently to observe – that the universe’s purported limits might in fact only be our own.
Now I know how Galileo felt…
The genesis of this line of discussion came when I found myself pondering exactly how much we have progressed since the dawn of man. I have long and often stated that we have progressed very little, that we still focus primarily on survival and advantage, and that despite our recent advances in science, communications, travel and transport and the manipulation of so many aspects of the material universe, we seem to have no end purpose as a species. We have certainly made our lives more complex, and it has admittedly been in the course of this self-serving hubristic paean to ourselves that we’ve developed the technological capabilities that make our world today such a wonder.
So what?
We still struggle to put food on the table, shelter over our heads, and to gather certain bits of material wealth to make our lives or the lives of our children theoretically easier. We live a more complex version of the life our forbearers lived while still in caves, in other words.
Have we developed a common mission? Do we, as a species, have a communal objective? Have we a plan to somehow make our lives meaningful purposeful in any real sense? I think not. My friends the religionists see no need – they await the rapture in which they will transcend this physical realm and ascend to something bigger and better and more rewarding, and they arrogantly assume that this rapture will come in their lifetimes and in this particular corner of space.
My son the science worshiper is no better – readily admitting that in his theology there’s no reward in store in the end – that mankind will simply stay tethered to this spinning blue orb or at most this solar system until the sun goes to supernova and fries away all sustenance for life, and life itself. I personally don’t see one improvable mythology being particularly superior to the other.
But, what if there is potentially a third path? What if “God” really does have a plan, and that plan is survival. Without us getting all hung up on the unanswerable questions of whether God is or isn’t, or God’s nature or will, for the sake of conversation let’s make the allowance. There is ample evidence that nature reveres survival above all else – it is the strongest of instincts, and the imperative for evolutionary progress. As my boy put it in the course of our discourse, “the extension of life.” Disdainfully it was said, I might add. This brilliant lad, who chooses to ignore anything for which there is no evidence, seemingly refuses to ignore the most glaring evidence of all – namely, that nature reveres survival above all else.
“So what?” you ask?
So, what is the greatest inarguable and certain impediment to mankind’s survival? How about the fact that we are firmly tethered to a planet and a solar system moving inexorably toward certain destruction? Assume that we somehow dodge the asteroids that are sure to pound the planet over the eons. Assume, as I don’t, that we will manage to not immolate ourselves in some nuclear conflagration. Assume that we will avoid unleashing a plague on our species, or poisoning our atmosphere and environment beyond the point where it can sustain life, or that we will somehow get over our love of wars fought over man-made religious differences and the distribution of wealth. Assume all these things, if you like. But recognize that these unlikely accomplishments and avoidances will not change the physics of the observable material universe, and that our solar system will become in time uninhabitable by life as we know it.
These are all known impending realities. What are we doing about them?
We’re celebrating Lady Gaga and the latest in techno entertainment. We’re working to figure out how to squeeze a few extra MPG out of our planes and trains and automobiles. We’re manipulating currencies and starting wars and developing new technologies and products and practices to bend the material world we live in to our will, in a micro sense, to make our lives a little more comfortable, a bit more entertaining. Oh yes, and breeding like rabbits, as if there’s something positive in that. All the while we’re ignoring the stark reality that we’re busily remodeling and decorating an increasingly crowded residence assured of fiery destruction, and not even considering what our next stop might be, or if there might be one.
So, what should we be doing instead? How about focusing on getting off this doomed orb and out of this doomed solar system as expeditiously as possible? Now that would be a project, no? Am I suggesting that we stop trying to ease our suffering, improve our health, increase our efficiency, transform our energy models? No, of course not – these are part and parcel of survival in the shorter term. But as long as the rationale is short term and immediately self-serving, we will never achieve the greater possibilities.
What are the avoidable impediments to mankind’s survival beyond that of the earth or the solar system? I will name the first few that come to mind:
No sense of urgency – there are in fact scientists who sound the alarm regularly about the likelihood of our encountering a cataclysmic hurtling object of some sort which could set civilization as we know it back to at least the dawn of the industrial age, or perhaps annihilate us altogether. And it could happen at any time. And, as mentioned before, the lights will eventually go out of their own accord, and there is nothing we can do to change that reality.
Religion – the proselytizing religions (all in the Abrahamic tradition, interestingly) seem stubbornly unwilling to concede that they cannot prove their claims in this realm, and instead insist on marshaling armies and exhausting resources to defend and spread their beliefs in hopes that non-believers will somehow validate their own fealty to the unknowable. That this has been going on for millennia supports my contention that we’ve made little real progress since man first stood upright and figured out how to control fire.
Nationalism – petty peoples both advanced and primitive continue to expend tremendous energy and limited resources defending lines drawn on the surface of the planet by men with apparently nothing better to do, creating a basis for conflict and angst which is totally self-made. The demise of princedoms and the evolution of the nation-state is one of the societal developments which allowed for the rise of industrialism and the rather impressive advances in science and technology of the last several centuries. But our retention of the model which is now aging and causative of more negative than positive is a pronounced impediment to mankind’s continued progress.
Economics – over the centuries certain models of wealth distribution, currency exchange and trade have arisen and been refined, which again have served a valuable purpose for mankind up to this point. It is increasingly clear, however, that the competitive nature of the models which have gained ascendency now act more to retard than to facilitate human progress. There are those who laud the competitive aspects of western style capitalism as the engine of efficiency leading to technological progress, and this point I won’t argue. I will argue, however, that other motivations, such as survival of the species, could serve equally well, if man could only find a way to step beyond the artificial distinctions of race, religion, nationality, and so forth. In the end, everything that was, is or ever will be is already provided by God or the universe or whatever you wish to title the supreme force, and by perpetuating systems designed to marshal and horde these gifts to a select subset of humanity, we waste precious time and opportunity to progress and survive as a species.
Science – there are too many among us, my dear brilliant son included, who treat science as a religion, the laws of physics as their scripture, the currently provable as their theology to not be trifled with. I know there are many scientists and supporters, however, who hold a more expansive view, who appreciate the accomplishments of science to date, but who also recognize that what we know is limited to what we can at this mid-point in our development detect and measure, and who want to strive and stretch beyond the current self-imposed limitations of our understanding. It is these who would move our understanding and knowledge beyond the limitations of crass commercial viability and toward the possibility of mankind’s potentially limitless survival.
The religionists would argue that my approach is hubris, and that what I am proposing is a path to a modern day Tower of Babel. To these I would argue that it is hubris on their part to presume a knowledge of God’s will, and to assume that God intends us to rise and fall on this single wondrous blue ball we’ve been granted the honor of occupying for many eons now, a mere instant, however, in the infinite life of the infinite universe. What God/Nature has demonstrated inarguably is that its preference is toward our survival, and that, among all the species on this particular planet, man is the only one with the theoretical capability to extend our existence beyond the predictable lifetime of the planet and solar system on which and in which we came to be. Are we not compelled to do so?
In the end, the question comes down to this: Do I prefer for my progeny 1,000 generations hence to be the richest and most comfortable and best entertained humans on earth at the point the planet ceases to be able to sustain life? Or would I want them to be elsewhere, or to at least die trying?
For me, the answer is pretty simple…
I noted in the course of one such exchange recently that he shows exactly the same fealty to his faith in science, as it exists currently, that the religious believers he so disdains hold toward their interpretation of God and their particular scriptures, traditions, practices, and so forth. Did I mention that he is an atheist? No? Sorry. Yes, he is one of those dogmatically certain atheists that I have a hard time elevating to a status too far above the dogmatically certain Christians or Muslims or Jews. Ok, I admit that I know no dogmatically certain Jews – perhaps being “God’s chosen people” eliminates the need for dogmatic certainty. In fact, I have developed something of a deep appreciation for Judaism, based on my interaction with many in that community. They seem quite comfortable in their uncertainty, which I find very refreshing.
I digress…
So, with my boy and I now having re-found the ability to engage in intellectual sparring sessions, I asked him to consider the possibility that science, as it exists currently, is limited to only being able to explain within its capabilities the material universe, and that these abilities might be both limited and limiting. I suggested that the total universe might be infinite, and might be comprised of many non-material aspects of which we have no awareness, nor means of comprehending. I further suggested that there might be points of interface between these hypothetical planes of existence, at which points the material world might not behave exactly as science currently believes the material world to behave. Finally, I suggested that science’s belief that the material universe is finite might in fact be nothing more than science’s finite ability currently to observe – that the universe’s purported limits might in fact only be our own.
Now I know how Galileo felt…
The genesis of this line of discussion came when I found myself pondering exactly how much we have progressed since the dawn of man. I have long and often stated that we have progressed very little, that we still focus primarily on survival and advantage, and that despite our recent advances in science, communications, travel and transport and the manipulation of so many aspects of the material universe, we seem to have no end purpose as a species. We have certainly made our lives more complex, and it has admittedly been in the course of this self-serving hubristic paean to ourselves that we’ve developed the technological capabilities that make our world today such a wonder.
So what?
We still struggle to put food on the table, shelter over our heads, and to gather certain bits of material wealth to make our lives or the lives of our children theoretically easier. We live a more complex version of the life our forbearers lived while still in caves, in other words.
Have we developed a common mission? Do we, as a species, have a communal objective? Have we a plan to somehow make our lives meaningful purposeful in any real sense? I think not. My friends the religionists see no need – they await the rapture in which they will transcend this physical realm and ascend to something bigger and better and more rewarding, and they arrogantly assume that this rapture will come in their lifetimes and in this particular corner of space.
My son the science worshiper is no better – readily admitting that in his theology there’s no reward in store in the end – that mankind will simply stay tethered to this spinning blue orb or at most this solar system until the sun goes to supernova and fries away all sustenance for life, and life itself. I personally don’t see one improvable mythology being particularly superior to the other.
But, what if there is potentially a third path? What if “God” really does have a plan, and that plan is survival. Without us getting all hung up on the unanswerable questions of whether God is or isn’t, or God’s nature or will, for the sake of conversation let’s make the allowance. There is ample evidence that nature reveres survival above all else – it is the strongest of instincts, and the imperative for evolutionary progress. As my boy put it in the course of our discourse, “the extension of life.” Disdainfully it was said, I might add. This brilliant lad, who chooses to ignore anything for which there is no evidence, seemingly refuses to ignore the most glaring evidence of all – namely, that nature reveres survival above all else.
“So what?” you ask?
So, what is the greatest inarguable and certain impediment to mankind’s survival? How about the fact that we are firmly tethered to a planet and a solar system moving inexorably toward certain destruction? Assume that we somehow dodge the asteroids that are sure to pound the planet over the eons. Assume, as I don’t, that we will manage to not immolate ourselves in some nuclear conflagration. Assume that we will avoid unleashing a plague on our species, or poisoning our atmosphere and environment beyond the point where it can sustain life, or that we will somehow get over our love of wars fought over man-made religious differences and the distribution of wealth. Assume all these things, if you like. But recognize that these unlikely accomplishments and avoidances will not change the physics of the observable material universe, and that our solar system will become in time uninhabitable by life as we know it.
These are all known impending realities. What are we doing about them?
We’re celebrating Lady Gaga and the latest in techno entertainment. We’re working to figure out how to squeeze a few extra MPG out of our planes and trains and automobiles. We’re manipulating currencies and starting wars and developing new technologies and products and practices to bend the material world we live in to our will, in a micro sense, to make our lives a little more comfortable, a bit more entertaining. Oh yes, and breeding like rabbits, as if there’s something positive in that. All the while we’re ignoring the stark reality that we’re busily remodeling and decorating an increasingly crowded residence assured of fiery destruction, and not even considering what our next stop might be, or if there might be one.
So, what should we be doing instead? How about focusing on getting off this doomed orb and out of this doomed solar system as expeditiously as possible? Now that would be a project, no? Am I suggesting that we stop trying to ease our suffering, improve our health, increase our efficiency, transform our energy models? No, of course not – these are part and parcel of survival in the shorter term. But as long as the rationale is short term and immediately self-serving, we will never achieve the greater possibilities.
What are the avoidable impediments to mankind’s survival beyond that of the earth or the solar system? I will name the first few that come to mind:
No sense of urgency – there are in fact scientists who sound the alarm regularly about the likelihood of our encountering a cataclysmic hurtling object of some sort which could set civilization as we know it back to at least the dawn of the industrial age, or perhaps annihilate us altogether. And it could happen at any time. And, as mentioned before, the lights will eventually go out of their own accord, and there is nothing we can do to change that reality.
Religion – the proselytizing religions (all in the Abrahamic tradition, interestingly) seem stubbornly unwilling to concede that they cannot prove their claims in this realm, and instead insist on marshaling armies and exhausting resources to defend and spread their beliefs in hopes that non-believers will somehow validate their own fealty to the unknowable. That this has been going on for millennia supports my contention that we’ve made little real progress since man first stood upright and figured out how to control fire.
Nationalism – petty peoples both advanced and primitive continue to expend tremendous energy and limited resources defending lines drawn on the surface of the planet by men with apparently nothing better to do, creating a basis for conflict and angst which is totally self-made. The demise of princedoms and the evolution of the nation-state is one of the societal developments which allowed for the rise of industrialism and the rather impressive advances in science and technology of the last several centuries. But our retention of the model which is now aging and causative of more negative than positive is a pronounced impediment to mankind’s continued progress.
Economics – over the centuries certain models of wealth distribution, currency exchange and trade have arisen and been refined, which again have served a valuable purpose for mankind up to this point. It is increasingly clear, however, that the competitive nature of the models which have gained ascendency now act more to retard than to facilitate human progress. There are those who laud the competitive aspects of western style capitalism as the engine of efficiency leading to technological progress, and this point I won’t argue. I will argue, however, that other motivations, such as survival of the species, could serve equally well, if man could only find a way to step beyond the artificial distinctions of race, religion, nationality, and so forth. In the end, everything that was, is or ever will be is already provided by God or the universe or whatever you wish to title the supreme force, and by perpetuating systems designed to marshal and horde these gifts to a select subset of humanity, we waste precious time and opportunity to progress and survive as a species.
Science – there are too many among us, my dear brilliant son included, who treat science as a religion, the laws of physics as their scripture, the currently provable as their theology to not be trifled with. I know there are many scientists and supporters, however, who hold a more expansive view, who appreciate the accomplishments of science to date, but who also recognize that what we know is limited to what we can at this mid-point in our development detect and measure, and who want to strive and stretch beyond the current self-imposed limitations of our understanding. It is these who would move our understanding and knowledge beyond the limitations of crass commercial viability and toward the possibility of mankind’s potentially limitless survival.
The religionists would argue that my approach is hubris, and that what I am proposing is a path to a modern day Tower of Babel. To these I would argue that it is hubris on their part to presume a knowledge of God’s will, and to assume that God intends us to rise and fall on this single wondrous blue ball we’ve been granted the honor of occupying for many eons now, a mere instant, however, in the infinite life of the infinite universe. What God/Nature has demonstrated inarguably is that its preference is toward our survival, and that, among all the species on this particular planet, man is the only one with the theoretical capability to extend our existence beyond the predictable lifetime of the planet and solar system on which and in which we came to be. Are we not compelled to do so?
In the end, the question comes down to this: Do I prefer for my progeny 1,000 generations hence to be the richest and most comfortable and best entertained humans on earth at the point the planet ceases to be able to sustain life? Or would I want them to be elsewhere, or to at least die trying?
For me, the answer is pretty simple…
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Last Call…
So, I was chastised earlier this week by a Facebook friend for posting too darn many political pieces on my wall. Lighten up, already, was her message. Then, while riding with a friend this glorious morning, he turned the conversation to politics, asking for my thoughts and insights on various maladies in today’s political arena. So there you have it. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances who come from wildly varying perspectives – some of whom feel I’m way too political and some lamenting that I’m not nearly as politically active as in the past. The reality is that both perspectives are true, but my inclination is to side with the former.
My family and I have paid a high price for my political involvement over the years. It has cost me a company and a bankruptcy, put incredible strains on my marriage, deprived my children of the attention I should have been paying at critical junctures in their lives. The fact is that I involved myself with the best of intentions, accomplished a good deal at times that will have lasting effect, and don’t really regret as much as I probably should the sacrifice I willingly made. I do regret dragging them along on my crusade, and apologize to them for the steep price they’ve paid.
But enough is enough. While I expect to continue playing the political provocateur on Facebook, this is entertainment for me. I am not a lighthearted fellow – am actually an emotional recluse and rather well known for my lack of humor. This is a condition I am doggedly working on remedying through counseling, study, meditation, and so forth, so if I find a harmless pastime that brings a little levity into my life, I hope my friends will be inclined to humor me. But I truly intend for this post to be the last politically oriented piece in this forum – am now off on another more personal path. So, as a going away present to those interested, a quick trek through my views on the current landscape of American politics…
Political Parties
My riding buddy asked why we can’t just do away with political parties entirely, and I for one would love it. Unfortunately, our Constitution protects freedom of association under the First Amendment, so the parties cannot be outlawed. Fact of the matter is that the parties can be and are heavily regulated, while individual citizens and unregistered groups are not regulated at all. I believe these are as much or more of a threat to our society than the parties at this point, particularly following the recent Citizens United v. FEC SCOTUS decision. I have no idea how it will all play out, but the situation doesn’t make me hopeful.
The Founders anticipated the formation of political parties, but they didn’t anticipate that these might assume the permanent nature now exhibited, nor the level of influence they would have across the entire spectrum of governmental activities. Unconfirmed executive branch officers, the incredible electoral/political influence on every single piece of legislation, the perpetual logjam in the legislative process – none of these would please any of the Federalists who saw the Constitution through ratification in 1789.
Of all the existing political parties, the one the Founders with their 1789 world view would most readily identify with is the Libertarians, whose sole focus is on limiting the scope of government to constitutionally enumerated activities. Before all the Libertarians and Tea Partiers out there get excited, please note my caveat regarding world view. We are no longer an isolated thirteen colonies of relatively homogeneous Englishmen on the eastern seaboard, comprised overwhelmingly of agricultural workers and land owners, with the merchant/industrialist class running a distant second and all others fractional participants. Neither are we slave holding plantation owners, which were the primary cause of the adherence to the Federal model which has proved as vexing as it has contributory to our national well being. Indeed, few are the Founders would take pride in what the nation has become in its sprawling urbanism, internationalism, multi-culturalism, economic complexity, and crass materialism. And while they would lament what we’ve become, once they understood the true nature of modern America, they wouldn’t advocate for a return to a political philosophy that has been outmoded for at least a century…
The problem with the Democrats is that they have lost touch with the only thing that ever mattered – being the representatives of working Americans and true small businesses. The family farmer (dwindling though they may be), sole proprietors, tradesmen, butchers, bakers, candle-stick makers, common laborers and blue-collar workers – these were the lifeblood of the Democratic Party. These folks now feel for the most part that they have nobody representing their interests. An unfathomable portion have wandered hopefully to the Republicans, while most have found themselves abandoned in the mushy middle with no party and no seeming reason to participate in the political process. My personal view is that the party no longer really stands for anything definable as a result of trying to fit more factions into its political tent than any tent can hold. I don’t see a solution to this problem coming any time in the foreseeable future…
The Republicans, on the other hand, have their own can of worms to deal with. They are what they have always been – the party of the moneyed interests. Their message was originally much a libertarian one, buttressed with more than a hint of fascism. Historically, the American voter recognized that they weren’t rich, and at least since the New Deal, that government could in fact make a positive difference in their lives – realities that didn’t bode well with the masses for the Republican’s electoral chances. In their creativity and efficiency, and in response to LBJ’s brave but dangerous push for civil rights for African Americans, they have expanded their message to attract enough voters to win elections, but at a fearful price. They invited in social conservatives concerned with creating a religious utopia (for themselves), along with racists and isolationist xenophobes, and have managed to achieve political parity where none should rightfully exist. The result is that pragmatic moderates and centrists as well as liberals are fearful of the Republican vision, which is why they stand at record low approval ratings today. I also don’t see this dynamic easing anytime soon, and in fact expect it to worsen with the advent of the Tea Party activists, the alienation of Hispanics, the fastest growing minority in the nation, and an increasingly strident anger against all things not wealthy WASP.
Political Reform
So, recognizing that nobody wants any of them, it should be a simple thing to fix the system, right? Not so, unfortunately. Remember, the Founders didn’t anticipate permanent parties with unlimited power, so they didn’t see the need to protect us from such a development. In fact, they allowed each house of Congress to write its own rules, and they allowed the states to handle apportionment and redistricting. The result is that the two major parties have a solid lock on the entire governmental process, a bare majority in either house allows the dominant party to control the flow of legislation and a sizable minority to block it, and more than 90 percent of House districts (at both state and federal level) are gerrymandered to protect incumbent office holders and their parties from any effort to bring about change.
To make matters worse, the flow of money into the process – always debilitating, is now a full-blown metastasizing cancer, made worse, as mentioned above, by the Citizens United ruling which grants corporations legal personhood and the right to spend limitless amounts of money toward electing their preferred water carrier. And we, the voters, are stuck between a sizeable rock and very solid hard place, with no recourse to change outside of armed revolt. (See note)
But wait…
The American Voter
The vast majority of American voters, including those who vote as well as those who don’t, are intellectually lazy and dangerously incurious. While this is somewhat truer on the right than the left, in my view, it is most prevalent in the apathetic middle. We read less, think less, ask less and demand less of our officials than any generation in modern history, and this is a trend that is increasing at a disturbing rate. Talking head radio entertainers belittle vacuous Hollywood entertainers for their political utterances and activism, when the country would be best served if all of them were ignored. Our education system is collapsing at exactly the time when citizens need better than ever to understand history, economics, trade and tax and geopolitical realities and the policies and politics that affect them. The media is so moribund and compromised it scarcely warrants the Constitutional protection the Founders granted it as an indispensable necessity for national survival. And the entire planet is held hostage, in this country as elsewhere, by the incessant battle between two Dark Age religions that fitfully coexist with nuclear fission, quantum physics and the fully mapped human genome.
And herein lays the crux of our political problems. As I told my cycling buddy this morning, have said often before and will no doubt repeat in the future – we have exactly the government we deserve. We are, in the end, a republic, if we can hang onto it, as Franklin is reported to have said. Ill-informed voters, apathetic voters, irrational voters, and non-voters all bear responsibility for where we find ourselves today. It is our country and it is our political system and our trying to lay the blame anywhere but squarely at our own feet is a cowardly and disingenuous cop out.
Manifesto for Change
It was this realization, belated on my part, that I could not in fact do much to affect the well-being of the country which convinced me that I needed to focus more on myself and my family and my future, and less on trying to save America from itself. I will continue to educate myself on the issues and the candidates and races, to vote, to support in an individual way the candidates from whichever party I think are most likely to best serve the constituency I find myself part of at that point. Finances allowing, I might even still write a check from time to time. Just doing these simple things will put me in the top 10 percent of voters in this country, and that’s good enough for me.
Now, if I should get wind of a viable candidate or promising party committed to actually fixing things, I might come out of hibernation and get involved in a more active way. What would real change consist of?
1. Eliminate all private money from political campaigns
2. Eliminate legislator participation in the redistricting process
3. Provide equal ballot access to independents and third party candidates
4. Establish reasonable term limits
It would require all of these at a minimum, and either in whole all at once or in this particular order, for me to believe we might salvage this noble experiment we call America. Do I believe it could happen? Absolutely! Do I believe it will? Not a snowball’s chance in hell. Americans are too fat and too lazy, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon either…
C'est la vie!
Note - While the depictions above refer primarily to the federal picture, it is not substantially different in most places at the state level.
My family and I have paid a high price for my political involvement over the years. It has cost me a company and a bankruptcy, put incredible strains on my marriage, deprived my children of the attention I should have been paying at critical junctures in their lives. The fact is that I involved myself with the best of intentions, accomplished a good deal at times that will have lasting effect, and don’t really regret as much as I probably should the sacrifice I willingly made. I do regret dragging them along on my crusade, and apologize to them for the steep price they’ve paid.
But enough is enough. While I expect to continue playing the political provocateur on Facebook, this is entertainment for me. I am not a lighthearted fellow – am actually an emotional recluse and rather well known for my lack of humor. This is a condition I am doggedly working on remedying through counseling, study, meditation, and so forth, so if I find a harmless pastime that brings a little levity into my life, I hope my friends will be inclined to humor me. But I truly intend for this post to be the last politically oriented piece in this forum – am now off on another more personal path. So, as a going away present to those interested, a quick trek through my views on the current landscape of American politics…
Political Parties
My riding buddy asked why we can’t just do away with political parties entirely, and I for one would love it. Unfortunately, our Constitution protects freedom of association under the First Amendment, so the parties cannot be outlawed. Fact of the matter is that the parties can be and are heavily regulated, while individual citizens and unregistered groups are not regulated at all. I believe these are as much or more of a threat to our society than the parties at this point, particularly following the recent Citizens United v. FEC SCOTUS decision. I have no idea how it will all play out, but the situation doesn’t make me hopeful.
The Founders anticipated the formation of political parties, but they didn’t anticipate that these might assume the permanent nature now exhibited, nor the level of influence they would have across the entire spectrum of governmental activities. Unconfirmed executive branch officers, the incredible electoral/political influence on every single piece of legislation, the perpetual logjam in the legislative process – none of these would please any of the Federalists who saw the Constitution through ratification in 1789.
Of all the existing political parties, the one the Founders with their 1789 world view would most readily identify with is the Libertarians, whose sole focus is on limiting the scope of government to constitutionally enumerated activities. Before all the Libertarians and Tea Partiers out there get excited, please note my caveat regarding world view. We are no longer an isolated thirteen colonies of relatively homogeneous Englishmen on the eastern seaboard, comprised overwhelmingly of agricultural workers and land owners, with the merchant/industrialist class running a distant second and all others fractional participants. Neither are we slave holding plantation owners, which were the primary cause of the adherence to the Federal model which has proved as vexing as it has contributory to our national well being. Indeed, few are the Founders would take pride in what the nation has become in its sprawling urbanism, internationalism, multi-culturalism, economic complexity, and crass materialism. And while they would lament what we’ve become, once they understood the true nature of modern America, they wouldn’t advocate for a return to a political philosophy that has been outmoded for at least a century…
The problem with the Democrats is that they have lost touch with the only thing that ever mattered – being the representatives of working Americans and true small businesses. The family farmer (dwindling though they may be), sole proprietors, tradesmen, butchers, bakers, candle-stick makers, common laborers and blue-collar workers – these were the lifeblood of the Democratic Party. These folks now feel for the most part that they have nobody representing their interests. An unfathomable portion have wandered hopefully to the Republicans, while most have found themselves abandoned in the mushy middle with no party and no seeming reason to participate in the political process. My personal view is that the party no longer really stands for anything definable as a result of trying to fit more factions into its political tent than any tent can hold. I don’t see a solution to this problem coming any time in the foreseeable future…
The Republicans, on the other hand, have their own can of worms to deal with. They are what they have always been – the party of the moneyed interests. Their message was originally much a libertarian one, buttressed with more than a hint of fascism. Historically, the American voter recognized that they weren’t rich, and at least since the New Deal, that government could in fact make a positive difference in their lives – realities that didn’t bode well with the masses for the Republican’s electoral chances. In their creativity and efficiency, and in response to LBJ’s brave but dangerous push for civil rights for African Americans, they have expanded their message to attract enough voters to win elections, but at a fearful price. They invited in social conservatives concerned with creating a religious utopia (for themselves), along with racists and isolationist xenophobes, and have managed to achieve political parity where none should rightfully exist. The result is that pragmatic moderates and centrists as well as liberals are fearful of the Republican vision, which is why they stand at record low approval ratings today. I also don’t see this dynamic easing anytime soon, and in fact expect it to worsen with the advent of the Tea Party activists, the alienation of Hispanics, the fastest growing minority in the nation, and an increasingly strident anger against all things not wealthy WASP.
Political Reform
So, recognizing that nobody wants any of them, it should be a simple thing to fix the system, right? Not so, unfortunately. Remember, the Founders didn’t anticipate permanent parties with unlimited power, so they didn’t see the need to protect us from such a development. In fact, they allowed each house of Congress to write its own rules, and they allowed the states to handle apportionment and redistricting. The result is that the two major parties have a solid lock on the entire governmental process, a bare majority in either house allows the dominant party to control the flow of legislation and a sizable minority to block it, and more than 90 percent of House districts (at both state and federal level) are gerrymandered to protect incumbent office holders and their parties from any effort to bring about change.
To make matters worse, the flow of money into the process – always debilitating, is now a full-blown metastasizing cancer, made worse, as mentioned above, by the Citizens United ruling which grants corporations legal personhood and the right to spend limitless amounts of money toward electing their preferred water carrier. And we, the voters, are stuck between a sizeable rock and very solid hard place, with no recourse to change outside of armed revolt. (See note)
But wait…
The American Voter
The vast majority of American voters, including those who vote as well as those who don’t, are intellectually lazy and dangerously incurious. While this is somewhat truer on the right than the left, in my view, it is most prevalent in the apathetic middle. We read less, think less, ask less and demand less of our officials than any generation in modern history, and this is a trend that is increasing at a disturbing rate. Talking head radio entertainers belittle vacuous Hollywood entertainers for their political utterances and activism, when the country would be best served if all of them were ignored. Our education system is collapsing at exactly the time when citizens need better than ever to understand history, economics, trade and tax and geopolitical realities and the policies and politics that affect them. The media is so moribund and compromised it scarcely warrants the Constitutional protection the Founders granted it as an indispensable necessity for national survival. And the entire planet is held hostage, in this country as elsewhere, by the incessant battle between two Dark Age religions that fitfully coexist with nuclear fission, quantum physics and the fully mapped human genome.
And herein lays the crux of our political problems. As I told my cycling buddy this morning, have said often before and will no doubt repeat in the future – we have exactly the government we deserve. We are, in the end, a republic, if we can hang onto it, as Franklin is reported to have said. Ill-informed voters, apathetic voters, irrational voters, and non-voters all bear responsibility for where we find ourselves today. It is our country and it is our political system and our trying to lay the blame anywhere but squarely at our own feet is a cowardly and disingenuous cop out.
Manifesto for Change
It was this realization, belated on my part, that I could not in fact do much to affect the well-being of the country which convinced me that I needed to focus more on myself and my family and my future, and less on trying to save America from itself. I will continue to educate myself on the issues and the candidates and races, to vote, to support in an individual way the candidates from whichever party I think are most likely to best serve the constituency I find myself part of at that point. Finances allowing, I might even still write a check from time to time. Just doing these simple things will put me in the top 10 percent of voters in this country, and that’s good enough for me.
Now, if I should get wind of a viable candidate or promising party committed to actually fixing things, I might come out of hibernation and get involved in a more active way. What would real change consist of?
1. Eliminate all private money from political campaigns
2. Eliminate legislator participation in the redistricting process
3. Provide equal ballot access to independents and third party candidates
4. Establish reasonable term limits
It would require all of these at a minimum, and either in whole all at once or in this particular order, for me to believe we might salvage this noble experiment we call America. Do I believe it could happen? Absolutely! Do I believe it will? Not a snowball’s chance in hell. Americans are too fat and too lazy, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon either…
C'est la vie!
Note - While the depictions above refer primarily to the federal picture, it is not substantially different in most places at the state level.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Riding With God
So, I was riding my bike along the river as I do most Sunday mornings, sweating and pumping and daydreaming a little, I suppose, when, suddenly, a voice spoke to me very clearly. “Watch out for that chuckhole!” Instinctively I swerved, knowing that it didn’t matter to which side. If the voice had said “pothole,” I’d have likely panicked, but chuckholes are by definition pretty small. The danger was easily avoided. And so began today’s talk with God…
“Where are you?” I asked. “I am here,” God replied. “There has never been a time or a place that I could not so answer, to those capable of asking.”
Recognizing this as a unique opportunity, I decided to be bold. “I had a few things I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a little time to visit while I ride?” “Of course,” God replied. “I have all the time in the world.”
“Keep your eye on the path,” God said gently. “Oh, so you know I’ve been studying Taoism and Buddhism?” I asked. “Of course,” God replied. “There is nothing about you that I don’t know.” Suddenly I felt the surface change beneath my wheels as the ground suddenly transitioned with a bump from smooth pavement to rocks and grass. I snapped my focus back to my course, and realized I’d continued straight when the track turned. I wrestled my bike back onto the trail, worried that I’d broken the connection…
“Like I said,” God chuckled. “Keep your eye on the path. Your Buddhism calls it ‘Right mindfulness.’”
“Oh, thanks,” I answered. “I was afraid you’d left me.” “I never leave you,” God said. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. You are part of me, and I am all of you. How could I leave you?” Hmmm, food for thought, I thought to myself. “One would hope so,” God replied.
“Keep your eye on the path,” God repeated, as I nearly missed a monstrous dip in the roadway. “Or else park your bike and be still. You’re making me nervous.” “Really?” I asked. “No, of course not,” God laughed aloud. “I was pulling your leg. I don’t get nervous – that’s a human frailty and I don’t have such weaknesses.” “Oh,” I responded meekly.
“You’ve done walking meditation,” God said. “Think of this as riding meditation. Pay sufficient attention to your course, and the balance to our conversation, and ignore anything else that comes along.” “Do you think I can do that?” I asked. “You can do anything your mind and body will allow,” God replied. “This is well within your capabilities.” Woo hoo, God expressing confidence in me. Talk about a pick-me-up…
“So, tell me what you want to talk about,” God prompted. “Don’t you know?” I asked half jokingly, not considering at the time I might be putting myself in line for a smiting. “Of course I do,” God replied. “And don’t be a wise ass. You’re the one who formulated this exchange as a conversation, and I’m finding it interesting. If you don’t want to talk, just say the word. I’ve got plenty of other things I can be doing.” “No, no,” I pleaded. “I’m sorry for smarting off and I do want to talk, really I do.” “Ok, then,” God said. “Let’s talk.”
“Well, yesterday at my AA meeting the topic was faith and forgiveness,” I began. “I’ve gotten fairly good at forgiveness, I think, but have never been big on faith. I mean, to me it’s a weakness – nothing more than a combination of baseless belief and human will. Am I wrong?”
“Are we having this conversation?” God asked in an amused tone. “Well,” I stammered. “It certainly seems to me that we are. But it’s all in my head, really. Isn’t it?” “And what has that got to do with anything?” God asked. “Everything that you know and think you know or have seen or heard or experienced or ever will experience is in your head, now isn’t it?” “That’s where I process and save these events,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, does it?” Of course not,” God laughed aloud. “The whole ‘realism’ versus ‘idealism’ argument, eh? I find it quite amusing. I mean, not that it is totally without validity, but humans have an entertaining habit of taking valid philosophical constructs to hilarious extremes. Don’t you think?”
Suddenly I had an epiphany as if struck by a bolt from the blue. “You laughed,” I shouted. “And that’s not the first time.” God snorted at this. “Of course I laughed,” God gasped while regaining control. “Why wouldn’t I?” “But, that means you have a sense of humor,” I exclaimed. “That’s a human emotion.” “Is it?” God suddenly turned serious. “Isn’t it?” I replied. “”Well of course not,” God chuckled again. “Many sentient beings have a sense of humor besides humans. Have you never watched animals play tricks on one another? Of course you have. Cats and dogs and monkeys and squirrels and birds. And these are only a few in your world. Humor and laughter, or what you call laughter, is universal. The best human word for it is joy. All of higher beings capable of emotion experience this, precisely because it is one of my primary characteristics.” “Really?” This was starting to get quite interesting…
“So, do you get sad?” I asked. “No, that one is more rare,” God replied. “I know what your sadness is, of course, because it is part of me. And other beings both in your world and others feel sadness. But, no, I don’t feel sadness.”
“What about anger?” I asked. “Nope, no anger.” “But the Bible talks about you being a wrathful and vengeful God,” I challenged. “Oh, please,” God laughed again. “Do you believe everything you read?” “But the Bible is your inspired word, according to its believers.” “You are toying with me,” God said. “This is a good time for you to be thankful I am not the vengeful God of your human Bible. You don’t believe the Bible, or the Koran, or the Torah, or any of the other scriptures of any of the world’s religions, and its disingenuous for you to pretend to defend them.” “So,“ I replied. “None of them are true?” “All of them have truths in them,” God explained patiently. “But no, none of them are fully true, and how could they be?”
Confused, I asked God to explain.
“First, you need to slow down a bit. You're pulling ahead of your friends and they'll think you're trying to leave them behind. Friends are important to you, you know." True, I thought. "True dat," God laughed. "I really like that expression."
"Now, keep your eye on the path,” he directed. “And I’ll explain the tiny bit about me that you’re capable of understanding.”
And so I rode and listened…
“Where are you?” I asked. “I am here,” God replied. “There has never been a time or a place that I could not so answer, to those capable of asking.”
Recognizing this as a unique opportunity, I decided to be bold. “I had a few things I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a little time to visit while I ride?” “Of course,” God replied. “I have all the time in the world.”
“Keep your eye on the path,” God said gently. “Oh, so you know I’ve been studying Taoism and Buddhism?” I asked. “Of course,” God replied. “There is nothing about you that I don’t know.” Suddenly I felt the surface change beneath my wheels as the ground suddenly transitioned with a bump from smooth pavement to rocks and grass. I snapped my focus back to my course, and realized I’d continued straight when the track turned. I wrestled my bike back onto the trail, worried that I’d broken the connection…
“Like I said,” God chuckled. “Keep your eye on the path. Your Buddhism calls it ‘Right mindfulness.’”
“Oh, thanks,” I answered. “I was afraid you’d left me.” “I never leave you,” God said. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. You are part of me, and I am all of you. How could I leave you?” Hmmm, food for thought, I thought to myself. “One would hope so,” God replied.
“Keep your eye on the path,” God repeated, as I nearly missed a monstrous dip in the roadway. “Or else park your bike and be still. You’re making me nervous.” “Really?” I asked. “No, of course not,” God laughed aloud. “I was pulling your leg. I don’t get nervous – that’s a human frailty and I don’t have such weaknesses.” “Oh,” I responded meekly.
“You’ve done walking meditation,” God said. “Think of this as riding meditation. Pay sufficient attention to your course, and the balance to our conversation, and ignore anything else that comes along.” “Do you think I can do that?” I asked. “You can do anything your mind and body will allow,” God replied. “This is well within your capabilities.” Woo hoo, God expressing confidence in me. Talk about a pick-me-up…
“So, tell me what you want to talk about,” God prompted. “Don’t you know?” I asked half jokingly, not considering at the time I might be putting myself in line for a smiting. “Of course I do,” God replied. “And don’t be a wise ass. You’re the one who formulated this exchange as a conversation, and I’m finding it interesting. If you don’t want to talk, just say the word. I’ve got plenty of other things I can be doing.” “No, no,” I pleaded. “I’m sorry for smarting off and I do want to talk, really I do.” “Ok, then,” God said. “Let’s talk.”
“Well, yesterday at my AA meeting the topic was faith and forgiveness,” I began. “I’ve gotten fairly good at forgiveness, I think, but have never been big on faith. I mean, to me it’s a weakness – nothing more than a combination of baseless belief and human will. Am I wrong?”
“Are we having this conversation?” God asked in an amused tone. “Well,” I stammered. “It certainly seems to me that we are. But it’s all in my head, really. Isn’t it?” “And what has that got to do with anything?” God asked. “Everything that you know and think you know or have seen or heard or experienced or ever will experience is in your head, now isn’t it?” “That’s where I process and save these events,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, does it?” Of course not,” God laughed aloud. “The whole ‘realism’ versus ‘idealism’ argument, eh? I find it quite amusing. I mean, not that it is totally without validity, but humans have an entertaining habit of taking valid philosophical constructs to hilarious extremes. Don’t you think?”
Suddenly I had an epiphany as if struck by a bolt from the blue. “You laughed,” I shouted. “And that’s not the first time.” God snorted at this. “Of course I laughed,” God gasped while regaining control. “Why wouldn’t I?” “But, that means you have a sense of humor,” I exclaimed. “That’s a human emotion.” “Is it?” God suddenly turned serious. “Isn’t it?” I replied. “”Well of course not,” God chuckled again. “Many sentient beings have a sense of humor besides humans. Have you never watched animals play tricks on one another? Of course you have. Cats and dogs and monkeys and squirrels and birds. And these are only a few in your world. Humor and laughter, or what you call laughter, is universal. The best human word for it is joy. All of higher beings capable of emotion experience this, precisely because it is one of my primary characteristics.” “Really?” This was starting to get quite interesting…
“So, do you get sad?” I asked. “No, that one is more rare,” God replied. “I know what your sadness is, of course, because it is part of me. And other beings both in your world and others feel sadness. But, no, I don’t feel sadness.”
“What about anger?” I asked. “Nope, no anger.” “But the Bible talks about you being a wrathful and vengeful God,” I challenged. “Oh, please,” God laughed again. “Do you believe everything you read?” “But the Bible is your inspired word, according to its believers.” “You are toying with me,” God said. “This is a good time for you to be thankful I am not the vengeful God of your human Bible. You don’t believe the Bible, or the Koran, or the Torah, or any of the other scriptures of any of the world’s religions, and its disingenuous for you to pretend to defend them.” “So,“ I replied. “None of them are true?” “All of them have truths in them,” God explained patiently. “But no, none of them are fully true, and how could they be?”
Confused, I asked God to explain.
“First, you need to slow down a bit. You're pulling ahead of your friends and they'll think you're trying to leave them behind. Friends are important to you, you know." True, I thought. "True dat," God laughed. "I really like that expression."
"Now, keep your eye on the path,” he directed. “And I’ll explain the tiny bit about me that you’re capable of understanding.”
And so I rode and listened…
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Happy Is as Happy Does...
So, I don't think I've mentioned that my recent college graduate got himself a full-time job peripherally related to his field of study less than a month after finishing classes. In this economy, we grown-ups know how big a deal this is - had to explain it to him, as they don't teach gratitude, appreciation or "whew" in college these days. I think he gets it, though...
He's always been the one I've worried about - a sensitive lad who I never understood and largely ignored during his formative years because I didn't understand him. He's never shown an ounce of ambition, other than aspiring to be a benevolent ruler of the world during a relatively brief phase he long ago outgrew. Prior and since, he's pretty much lived in his trash strewn cave with a pair of headsets on, gaming or surfing or playing one of his axes or video gaming - emerging to eat, iron pants and shirts (yeah, not sure what that's about), and meandering off to school or work.
He's worked part time since starting college - one of these grindingly reliable workers who had the good fortune to land a work-study data entry job which allowed him to utilize his 9,000 wpm error-free keyboard skills while only using .ooo374 percent of his grey matter...
Since he started preschool, it has been a daily ritual for me to ask him how his day had been. And since he started preschool, if he chose to respond at all, the answer has been along the lines of, "Okay," or "Hmmmm," or some unintelligible grunting noise. Some rituals exist for rituals' sake, you know. I've kept it up through his college years, and when he started working. I asked because I cared, and wanted him to know I cared. And I accepted his answer because, well, what the hell else was I going to do? Beat it out of him? I was a pretty shitty father, but even I know that's not the way to go. Only time will tell how badly I fucked him up - he won't admit it yet. He really does seem to be doing pretty well so far. In his own way... (He hates my elipses, so just threw a few in to get his goat.)
Oh, did I mention he is astronomically brilliant? No? Sorry. He's astronomically brilliant. For the longest time I worried that he would be the world's smartest person getting by in life by spitting on windshields and asking for quarters. I'm hoping/thinking I was way off on that one...
Anyway, he's been at his new job for a few weeks now, so, keeping the ritual alive, I ask him every evening how his day was. And every evening the answer has been along the lines of, "Okay," or "Hmmmm," or some unintelligible grunting noise. Life can be interesting that way, you know?
So I decided to step it up a notch the other evening, and asked, "But are you having fun?" To which the world's smartest kid, who like his father doesn't seem to much have fun, but who is thankfully not getting by in life by spitting on windshields and asking for quarters, answered, "If you're not having fun, maybe you should be doing some other kind of work." See? I told you. Smart kid, eh?
Of course, I was dumbstruck. Speechless. Shocked. Amazed. Confused. The whole idea of having fun at work and enjoying what I do for a living is pretty alien to me. I mean, I'm apparently not very happy anyway, something that I've only recently come to realize. And I've been working pretty steadily since I was about ten years old. And yes, I'm a grinder, too - vacation is an alien concept, and I rack up unused PTO the way most people collect pennies as pocket change. And its not like I've never had an enjoyable moment working, because of course I have. Why hell, I'd even go so far as to say that in four decades of working I've probably been excited to go to work at least, oh...maybe...twenty or thirty times. Maybe? Hmmm....
But let's not dwell on how sad it is to be me. Because really, it's not. I'm a slow starter, but I'm starting to understand that there might be some happiness in my future, possibly even while working. Maybe? But recently I've started figuring out at least a little bit how and where to find it - happiness, that is, outside of work for the most part. On the happiness count, I'm feeling pretty good about the going forward part of my life - have never been very adept at looking back and have no immediate plans at improving that skill set...
Rather, let's dwell on how excited I am that both of my kids have made it to adulthood remarkably well-balanced, given the rather useless influence I was on their lives. They are unencumbered by unwieldy relationships, unhealthy addictions, unplanned progeny, unwelcome criminal records. Woo hoo! We win!!!
And let's focus on the fact that they realize there is way more to life than work, but that, as they are possibly going to spend the majority of their waking hours for the next few decades working, they should at least be doing something they enjoy and which gives them some satisfaction. I can only imagine that they, two very sharp youngsters, came to this realization by growing up in a household with two parents who spent the majority of our waking hours working, and who for the most part seemed generally unhappy doing what we did. I guess when I think about it, I managed to convey something valuable to them despite my myriad parental shortcomings. I didn't have any way of teaching them how to be happy, because I've not yet quite figured it out even now. Instead, through an unintended but apparently effective exercise in negative reinforcement - by discouraging them from following in my footsteps, I perhaps taught them how to not be miserable. I suppose there are worse places to start out one's working life...
Knowing something and turning that knowledge into meaningful action are two entirely different things. I've long appreciated Thoreau's observation: "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." To date, I have. Going forward, I won't. I'm hopeful my kids won't either. Very hopeful.
I love you, my darlings...
He's always been the one I've worried about - a sensitive lad who I never understood and largely ignored during his formative years because I didn't understand him. He's never shown an ounce of ambition, other than aspiring to be a benevolent ruler of the world during a relatively brief phase he long ago outgrew. Prior and since, he's pretty much lived in his trash strewn cave with a pair of headsets on, gaming or surfing or playing one of his axes or video gaming - emerging to eat, iron pants and shirts (yeah, not sure what that's about), and meandering off to school or work.
He's worked part time since starting college - one of these grindingly reliable workers who had the good fortune to land a work-study data entry job which allowed him to utilize his 9,000 wpm error-free keyboard skills while only using .ooo374 percent of his grey matter...
Since he started preschool, it has been a daily ritual for me to ask him how his day had been. And since he started preschool, if he chose to respond at all, the answer has been along the lines of, "Okay," or "Hmmmm," or some unintelligible grunting noise. Some rituals exist for rituals' sake, you know. I've kept it up through his college years, and when he started working. I asked because I cared, and wanted him to know I cared. And I accepted his answer because, well, what the hell else was I going to do? Beat it out of him? I was a pretty shitty father, but even I know that's not the way to go. Only time will tell how badly I fucked him up - he won't admit it yet. He really does seem to be doing pretty well so far. In his own way... (He hates my elipses, so just threw a few in to get his goat.)
Oh, did I mention he is astronomically brilliant? No? Sorry. He's astronomically brilliant. For the longest time I worried that he would be the world's smartest person getting by in life by spitting on windshields and asking for quarters. I'm hoping/thinking I was way off on that one...
Anyway, he's been at his new job for a few weeks now, so, keeping the ritual alive, I ask him every evening how his day was. And every evening the answer has been along the lines of, "Okay," or "Hmmmm," or some unintelligible grunting noise. Life can be interesting that way, you know?
So I decided to step it up a notch the other evening, and asked, "But are you having fun?" To which the world's smartest kid, who like his father doesn't seem to much have fun, but who is thankfully not getting by in life by spitting on windshields and asking for quarters, answered, "If you're not having fun, maybe you should be doing some other kind of work." See? I told you. Smart kid, eh?
Of course, I was dumbstruck. Speechless. Shocked. Amazed. Confused. The whole idea of having fun at work and enjoying what I do for a living is pretty alien to me. I mean, I'm apparently not very happy anyway, something that I've only recently come to realize. And I've been working pretty steadily since I was about ten years old. And yes, I'm a grinder, too - vacation is an alien concept, and I rack up unused PTO the way most people collect pennies as pocket change. And its not like I've never had an enjoyable moment working, because of course I have. Why hell, I'd even go so far as to say that in four decades of working I've probably been excited to go to work at least, oh...maybe...twenty or thirty times. Maybe? Hmmm....
But let's not dwell on how sad it is to be me. Because really, it's not. I'm a slow starter, but I'm starting to understand that there might be some happiness in my future, possibly even while working. Maybe? But recently I've started figuring out at least a little bit how and where to find it - happiness, that is, outside of work for the most part. On the happiness count, I'm feeling pretty good about the going forward part of my life - have never been very adept at looking back and have no immediate plans at improving that skill set...
Rather, let's dwell on how excited I am that both of my kids have made it to adulthood remarkably well-balanced, given the rather useless influence I was on their lives. They are unencumbered by unwieldy relationships, unhealthy addictions, unplanned progeny, unwelcome criminal records. Woo hoo! We win!!!
And let's focus on the fact that they realize there is way more to life than work, but that, as they are possibly going to spend the majority of their waking hours for the next few decades working, they should at least be doing something they enjoy and which gives them some satisfaction. I can only imagine that they, two very sharp youngsters, came to this realization by growing up in a household with two parents who spent the majority of our waking hours working, and who for the most part seemed generally unhappy doing what we did. I guess when I think about it, I managed to convey something valuable to them despite my myriad parental shortcomings. I didn't have any way of teaching them how to be happy, because I've not yet quite figured it out even now. Instead, through an unintended but apparently effective exercise in negative reinforcement - by discouraging them from following in my footsteps, I perhaps taught them how to not be miserable. I suppose there are worse places to start out one's working life...
Knowing something and turning that knowledge into meaningful action are two entirely different things. I've long appreciated Thoreau's observation: "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." To date, I have. Going forward, I won't. I'm hopeful my kids won't either. Very hopeful.
I love you, my darlings...
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Just Like Riding a Bicycle…
It was recently brought to my attention that I’ve not written anything about sex in a while. So sorry. And no, I’ve not given it up, exactly. You see, the wife had some pretty major “girl surgery” a few weeks back, and in deference to her tender state during her recovery (and at the insistence of her overly jovial physician), we’ve taken a little break from, err, well…you know. I think we’re at around T minus ten days or so. Not that we’re counting or anything. But, they say its just like riding a bicycle…
Ok, confession time. This post isn’t about sex. Yep, that was just a cheap marketing ploy to drag you in after my extended absence. But it is about bike riding, and life, and how the two kind of sort of relate to one another…
I went on a nice ride this morning, as I do every Sunday morning. Which, now that I think of it, used to be reserved for having sex. But that was a long time ago, and that ritual only lasted for, oh, say, a decade or two. Addicts are into ritual, in case you didn’t know. We get pretty damned cranky when our rituals get interrupted, truth be told. Now that I know I’m an addict, I’ve made it a point to replace bad rituals (no, not sex – that’s a really good ritual) with good rituals. No, other good rituals, you know? Since it’s gotten hot I’ve started going for long rides early on Sunday mornings, letting the little woman sleep in as late as she wants and then enjoy a leisurely tryst with her New York Times crosswords. Yes, we adapt with age, don’t we?
Anyway, I often ride alone, which is how I’ve gone through much of my life. Didn’t know I was alone, what with being surrounded by people who love me and all. Kind of imagine rolling down the road on a bike but with a fortress wall attached to you. Lots of weight, tough to get up hills or slow down once you’re headed downhill, and about as aerodynamic as a brick. I’m working on that…
Sometimes I ride with an old friend who is generally more interested in talking politics than he is in riding long and hard, which is ok because we both know what the deal is at the outset. He’s a great guy, in good shape despite being a bit older than me, and I try not to ride him into the ground. I do push him, though, and he’s usually only good for about half the distance I usually go. We know that going in, too, so nobody’s feelings get hurt…
Today, though, I rode with a new friend. She belongs to a group I visit with regularly, a bunch of whom have taken up riding recently. I like to think I’ve been a little bit of an inspiration to them in this regard – know they’ll all be happier and healthier for it. If it turns out I wasn’t, I’m trusting they’ll humor me in my dotage and allow me to keep believing it. I know they’re giving up smoking one after another, and that’s a good thing regardless of their motivation. I don’t take any credit for that, but am happy for them. Nothing better than a long ride or run or just a stint on the treadmill to allow the body to get your full attention regarding how you’re treating it…
Anyhow, my new friend has only been riding for a couple of months, I think she said. Quit smoking and took up riding – an excellent plan. I’ve developed the theory that it is always easier to give up a bad habit if you immediately replace it with a good one. I remember when I gave up smoking at twenty years-old – kicking a 3 pack-a-day habit that had started more than a decade earlier. Hey, I never told anyone I was a good kid. I wasn’t, believe me. Anyway, the first day I threw them away (flushed a half-carton down the toilet if memory serves), I immediately began running something like two miles a day. To the gym. Where I’d shoot hoops for an hour, lift weights, roast myself in the sauna. Nope, not a halfway guy, me. It worked. What can I say?
Ok, I digressed again. Sorry…
So, anyway, I took her on a section of the trail she hadn’t been on before, and did my best not to push her, although I think I did a bit. She’d done 20 miles yesterday, and back-to-back when you’re starting out can be tough. She did great, and we had a nice visit. Learned a little about each other and I was gratified to learn that she’s a moderate Democrat, as am I. We laughed that it just seems to never fail that if someone is happy and caring and fairly well educated, this is the camp they’re likely to be in. No offense to my seemingly happy educated friends who don’t know yet this is where you’re headed. We’re coming out of some rough times and some have developed bad habits. You’ll get there and we’ll be waiting for you…
Anyway, when she ran out of gas I saw her back to her car, reloaded my water bottles and headed out to a section of the trail I’d never been on. Turns out it wasn’t too well suited to the road bike I was riding, so I had to take it easy to save my tires. And I had to navigate unfamiliar territory a bit by feel. But I picked up familiar landmarks along the way, worked my way from lost to found, and made it back to my car, rack and home without any untoward incidents. And life kind of works that way, doesn’t it?
Like most kids, in these parts at least, I grew up on a bike. Okay, well, not really. Actually, I was one of the late bloomers, having suffered a couple of nasty wrecks when I was 5 or so, following inappropriate directions from an older brother who I now know was dead set on killing me in the nest, but which I didn’t realize at the time. As a result, I didn’t get into riding in earnest until I was probably about eight, but then I focused on making up for lost time. I got to where I could ride a wheelie on my old sting-ray for blocks, and pretty much nobody would race me. I bought my first 3-speed with my paper route money when I was about ten, then moved up to a Dawe’s Galaxy British touring bike when I was twelve or so. It cost me $300, I remember. My mother raised holy hell and my Dad said, “He earned his money he can spend it however he wants.” Thanks, Dad. And boy, did I ever put some serious miles on that thing…
Then…hmmm. Now that I think of it, I quit riding bikes about the time I started thinking about sex. I got so busy then with sex and drinking and drugs and music and acting the fool, riding a bike never again crossed my mind. As a matter of fact, prior to a couple of years ago, I think I only took one semi-serious ride on a bike when I was about 30, outside of demonstrating techniques for my daughter who turned into a serious kid rider in the neighborhood for a short while, and my son who never did get the hang of it and can’t ride to this day. Interestingly, she’s an excellent driver, while he really, really needs to live someplace with efficient mass transit. Am not sure whether there’s a correlation or not, but maybe…
Anyway, my thought between the correlation of bike riding and life goes something like this:
We can choose to ride alone, or with friends. For most of us its probably best that we do a little of each. It doesn’t seem right to drag someone, particularly a novice, down a path we’ve never been before, but even more wrong to not ever explore something new. They call it getting in a rut for a reason, and any cyclist who has been around awhile knows what I’m talking about, and how much this is something to avoid. When I first started into my spiritual studies, I remember an author suggesting that the best route is to travel a path that someone has been before, because it’s been proven. And I’m comfortable riding in someone’s wake for a bit, but can’t buy into the notion that this is by definition the best route to the destination, nor even that his or her destination is the right destination for me…
When we’re not riding alone, it is good to ride with old friends from time to time, but also with new friends. They say that familiarity breeds contempt, but I’m not sure that’s always the case. Sometimes I feel like talking politics, and sometimes I know he needs to. And sometimes old friends will find a shaded trailway out in the country the ideal time to share some current pain or achievement. Riding with new friends, though, gives us a chance to expand our horizons – to learn new things about others we didn’t, and in the course of that maybe learn a little about ourselves. It allows us to empathize with where they are in their development, perhaps assist in some small way, to be reminded of where we are in our own and how we got there, and to take stock of whether that’s where we want to be…
And while we’re riding through life, we learn how important it is to keep our eye on the road, but not to become so fixated on the course we fail to appreciate the pair of mallards wheeling in for a silent landing on the mirror surface of the river, the squirrels chasing each other merrily up a tree, the beauty of a thunderhead towering against a crimson sunset or the shimmer of the first break of dawn in the east as we set forth to beat the heat of the day. We learn to appreciate the power of the wind, fighting us or helping us along, and to take advantage of the long downhill to gather speed without losing control, with the momentum from the plunge and our weight on the pedals pressing us up the next challenging climb, adjusting our efforts and gearing and breathing to make the summit and see what lies beyond…
And then, of course, there’s always sex…
Ok, confession time. This post isn’t about sex. Yep, that was just a cheap marketing ploy to drag you in after my extended absence. But it is about bike riding, and life, and how the two kind of sort of relate to one another…
I went on a nice ride this morning, as I do every Sunday morning. Which, now that I think of it, used to be reserved for having sex. But that was a long time ago, and that ritual only lasted for, oh, say, a decade or two. Addicts are into ritual, in case you didn’t know. We get pretty damned cranky when our rituals get interrupted, truth be told. Now that I know I’m an addict, I’ve made it a point to replace bad rituals (no, not sex – that’s a really good ritual) with good rituals. No, other good rituals, you know? Since it’s gotten hot I’ve started going for long rides early on Sunday mornings, letting the little woman sleep in as late as she wants and then enjoy a leisurely tryst with her New York Times crosswords. Yes, we adapt with age, don’t we?
Anyway, I often ride alone, which is how I’ve gone through much of my life. Didn’t know I was alone, what with being surrounded by people who love me and all. Kind of imagine rolling down the road on a bike but with a fortress wall attached to you. Lots of weight, tough to get up hills or slow down once you’re headed downhill, and about as aerodynamic as a brick. I’m working on that…
Sometimes I ride with an old friend who is generally more interested in talking politics than he is in riding long and hard, which is ok because we both know what the deal is at the outset. He’s a great guy, in good shape despite being a bit older than me, and I try not to ride him into the ground. I do push him, though, and he’s usually only good for about half the distance I usually go. We know that going in, too, so nobody’s feelings get hurt…
Today, though, I rode with a new friend. She belongs to a group I visit with regularly, a bunch of whom have taken up riding recently. I like to think I’ve been a little bit of an inspiration to them in this regard – know they’ll all be happier and healthier for it. If it turns out I wasn’t, I’m trusting they’ll humor me in my dotage and allow me to keep believing it. I know they’re giving up smoking one after another, and that’s a good thing regardless of their motivation. I don’t take any credit for that, but am happy for them. Nothing better than a long ride or run or just a stint on the treadmill to allow the body to get your full attention regarding how you’re treating it…
Anyhow, my new friend has only been riding for a couple of months, I think she said. Quit smoking and took up riding – an excellent plan. I’ve developed the theory that it is always easier to give up a bad habit if you immediately replace it with a good one. I remember when I gave up smoking at twenty years-old – kicking a 3 pack-a-day habit that had started more than a decade earlier. Hey, I never told anyone I was a good kid. I wasn’t, believe me. Anyway, the first day I threw them away (flushed a half-carton down the toilet if memory serves), I immediately began running something like two miles a day. To the gym. Where I’d shoot hoops for an hour, lift weights, roast myself in the sauna. Nope, not a halfway guy, me. It worked. What can I say?
Ok, I digressed again. Sorry…
So, anyway, I took her on a section of the trail she hadn’t been on before, and did my best not to push her, although I think I did a bit. She’d done 20 miles yesterday, and back-to-back when you’re starting out can be tough. She did great, and we had a nice visit. Learned a little about each other and I was gratified to learn that she’s a moderate Democrat, as am I. We laughed that it just seems to never fail that if someone is happy and caring and fairly well educated, this is the camp they’re likely to be in. No offense to my seemingly happy educated friends who don’t know yet this is where you’re headed. We’re coming out of some rough times and some have developed bad habits. You’ll get there and we’ll be waiting for you…
Anyway, when she ran out of gas I saw her back to her car, reloaded my water bottles and headed out to a section of the trail I’d never been on. Turns out it wasn’t too well suited to the road bike I was riding, so I had to take it easy to save my tires. And I had to navigate unfamiliar territory a bit by feel. But I picked up familiar landmarks along the way, worked my way from lost to found, and made it back to my car, rack and home without any untoward incidents. And life kind of works that way, doesn’t it?
Like most kids, in these parts at least, I grew up on a bike. Okay, well, not really. Actually, I was one of the late bloomers, having suffered a couple of nasty wrecks when I was 5 or so, following inappropriate directions from an older brother who I now know was dead set on killing me in the nest, but which I didn’t realize at the time. As a result, I didn’t get into riding in earnest until I was probably about eight, but then I focused on making up for lost time. I got to where I could ride a wheelie on my old sting-ray for blocks, and pretty much nobody would race me. I bought my first 3-speed with my paper route money when I was about ten, then moved up to a Dawe’s Galaxy British touring bike when I was twelve or so. It cost me $300, I remember. My mother raised holy hell and my Dad said, “He earned his money he can spend it however he wants.” Thanks, Dad. And boy, did I ever put some serious miles on that thing…
Then…hmmm. Now that I think of it, I quit riding bikes about the time I started thinking about sex. I got so busy then with sex and drinking and drugs and music and acting the fool, riding a bike never again crossed my mind. As a matter of fact, prior to a couple of years ago, I think I only took one semi-serious ride on a bike when I was about 30, outside of demonstrating techniques for my daughter who turned into a serious kid rider in the neighborhood for a short while, and my son who never did get the hang of it and can’t ride to this day. Interestingly, she’s an excellent driver, while he really, really needs to live someplace with efficient mass transit. Am not sure whether there’s a correlation or not, but maybe…
Anyway, my thought between the correlation of bike riding and life goes something like this:
We can choose to ride alone, or with friends. For most of us its probably best that we do a little of each. It doesn’t seem right to drag someone, particularly a novice, down a path we’ve never been before, but even more wrong to not ever explore something new. They call it getting in a rut for a reason, and any cyclist who has been around awhile knows what I’m talking about, and how much this is something to avoid. When I first started into my spiritual studies, I remember an author suggesting that the best route is to travel a path that someone has been before, because it’s been proven. And I’m comfortable riding in someone’s wake for a bit, but can’t buy into the notion that this is by definition the best route to the destination, nor even that his or her destination is the right destination for me…
When we’re not riding alone, it is good to ride with old friends from time to time, but also with new friends. They say that familiarity breeds contempt, but I’m not sure that’s always the case. Sometimes I feel like talking politics, and sometimes I know he needs to. And sometimes old friends will find a shaded trailway out in the country the ideal time to share some current pain or achievement. Riding with new friends, though, gives us a chance to expand our horizons – to learn new things about others we didn’t, and in the course of that maybe learn a little about ourselves. It allows us to empathize with where they are in their development, perhaps assist in some small way, to be reminded of where we are in our own and how we got there, and to take stock of whether that’s where we want to be…
And while we’re riding through life, we learn how important it is to keep our eye on the road, but not to become so fixated on the course we fail to appreciate the pair of mallards wheeling in for a silent landing on the mirror surface of the river, the squirrels chasing each other merrily up a tree, the beauty of a thunderhead towering against a crimson sunset or the shimmer of the first break of dawn in the east as we set forth to beat the heat of the day. We learn to appreciate the power of the wind, fighting us or helping us along, and to take advantage of the long downhill to gather speed without losing control, with the momentum from the plunge and our weight on the pedals pressing us up the next challenging climb, adjusting our efforts and gearing and breathing to make the summit and see what lies beyond…
And then, of course, there’s always sex…
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Anchors aweigh
To "weigh anchor" is to bring it aboard a vessel in preparation for departure. The phrase "anchor's aweigh" is a report that the anchor is clear of the sea bottom and, therefore, the ship is officially underway. ~Wikipedia~
So, following my wife's birthday dinner last night, my youngest was in our room jabbering about whatever it is he jabbers about when he's half baked (I tend to only half listen, and in this case was half paying attention to the conversation he and she were half having while I was half reading a book and half watching television - one of those evenings, you know...), when he suddenly stopped, grinned that goofy grin of his, and stated laughingly, "I have a job." The half realizations of the half stoned...
By all the measures I've adopted to gauge milestones in my life, I think I've officially reached one. Probably a big one. My wife and I are both gainfully employed, very nearly debt-free, and have manged to raise two wonderful children who are both college graduates, both now gainfully employed, both healthy, neither in trouble with the law, burdened with unwanted progeny or encumbered in complex relationships. We have helped them build sound vessels in which to navigate the tumultuous seas of life, and they are pulling slowly away from the dock to which they've been tethered for more than two decades. Admittedly, they're still puttering around the harbor and tying back up to our craft from time to time, but like baby birds testing their wings, they will continue to flitter further and further from the nest, and soon we'll see them disappear over the horizon, headed off on their own adventure, setting their own course and guiding their own vessels through life. Fair sailing, sweethearts...
To complete this tortured analogy, I think we need to imagine ourselves players in Kevin Costner's Waterworld. You see, our "dock" is in fact nothing more than another slightly larger, slightly more solid vessel, bobbing gently on the sea of existence, anchored well but affixed firmly to nothing, for there is nothing firm to which we can or should seek to affix ourselves. And the anchor we chose to let down more than twenty years ago to stabilize ourselves while we engaged in the boat building and sailor training business is one that can be drawn up at any time. And now we are very nearly at that point where we must decide what our next destination is, hoist our sails, head our bow quartering off the prevailing breeze, and get underway. The only other choice is to sit in this same spot on the vast infinite sea of life, bobbing up and down gently at times, and storm tossed at others, but always at the mercy of whatever intentionally or unintentionally floats our way. And that would be a waste of potentially favorable breezes, no?
There has lately been a lot of talk in the news about Abby Sunderland, a 16 year-old who was raised on the water and whose parents launched her on a global circumnavigation that came up short when her mast was snapped by a giant wave. I feel sorry for her and for them as regards the aborted voyage, but am happy for both that she survived and is coming home safely. What a splendid adventure, and all I can say to the critics is, "Shut the fuck up!" My god, to have raised such a brave and competent young lady and entrusted to her such a spectacular journey speaks volumes on the positive side for the whole family. A 16 year-old young woman is in the prime of her life - Joan of Arc was heading toward leadership of an army at this age, for goodness sake. Abby's skills were certainly sufficient to the task she chose. Bad things happen in the sea of life, and even more so on the actual ocean, where giant waves not only snap small craft masts but swallow whole enormous vessels full of experienced sailors. That she was able to survive this lesson and have it inform the balance of her existence is a wonderful gift that most of us never experience - certainly at so early an age. It didn't kill her, so will make her stronger...
I pray that my two young allegorical sailors don't make the avoidance of challenge the cornerstone of their lives, but rather seek adventure and new experiences and to suck every morsel of living they can out of the brief years they've been allotted. I want them to keep their vessels solid, practice their craft and hone their skills, learn to read life's rips and eddies, understand the stars and and tides and currents and prevailing winds. I want them to chart their own courses and steer their own vessels and appreciate the diverse cultures and experiences that will come their way. And most of all, I want them to keep us posted from time to time on their whereabouts and conditions, to know that we will do the same, and that they are welcome to rendezvous from time to time wherever we happen to be in our travels, and to tie up or sail alongside for a bit if they are inclined. And if they get caught in a storm, lose their sails or masts or lines, and find themselves foundering, to know that we'll get to them if we can, and help them refit, stock up provisions, and get back underway. Because, after all, that's what we sailors do...
So, anchor is stowed and we're tacking to port. Let's do this thing...
So, following my wife's birthday dinner last night, my youngest was in our room jabbering about whatever it is he jabbers about when he's half baked (I tend to only half listen, and in this case was half paying attention to the conversation he and she were half having while I was half reading a book and half watching television - one of those evenings, you know...), when he suddenly stopped, grinned that goofy grin of his, and stated laughingly, "I have a job." The half realizations of the half stoned...
By all the measures I've adopted to gauge milestones in my life, I think I've officially reached one. Probably a big one. My wife and I are both gainfully employed, very nearly debt-free, and have manged to raise two wonderful children who are both college graduates, both now gainfully employed, both healthy, neither in trouble with the law, burdened with unwanted progeny or encumbered in complex relationships. We have helped them build sound vessels in which to navigate the tumultuous seas of life, and they are pulling slowly away from the dock to which they've been tethered for more than two decades. Admittedly, they're still puttering around the harbor and tying back up to our craft from time to time, but like baby birds testing their wings, they will continue to flitter further and further from the nest, and soon we'll see them disappear over the horizon, headed off on their own adventure, setting their own course and guiding their own vessels through life. Fair sailing, sweethearts...
To complete this tortured analogy, I think we need to imagine ourselves players in Kevin Costner's Waterworld. You see, our "dock" is in fact nothing more than another slightly larger, slightly more solid vessel, bobbing gently on the sea of existence, anchored well but affixed firmly to nothing, for there is nothing firm to which we can or should seek to affix ourselves. And the anchor we chose to let down more than twenty years ago to stabilize ourselves while we engaged in the boat building and sailor training business is one that can be drawn up at any time. And now we are very nearly at that point where we must decide what our next destination is, hoist our sails, head our bow quartering off the prevailing breeze, and get underway. The only other choice is to sit in this same spot on the vast infinite sea of life, bobbing up and down gently at times, and storm tossed at others, but always at the mercy of whatever intentionally or unintentionally floats our way. And that would be a waste of potentially favorable breezes, no?
There has lately been a lot of talk in the news about Abby Sunderland, a 16 year-old who was raised on the water and whose parents launched her on a global circumnavigation that came up short when her mast was snapped by a giant wave. I feel sorry for her and for them as regards the aborted voyage, but am happy for both that she survived and is coming home safely. What a splendid adventure, and all I can say to the critics is, "Shut the fuck up!" My god, to have raised such a brave and competent young lady and entrusted to her such a spectacular journey speaks volumes on the positive side for the whole family. A 16 year-old young woman is in the prime of her life - Joan of Arc was heading toward leadership of an army at this age, for goodness sake. Abby's skills were certainly sufficient to the task she chose. Bad things happen in the sea of life, and even more so on the actual ocean, where giant waves not only snap small craft masts but swallow whole enormous vessels full of experienced sailors. That she was able to survive this lesson and have it inform the balance of her existence is a wonderful gift that most of us never experience - certainly at so early an age. It didn't kill her, so will make her stronger...
I pray that my two young allegorical sailors don't make the avoidance of challenge the cornerstone of their lives, but rather seek adventure and new experiences and to suck every morsel of living they can out of the brief years they've been allotted. I want them to keep their vessels solid, practice their craft and hone their skills, learn to read life's rips and eddies, understand the stars and and tides and currents and prevailing winds. I want them to chart their own courses and steer their own vessels and appreciate the diverse cultures and experiences that will come their way. And most of all, I want them to keep us posted from time to time on their whereabouts and conditions, to know that we will do the same, and that they are welcome to rendezvous from time to time wherever we happen to be in our travels, and to tie up or sail alongside for a bit if they are inclined. And if they get caught in a storm, lose their sails or masts or lines, and find themselves foundering, to know that we'll get to them if we can, and help them refit, stock up provisions, and get back underway. Because, after all, that's what we sailors do...
So, anchor is stowed and we're tacking to port. Let's do this thing...
Friday, June 25, 2010
Juxtaposition...
So, Thursday night my son was fiddling around on the wife's laptop at the kitchen table, and opened some conversation with me about a governmental initiative ongoing regarding shareware and piracy and BitTorrent and a bunch of other things that I really don't understand, which quickly devolved into his shouting screed against government, the futility of citizen activism, and "why the hell should I vote when there's nobody to vote for..." Ah, the angst of youth...
I'm jealous, of course, as at his age I'd only voted in one election, and then not intelligently or with any passion or great conviction. I just felt, headed into my first legal opportunity to vote and already part of the green machine, that if my employer was going to stick an M-16 in my hand, a .45 on my hip, and a few grenades hanging off my flak jacket and send me into harm's way, the least I could do before shipping out was to vote. I didn't really understand how government worked, the roles or functions of political parties or lobbyists, or much of anything else. We were only slightly beyond Viet Nam and Watergate, and the standing of government in the eyes of the average teenager or any age voter for that matter was at a record low. Maybe even lower than right now...
My boy, on the other hand, was raised in an intensely political household, grew up the son of a political activist and Congressional candidate, and was responsible for building and maintaining a campaign website that was recognized at the time by a national political magazine as one of the best in Texas. Not bad for a then 12 year old, eh?
And now my youngest offspring, a decade later and after spending his life subjected to voluminous information unimaginable in my youth, constant exposure to the 24 hour news cycle, unlimited access to commentary and dissection on every stripe of matter, and political discourse across the spectrum both electronically and in person, was sitting in my kitchen expressing a somewhat reasoned angst against politics and government and the system and "the man" that hearkened back to those halcyon days of the rock era of my youth. Man, did we have great music in the 70s, or what?
I found myself trying to calmly explain to him the sometimes subtle distinctions between battles and wars, strategy and tactics, progress and perfection, participation and apathy. These aren't easy distinctions to argue with a young man who is measurably brighter than I or his peers ever hoped to be, with a mind like a razor and a passionate indifference to the efficacy of government. Only a couple of years ago, while so many of his age group, with my and others' unsubtle encouragement, were fervently supporting the candidacy of Barack Obama, this one was dripping with cynicism and scorn for "another corporate lackey," based on the seemingly irrefutable argument that a successful participant in the corporate exercise of contemporary American politics can be nothing but. The whole notion of having to vote for "the lesser of two evils" sits and sat poorly with him, and while he did vote for my candidate, it was reluctantly, and might not be repeated any time soon.
I reminded him that, while I'd failed in my 18 month campaign, a battle I'd had with the Federal Election Commission, the immediate outcome of which precipitated the whole disastrous exercise, was ultimately decided in my favor and has significantly improved the ability for an average Joe candidate to wage such a battle going forward against entrenched and monied incumbents - no small feat. I also reminded him that another battle I'd lost on its face has resulted in a significant rewrite of Texas political petition regulations, with the end result being that dozens of local option elections which hitherto would have been defeated have proven successful over intervening years. I even reminded him that, while Barack Obama had been handily defeated in my overly red home state, that we had cut the traditional GOP victory margin in half here, potentially marking a tidal change that might help unseat the incumbent Governor and mark a major shift in the state's political course. Or maybe not...
My rationale for making all these arguments was to try and encourage the lad to retain some focus and to remain involved and to care - something he's never been too big at. Which made me recall that my own apathy at his age and for more than a decade beyond was born of ignorance - a lack of concern coupled with a relative lack of information. And I then realized that his is born of the exact opposite - too much exposure, information, understanding. And yet both sets of contributing factors had brought us to not so different situations - my voting blindly in relative ignorance only because I felt it was my duty, and his refusing to participate in a dirty system over a too fine understanding of its reality. Neither being a healthy approach or winning recipe for the maintenance of a civil society...
And the final thought I had walking away from this exchange was a sense of wondering at exactly what point I had developed the patience and acceptance of nuance and imperfection that is the hallmark of an old man. And pondering whether somehow the distinction between knowledge and wisdom might somehow be contained in the answer to that question. And imagining what sort of man my son would grow up to be, and the nature of the world he would come of age in. And I remembered back to the cynicism of my own youth when I was of the conviction that bringing a child into the shitty world I lived in back then would be tantamount to a mortal sin. And I wondered how different we really are, and how much alike...
I'm jealous, of course, as at his age I'd only voted in one election, and then not intelligently or with any passion or great conviction. I just felt, headed into my first legal opportunity to vote and already part of the green machine, that if my employer was going to stick an M-16 in my hand, a .45 on my hip, and a few grenades hanging off my flak jacket and send me into harm's way, the least I could do before shipping out was to vote. I didn't really understand how government worked, the roles or functions of political parties or lobbyists, or much of anything else. We were only slightly beyond Viet Nam and Watergate, and the standing of government in the eyes of the average teenager or any age voter for that matter was at a record low. Maybe even lower than right now...
My boy, on the other hand, was raised in an intensely political household, grew up the son of a political activist and Congressional candidate, and was responsible for building and maintaining a campaign website that was recognized at the time by a national political magazine as one of the best in Texas. Not bad for a then 12 year old, eh?
And now my youngest offspring, a decade later and after spending his life subjected to voluminous information unimaginable in my youth, constant exposure to the 24 hour news cycle, unlimited access to commentary and dissection on every stripe of matter, and political discourse across the spectrum both electronically and in person, was sitting in my kitchen expressing a somewhat reasoned angst against politics and government and the system and "the man" that hearkened back to those halcyon days of the rock era of my youth. Man, did we have great music in the 70s, or what?
I found myself trying to calmly explain to him the sometimes subtle distinctions between battles and wars, strategy and tactics, progress and perfection, participation and apathy. These aren't easy distinctions to argue with a young man who is measurably brighter than I or his peers ever hoped to be, with a mind like a razor and a passionate indifference to the efficacy of government. Only a couple of years ago, while so many of his age group, with my and others' unsubtle encouragement, were fervently supporting the candidacy of Barack Obama, this one was dripping with cynicism and scorn for "another corporate lackey," based on the seemingly irrefutable argument that a successful participant in the corporate exercise of contemporary American politics can be nothing but. The whole notion of having to vote for "the lesser of two evils" sits and sat poorly with him, and while he did vote for my candidate, it was reluctantly, and might not be repeated any time soon.
I reminded him that, while I'd failed in my 18 month campaign, a battle I'd had with the Federal Election Commission, the immediate outcome of which precipitated the whole disastrous exercise, was ultimately decided in my favor and has significantly improved the ability for an average Joe candidate to wage such a battle going forward against entrenched and monied incumbents - no small feat. I also reminded him that another battle I'd lost on its face has resulted in a significant rewrite of Texas political petition regulations, with the end result being that dozens of local option elections which hitherto would have been defeated have proven successful over intervening years. I even reminded him that, while Barack Obama had been handily defeated in my overly red home state, that we had cut the traditional GOP victory margin in half here, potentially marking a tidal change that might help unseat the incumbent Governor and mark a major shift in the state's political course. Or maybe not...
My rationale for making all these arguments was to try and encourage the lad to retain some focus and to remain involved and to care - something he's never been too big at. Which made me recall that my own apathy at his age and for more than a decade beyond was born of ignorance - a lack of concern coupled with a relative lack of information. And I then realized that his is born of the exact opposite - too much exposure, information, understanding. And yet both sets of contributing factors had brought us to not so different situations - my voting blindly in relative ignorance only because I felt it was my duty, and his refusing to participate in a dirty system over a too fine understanding of its reality. Neither being a healthy approach or winning recipe for the maintenance of a civil society...
And the final thought I had walking away from this exchange was a sense of wondering at exactly what point I had developed the patience and acceptance of nuance and imperfection that is the hallmark of an old man. And pondering whether somehow the distinction between knowledge and wisdom might somehow be contained in the answer to that question. And imagining what sort of man my son would grow up to be, and the nature of the world he would come of age in. And I remembered back to the cynicism of my own youth when I was of the conviction that bringing a child into the shitty world I lived in back then would be tantamount to a mortal sin. And I wondered how different we really are, and how much alike...
Saturday, June 12, 2010
You win some...
So, kind of a frustrating week at work. Yes, I know I don't blog about work, except it was my font of enlightenment this week. Life is like a box of chocolates, you know?
My business, by the way, is human trafficking. Yes, really. In my professional life I'm an executive recruiter - a headhunter in everyday parlance. Its been an interesting and sometimes lucrative gig, but obviously tough in an economy that spent last year shedding jobs at a record pace, with this year seeing an uptick, but only slightly. Now we're eating bugs instead of sawdust, if you catch my drift. Enough to live on but nowhere near enough to thrive on. Our industry has shed roughly half the folks who were in it at the start of 2008, and not a one is eating as well as they were back then. It is a tough job in the best of circumstances, and these aren't those...
Anyway, Thursday morning we were nearing the end of a long week of negotiations on a high-level deal I was brokering. In my business these days, every deal is tedious. Clients are reluctant to spend top dollar in a market that is supposedly awash in qualified desperate talent, and candidates are busting their humps trying to get all they can from the deal, reluctant to cheaply turn loose of their bird in the hand, if you catch my drift. Trying to get all they can from someone who doesn't want to spend a penny more than required. Are you feeling the disconnect yet?
This project was made more tedious by the fact that the hiring company, while strongly financed, is effectively a start-up in a very precarious sector in which the talent pool is quite sparse, and the candidate they'd finally settled on was passive - meaning he is gainfully and securely employed by a sound company and wasn't looking for a new opportunity when I found him, with very strong compensation and benefits, and with no real threat to his position. To use the a sock-hop analogy, he was the handsomest boy in the room by far, albeit one quiet and quite comfortable standing in the corner by himself watching everyone else spinning and gyrating and making fools of themselves on the dance floor...
Without going into details, he knocked the socks off his suitor, to the degree their socks were knockable. They had multiple visits by phone and in person, and a love fest ensued. Earlier in the year they'd settled on two other prospects not from my stable, but had been unsuccessful in their approach to either, which is why I was invited into the game. This go-round they informed me they had settled on my candidate, setting aside other contenders and confident they could get him into bed or up to the altar or both. Neither party would be super specific in how far they were willing to go to get the deal done, as, if you'll recall, the buyer is reluctant to pay and the seller is reluctant to sell. He was open about his top concerns, and these were shared with the client, who crafted a fairly generous offer for the market and their richest to date by far. Unfortunately, it only responded weakly to his three major concerns, while offering a few perks that he liked but hadn't asked for, and which he didn't value overly highly. Uh-oh...
Without boring you to death with detail, suffice to say that the week which could and should have been spent in hearty celebration of a deal well done instead devolved into protracted and intense bargaining, with both parties talking past each other, acting on their own fears and concerns rather than listening closely to the other and seeking to find a workable middle ground. Sort of like Washington, now that I think of it...
On Thursday morning, while conversing with my client, he said, "You must have the worst job in the world. You get the right people together, share information as best you can to help make the deal work, but in the end you have absolutely no control over the outcome. None." Welcome to my world...
In my last conversation with the candidate yesterday, he told me I'd been wonderful to work with, that it had been an interesting experience, and shared his view that nobody had lost anything in the process. In the end the client had just proven unwilling to adequately address his concerns. The client indicated that they remain impressed with my work - said that he was proud of their effort and of the package they'd offered, which was indeed impressive, and that the candidate was unreasonable. And so, after a process which took more than three weeks of intensive closing activity following a months-long search, the candidate was right where he started with little likelihood of advancing his career in the exponential manner this opportunity afforded. The clients, proud of their steadfastness, remain without a Chief Operating Officer. And I am left in the dust with nothing to show for my efforts...
I told a few friends yesterday evening that I really wished I still drank, as this would definitely have been one of those evenings, if ever there was one. Instead, I sat in my Friday night AA meeting and listened more closely than usual to the Serenity Prayer we open with: "God, grant me the serenity to accept those things I cannot change, the strength to change those things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Amen.
My business, by the way, is human trafficking. Yes, really. In my professional life I'm an executive recruiter - a headhunter in everyday parlance. Its been an interesting and sometimes lucrative gig, but obviously tough in an economy that spent last year shedding jobs at a record pace, with this year seeing an uptick, but only slightly. Now we're eating bugs instead of sawdust, if you catch my drift. Enough to live on but nowhere near enough to thrive on. Our industry has shed roughly half the folks who were in it at the start of 2008, and not a one is eating as well as they were back then. It is a tough job in the best of circumstances, and these aren't those...
Anyway, Thursday morning we were nearing the end of a long week of negotiations on a high-level deal I was brokering. In my business these days, every deal is tedious. Clients are reluctant to spend top dollar in a market that is supposedly awash in qualified desperate talent, and candidates are busting their humps trying to get all they can from the deal, reluctant to cheaply turn loose of their bird in the hand, if you catch my drift. Trying to get all they can from someone who doesn't want to spend a penny more than required. Are you feeling the disconnect yet?
This project was made more tedious by the fact that the hiring company, while strongly financed, is effectively a start-up in a very precarious sector in which the talent pool is quite sparse, and the candidate they'd finally settled on was passive - meaning he is gainfully and securely employed by a sound company and wasn't looking for a new opportunity when I found him, with very strong compensation and benefits, and with no real threat to his position. To use the a sock-hop analogy, he was the handsomest boy in the room by far, albeit one quiet and quite comfortable standing in the corner by himself watching everyone else spinning and gyrating and making fools of themselves on the dance floor...
Without going into details, he knocked the socks off his suitor, to the degree their socks were knockable. They had multiple visits by phone and in person, and a love fest ensued. Earlier in the year they'd settled on two other prospects not from my stable, but had been unsuccessful in their approach to either, which is why I was invited into the game. This go-round they informed me they had settled on my candidate, setting aside other contenders and confident they could get him into bed or up to the altar or both. Neither party would be super specific in how far they were willing to go to get the deal done, as, if you'll recall, the buyer is reluctant to pay and the seller is reluctant to sell. He was open about his top concerns, and these were shared with the client, who crafted a fairly generous offer for the market and their richest to date by far. Unfortunately, it only responded weakly to his three major concerns, while offering a few perks that he liked but hadn't asked for, and which he didn't value overly highly. Uh-oh...
Without boring you to death with detail, suffice to say that the week which could and should have been spent in hearty celebration of a deal well done instead devolved into protracted and intense bargaining, with both parties talking past each other, acting on their own fears and concerns rather than listening closely to the other and seeking to find a workable middle ground. Sort of like Washington, now that I think of it...
On Thursday morning, while conversing with my client, he said, "You must have the worst job in the world. You get the right people together, share information as best you can to help make the deal work, but in the end you have absolutely no control over the outcome. None." Welcome to my world...
In my last conversation with the candidate yesterday, he told me I'd been wonderful to work with, that it had been an interesting experience, and shared his view that nobody had lost anything in the process. In the end the client had just proven unwilling to adequately address his concerns. The client indicated that they remain impressed with my work - said that he was proud of their effort and of the package they'd offered, which was indeed impressive, and that the candidate was unreasonable. And so, after a process which took more than three weeks of intensive closing activity following a months-long search, the candidate was right where he started with little likelihood of advancing his career in the exponential manner this opportunity afforded. The clients, proud of their steadfastness, remain without a Chief Operating Officer. And I am left in the dust with nothing to show for my efforts...
I told a few friends yesterday evening that I really wished I still drank, as this would definitely have been one of those evenings, if ever there was one. Instead, I sat in my Friday night AA meeting and listened more closely than usual to the Serenity Prayer we open with: "God, grant me the serenity to accept those things I cannot change, the strength to change those things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Amen.
Friday, June 4, 2010
On God and stuff...
I begin by apologizing for taking last weekend off. I know a few of you really look forward to seeing what sort of drivel I'll spew each weekend - hope you found a satisfactory substitute. It was Memorial Day weekend after all, and we have been having a bit of a rocky time around the old homestead, and the Mineral Wells Trailway did beckon me and my bicycle, and...well, sometimes, we all just need to take a break from whatever habits we form, be they good or bad. Habits, I think, are by definition confining - sometimes comforting and sometimes destructive, but in any case limiting if we allow them to be. But here I am, back for another round...
So, I'm pretty sure that way back toward the beginning of this thing I probably mentioned the corollaries between AA and Buddhism. Yes? Now I always fret a bit about describing myself as a Buddhist, because I have friends who are real Buddhists - sitting zazen and reading sutras and following the Noble Eightfold Path. I'm not one of these, and may never be. And I'm sure I have alcoholic friends who will argue whether I am an alcoholic at all, given that when I finally decided to quit I quit, and that while few who knew me prior to a year ago would recognize me without a drink of some sort in hand or nearby, thankfully far fewer ever saw me totally shit-faced, which didn't happen often but was never a pretty sight. Or experience. For me or anyone near me. My alcoholic doubter friends are, as a general rule, not in the program...
The appeal to me of both AA and Buddhism, and even more so Taoism, which probably more accurately describes my spiritual path, is that they are decidedly non-hierarchical, have suggested readings and texts but nothing accepted rigidly as the infallible scripture, and have rules, if you can call them that, which are so simple and malleable they hardly count as rules as all. Nobody baptizes you into the fold, and nobody can kick you out. The whole load is on me, or you, the individual practitioner, and we own alone whatever successes or failures we achieve in either medium. Pretty empowering, huh? If we do well in these circumstances, its a major ego-boost, right?
Which is interesting, because the most crucial corollaries between recovery from addiction and The Path are a heightened sense of awareness and the absolute elimination of the ego. These are the objectives, anyway. Now some in AA might argue with me on this, and as I don't argue this could prove frustrating. Sorry...
We hear in our meeting rooms with great regularity, "Give it over to God." For those of us successfully recovering in the program but who aren't believers in a conventional God model, though, what many of us hear is, "Get out of yourself already." The God thing can be a real challenge for many, and I think that's too bad, because the point is not so much to have a powerful omnipotent vigilant being to watch over us and take up our individual burdens when the need arises, as it is to recognize and admit our insignificance and inability to, on our own, overcome the vast forces of the universe outside of our selves, or the greater challenge of the ego we confuse as our selves. So, the ego is the enemy, and full awareness is our ability to recognize the enemy when it rears its head, ignore it as the fallacy it is, and accept our connectedness with the universe in all its manifestations. I guess I've often thought of the separate stand-alone God man created in his image to be sort of a manifestation of humanity's ego, but that's probably a philosophical discussion best left for another time.
So, what's my point? Well...
As I am rapidly approaching the one year anniversary of committing to making alcohol powerless over me, and accepting myself to be powerless over alcohol without help, I continue to stumble soberly along the spiritual path, seeking a keener understanding of myself, an awareness of and growing disdain for my ego, a sense of connection with all manifestations of the universe, a desire for a simpler and saner life coupled with a grudging acceptance of the one I have. Daily I come upon answers to questions asked and unasked, but each one spawns another. It is as when we develop more powerful telescopes and microscopes and other investigative tools and techniques, and come to realize that the better we see, the more there is to see. I detect no lessening of this phenomenon in my own physical or spiritual life, nor in the endless quest for understanding that too small a contingent of mankind is engaged in. And so, recognizing the incredibly finite nature of my mortal existence, and hoping to derive as much from it and contribute as much to it as I can, I am settling comfortably onto the path which reveals itself to me each day, a path which is connected to all other paths, which connects me to all other beings, which meanders through and is dependent on the totality of the universe seen and unseen. And I am committing myself to being grateful every day for the gift of my human life, for self-awareness despite the fallacy of the self, and for a mind and spirit that allows me to put it all in a wonderful wondrous harmonious context and to marvel at its fantastic intricacies.
In closing, let me say that in sharing these meager thoughts I do not intend to belittle any reader's belief in some particular manifestation of God. I am comfortable in my own lack of understanding of the unknown and unknowable, and pray the same for all my friends. For some God is Allah, and for others the Judeo-Christian God as portrayed by Charlton Heston or James Caviezel; for some Vishnu or one of his pantheon of lesser Gods. Many consider earth to be God, or Mother Nature. My wife, who was raised Jewish, is certain that God is a Golden Retriever, and who am I to say otherwise? The point is that, for the addict or alcoholic, or really for anyone of curious mind and searching spirit, the image we conjure up to establish a relationship with our higher power is insignificant relative to our having that relationship. I love to paraphrase a quote I once read but can't now lay my hands on, attributed to Buddha, perhaps from his dialogue with Ananthapindika, in which the Buddha is reported to have said, "There is so much in life that we can know, and so much that we can never know - it is best to focus on that which we can know."
Following is a light rewrite of the traditional 12 steps that I generated in my earliest days, to help me get beyond the "God thing" which too many in need find a barrier to joining the program that has helped so many. If it helps you, feel free to adopt it as you own.
12 Steps to Sobriety for Non-Christians, Atheists and Agnostics
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to align our will and our lives with our Higher Power.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to our Higher Power, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Became entirely ready to allow total alignment with our Higher Power to eliminate all our defects of character.
7. Humbly aligned ourselves with our Higher Power to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and, when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through study and meditation to improve our alignment with our Higher Power, seeking only knowledge of our proper role in the Universe and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
So, I'm pretty sure that way back toward the beginning of this thing I probably mentioned the corollaries between AA and Buddhism. Yes? Now I always fret a bit about describing myself as a Buddhist, because I have friends who are real Buddhists - sitting zazen and reading sutras and following the Noble Eightfold Path. I'm not one of these, and may never be. And I'm sure I have alcoholic friends who will argue whether I am an alcoholic at all, given that when I finally decided to quit I quit, and that while few who knew me prior to a year ago would recognize me without a drink of some sort in hand or nearby, thankfully far fewer ever saw me totally shit-faced, which didn't happen often but was never a pretty sight. Or experience. For me or anyone near me. My alcoholic doubter friends are, as a general rule, not in the program...
The appeal to me of both AA and Buddhism, and even more so Taoism, which probably more accurately describes my spiritual path, is that they are decidedly non-hierarchical, have suggested readings and texts but nothing accepted rigidly as the infallible scripture, and have rules, if you can call them that, which are so simple and malleable they hardly count as rules as all. Nobody baptizes you into the fold, and nobody can kick you out. The whole load is on me, or you, the individual practitioner, and we own alone whatever successes or failures we achieve in either medium. Pretty empowering, huh? If we do well in these circumstances, its a major ego-boost, right?
Which is interesting, because the most crucial corollaries between recovery from addiction and The Path are a heightened sense of awareness and the absolute elimination of the ego. These are the objectives, anyway. Now some in AA might argue with me on this, and as I don't argue this could prove frustrating. Sorry...
We hear in our meeting rooms with great regularity, "Give it over to God." For those of us successfully recovering in the program but who aren't believers in a conventional God model, though, what many of us hear is, "Get out of yourself already." The God thing can be a real challenge for many, and I think that's too bad, because the point is not so much to have a powerful omnipotent vigilant being to watch over us and take up our individual burdens when the need arises, as it is to recognize and admit our insignificance and inability to, on our own, overcome the vast forces of the universe outside of our selves, or the greater challenge of the ego we confuse as our selves. So, the ego is the enemy, and full awareness is our ability to recognize the enemy when it rears its head, ignore it as the fallacy it is, and accept our connectedness with the universe in all its manifestations. I guess I've often thought of the separate stand-alone God man created in his image to be sort of a manifestation of humanity's ego, but that's probably a philosophical discussion best left for another time.
So, what's my point? Well...
As I am rapidly approaching the one year anniversary of committing to making alcohol powerless over me, and accepting myself to be powerless over alcohol without help, I continue to stumble soberly along the spiritual path, seeking a keener understanding of myself, an awareness of and growing disdain for my ego, a sense of connection with all manifestations of the universe, a desire for a simpler and saner life coupled with a grudging acceptance of the one I have. Daily I come upon answers to questions asked and unasked, but each one spawns another. It is as when we develop more powerful telescopes and microscopes and other investigative tools and techniques, and come to realize that the better we see, the more there is to see. I detect no lessening of this phenomenon in my own physical or spiritual life, nor in the endless quest for understanding that too small a contingent of mankind is engaged in. And so, recognizing the incredibly finite nature of my mortal existence, and hoping to derive as much from it and contribute as much to it as I can, I am settling comfortably onto the path which reveals itself to me each day, a path which is connected to all other paths, which connects me to all other beings, which meanders through and is dependent on the totality of the universe seen and unseen. And I am committing myself to being grateful every day for the gift of my human life, for self-awareness despite the fallacy of the self, and for a mind and spirit that allows me to put it all in a wonderful wondrous harmonious context and to marvel at its fantastic intricacies.
In closing, let me say that in sharing these meager thoughts I do not intend to belittle any reader's belief in some particular manifestation of God. I am comfortable in my own lack of understanding of the unknown and unknowable, and pray the same for all my friends. For some God is Allah, and for others the Judeo-Christian God as portrayed by Charlton Heston or James Caviezel; for some Vishnu or one of his pantheon of lesser Gods. Many consider earth to be God, or Mother Nature. My wife, who was raised Jewish, is certain that God is a Golden Retriever, and who am I to say otherwise? The point is that, for the addict or alcoholic, or really for anyone of curious mind and searching spirit, the image we conjure up to establish a relationship with our higher power is insignificant relative to our having that relationship. I love to paraphrase a quote I once read but can't now lay my hands on, attributed to Buddha, perhaps from his dialogue with Ananthapindika, in which the Buddha is reported to have said, "There is so much in life that we can know, and so much that we can never know - it is best to focus on that which we can know."
Following is a light rewrite of the traditional 12 steps that I generated in my earliest days, to help me get beyond the "God thing" which too many in need find a barrier to joining the program that has helped so many. If it helps you, feel free to adopt it as you own.
12 Steps to Sobriety for Non-Christians, Atheists and Agnostics
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to align our will and our lives with our Higher Power.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to our Higher Power, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Became entirely ready to allow total alignment with our Higher Power to eliminate all our defects of character.
7. Humbly aligned ourselves with our Higher Power to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and, when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through study and meditation to improve our alignment with our Higher Power, seeking only knowledge of our proper role in the Universe and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
A Suit of Armor...
So, I've known for a long time that I'm more than a little weird. I have shared that already, yes? Okay, good. I thought so...
Apparently my therapist and my wife's therapist are in cahoots, because they've both determined without collaborating that I live inside a very robust suit of armor. Heck, I guess even my older Sis' therapist figured that out a long time ago, although in reference to my father - the tree from which I didn't fall too far. I've never questioned him on how he came to be the way he is, and am not at all certain that particular analysis might be true. I always felt him to be warm and caring toward me. Can a suit of armor be semi-permeable? Hmmm...
Anyway, this is all something of a revelation for me that I'm having to deal with, and its not easy. Only a short while ago, if you had asked me whether I was open and warm and caring, I'd have said yes without hesitation. I really do have a deep sense of empathy, feel the pain of others, am not ashamed to shed a tear. Just shed one this morning, in fact, over a story a Facebook friend wrote for a national magazine.
I fret over the fate of mankind - constantly. I hurt for victims of war and pestilence and natural disaster. If I come across an accident, I am the first out of my car trying to render aid. If a co-worker suffers a loss, the destruction of a relationship, some personal pain or suffering - I'm the first to lend comfort. Hell, I've been known to cry when shipping a puppy off to a good home. So, I'm a warm caring softie, yes? Well, maybe not so much...
I first came to realize some disturbing facets of my character back around the time of my initial semi-breakdown in the spring of '08. I had run myself a bit too ragged in the early grass-roots stages of the Obama campaign - keeping too long hours juggling campaign obligations and work, drinking too much, eating too little and too poorly, carrying more of a burden than was perhaps prudent. Most critically, I had let my energy reserves run so low that I found myself huddled in almost a ball in my bedroom, crying inconsolably, feeling lost and confused and afraid, and I'm pretty sure I was most afraid of me. Energy reserves, I know now, are very important - just to get through life and maintain some sort of mental and spiritual balance, and even more so if you have the added task of generating and maintaining an impregnable suit of psychic armor. Of course, when you don't know you have this armor thing going on, its kind of hard to focus on maintaining it...
So, what was my epiphany? Which I didn't recognize as an epiphany at the time? That I love mankind as a whole, but have little patience for individual human beings. I apparently make exceptions for strangers in pain, but these exceptions are temporary and only for strangers. And, if you're someone I really should care about - someone who loves me and truly cares for me, in whose life I play a central role and who should be able to rely on me for support? Look somewhere else. I'm too busy emoting about the world to care about you. Besides, you've been around me enough you should have picked up my strength. You should be resilient and strong and self-reliant, not some simpering weakling looking to me for support. I've got more important concerns to address. Hmmm... Can you say, "Asshole?"
Mahatma Gandhi famously said, "Be the change you want to see." I've always described myself as a "forest person" rather than a "tree person," and I think that remains largely true. However, I'm slowly coming to realize that I'm not God. Quite a letdown, let me tell you. In the end, I'm just another tree in the forest, and a pretty fucked up one at that. I may stand taller than the trees around me, and I may have developed the ability to generate some really lush foliage, but at the end of the day, I'm just another tree, and one with some really severe structural issues that need to be addressed. I'm working on them...
And, while my first responsibility is to be as strong and healthy a tree as I can be, I need to be considerate of the trees around me, the saplings below me, the soil in which we all grow. And I need to remind myself constantly that the health of the forest, to the slight degree I can affect it, depends on me being the best steward I can be of the gifts I've been given, and to do everything that I can to ensure the health and growth of those trees nearest me. My sphere of influence is very finite, but strongest right where I stand and nearby. And how brilliant was it for me to think I could ensure the health of the forest while my own spot was rotten and withering?
So, my lesson of the week is to remember that I'm not God, which I have to tell you is a real letdown. Oh, I mentioned that already? Yes, but still...
And so I have to take off this armor, this ego, this cloying fear-filled sense of self that won't let others near me and won't let me share of myself. And I need to set it aside. I've known this, conceptually and intellectually, for some time, and have been working on it sporadically and rationally. And half-heartedly. But it takes quite a bit more than this. Actually, a lot more than this. It takes the full focus of the body, mind, and spirit. It is an intense emotional and spiritual exercise, but one I know I can do. If I can just figure out how to get these buckles undone on this damn heavy sweltering constraining suit of armor. Hey, not as easy as it sounds, smart ass. We trees don't have opposable thumbs, you know?
Apparently my therapist and my wife's therapist are in cahoots, because they've both determined without collaborating that I live inside a very robust suit of armor. Heck, I guess even my older Sis' therapist figured that out a long time ago, although in reference to my father - the tree from which I didn't fall too far. I've never questioned him on how he came to be the way he is, and am not at all certain that particular analysis might be true. I always felt him to be warm and caring toward me. Can a suit of armor be semi-permeable? Hmmm...
Anyway, this is all something of a revelation for me that I'm having to deal with, and its not easy. Only a short while ago, if you had asked me whether I was open and warm and caring, I'd have said yes without hesitation. I really do have a deep sense of empathy, feel the pain of others, am not ashamed to shed a tear. Just shed one this morning, in fact, over a story a Facebook friend wrote for a national magazine.
I fret over the fate of mankind - constantly. I hurt for victims of war and pestilence and natural disaster. If I come across an accident, I am the first out of my car trying to render aid. If a co-worker suffers a loss, the destruction of a relationship, some personal pain or suffering - I'm the first to lend comfort. Hell, I've been known to cry when shipping a puppy off to a good home. So, I'm a warm caring softie, yes? Well, maybe not so much...
I first came to realize some disturbing facets of my character back around the time of my initial semi-breakdown in the spring of '08. I had run myself a bit too ragged in the early grass-roots stages of the Obama campaign - keeping too long hours juggling campaign obligations and work, drinking too much, eating too little and too poorly, carrying more of a burden than was perhaps prudent. Most critically, I had let my energy reserves run so low that I found myself huddled in almost a ball in my bedroom, crying inconsolably, feeling lost and confused and afraid, and I'm pretty sure I was most afraid of me. Energy reserves, I know now, are very important - just to get through life and maintain some sort of mental and spiritual balance, and even more so if you have the added task of generating and maintaining an impregnable suit of psychic armor. Of course, when you don't know you have this armor thing going on, its kind of hard to focus on maintaining it...
So, what was my epiphany? Which I didn't recognize as an epiphany at the time? That I love mankind as a whole, but have little patience for individual human beings. I apparently make exceptions for strangers in pain, but these exceptions are temporary and only for strangers. And, if you're someone I really should care about - someone who loves me and truly cares for me, in whose life I play a central role and who should be able to rely on me for support? Look somewhere else. I'm too busy emoting about the world to care about you. Besides, you've been around me enough you should have picked up my strength. You should be resilient and strong and self-reliant, not some simpering weakling looking to me for support. I've got more important concerns to address. Hmmm... Can you say, "Asshole?"
Mahatma Gandhi famously said, "Be the change you want to see." I've always described myself as a "forest person" rather than a "tree person," and I think that remains largely true. However, I'm slowly coming to realize that I'm not God. Quite a letdown, let me tell you. In the end, I'm just another tree in the forest, and a pretty fucked up one at that. I may stand taller than the trees around me, and I may have developed the ability to generate some really lush foliage, but at the end of the day, I'm just another tree, and one with some really severe structural issues that need to be addressed. I'm working on them...
And, while my first responsibility is to be as strong and healthy a tree as I can be, I need to be considerate of the trees around me, the saplings below me, the soil in which we all grow. And I need to remind myself constantly that the health of the forest, to the slight degree I can affect it, depends on me being the best steward I can be of the gifts I've been given, and to do everything that I can to ensure the health and growth of those trees nearest me. My sphere of influence is very finite, but strongest right where I stand and nearby. And how brilliant was it for me to think I could ensure the health of the forest while my own spot was rotten and withering?
So, my lesson of the week is to remember that I'm not God, which I have to tell you is a real letdown. Oh, I mentioned that already? Yes, but still...
And so I have to take off this armor, this ego, this cloying fear-filled sense of self that won't let others near me and won't let me share of myself. And I need to set it aside. I've known this, conceptually and intellectually, for some time, and have been working on it sporadically and rationally. And half-heartedly. But it takes quite a bit more than this. Actually, a lot more than this. It takes the full focus of the body, mind, and spirit. It is an intense emotional and spiritual exercise, but one I know I can do. If I can just figure out how to get these buckles undone on this damn heavy sweltering constraining suit of armor. Hey, not as easy as it sounds, smart ass. We trees don't have opposable thumbs, you know?
Saturday, May 15, 2010
...and smell the roses
Having just this morning finished reading Stephen King's Under the Dome, I am reminded once again how much I have to be grateful for, and how rarely I truly am. To live a life that affords me the leisure hours to enjoy more than 1,000 pages of fiction, in a country and a world that allows King and armies of other artists to engage in creative activities that have nothing to do with providing food, shelter or clothing, but which bring endless enjoyment to so many? I mean, how lucky are we, and how lucky am I? Very, very, very...and never sufficiently appreciative.
Reading King's book I am reminded of how much we have, and how much can go wrong in life. Sure, it's science fiction, but he draws from many plausible aspects of reality. Like, how would our lives be if we really had a truly self-serving despotic government, insufficient air or water or food for survival, insufficient energy to run our businesses or cook our food or warm our homes, non-existent police protection, or worse - law enforcement bent not on protecting freedom and rights, but on subverting these. I and we are fortunate to live a modern and actually quite challenge-free existence, compared to what King depicts, but also compared to the reality that too much of humanity still faces on a daily basis. So...
So, how does life bless me? Let me count the ways:
1. I am alive as a human being. In a universe that is endless in every measure, I have the good fortune of being composed of just the right elements in just the right configuration under just the right environmental circumstance to be a human being. I am allowed to be self-aware, to be able to seek and understand the deeper meanings of my life, of God and the infinite, of history, of science and all the material and energy and non-material aspects of existence, and to manipulate much of this to my own end. All of humanity that has ever existed or will ever exist comprises less than a single grain of sand in the endless ocean of the cosmos, and yet I get to be part of this human experience, if only for a nanosecond in the infinite life of the universe. How cool is that? How much greater a blessing could one ask for?
2. I have a family and friends who love me, despite my myriad flaws and weaknesses and frailties and shortcomings; who recognize and respect me for who I am, forgive my transgressions, share my hopes and dreams, bolster me when I’m down and humble me when I’m a bit too up, and who allow me the to play the same role in their lives.
3. I have material wealth and comfort and freedom beyond the imaginings of even royalty less than a millennium past, have never suffered a single moment of true hunger or thirst, nor felt the relentless and inescapable exposure to the many ravages that nature can bring against us puny mortals.
4. I have my health, which now includes my sobriety. And as the old Yiddish Bubbes would say, “When you have your health, you have everything.”
Certainly, I have much more than these few things of which to be grateful, but I think these will suffice for now. I think it is entirely possible that one could obsess over enumerating all of the many things for which we could or should be grateful, to the point that we run out of time to actually enjoy the experience of being grateful. I should know, as I’ve done only the tiniest bit of the former and virtually none of the latter…
So, as I proceed through this day, and hopefully every day that follows, I am going to try and recognize and be thankful for the blessing of being an imperfect human – part of an imperfect species among a universe of imperfect species, part of an imperfect family among a planet of imperfect families, living in an imperfect state in an imperfect country on an imperfect planet floating through an imperfect solar system in a universe comprised entirely of imperfect solar systems and planets and species and countries and states and families and individuals. And all of these are part of an incredibly perfect universe. I will be grateful, because I’m pretty damn sure that, at the end of the day, life just doesn’t get any better than this!
Carpe diem!
Reading King's book I am reminded of how much we have, and how much can go wrong in life. Sure, it's science fiction, but he draws from many plausible aspects of reality. Like, how would our lives be if we really had a truly self-serving despotic government, insufficient air or water or food for survival, insufficient energy to run our businesses or cook our food or warm our homes, non-existent police protection, or worse - law enforcement bent not on protecting freedom and rights, but on subverting these. I and we are fortunate to live a modern and actually quite challenge-free existence, compared to what King depicts, but also compared to the reality that too much of humanity still faces on a daily basis. So...
So, how does life bless me? Let me count the ways:
1. I am alive as a human being. In a universe that is endless in every measure, I have the good fortune of being composed of just the right elements in just the right configuration under just the right environmental circumstance to be a human being. I am allowed to be self-aware, to be able to seek and understand the deeper meanings of my life, of God and the infinite, of history, of science and all the material and energy and non-material aspects of existence, and to manipulate much of this to my own end. All of humanity that has ever existed or will ever exist comprises less than a single grain of sand in the endless ocean of the cosmos, and yet I get to be part of this human experience, if only for a nanosecond in the infinite life of the universe. How cool is that? How much greater a blessing could one ask for?
2. I have a family and friends who love me, despite my myriad flaws and weaknesses and frailties and shortcomings; who recognize and respect me for who I am, forgive my transgressions, share my hopes and dreams, bolster me when I’m down and humble me when I’m a bit too up, and who allow me the to play the same role in their lives.
3. I have material wealth and comfort and freedom beyond the imaginings of even royalty less than a millennium past, have never suffered a single moment of true hunger or thirst, nor felt the relentless and inescapable exposure to the many ravages that nature can bring against us puny mortals.
4. I have my health, which now includes my sobriety. And as the old Yiddish Bubbes would say, “When you have your health, you have everything.”
Certainly, I have much more than these few things of which to be grateful, but I think these will suffice for now. I think it is entirely possible that one could obsess over enumerating all of the many things for which we could or should be grateful, to the point that we run out of time to actually enjoy the experience of being grateful. I should know, as I’ve done only the tiniest bit of the former and virtually none of the latter…
So, as I proceed through this day, and hopefully every day that follows, I am going to try and recognize and be thankful for the blessing of being an imperfect human – part of an imperfect species among a universe of imperfect species, part of an imperfect family among a planet of imperfect families, living in an imperfect state in an imperfect country on an imperfect planet floating through an imperfect solar system in a universe comprised entirely of imperfect solar systems and planets and species and countries and states and families and individuals. And all of these are part of an incredibly perfect universe. I will be grateful, because I’m pretty damn sure that, at the end of the day, life just doesn’t get any better than this!
Carpe diem!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Life Sux, and then...
So, I’m a month and a few days shy of completing my first year of sobriety. A few days ago we suffered the first death of someone I knew in my AA group, although I know there will be many more to come. Actually, we’ve had several die recently – most of them, thankfully, of old age or natural causes. At least as natural as the ravaged body of an alcoholic will allow. Not this one, though. Only forty years old, good looking and healthy in appearance, and with a young daughter he loved dearly. Too soon. Too young. Too sad…
I’m no stranger to death – have been intimate with it for most of my life - perhaps more so than many of similar age and background. Since my teen years I’ve buried many – strangers and relatives and old friends and new, from natural causes and murders and accidents and suicides and sickness. I really don’t fear death – haven’t for some time. But, as one of the women at tonight’s meeting said, a sober death can be beautiful. A drunk death cannot…
I didn’t know this young man well. Our group is large and it takes a good while to get established and come to know everyone, but being one of the younger group, he was more open. He generally had a smile on his face, was well liked by all, loved by many. I knew him by name, and we talked a bit on occasion. Although I’m a relative “newcomer,” I came into the program with a sponsor from day one, and never went to a single newcomers’ meeting until about a month ago. It happened to be on the day after this fellow had come back in from “out there.” He was angry at himself, and sad, and confused, and embarrassed. And obviously in deepest spiritual and mental agony…
Almost everyone in the program slips in the early going, and I know he had a few times. He wasn’t forgiving himself this night, though. Not even close, despite all our condolences, best wishes and support. He and I did the man-hug thing, and I told him I was pulling for him and knew he could make it. He tried to smile when we broke, but the eyes that looked back at me were those of a broken spirit. I didn’t know then and don’t know now that I had anything to offer him – he’d been around a lot longer than I. I wish now, though, that I’d tried…
The program allows for forgiveness – in fact demands it. Nobody sits in judgment of anyone else, because we all know that the prodigal returning to our room can so easily be a foreshadowing of ourselves, or the faded image of those who are now decades sober, but who had their own missteps before finally finding the true path. We are directed to “turn it over to God.” I’m not a big God guy, but know we have to get outside of ourselves if we are to survive. This disease is all about being inside ourselves, hating ourselves, hiding from ourselves, killing ourselves. It’s a very dangerous place to stay for any length of time. A drunk alone with himself is locked in the death grip of his own worst enemy, and it is a battle too many don’t survive. Most of the victims go to their grave never having admitted they were alcoholics or addicts. He knew exactly what he was, but couldn’t get away from his boogeyman…
Years ago, when considering a career choice, I’d thought about going into counseling. My mother advised me that I didn’t have the patience for it – wouldn’t tolerate the patient or client who refused to recognize the wisdom of my prescribed treatment and adhere to it. While she was wrong concerning so many things about me through the years, on this one I’m afraid she was right, at least then. My ego was totally unwhupped at that point, and remains pretty stubborn even today...
I’ve found myself wondering lately how much I’ve really changed, being only an infant to sobriety and introspection and spirituality and such. I know I’ve grown over the years – well remember being violently angry at my first friend who committed suicide before I was even out of my teens. Over time I’ve come to realize these are troubled souls. All of them. Some actually do perform the act out of malice, trying to hurt some in the worst possible way for actual or supposed transgressions. Most, however, are just desperately sad and lonely and hopeless, and dealing with things the best way they know how…
I’ve not yet learned the details of my fellow alcoholic’s death, and may not. They don’t really matter, to me at least. I am told he died drunk. For an alcoholic who knows he’s an alcoholic, that’s suicide, whether fast or slow. Some fights are just tougher than we are...
Rest in peace, young friend.
I’m no stranger to death – have been intimate with it for most of my life - perhaps more so than many of similar age and background. Since my teen years I’ve buried many – strangers and relatives and old friends and new, from natural causes and murders and accidents and suicides and sickness. I really don’t fear death – haven’t for some time. But, as one of the women at tonight’s meeting said, a sober death can be beautiful. A drunk death cannot…
I didn’t know this young man well. Our group is large and it takes a good while to get established and come to know everyone, but being one of the younger group, he was more open. He generally had a smile on his face, was well liked by all, loved by many. I knew him by name, and we talked a bit on occasion. Although I’m a relative “newcomer,” I came into the program with a sponsor from day one, and never went to a single newcomers’ meeting until about a month ago. It happened to be on the day after this fellow had come back in from “out there.” He was angry at himself, and sad, and confused, and embarrassed. And obviously in deepest spiritual and mental agony…
Almost everyone in the program slips in the early going, and I know he had a few times. He wasn’t forgiving himself this night, though. Not even close, despite all our condolences, best wishes and support. He and I did the man-hug thing, and I told him I was pulling for him and knew he could make it. He tried to smile when we broke, but the eyes that looked back at me were those of a broken spirit. I didn’t know then and don’t know now that I had anything to offer him – he’d been around a lot longer than I. I wish now, though, that I’d tried…
The program allows for forgiveness – in fact demands it. Nobody sits in judgment of anyone else, because we all know that the prodigal returning to our room can so easily be a foreshadowing of ourselves, or the faded image of those who are now decades sober, but who had their own missteps before finally finding the true path. We are directed to “turn it over to God.” I’m not a big God guy, but know we have to get outside of ourselves if we are to survive. This disease is all about being inside ourselves, hating ourselves, hiding from ourselves, killing ourselves. It’s a very dangerous place to stay for any length of time. A drunk alone with himself is locked in the death grip of his own worst enemy, and it is a battle too many don’t survive. Most of the victims go to their grave never having admitted they were alcoholics or addicts. He knew exactly what he was, but couldn’t get away from his boogeyman…
Years ago, when considering a career choice, I’d thought about going into counseling. My mother advised me that I didn’t have the patience for it – wouldn’t tolerate the patient or client who refused to recognize the wisdom of my prescribed treatment and adhere to it. While she was wrong concerning so many things about me through the years, on this one I’m afraid she was right, at least then. My ego was totally unwhupped at that point, and remains pretty stubborn even today...
I’ve found myself wondering lately how much I’ve really changed, being only an infant to sobriety and introspection and spirituality and such. I know I’ve grown over the years – well remember being violently angry at my first friend who committed suicide before I was even out of my teens. Over time I’ve come to realize these are troubled souls. All of them. Some actually do perform the act out of malice, trying to hurt some in the worst possible way for actual or supposed transgressions. Most, however, are just desperately sad and lonely and hopeless, and dealing with things the best way they know how…
I’ve not yet learned the details of my fellow alcoholic’s death, and may not. They don’t really matter, to me at least. I am told he died drunk. For an alcoholic who knows he’s an alcoholic, that’s suicide, whether fast or slow. Some fights are just tougher than we are...
Rest in peace, young friend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
