First, I'd like to apologize to all my friends who followed my musings over the last many months. I was embarrassed to realize that I haven't posted since January. Shame on me. We should never be too busy to spend a little time with our friends. Lo siento mucho...
Many of you know that I am now spending a lot of time down in Mexico. We are still doing a lot of preliminary work on getting our northern Baja project up and running, and my last couple of trips down have involved a lot of running around the peninsula, going places that I've never been, meeting new people (some friends, some not), and getting more immersed in this new culture.
Having just wended my way through the time change in the states, I had the opportunity to do it again just yesterday here in Mexico. When you throw in my sojourn a few weeks back through Arizona, land of the eternal mavericks, I guess it's understandable that I have no frigging idea what time it is. My body is telling me that if I'm going to keep screwing with it like this, I'm gonna have to let it set the clock and I'm the one that will need to adjust accordingly. So far, so good. Can't much fight mother nature, and she manifest herself most directly through our internal clocks, metabolism, etc. She's also telling me I need to work on my abs, but that's another story...
So, last night as we were driving up to Los Barriles for dinner, I had the unique experience of almost running down a wild burro on the road. Yes, seriously. He wandered right out in front of us, stopped, looked me square in the eye, as if saying, "Come on, gringo, I dare you." If he'd known how sketchy the brakes were in the truck I was driving he might not have been quite so ballsy. As it was, I really though I was goin to bump him before I brought it to a complete halt, but I never felt a thump and he grinned over his shoulder as he sauntered off into the brush. I told my partner that I'd seen dozens of signs all over these parts warning about cattle in the road, but hadn't seen a single head actually on any of the "major" thoroughfares I've driven, although they of course wander up and down the dirt roads in the periphery of the villages like they own the place. He couldn't explain why there were no "Watch out for wild burros" signs...
So one of my joys of being here is walking the beaches, collecting shells and rocks from the sea, and just communing with nature. Tonight, as every night, the stars are brilliant and breathtaking, and it would be easy to get lost staring up at them while listening to the waves slapping rhythmically onto the shoreline. I can't make that a habit, or I'm likely to forget that I'm here primarily for work. I fear serenity might be terribly addictive...
A few thoughts that have come to me in the past few days as I take my morning strolls on the beach? Well, sure...
One is that walking on the beach for a relative novice is at the outset a scientific experiment. Mind you, my walks tend to be several miles, and walking on wet sand soon makes you keenly aware of things you wouldn't ever have cause to consider walking down a hardpack trail or along city sidewalks. You need to learn which levels of sand will bear your weight, and which will give way and leave you mired ankle deep. You need to learn what footwear, if any, is appropriate. Beach sand, like unwelcome houseguests, arrives unexpectedly and doesn't leave readily. And it's highly abrasive. If surf socks (which are great for swimming and surfing)kept the sand out to begin with, they would be ideal. Unfortunately, they let it in more slowly but NEVER give it up. Flip flops, which the natives like to wear, don't trap sand. However, they do an incredible job of flipping sand up the back of your calves with each and every step, have the attachment piece between the big and second toe which I find terribly annoying, and don't allow for a very efficient stride. In the end, bare feet are likely the best, and if you're blessed with wide feet, as we would all likely have if we'd not started binding them in shoes centuries ago, there is no question. Because in the end, when you or I, being 70 percent water, walk along the shoreline of a sea or ocean from which our ancient ancestors first emerged, we are comingled as nearly as we can be with our planet, which is amazingly, seventy percent water. Crazy, huh?
On a related but slightly different note, it occurred to me this morning, for perhaps the first time in my life, while walking along one of the most pristine shorelines in North America, that I was walking along water which was joined with every other great body of water on the planet. I gazed out at an opportune moment to spot the giant back of a whale emerging from the depths - a whale which likely had swum many of the great oceans of the earth. I shared this tale and realization with my wife this evening - that if I were inclined I could just keep walking - south to Cabo, then northward up the coast to California (the American one), on to Oregon, Washington, and all the way up to Alaska, where later ancestors (than those which first crawled up on land) wandered across the land bridge to what is now called Russia. Thoughts such as these are really not hard to come by when you're wandering alone on a ogrgeous stretch of beach - not a sign of civilization anywhere (if you ignore the tire tracks in the sand...)
Did I mention that before I headed out three young Mexicans drove down to the beach, one emerging from the truck, wandering down to a rocky parch on the shoreline, only to emerge mere moment later carrying a very attractive lobster? Even crazier, huh?
And yesterday I had a visit with a couple of German tourist ladies lounging under a palapa in front of a seaside hotel near town. One, a retired Lufthansa flight attendant, said that she wasn't much taken with this piece of Mexico - that it was too hot and dry and there was no culture - nothing to do. I just shook my head as I walked away. Nothing to do? How crazy is that? She could always go for a walk on the beach. Barefoot...
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Metaphor
I'm always taken aback when literary critics describe a long-ago work as a metaphor for this or that, when there is no evidence that the author intended it as such. On the other hand, I appreciate the fact that readers have the right to extrapolate whatever metaphor they might like from any work, or any experience, for that matter. I am myself a great fan of metaphors, and love seeking them out in everyday life.
As many of you know, I recently completed my first 100-mile bike ride, a fairly grueling accomplishment for a 53 year old, and one of which I am pretty proud. As my childhood hero Clint Eastwood, aka Harry Callahan, said in the 1973 classic, Magnum Force, "A man needs to know his limitations." As one who believes knowledge can only come through direct experience, one must do to know. I now know that my cycling limitation, on a 70 degree day with light winds on a semi-hilly course with adequate nutrition and hydration and a reliable lightweight road bike, is something above 100 miles. No, that's not a metaphor, just an empirical deduction extrapolated from direct experience...
Nonetheless, when one spends more than six hours in the saddle riding solo through the countryside, it is almost inevitable that one will experience a metaphor or two in the process. Following, then, are a few that occurred to me during this ride...
In life, we will find ourselves facing stiff headwinds at times, and favorable tailwinds at others, likewise with ascents and descents of varying intensity. What I've come to realize in my year or so of semi-serious cycling, only reinforced during this first century ride, metaphorically speaking, is that these are to be recognized for what they are, neither blessing nor curse - simply conditions. There is no point in lamenting those which are unfavorable, nor extravagantly celebrating the favorable - both will change as you just keep pedaling. And we have little choice but to keep pedaling, unless we choose to quit. I don't...
At the same time and for the same reason, I find it counterproductive to ignore the blessings which come our way. I know that there are many who will coast when they find themselves on a downhill or with a favorable tailwind. My modus operandi, on the other hand, is to continue to push, even under the most favorable of conditions. Why? Because, as mentioned earlier, conditions will change. By taking maximum advantage of favorable conditions when they exist, we place ourselves in a superior position for the time in which less favorable conditions present themselves. I believe that in the six and a half hours or so during which I was actually riding, I probably coasted for no more than three minutes. With no evidence to the contrary, I choose to believe this was a winning strategy for me.
It didn't hurt that I knew there was a definite end to this trek, which somewhat mitigates it as a metaphor for life, which we know will have an end, but with not an inking of when or where it might come...
A second metaphor was the concrete realization that stopping on an uphill is a very bad idea, regardless of the circumstance. A friend came out to meet me around the 40 mile mark, and when he spotted me he thoughtfully drove on to the next downhill, not wanting to stop me in the middle of a climb. That is a true sign of friendship! I think too often even well-meaning friends, inspired by compassion, might encourage us to take a break while in the midst of confronting some life challenge. The reality is that, once the break is over, the challenge remains to be overcome, getting started once stopped can be increasingly difficult, and for many of us it can prove impossible. In cycling, we call this "bonking," the ultimate failure. Thanks, Michael, for not bonking me...
A third metaphor surrounds the advisability of planning and preparation. Uncharacteristically for me, I actually went out and drove the course the day before. A friend had thoughtfully mapped it out for me, and while I trusted his judgment, it was totally unfamiliar territory for me, and I wanted to know in advance what I would be facing. Sometimes we have this luxury in life, although less often than we would like. As a result of having the opportunity, I was even more inclined than I might have been to get a good night's rest, get myself well hydrated, get all the calories and carbohydrates on board that I could manage, and to dress appropriately and flexibly. There is no question I could have planned and prepared more, and will for the next, but having done what I did I was able to achieve my objective, and in so doing will be better prepared to tackle the next similar challenge.
To torture this metaphor a bit, I have launched myself over the last several years on a spiritual trek which, unlike my little cycling adventure, has no clear road map, too many condition variables to enumerate, and definitely no clear end point. One of the earliest books on Buddhism I read suggested strongly that it was best to follow the well trod path others had charted before us. This advice I've left largely unheeded. Why? Because I am not at all certain I want to go where others have. I want to know how and where they've gone, because I want to be able to recognize it when I cross their paths, knowing that if I am indeed lost I can simply turn in their direction and get to a safe place.
Like most seekers, I am hard pressed to say when exactly my search began, and know that it has never been one with a fixed destination. Unlike traveling in the physical world with a fixed destination and schedule in mind, the spiritual journey, for me at least, is one in which the journey is in fact the objective - seeing all we can see, learning all we can learn, experiencing all we can experience, and hopefully growing all the while. While I suppose one could apply the same free-spirited approach to a terrestrial cycling adventure, I suspect that at some point one would have a fair chance of winding up bleached bones in a riverbed next to a rusting steed missing its rider. Not a terrible way to go, I guess, as long as there was a nice dose of blunt force trauma to ease you on your way...
Yet another observation which I suppose is somewhat metaphorical, is that of the lone rider. I did throw out a weak invitation for company, but wasn't heartbroken when nobody took me up on it. As it was the most beautiful day in months - a rare gem of an opportunity at the end of January, even in Texas, I relished the chance to challenge myself without the added pressure of pushing or pulling or being pushed or pulled. Truth is, I'm more than a bit of a loner for a lot of reasons we shan't touch upon here. I recognize it as something of a character defect, and am working on it, but it is a reality which cycling seems to reinforce. Interestingly, I'd done a short 25-mile memorial ride for a fallen comrade just the night before - the first time in my life I'd ridden with an organized group working as something of a team. There were certain aspects of it I found quite enjoyable - the teamwork, the drafting, the camaraderie. At other points, though, I was chomping at the bit to hit my own pace, which would have likely been middle of this particular pack. Truth is, I took up cycling for fitness, tend to shut the brain down or at least let it free-wheel, and let my body set the pace. No, mindfulness is probably not an apt description of me at these junctures...
In my hodge-podge personal concoction of mostly eastern philosophy, non-duality and impermanence are probably the top two components. In brief explanation, this is to say that each of us is part of a larger whole, and a larger whole still, with no meaningful line of demarcation between the individual and the universe at large. At the same time, while there is no meaningful "self," the only thing over which we have even a modicum of control is the self. Riding alone through virtually uninhabited countryside, particularly in conditions where there are no extreme conditional challenges, is one of life's experiences, like drifting silently in a canoe down a lazy river or sailing on a pleasant day on a favorable tack or hiking peacefully through a quiet forest or along a high mountain trail, when every aspect of existence from the most central core of individual self-consciousness to the infinite beyond the observable meld into an indescribable unified whole, and you feel like you are part of everything and everything is part of you. And then you suddenly realize just how badly your ass actually hurts...
Truthfully, though, I can only see this experience being enhanced by company if the company is with an individual or group with which you are so in synchronization that its presence only adds and doesn't subtract or distract in the slightest. Something to aspire to, I suppose, but we shan't allow the perfect to be the enemy of the good...
Finally, this journey, like all journeys in life, began with the first downward press on the pedal, the first roll of the wheel. Could as easily have been the first step of a marathon or a cross-country hike. Roads are to be ridden, trails to be hiked, life to be lived. There is a time for contemplation and meditation, a vital past-time to which I need to devote more time and less effort. But to the degree that I intend to live life fully and completely, I will strive to remember to accept life on life's terms, to be grateful for blessings, to persevere against hardships. Perhaps some day I'll learn to be a better friend, companion, and team-mate. Until then, I'll do my best to not get in your way or run over you, and to appreciate your giving me a wide berth as you pass by me, pedaling and daydreaming on a back country road...
As a humorous aside, I noted that my random play IPod was playing a Maria Callas aria as I spun south out of Graham, Texas, a sleepy little burg northwest of Mineral Wells. It was perhaps a juxtaposition that needs to be experienced to be fully appreciated. A short while later I rolled up on a convocation between a flock of turkey vultures on one side of the fence and a herd of cows on the other. The birds flew in one direction while the cows bolted in the other as I approached at moderate speed in my admittedly garish cycling outfit. Out of some 2,000 titles ranging from show tunes and Christmas carols to acid rock, "Gone Country" by Alan Jackson was playing. Yes, I laughed out loud as I rode by...
As many of you know, I recently completed my first 100-mile bike ride, a fairly grueling accomplishment for a 53 year old, and one of which I am pretty proud. As my childhood hero Clint Eastwood, aka Harry Callahan, said in the 1973 classic, Magnum Force, "A man needs to know his limitations." As one who believes knowledge can only come through direct experience, one must do to know. I now know that my cycling limitation, on a 70 degree day with light winds on a semi-hilly course with adequate nutrition and hydration and a reliable lightweight road bike, is something above 100 miles. No, that's not a metaphor, just an empirical deduction extrapolated from direct experience...
Nonetheless, when one spends more than six hours in the saddle riding solo through the countryside, it is almost inevitable that one will experience a metaphor or two in the process. Following, then, are a few that occurred to me during this ride...
In life, we will find ourselves facing stiff headwinds at times, and favorable tailwinds at others, likewise with ascents and descents of varying intensity. What I've come to realize in my year or so of semi-serious cycling, only reinforced during this first century ride, metaphorically speaking, is that these are to be recognized for what they are, neither blessing nor curse - simply conditions. There is no point in lamenting those which are unfavorable, nor extravagantly celebrating the favorable - both will change as you just keep pedaling. And we have little choice but to keep pedaling, unless we choose to quit. I don't...
At the same time and for the same reason, I find it counterproductive to ignore the blessings which come our way. I know that there are many who will coast when they find themselves on a downhill or with a favorable tailwind. My modus operandi, on the other hand, is to continue to push, even under the most favorable of conditions. Why? Because, as mentioned earlier, conditions will change. By taking maximum advantage of favorable conditions when they exist, we place ourselves in a superior position for the time in which less favorable conditions present themselves. I believe that in the six and a half hours or so during which I was actually riding, I probably coasted for no more than three minutes. With no evidence to the contrary, I choose to believe this was a winning strategy for me.
It didn't hurt that I knew there was a definite end to this trek, which somewhat mitigates it as a metaphor for life, which we know will have an end, but with not an inking of when or where it might come...
A second metaphor was the concrete realization that stopping on an uphill is a very bad idea, regardless of the circumstance. A friend came out to meet me around the 40 mile mark, and when he spotted me he thoughtfully drove on to the next downhill, not wanting to stop me in the middle of a climb. That is a true sign of friendship! I think too often even well-meaning friends, inspired by compassion, might encourage us to take a break while in the midst of confronting some life challenge. The reality is that, once the break is over, the challenge remains to be overcome, getting started once stopped can be increasingly difficult, and for many of us it can prove impossible. In cycling, we call this "bonking," the ultimate failure. Thanks, Michael, for not bonking me...
A third metaphor surrounds the advisability of planning and preparation. Uncharacteristically for me, I actually went out and drove the course the day before. A friend had thoughtfully mapped it out for me, and while I trusted his judgment, it was totally unfamiliar territory for me, and I wanted to know in advance what I would be facing. Sometimes we have this luxury in life, although less often than we would like. As a result of having the opportunity, I was even more inclined than I might have been to get a good night's rest, get myself well hydrated, get all the calories and carbohydrates on board that I could manage, and to dress appropriately and flexibly. There is no question I could have planned and prepared more, and will for the next, but having done what I did I was able to achieve my objective, and in so doing will be better prepared to tackle the next similar challenge.
To torture this metaphor a bit, I have launched myself over the last several years on a spiritual trek which, unlike my little cycling adventure, has no clear road map, too many condition variables to enumerate, and definitely no clear end point. One of the earliest books on Buddhism I read suggested strongly that it was best to follow the well trod path others had charted before us. This advice I've left largely unheeded. Why? Because I am not at all certain I want to go where others have. I want to know how and where they've gone, because I want to be able to recognize it when I cross their paths, knowing that if I am indeed lost I can simply turn in their direction and get to a safe place.
Like most seekers, I am hard pressed to say when exactly my search began, and know that it has never been one with a fixed destination. Unlike traveling in the physical world with a fixed destination and schedule in mind, the spiritual journey, for me at least, is one in which the journey is in fact the objective - seeing all we can see, learning all we can learn, experiencing all we can experience, and hopefully growing all the while. While I suppose one could apply the same free-spirited approach to a terrestrial cycling adventure, I suspect that at some point one would have a fair chance of winding up bleached bones in a riverbed next to a rusting steed missing its rider. Not a terrible way to go, I guess, as long as there was a nice dose of blunt force trauma to ease you on your way...
Yet another observation which I suppose is somewhat metaphorical, is that of the lone rider. I did throw out a weak invitation for company, but wasn't heartbroken when nobody took me up on it. As it was the most beautiful day in months - a rare gem of an opportunity at the end of January, even in Texas, I relished the chance to challenge myself without the added pressure of pushing or pulling or being pushed or pulled. Truth is, I'm more than a bit of a loner for a lot of reasons we shan't touch upon here. I recognize it as something of a character defect, and am working on it, but it is a reality which cycling seems to reinforce. Interestingly, I'd done a short 25-mile memorial ride for a fallen comrade just the night before - the first time in my life I'd ridden with an organized group working as something of a team. There were certain aspects of it I found quite enjoyable - the teamwork, the drafting, the camaraderie. At other points, though, I was chomping at the bit to hit my own pace, which would have likely been middle of this particular pack. Truth is, I took up cycling for fitness, tend to shut the brain down or at least let it free-wheel, and let my body set the pace. No, mindfulness is probably not an apt description of me at these junctures...
In my hodge-podge personal concoction of mostly eastern philosophy, non-duality and impermanence are probably the top two components. In brief explanation, this is to say that each of us is part of a larger whole, and a larger whole still, with no meaningful line of demarcation between the individual and the universe at large. At the same time, while there is no meaningful "self," the only thing over which we have even a modicum of control is the self. Riding alone through virtually uninhabited countryside, particularly in conditions where there are no extreme conditional challenges, is one of life's experiences, like drifting silently in a canoe down a lazy river or sailing on a pleasant day on a favorable tack or hiking peacefully through a quiet forest or along a high mountain trail, when every aspect of existence from the most central core of individual self-consciousness to the infinite beyond the observable meld into an indescribable unified whole, and you feel like you are part of everything and everything is part of you. And then you suddenly realize just how badly your ass actually hurts...
Truthfully, though, I can only see this experience being enhanced by company if the company is with an individual or group with which you are so in synchronization that its presence only adds and doesn't subtract or distract in the slightest. Something to aspire to, I suppose, but we shan't allow the perfect to be the enemy of the good...
Finally, this journey, like all journeys in life, began with the first downward press on the pedal, the first roll of the wheel. Could as easily have been the first step of a marathon or a cross-country hike. Roads are to be ridden, trails to be hiked, life to be lived. There is a time for contemplation and meditation, a vital past-time to which I need to devote more time and less effort. But to the degree that I intend to live life fully and completely, I will strive to remember to accept life on life's terms, to be grateful for blessings, to persevere against hardships. Perhaps some day I'll learn to be a better friend, companion, and team-mate. Until then, I'll do my best to not get in your way or run over you, and to appreciate your giving me a wide berth as you pass by me, pedaling and daydreaming on a back country road...
As a humorous aside, I noted that my random play IPod was playing a Maria Callas aria as I spun south out of Graham, Texas, a sleepy little burg northwest of Mineral Wells. It was perhaps a juxtaposition that needs to be experienced to be fully appreciated. A short while later I rolled up on a convocation between a flock of turkey vultures on one side of the fence and a herd of cows on the other. The birds flew in one direction while the cows bolted in the other as I approached at moderate speed in my admittedly garish cycling outfit. Out of some 2,000 titles ranging from show tunes and Christmas carols to acid rock, "Gone Country" by Alan Jackson was playing. Yes, I laughed out loud as I rode by...
Saturday, January 15, 2011
New Year, New Thoughts...
Yes, I've been away for a while - apologies. Like everyone else, got busy with the holidays, working my way through the career transition, and in the last several weeks dealing with the health issues of aging parental units. Things are moving along tolerably on all fronts, and I've been appropriately chastised by a few friends for falling down on my blogging, so here goes...
I will start by stating that I am in a much different place this January than I was last. I just reread my first post of 2010, and realize just how far from that place I've come. I am still not meditating, which disturbs me a little, but am in pretty much all other ways much more settled in my mental and spiritual outlook. I am in mid-transition career wise, and not a transition I ever would have imagined a year ago. I am going to be developing a piece of real estate on the Sea of Cortez in Baja Mexico for an old client - traveling back and forth with some regularity, relearning Spanish and utilizing it on a regular basis for the first time in my life. At the same time, I will be able to keep a toe in the recruiting game, handling special projects for my better clients as time and circumstances allow. So, from a career standpoint, a whole lot of new and a little bit of old. Yes, I'm pretty excited.
On the health and fitness front I have taken up cycling with something of a vengeance, continue to work out regularly and eat moderately well. I am about to add swimming to my repertoire, as I don't get enough cardio work in my routine and want to be able to go for long ocean swims without endangering myself. I am probably in the best physical shape of my adult life, which speaks less of the great place I'm in now than about the sorry state I allowed myself to fall into during my earlier working years. I am probably too much like most Americans in this respect, am glad I figured it out early enough to do something about it, and encourage any of you who are feeling a bit weary and listless and out of sorts to strongly consider adding a major dose of exercise to your regimen. I can tell you first-hand that it will improve all aspects of your life. But remember, moderation in all things...
On the recovery front, I still attend AA on my regular schedule. I'll be honest in saying I've not made significant progress in the program this year. It's true, you know, that you only get out of something what you put into it, and I've not really worked it very hard this year. I've stayed sober, which is the main objective, made and strengthened some friendships within the two groups I meet with, and am more comfortable every day admitting to myself and to others that I'm an alcoholic, can't drink like "normal" people, and will never be able to. And I'm actually pretty happy about that. I spent a lot of my life drinking like normal people and on occasion like really abnormal people. Too much of those decades is a blur, and a lot of it wasn't pretty. Not really a big sacrifice to let it go. AA is not a program with an ending - its something you keep doing if you really have the problem and you really want to beat it. So, I'm not beating myself up over not having made any great strides on this front last year. I've got another thirty or forty years to work on it, and its not like there's a finish line...
On that note, one of the things I've noticed about myself this past year is that I've really developed a good deal patience, a notion that I now realize was sorely lacking previously. I've developed patience with myself, patience with others, even patience with our screwed up political system. This isn't the same as apathy, mind you. I still care about a lot of things, and care deeply. But I also have come to recognize that I can't save the world from itself, I can't change others, and I can't change the past or even the present. I can only change the future, and for the most part even then, only for myself, in a very limited way, with the decisions I make and actions I take. That's a pretty finite target on which to focus. I reckon that's what we mean when we say, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..." It's a simple, yet liberating, realization.
I suppose the biggest change has been in my marriage, which is in a far better place than it was a year ago. We went through some very dark times last spring and summer - when my wife and I both had to come to grips with what an asshole I'd been, along with other major challenges in our relationship. We were at that place too many marriages come to, and which as often as not wind up in divorce. Instead of becoming another grim statistic, we both sought individual counseling and later couples counseling, and developed a level of trust, respect, and open communication that never really existed in our almost three decades together. I don't know if its ever safe to say you're out of the woods, but I think it is safe to say that the forest umbrella is thinning significantly, we see more sunshine and blue sky than shadows these days, and we're holding hands on our journey. Its a good feeling, and one I don't want to lose again.
I'm sorry to disappoint you - know you were hoping upon my belated return for some political zealotry or religious controversy, hellfire and brimstone and whatnot. Not going to happen. I will reveal that I'm communicating with some friends on the inside to see if we can't arrange a rousing welcome party for Mr. Delay, but that's another story for another day...
I will start by stating that I am in a much different place this January than I was last. I just reread my first post of 2010, and realize just how far from that place I've come. I am still not meditating, which disturbs me a little, but am in pretty much all other ways much more settled in my mental and spiritual outlook. I am in mid-transition career wise, and not a transition I ever would have imagined a year ago. I am going to be developing a piece of real estate on the Sea of Cortez in Baja Mexico for an old client - traveling back and forth with some regularity, relearning Spanish and utilizing it on a regular basis for the first time in my life. At the same time, I will be able to keep a toe in the recruiting game, handling special projects for my better clients as time and circumstances allow. So, from a career standpoint, a whole lot of new and a little bit of old. Yes, I'm pretty excited.
On the health and fitness front I have taken up cycling with something of a vengeance, continue to work out regularly and eat moderately well. I am about to add swimming to my repertoire, as I don't get enough cardio work in my routine and want to be able to go for long ocean swims without endangering myself. I am probably in the best physical shape of my adult life, which speaks less of the great place I'm in now than about the sorry state I allowed myself to fall into during my earlier working years. I am probably too much like most Americans in this respect, am glad I figured it out early enough to do something about it, and encourage any of you who are feeling a bit weary and listless and out of sorts to strongly consider adding a major dose of exercise to your regimen. I can tell you first-hand that it will improve all aspects of your life. But remember, moderation in all things...
On the recovery front, I still attend AA on my regular schedule. I'll be honest in saying I've not made significant progress in the program this year. It's true, you know, that you only get out of something what you put into it, and I've not really worked it very hard this year. I've stayed sober, which is the main objective, made and strengthened some friendships within the two groups I meet with, and am more comfortable every day admitting to myself and to others that I'm an alcoholic, can't drink like "normal" people, and will never be able to. And I'm actually pretty happy about that. I spent a lot of my life drinking like normal people and on occasion like really abnormal people. Too much of those decades is a blur, and a lot of it wasn't pretty. Not really a big sacrifice to let it go. AA is not a program with an ending - its something you keep doing if you really have the problem and you really want to beat it. So, I'm not beating myself up over not having made any great strides on this front last year. I've got another thirty or forty years to work on it, and its not like there's a finish line...
On that note, one of the things I've noticed about myself this past year is that I've really developed a good deal patience, a notion that I now realize was sorely lacking previously. I've developed patience with myself, patience with others, even patience with our screwed up political system. This isn't the same as apathy, mind you. I still care about a lot of things, and care deeply. But I also have come to recognize that I can't save the world from itself, I can't change others, and I can't change the past or even the present. I can only change the future, and for the most part even then, only for myself, in a very limited way, with the decisions I make and actions I take. That's a pretty finite target on which to focus. I reckon that's what we mean when we say, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..." It's a simple, yet liberating, realization.
I suppose the biggest change has been in my marriage, which is in a far better place than it was a year ago. We went through some very dark times last spring and summer - when my wife and I both had to come to grips with what an asshole I'd been, along with other major challenges in our relationship. We were at that place too many marriages come to, and which as often as not wind up in divorce. Instead of becoming another grim statistic, we both sought individual counseling and later couples counseling, and developed a level of trust, respect, and open communication that never really existed in our almost three decades together. I don't know if its ever safe to say you're out of the woods, but I think it is safe to say that the forest umbrella is thinning significantly, we see more sunshine and blue sky than shadows these days, and we're holding hands on our journey. Its a good feeling, and one I don't want to lose again.
I'm sorry to disappoint you - know you were hoping upon my belated return for some political zealotry or religious controversy, hellfire and brimstone and whatnot. Not going to happen. I will reveal that I'm communicating with some friends on the inside to see if we can't arrange a rousing welcome party for Mr. Delay, but that's another story for another day...
Friday, November 12, 2010
A Little Bit Crazy...
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!
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!
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
