This morning I had an early meeting, too early. Afterwards I needed coffee so I decided to take a break and walk to Cup of Joe's. The doors were locked and a nasty notice was on the door from the Constables office. They might be closed for awhile, so I went for option two, I walked to the convenience store there on 4th and 3rd to grab an energy drink and as I walked, my mind wandered.
I recalled years back in the early 90's after moving here from Indiana that Mayor DeeDee decided to start an initiative to purge the Pioneer Park area of undesirables and make it a gateway community. One of her first initiatives beyond increasing law enforcement was rehabilitating properties. Much of the block between 3rd - 4th South and 2nd – 3rd West was leveled and the surrounding properties rehabilitated. A sizable section just south of Rose Park was also razed for new housing. The Gateway Mall was the culmination of that plan.
At the time though, most media attention went to the apartments for low income housing that were to be built on 3rd West between 3rd and 4th South. For many years construction would start only to be stopped again for financial woes. You would think that for being subsidized housing there should have been more urgency on the situation. For me though it came without much notice when they were eventually completed. I recall they were finished just in time for the 2002 Olympics, but really never paid attention to what became of them. On walking past the apartments I finally noticed that it was now a hotel, not apartments as initially planned, a fairly nice hotel too. On getting back to the office I looked it up online and yep, they are pretty much upper end business class. Some have a washer/dryer in the room, kind of like an apartment might.
As I walked past realizing this social failure with near slack jawed awe I noticed the homeless that still occupy the area, standing in the shadow of a broken promise; literally they were hanging out in the morning shade cast by the hotel. I stopped, we talked and I went on my way. Afterall, I was still on the company dime.
It is the lessons such as these for why I am grateful to be a part of this city, this area, this life. There are those moments when I feel my ego pushing its way out, sometimes manifesting in ugly ways: moments when I feel myself the center of the universe. For those that know; yesterday is a good example of that feeling.
Sometimes lessons in humility come hard. I am grateful that this morning's was instead a gentle bite. I am reminded that what I am is insignificant in the grand scheme and though gilded, my path is only a manifested offering. I still exist at the will of the Universe.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Hemmingway and the IT Guy
This morning I had a minor technical issue at work and had to submit a request to the “I.T. Guy”. If you’ve ever tried getting something from one of these people, you might have an idea what I was looking forward to. Just like the receptionist, you need to build repartee with them as they are people who can get things done for you in the workplace.
This I.T. Guy is new, so I decided to take a creative approach with the following request.
Enjoy:
Once yesterday, then again this morning my laptop has chosen to simply turn off on being disconnected from its external DC power supply without first doing a hibernation or shut-down sequence. For reasons of mobility both in and out of the office, this is not a welcome development.
On it first happening I was suddenly reminded of what the F12 key in MS Word was for, as the sudden data loss turned my normally Pulitzer winning documentation into something far less. Example the recent issue: “It was a dark and stormy night as the Assistant Manager anguished over his not being able to print his Daily Sales by Item and Daily Sales by Department reports. The semi-rhythmic pattern of rain washed across the buildings roof with a sound reminisce of waking to find his father asleep in the living room chair, long after whatever television station he had been watching went off the air. “That was his favorite chair. Wow, I haven’t talked to dad in weeks,” he thought to himself. With blinding fury and crashing thunder a streak of lightening pierced the sky. A light flickered inside, “I wonder if I instead used the TMX_FRANCHISE role?”
Compelling stuff isn’t it? Suddenly though that became, “If the user does not have a TMX_FRANCHISE role, the Daily Sales by Item and Daily Sales by Department reports do not print correctly from franchise remote sites.”
Just figured I’d make my mundane whinings more entertaining for you. The issue can be worked around until a solution is found.
Well it’s all in how you say things and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for one of the new Dell’s.
This I.T. Guy is new, so I decided to take a creative approach with the following request.
Enjoy:
Once yesterday, then again this morning my laptop has chosen to simply turn off on being disconnected from its external DC power supply without first doing a hibernation or shut-down sequence. For reasons of mobility both in and out of the office, this is not a welcome development.
On it first happening I was suddenly reminded of what the F12 key in MS Word was for, as the sudden data loss turned my normally Pulitzer winning documentation into something far less. Example the recent issue: “It was a dark and stormy night as the Assistant Manager anguished over his not being able to print his Daily Sales by Item and Daily Sales by Department reports. The semi-rhythmic pattern of rain washed across the buildings roof with a sound reminisce of waking to find his father asleep in the living room chair, long after whatever television station he had been watching went off the air. “That was his favorite chair. Wow, I haven’t talked to dad in weeks,” he thought to himself. With blinding fury and crashing thunder a streak of lightening pierced the sky. A light flickered inside, “I wonder if I instead used the TMX_FRANCHISE role?”
Compelling stuff isn’t it? Suddenly though that became, “If the user does not have a TMX_FRANCHISE role, the Daily Sales by Item and Daily Sales by Department reports do not print correctly from franchise remote sites.”
Just figured I’d make my mundane whinings more entertaining for you. The issue can be worked around until a solution is found.
Well it’s all in how you say things and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for one of the new Dell’s.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Playing with Persephone
NOTE: I should warn you that this is still an incomplete thought. I just felt like throwing it out here to see how it looks and will most likely get back to it within the next couple days.
...And all his Armour staind ere while so bright.
Forthwith on all sides to his aide was run
By Angels many and strong, who interpos'd
Defence, while others bore him on thir Shields
Back to his Chariot; where it stood retir'd
From off the files of warr; there they him laid
Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame
To find himself not matchless, and his pride
Humbl'd by such rebuke, so farr beneath
His confidence to equal God in power.
John Milton. Paradise Lost. Book VI, lines 333-342
OK children; quiz time. What just happened? Seriously.
Sometimes life occurs with such blinding speed and ferocity I only have time to follow the fight when it’s over. No matter though, I always win. The manner with which a person handles a situation, no matter how deep the cut shows you more about them than any conversation; actions do indeed speak louder than words. Unfortunately we are sometimes made to explain our actions to those who do not understand them.
“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
-Carl Jung
By fight I reference the quote from Richard Rose, “All of life is a struggle,” and the first of the Four Noble Truths, “All life is suffering.” Every moment of everyday can be viewed as such, even when you’re having fun. No person, nay… no thinking human can be so micromanaged that they will take from it what you believe. Any cognitive, rational being will digest each experience as their own and come away with their own lesson. Making the lesson from your presence a positive one is the only influence you may ever have, and thus the most meaningful.
The lesson here comes to us not from the Buddha, Christianity or new age philosophy. Our lesson today comes to us primarily from Lao Tzu and the Tao Teh Ching: the Way of the Peaceful Warrior. To paraphrase the concept of Shui, “Life is best lived when viewed as a river and is more easily lived when we don’t struggle against the current,” i.e. go with the flow. Action through inaction and all that, but it’s far from passive. In your being swept towards the horizon you can still move laterally, sometimes the river forks even; just don’t try to return upstream.
Just as in the first passage, when attempting to wrest control of yourself, shit happens. What happened in that passage was Satan made a run for the throne of the Judeo-Christian god. From the battlefield he looked around and saw it as unguarded. On his approach the archangel Michael came from up on his right and laid him open with his sword. It was a baited, ambush. If you don’t know what happened from that there, I suggest you ask one of the friendly strangers who visit your home unannounced. One thing they’ll tell you is that he didn’t give up. Unfortunately it would seem his is a battle based more of reactive deceit than proactive planning.
One cannot become so blinded by the goal that they fail to see the pebbles, boulders, even islands in the stream: those obstacles between here and there: the Liers in Wait. Sometimes they just can’t be avoided though. When armed with the facts and your eyes open you sometimes have to walk right through them on your way to honor each of the Gatekeepers. All the while being mindful of their rules and remembering that rules can be arbitrary as enforcement is always left to the judgment of another. “After she had crouched down and had her clothes removed, they were carried away. Then she (Inanna) made her sister Erec-ki-gala rise from her throne, and instead she sat on her throne. The Anna, the seven judges, rendered their decision against her. They looked at her - it was the look of death. They spoke to her - it was the speech of anger. They shouted at her - it was the shout of heavy guilt. The afflicted woman was turned into a corpse. And the corpse was hung on a hook,” (from The Decent of Inanna).
Unlike the earlier hero (or anti-hero depending on how you take your Jesus) Inanna had foresight. She knew whom she could count on and for what. She knew the gatekeepers would disarm her. She knew her sister would entrap her. She went before her peers and laid herself bare knowing no immediate good would come of it. Inanna planned ahead. Three days later, she was free.
Just as Inanna, Persephone was also able to escape. Persephone though couldn’t stay away and returns time and again; never being able to fully remove herself from that life, as it is the only place she is able to realize her power. In Greek Mythology Persephone’s name was the one that was not spoken. She was the Dread Queen of the Underworld; called by Homer, the “Iron Queen” and though a goddess, she is powerless when away from it. On the Earth she dances with nymphs and plays amongst the flowers; she is a symbol of love and fertility. In the Underworld; yeah… um… not so much. There, she is very much feared.
The power Persephone wields in the Underworld is without mercy; hers is not the attention you seek. When Orpheus traveled to the Underworld to plead for the return of his wife, Eurydice following her death from a snakes bite he made his argument through song using a golden lyre given to him by Apollo. Persephone’s demeanor cracked and she granted a pardon, with the caveat that Eurydice may leave so long as Orpheus does not cast his gaze upon her before they reach the surface. As they neared the entrance, for whatever reason Orpheus turned to look at her. It was too soon. His last vision of his wife was of her fading into oblivion.
That story as it appears in the Georgics by Virgil and similarly in Metamorphosis by Ovid is the only one showing anything resembling compassion from Persephone. In Plato’s Symposium, Phaedrus argues Orpheus failed because his love was not strong enough. On that cue, many have opened up on Orpheus with and understandable measure of Feminist and Jungian Criticism. Both agree his love was only physical and his not being able to wait to look at her is a reference to his objectification of her.
An interesting aside is what became of Orpheus; after losing Eurydice a second time, he foreswore love only to later be torn to pieces by the Maenads in a Bacchic orgy. The pieces were cast to the sea where they later washed ashore at the island of Lesbos and were enshrined by the inhabitants. His wife Eurydice in pre-Homeric Greece was known as Eurudike, meaning, “she whose justice extends widely.” Chances are you pronounced that name correctly.
From Gilgamesh up through the ages to Dante (though later works can be argued) classic literature is replete with prose of persons traveling through the Underworld in an effort to gain wisdom. That path is laid so one might find themselves; after all, a virtue untested is really nothing at all. How that Underworld manifests is different for everyone, but realize it has a purpose and those lessons are better learned when you flow with rather than fight against them.
“A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs - jolted by every pebble in the road.”
-Henry Ward Beecher
...And all his Armour staind ere while so bright.
Forthwith on all sides to his aide was run
By Angels many and strong, who interpos'd
Defence, while others bore him on thir Shields
Back to his Chariot; where it stood retir'd
From off the files of warr; there they him laid
Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame
To find himself not matchless, and his pride
Humbl'd by such rebuke, so farr beneath
His confidence to equal God in power.
John Milton. Paradise Lost. Book VI, lines 333-342
OK children; quiz time. What just happened? Seriously.
Sometimes life occurs with such blinding speed and ferocity I only have time to follow the fight when it’s over. No matter though, I always win. The manner with which a person handles a situation, no matter how deep the cut shows you more about them than any conversation; actions do indeed speak louder than words. Unfortunately we are sometimes made to explain our actions to those who do not understand them.
“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
-Carl Jung
By fight I reference the quote from Richard Rose, “All of life is a struggle,” and the first of the Four Noble Truths, “All life is suffering.” Every moment of everyday can be viewed as such, even when you’re having fun. No person, nay… no thinking human can be so micromanaged that they will take from it what you believe. Any cognitive, rational being will digest each experience as their own and come away with their own lesson. Making the lesson from your presence a positive one is the only influence you may ever have, and thus the most meaningful.
The lesson here comes to us not from the Buddha, Christianity or new age philosophy. Our lesson today comes to us primarily from Lao Tzu and the Tao Teh Ching: the Way of the Peaceful Warrior. To paraphrase the concept of Shui, “Life is best lived when viewed as a river and is more easily lived when we don’t struggle against the current,” i.e. go with the flow. Action through inaction and all that, but it’s far from passive. In your being swept towards the horizon you can still move laterally, sometimes the river forks even; just don’t try to return upstream.
Just as in the first passage, when attempting to wrest control of yourself, shit happens. What happened in that passage was Satan made a run for the throne of the Judeo-Christian god. From the battlefield he looked around and saw it as unguarded. On his approach the archangel Michael came from up on his right and laid him open with his sword. It was a baited, ambush. If you don’t know what happened from that there, I suggest you ask one of the friendly strangers who visit your home unannounced. One thing they’ll tell you is that he didn’t give up. Unfortunately it would seem his is a battle based more of reactive deceit than proactive planning.
One cannot become so blinded by the goal that they fail to see the pebbles, boulders, even islands in the stream: those obstacles between here and there: the Liers in Wait. Sometimes they just can’t be avoided though. When armed with the facts and your eyes open you sometimes have to walk right through them on your way to honor each of the Gatekeepers. All the while being mindful of their rules and remembering that rules can be arbitrary as enforcement is always left to the judgment of another. “After she had crouched down and had her clothes removed, they were carried away. Then she (Inanna) made her sister Erec-ki-gala rise from her throne, and instead she sat on her throne. The Anna, the seven judges, rendered their decision against her. They looked at her - it was the look of death. They spoke to her - it was the speech of anger. They shouted at her - it was the shout of heavy guilt. The afflicted woman was turned into a corpse. And the corpse was hung on a hook,” (from The Decent of Inanna).
Unlike the earlier hero (or anti-hero depending on how you take your Jesus) Inanna had foresight. She knew whom she could count on and for what. She knew the gatekeepers would disarm her. She knew her sister would entrap her. She went before her peers and laid herself bare knowing no immediate good would come of it. Inanna planned ahead. Three days later, she was free.
Just as Inanna, Persephone was also able to escape. Persephone though couldn’t stay away and returns time and again; never being able to fully remove herself from that life, as it is the only place she is able to realize her power. In Greek Mythology Persephone’s name was the one that was not spoken. She was the Dread Queen of the Underworld; called by Homer, the “Iron Queen” and though a goddess, she is powerless when away from it. On the Earth she dances with nymphs and plays amongst the flowers; she is a symbol of love and fertility. In the Underworld; yeah… um… not so much. There, she is very much feared.
The power Persephone wields in the Underworld is without mercy; hers is not the attention you seek. When Orpheus traveled to the Underworld to plead for the return of his wife, Eurydice following her death from a snakes bite he made his argument through song using a golden lyre given to him by Apollo. Persephone’s demeanor cracked and she granted a pardon, with the caveat that Eurydice may leave so long as Orpheus does not cast his gaze upon her before they reach the surface. As they neared the entrance, for whatever reason Orpheus turned to look at her. It was too soon. His last vision of his wife was of her fading into oblivion.
That story as it appears in the Georgics by Virgil and similarly in Metamorphosis by Ovid is the only one showing anything resembling compassion from Persephone. In Plato’s Symposium, Phaedrus argues Orpheus failed because his love was not strong enough. On that cue, many have opened up on Orpheus with and understandable measure of Feminist and Jungian Criticism. Both agree his love was only physical and his not being able to wait to look at her is a reference to his objectification of her.
An interesting aside is what became of Orpheus; after losing Eurydice a second time, he foreswore love only to later be torn to pieces by the Maenads in a Bacchic orgy. The pieces were cast to the sea where they later washed ashore at the island of Lesbos and were enshrined by the inhabitants. His wife Eurydice in pre-Homeric Greece was known as Eurudike, meaning, “she whose justice extends widely.” Chances are you pronounced that name correctly.
From Gilgamesh up through the ages to Dante (though later works can be argued) classic literature is replete with prose of persons traveling through the Underworld in an effort to gain wisdom. That path is laid so one might find themselves; after all, a virtue untested is really nothing at all. How that Underworld manifests is different for everyone, but realize it has a purpose and those lessons are better learned when you flow with rather than fight against them.
“A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs - jolted by every pebble in the road.”
-Henry Ward Beecher
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
If You Mess With the Bull. . . .
Two bulls are standing on top of a hill; a young bull and a much older bull. They're looking over a herd of cows, and the younger bull says, "Let's run down there and fuck ourselves one of them cows!"
From time to time I recall moments and experiences that at the time seemed fairly innocuous to only later realize how they predict my behavior now. I recall sometime early in the First Grade my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Grosgritz passed us a lesson on sharing or something that I took as one of learning when to pick my battles and not to be whipped into a fervor by another’s arbitrary whim.The teacher had us all stand in a circle, a class of some 20 kids and she stood in the middle holding a candybar high above her head. She paced the circle discussing loudly what she was going to do; her plan was to throw this candybar into the circle. Each would have a fair chance at getting it and whomever got it, got to keep it. She stepped out of what was now a ring, and tossed the confection in.
The whole class immediately descended, save myself and one other. I just recall standing there watching this scene unfold as twenty some-odd kids fought and struggled to wrest the candybar from one another. I don’t recall the other kids rationale, but after Mrs. Grosgritz broke the pile she asked us why we didn’t involve ourselves. “I just didn’t see the point in doing that over a candybar,” I said (or at least something like that). The best part was that the kid who ended up with the candybar had little more than something resembling a turd, smashed in a wrapper. He won, but for what?
Why this comes up is because I see this same behavior daily on a greater scale when commuting via the train between work and home.
The older bull replies, "How about we walk down there and fuck 'em all?"
Near everyday I watch this situation unfold. I get to the train station in time to see the train pull up as I pull my briefcase from my car. In the same parking lot I see a few heads pop up and about a half dozen men and women break in a dead run to catch the train. I open my briefcase, drop my keys in, grab my iPod and start walking to the platform. I usually get there in time to see the train pull away. I pull a smoke from my pocket, and I wait. During this time of the morning I’ll have the platform to myself. I don’t worry; the next train is in 10 minutes. That’s the train I’m there for anyway, I just like being early.Also near everyday I see the same situation, but in some ways better. I’ll catch the bus over to the station. The tension on those things can be brutal. It’s not sourced from some thug sitting in the back polishing his brass knuckles or counting the contents of his last victims wallet; it’s men and women in ties and dresses sitting there grumbling, pensively watching the road as if by shear power of will they can control the destinies of those around them.
As we arrive at the station, two trains stand idling; one leaves any moment; the other in about ten minutes. Of course once the doors to the bus open most all break into that dead run for the train that leaves first. I boarded that train a couple of times; you have relatively no choice in seating arrangement. If one is available, it’s generally on the sunny side of the car and the whole thing is full of persons that look at each other with a yardstick that measures who’s closer to god. I in turn go for the later train. I have my choice of seat and ride in fair comfort and I don’t really count those lost ten minutes as being lost.
I’ve seen coworkers get caught up in this; Glenn will stand there almost dancing at the bus stop with repeated looks down the street. He’ll near push his way onto the bus and is usually one of the first off when we get there. I’ve asked him in a backhanded manner what his motivation was, “What do you generally do after work?”
“Nothing really, just watch TV,” was his reply. Regardless of his elevated position at work, I see this behavior as aggressive, not dominant.
Another I’ve seen caught up in this game is an attractive, younger receptionist who works in another office named Amy. We’re generally on the same train in the morning and will often catch the same bus to our building. The train was late yesterday though and we missed our bus. Amy was intent on waiting the 20 minutes for the next, but I proposed an idea; any bus leaving the station stops in a relative proximity to the building where we both work. “Why not just take one of them and walk the distance?” I asked her. She looked at me with a raised brow and I added that she was already late; she really had nothing more to lose. She agreed and followed me.
We boarded a semi-random bus and were let off at Third South and Fourth West. “Oh we just take Third over to Second?” she asked.
“Even better,” I replied pointing towards Pierpont Avenue and set off walking. Amy quickly shed her heels and came up in tow. As we came up on Pierpont and Fourth I had her stop to see one of the many oases I have found in this city. A quick second later we were back on the move. I couldn’t help but watch how she walked: very focused with her eye to the horizon.
At one point I had to guide Amy off the beaten path to cut across the parking lot behind Java Joe’s. By now the backside of our building could be seen. Coming up on Third I was starting to figure a few things out about her. As we came to the sidewalk, just about mid-block, Amy turned and started heading for the cross walk. “Wait,” I said and directed her attention to see that with the exception of cars idling at either intersection, there was no traffic for about a hundred yards. “Sometimes jay-walking is the thing to do,” I said with a smile. She followed me across the road.
As we came upon the pay lot on the corner I mentioned to her that on the days I drive; this is where I have to park, a whole block away. Considering what I had observed and already knew about her, what she offered next was a bit of a surprise; “I’m supposed to, but I kinda cheat the system.” I inquired as to how and admittingly though resourceful her method was, I’m not finding it worth the risk of being ticketed and/or having my car impounded. I would like a better place to leave my car though. Indeed that could be a slippery slope.
The point here though isn’t one of sex, or even relationships. The point is, “What do you do with what you’ve been given and what do you give yourself?”
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Destroying the self, one position at a time.
I lay there on the floor, spent, gasping for air, covered in sweat and surrounded by some symbolic puddle of the accumulated filth of an active weekend. I watched her cross the room towards me, slowly circling my body. We locked eyes and with a slight curl to her lips she said, “You did well this morning.”
I smiled back and ever so softly she offered her “Namasté” to the class and walked out the door.
“Namasté,” I replied. A voice so small that it was only heard inside my head as the gentle chorus rose from around me. I felt something in that moment: something genuine both within, and outside of myself. It was recognition of divinity. Not just me and not just the instructor. Through the class she had been little more than a manifest voice in my head. Her movement at the end was all that gave her away. I had a sudden awareness of being. I was suddenly aware of the woman to my left and the one behind me: the man to my right and the one in front of me. The two other women near the west wall and the other to the east, plus the men behind both of them. I realized I had lost myself in the moment and through the session had only suffered brief flashes of reality.
There is only one other time in my life I can remember anything close to that. The reality was like a skilled opiate; a morphine high. Endorphins. The conscious was like ecstasy; feeling the world pass through me and seeing richness of colors I had never seen before. Adrenaline. Nothing could describe how I felt by the end of class, but it soon became obvious to me that others saw it too.
I smiled back and ever so softly she offered her “Namasté” to the class and walked out the door.
“Namasté,” I replied. A voice so small that it was only heard inside my head as the gentle chorus rose from around me. I felt something in that moment: something genuine both within, and outside of myself. It was recognition of divinity. Not just me and not just the instructor. Through the class she had been little more than a manifest voice in my head. Her movement at the end was all that gave her away. I had a sudden awareness of being. I was suddenly aware of the woman to my left and the one behind me: the man to my right and the one in front of me. The two other women near the west wall and the other to the east, plus the men behind both of them. I realized I had lost myself in the moment and through the session had only suffered brief flashes of reality.
There is only one other time in my life I can remember anything close to that. The reality was like a skilled opiate; a morphine high. Endorphins. The conscious was like ecstasy; feeling the world pass through me and seeing richness of colors I had never seen before. Adrenaline. Nothing could describe how I felt by the end of class, but it soon became obvious to me that others saw it too.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
We are all chained by fate....
This morning I woke up late; a friend needed a compassionate ear last night so I went. We met over coffee and I did what I do and stayed up late doing it. This morning though, I slept past both alarms. I figured last night that I was going to miss yoga, but nothing like this. I dressed and was out the door in no time. I arrived at the station just to watch the 7:15 train pull away. I could have gotten back in my car, drove to SLC and been to work easily within the hour.
I checked the schedule; the next train wasn’t for another half hour. It was late in the morning and I knew I had the place to myself for the next little while. Instead of racing to work I chose to appreciate what I had been given. The platform was empty. The morning was still. The air was quiet. The view of Freemont Island and Little Mountain, each bathed in soft morning desert pastels were beautiful. A subtle smell of alfalfa wafted the air and so much green speckled across the landscape provided strong contrast. The rising sun shed it’s light through broken clouds making an incredible show of light and shadow. And there it was, the day was handed to me.
Whereas many are unable to see the forest for the trees, my issue lately has been not seeing the trees for the forest. Not seeing and appreciating every little thought, deed or action that goes into manifesting the big picture. Although each of those elements holds beauty, none on its own could stage a scene so grand as what is provided when they work in concert.
We all have those moments when we realize a world outside of ourselves, but still we all mostly operate at the lower end of the The Great Chain of Being like the fish with rudimentary goals in mind; swim, feed, fuck. This is the evolution most people talk about, though few realize it. We are all capable of higher thinking, higher reasoning, a higher understanding of the world around us.
Humans are in an odd position on The Great Chain of Being. We can elevate or descend to exist anywhere on it. Beneath the fish are insects and the like then earth, but at our base level most humans are considered right there with the fish; swim, feed, fuck. If you examine those three actions you can see how much of our lives can be tied back to that. Every animals actions can be, it’s what we do beyond that which defines us.
Above the fish exist the domesticated flock animals: sheep, cows, etc. They almost entirely lack free will and allow man to exercise dominion over them.
Above them are the higher domesticated animals: horses, dogs, cats and the like. Domesticated still, yet servile in nature in that they perform specific functions in the service of man.
Higher still are the wild herd animals: deer, antelope, elk, bison. This group defies domestication, yet still has that issue of free will.
Then come the wild predators: cougars, bears, and wolves. Wolves have an exceptional characteristic of still being herd-like in their mentality; though in a way are much like man, but still the lower of the wild predators.
The latter group will consume any of the lower groups, including the only one higher, man. When this group or any lower attempts to reach beyond its place on the chain, it is still punished. Think what happens when any of these of it’s own volition attacks a human and you’ll know what I mean.
On the earthly level of The Great Chain of Being man sits on top, yet is able to figuratively exist by his manifest behavior with any of the lower, flesh made groups and as such people are often referred to as the animal they manifest: sheep, cow, dog, cougar, wolf. Deer (dear) could even be argued in there.
Beyond man of course are the purely ethereal beings: cherubim, seraphim, archangels then lastly, God. These groups are immutable on The Great Chain of Being and as such demonstrate that we are not meant to advance beyond that within our lifetimes, rather than strive to become one after death.
Man is the dichotomy between the spirit and the flesh. In life we can exist anywhere along The Great Chain of Being and it is the challenge of our condition to push past that and define ourselves on our own terms. Fundamentally that idea of elevating ourselves is the same across the board in all religions. We all have spiritual aspirations, but the flesh is made weak by the temptations of swim, feed, fuck and we fall right back down again.
On the surface it may not sound so hard but let’s polarize this with life. Think of swimming as travel; going from point A to B or just busying ourselves with any little distraction to keep from being made to be alone with ourselves.
Consider feeding as the endless consumerism that we all participate in. If you don’t believe me then go sit in a Starbuck’s and watch the artificial coffee snobs.
And fuck, well yes but that is only in part meant for sex. On the human level that is socializing in general, returning us to that need to not be left alone and surrounding ourselves with hollow relationships.
We all seem to be so deluded with this idea that was either need a large group, OR one or two, close intimate friends. In his book, ”The Art of Happiness,” the Dalai Lama discusses the concept of loneliness as one that perplexes him. He questions how one can truly find themselves lonely when we are all surrounded by friends, acquaintances or loved ones, any of which we are capable of cultivating a meaningful relationship with, and for those who speak under their breath, intimacy is not sex.
Another area this comes in at is the song, Stay Human by Spearhead (which some refer to as ”All the Freaky People,” by Michael Franti, same song, same group) in which he cites the same:
”…. isolation is a riddle
to be surrounded by a million other people
but feel alone like a tree in the desert…. ”
Yes the problem exists, but it’s not a physical issue so much as a spiritual one. Cherubim, seraphim, archangels, and God do not necessarily exist as icons to follow anymore. What does exist is you, and me: objects of the flesh who are real and tangible. We do have a responsibility to evolve, but that evolution isn’t towards some being of light; it’s evolving to being human and pulling yourself from the dirt to dust off the remains from yesterday.
We are built to do more than swim, feed and fuck; yet so many (sometimes myself included) seem perfectly content in that reality. I say don’t be! You’re more an animal when you do your best to blend in and join the herd and in reality the closest to being above man you’ll ever be on The Great Chain of Being is in those moments when you test yourself. We all know of the ugliness we’re capable of, but what about the beauty? You’ll never know until you try and testing that is where you will evolve.
I checked the schedule; the next train wasn’t for another half hour. It was late in the morning and I knew I had the place to myself for the next little while. Instead of racing to work I chose to appreciate what I had been given. The platform was empty. The morning was still. The air was quiet. The view of Freemont Island and Little Mountain, each bathed in soft morning desert pastels were beautiful. A subtle smell of alfalfa wafted the air and so much green speckled across the landscape provided strong contrast. The rising sun shed it’s light through broken clouds making an incredible show of light and shadow. And there it was, the day was handed to me.
Whereas many are unable to see the forest for the trees, my issue lately has been not seeing the trees for the forest. Not seeing and appreciating every little thought, deed or action that goes into manifesting the big picture. Although each of those elements holds beauty, none on its own could stage a scene so grand as what is provided when they work in concert.
We all have those moments when we realize a world outside of ourselves, but still we all mostly operate at the lower end of the The Great Chain of Being like the fish with rudimentary goals in mind; swim, feed, fuck. This is the evolution most people talk about, though few realize it. We are all capable of higher thinking, higher reasoning, a higher understanding of the world around us.
Humans are in an odd position on The Great Chain of Being. We can elevate or descend to exist anywhere on it. Beneath the fish are insects and the like then earth, but at our base level most humans are considered right there with the fish; swim, feed, fuck. If you examine those three actions you can see how much of our lives can be tied back to that. Every animals actions can be, it’s what we do beyond that which defines us.
Above the fish exist the domesticated flock animals: sheep, cows, etc. They almost entirely lack free will and allow man to exercise dominion over them.
Above them are the higher domesticated animals: horses, dogs, cats and the like. Domesticated still, yet servile in nature in that they perform specific functions in the service of man.
Higher still are the wild herd animals: deer, antelope, elk, bison. This group defies domestication, yet still has that issue of free will.
Then come the wild predators: cougars, bears, and wolves. Wolves have an exceptional characteristic of still being herd-like in their mentality; though in a way are much like man, but still the lower of the wild predators.
The latter group will consume any of the lower groups, including the only one higher, man. When this group or any lower attempts to reach beyond its place on the chain, it is still punished. Think what happens when any of these of it’s own volition attacks a human and you’ll know what I mean.
On the earthly level of The Great Chain of Being man sits on top, yet is able to figuratively exist by his manifest behavior with any of the lower, flesh made groups and as such people are often referred to as the animal they manifest: sheep, cow, dog, cougar, wolf. Deer (dear) could even be argued in there.
Beyond man of course are the purely ethereal beings: cherubim, seraphim, archangels then lastly, God. These groups are immutable on The Great Chain of Being and as such demonstrate that we are not meant to advance beyond that within our lifetimes, rather than strive to become one after death.
Man is the dichotomy between the spirit and the flesh. In life we can exist anywhere along The Great Chain of Being and it is the challenge of our condition to push past that and define ourselves on our own terms. Fundamentally that idea of elevating ourselves is the same across the board in all religions. We all have spiritual aspirations, but the flesh is made weak by the temptations of swim, feed, fuck and we fall right back down again.
On the surface it may not sound so hard but let’s polarize this with life. Think of swimming as travel; going from point A to B or just busying ourselves with any little distraction to keep from being made to be alone with ourselves.
Consider feeding as the endless consumerism that we all participate in. If you don’t believe me then go sit in a Starbuck’s and watch the artificial coffee snobs.
And fuck, well yes but that is only in part meant for sex. On the human level that is socializing in general, returning us to that need to not be left alone and surrounding ourselves with hollow relationships.
We all seem to be so deluded with this idea that was either need a large group, OR one or two, close intimate friends. In his book, ”The Art of Happiness,” the Dalai Lama discusses the concept of loneliness as one that perplexes him. He questions how one can truly find themselves lonely when we are all surrounded by friends, acquaintances or loved ones, any of which we are capable of cultivating a meaningful relationship with, and for those who speak under their breath, intimacy is not sex.
Another area this comes in at is the song, Stay Human by Spearhead (which some refer to as ”All the Freaky People,” by Michael Franti, same song, same group) in which he cites the same:
”…. isolation is a riddle
to be surrounded by a million other people
but feel alone like a tree in the desert…. ”
Yes the problem exists, but it’s not a physical issue so much as a spiritual one. Cherubim, seraphim, archangels, and God do not necessarily exist as icons to follow anymore. What does exist is you, and me: objects of the flesh who are real and tangible. We do have a responsibility to evolve, but that evolution isn’t towards some being of light; it’s evolving to being human and pulling yourself from the dirt to dust off the remains from yesterday.
We are built to do more than swim, feed and fuck; yet so many (sometimes myself included) seem perfectly content in that reality. I say don’t be! You’re more an animal when you do your best to blend in and join the herd and in reality the closest to being above man you’ll ever be on The Great Chain of Being is in those moments when you test yourself. We all know of the ugliness we’re capable of, but what about the beauty? You’ll never know until you try and testing that is where you will evolve.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
So this woman from Mississippi walks into a bar. . .
Check out this email I received today. Of course I had to respond. This is the stuff that gives Chris a big rubbery one.
Sent by Ginger;
I typed in my address 1st and then I tried just the road I live on and got more results when I just put in my road.
Forwarded from Marianne;
This is VERY interesting! See who your neighbors are. After you type in your address, it pinpoints all the people close to your home that have been convicted of ANY felonies. Then you just click on the red pins/balloons on the map and it gives you the offenders name, age, and felony offense. Better to know than not.
http://www.felonspy.com/search.html
My Response:
Ginger (and everyone else);
The link is a nice graphic, but you still get better results by checking the states online sex offender registry. The unfortunate sides of both is that offenders don't always register as they're required to and that otherwise harmless behavior could cause one to be placed on there (think the kids in Farmington who were sending pictures of their own genitals to each other before you reply). Honestly I believe a large reason such criminals exist is because they have failed to socialize and see people as persons rather than objects.
To sum it all up, the list isn't all that accurate and really only promotes a form of vigilante justice which in some cases may be entirely unwarranted. If the individual is so concerned about the guy next door, how about we educate our children on what behaviors to avoid rather than living in fear. This is just another example of how our own government promotes a fear based society rather than one of individual and national growth.
Go outside, get to know your neighbors. When you see them, smile and say hi. Don't let the phrase, "How ya doin?" be used as a passing salutation. Most say it without realizing they've made an invitation for you to talk; use it. In turn don't offer some disgenuine reply; you've been asked a question, answer it!
Now I should offer the disclaimer that no I am not on there nor do I affiliate anyone who is. The reason though such things piss me off is that one; we have a criminal justice system that we pay for. Two; it is not necessarily applied correctly (again the kids in Farmington). Three; lists are never good. Sure today it's sex offenders and tomorrow it's all felons, then the mentally ill, the handicapped, the illegal immigrants...does any of this get your attention? It's all been done before. Next it was the Jews. It's about time YOU speak up for ANY of the disfranchised, because if YOU don't, who will? We're all in this together, and those don't see that will be left behind.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
-Pastor Martin Niemöller
Anyway, so ends my rant.
Much Love,
Chris
Ginger forwarded my response to Marianne. Marianne replied via Ginger. Look what I started.
From Ginger;
Had to share her point of view.. See in MS your neighbors are miles from you.. Not in a standard neighborhood such as we are used to here in civilization! But she has her point too!
She's a great gal..
Forwarded from Marianne;
This is a felon finder an not everyone on it is a sex offender. I have kindappers and attempted murderers near me and that is info I like to know. Isn't it nice to be prepared for what lies in your surroundings instead of someone trying to harm you or your family and saying "Oh I wish I had known that person lived so close so I could have paid better attention to my surroundings".
igilantianism is not what I was thinking of in anyway when I forwarded this info, but the peace of mind we can all have knowing who surrounds us. And in no place on that site does it state being a tool for vigilatianism...I am all for people deserving a 2nd chance but think it best to be aware of my surroundings.
Disenfranchised? Are you kidding me? He is comparing the Jews to FELONS? Felons had a choice in what they did. The Jews were victims...
Feel free to pass this along...
I replied directly to Marianne this time and sent cc: to Ginger.
Marianne I appreciate your commentary. The right to express one's opinion is the cornerstone of society. The point that I make is not the direct relationship between Jews and felons. The relationship I define is that of once we make it acceptable to strip the rights of one group, it doesn't sting so much for the next. The "so long as it's not me," attitude is what I abhor. Those are identical stepping stones the Nazi's took in Germany; they started small with people society didn't like and slowly chipped away. Did you know that beyond the Jews, millions more regular Germans found the same fate, before them? The pattern was always the same too, you have to be registered and thus tracked. This is the same situation most gun owners fear with registering fire arms
The last line of that poem says, "When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out." reads the same as, "He who surrenders liberty in the name of security will have neither." (Benjamin Franklin). Once you strip liberty from one party, you unknowingly take it from yourself. In a world where our freedoms are chipped away at everyday, we have to fight for what what freedom still exists. Once it's gone it's not like they'll just give it back. A police state is not what the United States of America was built on. If I recall correctly it was "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." At least that's what it said on the Declaration of Independence.
One last thing regarding your comment on people saying if only they knew more about their surroundings; when my daughter was molested it was by a person who was on no such registry. Yeah the guy is one big piece of shit and life will deliver to him what he has earned. I get to hear about it every time he's released or gets sent back to prison and just as I respect you and your freedom to speak your mind regardless of actions or opinion, I will not impose myself or be grateful for another trampling on another's Forth Amendment Rights.
Yes we are guaranteed the life, liberty and the pursuits of happiness, but no one has the right to do so at the expense of another. Everyone has that right.
OK so I screwed up on my pronoun usage, but meh. . . points been made. I'm curious for what's next.
Ginger replies to her cc:
As prepared as we can make ourselves (with or without those sights) we can still fall victim to those awful things we try so hard to stay away from.
Are you a Republican? You seem to fit the part.. I can say I am more of a Libertarian... Not totally Republican .. Not totally Democratic and I really enjoy your input Chris!
Thanks for sharing..
Much admiration..
Ginger
My response to Ginger:
I'm neither Republican nor Democrat, Libertarian or anything else. I vote my conscience. So far I have argued against all sides. The Republicans want to keep their guns, but trash the Bill of Rights to make sure we're all sane and the state has the advantage. The Democrats seem to want to preserve the rights of the individual while leveling the playing field, which involves some losing their rights. Then there's the whole patronizing the Jesus fan base they do, I think it's all bullshit really. The only truth left to our system is what we started with.
Though perhaps similar to the core Libertarian ideals of Anarcho-Communism (seriously that's where that started) I would consider myself more a Prescriptive Constitutionalist as identified by philosopher Wil Waluchow, "the idea … that government can and should be legally limited in its powers, and that its authority depends on its observing these limitations. This idea brings with it a host of vexing questions of interest not only to legal scholars, but to anyone keen to explore the legal and philosophical foundations of the state."
I do enjoy Waluchow, but I mostly prefer John Locke and his Second Treatise of Government. Much early colonial and revolutionary though was based on this man's writing. The Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence are both direct manifestation of his book and both actually contain much reference to it.
Politics should be more about a philosophy rather than an unwavering value. Things done in the name of "values" in this country is part of what cripples us. Things we do in other countries under the same banner only aggravates the condition. Obviously from this whole conversation you can see that we don't share the same brands; it works the same everywhere. Capitalism is great, Communism is evil is what I was taught growing up and yet our system has been left in the dust by a communist country who owns more of the United States that most care to admit.
As of 18 Jun 2008 at 09:14:18 PM GMT the U.S. national debt is $9,398,060,704,952.96. Almost a third of that is held by China. Our system has put us in a position that another country could literally ruin us without firing a shot. All they have to do is call on that debt. Seriously it is the equivalent to being delinquent on your power bill. They can turn off the lights at anytime.
All this politicking, all this learning to hate thy neighbor. . . none of it helps us and only serves as a smoke screen to our greater domestic problems. This Byzantine system we live in only serves to limit and segregate society. Political affiliations are a fine example; we are encouraged to cluster and foster an us versus them attitude. If we can put a finger on it, if we can label it, we can control it. The bullride is over; the west was won. We've tamed that beast and yet we're mostly still living in these false realities. It's time to evolve and elevate ourselves above this linear thinking and look outwards at what we as individuals can truly do to change. . . shit, anything. No politician is going to do that for us. No regulatory agency is going to make life better. No law is going to make you safer. It's a group of individuals working to clean up their own little corner of the world that incites change.
Sent by Ginger;
I typed in my address 1st and then I tried just the road I live on and got more results when I just put in my road.
Forwarded from Marianne;
This is VERY interesting! See who your neighbors are. After you type in your address, it pinpoints all the people close to your home that have been convicted of ANY felonies. Then you just click on the red pins/balloons on the map and it gives you the offenders name, age, and felony offense. Better to know than not.
http://www.felonspy.com/search.html
My Response:
Ginger (and everyone else);
The link is a nice graphic, but you still get better results by checking the states online sex offender registry. The unfortunate sides of both is that offenders don't always register as they're required to and that otherwise harmless behavior could cause one to be placed on there (think the kids in Farmington who were sending pictures of their own genitals to each other before you reply). Honestly I believe a large reason such criminals exist is because they have failed to socialize and see people as persons rather than objects.
To sum it all up, the list isn't all that accurate and really only promotes a form of vigilante justice which in some cases may be entirely unwarranted. If the individual is so concerned about the guy next door, how about we educate our children on what behaviors to avoid rather than living in fear. This is just another example of how our own government promotes a fear based society rather than one of individual and national growth.
Go outside, get to know your neighbors. When you see them, smile and say hi. Don't let the phrase, "How ya doin?" be used as a passing salutation. Most say it without realizing they've made an invitation for you to talk; use it. In turn don't offer some disgenuine reply; you've been asked a question, answer it!
Now I should offer the disclaimer that no I am not on there nor do I affiliate anyone who is. The reason though such things piss me off is that one; we have a criminal justice system that we pay for. Two; it is not necessarily applied correctly (again the kids in Farmington). Three; lists are never good. Sure today it's sex offenders and tomorrow it's all felons, then the mentally ill, the handicapped, the illegal immigrants...does any of this get your attention? It's all been done before. Next it was the Jews. It's about time YOU speak up for ANY of the disfranchised, because if YOU don't, who will? We're all in this together, and those don't see that will be left behind.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
-Pastor Martin Niemöller
Anyway, so ends my rant.
Much Love,
Chris
Ginger forwarded my response to Marianne. Marianne replied via Ginger. Look what I started.
From Ginger;
Had to share her point of view.. See in MS your neighbors are miles from you.. Not in a standard neighborhood such as we are used to here in civilization! But she has her point too!
She's a great gal..
Forwarded from Marianne;
This is a felon finder an not everyone on it is a sex offender. I have kindappers and attempted murderers near me and that is info I like to know. Isn't it nice to be prepared for what lies in your surroundings instead of someone trying to harm you or your family and saying "Oh I wish I had known that person lived so close so I could have paid better attention to my surroundings".
igilantianism is not what I was thinking of in anyway when I forwarded this info, but the peace of mind we can all have knowing who surrounds us. And in no place on that site does it state being a tool for vigilatianism...I am all for people deserving a 2nd chance but think it best to be aware of my surroundings.
Disenfranchised? Are you kidding me? He is comparing the Jews to FELONS? Felons had a choice in what they did. The Jews were victims...
Feel free to pass this along...
I replied directly to Marianne this time and sent cc: to Ginger.
Marianne I appreciate your commentary. The right to express one's opinion is the cornerstone of society. The point that I make is not the direct relationship between Jews and felons. The relationship I define is that of once we make it acceptable to strip the rights of one group, it doesn't sting so much for the next. The "so long as it's not me," attitude is what I abhor. Those are identical stepping stones the Nazi's took in Germany; they started small with people society didn't like and slowly chipped away. Did you know that beyond the Jews, millions more regular Germans found the same fate, before them? The pattern was always the same too, you have to be registered and thus tracked. This is the same situation most gun owners fear with registering fire arms
The last line of that poem says, "When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out." reads the same as, "He who surrenders liberty in the name of security will have neither." (Benjamin Franklin). Once you strip liberty from one party, you unknowingly take it from yourself. In a world where our freedoms are chipped away at everyday, we have to fight for what what freedom still exists. Once it's gone it's not like they'll just give it back. A police state is not what the United States of America was built on. If I recall correctly it was "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." At least that's what it said on the Declaration of Independence.
One last thing regarding your comment on people saying if only they knew more about their surroundings; when my daughter was molested it was by a person who was on no such registry. Yeah the guy is one big piece of shit and life will deliver to him what he has earned. I get to hear about it every time he's released or gets sent back to prison and just as I respect you and your freedom to speak your mind regardless of actions or opinion, I will not impose myself or be grateful for another trampling on another's Forth Amendment Rights.
Yes we are guaranteed the life, liberty and the pursuits of happiness, but no one has the right to do so at the expense of another. Everyone has that right.
OK so I screwed up on my pronoun usage, but meh. . . points been made. I'm curious for what's next.
Ginger replies to her cc:
As prepared as we can make ourselves (with or without those sights) we can still fall victim to those awful things we try so hard to stay away from.
Are you a Republican? You seem to fit the part.. I can say I am more of a Libertarian... Not totally Republican .. Not totally Democratic and I really enjoy your input Chris!
Thanks for sharing..
Much admiration..
Ginger
My response to Ginger:
I'm neither Republican nor Democrat, Libertarian or anything else. I vote my conscience. So far I have argued against all sides. The Republicans want to keep their guns, but trash the Bill of Rights to make sure we're all sane and the state has the advantage. The Democrats seem to want to preserve the rights of the individual while leveling the playing field, which involves some losing their rights. Then there's the whole patronizing the Jesus fan base they do, I think it's all bullshit really. The only truth left to our system is what we started with.
Though perhaps similar to the core Libertarian ideals of Anarcho-Communism (seriously that's where that started) I would consider myself more a Prescriptive Constitutionalist as identified by philosopher Wil Waluchow, "the idea … that government can and should be legally limited in its powers, and that its authority depends on its observing these limitations. This idea brings with it a host of vexing questions of interest not only to legal scholars, but to anyone keen to explore the legal and philosophical foundations of the state."
I do enjoy Waluchow, but I mostly prefer John Locke and his Second Treatise of Government. Much early colonial and revolutionary though was based on this man's writing. The Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence are both direct manifestation of his book and both actually contain much reference to it.
Politics should be more about a philosophy rather than an unwavering value. Things done in the name of "values" in this country is part of what cripples us. Things we do in other countries under the same banner only aggravates the condition. Obviously from this whole conversation you can see that we don't share the same brands; it works the same everywhere. Capitalism is great, Communism is evil is what I was taught growing up and yet our system has been left in the dust by a communist country who owns more of the United States that most care to admit.
As of 18 Jun 2008 at 09:14:18 PM GMT the U.S. national debt is $9,398,060,704,952.96. Almost a third of that is held by China. Our system has put us in a position that another country could literally ruin us without firing a shot. All they have to do is call on that debt. Seriously it is the equivalent to being delinquent on your power bill. They can turn off the lights at anytime.
All this politicking, all this learning to hate thy neighbor. . . none of it helps us and only serves as a smoke screen to our greater domestic problems. This Byzantine system we live in only serves to limit and segregate society. Political affiliations are a fine example; we are encouraged to cluster and foster an us versus them attitude. If we can put a finger on it, if we can label it, we can control it. The bullride is over; the west was won. We've tamed that beast and yet we're mostly still living in these false realities. It's time to evolve and elevate ourselves above this linear thinking and look outwards at what we as individuals can truly do to change. . . shit, anything. No politician is going to do that for us. No regulatory agency is going to make life better. No law is going to make you safer. It's a group of individuals working to clean up their own little corner of the world that incites change.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
And little man, little Lola wants you. . . .
“There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
~Anais Nin
Sometimes growth is painful, actually most of the time it is. It’s never easy, it requires effort, but the reward is oh so incredible and we are the better for it. . . usually. It all depends on which way the person grows. Sometimes people end up so much the worse with the bonus of taking people down with them. Example Lola Montez; born Eliza Oliver in 1818 Limerick, Ireland to an unwed, 15 year-old mother Eliza quickly became recognized for her “uncultivated” behavior.
Her mother later married her biological father, Ensign Edward Gilbert of the 25th Regiment and as a family they left for India. Shortly after arrival Gilbert died, Eliza’s mother went on to marry another officer who had little taste for Eliza’s untamed ways and sent her away to live back in England. It’s not documented whether Eliza ever saw her mother again.
Shifting around from boarding school to boarding school, Eliza eloped at 16 with Lieutenant Thomas James and the couple returned to India. Five years later they separated and Eliza began working as a professional dancer under her new name, Lola Montez.
In June 1843 Eliza returned to London as “Lola Montez, the Spanish dancer.” Though her initial performance was successful, she was recognized as the wife of James and left the island to avoid further scandal. This is where things get interesting. In 1954 Sarah Vaughan even made famous a song about Lola, “Whatever Lola Wants….” (BTW: there’s a sweet remix of this song on Buddha Bar VI).
Landing on the continent like a hurricane Lola quickly made herself known through affairs and affiliations with 19th Century figures like Franz Listz, George Sand and Alexandre Dumas before finding herself in the company of newspaper owner and drama critic, Alexandre Dujarier. Dujarier’s newspaper also happened to have the largest circulation in all of Paris and Lola had a need. On finding a little about the man she arranged a small accidental meeting. Dujarier was out horse riding and Lola staged an accident so they could meet.
Known notoriously for her outrageous style and outspoken attitude, Lola’s career as a dancer suffered greatly. Dujarier was the man she felt could turn it around, and for a time he did by writing glowing reviews of her in his paper. This though was an obvious failure to the French and Dujarier began losing credibility, friends, and support over his relationship with Lola. He told friends he was to marry Lola in the following spring. Lola never told him that she was still married. In 1845 at a party Dujarier insulted a fellow critic, Jean-Baptiste Rosemond de Beaupin de Beauvallon presumably over a comment on Lola and died in a duel with the man the following morning. Incidentally de Beauvallon was known for his skill with a pistol. Dujarier never had a chance. There was nothing left and Lola left Paris soon after.
Eventually finding her way into Munich posing as Spanish nobility Lola desired to be in the court of King Ludwig. Just as she had with Dujarier, Lola examined the situation until finding her way in. Count Otto Von Rechberg was Aide de Campe to Ludwig. And also just as she had done with Dujarier she arranged a meeting with Rechberg.
As Rechberg dined in an out door café one morning, Lola rode by on her horse. Suddenly the horse started and threw Lola to the ground, near the feet of Rechberg. As he helped her up, Rechberg became enchanted and eventually promised her a meeting with the King.
Lola arrived at the castle on the appointed day and as she waited she heard King Ludwig berating Rechberg as he had no time to meet with a “favor-seeking stranger.” Taking action Lola burst into the room; somewhere in the shuffle having the bodice of her dress torn there Lola stood, before the King with her breasts bore to the court. Lola had her stage to perform on within three days and Lola soon became Mistress to the King. Her stage performances were poorly reviewed, yet they continued.
Until this time Bavaria had been a peaceful, prosperous kingdom and King Ludwig was loved. He had been known to be fair and for his level headedness. When he met Lola though he began showering her with lavish gifts and writing her poetry. Like Dujarier, Ludwig started falling from favor and began losing credibility, friends, and support over his relationship with Lola.
Lola became a power behind the throne in advising Ludwig on matters of state. Other members of the court who spoke against Lola were dismissed. Lola’s power became greater than her and it went to her head. One day while walking her dog, it attacked a passer-by. Rather than bring the dog to heel, Lola began whipping the man with the dog’s leash. On another occasion as Lola rode her horse down a narrow path she came upon an elderly man riding in the same direction, but slower. Lola being unable to pass began slashing at the man with her riding crop. Soon it became public that Ludwig was working to make Lola a naturalized citizen, and a Countess.
This was too much for the citizens of Munich. The once peaceful peoples were now feared on the verge of civil war, rioting in the streets chanting, “Raus mit Lola!”? By early 1848 Lola was exiled from Bavaria. Five weeks later Kind Ludwig was made to abdicate his throne. The once loved king was no more. In exile, Lola received word of Ludwig’s loss of power and there she waited for Ludwig to come be with her. Ludwig never came and Lola left for England.
In England Lola found herself in the company of a young English army officer, George Trafford Heald. They fell in love and married in 1849. Heald came from a prominent English family and had a promising future. Unfortunately Lola remained married to James and for this was arrested soon after. Free on bail, Lola moved to Spain with Heald in tow to escape prosecution. There they fought terribly and within a few years Heald returned on his own to England to find himself entirely disinherited from his family, the army, and ostracized by society. Heald soon moved by himself to Portugal where within a few short months, he was dead.
Lola, ever looking to the horizon chose the United States as a destination. Germany, France, England. . . she was no longer welcome. In 1851 she left to make her start and for the next two years worked as a dancer in the Eastern United States before moving to San Francisco in 1853 where she met and married another newspaper owner, Patrick Hull. Hull’s friend and partner Louise Lull advised him against it. “That woman is ruining you. You are making a show of yourself, that woman has bewitched you,” Lull would say. Hull would never listen.
The marriage didn’t last more than a few months and yet Lola got the house where she stayed until news of another gold rush in Australia made it to the Americas. During her time in San Francisco Lola entertained the gold miners. Sydney seemed like the next logical step to her where she had seen men make and spend their wealth right before her eyes.
Lola didn’t last long in Australia. It was less than a few months before theaters started to sometimes enjoy and others suffer the benefit of her raucous performances. Again just as in France and Bavaria, Lola roused the ire of the press for such stunts as when pursued onto a ship by a sheriffs deputy holding a debtors warrant, she stripped naked and dared the deputy to seize her. He left without arresting her.
In 1856 the editor of The Ballarat Times, Henry Seekamp wrote an article critical of Lola as being immoral. Rumors had spread of her displaying her genetalia to the audience. The argument came to a head outside the United States Hotel in Ballarat where the two squared off with horsewhips. Lola won. They charged each other with assault and libel, the cases were dismissed with sympathy going to Lola. Lola then filed a warrant against Seekamp, but failed to appear on the appointed court date. Lola had been badly beaten by a wife of one of the miners she entertained. She spent a month recovering.
In 1857 Lola first returned to Britain, then the United States to deliver a series of lecture on moral virtues written by the Reverend Charles Chauncy Burr. Lola had suddenly changed and appeared genuinely repentant.
Lola began wasting away and soon died of Syphilis on January 16, 1861.
It all makes me think of the following from Chapter IV of the book, “Beyond Good and Evil” by Freidrich Nietzsche:
Apophthegms and Interludes
89. Dreadful experiences raise the question whether he who experiences them is not something dreadful also.
~Anais Nin
Sometimes growth is painful, actually most of the time it is. It’s never easy, it requires effort, but the reward is oh so incredible and we are the better for it. . . usually. It all depends on which way the person grows. Sometimes people end up so much the worse with the bonus of taking people down with them. Example Lola Montez; born Eliza Oliver in 1818 Limerick, Ireland to an unwed, 15 year-old mother Eliza quickly became recognized for her “uncultivated” behavior.
Her mother later married her biological father, Ensign Edward Gilbert of the 25th Regiment and as a family they left for India. Shortly after arrival Gilbert died, Eliza’s mother went on to marry another officer who had little taste for Eliza’s untamed ways and sent her away to live back in England. It’s not documented whether Eliza ever saw her mother again.
Shifting around from boarding school to boarding school, Eliza eloped at 16 with Lieutenant Thomas James and the couple returned to India. Five years later they separated and Eliza began working as a professional dancer under her new name, Lola Montez.
In June 1843 Eliza returned to London as “Lola Montez, the Spanish dancer.” Though her initial performance was successful, she was recognized as the wife of James and left the island to avoid further scandal. This is where things get interesting. In 1954 Sarah Vaughan even made famous a song about Lola, “Whatever Lola Wants….” (BTW: there’s a sweet remix of this song on Buddha Bar VI).
Landing on the continent like a hurricane Lola quickly made herself known through affairs and affiliations with 19th Century figures like Franz Listz, George Sand and Alexandre Dumas before finding herself in the company of newspaper owner and drama critic, Alexandre Dujarier. Dujarier’s newspaper also happened to have the largest circulation in all of Paris and Lola had a need. On finding a little about the man she arranged a small accidental meeting. Dujarier was out horse riding and Lola staged an accident so they could meet.
Known notoriously for her outrageous style and outspoken attitude, Lola’s career as a dancer suffered greatly. Dujarier was the man she felt could turn it around, and for a time he did by writing glowing reviews of her in his paper. This though was an obvious failure to the French and Dujarier began losing credibility, friends, and support over his relationship with Lola. He told friends he was to marry Lola in the following spring. Lola never told him that she was still married. In 1845 at a party Dujarier insulted a fellow critic, Jean-Baptiste Rosemond de Beaupin de Beauvallon presumably over a comment on Lola and died in a duel with the man the following morning. Incidentally de Beauvallon was known for his skill with a pistol. Dujarier never had a chance. There was nothing left and Lola left Paris soon after.
Eventually finding her way into Munich posing as Spanish nobility Lola desired to be in the court of King Ludwig. Just as she had with Dujarier, Lola examined the situation until finding her way in. Count Otto Von Rechberg was Aide de Campe to Ludwig. And also just as she had done with Dujarier she arranged a meeting with Rechberg.
As Rechberg dined in an out door café one morning, Lola rode by on her horse. Suddenly the horse started and threw Lola to the ground, near the feet of Rechberg. As he helped her up, Rechberg became enchanted and eventually promised her a meeting with the King.
Lola arrived at the castle on the appointed day and as she waited she heard King Ludwig berating Rechberg as he had no time to meet with a “favor-seeking stranger.” Taking action Lola burst into the room; somewhere in the shuffle having the bodice of her dress torn there Lola stood, before the King with her breasts bore to the court. Lola had her stage to perform on within three days and Lola soon became Mistress to the King. Her stage performances were poorly reviewed, yet they continued.
Until this time Bavaria had been a peaceful, prosperous kingdom and King Ludwig was loved. He had been known to be fair and for his level headedness. When he met Lola though he began showering her with lavish gifts and writing her poetry. Like Dujarier, Ludwig started falling from favor and began losing credibility, friends, and support over his relationship with Lola.
Lola became a power behind the throne in advising Ludwig on matters of state. Other members of the court who spoke against Lola were dismissed. Lola’s power became greater than her and it went to her head. One day while walking her dog, it attacked a passer-by. Rather than bring the dog to heel, Lola began whipping the man with the dog’s leash. On another occasion as Lola rode her horse down a narrow path she came upon an elderly man riding in the same direction, but slower. Lola being unable to pass began slashing at the man with her riding crop. Soon it became public that Ludwig was working to make Lola a naturalized citizen, and a Countess.
This was too much for the citizens of Munich. The once peaceful peoples were now feared on the verge of civil war, rioting in the streets chanting, “Raus mit Lola!”? By early 1848 Lola was exiled from Bavaria. Five weeks later Kind Ludwig was made to abdicate his throne. The once loved king was no more. In exile, Lola received word of Ludwig’s loss of power and there she waited for Ludwig to come be with her. Ludwig never came and Lola left for England.
In England Lola found herself in the company of a young English army officer, George Trafford Heald. They fell in love and married in 1849. Heald came from a prominent English family and had a promising future. Unfortunately Lola remained married to James and for this was arrested soon after. Free on bail, Lola moved to Spain with Heald in tow to escape prosecution. There they fought terribly and within a few years Heald returned on his own to England to find himself entirely disinherited from his family, the army, and ostracized by society. Heald soon moved by himself to Portugal where within a few short months, he was dead.
Lola, ever looking to the horizon chose the United States as a destination. Germany, France, England. . . she was no longer welcome. In 1851 she left to make her start and for the next two years worked as a dancer in the Eastern United States before moving to San Francisco in 1853 where she met and married another newspaper owner, Patrick Hull. Hull’s friend and partner Louise Lull advised him against it. “That woman is ruining you. You are making a show of yourself, that woman has bewitched you,” Lull would say. Hull would never listen.
The marriage didn’t last more than a few months and yet Lola got the house where she stayed until news of another gold rush in Australia made it to the Americas. During her time in San Francisco Lola entertained the gold miners. Sydney seemed like the next logical step to her where she had seen men make and spend their wealth right before her eyes.
Lola didn’t last long in Australia. It was less than a few months before theaters started to sometimes enjoy and others suffer the benefit of her raucous performances. Again just as in France and Bavaria, Lola roused the ire of the press for such stunts as when pursued onto a ship by a sheriffs deputy holding a debtors warrant, she stripped naked and dared the deputy to seize her. He left without arresting her.
In 1856 the editor of The Ballarat Times, Henry Seekamp wrote an article critical of Lola as being immoral. Rumors had spread of her displaying her genetalia to the audience. The argument came to a head outside the United States Hotel in Ballarat where the two squared off with horsewhips. Lola won. They charged each other with assault and libel, the cases were dismissed with sympathy going to Lola. Lola then filed a warrant against Seekamp, but failed to appear on the appointed court date. Lola had been badly beaten by a wife of one of the miners she entertained. She spent a month recovering.
In 1857 Lola first returned to Britain, then the United States to deliver a series of lecture on moral virtues written by the Reverend Charles Chauncy Burr. Lola had suddenly changed and appeared genuinely repentant.
Lola began wasting away and soon died of Syphilis on January 16, 1861.
It all makes me think of the following from Chapter IV of the book, “Beyond Good and Evil” by Freidrich Nietzsche:
Apophthegms and Interludes
89. Dreadful experiences raise the question whether he who experiences them is not something dreadful also.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Lessons from the Dalai Franklin
"It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had imagined. While my care was employed in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage of inattention; inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. I concluded, at length, that the mere speculative conviction that it was our interest to be completely virtuous was not sufficient to prevent our slipping, and that the contrary habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and established, before we can have any dependence on a steady, uniform rectitude of conduct."
-Benjamin Franklin, "The Autobiography and Other Writings"
That is quite the ambitious statement. I remember when I first read that I laughed out loud. Now this is on my mind because as traverse a course of self-enrichment, I am reminded that men of greater stature than I have attempted similar feats, each enjoyed a varying degree of success. Franklin himself gave up on the idea after about a year.
He did enjoy his own measures of success and failure in his attempt and he felt himself the better man for it. Franklin as it turned out was regimented in this; he kept a journal on his efforts and in retrospect he found himself so much fuller of faults than he had previously believed. At a few points he wanted to give up but eventually he allowed himself that, "a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself."
I contrast this with the teachings of the Dalai Lama where he discusses replacing hate, anger and frustration with patience and compassion, areas in which I am trying to improve. There are days when it seems so appealing to lash out at those from whom I've felt slighted, and then I recall there is no reason to, I've spoken my peace and I need to let it go at that. Learn my lesson, move on and find happiness in the growth of others.
-Benjamin Franklin, "The Autobiography and Other Writings"
That is quite the ambitious statement. I remember when I first read that I laughed out loud. Now this is on my mind because as traverse a course of self-enrichment, I am reminded that men of greater stature than I have attempted similar feats, each enjoyed a varying degree of success. Franklin himself gave up on the idea after about a year.
He did enjoy his own measures of success and failure in his attempt and he felt himself the better man for it. Franklin as it turned out was regimented in this; he kept a journal on his efforts and in retrospect he found himself so much fuller of faults than he had previously believed. At a few points he wanted to give up but eventually he allowed himself that, "a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself."
I contrast this with the teachings of the Dalai Lama where he discusses replacing hate, anger and frustration with patience and compassion, areas in which I am trying to improve. There are days when it seems so appealing to lash out at those from whom I've felt slighted, and then I recall there is no reason to, I've spoken my peace and I need to let it go at that. Learn my lesson, move on and find happiness in the growth of others.
Feel Good Inc.
Today I want to explore love. When is the strongest you’ve ever felt it and with whom? You might say that person was your mom, your friend, your lover, etc. but truthfully each of those can be transient, ambiguous or arbitrary at best.
Sure we all love our parents to some degree or another. Even those that I’ve known who’ve grown up in the most extreme of situations say that on some level say they still love their parents, but it’s a cautious love tempered with self preservation. They love them because it’s their mom, or their dad, which is about all the definition they might offer.
Early on that love is pure. Some say it’s because a child bonds with at least their mother and relies upon them for survival but really when you were six years old did you honestly understand that without your family you’d have no one to care for you and could be absolutely alone? Maybe you did, but I recall that being about the age I was the first time I considered running away from home. If you didn’t then maybe you’re the exception. Such feelings have been so prevalent in society that Hank Ketchum used the stereotype time and again in his comic strip, "Dennis the Menace." The small child running away from home is the quintessential symbol of youth and innocence running headlong into something they know nothing about or at least understand very little of.
Like the aforementioned character, as children we are self-centered and self indulgent. Our parents place us on a pedestal and make us the center of their universe. Most parents do anyway and for that it becomes easy for the child to take them for granted. Mom or dad will always be there to wipe your nose, give you lunch money and tuck you in at night. As children we are unable to see past our condition and through that we can blame mom and/or dad for every little flaw and ding in our own character. We are after all the products of our environments aren’t we? Usually that’s a grown up way of saying, "Mom and dad didn’t love me enough," or, "They didn’t buy me that puppy/pony/bike/car when I asked for it."
As the child enters prepubescence and on through their teenage years it becomes less and less about the parent and more about the child. Call bullshit all you want but think back on how often you made one or both of your parents cry in those first 18 years. Now barring it being a genuinely abusive situation, how many times did they make you cry and over what? If your answer falls into the puppy/pony/bike/car category you should realize that they most likely anguished over that far more than you did, they just did it in private. If you don’t see that and indeed did make it into those years without being taken from them by DCFS then you’re probably that same self centered and self-indulgent child I mentioned before.
Because most parents keep the suffering of their decisions private from their children, the child is never fully able to realize that their parents have it just as hard, if not worse than they do. They are unable to see the consequence of their words or actions and as such never fully appreciate that their parents have needs, wants and desires of their own.
Here’s a real example. A 14-year-old boy I know was recently asked by his widowed mother how he would feel if she started dating. "I would chase them away," he said. He went on to explain that he liked his current position and was willing to defend it. Inversely his parent will never stop loving him or hold his happiness conditional just as he himself had stated he would. In a healthy parent/child relationship, nothing, not a lover, friend or extended family member will move the child from that position in the parents heart. Not even his siblings who share that space can remove him from it, but they will gladly smack the shit out of you if you keep it up, "toolboy".
Anyway; I know I don’t need to explain the love we have for a friend in the same detail. We may love, care and sacrifice ourselves on occasion for this person, but it’s always tempered by our own self-interests. Even if we put ourselves aside for our friends, it’s done out of our own self-interest. Contrast this with the role of a lover and really there is little difference. Fidelity and honesty must exist in both, just with a lover is the added bonus of the relationship being sexual. Too many confuse this relationship with being, for lack of a better term, true love.
It goes without mention though that all love is true. The only real factor that determines if it’s anything more is its durability. How many close friends or lovers have you had in the past who you wouldn’t care to see or at least be indifferent to if you did see them today? Much less how many close friends or even lovers do you have that you could go days without speaking to?
This doesn’t make their roles any less valuable to you. You know that if you needed something you could call on them and most likely they will be there. It’s not guaranteed that they will, but you know they are there to handle some piece of the issue, in their own time. Especially if you are that same self centered and self indulgent child, you need to remember that your friends have lives and problems of their own and more than likely they will call on you to help with them. Be it friends or lovers, you have to take the good times with the bad. Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.
If it were that way, would life be worth living? For me it’s the negative that helps me appreciate the positives. In retrospect perhaps that’s why I don’t trust people who only reflect what is positive in their lives. The only thing being demonstrated when they show that life is always good is that they won’t be there when times get rough. No one is superhuman and trying to show yourself as being such is just insulting. Those are the real vampires; the members of Feel Good Inc.
So then what is love? There was a time when I thought I had a handle on it. I met and married a woman whom I thought beautiful inside and out, and in retrospect I see how conditional we really were. I now realize that I was still that same self centered and self-indulgent child and so was she. We had everything going on; we were self-sufficient with dual incomes and really no expenses to speak of. Every weekend was something to do as our time was our own. Vacations and amusements were nothing to really think of, we just did them. We were married five years before a brush with death caused us to reconsider keeping our relationship child-free.
In reality and we’ve both discussed it, neither of us knew what love was until we had a child together. Ironically it wasn’t a renewed love for each other, it was a love for this child. It was the only time I actually experienced love at first sight and it’s a bond that defies most rational explanation. Somewhere in one of my boxes is video of me holding her soon after she was born, promising her my world and everything I build in it.
The love a person has for their friend might be somewhere between indifference and a happy conditional acceptance, but the love I have for my daughter is one that borders on obsessive. I’ve talked to other parents and for them it is the same. What’s also the same for them is that it’s unlike any type of love they’ve felt before. To a person without a child, this might sound questionable, but consider this; I already know that I will be the father that scares the crap out of boyfriends and will jealously guard my daughter’s virtue. So far that sounds like the father of most every daughter I’ve dated. How do I know I’ll do this? Because there are two other young ladies for whom I already have. It’s been good practice and I appreciate that they let me be that person to them.
The love a parent has for a child is an absolute, unconditional love. Later in life I’m expecting my daughter to not appreciate me so much as she does now, but I don’t believe I’ll love her less for it and later in life, should I become a burden to her I’ll feel bad for it. She might resent me and maybe even one day say she hates me, but I know I’ll always love her unconditionally. It’s a love that hurts so much the pain becomes exquisite and reminds me that I am alive and that my life has a higher purpose. My life and most all of its related decisions are based on what’s best for her.
Now using that love as a gauge I have an understanding of relationships a bit different than those who are child-free. I love you all, but most no one comes close to how I feel for my daughter. Any of my friends, without hesitation I would step over your body for her and really I would expect you to do the same if it came down to it. That’s a quality most won’t at least express. A few do and for that I appreciate them so much more.
Think about it like this; imagine everything good in your life, your relationships, your possessions, your accomplishments, your feelings for all of that still doesn’t equate to how a parent feels for their child. Now imagine losing all of it. That pain you feel in your gut, like you’ve been eviscerated is still nothing like what a child can make you feel. The only thing that equates to is divorce; pretty small in the grand scheme of things.
A good example happened when I was with my ex-wife. She developed an addiction towards the end of our relationship. I remained loving, supportive and understanding; I wasn’t happy about it but I did it because it’s what I felt to be the right thing to do. The last two years was like beating a dead horse and eventually I decided it was over, as I had no more to give. It wasn’t easy to walk away though it was made easier because I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my daughter. I don’t mean figuratively either, I mean physically like when I was jumped by her and the contents of the crack house I found her at with my child. That was the day I left her, I did it beaten, bloody, bruised and still without my child, but I didn’t give up and in the end I did win. And it was a solid legal victory too.
That is why over the years I’d come to feel the way I did for Cynthia and her daughters. I thought her just as capable of caring for my child as she did her own and believed she sourced her power as a parent from the same place that I still do. Neither of us abused our children and we both had a fairly liberal policy towards them; one of guidance rather than limitation and letting them experience the world about them rather than punishing for doing so. As such my feelings for her and her children were in greater parallel to those I still have towards my daughter, than those I ever felt for Paula in our ten years of her and I being married.
It’s a genuine, healthy emotional state. If it were unhealthy, parenting would be illegal. And it’s just unfortunate that many will go their entire lives oblivious to what I’m talking about.
That’s what the pack mentality is all about. It’s not a loose affiliation of casual acquaintances and conditional relationships and it’s more than just providing food, water and shelter. It’s about correcting behavior contrary to the overall good, guiding in the skills necessary to function in life and being both physically and emotionally available on a moments notice.
Yeah in many ways I still am self-centered and self indulgent, but I’m starting to realize how that factors into my life.
Sure we all love our parents to some degree or another. Even those that I’ve known who’ve grown up in the most extreme of situations say that on some level say they still love their parents, but it’s a cautious love tempered with self preservation. They love them because it’s their mom, or their dad, which is about all the definition they might offer.
Early on that love is pure. Some say it’s because a child bonds with at least their mother and relies upon them for survival but really when you were six years old did you honestly understand that without your family you’d have no one to care for you and could be absolutely alone? Maybe you did, but I recall that being about the age I was the first time I considered running away from home. If you didn’t then maybe you’re the exception. Such feelings have been so prevalent in society that Hank Ketchum used the stereotype time and again in his comic strip, "Dennis the Menace." The small child running away from home is the quintessential symbol of youth and innocence running headlong into something they know nothing about or at least understand very little of.
Like the aforementioned character, as children we are self-centered and self indulgent. Our parents place us on a pedestal and make us the center of their universe. Most parents do anyway and for that it becomes easy for the child to take them for granted. Mom or dad will always be there to wipe your nose, give you lunch money and tuck you in at night. As children we are unable to see past our condition and through that we can blame mom and/or dad for every little flaw and ding in our own character. We are after all the products of our environments aren’t we? Usually that’s a grown up way of saying, "Mom and dad didn’t love me enough," or, "They didn’t buy me that puppy/pony/bike/car when I asked for it."
As the child enters prepubescence and on through their teenage years it becomes less and less about the parent and more about the child. Call bullshit all you want but think back on how often you made one or both of your parents cry in those first 18 years. Now barring it being a genuinely abusive situation, how many times did they make you cry and over what? If your answer falls into the puppy/pony/bike/car category you should realize that they most likely anguished over that far more than you did, they just did it in private. If you don’t see that and indeed did make it into those years without being taken from them by DCFS then you’re probably that same self centered and self-indulgent child I mentioned before.
Because most parents keep the suffering of their decisions private from their children, the child is never fully able to realize that their parents have it just as hard, if not worse than they do. They are unable to see the consequence of their words or actions and as such never fully appreciate that their parents have needs, wants and desires of their own.
Here’s a real example. A 14-year-old boy I know was recently asked by his widowed mother how he would feel if she started dating. "I would chase them away," he said. He went on to explain that he liked his current position and was willing to defend it. Inversely his parent will never stop loving him or hold his happiness conditional just as he himself had stated he would. In a healthy parent/child relationship, nothing, not a lover, friend or extended family member will move the child from that position in the parents heart. Not even his siblings who share that space can remove him from it, but they will gladly smack the shit out of you if you keep it up, "toolboy".
Anyway; I know I don’t need to explain the love we have for a friend in the same detail. We may love, care and sacrifice ourselves on occasion for this person, but it’s always tempered by our own self-interests. Even if we put ourselves aside for our friends, it’s done out of our own self-interest. Contrast this with the role of a lover and really there is little difference. Fidelity and honesty must exist in both, just with a lover is the added bonus of the relationship being sexual. Too many confuse this relationship with being, for lack of a better term, true love.
It goes without mention though that all love is true. The only real factor that determines if it’s anything more is its durability. How many close friends or lovers have you had in the past who you wouldn’t care to see or at least be indifferent to if you did see them today? Much less how many close friends or even lovers do you have that you could go days without speaking to?
This doesn’t make their roles any less valuable to you. You know that if you needed something you could call on them and most likely they will be there. It’s not guaranteed that they will, but you know they are there to handle some piece of the issue, in their own time. Especially if you are that same self centered and self indulgent child, you need to remember that your friends have lives and problems of their own and more than likely they will call on you to help with them. Be it friends or lovers, you have to take the good times with the bad. Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.
If it were that way, would life be worth living? For me it’s the negative that helps me appreciate the positives. In retrospect perhaps that’s why I don’t trust people who only reflect what is positive in their lives. The only thing being demonstrated when they show that life is always good is that they won’t be there when times get rough. No one is superhuman and trying to show yourself as being such is just insulting. Those are the real vampires; the members of Feel Good Inc.
So then what is love? There was a time when I thought I had a handle on it. I met and married a woman whom I thought beautiful inside and out, and in retrospect I see how conditional we really were. I now realize that I was still that same self centered and self-indulgent child and so was she. We had everything going on; we were self-sufficient with dual incomes and really no expenses to speak of. Every weekend was something to do as our time was our own. Vacations and amusements were nothing to really think of, we just did them. We were married five years before a brush with death caused us to reconsider keeping our relationship child-free.
In reality and we’ve both discussed it, neither of us knew what love was until we had a child together. Ironically it wasn’t a renewed love for each other, it was a love for this child. It was the only time I actually experienced love at first sight and it’s a bond that defies most rational explanation. Somewhere in one of my boxes is video of me holding her soon after she was born, promising her my world and everything I build in it.
The love a person has for their friend might be somewhere between indifference and a happy conditional acceptance, but the love I have for my daughter is one that borders on obsessive. I’ve talked to other parents and for them it is the same. What’s also the same for them is that it’s unlike any type of love they’ve felt before. To a person without a child, this might sound questionable, but consider this; I already know that I will be the father that scares the crap out of boyfriends and will jealously guard my daughter’s virtue. So far that sounds like the father of most every daughter I’ve dated. How do I know I’ll do this? Because there are two other young ladies for whom I already have. It’s been good practice and I appreciate that they let me be that person to them.
The love a parent has for a child is an absolute, unconditional love. Later in life I’m expecting my daughter to not appreciate me so much as she does now, but I don’t believe I’ll love her less for it and later in life, should I become a burden to her I’ll feel bad for it. She might resent me and maybe even one day say she hates me, but I know I’ll always love her unconditionally. It’s a love that hurts so much the pain becomes exquisite and reminds me that I am alive and that my life has a higher purpose. My life and most all of its related decisions are based on what’s best for her.
Now using that love as a gauge I have an understanding of relationships a bit different than those who are child-free. I love you all, but most no one comes close to how I feel for my daughter. Any of my friends, without hesitation I would step over your body for her and really I would expect you to do the same if it came down to it. That’s a quality most won’t at least express. A few do and for that I appreciate them so much more.
Think about it like this; imagine everything good in your life, your relationships, your possessions, your accomplishments, your feelings for all of that still doesn’t equate to how a parent feels for their child. Now imagine losing all of it. That pain you feel in your gut, like you’ve been eviscerated is still nothing like what a child can make you feel. The only thing that equates to is divorce; pretty small in the grand scheme of things.
A good example happened when I was with my ex-wife. She developed an addiction towards the end of our relationship. I remained loving, supportive and understanding; I wasn’t happy about it but I did it because it’s what I felt to be the right thing to do. The last two years was like beating a dead horse and eventually I decided it was over, as I had no more to give. It wasn’t easy to walk away though it was made easier because I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my daughter. I don’t mean figuratively either, I mean physically like when I was jumped by her and the contents of the crack house I found her at with my child. That was the day I left her, I did it beaten, bloody, bruised and still without my child, but I didn’t give up and in the end I did win. And it was a solid legal victory too.
That is why over the years I’d come to feel the way I did for Cynthia and her daughters. I thought her just as capable of caring for my child as she did her own and believed she sourced her power as a parent from the same place that I still do. Neither of us abused our children and we both had a fairly liberal policy towards them; one of guidance rather than limitation and letting them experience the world about them rather than punishing for doing so. As such my feelings for her and her children were in greater parallel to those I still have towards my daughter, than those I ever felt for Paula in our ten years of her and I being married.
It’s a genuine, healthy emotional state. If it were unhealthy, parenting would be illegal. And it’s just unfortunate that many will go their entire lives oblivious to what I’m talking about.
That’s what the pack mentality is all about. It’s not a loose affiliation of casual acquaintances and conditional relationships and it’s more than just providing food, water and shelter. It’s about correcting behavior contrary to the overall good, guiding in the skills necessary to function in life and being both physically and emotionally available on a moments notice.
Yeah in many ways I still am self-centered and self indulgent, but I’m starting to realize how that factors into my life.
I dream of Jesus
The only box one should ever find themselves in is the one in which they plan to be buried. We all like to label things; it gives us a false sense of control. Like the renaissance tales of necromancy, the key to controlling the demon or spirit was knowing its name just as the key to controlling the djinn was leveraging them with God's will or trapping them in a bottle. Label it and keep it in a box.
According to the Qur'an, the djinn were God's counterpart to humans and second of the three intelligent races, the third being angels. Made of fire the djinn live formless and were endowed with free will just as man, which made them answerable all the same. The leader of this group, named Shaitan (is that you satan?) at first shared in the Garden of Eden only to be later cast out for refusing to bow to Adam as his was a power Shaitan saw as no more superior than his own.
The Qur'an was written sometime around the 4th century and with little variation shares much in common with the Old Testament of the Holy Bible and the Torah. Even the Hindu Vedas contain many similarities and like the Vedas, the Qur'an has survived over 1,500 years with no significant changes being made to it. Better still if you've read any of the early Sumerian texts like The Epic of Gilgamesh or The Descent of Inanna written some three-thousand years ago, you can see echoes of all four of these books and much Greek and Egyptian theology. There even exists similarity to some Native and Mesoamerican beliefs.
Muslim, Jew, Christian, Hindu; yeah I put them all in one pot. Names and genders are really the only things that have been changed. Outside of that they're all pretty much the same stories. Here's the quickest path from A to B; read The Epic of Gilgamesh, consume every little thing you can find about Jesus, then learn of the first Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama. If you're more a Dianist read The Descent of Inanna, read up on the Virgin Mary, then look into Persephone.
By now you should be scratching your head a little and maybe even looking through Wikipedia trying to find the holes in my argument, but no matter as this is MY existential thought for the day, get your own.
One of the many common asides they share is the harnessing of energies to satisfy the will of the individual with varying degrees of acceptance and disdain. Consider the genie; a conceptual quasi-fantastic being issuing forth from in a billowing plume of colored smoke from some discovered lamp. We're all ok with the fantasy. We've all been asked the question of what would we do with a million dollars as if it's going to magically manifest when we give the correct answer and have at times even wished it would.
We want comfort and we want it fast, we want it easy. I've always said some will stop struggling just to feign comfort and to me it is that struggle which reminds us that we are alive. Others though, others will make a genie where they can't find one. Let's look at that.
The Arabic effeminate of djinn is jinneyah or "jinni", similar in structure and definition to the French word "genie", which came from the Latin word "genius". The Latin word, "Genius" was actually the masculine guardian spirit assigned to males at birth, Juno was the effeminate. Two thousand years later we got Barbara Eden. Names and gender change, but the story remains the same. Damn, and you thought you were breaking that cycle.
A person famous for harnessing the djinn and common to the Muslim, Judeo-Christian canon is of course King Solomon who practiced ruling with an iron fist covered in a velvet glove. Solomon exercised his power over this group through various means. Among some of the more impressive things Solomon used them for, besides building the Temple of Solomon was to chase escaped virgins and escort he and his friends on day trips to hell. Certainly he had the Seal of Solomon, That was just his leverage, but he also knew their names and who was good for what.
Essentially everyone carries a Seal of their own. Consider this; we all have friends we'll call on for particular tasks depending on their talents, abilities or dispositions. We put them in boxes and sometimes keep them on a shelf to be pulled when needed and they do it to us as well. This is where it's important to realize the need to stay out of a box. It doesn't matter how powerful you think you are; once you've made yourself predictable, you're just one of the flock.
Of course it remains important to be predictable in a few areas. The only truth is the one that is seen, not said. This is where you become impeccable with your word; but don't give out your word to just anyone as it becomes their seal to control you.
Strangely all this comes from a damned song I have stuck in my head. Does anyone remember The Dead Milkmen? How about their song, "I dream of Jesus"? Here, have some lyrics.
I Dream Of Jesus
by The Dead Milkmen
from the album, Not Richard But Dick
It was during my 2nd senior year when Mom found Jesus Christ. His
spirit was trapped inside an old Nana Shepard's bottle that Mom picked
out of the dumpster behind the 7-11. Mom brought the bottle inside and
sat it down on top of the TV. Then she told all of us kids to gather
round, and then she explained how Jesus lived in the bottle, and how,
if she wanted to, she could call him out to do her bidding. Sis said it
reminded her of an old TV show, and Mom slapped her and called her a
heretic. I didn't say anything, cause I just still remember the time
outside the Safeway, when it took 4 security guards to hold Mom down.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
It wasn't long before people from all over the world started coming to
our house to see the bottle. At first I thought that this would make me
more popular at school. Instead it seemed to have the opposite result.
Kids would stop and point at me in the hallway and say, "There's the boy
whose mother keeps our savior cooped up in that tiny little bottle." And
then everybody started calling me 'Bottle boy'. And that really hurt. It
was also around this time that Mom began to attract some really weird
followers. Like that guy who never used deodorant and spoke only in
riddles. And that woman who collected 19th century hand made Amish
swimwear.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
As the year went on, things went from bad to worse, and I realized that
if there wasn't a big change pretty soon, I'd never be able to get a
date for the prom. I couldn't go the year before because Mom belonged
to a church that considered dancing a one way ticket to Hell. But
that's a whole nother story. Anyway, by this point Mom had appeared on
the Richard Bey Show, A.M. Philadelphia and Geraldo, so there was
no use in me changing schools, since everybody knew who my Mom was.
Also we had to spend all the money from Mom's personal appearances to
hire a bodyguard, since by this point we were getting about 400 death
threats a day.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Then one night, I just couldn't stand it any more. While everyone else
was sleeping I crept downstairs. Slowly I went up to the bottle and
began to unfasten the lid. At first, nothing happened. But then the room
filled with a thick white smoke. I was glad my sister had taken the
batteries out of the smoke detector to put into her Walkman. When the
smoke cleared, I found myself face to face with the son of God, who was
much shorter than I had expected. He told me that since I'd freed Him,
He'd grant me one wish. And that's how I got to go to the prom with
Geena Davis. But you probably already read about that in People.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
According to the Qur'an, the djinn were God's counterpart to humans and second of the three intelligent races, the third being angels. Made of fire the djinn live formless and were endowed with free will just as man, which made them answerable all the same. The leader of this group, named Shaitan (is that you satan?) at first shared in the Garden of Eden only to be later cast out for refusing to bow to Adam as his was a power Shaitan saw as no more superior than his own.
The Qur'an was written sometime around the 4th century and with little variation shares much in common with the Old Testament of the Holy Bible and the Torah. Even the Hindu Vedas contain many similarities and like the Vedas, the Qur'an has survived over 1,500 years with no significant changes being made to it. Better still if you've read any of the early Sumerian texts like The Epic of Gilgamesh or The Descent of Inanna written some three-thousand years ago, you can see echoes of all four of these books and much Greek and Egyptian theology. There even exists similarity to some Native and Mesoamerican beliefs.
Muslim, Jew, Christian, Hindu; yeah I put them all in one pot. Names and genders are really the only things that have been changed. Outside of that they're all pretty much the same stories. Here's the quickest path from A to B; read The Epic of Gilgamesh, consume every little thing you can find about Jesus, then learn of the first Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama. If you're more a Dianist read The Descent of Inanna, read up on the Virgin Mary, then look into Persephone.
By now you should be scratching your head a little and maybe even looking through Wikipedia trying to find the holes in my argument, but no matter as this is MY existential thought for the day, get your own.
One of the many common asides they share is the harnessing of energies to satisfy the will of the individual with varying degrees of acceptance and disdain. Consider the genie; a conceptual quasi-fantastic being issuing forth from in a billowing plume of colored smoke from some discovered lamp. We're all ok with the fantasy. We've all been asked the question of what would we do with a million dollars as if it's going to magically manifest when we give the correct answer and have at times even wished it would.
We want comfort and we want it fast, we want it easy. I've always said some will stop struggling just to feign comfort and to me it is that struggle which reminds us that we are alive. Others though, others will make a genie where they can't find one. Let's look at that.
The Arabic effeminate of djinn is jinneyah or "jinni", similar in structure and definition to the French word "genie", which came from the Latin word "genius". The Latin word, "Genius" was actually the masculine guardian spirit assigned to males at birth, Juno was the effeminate. Two thousand years later we got Barbara Eden. Names and gender change, but the story remains the same. Damn, and you thought you were breaking that cycle.
A person famous for harnessing the djinn and common to the Muslim, Judeo-Christian canon is of course King Solomon who practiced ruling with an iron fist covered in a velvet glove. Solomon exercised his power over this group through various means. Among some of the more impressive things Solomon used them for, besides building the Temple of Solomon was to chase escaped virgins and escort he and his friends on day trips to hell. Certainly he had the Seal of Solomon, That was just his leverage, but he also knew their names and who was good for what.
Essentially everyone carries a Seal of their own. Consider this; we all have friends we'll call on for particular tasks depending on their talents, abilities or dispositions. We put them in boxes and sometimes keep them on a shelf to be pulled when needed and they do it to us as well. This is where it's important to realize the need to stay out of a box. It doesn't matter how powerful you think you are; once you've made yourself predictable, you're just one of the flock.
Of course it remains important to be predictable in a few areas. The only truth is the one that is seen, not said. This is where you become impeccable with your word; but don't give out your word to just anyone as it becomes their seal to control you.
Strangely all this comes from a damned song I have stuck in my head. Does anyone remember The Dead Milkmen? How about their song, "I dream of Jesus"? Here, have some lyrics.
I Dream Of Jesus
by The Dead Milkmen
from the album, Not Richard But Dick
It was during my 2nd senior year when Mom found Jesus Christ. His
spirit was trapped inside an old Nana Shepard's bottle that Mom picked
out of the dumpster behind the 7-11. Mom brought the bottle inside and
sat it down on top of the TV. Then she told all of us kids to gather
round, and then she explained how Jesus lived in the bottle, and how,
if she wanted to, she could call him out to do her bidding. Sis said it
reminded her of an old TV show, and Mom slapped her and called her a
heretic. I didn't say anything, cause I just still remember the time
outside the Safeway, when it took 4 security guards to hold Mom down.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
It wasn't long before people from all over the world started coming to
our house to see the bottle. At first I thought that this would make me
more popular at school. Instead it seemed to have the opposite result.
Kids would stop and point at me in the hallway and say, "There's the boy
whose mother keeps our savior cooped up in that tiny little bottle." And
then everybody started calling me 'Bottle boy'. And that really hurt. It
was also around this time that Mom began to attract some really weird
followers. Like that guy who never used deodorant and spoke only in
riddles. And that woman who collected 19th century hand made Amish
swimwear.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
As the year went on, things went from bad to worse, and I realized that
if there wasn't a big change pretty soon, I'd never be able to get a
date for the prom. I couldn't go the year before because Mom belonged
to a church that considered dancing a one way ticket to Hell. But
that's a whole nother story. Anyway, by this point Mom had appeared on
the Richard Bey Show, A.M. Philadelphia and Geraldo, so there was
no use in me changing schools, since everybody knew who my Mom was.
Also we had to spend all the money from Mom's personal appearances to
hire a bodyguard, since by this point we were getting about 400 death
threats a day.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Then one night, I just couldn't stand it any more. While everyone else
was sleeping I crept downstairs. Slowly I went up to the bottle and
began to unfasten the lid. At first, nothing happened. But then the room
filled with a thick white smoke. I was glad my sister had taken the
batteries out of the smoke detector to put into her Walkman. When the
smoke cleared, I found myself face to face with the son of God, who was
much shorter than I had expected. He told me that since I'd freed Him,
He'd grant me one wish. And that's how I got to go to the prom with
Geena Davis. But you probably already read about that in People.
Jesus loves me, yes I know
For the Bible tells me so
When I'm weak he makes me strong
That's why I sing this song
If I die before I wake
Pray to him my soul don't take
Jesus loves me, yes I know
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she had a special bottle in which our savior lived
Mommy she loved Jesus, but not like others did
For she could unleash His vengeance by unfastening the lid
Yo. . . dude; dig karma.
Ok so I know the principal of karma isn't some malevolent force that inflicts hard lessons in the current life. That's just the Universe swinging its cosmic 2x4. If you're really not paying attention it sometimes runs you down with its cosmic Mack Truck. This was one of those moments of feeling the lumber. The sting means it's working.
After work yesterday I had some time to kill. I stopped into the tearoom for a bit then as closing time approached I chose to walk over to the Gallivan Center Plaza. As I waited to cross Main I was approached by a man asking for spare change. "I don't normally carry cash," I told him. He made some faces, muttered something under his breath and walked away. I discussed this later with friends and mild amusement. Hold scene.
I imagine I looked to him the epitome of some spoiled bastard. I was lost in listening to my iPod, carrying my briefcase with free wireless internet in mind and dammit, I just looked fuckin' good doing it. Mind your step.
This morning I courted the snooze button. I played. I tinkered. I outright slept in. With no time to spare for breakfast I figured I'd grab something from the convenience store on my way to the train, but when I get there my card was declined? No time to concern myself with it. Gotta keep moving.
As I drove to the station I realized I don't even have change on me. Once on the train I was able to get online (yay for free wireless) and check my balance. Seems the bank posted a duplicate transaction on my rent payment placing me significantly overdrawn. I called the bank. They're working on it. They'll call me back. But here I sit, at my desk; no coffee; no breakfast.
I'm no longer amused, but still I think back to the panhandler yesterday and I realize how it certainly appears that my parachute has a hole in it. For the same reasons that I was unable to help care for that man are the same that I was made unable to care for myself. It's not karma; it's just the Universe again. Lesson learned.
After work yesterday I had some time to kill. I stopped into the tearoom for a bit then as closing time approached I chose to walk over to the Gallivan Center Plaza. As I waited to cross Main I was approached by a man asking for spare change. "I don't normally carry cash," I told him. He made some faces, muttered something under his breath and walked away. I discussed this later with friends and mild amusement. Hold scene.
I imagine I looked to him the epitome of some spoiled bastard. I was lost in listening to my iPod, carrying my briefcase with free wireless internet in mind and dammit, I just looked fuckin' good doing it. Mind your step.
This morning I courted the snooze button. I played. I tinkered. I outright slept in. With no time to spare for breakfast I figured I'd grab something from the convenience store on my way to the train, but when I get there my card was declined? No time to concern myself with it. Gotta keep moving.
As I drove to the station I realized I don't even have change on me. Once on the train I was able to get online (yay for free wireless) and check my balance. Seems the bank posted a duplicate transaction on my rent payment placing me significantly overdrawn. I called the bank. They're working on it. They'll call me back. But here I sit, at my desk; no coffee; no breakfast.
I'm no longer amused, but still I think back to the panhandler yesterday and I realize how it certainly appears that my parachute has a hole in it. For the same reasons that I was unable to help care for that man are the same that I was made unable to care for myself. It's not karma; it's just the Universe again. Lesson learned.
My Heroes
Most everyone I could consider heroes are members of my family. I get to see all of their trials and errors, triumphs and failures, but I’ve never seen anyone of them curl up in a ball and say it was hopeless.
Those heroes immediate to me are:
My daughter Baleigh because she shows an innocence that reminds me that the shit which does not matter, can truly slide.
My brother Alex because he intelligently tries to break from the herd mentality.
My Mom for her demonstrable patience.
My Grandfather for his community service and self-sacrifice to just causes. The man is 100% blind and still volunteers as a weight trainer at his local YMCA.
My Grandmother because even after being made bedridden from a stroke, she worries most about who’s going to care for her man.
I've also friends for whom I find their bravery in the face of living outside of cultural norms very admirable and a few others who seemed to find the will to pick themselves up and dust off the remains of yesterday.
I love you all.
I appreciate each of these individuals and the roles they’ve played in my life. This is a definitive example of the world we share. No single person is so independent as they say. The truly independent person would be living off the land in some cabin in the woods. Even when writing of it Henry David Thoreau couldn’t do that. Theodore Kazinski could though, so maybe you’d do well to examine whose ideal you’re holding up.
Point made; we are all here because someone has been something to us and we’d all do well to appreciate those persons rather look towards those who desire nothing but to take something they have not worked for. The only places that give free lunches are homeless shelters and prisons; don’t allow yourself to become either one, but be something to someone.
Anyone can be a hero if they wanted, just few choose too because it requires effort. We do live in a vacuum and everything you have and everything you are came from somewhere. Just don't forget to redistribute what you’ve been given.
That redistribution and being involved is the key to being your own hero and your biggest hero should always be yourself. When you are your own, you know that pedestal you stand on is solid. From the age of about 10 until I was about 24 I volunteered with geriatric patients in nursing homes. Following a situation of my own I went on to working with brain injury survivors until about five years ago when I started tutoring and sometimes teaching English to refugees and international students.
You can only milk the glory of one accomplishment for so long and eventually that cat will learn its own way out of the tree. With that in mind it’s easy to ask, “What have you done today?”
Those heroes immediate to me are:
My daughter Baleigh because she shows an innocence that reminds me that the shit which does not matter, can truly slide.
My brother Alex because he intelligently tries to break from the herd mentality.
My Mom for her demonstrable patience.
My Grandfather for his community service and self-sacrifice to just causes. The man is 100% blind and still volunteers as a weight trainer at his local YMCA.
My Grandmother because even after being made bedridden from a stroke, she worries most about who’s going to care for her man.
I've also friends for whom I find their bravery in the face of living outside of cultural norms very admirable and a few others who seemed to find the will to pick themselves up and dust off the remains of yesterday.
I love you all.
I appreciate each of these individuals and the roles they’ve played in my life. This is a definitive example of the world we share. No single person is so independent as they say. The truly independent person would be living off the land in some cabin in the woods. Even when writing of it Henry David Thoreau couldn’t do that. Theodore Kazinski could though, so maybe you’d do well to examine whose ideal you’re holding up.
Point made; we are all here because someone has been something to us and we’d all do well to appreciate those persons rather look towards those who desire nothing but to take something they have not worked for. The only places that give free lunches are homeless shelters and prisons; don’t allow yourself to become either one, but be something to someone.
Anyone can be a hero if they wanted, just few choose too because it requires effort. We do live in a vacuum and everything you have and everything you are came from somewhere. Just don't forget to redistribute what you’ve been given.
That redistribution and being involved is the key to being your own hero and your biggest hero should always be yourself. When you are your own, you know that pedestal you stand on is solid. From the age of about 10 until I was about 24 I volunteered with geriatric patients in nursing homes. Following a situation of my own I went on to working with brain injury survivors until about five years ago when I started tutoring and sometimes teaching English to refugees and international students.
You can only milk the glory of one accomplishment for so long and eventually that cat will learn its own way out of the tree. With that in mind it’s easy to ask, “What have you done today?”
Once everyone's super. . .
Faster than a speeding bullet.
More powerful than a locomotive.
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Look! Up in the sky!
It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman!
Yes, it's Superman, strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.
Superman, who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel with his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights the never ending battle for Truth, Justice and the American Way.
Yes I am just that good, but I’m not Superman. I am more like Lex Luther who assails him; reminding that he is really a facade, nothing without the mirror he holds up to reflect his view on society. He hides behind that mirror to distract us from his own flaws, he's little more than a bitch. Superman has doomed himself to carry the corpse of the last man; still believing danger was his vocation and honoring him for it, when really the guy was just the ultimate result of nihilism.
I’m not talking of the Hollywood-ized, Lois and Clark. That’s not Superman, that’s a soap opera. I’m talking about the DC Comics Superman. His reflection of us is that we are weak, insecure and shy. He’s an illegal alien who hides as a costumed stereotype that’s near offensive. We are his laughing stock. Why there is no cry to deport him I’ll never understand. He does more damage than the people who clean my office at night, or the others who pick our crops so we can eat.
Let me tell you a secret; God is not here right now, he is no longer able to share our plain of existence. He became too weak to serve as the foundation for truth and morality so he left us alone in the Universe, abandoned. Maybe it is time that we consider the possibility that God doesn't like us, he never wanted us. And in all probability, He hates us.
We must now define our own values. In days like these we need to recognize what’s truly important in our lives because when one lets go of any positive belief or need, that person will stop struggling just to feign comfort.
I abhor the apparent necessity that I must fit myself into a box and be the same as everyone else; all mediocre, and yet perfectly content in it. But by all means continue to invent your happiness with allusion to eliminating all the strife and worries in life. That tightrope you walk is on my playground and I run between the animal and superman, just try to keep your balance.
To me life has a flavor that cannot be savored without living it; pain and pleasure, suffering and bliss all have a place and I will push the last man from one to the next. To those who can’t keep up. . . I offer no apologies, but if you say something I promise I’ll slow down long enough to walk you through it.
No it doesn’t mean that I require my day to day to be an action sequence. It just means that I try to keep myself in the here and now and not dwell on the past and lose myself to fantasies of what might have been. Good and bad, every little experience we’ve had makes us who we are right now. It’s realistic. It’s pragmatic. It’s today, and I invite you to join me in it.
More powerful than a locomotive.
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Look! Up in the sky!
It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman!
Yes, it's Superman, strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.
Superman, who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel with his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights the never ending battle for Truth, Justice and the American Way.
Yes I am just that good, but I’m not Superman. I am more like Lex Luther who assails him; reminding that he is really a facade, nothing without the mirror he holds up to reflect his view on society. He hides behind that mirror to distract us from his own flaws, he's little more than a bitch. Superman has doomed himself to carry the corpse of the last man; still believing danger was his vocation and honoring him for it, when really the guy was just the ultimate result of nihilism.
I’m not talking of the Hollywood-ized, Lois and Clark. That’s not Superman, that’s a soap opera. I’m talking about the DC Comics Superman. His reflection of us is that we are weak, insecure and shy. He’s an illegal alien who hides as a costumed stereotype that’s near offensive. We are his laughing stock. Why there is no cry to deport him I’ll never understand. He does more damage than the people who clean my office at night, or the others who pick our crops so we can eat.
Let me tell you a secret; God is not here right now, he is no longer able to share our plain of existence. He became too weak to serve as the foundation for truth and morality so he left us alone in the Universe, abandoned. Maybe it is time that we consider the possibility that God doesn't like us, he never wanted us. And in all probability, He hates us.
We must now define our own values. In days like these we need to recognize what’s truly important in our lives because when one lets go of any positive belief or need, that person will stop struggling just to feign comfort.
I abhor the apparent necessity that I must fit myself into a box and be the same as everyone else; all mediocre, and yet perfectly content in it. But by all means continue to invent your happiness with allusion to eliminating all the strife and worries in life. That tightrope you walk is on my playground and I run between the animal and superman, just try to keep your balance.
To me life has a flavor that cannot be savored without living it; pain and pleasure, suffering and bliss all have a place and I will push the last man from one to the next. To those who can’t keep up. . . I offer no apologies, but if you say something I promise I’ll slow down long enough to walk you through it.
No it doesn’t mean that I require my day to day to be an action sequence. It just means that I try to keep myself in the here and now and not dwell on the past and lose myself to fantasies of what might have been. Good and bad, every little experience we’ve had makes us who we are right now. It’s realistic. It’s pragmatic. It’s today, and I invite you to join me in it.
The Anthropology of Turquoise
Funny thing that the other day; in class I argued exceptions to the proper placement of a comma following the word “and”. That was before the Grad Student episode but I felt it a nice way to open up this subject.
“On crayon days I remember that burnt sienna and magenta pleased my mother because she loved Italy. Reluctantly, she bought us coloring books to go with our crayons. She was convinced that staying between the lines of factory-issue images only went so far before her children should think up lines of their own, on the blank white tablets she provided, and draw what stormed out of our little heads with the innocence of trickster stories. Crayon days on the ridge bring back the waxy taste of these bright sticks of paraffin and pigment. My brothers and I ate them, even when we were old enough to know better-bit off a chunk of carmine or blue-violet or cadmium yellow, choosing gem colors over pastels.”
”’Orange is like a man, convinced of his own powers,’ wrote Russian painter Vasily Kandinsky in his 1912 meditation, On the Spiritual in Art. On crayon days I have trouble with orange for its highway-cone authority, its Cheez Whiz (sic) intrusion. I am nervous about yellow, the preferred color of mental patients who regress to infantile levels. Raw umber seems overly shadowy, dutiful verging on paranoia. As a child I never liked raw umber. One of my brothers said it was poop, but we needed it to color the underside of Daffy Duck's feet. In today's box there are still those vain pinks, hungry greens, and crayons as blue as devotion. The power of profound meaning is blue, said Kandinsky, blue is concentric motion. Of red he wrote, "Red rings inwardly with a determined and powerful intensity. It glows in itself, maturely, and does not distribute its vigor aimlessly." The red I choose is the closest in color to the eyes of a goshawk.”
”The slender crayons and the round pans of paint in the watercolor tin scatter unlikely chips of pigment on the cream-colored sandstone. The ridge bears the palette of a numb moon. The winter sun's low arc casts ebony shadows of me and the juniper tree, whose shaggy silver bark holds up a rough-needled canopy of brassy green. I place a scarlet crayon on a patch of aquamarine lichen on the slickrock” (5).
Meloy, Ellen. The Anthropology of Turquoise. New York: Vintage, 2002.
I’ve had this damned passage stuck in my head for too long now. The above quote is one of the few portions of the aforementioned book I enjoyed. In the first chapter Meloy captures well the exquisite beauty of the desert. I was curious about the specifics so today I opened the critical essay I wrote.
“As it starts out discussing the therapeutic effects of painting for her own terminal illness I found it interesting in subtle analogy. As she traverses the landscape time is frozen and she retreats into the solace of her own mind like the wandering thoughts of a wondering soul. While she appreciates the rich textures of the land it leads her thoughts to that of not only what she is looking at, but how she is looking at it. “We have the eyes refined by evolution of predation. We use a predator’s eyes to marvel at the work of Titan or the Grand Canyon bathed in the copper light of a summer sunset” (9).
“Removed from herself she relies on the memory of her dead brother and uses him as a guide. She idolizes her two living brothers as artists she aspires to be but I can’t help but wonder if the two toads frozen in time aren’t really a representation of them? They will die knowing or they will resume their journey when the thaw comes” (para. 2, 3; Snoke. April 15.). I think the frozen toads were her analogy on grief. It’s at the end of Chapter 1 as she leaves the desert.
The book starts out well enough, but crashes around Chapter 3 when she gets bitchy, “[. . . ] and we said the mountains were getting crowded” (68). She complains incessantly, though indirectly about everywhere she goes she finds recreational tourist, and yet she is a self described “seasonal gypsy”? Early on when visiting the home of her Aunt she speaks critically of the people of California saying they would be unable to survive without the comfort of their air-conditioned SUV’s yet no less than three times in the same book she writes of taking refuge in the air conditioned cab of her truck? Later she discusses the European exploitation of the Americas; something she reflects upon while vacationing in the Bahamas.
I remember sitting in class watching each take turns figuratively sucking the professor’s dick as this is his favorite book. It seemed they all pulled this translation that the world is a picture of beauty to be preserved (which so happens to be very similar to what is written on the back cover). I got from it, “no matter where she goes, she has her self proclaimed right to be there and those she encounters are little more than carpetbaggers.” (para. 2; Snoke. April 22.). I hated it and of course and rather candidly explained why it was that I felt Meloy is either a hypocrite or her editor should have been fired for not realizing her contradictions. The professor’s response of course was that this book was a Pulitzer Prize Finalist. My translation: not a winner, a finalist.
Meloy was indeed a pioneer for her efforts on creative non-fiction; she died at 58 years of age on November 4, 2004 in Bluff, Utah. She was from Utah and taught at several of the western universities. On discussing her with another professor I was told, “Creative non-fiction is for journalist and people without talent. You shouldn’t be made to waste your time.” A point on which I do not exactly agree.
So I invite you to read or at least for one particular individual to re-read this book so the next time you ask what wasn’t to like about it, you know.
Maybe I need a Crayon Day?
P.S. Examples of the exception to comma placement can be found in paragraph’s two, three and eight.
“On crayon days I remember that burnt sienna and magenta pleased my mother because she loved Italy. Reluctantly, she bought us coloring books to go with our crayons. She was convinced that staying between the lines of factory-issue images only went so far before her children should think up lines of their own, on the blank white tablets she provided, and draw what stormed out of our little heads with the innocence of trickster stories. Crayon days on the ridge bring back the waxy taste of these bright sticks of paraffin and pigment. My brothers and I ate them, even when we were old enough to know better-bit off a chunk of carmine or blue-violet or cadmium yellow, choosing gem colors over pastels.”
”’Orange is like a man, convinced of his own powers,’ wrote Russian painter Vasily Kandinsky in his 1912 meditation, On the Spiritual in Art. On crayon days I have trouble with orange for its highway-cone authority, its Cheez Whiz (sic) intrusion. I am nervous about yellow, the preferred color of mental patients who regress to infantile levels. Raw umber seems overly shadowy, dutiful verging on paranoia. As a child I never liked raw umber. One of my brothers said it was poop, but we needed it to color the underside of Daffy Duck's feet. In today's box there are still those vain pinks, hungry greens, and crayons as blue as devotion. The power of profound meaning is blue, said Kandinsky, blue is concentric motion. Of red he wrote, "Red rings inwardly with a determined and powerful intensity. It glows in itself, maturely, and does not distribute its vigor aimlessly." The red I choose is the closest in color to the eyes of a goshawk.”
”The slender crayons and the round pans of paint in the watercolor tin scatter unlikely chips of pigment on the cream-colored sandstone. The ridge bears the palette of a numb moon. The winter sun's low arc casts ebony shadows of me and the juniper tree, whose shaggy silver bark holds up a rough-needled canopy of brassy green. I place a scarlet crayon on a patch of aquamarine lichen on the slickrock” (5).
Meloy, Ellen. The Anthropology of Turquoise. New York: Vintage, 2002.
I’ve had this damned passage stuck in my head for too long now. The above quote is one of the few portions of the aforementioned book I enjoyed. In the first chapter Meloy captures well the exquisite beauty of the desert. I was curious about the specifics so today I opened the critical essay I wrote.
“As it starts out discussing the therapeutic effects of painting for her own terminal illness I found it interesting in subtle analogy. As she traverses the landscape time is frozen and she retreats into the solace of her own mind like the wandering thoughts of a wondering soul. While she appreciates the rich textures of the land it leads her thoughts to that of not only what she is looking at, but how she is looking at it. “We have the eyes refined by evolution of predation. We use a predator’s eyes to marvel at the work of Titan or the Grand Canyon bathed in the copper light of a summer sunset” (9).
“Removed from herself she relies on the memory of her dead brother and uses him as a guide. She idolizes her two living brothers as artists she aspires to be but I can’t help but wonder if the two toads frozen in time aren’t really a representation of them? They will die knowing or they will resume their journey when the thaw comes” (para. 2, 3; Snoke. April 15.). I think the frozen toads were her analogy on grief. It’s at the end of Chapter 1 as she leaves the desert.
The book starts out well enough, but crashes around Chapter 3 when she gets bitchy, “[. . . ] and we said the mountains were getting crowded” (68). She complains incessantly, though indirectly about everywhere she goes she finds recreational tourist, and yet she is a self described “seasonal gypsy”? Early on when visiting the home of her Aunt she speaks critically of the people of California saying they would be unable to survive without the comfort of their air-conditioned SUV’s yet no less than three times in the same book she writes of taking refuge in the air conditioned cab of her truck? Later she discusses the European exploitation of the Americas; something she reflects upon while vacationing in the Bahamas.
I remember sitting in class watching each take turns figuratively sucking the professor’s dick as this is his favorite book. It seemed they all pulled this translation that the world is a picture of beauty to be preserved (which so happens to be very similar to what is written on the back cover). I got from it, “no matter where she goes, she has her self proclaimed right to be there and those she encounters are little more than carpetbaggers.” (para. 2; Snoke. April 22.). I hated it and of course and rather candidly explained why it was that I felt Meloy is either a hypocrite or her editor should have been fired for not realizing her contradictions. The professor’s response of course was that this book was a Pulitzer Prize Finalist. My translation: not a winner, a finalist.
Meloy was indeed a pioneer for her efforts on creative non-fiction; she died at 58 years of age on November 4, 2004 in Bluff, Utah. She was from Utah and taught at several of the western universities. On discussing her with another professor I was told, “Creative non-fiction is for journalist and people without talent. You shouldn’t be made to waste your time.” A point on which I do not exactly agree.
So I invite you to read or at least for one particular individual to re-read this book so the next time you ask what wasn’t to like about it, you know.
Maybe I need a Crayon Day?
P.S. Examples of the exception to comma placement can be found in paragraph’s two, three and eight.
St. Hubert
If you've noticed the date provided on the last three postings you might be asking what that's all about. In going through my hard drive and clearing unused files, I realized I have a small cache of blogs which was never posted. Mostly because they remained unfinished; some because they were incomplete thoughts I had never bothered to research further, others because the content was just a bit too far to the left.
Either way something interesting was brought to my attention the other day in my Syntax and Phonology for ESL Teachers class. Another student mentioned to me The Apostle of the Ardennes; Saint Hubert.
Saint Hubert was born in 656 to Bertrand, Duke of Aquitaine, son of Charibert, King of Toulouse in Maastricht, Holland where he married and was an avid hunter. On one particular hunting trip he had a vision of a crucifix between the antlers of a stag he was hunting and was told, "Hubert, unless you turn to the Lord, and lead a holy life, you shall quickly go down to hell." It is officially stated as his conversion experience. Historically though it wasn't until the death of his wife soon after that he threw himself headlong into the Catholic Church. He renounced all of his worldly possessions, handed the care of his son off to his brother and studied religion under and later became assistant to the Bishop of Maastricht who was later canonized as St. Lambert until the time Lambert was murdered in 701. Hubert had the body of his mentor moved to Liege and a church was erected on the site of his martyrdom in his honor.
Hubert came to be known for his service to his congregation. Throughout history the Catholic Church has paid their clergy well and Hubert lived in abject poverty for his generosity to the poor. For this I am certain it was easier for him to accomplish his other feats. He is known to have been responsible for the evangelization of the Ardenne region and converting the Pagans. Rather than relying on the Catholic habit of forced conversions, he reasoned with them to the point that the converts were allowed the choice to destroy their old idols; of course they did. St. Hubert died before his congregation while reciting "Our Father" in 727. His relics are interred at St. Hubert's Abbey in Liege, Belgium. It is said he predicted the day of his own death.
For both his patronage and the noble birthright he had rejected, military honors were named for him in a few European countries whose governments have since died out as late as the 18th century. 15th century Bavaria had the Order of Saint Hubert (Orden des hl. Hubertus) to commemorate a victory enjoyed on November 3, St. Hubert's Day. In honor of this award recipients were required to give 10% of their earnings to the poor and to make an annual lump sum contribution. They wore a gold collar with their armor inscribed with depictions of the conversion of St. Hubert. The collar was an outward sign of their obedience and altruism. Pre-revolutionary France also held their own Order of Saint Hubert which was given to knights for similar reasons, but more for their obedience. They were not required to help the poor. The Prussian's also had their own order; its purposes aren't immediately clear to me at the moment.
His association with hunting and the land around him led to his patronage which is notably broad. He is Patron Saint to hunters, trappers and their dogs. Notably specific to bad behavior and rabies in hunting dogs and just dogs in general. He is also Saint to metal workers and mathematicians. For those reasons he was also a popular Saint among early Canadians; today they commemorate him with a beer named for him.
Either way something interesting was brought to my attention the other day in my Syntax and Phonology for ESL Teachers class. Another student mentioned to me The Apostle of the Ardennes; Saint Hubert.
Saint Hubert was born in 656 to Bertrand, Duke of Aquitaine, son of Charibert, King of Toulouse in Maastricht, Holland where he married and was an avid hunter. On one particular hunting trip he had a vision of a crucifix between the antlers of a stag he was hunting and was told, "Hubert, unless you turn to the Lord, and lead a holy life, you shall quickly go down to hell." It is officially stated as his conversion experience. Historically though it wasn't until the death of his wife soon after that he threw himself headlong into the Catholic Church. He renounced all of his worldly possessions, handed the care of his son off to his brother and studied religion under and later became assistant to the Bishop of Maastricht who was later canonized as St. Lambert until the time Lambert was murdered in 701. Hubert had the body of his mentor moved to Liege and a church was erected on the site of his martyrdom in his honor.
Hubert came to be known for his service to his congregation. Throughout history the Catholic Church has paid their clergy well and Hubert lived in abject poverty for his generosity to the poor. For this I am certain it was easier for him to accomplish his other feats. He is known to have been responsible for the evangelization of the Ardenne region and converting the Pagans. Rather than relying on the Catholic habit of forced conversions, he reasoned with them to the point that the converts were allowed the choice to destroy their old idols; of course they did. St. Hubert died before his congregation while reciting "Our Father" in 727. His relics are interred at St. Hubert's Abbey in Liege, Belgium. It is said he predicted the day of his own death.
For both his patronage and the noble birthright he had rejected, military honors were named for him in a few European countries whose governments have since died out as late as the 18th century. 15th century Bavaria had the Order of Saint Hubert (Orden des hl. Hubertus) to commemorate a victory enjoyed on November 3, St. Hubert's Day. In honor of this award recipients were required to give 10% of their earnings to the poor and to make an annual lump sum contribution. They wore a gold collar with their armor inscribed with depictions of the conversion of St. Hubert. The collar was an outward sign of their obedience and altruism. Pre-revolutionary France also held their own Order of Saint Hubert which was given to knights for similar reasons, but more for their obedience. They were not required to help the poor. The Prussian's also had their own order; its purposes aren't immediately clear to me at the moment.
His association with hunting and the land around him led to his patronage which is notably broad. He is Patron Saint to hunters, trappers and their dogs. Notably specific to bad behavior and rabies in hunting dogs and just dogs in general. He is also Saint to metal workers and mathematicians. For those reasons he was also a popular Saint among early Canadians; today they commemorate him with a beer named for him.
Socrates and the One
I am made to think of Socrates today whom was put to death in 399 B.C.E. for the crimes of corrupting the young by way of causing them to question authority and for a form of heresy; he had his own set of beliefs which though they still honored the Olympian Gods, they were not sanctioned by the polis of Athens. In his trial Socrates compared his fate to that of Achilles.
Achilles was born the son of Peleus, King of the Myrmidons and Thetis the immortal sea nymph whom when Achilles was but a baby dipped him in the river Styx to endow upon him as many the qualities of a god a mortal could have. Where she held him was by his ankle creating the one vulnerable spot on his body, thus the term “Achilles Heel”, but I digress. Upon announcing to Thetis that he was leaving to battle in Troy, his mother prophesized that Achilles would never return, he would die in Troy. This gave Achilles a certain sense of purpose. When later betrayed by Agamemnon, Achilles refuses to fight. How could he die for a cause he no longer believed in? It wasn’t until Achilles own blood was felled that he chose to join the fight and drive the Trojans back into the city. It wasn’t until later when they entered the city that Achilles was hit by an arrow from Paris, the man who started the war.
This was the point of Socrates; he was willing to fight and if need die for what he believed. He wasn’t willing to live if he had to lie to save his life. Though not the same; smaller struggles such as those come up in my day to day. What battles are worth my fighting for and if I no longer believe in the cause is it even my fight?
How I’ve come to weigh that is interesting these days. I see in the world around me two types of people; those who ask how they may better serve the world and those who ask how the world may better serve them. Why I bother with the former is really a matter of confusion for me at times. These are the vampires who fed on the energy of others. Some are so brazen as to offer that as their power; that faux voice of authority that believes if it speaks the loudest it is the more correct. Still others are more subtle. They move in shadows and disguise their form using manipulation to curry favor of those that hold what they desire. It’s like a comment I read the other day, “We are not here to earn God’s love. We are here to spend it!”
So tell me dear reader how do you think? Do you see the world around you as a cornucopia to be feasted upon without putting something back in the basket? You cannot live on credit alone, eventually the Universe is going to want its due. It comes in the form most mistake for being Karma.
That’s the issue too. We are all connected; no matter how remotely we all share a common thread. Think of it like the game, “The six degrees of Bacon.” According to this any actor in Hollywood can be traced back to Kevin Bacon by six degrees; someone was in a movie with someone else who was in a movie with Kevin Bacon. Thus the connection. It’s theorized anyone in the world, living or dead can be connected by the same means.
Here’s my own example; I went and saw the remains of the Pharaoh Ramses when the Egyptian government allowed his tomb to be exhibited in the United States. It was in 1986 I believe. Ramses is believed to be the Pharaoh who forbade Moses from leading his Exodus; maybe you’ve heard of it? It was in a big book called the Bible or something like that. Either way this would put me two degrees from Moses, perhaps one of the most important figures in Judeo-Christian history.
I also attend Weber State University. A professor there at the school had the opportunity sometime back to meet and even shake hands with Queen Elizabeth who when but a mere princess met Adolf Hitler at a party thrown in his honor by her family. Seriously, prior to that whole Final Solution hysteria, he was widely supported by the western world. So I met this professor. I shook his hand. I am three degrees from Hitler. Having that connection between the two is kind of funny to me, a nice paradox.
Would you like a bit more? How about this one? My father worked at the Pentagon at the time it was hit by American Airlines flight 77. When he worked there he met with Donald Rumsfeld. Of course Donald Rumsfeld has acted in some capacity to every President since Carter and there is even video of him shaking hands with Saddam Hussein. I think you get the point.
So don’t just look at the rabbit hole; jump in already. I say this to illustrate a point; whether you like it or not we are all in this together. We are all a part of the One and what more, it’s time to face it; the Universe has you surrounded, and you might as well surrender. Now come out with your hands up; look to the sky and say, “Thank You.” This day was made for you.
Achilles was born the son of Peleus, King of the Myrmidons and Thetis the immortal sea nymph whom when Achilles was but a baby dipped him in the river Styx to endow upon him as many the qualities of a god a mortal could have. Where she held him was by his ankle creating the one vulnerable spot on his body, thus the term “Achilles Heel”, but I digress. Upon announcing to Thetis that he was leaving to battle in Troy, his mother prophesized that Achilles would never return, he would die in Troy. This gave Achilles a certain sense of purpose. When later betrayed by Agamemnon, Achilles refuses to fight. How could he die for a cause he no longer believed in? It wasn’t until Achilles own blood was felled that he chose to join the fight and drive the Trojans back into the city. It wasn’t until later when they entered the city that Achilles was hit by an arrow from Paris, the man who started the war.
This was the point of Socrates; he was willing to fight and if need die for what he believed. He wasn’t willing to live if he had to lie to save his life. Though not the same; smaller struggles such as those come up in my day to day. What battles are worth my fighting for and if I no longer believe in the cause is it even my fight?
How I’ve come to weigh that is interesting these days. I see in the world around me two types of people; those who ask how they may better serve the world and those who ask how the world may better serve them. Why I bother with the former is really a matter of confusion for me at times. These are the vampires who fed on the energy of others. Some are so brazen as to offer that as their power; that faux voice of authority that believes if it speaks the loudest it is the more correct. Still others are more subtle. They move in shadows and disguise their form using manipulation to curry favor of those that hold what they desire. It’s like a comment I read the other day, “We are not here to earn God’s love. We are here to spend it!”
So tell me dear reader how do you think? Do you see the world around you as a cornucopia to be feasted upon without putting something back in the basket? You cannot live on credit alone, eventually the Universe is going to want its due. It comes in the form most mistake for being Karma.
That’s the issue too. We are all connected; no matter how remotely we all share a common thread. Think of it like the game, “The six degrees of Bacon.” According to this any actor in Hollywood can be traced back to Kevin Bacon by six degrees; someone was in a movie with someone else who was in a movie with Kevin Bacon. Thus the connection. It’s theorized anyone in the world, living or dead can be connected by the same means.
Here’s my own example; I went and saw the remains of the Pharaoh Ramses when the Egyptian government allowed his tomb to be exhibited in the United States. It was in 1986 I believe. Ramses is believed to be the Pharaoh who forbade Moses from leading his Exodus; maybe you’ve heard of it? It was in a big book called the Bible or something like that. Either way this would put me two degrees from Moses, perhaps one of the most important figures in Judeo-Christian history.
I also attend Weber State University. A professor there at the school had the opportunity sometime back to meet and even shake hands with Queen Elizabeth who when but a mere princess met Adolf Hitler at a party thrown in his honor by her family. Seriously, prior to that whole Final Solution hysteria, he was widely supported by the western world. So I met this professor. I shook his hand. I am three degrees from Hitler. Having that connection between the two is kind of funny to me, a nice paradox.
Would you like a bit more? How about this one? My father worked at the Pentagon at the time it was hit by American Airlines flight 77. When he worked there he met with Donald Rumsfeld. Of course Donald Rumsfeld has acted in some capacity to every President since Carter and there is even video of him shaking hands with Saddam Hussein. I think you get the point.
So don’t just look at the rabbit hole; jump in already. I say this to illustrate a point; whether you like it or not we are all in this together. We are all a part of the One and what more, it’s time to face it; the Universe has you surrounded, and you might as well surrender. Now come out with your hands up; look to the sky and say, “Thank You.” This day was made for you.
Orgy of Violence
When is it okay to stop hating? I mean when is it really okay?
Just when I think I have found that point, something small in someone reminds me that there is a reason for them being where they are in my life and why I put them there. As much as I’d like to let go and move on as an individual, they seem to want to prevent that.
I know this might sound like my disowning responsibility, which in a way it feels like I am. But when you find yourself physically tied to a person even after the emotional ties are gone, you come to see them for as they truly were.
I loathe such feelings.
It’s sickening what emotions do too us. Emotions are probably the greatest motivator in us all though. They can be good; they can drive us too succeed and make you be the best you you’ve ever wanted to be. On the other side they can be bad; they can take us too war and kill one another in the name of something that isn’t really there.
Emotions are supposed to be what separates us from the animals. I’ve been told time and again that animals don’t experience emotion, just conditioned response. Isn’t that what an emotion is. . . a conditioned response? We are little different than the pets we keep and they can be acutely aware of the way we feel. Maybe it can be better said that we are no better than the animals with which we share this world. In some ways it could be argued that animals have emotions under better control than we as humans do.
In other ways it could be argued that they don’t. Animals have a habit of killing for necessity; we have a habit of doing it for fun and profit. This was all true until in the 1980’s when Jane Goodall witnessed what came to be known as “The Chimp Wars.”
In Africa there is a lake. On that lake is and island. On that island existed a small group of chimpanzees. There they lived and cohabitated for who knows how long. How they got there was anyone’s guess. Dr. Goodall observed this group at a time that its size was exceeding the islands ability to support them.
Subsequently the group split; by what manner of diplomacy this was decision was made is anyone’s guess. If I recall, what were perceived as the less dominant males were expelled and made to fend for themselves. The two groups became violent with solidarity going to their own faction. Roving patrols came about that sought out, stalked and killed members of the other group. Eventually this came to a head in what Dr. Goodall described as an “orgy of violence” and the expelled faction took the females as their own.
Yes “Orgy of Violence” sounds like a good name for a fun party, but stay with me here. . . pervert.
I don’t know why I brought that up other than it’s interesting to see that animals can be reduced to our level. I was thinking that it would be nice to go live among the Yanomamo Tribe in Venezuela; one of the last surviving rain forest tribes.
In 1971 Napoleon Chagnon with Timothy Asch went to observe this tribe in the village of Mishimishimabowei-teri. There they witnessed something similar to what Goodall had seen. Their documentary is called “The Axe Fight.”
Chagnon and Asch knew none of the native language, they only had their 8 mm camera so they observed and recorded what happened. Shortly after they arrived was a surprise to say the least. At first there was much confusion as to who did what or what had happened when it started. Chagnon and Asch assumed it was to do with incest. It took them weeks to find out what caused the events they saw.
A former tribesman who had been expelled came begging for food from a women who had been in the garden gathering plantains. Because he had been expelled for not doing his part to contribute to the tribe, she refused. He attacked her and into the village she came running; bloody and beaten, screaming for help.
It came to a matter of kinship; families went to war with each other. Fights erupted, crude axes were drawn and people died. It’s like the Chaos Theory explaining the creation of the Universe; random events come together and something comes of it. Who knew that in exiling Mohesiwa (the attacker), that much blood would be shed.
Some exist because humans subvert natural selection.
What you did yesterday affects me today. What I do today will affect you tomorrow. How about you and I make this a positive experience?
Just when I think I have found that point, something small in someone reminds me that there is a reason for them being where they are in my life and why I put them there. As much as I’d like to let go and move on as an individual, they seem to want to prevent that.
I know this might sound like my disowning responsibility, which in a way it feels like I am. But when you find yourself physically tied to a person even after the emotional ties are gone, you come to see them for as they truly were.
I loathe such feelings.
It’s sickening what emotions do too us. Emotions are probably the greatest motivator in us all though. They can be good; they can drive us too succeed and make you be the best you you’ve ever wanted to be. On the other side they can be bad; they can take us too war and kill one another in the name of something that isn’t really there.
Emotions are supposed to be what separates us from the animals. I’ve been told time and again that animals don’t experience emotion, just conditioned response. Isn’t that what an emotion is. . . a conditioned response? We are little different than the pets we keep and they can be acutely aware of the way we feel. Maybe it can be better said that we are no better than the animals with which we share this world. In some ways it could be argued that animals have emotions under better control than we as humans do.
In other ways it could be argued that they don’t. Animals have a habit of killing for necessity; we have a habit of doing it for fun and profit. This was all true until in the 1980’s when Jane Goodall witnessed what came to be known as “The Chimp Wars.”
In Africa there is a lake. On that lake is and island. On that island existed a small group of chimpanzees. There they lived and cohabitated for who knows how long. How they got there was anyone’s guess. Dr. Goodall observed this group at a time that its size was exceeding the islands ability to support them.
Subsequently the group split; by what manner of diplomacy this was decision was made is anyone’s guess. If I recall, what were perceived as the less dominant males were expelled and made to fend for themselves. The two groups became violent with solidarity going to their own faction. Roving patrols came about that sought out, stalked and killed members of the other group. Eventually this came to a head in what Dr. Goodall described as an “orgy of violence” and the expelled faction took the females as their own.
Yes “Orgy of Violence” sounds like a good name for a fun party, but stay with me here. . . pervert.
I don’t know why I brought that up other than it’s interesting to see that animals can be reduced to our level. I was thinking that it would be nice to go live among the Yanomamo Tribe in Venezuela; one of the last surviving rain forest tribes.
In 1971 Napoleon Chagnon with Timothy Asch went to observe this tribe in the village of Mishimishimabowei-teri. There they witnessed something similar to what Goodall had seen. Their documentary is called “The Axe Fight.”
Chagnon and Asch knew none of the native language, they only had their 8 mm camera so they observed and recorded what happened. Shortly after they arrived was a surprise to say the least. At first there was much confusion as to who did what or what had happened when it started. Chagnon and Asch assumed it was to do with incest. It took them weeks to find out what caused the events they saw.
A former tribesman who had been expelled came begging for food from a women who had been in the garden gathering plantains. Because he had been expelled for not doing his part to contribute to the tribe, she refused. He attacked her and into the village she came running; bloody and beaten, screaming for help.
It came to a matter of kinship; families went to war with each other. Fights erupted, crude axes were drawn and people died. It’s like the Chaos Theory explaining the creation of the Universe; random events come together and something comes of it. Who knew that in exiling Mohesiwa (the attacker), that much blood would be shed.
Some exist because humans subvert natural selection.
What you did yesterday affects me today. What I do today will affect you tomorrow. How about you and I make this a positive experience?
Invisible Hands
“Am I a man dreaming I am a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming I am a man?” – Chang Tsu
Right now I identify this thought in a different light; how much control over my reality do I have at this particular moment? Am I living the dream or is that dream living me? I feel an abundance of self. An abundance of those in my life and an abundance of what the Universe has to offer. I feel guided through life almost to the point that the Universe is testing my limit of how much is too much?
In his book, “Wealth of Nations” Adam Smith discusses the theory of the Invisible Hand which summarily states that if each consumer is allowed to choose freely what to buy and each producer is allowed to choose freely what to sell and how to produce it, the market will settle on a product distribution and prices that are beneficial to the entire community. The reason for this is that greed will drive actors to beneficial behavior.
This theory as discussed by William Godwin extends it even further to the idea that the Invisible Hand also extends into the lives of the individual; depending on our individual needs we gravitate to a position which is beneficial to ourselves and those we are responsible to. The hand is the nudge of natural order which Godwin firmly believed in.
William Godwin is considered among of the first of the Utilitarianism and Miniarchism movements. Utilitarianism is the foundation for his thought on natural order. Miniarchism was his thought on large governments which make natural order impossible. For this, he was considered an Anarchist and to a degree he was. He knew that once stripped of structure we would find our natural order and destiny would manifest itself. He also understood though that what manifests may not always be positive, “Above all we should not forget, that government is an evil, an usurpation upon the private judgment and individual conscience of mankind; and that, however we may be obliged to admit it as a necessary evil for the present. . . ”
An interesting fact about Godwin; did you know he is Mary Shelly’s father? Of course I assume you know she wrote “Frankenstein”. In fact a good manifestation of that above quote can be seen in the behavior of Victor Frankenstein; when left to our own devices we can create magnificent monsters of enduring savagery. It can also be seen in the actions of the monster; when in a position of power it is on us to guide others without expectation of acknowledgment. It is our responsibility to be the Invisible Hand. If you recall in those moments when the monster wasn’t exacting his revenge, he was helping the people of a neighboring village. They didn’t know it was him though; he was their invisible hand. His was also the invisible hand that guided Victor to his destiny.
Right now I identify this thought in a different light; how much control over my reality do I have at this particular moment? Am I living the dream or is that dream living me? I feel an abundance of self. An abundance of those in my life and an abundance of what the Universe has to offer. I feel guided through life almost to the point that the Universe is testing my limit of how much is too much?
In his book, “Wealth of Nations” Adam Smith discusses the theory of the Invisible Hand which summarily states that if each consumer is allowed to choose freely what to buy and each producer is allowed to choose freely what to sell and how to produce it, the market will settle on a product distribution and prices that are beneficial to the entire community. The reason for this is that greed will drive actors to beneficial behavior.
This theory as discussed by William Godwin extends it even further to the idea that the Invisible Hand also extends into the lives of the individual; depending on our individual needs we gravitate to a position which is beneficial to ourselves and those we are responsible to. The hand is the nudge of natural order which Godwin firmly believed in.
William Godwin is considered among of the first of the Utilitarianism and Miniarchism movements. Utilitarianism is the foundation for his thought on natural order. Miniarchism was his thought on large governments which make natural order impossible. For this, he was considered an Anarchist and to a degree he was. He knew that once stripped of structure we would find our natural order and destiny would manifest itself. He also understood though that what manifests may not always be positive, “Above all we should not forget, that government is an evil, an usurpation upon the private judgment and individual conscience of mankind; and that, however we may be obliged to admit it as a necessary evil for the present. . . ”
An interesting fact about Godwin; did you know he is Mary Shelly’s father? Of course I assume you know she wrote “Frankenstein”. In fact a good manifestation of that above quote can be seen in the behavior of Victor Frankenstein; when left to our own devices we can create magnificent monsters of enduring savagery. It can also be seen in the actions of the monster; when in a position of power it is on us to guide others without expectation of acknowledgment. It is our responsibility to be the Invisible Hand. If you recall in those moments when the monster wasn’t exacting his revenge, he was helping the people of a neighboring village. They didn’t know it was him though; he was their invisible hand. His was also the invisible hand that guided Victor to his destiny.
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