This post is actually from Sept. 2, 2009, but was posted on a different site that I am in the process of closing down. I reposted it here for my own amusement.
I remember when I was young and idealistic – as opposed to my older idealistic self – and the occasional reminders I’d suffer in regards to my value of self expression. Usually that would come in my seeing the world change for other people. On that end I would watch as older generations bemoaned the loss of familiar comforts like vinyl records, 8-track tapes, and oversized cars. The future was not what they’d expected and they’d failed in seeing that new frontiers were coming to them, not them standing at the precipice. Granted, I never thought myself one to hang onto the past; I remember my grandfather’s cantankerous opposition to change and how I would sometimes stare with slack-jawed awe at the shear level of commentary he would offer. Statements that always began with, “When I was your age,” and end with some commentary on the moral turpitude of contemporary society.
This isn’t a soapbox and it’s not yet my turn to ask where the flying cars are; I just think that commercial is funny in that it’s Avery Brooks asking the question. As far as culture goes though – in a sardonic way – I almost can’t help but wonder what happened. Was I sleeping? I must have been as almost overnight Christian groups are now embracing the once damned Harry Potter as the metaphor of Christ and just as suddenly I see people wantonly emulating that movie’s characters in public. Beit the lanky guy with glasses I saw the other day zipping around the office waving his pencil like a wand and yelling, “Expelliarmus!” or the Hot Topic brand Goths I saw at the Project Pitchfork show the other night. In fact I overheard Severus Snape and Lucious Malfoy lost in conversation about how C.C. DeVille was the Keith Richards of our generation. The situational irony was amazing! There must have been a big sale on those costumes somewhere. Being an individual is great, especially when you look like every other individual.
So what did happen? There was once a time that if you wanted to be punk or industrial you had to actually work at it. It wasn’t a kit you could just buy at Hot Topic-mart. If you wanted a look, you had to work for it; there were military surplus and second hand stores to visit, clothes to be dyed, etc. Of course technology did make the world smaller, but movies and the internet are hardly to blame for the commercialization of a subcultural phenomenon.
Much of what happened has less to do with feelings of disaffection from society and more to do with what people are willing to spend their money on. The world of marketing is acutely aware that any niche can be exploited and familiar holdings can be adapted. Beyond the Harry Potter examples, examine these two recent events which transcend generational boundaries: Disney Studios purchased Marvel comics, and the PBS staple of 26 years, Reading Rainbow ran its last episode on August 28, 2009.
My daughter looked at me like I slapped her in the face when I told her about the passing of Reading Rainbow, and truthfully I’m not sure what to think of the Disney deal. Will Cyclops now tease Wolverine not to throw him in the briar patch? Or for that matter; what about any of the near S&M clad figures whom were once the Marvel staple; will they be made to clean up their act? Guess we’ll have to continue watching the show.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Sophocles, Freud, and everything in between.
This post is actually from Feb. 23, 2009, but was posted on a different site that I am in the process of closing down. I reposted it here for my own amusement.
Yeah we’ve all been played with, or teased online and it’s somehow amusing to me when I see it reflected in another’s profile. Profiles are interesting to me. It’s interesting when I see someone set out a laundry list of what they’ll have and what they won’t. It’s like the fairy tale expectation that someone tall, dark, and handsome is going to kick down their door and whisk them away to some promised land of devotion and carnal pleasures. Thing is that in revealing yourself to so much of what you want, you leave yourself exposed to what you don’t.
Think of it like the epic trilogy of Oedipus the King by Sophocles. The story in itself is very good, though by way of Freud it’s been given a perverse tone not worth exploring. For many reasons I wonder if Freud even ever read the story because a grown man sexing his mother is not what the story was about. What it is about is that in our attempting to avoid fate, we end up neck deep in it. I’ll paraphrase the story so forgive me for what I omit.
Oedipus was born the son of a king who ordered the infant Oedipus be executed after it was prophesized that Oedipus would later kill him and marry the queen. Of course the people given the job fail and passed the task until the infant ended up in the care of a neighboring monarchy who raised Oedipus as their own. As the child grew, young Oedipus came to suspect his being adopted and sought his own prophecy.
As the story goes, the prophet, Tiresias repeats the earlier prophecy, yet makes no mention of his dad’s identity. Oedipus was a bit more about the content of this new information than what he’d been asking to begin with, and in his denial and attempt to distance himself, runs away to a neighboring kingdom whereupon he is nearly run down by a chariot when crossing a road. Words are exchanged and Oedipus beats the driver to death. Later in town he hears word that the king has been murdered and he decides to fess up to his deed. On entering the king’s court though he is quite taken by the queen’s beauty and decides to play it out, and later hooks up with her.
Things are going great for Oedipus: he avoided killing his dad; he got away with murder; he’s got a hot wife; and his own kingdom. Then he starts hearing rumors about this child the king had sent away and is at first concerned that the kid may return to claim his birthright. Long story made short: through a series of revelations, Oedipus finds that he is in fact that child and in his unwillingness to confront issues, he has fulfilled both prophecies. Quite well too, I think he even got a few kids from it. In his literal horror, Oedipus gouges out his own eyes and leaves to wander the land so he may never have to again look upon the results of his deeds.
Now like I said, in your aversion, you may well end up neck deep in what you’re actively seeking to avoid, and with that I offer the following advice: confront your demons. What’s the source of you aversion and does it justify that all X equals Y? Or for that matter that all exes equal XX or XY? I think we’d all do better not to justify the acts of one as being indicative of the whole, and consider that in this world, there are some people who are just that messed up.
Certainly I’ve had a few exes who have made me want to shut the door and label their kind another species, or as pop-psych guru John Gray labeled them, as being from another planet. Really all it has done though, and all it should ever do, is make me examine what it was I was seeking to begin with.
Think of it like the epic trilogy of Oedipus the King by Sophocles. The story in itself is very good, though by way of Freud it’s been given a perverse tone not worth exploring. For many reasons I wonder if Freud even ever read the story because a grown man sexing his mother is not what the story was about. What it is about is that in our attempting to avoid fate, we end up neck deep in it. I’ll paraphrase the story so forgive me for what I omit.
Oedipus was born the son of a king who ordered the infant Oedipus be executed after it was prophesized that Oedipus would later kill him and marry the queen. Of course the people given the job fail and passed the task until the infant ended up in the care of a neighboring monarchy who raised Oedipus as their own. As the child grew, young Oedipus came to suspect his being adopted and sought his own prophecy.
As the story goes, the prophet, Tiresias repeats the earlier prophecy, yet makes no mention of his dad’s identity. Oedipus was a bit more about the content of this new information than what he’d been asking to begin with, and in his denial and attempt to distance himself, runs away to a neighboring kingdom whereupon he is nearly run down by a chariot when crossing a road. Words are exchanged and Oedipus beats the driver to death. Later in town he hears word that the king has been murdered and he decides to fess up to his deed. On entering the king’s court though he is quite taken by the queen’s beauty and decides to play it out, and later hooks up with her.
Things are going great for Oedipus: he avoided killing his dad; he got away with murder; he’s got a hot wife; and his own kingdom. Then he starts hearing rumors about this child the king had sent away and is at first concerned that the kid may return to claim his birthright. Long story made short: through a series of revelations, Oedipus finds that he is in fact that child and in his unwillingness to confront issues, he has fulfilled both prophecies. Quite well too, I think he even got a few kids from it. In his literal horror, Oedipus gouges out his own eyes and leaves to wander the land so he may never have to again look upon the results of his deeds.
Now like I said, in your aversion, you may well end up neck deep in what you’re actively seeking to avoid, and with that I offer the following advice: confront your demons. What’s the source of you aversion and does it justify that all X equals Y? Or for that matter that all exes equal XX or XY? I think we’d all do better not to justify the acts of one as being indicative of the whole, and consider that in this world, there are some people who are just that messed up.
Certainly I’ve had a few exes who have made me want to shut the door and label their kind another species, or as pop-psych guru John Gray labeled them, as being from another planet. Really all it has done though, and all it should ever do, is make me examine what it was I was seeking to begin with.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I remember now....
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.
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.
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.
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