Once again, it is sunrise, and a spectacular one. I am only awake because of the cat's vigilance. I've noticed a tendency to write a lot about sunrises and sunsets. When I think about why, the immediate answer is that they are edges.
Sunrise and sunset--dawn and dusk--are neither day nor night, and yet they're both. It's the edge of darkness and light. When we speak of being "on the cutting edge", it invokes images of that far-off horizon, the edge between the known and the unknown. That phrase is usually used in connection with a discipline (the cutting edge of technology, the cutting edge of fashion, etc.). But I think of that edge as the place where I'm most comfortable.
In ancient religions, the shaman is said to have a foot in both worlds. Whether that makes me a shaman or not I can't say, but I like the idea of being able to move freely between those two "countries". The "edge" is more of a mental construct than a reality--we filter out the unknown and unseen rather than acknowledge it. We are BOTH, not either/or. There is no taking sides. I have been told by colleagues, friends, and mentors in the past that I MUST choose a side. But I've never seen a need--that is someone else's need for a filter.
There is much joy in not choosing, and life is less conflicted. Some days my more "divine" impulses prevail, other days my more "demonic" ones may be more evident. It's easy to get caught up in feelings--the ecstasy of falling in love, the anger at someone who has betrayed you, the anxiety that is the result of unexpected bad news. But our reactions are just a role--it's like a giant role playing game without the 20-sided die. They are all components of our psyche, but the underlying self doesn't have anything to do with any of those feelings, just as it has nothing to do with what career we choose, or how much money we make. Emotions are tools, and like everything else, they are useful for prompting us to act out our roles.
Ethics is a difficult field, because it is impossible to make absolute statements about right and wrong in the broadest sense. We have certain metrics that we give ourselves--for instance, the Holocaust is a measure of something horribly evil and wrong that probably the majority of humankind can agree on. However, most "moral" decisions that we make on a daily basis are not on the scale of Holocausts. Still, they could be major events in our own lives, and knowing the "right" thing to do isn't always clear. In fact, in most cases, there are complicating factors. It is better not to be wedded too much to black-and-white thinking about right and wrong, or else every decision becomes an oppressive challenge. There's no openness to going with your higher instincts, because your superego has imposed a strict narrative on the subject. It's bad enough when the individual suffers, but when we try to impose those narratives on others, then we risk doing serious damage. Frequently we are on the edge, and you shouldn't push someone to one side or another--where they turn has to depend on their own circumstances.
All dualities are edges--night and day, male and female, good and bad, right and wrong. The reality of the psyche is that we are all of these things. It is rare that we stand so strictly on the edge--often we are some mixture, with one aspect being more noticeable or dominant than the other. If we identify too much with the dominant trait, then we are often surprised and confused when the opposite traits present themselves. "Surely this is not me." If the opposite trait does not fit in with social or religious norms, we might be labeled "abnormal", or, at an extreme, "possessed". It's as though something not part of you has taken hold of you. But it almost never an outside influence--it is the "you" that you and others have chosen not to see.
Jung's psychology is based on what he calls "individuation". This is the integrating of these opposites in our psyches. It's a merging of the opposites rather than the rejection of one over the other. We think perfection comes from cultivating our "good" traits and trying to exorcise ourselves of our "evil" traits. There is no faster way to give your "evil" traits control of you than to repress them. That's worse, because you believe you are doing good, but in fact all you are doing is alienating and/or hurting others.
A last thought--I received a comment on an older post that made me think of the notion of the sublime. Often, the terrifying is actually our salvation. For instance--if you think of certain Hindu and Buddhist deities that are terrifying aspects of the Ultimate (the Goddess Kali comes to mind), you find that they are actually the deities that will provide you with clarity, and then with peace and stillness. You do risk being torn apart, but it is for a greater, more beneficent cause. The step into the unknown is always dangerous, but it is a step that you need to take if you want to have a life. Living safe is not living.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Holes
One of the effects of a brutal winter is the creation of potholes. Lots of them. Driving to work, or anywhere, has become more like running through an obstacle course. Some of them are deep; I’ve barely missed a few that looked like they could swallow up at least half of my car. The worst ones are on the highways and on the side roads of affluent neighborhoods. Or, maybe it’s just that I drive through a lot of affluent neighborhoods on my way to work. In any case, they’ve never been holier.
A ring of black holes has been discovered in the constellation Cetus. If my understanding is correct, the black holes are forming because of a collision of two galaxies. Matter eats itself. Black holes are like life in that sense, I think. Life is all about eating itself. The Kirtimukha and the Ouroboros.
Too much thinking makes loopholes. Alan Watts once spoke of the reluctance of the ancient Chinese to let the people read the laws. They argued that they would read the words without understanding all of the factors involved. In order for laws to be just, they need to be executed with equanimity. But, if one reads the words too literally, they find exceptions, omissions—loopholes. Loopholes can be useful when you’re dealing with a strict or unjust law. But often they are used to get around laws that are merely inconvenient, though necessary.
Loopholes aren’t limited to the law. Our reasoning is full of holes, especially when it comes to self-discipline. It is easier to come up with an excuse than it is to do the inconvenient thing. It is only when we are inconvenienced by our attempts to avoid inconvenience that we resolve to take up the discipline again.
So—are exceptions and excuses holy? There is “hole”, and there is “whole”. There is “holy”, and there is “wholly”. Some would argue overlap between those terms. So, it is ironic that the word “hole”, while not the same term (e.g., holy is not an adverb meaning full of holes), doesn’t refer to “wholeness” at all.
It does, however, refer to emptiness. I would argue that this is the same thing on some level. God, after all, is “No-thing”. Silence, like anything, is neutral--it's an omission of any sound. What we do with that omission is another matter.
A ring of black holes has been discovered in the constellation Cetus. If my understanding is correct, the black holes are forming because of a collision of two galaxies. Matter eats itself. Black holes are like life in that sense, I think. Life is all about eating itself. The Kirtimukha and the Ouroboros.
Too much thinking makes loopholes. Alan Watts once spoke of the reluctance of the ancient Chinese to let the people read the laws. They argued that they would read the words without understanding all of the factors involved. In order for laws to be just, they need to be executed with equanimity. But, if one reads the words too literally, they find exceptions, omissions—loopholes. Loopholes can be useful when you’re dealing with a strict or unjust law. But often they are used to get around laws that are merely inconvenient, though necessary.
Loopholes aren’t limited to the law. Our reasoning is full of holes, especially when it comes to self-discipline. It is easier to come up with an excuse than it is to do the inconvenient thing. It is only when we are inconvenienced by our attempts to avoid inconvenience that we resolve to take up the discipline again.
So—are exceptions and excuses holy? There is “hole”, and there is “whole”. There is “holy”, and there is “wholly”. Some would argue overlap between those terms. So, it is ironic that the word “hole”, while not the same term (e.g., holy is not an adverb meaning full of holes), doesn’t refer to “wholeness” at all.
It does, however, refer to emptiness. I would argue that this is the same thing on some level. God, after all, is “No-thing”. Silence, like anything, is neutral--it's an omission of any sound. What we do with that omission is another matter.
Monday, February 07, 2011
Deserving
A couple of words on "worthiness".
First--I saw this blog posting today. It's from the woman who defended her young son's right to dress up as Daphne from Scooby-Doo for Halloween, when other parents told her it was "inappropriate" (read as: promoting "gay" behavior). Apparently her Church pastor has joined in the bullying, and told her she was "in violation of Matthew 18 and the 8th commandment", claiming she lied about the other mothers who judged her son. He also threatened her with ex-communication if she didn't issue a public apology.
Second--I had a conversation with my hairdresser on Friday that is similar to the conversation I've had with others over the years. He has had his own spiritual experiences, which he defines as "pure grace"--and then wonders why he had them. Why wonder? Because he was not religious, he was not practicing any discipline, had no special spiritual qualifications or knowledge--he was not "worthy".
So, who defines worthiness? Who is "deserving" of what we have often termed as "grace", for lack of any better term?
Dr. Elaine Pagels, one of my favorite early Church scholars, gave a talk on the book of Revelation in the Bible. She points out that there are at least 6 known books of Revelation from the early Church period--only this one was chosen for the Canon. Her talk speculates on why this is the case, but most interesting is her discussion of those other books (at least one was deemed "heretical" by the Church). There is one significant difference between the other books and the one in the Bible. In all the other books, Jesus appears and says, in effect, "All will be well." There is a sense that everyone is eligible for salvation, everyone can receive the "Holy Spirit". However, in the Biblical Revelation, there is a distinction between spiritual haves and have-nots, the worthy and the unworthy, the "pure" and the "sinful". Those categories are very strictly maintained.
This latter view is epidemic in our cultural mythology. We believe ourselves to be flawed and unworthy. We want to believe in the idea of "Divine Justice"--if we've been wronged, then ultimately the "bad guys" get punished. At the same time we fear punishment ourselves, because we are perpetually unsure that we are not one of the bad guys. While one cannot make a blanket statement about all priests, ministers, and churches, it is unfortunately true that church leaders tend to perpetuate this mythology. Cultivating humility is one thing. Passing judgment on others as a religious leader is quite another. I believe it was Jesus who said, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." I believe Jesus also said "Judge not, lest you be judged". Or, as my neighbor, who is completely unversed in doctrinal theology once said best: "I thought that if someone sinned, you were supposed to pray for them and let God judge."
Of course, some of these folks do pray. Their prayers, in effect, say, "I would like to pray for person A, who is sinful because they are not like me." And they fail to see the irony in that.
When I was a child and went to Church, I noticed that my mother never went to communion. I would ask her why, and she would just tell me to hush. Later, I found out it was because she was "not allowed" to receive communion because she was not "in a state of Grace". Why? Because she married my father, who was divorced from his previous wife. They considered her to be an "adulterer", which is pretty funny. She finally got an annulment, and after laying out several hundred dollars in cash, was apparently considered to be in a "state of Grace" again. This is one of many reasons that I find it hard to take the Church's position on such things seriously. If "grace" comes from how much money you have or how much work you do to promote a particular priest's agenda, then it has nothing to do with anything remotely "Divine".
I've said it 100 times, I'll say it again--the word "religion" comes from the Latin word meaning "to tie back." We are broken, religion is to put us back together. Religion is about connecting, unifying. Among humans, this can only be accomplished through compassion. There isn't a person alive who hasn't gone through difficulties, and hoped that others would be understanding even if they didn't agree with their decisions. If we were in dire need, we would hope that others would help us. Compassion doesn't judge people's viewpoints or decisions. When you start judging worthiness, you're not "linking back", you're tearing (further) apart.
We judge ourselves the hardest. When we have moments that can only be defined as "Grace" (as my hairdresser did), we immediately feel we are not worthy of them. We feel we have to be saintly, purified, or special. It has to be the "reward" for years of hard discipline. When you think about it, this implies that "grace" is something we can control--that if we just follow those certain steps, we will always have those "a-ha" moments. And we think this because we are raised to believe that we are imperfect, and nothing like the Divine. We put people into categories; in monotheism, it's often the line between the "saved" or "elect" and the "unsaved" or "evildoers".
I was re-reading some Erik Erikson lectures, and was reminded of his notion of "pseudospeciation". Humans have a tendency to create hierarchies, to put people into artificial categories. In short, some humans become "better" than other humans. Such a way of thinking at its extreme can lead to dehumanization of entire groups. Any kind of genocide, eugenics, or "ethnic cleansing" comes from this extreme of pseudospeciation. And it has its roots in a mythology that suggests some are more worthy than others.
Real "religion" is about compassion--about bringing people together, about equal respect. Anything else is not real religion--it's using religious doctrine to promote self-serving agendas. No one has any business discussing anyone else's "worthiness" in the face of the Ultimate--whether you believe the Ultimate is a Being or a State of Consciousness. And if we feel we are unworthy, it's because we've been convinced that we're not connected--that only the very "pure" are connected. Everyone is connected, without exception--your level of awareness of that will vary. How you live your life is irrelevant when it comes to those realizations. Your happiness depends on your ability to accept whatever comes, not on how well you follow a set of arbitrary cultural rules.
First--I saw this blog posting today. It's from the woman who defended her young son's right to dress up as Daphne from Scooby-Doo for Halloween, when other parents told her it was "inappropriate" (read as: promoting "gay" behavior). Apparently her Church pastor has joined in the bullying, and told her she was "in violation of Matthew 18 and the 8th commandment", claiming she lied about the other mothers who judged her son. He also threatened her with ex-communication if she didn't issue a public apology.
Second--I had a conversation with my hairdresser on Friday that is similar to the conversation I've had with others over the years. He has had his own spiritual experiences, which he defines as "pure grace"--and then wonders why he had them. Why wonder? Because he was not religious, he was not practicing any discipline, had no special spiritual qualifications or knowledge--he was not "worthy".
So, who defines worthiness? Who is "deserving" of what we have often termed as "grace", for lack of any better term?
Dr. Elaine Pagels, one of my favorite early Church scholars, gave a talk on the book of Revelation in the Bible. She points out that there are at least 6 known books of Revelation from the early Church period--only this one was chosen for the Canon. Her talk speculates on why this is the case, but most interesting is her discussion of those other books (at least one was deemed "heretical" by the Church). There is one significant difference between the other books and the one in the Bible. In all the other books, Jesus appears and says, in effect, "All will be well." There is a sense that everyone is eligible for salvation, everyone can receive the "Holy Spirit". However, in the Biblical Revelation, there is a distinction between spiritual haves and have-nots, the worthy and the unworthy, the "pure" and the "sinful". Those categories are very strictly maintained.
This latter view is epidemic in our cultural mythology. We believe ourselves to be flawed and unworthy. We want to believe in the idea of "Divine Justice"--if we've been wronged, then ultimately the "bad guys" get punished. At the same time we fear punishment ourselves, because we are perpetually unsure that we are not one of the bad guys. While one cannot make a blanket statement about all priests, ministers, and churches, it is unfortunately true that church leaders tend to perpetuate this mythology. Cultivating humility is one thing. Passing judgment on others as a religious leader is quite another. I believe it was Jesus who said, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." I believe Jesus also said "Judge not, lest you be judged". Or, as my neighbor, who is completely unversed in doctrinal theology once said best: "I thought that if someone sinned, you were supposed to pray for them and let God judge."
Of course, some of these folks do pray. Their prayers, in effect, say, "I would like to pray for person A, who is sinful because they are not like me." And they fail to see the irony in that.
When I was a child and went to Church, I noticed that my mother never went to communion. I would ask her why, and she would just tell me to hush. Later, I found out it was because she was "not allowed" to receive communion because she was not "in a state of Grace". Why? Because she married my father, who was divorced from his previous wife. They considered her to be an "adulterer", which is pretty funny. She finally got an annulment, and after laying out several hundred dollars in cash, was apparently considered to be in a "state of Grace" again. This is one of many reasons that I find it hard to take the Church's position on such things seriously. If "grace" comes from how much money you have or how much work you do to promote a particular priest's agenda, then it has nothing to do with anything remotely "Divine".
I've said it 100 times, I'll say it again--the word "religion" comes from the Latin word meaning "to tie back." We are broken, religion is to put us back together. Religion is about connecting, unifying. Among humans, this can only be accomplished through compassion. There isn't a person alive who hasn't gone through difficulties, and hoped that others would be understanding even if they didn't agree with their decisions. If we were in dire need, we would hope that others would help us. Compassion doesn't judge people's viewpoints or decisions. When you start judging worthiness, you're not "linking back", you're tearing (further) apart.
We judge ourselves the hardest. When we have moments that can only be defined as "Grace" (as my hairdresser did), we immediately feel we are not worthy of them. We feel we have to be saintly, purified, or special. It has to be the "reward" for years of hard discipline. When you think about it, this implies that "grace" is something we can control--that if we just follow those certain steps, we will always have those "a-ha" moments. And we think this because we are raised to believe that we are imperfect, and nothing like the Divine. We put people into categories; in monotheism, it's often the line between the "saved" or "elect" and the "unsaved" or "evildoers".
I was re-reading some Erik Erikson lectures, and was reminded of his notion of "pseudospeciation". Humans have a tendency to create hierarchies, to put people into artificial categories. In short, some humans become "better" than other humans. Such a way of thinking at its extreme can lead to dehumanization of entire groups. Any kind of genocide, eugenics, or "ethnic cleansing" comes from this extreme of pseudospeciation. And it has its roots in a mythology that suggests some are more worthy than others.
Real "religion" is about compassion--about bringing people together, about equal respect. Anything else is not real religion--it's using religious doctrine to promote self-serving agendas. No one has any business discussing anyone else's "worthiness" in the face of the Ultimate--whether you believe the Ultimate is a Being or a State of Consciousness. And if we feel we are unworthy, it's because we've been convinced that we're not connected--that only the very "pure" are connected. Everyone is connected, without exception--your level of awareness of that will vary. How you live your life is irrelevant when it comes to those realizations. Your happiness depends on your ability to accept whatever comes, not on how well you follow a set of arbitrary cultural rules.
Friday, February 04, 2011
(Pseudo) Snow Day Randomness 2011
I was talking to a friend today about my writing. I mentioned that I’ve had a hard time generating any kind of substantial thoughts about anything. Yeah, there are things going on in the world, but I really don’t know how I feel about any of them at the moment, and don’t want to speculate. He reminded me that I hadn’t yet done a 2011 “snow day randomness” post. I am not looking to encourage any more snow. But if you look outside, every day is pretty much a day with snow, so this will have to be close enough.
So, I present to you—2011 snow day randomness:
First—Sarah Palin seeks to trademark her name, and her daughter’s. Ostensibly this is because she’s protecting her “brand”, but I’ll betcha (pun intended) that she would use said trademark to sue anyone who she feels uses her name improperly. Which is OK by me—I’ll just refer to her on good days as “Caribou Barbie”, and on bad days as “The Alaska Jackass”.
Next, a stunning photo of the village under Mittlerspitz by David Kaplan.
John Foxx goes quasi-industrial with Benge. This new album is going to be BITCHIN’:
Here are a couple of recent and worthy Onion articles. The first reminds me of hipster couples that I know. The second is hilarious, but also scary. The Onion has a scary amount of truth in their satire. Example: When Bush was elected President, they posted an article, “Bush: Our Long National Nightmare of Peace and Prosperity is Finally Over”. And, very soon thereafter, it was.
Honey, I'm not going to stand here and debate the merits of the B'52s...
Republicans vote to repeal Obama-backed bill that would destroy asteroid headed for Earth
Here is a great page about the writer M.R. James. There are links to 11 of his ghost stories. I’d cite a favorite, but it’s difficult.
Here is one of my favorite Bugs Bunny cartoons with backwards titles and credits:
And finally, here are some Spongmonkies. You’re welcome.
So, I present to you—2011 snow day randomness:
First—Sarah Palin seeks to trademark her name, and her daughter’s. Ostensibly this is because she’s protecting her “brand”, but I’ll betcha (pun intended) that she would use said trademark to sue anyone who she feels uses her name improperly. Which is OK by me—I’ll just refer to her on good days as “Caribou Barbie”, and on bad days as “The Alaska Jackass”.
Next, a stunning photo of the village under Mittlerspitz by David Kaplan.
John Foxx goes quasi-industrial with Benge. This new album is going to be BITCHIN’:
Here are a couple of recent and worthy Onion articles. The first reminds me of hipster couples that I know. The second is hilarious, but also scary. The Onion has a scary amount of truth in their satire. Example: When Bush was elected President, they posted an article, “Bush: Our Long National Nightmare of Peace and Prosperity is Finally Over”. And, very soon thereafter, it was.
Honey, I'm not going to stand here and debate the merits of the B'52s...
Republicans vote to repeal Obama-backed bill that would destroy asteroid headed for Earth
Here is a great page about the writer M.R. James. There are links to 11 of his ghost stories. I’d cite a favorite, but it’s difficult.
Here is one of my favorite Bugs Bunny cartoons with backwards titles and credits:
And finally, here are some Spongmonkies. You’re welcome.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
February 2ish
Punxsutawney Phil says that Spring is just around the corner. I’m inclined to believe him, because he’s a furry rodent. I’m sure the people organizing the event have something to do with the declaration, but I want to believe him. As I heaved large chunks of sleet and ice from the end of my driveway this morning, and had to bludgeon the ice on my car to get it to move, I really wanted to believe Spring was coming. Besides the Phil factor (or phactor), my general feeling has been that this winter will never end. And of course, life has a way of doing the opposite of whatever I assume to be true. Sometimes this works in my favor.
I heard that New York City now has its own groundhog, and its own ceremony. Today, the groundhog apparently bit Mayor Bloomberg. I have no idea if he saw his shadow or not (Bloomberg or the groundhog). I also don’t know where he would have a hole in New York City that he could crawl out from (the groundhog, not Bloomberg). In any case, we hope the Mayor is all right, and that he takes it as Nature’s warning against doing nothing about getting municipal workers to plow two feet of snow for over a week.
Still, I tend to go with Phil’s predictions. Call me a traditionalist if you like. I’ve never made the trek to Punxsutawney—I’m not that hardcore about the event. Besides, today is Brigid’s Day. This refers to St. Brigid, and the Goddess Brigid. My own name comes from the latter, but either way is good. Brigid is a fire goddess, and heralds Spring. She’s also the goddess of inspiration—the creative fire. St. Brigid, besides being a woman bishop (the Church says it was “an accident”) had the belief that Heaven contained “a great lake of beer” from which all could partake and enjoy it’s “mercies”.
There is a story in the Zohar about a Rabbi who visits Heaven and Hell and finds they are identical—people sitting at a great feast with spoons chained to their wrists. The difference was that people were starving in Hell because they couldn’t use the spoons, but feasting in Heaven because the people fed each other. I imagine the Brigid beer lake scenario is similar inasmuch as Heaven and Hell are both a lake of beer. The difference is that in Hell, the beer is made by Anheuser-Busch. Not much of a moral there, but oh well.
In any case, I am trying to be optimistic in the face of this latest storm. So far, the Great Wall of Snow has been about seven feet high (everywhere), and this ice storm added nothing to that except—well, some ice. I also noticed that two very large sections of two trees on my property came crashing down with this storm. This is good news—both of them hung precariously, one of them low enough to be threatening (pit-and-pendulum style), but too high to take down with a cherry picker. I thought I would have to call a tree service, but Nature has done the job for free. Plus, I kind of enjoy watching the squirrels come racing down the tree in my driveway and go sailing across the ice on my neighbor’s lawn. I think they do it on purpose.
In any case, I’m celebrating Brigid’s Day and the groundhog’s prediction with some quality beer.
I heard that New York City now has its own groundhog, and its own ceremony. Today, the groundhog apparently bit Mayor Bloomberg. I have no idea if he saw his shadow or not (Bloomberg or the groundhog). I also don’t know where he would have a hole in New York City that he could crawl out from (the groundhog, not Bloomberg). In any case, we hope the Mayor is all right, and that he takes it as Nature’s warning against doing nothing about getting municipal workers to plow two feet of snow for over a week.
Still, I tend to go with Phil’s predictions. Call me a traditionalist if you like. I’ve never made the trek to Punxsutawney—I’m not that hardcore about the event. Besides, today is Brigid’s Day. This refers to St. Brigid, and the Goddess Brigid. My own name comes from the latter, but either way is good. Brigid is a fire goddess, and heralds Spring. She’s also the goddess of inspiration—the creative fire. St. Brigid, besides being a woman bishop (the Church says it was “an accident”) had the belief that Heaven contained “a great lake of beer” from which all could partake and enjoy it’s “mercies”.
There is a story in the Zohar about a Rabbi who visits Heaven and Hell and finds they are identical—people sitting at a great feast with spoons chained to their wrists. The difference was that people were starving in Hell because they couldn’t use the spoons, but feasting in Heaven because the people fed each other. I imagine the Brigid beer lake scenario is similar inasmuch as Heaven and Hell are both a lake of beer. The difference is that in Hell, the beer is made by Anheuser-Busch. Not much of a moral there, but oh well.
In any case, I am trying to be optimistic in the face of this latest storm. So far, the Great Wall of Snow has been about seven feet high (everywhere), and this ice storm added nothing to that except—well, some ice. I also noticed that two very large sections of two trees on my property came crashing down with this storm. This is good news—both of them hung precariously, one of them low enough to be threatening (pit-and-pendulum style), but too high to take down with a cherry picker. I thought I would have to call a tree service, but Nature has done the job for free. Plus, I kind of enjoy watching the squirrels come racing down the tree in my driveway and go sailing across the ice on my neighbor’s lawn. I think they do it on purpose.
In any case, I’m celebrating Brigid’s Day and the groundhog’s prediction with some quality beer.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Disconnected
January has been a month of false starts and stops. Since our return from the Christmas and New Year holiday, there has been a major snow or ice event every week that has led to days off—sometimes more than one day in a row. The first storm had 7 inches of snow by me (everyone else had 26-30 inches). Then it was another 6 inches. Then a foot. Then 4 inches. Then another foot. I think we have forgotten what winter is like. And I know now why I want to forget, and why Northeast winters drove my sister’s family to relocate to the California desert.
Such events are like driving in New York City—every ten feet or so there is a red light. And every light is red. Everything is so close, and yet so far. I remind myself that we are fortunate here—our towns are prepared for such events, and a major snowstorm could drop 18 inches overnight—and I’ll be driving on clear roads by noon. Still, it disrupts appointments, work schedules, social visits. Eventually you just give up, and vow to wait until Spring for anything important.
Whether the snow is to blame, or something else, this is a very disconnected time. I walk around my house feeling like I’m haunting it. Even the cat, who is usually super-affectionate, has let me know that he’s tired of my being at home. It’s clear that I’m interrupting a long nap.
I have a lot of time at home to see what’s going on in the world (one of the ironies of modern life). I look at Tunisia, then Egypt. It restores my faith to see revolutions that are not led by crazy people. A friend of mine speculated as to whether or not this represents a shift away from Islamic extremism in the Middle East. Yes, the uprisings are not about religion, but there have been big pushes for democracy, and not towards theocracy. I think all things that go on in the world touch each other, and as each event occurs, you wonder where the wildly oscillating pendulum will stop. You hope it is in a good place.
Two weekends ago, I visited with my friends Jeanette and Dan, and our varied conversation got around to events in the United States. Dan pointed out that liberals have always failed in this country because they believe they can win by presenting facts. They forget that the people they are opposing are driven by a narrative—what I would call a myth. We are all driven by narratives, but this is a special narrative, a set of assumptions about how things are supposed to be in this country, and why they are that way. It’s a mythology made up of the founding fathers, the Bible, the U.S. Constitution, and the didactic tales of dime novels. And, like most mythologies, it contains few ( if any) actual facts. This is also why scientists fail to convince Biblical literalists that evolution is not just “a theory”. Those who present facts are seen as elitist, intellectual snobs—hence, the deriding of education as meaningful.
This is mind-boggling to most folks, but the only way to win is to take the narrative seriously, even if it makes no sense. Dan mentioned FDR—he was able to sell a public with similar views on many aspects of his “socialist” New Deal by showing how his goals were not different from theirs—it was a question of semiotics, different meanings and words for the same thing.
And so it comes back to language. Babel. Lots of people talking, many cannot understand each other, even though linguistically they are speaking the same language. At the risk of oversimplifying, I would suggest it is the language of the “old” versus the language of the “young”. The demographics are not that strict, but one is certainly an old world view, and it is mostly embraced by the older people in our society. However, it is clear that younger generations have much different values. As the older generations pass on, the younger ones will put forward their new values. Let’s just hope we survive the rash of climate-change denial that is decidedly part of the “old” view.
We may have to wait until Spring to do anything important.
Such events are like driving in New York City—every ten feet or so there is a red light. And every light is red. Everything is so close, and yet so far. I remind myself that we are fortunate here—our towns are prepared for such events, and a major snowstorm could drop 18 inches overnight—and I’ll be driving on clear roads by noon. Still, it disrupts appointments, work schedules, social visits. Eventually you just give up, and vow to wait until Spring for anything important.
Whether the snow is to blame, or something else, this is a very disconnected time. I walk around my house feeling like I’m haunting it. Even the cat, who is usually super-affectionate, has let me know that he’s tired of my being at home. It’s clear that I’m interrupting a long nap.
I have a lot of time at home to see what’s going on in the world (one of the ironies of modern life). I look at Tunisia, then Egypt. It restores my faith to see revolutions that are not led by crazy people. A friend of mine speculated as to whether or not this represents a shift away from Islamic extremism in the Middle East. Yes, the uprisings are not about religion, but there have been big pushes for democracy, and not towards theocracy. I think all things that go on in the world touch each other, and as each event occurs, you wonder where the wildly oscillating pendulum will stop. You hope it is in a good place.
Two weekends ago, I visited with my friends Jeanette and Dan, and our varied conversation got around to events in the United States. Dan pointed out that liberals have always failed in this country because they believe they can win by presenting facts. They forget that the people they are opposing are driven by a narrative—what I would call a myth. We are all driven by narratives, but this is a special narrative, a set of assumptions about how things are supposed to be in this country, and why they are that way. It’s a mythology made up of the founding fathers, the Bible, the U.S. Constitution, and the didactic tales of dime novels. And, like most mythologies, it contains few ( if any) actual facts. This is also why scientists fail to convince Biblical literalists that evolution is not just “a theory”. Those who present facts are seen as elitist, intellectual snobs—hence, the deriding of education as meaningful.
This is mind-boggling to most folks, but the only way to win is to take the narrative seriously, even if it makes no sense. Dan mentioned FDR—he was able to sell a public with similar views on many aspects of his “socialist” New Deal by showing how his goals were not different from theirs—it was a question of semiotics, different meanings and words for the same thing.
And so it comes back to language. Babel. Lots of people talking, many cannot understand each other, even though linguistically they are speaking the same language. At the risk of oversimplifying, I would suggest it is the language of the “old” versus the language of the “young”. The demographics are not that strict, but one is certainly an old world view, and it is mostly embraced by the older people in our society. However, it is clear that younger generations have much different values. As the older generations pass on, the younger ones will put forward their new values. Let’s just hope we survive the rash of climate-change denial that is decidedly part of the “old” view.
We may have to wait until Spring to do anything important.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Useless
"Imagination is the act of celebrating the useless"--James Carroll.
What is useful?
I found myself thinking about that question this weekend. The above quote jumped out at me from a book I was reading in the library of the retreat house where I've squirreled myself away for the freezing cold weekend. What followed was the epiphany that life is totally useless.
If you think about what general relativity says about the center of the universe--you realize that you are it. The center is the frame of reference. You can't have a frame of reference outside your own, no matter how hard you try. Then think about the oddities of quantum mechanics--for instance, I'd mentioned in a previous posting that we blink in and out of existence 186,000 times a day. We don't notice this for two reasons--one is that it's happening non-simultaneously on a particle level. The other reason is that our brains have filters. We can't SEE it happening, just as we can't see many other details. In short--we fill in the gaps with our imagination. Reality is created by us, and everyone's experience of reality is going to be different from their neighbor's.
In academia, there has been an attack on the humanities in recent years. Degrees in philosophy, religion, literature, and languages are seen as "useless". What is deemed useful? Those degrees that prepare you for a vocation. Accounting, business, technology, medicine. The last of these has to do with preserving our physical bodies, something impossible in the very long term. Technology is a here-today-gone-tomorrow career; what you're trained for today is obsolete tomorrow. The first two have to do with money--balancing books, selling either products or services. Money is a grand hallucination; in this day and age, it is no more than numbers going back and forth between computer servers. If it is something physical, it's usually rocks or paper given an arbitrary value. We spend a lot of money on things we don't need--and business convinces us to do so. In the grand scheme of things, these fields don't have any more meaning or important than the liberal arts. No one will care how many widgets you sold in 50 years, never mind 10,000 years.
"Useful" careers are presumably those that allow you to achieve financial stability. You can get a job, buy a house, put money in the bank--for what? Well, to meet needs, but often people want to do more than just meet their needs. They want to have leisure. In short--the goal is to save money so that you can spend your quality time being "useless". Most people aren't into having demanding careers just to work for endless hours year round. Unless that career is so wonderful it's like leisure. And leisure is...well, you know.
What is life without imagination? I would suggest it isn't life at all; it's state of living death. You can't have hope without imagination. You can't make any kind of advances in any area without imagination. We create the world. So why do we disdain the professions that are about imagining? Literature, art, music, and religious ritual are all "useless", and that uselessness is what makes us human, the thing that allows us to connect with each other. They don't have a "purpose" other than to tell a kind of story. And our consciousness is nothing but stories. Your whole life has a narrative, whether you're aware of it or not. Either you created it, or society created it for you.
Carroll makes the statement that it's not about what you have or what you do, it's the fact that you are. That alone makes you worthy of respect, and that should be the only criterion. Money, position, and productivity do not make you more respect-worthy than those engaged in so-called "useless" endeavors. The wealthy businessmen is not worthy of any more respect than the starving artist. Both should be equally respected.
This is a tough thing to swallow. We want to believe that our lives have a "purpose". We believe that success is connected to hard work. We believe that wealth and status are the fruits of hard work. None of that is true. Think of how many people work hours and hours every day and still don't have enough to make ends meet. Or, even among those who can meet their obligations--how many are in jobs they hate. As Joseph Campbell said, "When you get off the beam just to make money, you have given up your life." And your life is, of course--useless.
Uselessness is a virtue. It means connecting with and helping others for no damn good reason. It means creating worlds that are interesting, even if not entirely logical or "productive". There's no need to drive at anything, towards one temporal goal after another. Everything just is, and there's no reason to feel guilty about that. Everyone just is, and they need no special qualifications to be respected. There's no need to "perfect" anything. To "perfect" is to finish (perficere). To be finished is to die. You just need to connect with others while you're living.
So, if you're a liberal arts major, an artist, a writer--and someone questions the value of your investment in your future--remember that you're investing in the future of being human. That goes a lot farther than most bank accounts.
Oh, and incidentally--I was listening to Jon Stewart's Daily Show with guest Neil deGrasse Tyson today. Tyson finished his interview with this quote: "Imagination is more important than knowledge." That quote was from Einstein.
What is useful?
I found myself thinking about that question this weekend. The above quote jumped out at me from a book I was reading in the library of the retreat house where I've squirreled myself away for the freezing cold weekend. What followed was the epiphany that life is totally useless.
If you think about what general relativity says about the center of the universe--you realize that you are it. The center is the frame of reference. You can't have a frame of reference outside your own, no matter how hard you try. Then think about the oddities of quantum mechanics--for instance, I'd mentioned in a previous posting that we blink in and out of existence 186,000 times a day. We don't notice this for two reasons--one is that it's happening non-simultaneously on a particle level. The other reason is that our brains have filters. We can't SEE it happening, just as we can't see many other details. In short--we fill in the gaps with our imagination. Reality is created by us, and everyone's experience of reality is going to be different from their neighbor's.
In academia, there has been an attack on the humanities in recent years. Degrees in philosophy, religion, literature, and languages are seen as "useless". What is deemed useful? Those degrees that prepare you for a vocation. Accounting, business, technology, medicine. The last of these has to do with preserving our physical bodies, something impossible in the very long term. Technology is a here-today-gone-tomorrow career; what you're trained for today is obsolete tomorrow. The first two have to do with money--balancing books, selling either products or services. Money is a grand hallucination; in this day and age, it is no more than numbers going back and forth between computer servers. If it is something physical, it's usually rocks or paper given an arbitrary value. We spend a lot of money on things we don't need--and business convinces us to do so. In the grand scheme of things, these fields don't have any more meaning or important than the liberal arts. No one will care how many widgets you sold in 50 years, never mind 10,000 years.
"Useful" careers are presumably those that allow you to achieve financial stability. You can get a job, buy a house, put money in the bank--for what? Well, to meet needs, but often people want to do more than just meet their needs. They want to have leisure. In short--the goal is to save money so that you can spend your quality time being "useless". Most people aren't into having demanding careers just to work for endless hours year round. Unless that career is so wonderful it's like leisure. And leisure is...well, you know.
What is life without imagination? I would suggest it isn't life at all; it's state of living death. You can't have hope without imagination. You can't make any kind of advances in any area without imagination. We create the world. So why do we disdain the professions that are about imagining? Literature, art, music, and religious ritual are all "useless", and that uselessness is what makes us human, the thing that allows us to connect with each other. They don't have a "purpose" other than to tell a kind of story. And our consciousness is nothing but stories. Your whole life has a narrative, whether you're aware of it or not. Either you created it, or society created it for you.
Carroll makes the statement that it's not about what you have or what you do, it's the fact that you are. That alone makes you worthy of respect, and that should be the only criterion. Money, position, and productivity do not make you more respect-worthy than those engaged in so-called "useless" endeavors. The wealthy businessmen is not worthy of any more respect than the starving artist. Both should be equally respected.
This is a tough thing to swallow. We want to believe that our lives have a "purpose". We believe that success is connected to hard work. We believe that wealth and status are the fruits of hard work. None of that is true. Think of how many people work hours and hours every day and still don't have enough to make ends meet. Or, even among those who can meet their obligations--how many are in jobs they hate. As Joseph Campbell said, "When you get off the beam just to make money, you have given up your life." And your life is, of course--useless.
Uselessness is a virtue. It means connecting with and helping others for no damn good reason. It means creating worlds that are interesting, even if not entirely logical or "productive". There's no need to drive at anything, towards one temporal goal after another. Everything just is, and there's no reason to feel guilty about that. Everyone just is, and they need no special qualifications to be respected. There's no need to "perfect" anything. To "perfect" is to finish (perficere). To be finished is to die. You just need to connect with others while you're living.
So, if you're a liberal arts major, an artist, a writer--and someone questions the value of your investment in your future--remember that you're investing in the future of being human. That goes a lot farther than most bank accounts.
Oh, and incidentally--I was listening to Jon Stewart's Daily Show with guest Neil deGrasse Tyson today. Tyson finished his interview with this quote: "Imagination is more important than knowledge." That quote was from Einstein.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Connected
Everything I write is connected.
January is a month of dreams.
For the last two years, I've had the same recurring dream about John Foxx, and this month is no exception. The setting varies slightly, but the plot is the same. I'm usually in a room somewhere listening to people talk--someone's giving a lecture on something, or whatever (not necessarily in a school). I'm sitting in the front row. While the person is lecturing (always a woman), John Foxx will appear in the doorway and smile at me. He will look directly at me and no one else. Sometimes he even walks into the room and stands in front of me. Of course this is a disruption in the room, and even though the woman speaker goes on talking--and looks more amused than annoyed--I feel like I have to go find out what he wants. I get up and leave the room with him. Then, as we are walking, he quickly starts to walk faster, and doesn't talk to me, as if to distance himself.
The other dream that stood out this month was one that I can remember nothing about, except someone saying the words, "Libra should beware of Capricorn". The day after I had this dream, I was reading through my Facebook news feed. One of my Facebook friends, who I don't actually know (and don't have too much in common with), posted the following status update: "Just had this thought stream--Libras should beware of Capricorns".
I spent a snow day at home last week going through about 20 years worth of cassette mixtapes. It was a fascinating excursion into the past--I'd listen to the tapes, and remember exactly when I'd made them, and for what reason. I never made mixes without a reason. They marked some state of mind, some conflict, or some major change. My husband at the time also used to make mixes for me, and I still had some of them. Most of them had disintegrated--a living metaphor if I've ever seen one. But the ones from him that survived made me nauseated. I noted that all of the mixes I made at the very end of the 1990s were very angry ones. It was as though my feelings were like a hidden lump, an abscess, that eventually burst out--and culminated in a divorce. It's been almost 10 years since I split with my husband, and I'm surprised to recall how angry I was, and conflicted.
Then again, maybe I'm not surprised.
I discovered that ex-Sleater Kinney guitarist Carrie Brownstein has a new band, called Wild Flag. They are being dubbed an "indie supergroup", as the membership also includes ex-S-K drummer Janet Weiss, Mary Timony (formerly of Helium) and Rebecca Cole (The Minders). They are going to be touring in the next couple of months, finally leaving the West Coast, but unfortunately they are only opening for someone else. They are doing a solo show in Philadelphia, but it's around Girard Ave.--not a place I particularly feel comfortable leaving my car and walking around at night. I still might brave it. And I'm sure I'll see them at Radio City, even though they're just opening.
I was thinking about the fact that Carrie Brownstein has always come into my mind for no good reason at various times over the years, and when she does, I find out she's doing something locally--playing with a band, doing something at MoMA, whatever. Then I was reading my Twitter feeds--Kumail Nanjiani posted a link to the premier episode of Portlandia, a new comedy series on IFC with Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen (starts this Friday, 10:30 pm). Some of it was funny to me, other bits were strange. Maybe those bits would make more sense if I actually lived in Portland.
I have run into Carrie (almost literally) twice in my life--once in New York, and once in Philadelphia. I didn't talk to her either time--I was merely surprised to pass her on the street. I shouldn't have been, as she was usually in town to play with Sleater Kinney, and I was there to see them. She would look at me, and then smile, blush and put her head down--I think she knew she was recognized. I don't get the impression she's that comfortable talking to strangers. Can't say I blame her.
Getting back to those celebs who are fairly comfortable talking to strangers--John Foxx will finally have his new album with Benge coming out on March 21. Calling themselves John Foxx and the Maths, the album is called "Interplay". Here is a clip of the latest single from the album, "Evergreen":
I am very much looking forward to the release of "Interplay". (which you can pre-order now, and get "Evergreen" as a free download). I have heard bits of this album over the last 2 years--from the first single "Destination", to the songs Foxx and Benge performed at the Roundhouse in London last June, to this latest single. John is an exceptional lyric writer, and I'm rather intrigued by the lyrics on this album--they do seem to have a connected theme. Of course, I don't know all the lyrics to everything, so I will have to wait til the album comes out to see if there really is one. Still, if you like the sound of the old analog synths, you won't get a more masterful working than this album, so I recommend getting it.
And with that, I've come full circle. Time for another cup of tea while I listen to the ice rain falling...
January is a month of dreams.
For the last two years, I've had the same recurring dream about John Foxx, and this month is no exception. The setting varies slightly, but the plot is the same. I'm usually in a room somewhere listening to people talk--someone's giving a lecture on something, or whatever (not necessarily in a school). I'm sitting in the front row. While the person is lecturing (always a woman), John Foxx will appear in the doorway and smile at me. He will look directly at me and no one else. Sometimes he even walks into the room and stands in front of me. Of course this is a disruption in the room, and even though the woman speaker goes on talking--and looks more amused than annoyed--I feel like I have to go find out what he wants. I get up and leave the room with him. Then, as we are walking, he quickly starts to walk faster, and doesn't talk to me, as if to distance himself.
The other dream that stood out this month was one that I can remember nothing about, except someone saying the words, "Libra should beware of Capricorn". The day after I had this dream, I was reading through my Facebook news feed. One of my Facebook friends, who I don't actually know (and don't have too much in common with), posted the following status update: "Just had this thought stream--Libras should beware of Capricorns".
I spent a snow day at home last week going through about 20 years worth of cassette mixtapes. It was a fascinating excursion into the past--I'd listen to the tapes, and remember exactly when I'd made them, and for what reason. I never made mixes without a reason. They marked some state of mind, some conflict, or some major change. My husband at the time also used to make mixes for me, and I still had some of them. Most of them had disintegrated--a living metaphor if I've ever seen one. But the ones from him that survived made me nauseated. I noted that all of the mixes I made at the very end of the 1990s were very angry ones. It was as though my feelings were like a hidden lump, an abscess, that eventually burst out--and culminated in a divorce. It's been almost 10 years since I split with my husband, and I'm surprised to recall how angry I was, and conflicted.
Then again, maybe I'm not surprised.
I discovered that ex-Sleater Kinney guitarist Carrie Brownstein has a new band, called Wild Flag. They are being dubbed an "indie supergroup", as the membership also includes ex-S-K drummer Janet Weiss, Mary Timony (formerly of Helium) and Rebecca Cole (The Minders). They are going to be touring in the next couple of months, finally leaving the West Coast, but unfortunately they are only opening for someone else. They are doing a solo show in Philadelphia, but it's around Girard Ave.--not a place I particularly feel comfortable leaving my car and walking around at night. I still might brave it. And I'm sure I'll see them at Radio City, even though they're just opening.
I was thinking about the fact that Carrie Brownstein has always come into my mind for no good reason at various times over the years, and when she does, I find out she's doing something locally--playing with a band, doing something at MoMA, whatever. Then I was reading my Twitter feeds--Kumail Nanjiani posted a link to the premier episode of Portlandia, a new comedy series on IFC with Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen (starts this Friday, 10:30 pm). Some of it was funny to me, other bits were strange. Maybe those bits would make more sense if I actually lived in Portland.
I have run into Carrie (almost literally) twice in my life--once in New York, and once in Philadelphia. I didn't talk to her either time--I was merely surprised to pass her on the street. I shouldn't have been, as she was usually in town to play with Sleater Kinney, and I was there to see them. She would look at me, and then smile, blush and put her head down--I think she knew she was recognized. I don't get the impression she's that comfortable talking to strangers. Can't say I blame her.
Getting back to those celebs who are fairly comfortable talking to strangers--John Foxx will finally have his new album with Benge coming out on March 21. Calling themselves John Foxx and the Maths, the album is called "Interplay". Here is a clip of the latest single from the album, "Evergreen":
I am very much looking forward to the release of "Interplay". (which you can pre-order now, and get "Evergreen" as a free download). I have heard bits of this album over the last 2 years--from the first single "Destination", to the songs Foxx and Benge performed at the Roundhouse in London last June, to this latest single. John is an exceptional lyric writer, and I'm rather intrigued by the lyrics on this album--they do seem to have a connected theme. Of course, I don't know all the lyrics to everything, so I will have to wait til the album comes out to see if there really is one. Still, if you like the sound of the old analog synths, you won't get a more masterful working than this album, so I recommend getting it.
And with that, I've come full circle. Time for another cup of tea while I listen to the ice rain falling...
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Irony
I'm finding life in these United States to be ironic these days. It's the understatement of the old and new year, but this is what I see:
You have a "grass-roots" political movement that is about "liberty" and "maintaining freedom" that has a habit of threatening with violence those who exercise their First Amendment rights to free speech they don't happen to agree with. And in some cases--like with Rep. Gifford from Arizona yesterday--they act on their violent impulses. (It is true that we do not know the shooter's motive yet. However, in this political climate, it's hard to say that it's not politically motivated).
You have many political programs on television that are about "getting to the truth" that don't provide a shred of factual evidence for anything, just paranoid conspiracy theories--hateful ones. And these are widely accepted as fact by a public that, in its quest for truth, sees no need to question anything.
You have a majority of people who want to stop the madness, and yet their voices seem to be unheard.
You have groups (often related to the ones mentioned above) that are on "God's" side, claiming to be champions of Christianity in this country, that do nothing to promote compassion and everything to promote hatred, prejudice and separation. Not that this is so unique in history. But it is ironic.
You have a political party gaining power that likes to complain about the existing government, to tear down everything it does, and yet provides no real alternative solutions to the problems facing this country. Of course, that would involve looking at facts, and, well--see my second point above.
This same political party defends the right of 1% of the country--the uber-rich--and treats the poor, starving, unemployed, and/or uninsured like they are parasites. Government apparently has nothing to do with providing for its citizens. While--ironically, of course--I can recall another country where the majority of people were on bread lines and the money was in the hands of a very few--the Soviet Union before 1990 (and maybe after, to a point).
The push for de-regulation suggests an idealized humanity in the business world that will "do the right thing" and not be greedy. Somehow it is forgotten that the crisis we're in is the result of greed, and the fact that there's a crisis won't stop it. Oh, and there's no need to address climate change, because all of those weirdos who base things on "scientific fact" and don't believe God will fix it are just heathens.
Did I mention that we have a secular government? Yeah, that's another irony.
Speaking of the government--the Department of Justice and a Congressional committee are now bent on making Wikileaks a terrorist organization for leaking cables that should have been better protected if they were so sensitive, especially in this day and age, where nothing is private. While people like Sarah Palin can post a map with gun targets and names of Democratic congresspeople, and Rep. Michelle Bachman can encourage her constituents to engage in an armed uprising against the government, and those people are somehow not terrorists. Their free speech is "protected". (Whatever happened to the Sedition Act?)
So tell me--what is the way to make this country less "ironic"? Violence is certainly not the answer. And Obama has tried the "sitting down and talking reasonably" method, which has not worked since the beginning of his Presidency. He hasn't figured that out yet, apparently, or maybe believes that he'll find a moderate Republican congressperson hiding behind a tree somewhere. So, reasonable debate and a dispassionate look at the facts is apparently out, too. So, what's left? Do we have to let the right utterly destroy everything before people wake up and realize it was a huge mistake? And could we reverse the mistake at that point?
This is the Shadow side of the Collective Unconscious of this nation, and it's an ugly thing to confront. I don't know how these negatives can be integrated, but it probably needs to start with accountability. Freedom doesn't mean that you can do what you want with no consideration of others. With freedom comes great responsibility, and that's never been more evident.
So, nation--this isn't Lord of the Flies. Start behaving like adults. This involves respecting your fellow humans, whether you agree with them or not, whether you personally like them or not. You can "fight" in honorable ways. And take responsibility for your actions. If there are no ground rules for the debate, then no one solves anything and everyone destroys everything.
You have a "grass-roots" political movement that is about "liberty" and "maintaining freedom" that has a habit of threatening with violence those who exercise their First Amendment rights to free speech they don't happen to agree with. And in some cases--like with Rep. Gifford from Arizona yesterday--they act on their violent impulses. (It is true that we do not know the shooter's motive yet. However, in this political climate, it's hard to say that it's not politically motivated).
You have many political programs on television that are about "getting to the truth" that don't provide a shred of factual evidence for anything, just paranoid conspiracy theories--hateful ones. And these are widely accepted as fact by a public that, in its quest for truth, sees no need to question anything.
You have a majority of people who want to stop the madness, and yet their voices seem to be unheard.
You have groups (often related to the ones mentioned above) that are on "God's" side, claiming to be champions of Christianity in this country, that do nothing to promote compassion and everything to promote hatred, prejudice and separation. Not that this is so unique in history. But it is ironic.
You have a political party gaining power that likes to complain about the existing government, to tear down everything it does, and yet provides no real alternative solutions to the problems facing this country. Of course, that would involve looking at facts, and, well--see my second point above.
This same political party defends the right of 1% of the country--the uber-rich--and treats the poor, starving, unemployed, and/or uninsured like they are parasites. Government apparently has nothing to do with providing for its citizens. While--ironically, of course--I can recall another country where the majority of people were on bread lines and the money was in the hands of a very few--the Soviet Union before 1990 (and maybe after, to a point).
The push for de-regulation suggests an idealized humanity in the business world that will "do the right thing" and not be greedy. Somehow it is forgotten that the crisis we're in is the result of greed, and the fact that there's a crisis won't stop it. Oh, and there's no need to address climate change, because all of those weirdos who base things on "scientific fact" and don't believe God will fix it are just heathens.
Did I mention that we have a secular government? Yeah, that's another irony.
Speaking of the government--the Department of Justice and a Congressional committee are now bent on making Wikileaks a terrorist organization for leaking cables that should have been better protected if they were so sensitive, especially in this day and age, where nothing is private. While people like Sarah Palin can post a map with gun targets and names of Democratic congresspeople, and Rep. Michelle Bachman can encourage her constituents to engage in an armed uprising against the government, and those people are somehow not terrorists. Their free speech is "protected". (Whatever happened to the Sedition Act?)
So tell me--what is the way to make this country less "ironic"? Violence is certainly not the answer. And Obama has tried the "sitting down and talking reasonably" method, which has not worked since the beginning of his Presidency. He hasn't figured that out yet, apparently, or maybe believes that he'll find a moderate Republican congressperson hiding behind a tree somewhere. So, reasonable debate and a dispassionate look at the facts is apparently out, too. So, what's left? Do we have to let the right utterly destroy everything before people wake up and realize it was a huge mistake? And could we reverse the mistake at that point?
This is the Shadow side of the Collective Unconscious of this nation, and it's an ugly thing to confront. I don't know how these negatives can be integrated, but it probably needs to start with accountability. Freedom doesn't mean that you can do what you want with no consideration of others. With freedom comes great responsibility, and that's never been more evident.
So, nation--this isn't Lord of the Flies. Start behaving like adults. This involves respecting your fellow humans, whether you agree with them or not, whether you personally like them or not. You can "fight" in honorable ways. And take responsibility for your actions. If there are no ground rules for the debate, then no one solves anything and everyone destroys everything.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Goetia and Vibration
I opened my messages this morning to find an e-mail from my good friend Phil. He sent me a link to the introduction of Geosophia, a new Scarlet Imprint book by Jake Stratton Kent. The book traces the origins of Western magic to early Greek origins, with African and Indian influences. After reading through the introduction, it is clear to me that this is an important read for those interested in the subject.
Kent talks about the primeval Greek gods and their rites, which are sterilized in classical literary accounts of Greek mythology. Most importantly, he talks about the term goetia. Goetia is associated with the evocation of demons, and in particular, the Lemegeton, or the first book of the Key of Solomon. What I did not know about the term goetia is that it originates in the Greek term goes, which refers to a person, not a particular operation or method. Goetia is often translated as "howling", though it more accurately means "lamenting". The goes is akin to the keening woman or wailing woman that used to go to funerals. It refers to funerary rites that involved wailing and weeping. The "demonic" attributes now given to the term come from the old business of "the god of the old religion is the devil of the new". Additionally, the goetic rites were associated with the lower classes (and with Dionysus, traditionally an "outsider" deity), and therefore were distasteful to the upper, educated classes.
There is much to take in here with regard to the history of Western magic. However, for me, I was struck by the description of the act of keening itself. The reason that such howling lamentations were part of the service was to allow the vibrations of those sounds to guide the dead to the underworld. Similarly, those sounds could be used to bring the dead back temporarily for some purpose, hence its association with necromancy (divination by consulting the dead, quite common at that time). You could bring the dead back for other reasons too, and this was the real concern that the ancients had with these rituals, and their eventual association with black magic (one of the reasons, anyway). But then, the notion of goetia goes back to the one performing the operation. It's not necessarily evil in itself--it depends on the operator.
The idea of the vibration of the keening sounds having an impact strikes me as a very Indic idea, as it is in perfect accord with the use of mantras in meditation. Sound is relevant to existence. The particles that make up matter--that make up our physical selves--vibrate at a certain frequency. In the William Burroughs interview with Jimmy Page, Burroughs mentions infra-sound and its use as a military weapon. You can kill someone with sound pitched lower that 16 Hertz, as well as break windows and other objects. When one is in deep meditation, one is aware of a sound and vibration that hums beneath everything else, and when you attune yourself to that vibration, you are in tune with the universe (in theory, and likely in practice, too). The mantra is given to you by a master who is attuning your sound to your own harmonious pitch, if you will.
And thus we come to the notion of sacred or magic words. You can't really separate magic from religion in this sense, because both are seeking to bring about a change in something through means more subtle than direct action. They act upon that which is not obvious (therefore hidden, and therefore termed "occult", which means hidden). The transubstantiation of the Eucharist in a Mass--with its attendant words and vibrations--is not different in this sense from Enochian chanting or reciting mantras of purification.
Beyond the notion of sound, Goetia is an ancient address of something we've long sought to ignore--the "darker" side of our nature and death. Modern psychology will tell you that whatever "good" qualities or attributes you perceive in yourself, the opposite of those qualities also exists within you. When we look at serial killers or other monstrous sorts, we are horrified, and act as though the person were possessed by some outside devil or demon. However, it is an indication of the potential of our minds. We have the potential to do great things that benefit humankind, and we also have the gruesome potential of destruction. If we have one, we have the other. If one engages in Jungian therapy, one inevitably confronts their "shadow"--the repressed side of ourselves that we try to pretend isn't there. Looking away from the shadow is a problem, and I think it's the real meaning of C.S. Lewis's statement (paraphrased), "the devil would like you to believe he doesn't exist".
If one looks at the attributes of ancient underworld demons, they are never totally evil. They are often monstrous and horrific, but their function is often one of punishment. If one breaks an oath, or kills a parent, there are specific underworld deities that will torment you (according to the ancient Greek tradition, as well as others). This sounds tremendously like the notion of "conscience". If you feel no guilt or no suffering for your bad actions--if you have no demons to punish you--then you are a sociopath. Of course, sociopaths do have demons; they are just so effectively repressed that they have taken over. They no longer serve the function of discrimination.
Western Biblical mythology goes something like this: Man was perfect (meaning all good and innocent). Then he ate from the tree of knowledge, and became corrupt (sinful--not innocent). The soul's journey, therefore, is about attaining "perfection"--trying to reach the state we were in prior to the Fall. In the monotheistic doctrines, this means obedience to God (and in the case of Christians, accepting Jesus as the link back to perfection). Those who are highly imperfect are said to be influenced by the Devil. You notice that this battle goes on outside the person--things attack from the outside, not from the inside. Ironically, there is a dualism that is created, even though dualism is shunned by monotheistic religions. You are still waging the Zoroastrian battle of good versus evil.
The point of recognizing the notion of goetia and its role in our lives is to integrate our dark sides, not try to repress or destroy them. They have a function. To think of them as "external" is a mistake--you are not really separate from the "external". That doesn't mean one should engage in goetic ritual--I wouldn't advise such a thing unless someone was working with someone experienced, and assuming that's the path you want to take to negotiate those darker parts of the collective soul. Because it is repressed in most of us, it is unconscious--and you are essentially swimming in the dark if you take it on without preparation. But you can no more avoid your own "darker" traits than you can have a life where everything goes your way. It's part of the journey of self-discovery, and awareness is the key to everything.
Kent talks about the primeval Greek gods and their rites, which are sterilized in classical literary accounts of Greek mythology. Most importantly, he talks about the term goetia. Goetia is associated with the evocation of demons, and in particular, the Lemegeton, or the first book of the Key of Solomon. What I did not know about the term goetia is that it originates in the Greek term goes, which refers to a person, not a particular operation or method. Goetia is often translated as "howling", though it more accurately means "lamenting". The goes is akin to the keening woman or wailing woman that used to go to funerals. It refers to funerary rites that involved wailing and weeping. The "demonic" attributes now given to the term come from the old business of "the god of the old religion is the devil of the new". Additionally, the goetic rites were associated with the lower classes (and with Dionysus, traditionally an "outsider" deity), and therefore were distasteful to the upper, educated classes.
There is much to take in here with regard to the history of Western magic. However, for me, I was struck by the description of the act of keening itself. The reason that such howling lamentations were part of the service was to allow the vibrations of those sounds to guide the dead to the underworld. Similarly, those sounds could be used to bring the dead back temporarily for some purpose, hence its association with necromancy (divination by consulting the dead, quite common at that time). You could bring the dead back for other reasons too, and this was the real concern that the ancients had with these rituals, and their eventual association with black magic (one of the reasons, anyway). But then, the notion of goetia goes back to the one performing the operation. It's not necessarily evil in itself--it depends on the operator.
The idea of the vibration of the keening sounds having an impact strikes me as a very Indic idea, as it is in perfect accord with the use of mantras in meditation. Sound is relevant to existence. The particles that make up matter--that make up our physical selves--vibrate at a certain frequency. In the William Burroughs interview with Jimmy Page, Burroughs mentions infra-sound and its use as a military weapon. You can kill someone with sound pitched lower that 16 Hertz, as well as break windows and other objects. When one is in deep meditation, one is aware of a sound and vibration that hums beneath everything else, and when you attune yourself to that vibration, you are in tune with the universe (in theory, and likely in practice, too). The mantra is given to you by a master who is attuning your sound to your own harmonious pitch, if you will.
And thus we come to the notion of sacred or magic words. You can't really separate magic from religion in this sense, because both are seeking to bring about a change in something through means more subtle than direct action. They act upon that which is not obvious (therefore hidden, and therefore termed "occult", which means hidden). The transubstantiation of the Eucharist in a Mass--with its attendant words and vibrations--is not different in this sense from Enochian chanting or reciting mantras of purification.
Beyond the notion of sound, Goetia is an ancient address of something we've long sought to ignore--the "darker" side of our nature and death. Modern psychology will tell you that whatever "good" qualities or attributes you perceive in yourself, the opposite of those qualities also exists within you. When we look at serial killers or other monstrous sorts, we are horrified, and act as though the person were possessed by some outside devil or demon. However, it is an indication of the potential of our minds. We have the potential to do great things that benefit humankind, and we also have the gruesome potential of destruction. If we have one, we have the other. If one engages in Jungian therapy, one inevitably confronts their "shadow"--the repressed side of ourselves that we try to pretend isn't there. Looking away from the shadow is a problem, and I think it's the real meaning of C.S. Lewis's statement (paraphrased), "the devil would like you to believe he doesn't exist".
If one looks at the attributes of ancient underworld demons, they are never totally evil. They are often monstrous and horrific, but their function is often one of punishment. If one breaks an oath, or kills a parent, there are specific underworld deities that will torment you (according to the ancient Greek tradition, as well as others). This sounds tremendously like the notion of "conscience". If you feel no guilt or no suffering for your bad actions--if you have no demons to punish you--then you are a sociopath. Of course, sociopaths do have demons; they are just so effectively repressed that they have taken over. They no longer serve the function of discrimination.
Western Biblical mythology goes something like this: Man was perfect (meaning all good and innocent). Then he ate from the tree of knowledge, and became corrupt (sinful--not innocent). The soul's journey, therefore, is about attaining "perfection"--trying to reach the state we were in prior to the Fall. In the monotheistic doctrines, this means obedience to God (and in the case of Christians, accepting Jesus as the link back to perfection). Those who are highly imperfect are said to be influenced by the Devil. You notice that this battle goes on outside the person--things attack from the outside, not from the inside. Ironically, there is a dualism that is created, even though dualism is shunned by monotheistic religions. You are still waging the Zoroastrian battle of good versus evil.
The point of recognizing the notion of goetia and its role in our lives is to integrate our dark sides, not try to repress or destroy them. They have a function. To think of them as "external" is a mistake--you are not really separate from the "external". That doesn't mean one should engage in goetic ritual--I wouldn't advise such a thing unless someone was working with someone experienced, and assuming that's the path you want to take to negotiate those darker parts of the collective soul. Because it is repressed in most of us, it is unconscious--and you are essentially swimming in the dark if you take it on without preparation. But you can no more avoid your own "darker" traits than you can have a life where everything goes your way. It's part of the journey of self-discovery, and awareness is the key to everything.
Monday, January 03, 2011
A January Ramble
Nothing like the last day of vacation to make you feel rushed.
I'm not entirely sure why it is that we feel we haven't done enough during productive times. I've spent my winter break doing lots of things--walking 4-6 miles a day, teaching a class, getting my closets cleaned after months, etc. Yet I still feel I have to finish every other house project that needs to be done, and have failed because I haven't. It's probably like driving a car--you start off slowly, gain momentum, go speeding down that hill--and then suddenly have to hit the breaks, which is quite jarring. I have to hit the breaks and stop even though I still have a ways to go.
The other problem is that those projects you successfully ignored for months now stick out like huge ugly zits. You can't IMAGINE how you lived every day with your closets in disarray, or with unfiled papers. It's just UNBEARABLE.
Yet, by next week, I'll have forgotten all about it. Come to think of it, I believe it is a new year's phenomenon. Purely a hallucination in this case, and created by an illusion in nature. You see, where I live, the beginning of the year is often a reasonably warm day, even if it's been cold all month. This January was not an exception--it reached 50 degrees Fahrenheit on the 1st. Winter has just gotten started, but the days are already a teensy bit longer. This tricks your brain into thinking: "Spring!" And of course--Spring is about longer days, pretty flowers, warming up and going out. The ancient Celts considered Yule to be the middle of winter, not the beginning--Halloween was the beginning. If you think about it, that makes a bit more sense. After all, the days get darker and darker after Halloween. By Yule, they start to get lighter and lighter, until February 2 (Imbolc), when it's light enough in the early morning to go out without an artificial light source. And--for the Celts, February 2 was the beginning of Spring.
However, the reality is that we probably have many cold, snowy days ahead, even with global warming. While we may enjoy being at home, it starts to feel like a prison after awhile if we can't get out and do things. Humans are social creatures, in spite of any self-serving tendencies we may have, and too much time in isolation--even with family or a loved one--will start to affect you after a period of time.
It seems to me that in years past, I'd read about January as being a high suicide month. Christmastime is also a high-suicide time, but for different reasons, more than likely. I wonder if this January burst of energy that is suddenly curtailed makes the depressed feel more hopeless. It's easy to see how that could happen.
I was on the phone with a friend I haven't seen in at least 3 years yesterday. She mentioned that according to quantum physics, the human body "flashes" on and off like a strobe light 186,000 times a day. It happens so fast and in such minute pockets that we don't notice it. But she wondered--where do we go when we flash "off"? Somehow, we're not here when that happens.
Things like this are good illustrations of why the mind can't comprehend its own existence. The more science uncovers, the stranger it gets. It's also a good illustration of how we are not as "real" as we think we are. We are here one fraction of a millisecond, and gone the next--then back again. So is the whole world. We can never really "know" it. We can only point to it, because it's not possible to analyze and interpret it in the way that we can analyze and interpret a math problem or fix a kitchen sink.
I wake up this morning, aware that I have to go to a doctor's appointment, and get to the bank and post office. I look out my front windows to watch the sun rise while having breakfast, a sense of slowing down and relaxing, while I can feel my head and stomach spinning with the list of things I have to "get cracking" on as soon as possible. There is an interesting juxtaposition that occurs when you are quietly in a moment, and yet your mind is freaking out about it, like it's a separate person in your house nagging you to get moving in a thousand different directions at once. I think I know now why the Hindus and Buddhists say you need to get rid of the mind.
I paid my mortgage yesterday, and realized that I had less than $100 left in my bank account, with at least 3 things that still need to be paid this week. I figured I could scrape by with another $85. My parents came over to help finish a house project yesterday, and my Mom was very excited about having recently won some money with one of those lottery scratchoffs--a pretty nice little sum. She had just collected her money, and promptly handed me $100 because it was "found money". So--there's lesson 2 for the new year--you always get what you need.
Ah well, off to get showered and go to the doctor's...
I'm not entirely sure why it is that we feel we haven't done enough during productive times. I've spent my winter break doing lots of things--walking 4-6 miles a day, teaching a class, getting my closets cleaned after months, etc. Yet I still feel I have to finish every other house project that needs to be done, and have failed because I haven't. It's probably like driving a car--you start off slowly, gain momentum, go speeding down that hill--and then suddenly have to hit the breaks, which is quite jarring. I have to hit the breaks and stop even though I still have a ways to go.
The other problem is that those projects you successfully ignored for months now stick out like huge ugly zits. You can't IMAGINE how you lived every day with your closets in disarray, or with unfiled papers. It's just UNBEARABLE.
Yet, by next week, I'll have forgotten all about it. Come to think of it, I believe it is a new year's phenomenon. Purely a hallucination in this case, and created by an illusion in nature. You see, where I live, the beginning of the year is often a reasonably warm day, even if it's been cold all month. This January was not an exception--it reached 50 degrees Fahrenheit on the 1st. Winter has just gotten started, but the days are already a teensy bit longer. This tricks your brain into thinking: "Spring!" And of course--Spring is about longer days, pretty flowers, warming up and going out. The ancient Celts considered Yule to be the middle of winter, not the beginning--Halloween was the beginning. If you think about it, that makes a bit more sense. After all, the days get darker and darker after Halloween. By Yule, they start to get lighter and lighter, until February 2 (Imbolc), when it's light enough in the early morning to go out without an artificial light source. And--for the Celts, February 2 was the beginning of Spring.
However, the reality is that we probably have many cold, snowy days ahead, even with global warming. While we may enjoy being at home, it starts to feel like a prison after awhile if we can't get out and do things. Humans are social creatures, in spite of any self-serving tendencies we may have, and too much time in isolation--even with family or a loved one--will start to affect you after a period of time.
It seems to me that in years past, I'd read about January as being a high suicide month. Christmastime is also a high-suicide time, but for different reasons, more than likely. I wonder if this January burst of energy that is suddenly curtailed makes the depressed feel more hopeless. It's easy to see how that could happen.
I was on the phone with a friend I haven't seen in at least 3 years yesterday. She mentioned that according to quantum physics, the human body "flashes" on and off like a strobe light 186,000 times a day. It happens so fast and in such minute pockets that we don't notice it. But she wondered--where do we go when we flash "off"? Somehow, we're not here when that happens.
Things like this are good illustrations of why the mind can't comprehend its own existence. The more science uncovers, the stranger it gets. It's also a good illustration of how we are not as "real" as we think we are. We are here one fraction of a millisecond, and gone the next--then back again. So is the whole world. We can never really "know" it. We can only point to it, because it's not possible to analyze and interpret it in the way that we can analyze and interpret a math problem or fix a kitchen sink.
I wake up this morning, aware that I have to go to a doctor's appointment, and get to the bank and post office. I look out my front windows to watch the sun rise while having breakfast, a sense of slowing down and relaxing, while I can feel my head and stomach spinning with the list of things I have to "get cracking" on as soon as possible. There is an interesting juxtaposition that occurs when you are quietly in a moment, and yet your mind is freaking out about it, like it's a separate person in your house nagging you to get moving in a thousand different directions at once. I think I know now why the Hindus and Buddhists say you need to get rid of the mind.
I paid my mortgage yesterday, and realized that I had less than $100 left in my bank account, with at least 3 things that still need to be paid this week. I figured I could scrape by with another $85. My parents came over to help finish a house project yesterday, and my Mom was very excited about having recently won some money with one of those lottery scratchoffs--a pretty nice little sum. She had just collected her money, and promptly handed me $100 because it was "found money". So--there's lesson 2 for the new year--you always get what you need.
Ah well, off to get showered and go to the doctor's...
Friday, December 31, 2010
Profane Words
It's no secret that I'm very immersed in religion, even if it's in a non-personal-Deity kind of way. And in spite of my criticism of religion, I tend to think that all the world's religions have something to offer. I think atheism has something to offer as well.
However, over the years, I've noticed that I have more and more irritation towards the name "Jesus". Before you call for the exorcist, I should tell you that I know the root cause of the irritation, and it's hardly demons. It's profane over-use.
I did a Google search on "Jesus name profane", and came up with all sorts of invectives from various places that "the name of Jesus shall not be profaned". Which is ironic, because the name of Jesus is profaned all the time. And I think it's why I--and many other people--don't really want to hear it anymore.
It was once said that if you say the same thing over and over again enough times, people will believe it. Perhaps that is a missionary tactic of evangelicals. It might not be a good place to mention that this was said by Adolph Hitler. But there is truth to it.
We like to think that we're sharp enough to evade propaganda. But not when the propaganda sounds like our worldview. If it's close enough, then we consider it plausible. And unfortunately, the name of Jesus has been used a lot as propaganda--and as a propagator of fear. Yes, I know that this has nothing to do with the message or mission of Jesus. But if words are powerful, so are associations. When you start to associate a sacred name with hucksters trying to get your money, to sell you "miracle Bible oil", to spread lies and prejudice about marginalized groups--it's really hard to taste the sweetness of the name. It's like beer that 's gone "skunky".
I get that people are moved in very devotional ways. I'm not against that, if it is meaningful to you. But often times there is a lot of phony grandstanding in the name of religion--usually Christian religion in this country. And it's not inspiring; it's nauseating.
I never really believed in the sacred/profane split until I considered this. Some things really need to be left in the holiest of places.
I've studied most of the world's religions. My spiritual path has taken me to some obscure places. Out of every type of prayer, meditation, and ritual that I've engaged in, there's only one experience that I've found to be genuinely profound in a spiritual sense. There were no visions of any gods or teachers, no angels singing. It was an experience of nothing. Silence. The closest thing I can liken it to is what Teresa of Avila called "the prayer of quiet". There wasn't any need for words or incantations, though the vibration of certain words can bring you to that quiet state. In this state, the Buddhist notion of "living in the present" makes sense in a way that can't be described. It sounds inconsequential, but it isn't--the impact of the experience is astounding; the world never looks the same after that.
Perhaps I am thinking of this because I had that first experience 8 years ago today. And I always think back to it when I get too overwhelmed by my life obligations.
On a different note--I've updated the bbfiction blog in the past week with a couple new poems. You can check them out here if you haven't already.
And with that, this is my last post of 2010. Everyone enjoy New Year's Eve. I plan to spend mine visiting friends in the afternoon, then drinking wine and playing Scrabble with my mother. If that sounds lame, I would argue that standing around Times Square with 1 million drunks, or sitting in a crowded restaurant or club with a bunch of drunks does not fit my notion of a "good time". The last time I planned to celebrate New Year's Eve in a big way was when I was in London 2 years ago. Then I got the flu, and that put an end to that. Spent all of New Year's Day sleeping, punctuated by searches for orange juice. Perhaps I am just getting old.
Of course, with every year that passes--never mind every day--we're all getting older. Happy new year!
However, over the years, I've noticed that I have more and more irritation towards the name "Jesus". Before you call for the exorcist, I should tell you that I know the root cause of the irritation, and it's hardly demons. It's profane over-use.
I did a Google search on "Jesus name profane", and came up with all sorts of invectives from various places that "the name of Jesus shall not be profaned". Which is ironic, because the name of Jesus is profaned all the time. And I think it's why I--and many other people--don't really want to hear it anymore.
It was once said that if you say the same thing over and over again enough times, people will believe it. Perhaps that is a missionary tactic of evangelicals. It might not be a good place to mention that this was said by Adolph Hitler. But there is truth to it.
We like to think that we're sharp enough to evade propaganda. But not when the propaganda sounds like our worldview. If it's close enough, then we consider it plausible. And unfortunately, the name of Jesus has been used a lot as propaganda--and as a propagator of fear. Yes, I know that this has nothing to do with the message or mission of Jesus. But if words are powerful, so are associations. When you start to associate a sacred name with hucksters trying to get your money, to sell you "miracle Bible oil", to spread lies and prejudice about marginalized groups--it's really hard to taste the sweetness of the name. It's like beer that 's gone "skunky".
I get that people are moved in very devotional ways. I'm not against that, if it is meaningful to you. But often times there is a lot of phony grandstanding in the name of religion--usually Christian religion in this country. And it's not inspiring; it's nauseating.
I never really believed in the sacred/profane split until I considered this. Some things really need to be left in the holiest of places.
I've studied most of the world's religions. My spiritual path has taken me to some obscure places. Out of every type of prayer, meditation, and ritual that I've engaged in, there's only one experience that I've found to be genuinely profound in a spiritual sense. There were no visions of any gods or teachers, no angels singing. It was an experience of nothing. Silence. The closest thing I can liken it to is what Teresa of Avila called "the prayer of quiet". There wasn't any need for words or incantations, though the vibration of certain words can bring you to that quiet state. In this state, the Buddhist notion of "living in the present" makes sense in a way that can't be described. It sounds inconsequential, but it isn't--the impact of the experience is astounding; the world never looks the same after that.
Perhaps I am thinking of this because I had that first experience 8 years ago today. And I always think back to it when I get too overwhelmed by my life obligations.
On a different note--I've updated the bbfiction blog in the past week with a couple new poems. You can check them out here if you haven't already.
And with that, this is my last post of 2010. Everyone enjoy New Year's Eve. I plan to spend mine visiting friends in the afternoon, then drinking wine and playing Scrabble with my mother. If that sounds lame, I would argue that standing around Times Square with 1 million drunks, or sitting in a crowded restaurant or club with a bunch of drunks does not fit my notion of a "good time". The last time I planned to celebrate New Year's Eve in a big way was when I was in London 2 years ago. Then I got the flu, and that put an end to that. Spent all of New Year's Day sleeping, punctuated by searches for orange juice. Perhaps I am just getting old.
Of course, with every year that passes--never mind every day--we're all getting older. Happy new year!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Iron
My dresser drawer was starting to remind me of the cat's toy basket this week. The stuff on top was well-used, while the stuff at the bottom was almost forgotten. With my cat, I try to be egalitarian about the toys, and I occasionally rotate the bottom toys to the top, so that nothing is neglected. With my clothes it is not so simple; everything at the bottom has been there so long, it needs to be ironed to make it presentable. So, it had become inevitable that I would have to begin hours of ironing to reclaim my wardrobe.
While ironing, I brought my Macbook upstairs so I could watch some Ghost Hunters re-runs. There was some discussion a few weeks back about their last show, that featured the Real Housewives of Atlanta (one of many mind-numbing reality shows on TV these days). The producers really seem to have jumped the shark with this one; while the investigation wasn't a total catastrophe, it was hardly their shining moment. Even the TAPS members seemed rather tentative and uneasy with the arrangement, but were clearly making the best of it.
In the midst of discussion about this, someone asked me if anyone ever saw or heard anything remotely like a ghost on this show. The answer is yes. For your convenience, I've made a list of the stand-out episodes in this category, mostly from the first 3 seasons, which I will now share with you:
Race Rock Lighthouse--an empty chair in an unoccupied room slides across the floor--twice.
Eastern State Penitentiary--full body apparition caught on upper floors (This is the original episode from Season 1--the "Dude, Run!" episode)
Crescent Hotel--Full body apparition caught on thermal cam.
Ellis Home--weird psychedelic light show between the owner of the house (who's a medium) and Jason Hawes.
St. Augustine Lighthouse--voices, shadows, and a full-body apparition looking over the railing at the camera.
Stanley Hotel--Jason's closet door opens and shuts by itself, and the glass on his nightstand cracks from the inside by itself. Also--a table and chair lifts up and drops by itself.
Bird Cage Theater--A cord unravels itself from the bell it's wrapped around and hits the floor.
Leap Castle--Dustin Pari gets picked up and thrown to the ground by the Elemental that is supposed to haunt the place.
Lisheen Ruins--Weird figures show up on thermal cam, and a ghostly face appears on camera--the same face seen by Irish investigator Barry FitzGerald.
Northern State Hospital--apparition steps out, and then back into the darkness on camera. Plus you hear eerie singing in the attic.
Lullaby Lane--crazy electronic voice phenomena--responds directly to questions.
Gibbons House--full body apparition rises out of the floor and walks away.
Fort Mifflin--more creepy electronic voice phenomena. One voice asks for a drink of water after seeing a sound guy drinking from a bottle of water.
Ah, ghosts. On a tangentially-related note, I was reading an article on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and the stages of death (and grieving). She is famous for the traditional "5 steps" in the grieving process (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). Psychologists have taken this pretty literally, and as the article points out (and Kubler-Ross herself), that the neat packaging of the process in this manner belies its complexity. There is a sense that grief is linear, that we move forward or backward, when in fact this is not how loss manifests itself at all.
Nor anything else, for that matter.
While ironing, I brought my Macbook upstairs so I could watch some Ghost Hunters re-runs. There was some discussion a few weeks back about their last show, that featured the Real Housewives of Atlanta (one of many mind-numbing reality shows on TV these days). The producers really seem to have jumped the shark with this one; while the investigation wasn't a total catastrophe, it was hardly their shining moment. Even the TAPS members seemed rather tentative and uneasy with the arrangement, but were clearly making the best of it.
In the midst of discussion about this, someone asked me if anyone ever saw or heard anything remotely like a ghost on this show. The answer is yes. For your convenience, I've made a list of the stand-out episodes in this category, mostly from the first 3 seasons, which I will now share with you:
Race Rock Lighthouse--an empty chair in an unoccupied room slides across the floor--twice.
Eastern State Penitentiary--full body apparition caught on upper floors (This is the original episode from Season 1--the "Dude, Run!" episode)
Crescent Hotel--Full body apparition caught on thermal cam.
Ellis Home--weird psychedelic light show between the owner of the house (who's a medium) and Jason Hawes.
St. Augustine Lighthouse--voices, shadows, and a full-body apparition looking over the railing at the camera.
Stanley Hotel--Jason's closet door opens and shuts by itself, and the glass on his nightstand cracks from the inside by itself. Also--a table and chair lifts up and drops by itself.
Bird Cage Theater--A cord unravels itself from the bell it's wrapped around and hits the floor.
Leap Castle--Dustin Pari gets picked up and thrown to the ground by the Elemental that is supposed to haunt the place.
Lisheen Ruins--Weird figures show up on thermal cam, and a ghostly face appears on camera--the same face seen by Irish investigator Barry FitzGerald.
Northern State Hospital--apparition steps out, and then back into the darkness on camera. Plus you hear eerie singing in the attic.
Lullaby Lane--crazy electronic voice phenomena--responds directly to questions.
Gibbons House--full body apparition rises out of the floor and walks away.
Fort Mifflin--more creepy electronic voice phenomena. One voice asks for a drink of water after seeing a sound guy drinking from a bottle of water.
Ah, ghosts. On a tangentially-related note, I was reading an article on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and the stages of death (and grieving). She is famous for the traditional "5 steps" in the grieving process (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). Psychologists have taken this pretty literally, and as the article points out (and Kubler-Ross herself), that the neat packaging of the process in this manner belies its complexity. There is a sense that grief is linear, that we move forward or backward, when in fact this is not how loss manifests itself at all.
Nor anything else, for that matter.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
At the Threshold of Year's End
Yesterday I visited a childhood friend at her parents' retirement house, which is only 25 miles from where I live. Sitting in the dining room drinking tea, our conversation drifted across many topics--what we'd been doing over the last couple of years, what became of certain family members and friends. There was a curious blending of the past and the future in this comfortable threshold of the present. I was reminded of the fact that this was the family that shaped my childhood more than my own family. In my own family I was largely an outsider--6 years younger than my youngest sibling. My father was always working, and my mother too busy running around trying to keep tabs on the 5 of us.
By contrast, it seemed my friend's family was always going out doing interesting things, visiting new places. As I got older, I realized that they drank a lot of wine. I admired them for this. My family never drank. Sounds strange, but I have a great appreciation for good beer and wine. This interest of mine has never set quite well with my family, who have an underlying belief that anyone who enjoys alcohol is destined to be an alcoholic. Sure, they dip in themselves once in awhile, but it's pretty rare. It's odd when you consider that my father is of Irish/English descent, and my mother of Eastern European descent. Of course, my mother saw marriages and families within her own family ripped apart by drinking and its abuse, so perhaps her attitude is not so surprising. And my father's grandfather died of wood alcohol poisoning during Prohibition.
Really, though, it's not just the enjoyment of beer or wine--it's pretty much everything. I've always felt a bit out of step with everyone else in the family. And over the years I've learned not to be concerned about it. This annoys my mother, who feels I should put family first. Often I do, but generally speaking, there's no point. I don't consider this a problem. If my family had been more attentive to my life course, and we had ended up being more close-knit and traditional overall, maybe my life would have been a lot different, and I wouldn't want that. It was a wonderful moment when I suddenly realized that I didn't have to do things based on what others might think of me. There was no need to do what I was supposed to do by societal or familial decree. There's wonderful freedom in that, and also great responsibility.
In the course of my conversation with my friend, she mentioned a trip she took with friends to Berlin and Paris, once again whetting my appetite for Europe. She's heading for Umbria in Italy sometime this summer. I'm looking at financial logistics, and by Fall 2011, a week in Paris might not be out of the question. Still--too soon to say. But I was happy to be reminded that I should move forward, even when we'd been looking backward.
In the meantime, I'm still purging away. Got rid of 5 years worth of old papers, and I'm still cleaning out closets and drawers. This is an almost-vacation week for me (I still have an online class to teach). As the week progresses, I'm not sure if I'm getting lazier or just more relaxed. I find myself following the cat's example, and curling up in my bed for most of the day. I do have visits with friends, but not every day. Nonetheless, I have to snap out of it for at least some time, and get some writing, grading, and chores finished. Money is still tight, so I'm resisting the urge to go out. The recent snowstorm--which hardly affected us at all--has brought New York and East Jersey to a standstill. While not good for residents of those towns, it's been good for me--I have a reason not to go there.
I read today that New York City had a "good riddance" day--where they wrote down things they wanted to get rid of, and put it in a big ceremonial pile to be shredded. This is a great idea, and no better time for such a mass effort than the end of Mercury Retrograde (ends tomorrow, the 30th). 2010 has not been the greatest of years overall, though it did have its high points. I've never felt myself in more of a crunch than I have this year financially--not for at least 15 years.
On the other hand--I was going through some New Yorker magazines that I've allowed to stack up, and one had an article on North Koreans who defected to Yinji in China. One girl told her story--she was her family's one hope educationally, so they'd saved their money to send her to college. Then in one stroke--the North Korean government devalued their currency, and gave citizens 24 hours to cash in their won (North Korean money). In the end, the girl's family had only 15 dollars left to their name. Between that and the rampant starvation among the people there--I realized that my material difficulties in no way matched theirs. Even among Americans I'm not that bad off--I have a full-time job with benefits, and have the opportunity to get extra work. Being frugal will get rid of my debts. Others are not so lucky.
Let's hope 2011 is better for everyone. Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu.
By contrast, it seemed my friend's family was always going out doing interesting things, visiting new places. As I got older, I realized that they drank a lot of wine. I admired them for this. My family never drank. Sounds strange, but I have a great appreciation for good beer and wine. This interest of mine has never set quite well with my family, who have an underlying belief that anyone who enjoys alcohol is destined to be an alcoholic. Sure, they dip in themselves once in awhile, but it's pretty rare. It's odd when you consider that my father is of Irish/English descent, and my mother of Eastern European descent. Of course, my mother saw marriages and families within her own family ripped apart by drinking and its abuse, so perhaps her attitude is not so surprising. And my father's grandfather died of wood alcohol poisoning during Prohibition.
Really, though, it's not just the enjoyment of beer or wine--it's pretty much everything. I've always felt a bit out of step with everyone else in the family. And over the years I've learned not to be concerned about it. This annoys my mother, who feels I should put family first. Often I do, but generally speaking, there's no point. I don't consider this a problem. If my family had been more attentive to my life course, and we had ended up being more close-knit and traditional overall, maybe my life would have been a lot different, and I wouldn't want that. It was a wonderful moment when I suddenly realized that I didn't have to do things based on what others might think of me. There was no need to do what I was supposed to do by societal or familial decree. There's wonderful freedom in that, and also great responsibility.
In the course of my conversation with my friend, she mentioned a trip she took with friends to Berlin and Paris, once again whetting my appetite for Europe. She's heading for Umbria in Italy sometime this summer. I'm looking at financial logistics, and by Fall 2011, a week in Paris might not be out of the question. Still--too soon to say. But I was happy to be reminded that I should move forward, even when we'd been looking backward.
In the meantime, I'm still purging away. Got rid of 5 years worth of old papers, and I'm still cleaning out closets and drawers. This is an almost-vacation week for me (I still have an online class to teach). As the week progresses, I'm not sure if I'm getting lazier or just more relaxed. I find myself following the cat's example, and curling up in my bed for most of the day. I do have visits with friends, but not every day. Nonetheless, I have to snap out of it for at least some time, and get some writing, grading, and chores finished. Money is still tight, so I'm resisting the urge to go out. The recent snowstorm--which hardly affected us at all--has brought New York and East Jersey to a standstill. While not good for residents of those towns, it's been good for me--I have a reason not to go there.
I read today that New York City had a "good riddance" day--where they wrote down things they wanted to get rid of, and put it in a big ceremonial pile to be shredded. This is a great idea, and no better time for such a mass effort than the end of Mercury Retrograde (ends tomorrow, the 30th). 2010 has not been the greatest of years overall, though it did have its high points. I've never felt myself in more of a crunch than I have this year financially--not for at least 15 years.
On the other hand--I was going through some New Yorker magazines that I've allowed to stack up, and one had an article on North Koreans who defected to Yinji in China. One girl told her story--she was her family's one hope educationally, so they'd saved their money to send her to college. Then in one stroke--the North Korean government devalued their currency, and gave citizens 24 hours to cash in their won (North Korean money). In the end, the girl's family had only 15 dollars left to their name. Between that and the rampant starvation among the people there--I realized that my material difficulties in no way matched theirs. Even among Americans I'm not that bad off--I have a full-time job with benefits, and have the opportunity to get extra work. Being frugal will get rid of my debts. Others are not so lucky.
Let's hope 2011 is better for everyone. Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Outcomes, or, The Universe is Way Smarter Than You (or I)
I have started about seven different blog posts since I wrote the last one. I can’t seem to finish any of them—if I can’t stand to re-read my text, or can’t get very far with it, I usually scrap it. If I’m bored by it, it’s likely you would be, too.
I love the silver and rose colored skies this time of year—especially at sunrise or sunset—but I can’t stand being outdoors. It’s been ridiculously cold this month—average January temperatures rather than December temperatures.
The day I was supposed to fly to London ended up being a snowy one in the UK—some places got a foot or more of snow, highly unusual. It is very likely that even if the Troxy gig went forward on that date, not many people would have made it. I’m not sure I would have made it—many flights were canceled. Chalk another event up to “the universe is way smarter than you” category. The snow enabled many Foxx fans with non-refundable arrangements to actually get refunds on account of the weather.
I had another John Foxx non-event that was similar—I was waffling on going to an exhibition opening in London that Foxx “might” be attending last April. I got no definite reply as to whether he’d be there, but my instincts told me not to go. I was upset when I learned that he actually did turn up—but as it happened, Eyjafjallajökull also erupted that weekend. It is likely I would have been stuck in London for quite some time with nowhere to go if I had made the trip. The universe is way smarter than you and me.
In reviewing some of my blog posts, I was reminded that I had made some predictions for 2010. I re-read them, and I would say none of them happened. Things exploded in a way I don’t think any sane person could have imagined in the U.S. Which shows you that I am much better at focusing on the present than to try to be prophetic. On the other hand—sometimes my predictions are only for me, even when I want them to be for everyone. So, I should go back again and see if they pertain to me at all.
It’s funny how we always want to know the outcomes of things before they happen. The whole uncertainty business leaves everyone feeling so very...well, uncertain. If you think about it, the fear of death is just another version of the fear of uncertainty. We have all sorts of metrics and reasoning tactics to determine the probable outcome of things. But that’s all it is—a probable outcome. We don’t really know, we just make logical guesses. And as I’ve mentioned hundreds of times before, life isn’t really all that logical.
Sometimes we cling to the past as a way of feeling comforted, a counterbalance to our fear of the future. Sometimes we look to others to predict the future. I think this is why psychics are so popular, in spite of any attempts to discredit them—if they consistently predict things with accuracy, then people feel there is a certain amount of reliability in their determination of the future. However—even during the years when research into ESP and psychic phenomena was fashionable, it was noted that the very best psychics were only accurate 80% of the time. So, you still have a 20% chance they will be dead wrong.
After meeting my guru and receiving a mantra from her, I noticed a common pattern in my life. An event would be coming up—I would plan for it, have expectations for it. I would even be sure about exactly how it would turn out, being I’d been to the same event before, did the same thing, etc., more than once. And then I would get there—everything would be screwed up, there would be many moments of panic—and then everything would turn out fine. Not as expected, but fine. Sometimes—the results of this whirlwind were better than expected.
So, you can probably see now why I don’t have a “5-year plan”, and why I don’t have expectations. Any plan I have must be flexible, because everything can change at a moment’s notice. And the more wedded you are to your expected outcome, the more freaked out you will become.
If you add this to the “universe is way smarter than you” factor—it’s as my guru says in 2 of the few English words that she knows—“Don’t worry”.
I love the silver and rose colored skies this time of year—especially at sunrise or sunset—but I can’t stand being outdoors. It’s been ridiculously cold this month—average January temperatures rather than December temperatures.
The day I was supposed to fly to London ended up being a snowy one in the UK—some places got a foot or more of snow, highly unusual. It is very likely that even if the Troxy gig went forward on that date, not many people would have made it. I’m not sure I would have made it—many flights were canceled. Chalk another event up to “the universe is way smarter than you” category. The snow enabled many Foxx fans with non-refundable arrangements to actually get refunds on account of the weather.
I had another John Foxx non-event that was similar—I was waffling on going to an exhibition opening in London that Foxx “might” be attending last April. I got no definite reply as to whether he’d be there, but my instincts told me not to go. I was upset when I learned that he actually did turn up—but as it happened, Eyjafjallajökull also erupted that weekend. It is likely I would have been stuck in London for quite some time with nowhere to go if I had made the trip. The universe is way smarter than you and me.
In reviewing some of my blog posts, I was reminded that I had made some predictions for 2010. I re-read them, and I would say none of them happened. Things exploded in a way I don’t think any sane person could have imagined in the U.S. Which shows you that I am much better at focusing on the present than to try to be prophetic. On the other hand—sometimes my predictions are only for me, even when I want them to be for everyone. So, I should go back again and see if they pertain to me at all.
It’s funny how we always want to know the outcomes of things before they happen. The whole uncertainty business leaves everyone feeling so very...well, uncertain. If you think about it, the fear of death is just another version of the fear of uncertainty. We have all sorts of metrics and reasoning tactics to determine the probable outcome of things. But that’s all it is—a probable outcome. We don’t really know, we just make logical guesses. And as I’ve mentioned hundreds of times before, life isn’t really all that logical.
Sometimes we cling to the past as a way of feeling comforted, a counterbalance to our fear of the future. Sometimes we look to others to predict the future. I think this is why psychics are so popular, in spite of any attempts to discredit them—if they consistently predict things with accuracy, then people feel there is a certain amount of reliability in their determination of the future. However—even during the years when research into ESP and psychic phenomena was fashionable, it was noted that the very best psychics were only accurate 80% of the time. So, you still have a 20% chance they will be dead wrong.
After meeting my guru and receiving a mantra from her, I noticed a common pattern in my life. An event would be coming up—I would plan for it, have expectations for it. I would even be sure about exactly how it would turn out, being I’d been to the same event before, did the same thing, etc., more than once. And then I would get there—everything would be screwed up, there would be many moments of panic—and then everything would turn out fine. Not as expected, but fine. Sometimes—the results of this whirlwind were better than expected.
So, you can probably see now why I don’t have a “5-year plan”, and why I don’t have expectations. Any plan I have must be flexible, because everything can change at a moment’s notice. And the more wedded you are to your expected outcome, the more freaked out you will become.
If you add this to the “universe is way smarter than you” factor—it’s as my guru says in 2 of the few English words that she knows—“Don’t worry”.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
John Foxx at the Troxy
Raise your hand if you read the title of this post and thought that somehow this gig was rescheduled earlier and you missed it. Good. Now put your hands down. I can't see them anyway.
You didn't miss anything. The gig has indeed been postponed until April. Another dark spot in an already dark year. So what of my title? This isn't a review of a show, it's more of a review of the postponement. Or, at least my thoughts since hearing the gig was postponed.
On the Metamatic forum, there is a lot of discussion about a re-release of John Foxx and Louis Gordon's "Sideways" and "Crash and Burn" albums. I am frequently amused at how such forum threads take on a theological air. The devout raging against the heretics. We are not here to question the good things John Foxx has wrought. Others argue it is not wrong to question--how do you come into relationship with John Foxx if the conversation only has one side?
Of course, I'm speaking figuratively about John Foxx here. John Foxx the electronica god, in his black shirt, trousers, and jacket with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Always smiling and magnanimous towards his faithful brethren. And amidst the flurry of autograph seekers, photo takers, and fans looking to shake his hand and testify to his genius, the question always arises from the chaos: Why are you here? John has asked me that question many times before, though it's less of a question, more of a statement. "Brigid, I can't believe you've traveled so far for this." Or, "I hope this has been worth your trip."
Last year around this time, John did a gig in Bath. At the pub afterwards, he was making his rounds and sat across from me, arms folded, looking at me with an interrogative look in his eyes, as though he was going to penetrate my thoughts, dammit. He was going to figure out the mystery of why I come so far. (And he wanted to know something else too, but that's another story). My response to both types of insinuation was to smile politely, shrug and say nothing. I could tell from the exasperated eye-roll that I got from him that this was not the response he was looking for. But it couldn't be helped. There are no short answers, and the pub at midnight in the middle of a pre-Christmas party was hardly the place for discussion.
All that is last year's news, but it does bring me back to the question. I asked myself that question when I made my travel arrangements in September, in spite of my precarious financial position. Why are you going, Brigid? People have defended my going with lots of answers, all of them good points, but none of them the real answer.
In interviews, John will make the distinction between John Foxx and Dennis Leigh, as though they are two separate people. John Foxx is his public persona. The electronica god mentioned above--calm, cool, self-assured, and handsome. To hear him tell it, Dennis Leigh is apparently some teeming flaw colony, or at least terribly uninteresting, and he doesn't want people to see that. I find the split fascinating, because he often thinks his "John" disguise is impenetrable. As a matter of fact, it isn't--I've seen a lot of Dennis Leigh. And that's why I go to England so often.
Now, if John reads this, he will no doubt protest this point. He will swear that I don't know him that well, and that I certainly don't know "Dennis Leigh". And on this point, he would be wrong. No, that's too judgmental--he would be mistaken.
I read a book in one of my undergraduate Shakespeare courses called "The Daughter of Time" by Josephine Tey (pen name for Elizabeth Mackintosh). It's a mystery story--the basic plot involves a Scotland Yard detective that knows all the history of Richard III, but when he looks at Richard's portrait, he knows that he could not have committed the atrocities attributed to him, and then he attempts to solve the mystery of who really was to blame. Mackintosh was like me--a bit of an amateur psychologist, and fascinated with portraits, facial expressions, movement of the eyes, and body language. In short, a person can say nothing and tell you everything; or, if not everything, at least a sufficient amount.
John Foxx is like a cloudy day to me. The clouds may be beautifully and astonishingly arranged, but I'm delighted when the sun peeks from behind the clouds--even if it's just for a second. The man who comes in breathless from the train station, hair askew from the wind, dressed in his corduroy trousers, a large glob of earwax visible in his ear. The man who drops a cup of coffee with shaky hands. The man who is taken by surprise and makes a comment, a facial expression, a gesture that is out of line with the neatly presented image. The man who, in his surprise at seeing me, says things that I wouldn't expect him to say. While John Foxx's impeccable appearance and beautiful live performances are wonderful, I am more taken in by the beauty of the unscripted, unprompted, and off-guard man. I care for the real man more than the external packaging. The plain old Dennis Leigh, art college graduate and son of a coal miner, without all the special effects. And--I should add--the "old" man. While he was a beautiful young man, I have no yearning for him to return to his youth. He's beautiful as he is now.
You may read all this and have a protest of your own. Yes, but WHY? Why would you fly 3,700 miles, spend hundreds of dollars, stand on your feet for 40 hours, just to talk to John for a few minutes here and there? Because honestly, I could watch a DVD or listen to a CD if it was just about the music (or the art), and save my money. To answer that, I'm going to quote the wisdom of the Rolling Stones: You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need.
Clear as mud, right? I will say this--I have never gone to see John expecting anything, and always end up with way more than I expect. In fact--if I review the last 2+ years I've been going to see him, I'm quite amazed at how things have developed. If you'd told me about all the events that would transpire between then and now at that time, I would have said you were crazy. Which proves my point that sometimes it's good to be crazy. Life is not logical.
You didn't miss anything. The gig has indeed been postponed until April. Another dark spot in an already dark year. So what of my title? This isn't a review of a show, it's more of a review of the postponement. Or, at least my thoughts since hearing the gig was postponed.
On the Metamatic forum, there is a lot of discussion about a re-release of John Foxx and Louis Gordon's "Sideways" and "Crash and Burn" albums. I am frequently amused at how such forum threads take on a theological air. The devout raging against the heretics. We are not here to question the good things John Foxx has wrought. Others argue it is not wrong to question--how do you come into relationship with John Foxx if the conversation only has one side?
Of course, I'm speaking figuratively about John Foxx here. John Foxx the electronica god, in his black shirt, trousers, and jacket with his silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Always smiling and magnanimous towards his faithful brethren. And amidst the flurry of autograph seekers, photo takers, and fans looking to shake his hand and testify to his genius, the question always arises from the chaos: Why are you here? John has asked me that question many times before, though it's less of a question, more of a statement. "Brigid, I can't believe you've traveled so far for this." Or, "I hope this has been worth your trip."
Last year around this time, John did a gig in Bath. At the pub afterwards, he was making his rounds and sat across from me, arms folded, looking at me with an interrogative look in his eyes, as though he was going to penetrate my thoughts, dammit. He was going to figure out the mystery of why I come so far. (And he wanted to know something else too, but that's another story). My response to both types of insinuation was to smile politely, shrug and say nothing. I could tell from the exasperated eye-roll that I got from him that this was not the response he was looking for. But it couldn't be helped. There are no short answers, and the pub at midnight in the middle of a pre-Christmas party was hardly the place for discussion.
All that is last year's news, but it does bring me back to the question. I asked myself that question when I made my travel arrangements in September, in spite of my precarious financial position. Why are you going, Brigid? People have defended my going with lots of answers, all of them good points, but none of them the real answer.
In interviews, John will make the distinction between John Foxx and Dennis Leigh, as though they are two separate people. John Foxx is his public persona. The electronica god mentioned above--calm, cool, self-assured, and handsome. To hear him tell it, Dennis Leigh is apparently some teeming flaw colony, or at least terribly uninteresting, and he doesn't want people to see that. I find the split fascinating, because he often thinks his "John" disguise is impenetrable. As a matter of fact, it isn't--I've seen a lot of Dennis Leigh. And that's why I go to England so often.
Now, if John reads this, he will no doubt protest this point. He will swear that I don't know him that well, and that I certainly don't know "Dennis Leigh". And on this point, he would be wrong. No, that's too judgmental--he would be mistaken.
I read a book in one of my undergraduate Shakespeare courses called "The Daughter of Time" by Josephine Tey (pen name for Elizabeth Mackintosh). It's a mystery story--the basic plot involves a Scotland Yard detective that knows all the history of Richard III, but when he looks at Richard's portrait, he knows that he could not have committed the atrocities attributed to him, and then he attempts to solve the mystery of who really was to blame. Mackintosh was like me--a bit of an amateur psychologist, and fascinated with portraits, facial expressions, movement of the eyes, and body language. In short, a person can say nothing and tell you everything; or, if not everything, at least a sufficient amount.
John Foxx is like a cloudy day to me. The clouds may be beautifully and astonishingly arranged, but I'm delighted when the sun peeks from behind the clouds--even if it's just for a second. The man who comes in breathless from the train station, hair askew from the wind, dressed in his corduroy trousers, a large glob of earwax visible in his ear. The man who drops a cup of coffee with shaky hands. The man who is taken by surprise and makes a comment, a facial expression, a gesture that is out of line with the neatly presented image. The man who, in his surprise at seeing me, says things that I wouldn't expect him to say. While John Foxx's impeccable appearance and beautiful live performances are wonderful, I am more taken in by the beauty of the unscripted, unprompted, and off-guard man. I care for the real man more than the external packaging. The plain old Dennis Leigh, art college graduate and son of a coal miner, without all the special effects. And--I should add--the "old" man. While he was a beautiful young man, I have no yearning for him to return to his youth. He's beautiful as he is now.
You may read all this and have a protest of your own. Yes, but WHY? Why would you fly 3,700 miles, spend hundreds of dollars, stand on your feet for 40 hours, just to talk to John for a few minutes here and there? Because honestly, I could watch a DVD or listen to a CD if it was just about the music (or the art), and save my money. To answer that, I'm going to quote the wisdom of the Rolling Stones: You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need.
Clear as mud, right? I will say this--I have never gone to see John expecting anything, and always end up with way more than I expect. In fact--if I review the last 2+ years I've been going to see him, I'm quite amazed at how things have developed. If you'd told me about all the events that would transpire between then and now at that time, I would have said you were crazy. Which proves my point that sometimes it's good to be crazy. Life is not logical.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Nouns
People in our culture have a fascination with the unseen. I have one too, but it occurs to me that we take the "seen" for granted. Or rather--how the seen reflects the unseen.
When I was in school, I was taught in language arts from the first grade onward that a noun was a "person, place, or a thing". When I got to high school, the definition was modified; a noun was now a "person, place, thing, or idea". The abstract had been introduced into the concrete.
I don't know when this change in definition officially occurred, or if it always was that way, but never stated explicitly. Whatever the case, it is true that our reality is made up of ideas in the 21st century. Ideas and numbers.
Money is an excellent example. When I get paid, I never see any physical money. It is directly deposited into my checking account. From there, it is electronically deposited into my creditors' accounts. Once I week I take out $100 in cash for my groceries, gasoline, and other expenses. And even the green twenty-dollar bills that spit out from the ATM machine are stand-ins for the "real" money, which still happens to be gold. The only reason it is gold is because someone decided that this was the most valuable of rocks a long time ago. And of course, someone decides the value.
I've never entirely understood the idea of "value". It seems to have something to do with supply and demand. For instance--if I own an LP in my record collection that I know is worth a lot of money, I may not get anything close to that if I sell it on eBay. Why? As my brother-in-law explained, "it's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it." How the value of rocks like gold is determined is a mystery to me. Is gold that scarce?
The whole system seems rather sketchy to me. It's a math game, and I'm not good at math. Basically, the number shown in my checking account must be higher than the number owed on my creditors' accounts. But there's no real money here. It's numbers being spit back and forth between computer servers. People have elaborate systems for increasing the numbers in their own accounts--many having to do with other hallucinations like stocks and bonds. Wall Street was built on such hallucinations. Alexander Hamilton had quite an imagination.
But now that world economies are falling like dominoes, you have to wonder even more about the system. I was chatting with a visiting art historian at our campus, an Irishman living in Cyprus. We were discussing the economic troubles of Ireland, and the likely EU bailout. His comment: "This is good for Ireland. They've based their economy on something transient for too long. They give all these breaks to companies to make them come there, when in an hour they can be somewhere else. They need to start over."
My tendency is to agree with him. But start over with what? Aren't most world economies based on the same thing to some degree? It will be interesting to see if something new--or a return to something old--is possible. People liked the new system because you could build a booming economy in a short time. Trouble is, you can lose everything just as quickly.
Back to the other kinds of nouns. It is ironic that in a world that is skeptical of what it cannot see, we are so out of touch with what we can see. Our lives are molded by this numerical hallucination we call the economy--you go to school, then you go to university, with the object of making a living--making money. Which, as we've discussed, is a numerical illusion. Besides the essentials, what do we need money for? Well, people with lots of money acquire a lot of stuff. If they are aficionados of something in particular, they may collect things related to that. But the stuff is often garish and gaudy. I hardly ever watch TV, but in the last 25 years, I've occasionally seen shows about the houses of the contemporary rich and famous. They all look the same, and all have the same uninspiring rooms full of expensive crap. A collection of stuff just for the sake of having it, for the sake of saying "Look, I'm wealthy!" Which translates in their minds as "Look, I'm successful!"
I don't think this is a healthy relationship to things. It may be funny to hear that from someone who practices a religion that says the material world is illusory. On some level, it is. But this is about connecting to the Earth, to Nature--and not just by being outdoors. As humans, we like to feel useful. We like to feel that what we produce--whether it's creative output or manufactured in some way--is useful to others. I think on some level, even the most selfish people have this desire, unless they're sociopaths. We want to contribute something to the world, and make a difference in the lives of others.
When a child is very small, he will often have a favorite stuffed toy that he or she carries around. They become very upset if they are separated from that toy. That toy is known in psychological parlance as a "transitional object". The child recognizes separation from the parents, and clings to the toy as a stand-in for parental comfort, especially when they are with babysitters or alone in their bed at night. At some point, the object is discarded, when it is no longer needed. It might be thrown out if it is really worn, or might be passed on to another child. The object becomes a subject. We interact with it; it has a meaning to us beyond any marketing hype at Christmastime.
I have always been impressed and awed by the simplest things. An exquisitely designed dinner plate. A well-made glass of wine. The smell of a fireplace in an old house. Even daily routines can be awe-inspiring experiences. Doing the dishes, raking the leaves, baking bread--I like to do these things myself because there's a certain pleasure involved. It's the interaction with things, doing them consciously. Or, as the Zen Buddhists would say, doing things with awareness. Looking at the stars at night, or looking at a beautiful sunrise, just for the sake of looking. If you're bored by these things, then you've lost something of your life. It is true that when we have too many things to do we become overwhelmed, and may want a break from all of it. But that's another problem--we rush around, worry about what we need to do next, rather than focusing on the present and taking our time. And often, individuals are not to blame; society demands it.
This sense of rushing, of needing to get ahead permeates my profession particularly, and I think it's to its detriment. I've attended three workshops on the new cataloging rules (RDA). What I'm being told is that description is no longer important; it's data. Data with which we can make lots of linkages to other data. Changing the way we do data is important, because we want to be part of this futuristic thing called "the Semantic Web". Our information is in "silos", and can only be accessed by going to individual library catalogs. The great irony here is that switching to a "Semantic Web" model and doing away with our very strict standard of description is going to make our information more inaccessible. Since there are few standards regarding entry, the librarians will be as lost as the users when they're trying to find things, because we can't be sure how the materials are being described. Sure, thesauri still exist for subjects, but which one is being used? Lately, library-land is trading its organizational principles for the chance to make some "neat" connections on the Web; connections which will be as overwhelming as the original keyword searches in the 1980s. The description is an art; making it fit the pre-defined rules makes it more of a challenge, though a necessary one if you want to be able to search catalogs nationally and internationally. But it will no longer be about describing the piece; it will be about "data" that's even more "meta".
But maybe they're right--in a world where people treat the world as an object, a means to an end, maybe no one wants description. Ideas are more important than things.
Still, I suspect that there's at least a nostalgia for the thingliness of things. Deep down people want that connection, even if they've forgotten how to make it. It's not hard, really. Just slow down and pay attention. And stop looking at the world as a means to an end.
When I was in school, I was taught in language arts from the first grade onward that a noun was a "person, place, or a thing". When I got to high school, the definition was modified; a noun was now a "person, place, thing, or idea". The abstract had been introduced into the concrete.
I don't know when this change in definition officially occurred, or if it always was that way, but never stated explicitly. Whatever the case, it is true that our reality is made up of ideas in the 21st century. Ideas and numbers.
Money is an excellent example. When I get paid, I never see any physical money. It is directly deposited into my checking account. From there, it is electronically deposited into my creditors' accounts. Once I week I take out $100 in cash for my groceries, gasoline, and other expenses. And even the green twenty-dollar bills that spit out from the ATM machine are stand-ins for the "real" money, which still happens to be gold. The only reason it is gold is because someone decided that this was the most valuable of rocks a long time ago. And of course, someone decides the value.
I've never entirely understood the idea of "value". It seems to have something to do with supply and demand. For instance--if I own an LP in my record collection that I know is worth a lot of money, I may not get anything close to that if I sell it on eBay. Why? As my brother-in-law explained, "it's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it." How the value of rocks like gold is determined is a mystery to me. Is gold that scarce?
The whole system seems rather sketchy to me. It's a math game, and I'm not good at math. Basically, the number shown in my checking account must be higher than the number owed on my creditors' accounts. But there's no real money here. It's numbers being spit back and forth between computer servers. People have elaborate systems for increasing the numbers in their own accounts--many having to do with other hallucinations like stocks and bonds. Wall Street was built on such hallucinations. Alexander Hamilton had quite an imagination.
But now that world economies are falling like dominoes, you have to wonder even more about the system. I was chatting with a visiting art historian at our campus, an Irishman living in Cyprus. We were discussing the economic troubles of Ireland, and the likely EU bailout. His comment: "This is good for Ireland. They've based their economy on something transient for too long. They give all these breaks to companies to make them come there, when in an hour they can be somewhere else. They need to start over."
My tendency is to agree with him. But start over with what? Aren't most world economies based on the same thing to some degree? It will be interesting to see if something new--or a return to something old--is possible. People liked the new system because you could build a booming economy in a short time. Trouble is, you can lose everything just as quickly.
Back to the other kinds of nouns. It is ironic that in a world that is skeptical of what it cannot see, we are so out of touch with what we can see. Our lives are molded by this numerical hallucination we call the economy--you go to school, then you go to university, with the object of making a living--making money. Which, as we've discussed, is a numerical illusion. Besides the essentials, what do we need money for? Well, people with lots of money acquire a lot of stuff. If they are aficionados of something in particular, they may collect things related to that. But the stuff is often garish and gaudy. I hardly ever watch TV, but in the last 25 years, I've occasionally seen shows about the houses of the contemporary rich and famous. They all look the same, and all have the same uninspiring rooms full of expensive crap. A collection of stuff just for the sake of having it, for the sake of saying "Look, I'm wealthy!" Which translates in their minds as "Look, I'm successful!"
I don't think this is a healthy relationship to things. It may be funny to hear that from someone who practices a religion that says the material world is illusory. On some level, it is. But this is about connecting to the Earth, to Nature--and not just by being outdoors. As humans, we like to feel useful. We like to feel that what we produce--whether it's creative output or manufactured in some way--is useful to others. I think on some level, even the most selfish people have this desire, unless they're sociopaths. We want to contribute something to the world, and make a difference in the lives of others.
When a child is very small, he will often have a favorite stuffed toy that he or she carries around. They become very upset if they are separated from that toy. That toy is known in psychological parlance as a "transitional object". The child recognizes separation from the parents, and clings to the toy as a stand-in for parental comfort, especially when they are with babysitters or alone in their bed at night. At some point, the object is discarded, when it is no longer needed. It might be thrown out if it is really worn, or might be passed on to another child. The object becomes a subject. We interact with it; it has a meaning to us beyond any marketing hype at Christmastime.
I have always been impressed and awed by the simplest things. An exquisitely designed dinner plate. A well-made glass of wine. The smell of a fireplace in an old house. Even daily routines can be awe-inspiring experiences. Doing the dishes, raking the leaves, baking bread--I like to do these things myself because there's a certain pleasure involved. It's the interaction with things, doing them consciously. Or, as the Zen Buddhists would say, doing things with awareness. Looking at the stars at night, or looking at a beautiful sunrise, just for the sake of looking. If you're bored by these things, then you've lost something of your life. It is true that when we have too many things to do we become overwhelmed, and may want a break from all of it. But that's another problem--we rush around, worry about what we need to do next, rather than focusing on the present and taking our time. And often, individuals are not to blame; society demands it.
This sense of rushing, of needing to get ahead permeates my profession particularly, and I think it's to its detriment. I've attended three workshops on the new cataloging rules (RDA). What I'm being told is that description is no longer important; it's data. Data with which we can make lots of linkages to other data. Changing the way we do data is important, because we want to be part of this futuristic thing called "the Semantic Web". Our information is in "silos", and can only be accessed by going to individual library catalogs. The great irony here is that switching to a "Semantic Web" model and doing away with our very strict standard of description is going to make our information more inaccessible. Since there are few standards regarding entry, the librarians will be as lost as the users when they're trying to find things, because we can't be sure how the materials are being described. Sure, thesauri still exist for subjects, but which one is being used? Lately, library-land is trading its organizational principles for the chance to make some "neat" connections on the Web; connections which will be as overwhelming as the original keyword searches in the 1980s. The description is an art; making it fit the pre-defined rules makes it more of a challenge, though a necessary one if you want to be able to search catalogs nationally and internationally. But it will no longer be about describing the piece; it will be about "data" that's even more "meta".
But maybe they're right--in a world where people treat the world as an object, a means to an end, maybe no one wants description. Ideas are more important than things.
Still, I suspect that there's at least a nostalgia for the thingliness of things. Deep down people want that connection, even if they've forgotten how to make it. It's not hard, really. Just slow down and pay attention. And stop looking at the world as a means to an end.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Fishbowl : A Meditation on Love and Family Life
I saw an ad on MySpace today: "9 secrets to get your boyfriend positively addicted to you for life". Why would anyone in their right mind want such a thing? "Boyfriend addicted to you for life" sounds a bit like "psychopathic stalker". How romantic.
I wonder why I still have a MySpace account. Really, no one uses it anymore. Except for John Foxx. Well, not John personally--his management runs the site. Still, that's the only reason I stay on MySpace. Because John doesn't have much of an official presence on Facebook. Yes, there is a Facebook page (run very competently by my friend Gem), but it's at least second or third-hand with regard to official information. This isn't anyone's fault; that's just how it is. MySpace still has the advantage of allowing you to preview songs and put them on your profile. The best that Facebook can do (thus far) is iLike. So, it's not surprising that musicians would prefer MySpace in that regard.
Back to the original quote--I was thinking about the condition of jealousy today--particularly jealousy in relationships. (That would be part of a romantic "addiction", I would imagine?) I've noticed that certain men try to gauge your interest in them by your level of jealousy. I'm not talking guys who are douchebags; I'm talking nice, respectful men. I've run into this a lot, whether in an actual relationship or not, and it's puzzling. Why would you torment someone who's interested in you--and who takes great pains and risks to see you--by trying to make them jealous when you do see them? It seems like a form of sadism.
On the flip side, these same men--who, I should add are not your boyfriend--in fact, are someone else's boyfriend--get very jealous when you either talk to other men or about other men. They indicate this by obvious cock-blocking when you strike up a conversation with a single man in the same room, or by pouting and making snippy remarks when you mention ANY other man that they don't know. I can almost see the cartoon, with the "WTF??" bubble appearing over the woman's head.
In relationships--there's sometimes the weird "power play" that goes on. The relationship starts off normally enough, but then the guy starts acting weird, and letting you know that you're not going to control HIS life. And you start wondering if you have a doppelganger dating in your place, that is evilly trying to control this person. Because it's definitely not you. No sarcasm here--it's definitely not you. And if there's no doppelganger, you have to wonder what their mother was like.
In any case, men have always been a puzzle to me, because they are so Quixotic, fighting dragons that are only windmills. Are they really that insecure about themselves? Or have they just been lucky enough to have only evil, controlling wenches for girlfriends, and therefore in abject terror when they get emotionally involved with a new woman? The pattern I've seen even in the most intelligent and mature of men is one of emotional superiority. They must feel more personally secure and confident than the girlfriend--if she's comfortable, then they're uncomfortable, and have to do something to make her doubt her sanity. As if they need to keep her on her toes.
Maybe this is why such nice men end up with bitches. It's really the only way for the woman to survive--by keeping the upper hand for herself.
But why does anyone need to have the upper hand? Is there such a thing as mutual respect and love? Or is that something made up, or only attained by sages and gurus? Who are not, I might add, in relationships? I'm guessing such a thing must exist somewhere, but it's a bit like the Loch Ness monster--we've only seen grainy photos of something that MIGHT be it. And even then it might be a hoax. But even if it is, it might still exist somewhere.
Can love exist in marriage and family life? I'm sure it must, at least in some families; I do have friends who are quite content with their marriages and family life. But it's not a life I could imagine for myself.
A few weeks ago I was in my old neighborhood, the one I grew up in. The neighborhood has changed a lot; it used to be a lot of vacation bungalows and colonials; now, most of the bungalows have been ripped down, and their yards totally overtaken by these huge McMansions that are at least 5,000 square feet. There are few trees, and almost no yard; it's all house. And the houses all look the same, with that faux brickwork and beige vinyl siding, along with huge windows and doors with tacky brass fixtures. I see the tenants of these homes get into their cars--bleach blonde women with day-glo nails getting into their white SUVs to go pick up the kids from soccer practice, yammering away illegally on their cell phones as they back out of their driveways without looking. I watched such a scene as I was at a stop sign, and I was suddenly filled with horror at the banality of it all. These women were probably the popular girls in school in their time. And this is what happened to them?
I just finished reading Muriel Barbery's "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", a book I highly recommend even though it's heartbreaking. In the beginning of the book, one of the main characters, Paloma Josse, talks about suicide. She is twelve-years-old, and already recognizes that adulthood is a "goldfish bowl"--there's no escaping from the life plan made for you. She comes from an affluent family, and is sure that the course of her life will be planned; her thoughts of suicide are her attempt to beat the plan and free herself. Because what do we grow up for, after all? We have big dreams as children--and then become soccer Moms with cheating husbands and garish, pre-fab houses?
I remind myself that I did escape from that, so it is possible. Like everyone else, I believed the myth that this was what I wanted. Then I got married and had a panic attack, realizing that for me, nothing could be worse than life as "Mom". It is true that I have to struggle financially since my divorce (not that my marriage was much different). But I largely get to do what I want to do. I work with old books. I write. I get to teach religion in a liberal arts context. I go to England often, get invited to interesting parties, and have interesting friends. I have a rambling old house with creaky floors, oak bookcases, purple glassware, shelves of occult grimoires, religious histories, and other eclectic books, and a big black cat for company. For me, all of these things are satisfying, and I wouldn't trade them for any boring, rich contractor husband and a brood of kids. It would be nice to have a partner to share my travels with, to have intelligent discussions with, to drink wine and enjoy wonderful foods with. But I also do well enough on my own, and the other will follow if it's meant to happen.
I feel the need to reiterate for the benefit of my married friends with family that I don't think such a life HAS to be banal--and I've seen many examples of very happy families. But it's definitely not the life for me.
I don't think I have a real point here. But then again--neither does anything else we do. That may be the point.
I wonder why I still have a MySpace account. Really, no one uses it anymore. Except for John Foxx. Well, not John personally--his management runs the site. Still, that's the only reason I stay on MySpace. Because John doesn't have much of an official presence on Facebook. Yes, there is a Facebook page (run very competently by my friend Gem), but it's at least second or third-hand with regard to official information. This isn't anyone's fault; that's just how it is. MySpace still has the advantage of allowing you to preview songs and put them on your profile. The best that Facebook can do (thus far) is iLike. So, it's not surprising that musicians would prefer MySpace in that regard.
Back to the original quote--I was thinking about the condition of jealousy today--particularly jealousy in relationships. (That would be part of a romantic "addiction", I would imagine?) I've noticed that certain men try to gauge your interest in them by your level of jealousy. I'm not talking guys who are douchebags; I'm talking nice, respectful men. I've run into this a lot, whether in an actual relationship or not, and it's puzzling. Why would you torment someone who's interested in you--and who takes great pains and risks to see you--by trying to make them jealous when you do see them? It seems like a form of sadism.
On the flip side, these same men--who, I should add are not your boyfriend--in fact, are someone else's boyfriend--get very jealous when you either talk to other men or about other men. They indicate this by obvious cock-blocking when you strike up a conversation with a single man in the same room, or by pouting and making snippy remarks when you mention ANY other man that they don't know. I can almost see the cartoon, with the "WTF??" bubble appearing over the woman's head.
In relationships--there's sometimes the weird "power play" that goes on. The relationship starts off normally enough, but then the guy starts acting weird, and letting you know that you're not going to control HIS life. And you start wondering if you have a doppelganger dating in your place, that is evilly trying to control this person. Because it's definitely not you. No sarcasm here--it's definitely not you. And if there's no doppelganger, you have to wonder what their mother was like.
In any case, men have always been a puzzle to me, because they are so Quixotic, fighting dragons that are only windmills. Are they really that insecure about themselves? Or have they just been lucky enough to have only evil, controlling wenches for girlfriends, and therefore in abject terror when they get emotionally involved with a new woman? The pattern I've seen even in the most intelligent and mature of men is one of emotional superiority. They must feel more personally secure and confident than the girlfriend--if she's comfortable, then they're uncomfortable, and have to do something to make her doubt her sanity. As if they need to keep her on her toes.
Maybe this is why such nice men end up with bitches. It's really the only way for the woman to survive--by keeping the upper hand for herself.
But why does anyone need to have the upper hand? Is there such a thing as mutual respect and love? Or is that something made up, or only attained by sages and gurus? Who are not, I might add, in relationships? I'm guessing such a thing must exist somewhere, but it's a bit like the Loch Ness monster--we've only seen grainy photos of something that MIGHT be it. And even then it might be a hoax. But even if it is, it might still exist somewhere.
Can love exist in marriage and family life? I'm sure it must, at least in some families; I do have friends who are quite content with their marriages and family life. But it's not a life I could imagine for myself.
A few weeks ago I was in my old neighborhood, the one I grew up in. The neighborhood has changed a lot; it used to be a lot of vacation bungalows and colonials; now, most of the bungalows have been ripped down, and their yards totally overtaken by these huge McMansions that are at least 5,000 square feet. There are few trees, and almost no yard; it's all house. And the houses all look the same, with that faux brickwork and beige vinyl siding, along with huge windows and doors with tacky brass fixtures. I see the tenants of these homes get into their cars--bleach blonde women with day-glo nails getting into their white SUVs to go pick up the kids from soccer practice, yammering away illegally on their cell phones as they back out of their driveways without looking. I watched such a scene as I was at a stop sign, and I was suddenly filled with horror at the banality of it all. These women were probably the popular girls in school in their time. And this is what happened to them?
I just finished reading Muriel Barbery's "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", a book I highly recommend even though it's heartbreaking. In the beginning of the book, one of the main characters, Paloma Josse, talks about suicide. She is twelve-years-old, and already recognizes that adulthood is a "goldfish bowl"--there's no escaping from the life plan made for you. She comes from an affluent family, and is sure that the course of her life will be planned; her thoughts of suicide are her attempt to beat the plan and free herself. Because what do we grow up for, after all? We have big dreams as children--and then become soccer Moms with cheating husbands and garish, pre-fab houses?
I remind myself that I did escape from that, so it is possible. Like everyone else, I believed the myth that this was what I wanted. Then I got married and had a panic attack, realizing that for me, nothing could be worse than life as "Mom". It is true that I have to struggle financially since my divorce (not that my marriage was much different). But I largely get to do what I want to do. I work with old books. I write. I get to teach religion in a liberal arts context. I go to England often, get invited to interesting parties, and have interesting friends. I have a rambling old house with creaky floors, oak bookcases, purple glassware, shelves of occult grimoires, religious histories, and other eclectic books, and a big black cat for company. For me, all of these things are satisfying, and I wouldn't trade them for any boring, rich contractor husband and a brood of kids. It would be nice to have a partner to share my travels with, to have intelligent discussions with, to drink wine and enjoy wonderful foods with. But I also do well enough on my own, and the other will follow if it's meant to happen.
I feel the need to reiterate for the benefit of my married friends with family that I don't think such a life HAS to be banal--and I've seen many examples of very happy families. But it's definitely not the life for me.
I don't think I have a real point here. But then again--neither does anything else we do. That may be the point.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Abroad
I have to say this has been a happy week. Not a whole lot has happened; work has been busy, I've managed to sell some of my Craigslist AND Edward Gorey items (to the respondents--thank you very much!), and had two very intelligent conversations this week. Plus, I'm thinking about Europe, particularly about taking a cruise in Southern France. This won't happen in 2011 unless my finances get significantly better, but you never know. I find that with money, the unexpected can go both ways--either you take a huge hit or end up with a huge windfall.
I'm not sure why I'm so fixated on getting out of the country these days. Maybe it's because Americans have been pissing me off lately. The recent elections are exactly what I expected, but disappointing nonetheless. No one has any patience, everyone is into instant gratification. Economy sucks? Obama-Jesus was supposed to wave his hand and fix it his first month in office! Never mind that he said right in his inaugural address that our problems might not get much better in his 4 years in office; after all, they weren't created overnight. No matter; Americans want it, they want it now, and if they don't get it, you're a loser and they'll support your opponent again. This goes around and around until you feel like a ping pong ball in a clothes dryer. The other problem with Americans is what I call the "action movie" problem. Too many Americans are influenced by the old Lethal Weapon--Die Hard--Deathwish kind of heroes, who solve problems by blowing the other guy away. Sure, it's fun to see the bad guys get their due in a movie, but they translate it to real life. Screw diplomacy and peace talks! That's for wimps! Real Americans just shove it in your face and you'll like it, or they'll just blow you up! Solves everything, right? Just don't do it to us!
Okay, I'm not interested in giving myself a headache today, so I won't go on about that. But this is definitely the mentality among the conservative factions in this country. I should know--I grew up in a family where this largely IS the mentality. Not my mother or siblings per se, but my father and aunts and uncles. And it's really tiresome. Lewis Black did a wonderful piece about this at his Broadway show several years ago:
I am not blind to the fact that the grass is not necessarily greener elsewhere. Europe definitely has its own set of problems, many just as serious, if not more so. But from what I've seen, Europeans spend their time fighting real problems, and they do it well. American protesters could learn a lot from Europe. And the press there does not suffer fools. If you're a greedy jerk, you're going to be called out for being a greedy jerk. People there seem to be smart enough to recognize that. I'm not a fan of violent protest--I don't think it solves anything. But some protests are quite creative. For instance, the French expressed their displeasure with President Sarkozy by going out en masse and buying the one book that he hated. People were reading it everywhere on the streets of France. No one would think to do that here, except maybe one of the library associations. And they wouldn't get the same buy-in.
In any case, whether it be for a nice long vacation or an eventual emigration, I really want to visit the rest of Europe. I say "rest of", because I spend a lot of time in England.I speak the same language, and I've gotten to know my way around. But I've never been to France, Italy, Germany, Spain--nor any part of Eastern Europe, which is where my mother's family is from. My biggest issue is language. I took 7 years of French instruction, but I haven't used it in years, and my vocabulary is quite rusty. The last time I had a chance to use it was when I visited Canada; I was staying in Ottawa, but had frequent cross-overs into Quebec. Canada is bi-lingual, but I found that when I attempted to speak French (and I remembered a lot more than I thought I would), they were obviously pleased. Not amused--pleased. I can tell the difference. But in general, I would be nervous about trying to hold an entire conversation in French--I need to seriously brush up. But French aside, I'm not that familiar with any other European languages. I usually can decipher writings in other Romance languages, because I also took 7 years of Latin. But I am nowhere near having any skill in speaking those languages.
Now, my friends who either live in Europe or have visited tell me that speaking the local language is not necessary--everyone speaks English. There are some places where I would want them to speak English--at the immigration counter at the airport, for instance. But beyond that, I feel like it's somehow morally wrong to not even attempt to learn at least some of the language of the place you're visiting. We expect foreigners visiting America to speak some English. Why do we think we can go to Europe and not give the native people the same courtesy? There's a certain arrogance to that, and it just underlines how isolated we are as a nation from the rest of the world. I realize some people are not good at languages, and may be afraid to sound like an idiot. Plus, we're not all linguists. Still--if you're going to spend any time abroad, it doesn't hurt to try to learn something new. In fact, one would hope you would go abroad with some intellectual curiosity, and not with the "Johnny Ramone mentality". (When the Ramones toured Europe, Johnny Ramone was known to complain--"F**k these old rocks, doesn't this place have a McDonald's?").
Native Americans aside, the United States as it is today has a cultural heritage borrowed almost completely from Europe. The colonists and founders of our government were Europeans. I'm always interested in getting to the roots of things, and Europe is certain part of our national roots. I've been to England many times, and never fail to be awed by the history that's there--something the English may take for granted, since they see it all the time. Even the visible England is relatively new--London has had so many fires, and has been rebuilt so many times, that you really have to look for the most ancient parts of the city. One of my favorite experiences of London was in an inexpensive hotel. My room was nothing special, but it overlooked the rooftops of the city, and was quite near to St. Pancras Church. There was something very sublime about sitting with the window open, with a summer breeze coming in at dawn, with my cup of tea. The horizon over the old chimneys turned from a deep blue to pink to orange, and you could hear the bells tolling on the church as the city was starting to wake up. I've been to many cities in the U.S.--many beautiful places in their own right--and never experienced anything quite like this. It's hard to put into words. You just feel the age of things, and it reminds you that you are just a small part of a large universe. It's as if the ancient city blends with the modern city, and resonates across time, and you're there to experience the music.
Ah yes. Time to pay things off and start saving my money again...
I'm not sure why I'm so fixated on getting out of the country these days. Maybe it's because Americans have been pissing me off lately. The recent elections are exactly what I expected, but disappointing nonetheless. No one has any patience, everyone is into instant gratification. Economy sucks? Obama-Jesus was supposed to wave his hand and fix it his first month in office! Never mind that he said right in his inaugural address that our problems might not get much better in his 4 years in office; after all, they weren't created overnight. No matter; Americans want it, they want it now, and if they don't get it, you're a loser and they'll support your opponent again. This goes around and around until you feel like a ping pong ball in a clothes dryer. The other problem with Americans is what I call the "action movie" problem. Too many Americans are influenced by the old Lethal Weapon--Die Hard--Deathwish kind of heroes, who solve problems by blowing the other guy away. Sure, it's fun to see the bad guys get their due in a movie, but they translate it to real life. Screw diplomacy and peace talks! That's for wimps! Real Americans just shove it in your face and you'll like it, or they'll just blow you up! Solves everything, right? Just don't do it to us!
Okay, I'm not interested in giving myself a headache today, so I won't go on about that. But this is definitely the mentality among the conservative factions in this country. I should know--I grew up in a family where this largely IS the mentality. Not my mother or siblings per se, but my father and aunts and uncles. And it's really tiresome. Lewis Black did a wonderful piece about this at his Broadway show several years ago:
I am not blind to the fact that the grass is not necessarily greener elsewhere. Europe definitely has its own set of problems, many just as serious, if not more so. But from what I've seen, Europeans spend their time fighting real problems, and they do it well. American protesters could learn a lot from Europe. And the press there does not suffer fools. If you're a greedy jerk, you're going to be called out for being a greedy jerk. People there seem to be smart enough to recognize that. I'm not a fan of violent protest--I don't think it solves anything. But some protests are quite creative. For instance, the French expressed their displeasure with President Sarkozy by going out en masse and buying the one book that he hated. People were reading it everywhere on the streets of France. No one would think to do that here, except maybe one of the library associations. And they wouldn't get the same buy-in.
In any case, whether it be for a nice long vacation or an eventual emigration, I really want to visit the rest of Europe. I say "rest of", because I spend a lot of time in England.I speak the same language, and I've gotten to know my way around. But I've never been to France, Italy, Germany, Spain--nor any part of Eastern Europe, which is where my mother's family is from. My biggest issue is language. I took 7 years of French instruction, but I haven't used it in years, and my vocabulary is quite rusty. The last time I had a chance to use it was when I visited Canada; I was staying in Ottawa, but had frequent cross-overs into Quebec. Canada is bi-lingual, but I found that when I attempted to speak French (and I remembered a lot more than I thought I would), they were obviously pleased. Not amused--pleased. I can tell the difference. But in general, I would be nervous about trying to hold an entire conversation in French--I need to seriously brush up. But French aside, I'm not that familiar with any other European languages. I usually can decipher writings in other Romance languages, because I also took 7 years of Latin. But I am nowhere near having any skill in speaking those languages.
Now, my friends who either live in Europe or have visited tell me that speaking the local language is not necessary--everyone speaks English. There are some places where I would want them to speak English--at the immigration counter at the airport, for instance. But beyond that, I feel like it's somehow morally wrong to not even attempt to learn at least some of the language of the place you're visiting. We expect foreigners visiting America to speak some English. Why do we think we can go to Europe and not give the native people the same courtesy? There's a certain arrogance to that, and it just underlines how isolated we are as a nation from the rest of the world. I realize some people are not good at languages, and may be afraid to sound like an idiot. Plus, we're not all linguists. Still--if you're going to spend any time abroad, it doesn't hurt to try to learn something new. In fact, one would hope you would go abroad with some intellectual curiosity, and not with the "Johnny Ramone mentality". (When the Ramones toured Europe, Johnny Ramone was known to complain--"F**k these old rocks, doesn't this place have a McDonald's?").
Native Americans aside, the United States as it is today has a cultural heritage borrowed almost completely from Europe. The colonists and founders of our government were Europeans. I'm always interested in getting to the roots of things, and Europe is certain part of our national roots. I've been to England many times, and never fail to be awed by the history that's there--something the English may take for granted, since they see it all the time. Even the visible England is relatively new--London has had so many fires, and has been rebuilt so many times, that you really have to look for the most ancient parts of the city. One of my favorite experiences of London was in an inexpensive hotel. My room was nothing special, but it overlooked the rooftops of the city, and was quite near to St. Pancras Church. There was something very sublime about sitting with the window open, with a summer breeze coming in at dawn, with my cup of tea. The horizon over the old chimneys turned from a deep blue to pink to orange, and you could hear the bells tolling on the church as the city was starting to wake up. I've been to many cities in the U.S.--many beautiful places in their own right--and never experienced anything quite like this. It's hard to put into words. You just feel the age of things, and it reminds you that you are just a small part of a large universe. It's as if the ancient city blends with the modern city, and resonates across time, and you're there to experience the music.
Ah yes. Time to pay things off and start saving my money again...
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