I have become a little infuriated recently be some misconceptions.
Let me state that I am a heterosexual, Caucasian, male. This may have been obvious. Whether or not you believe it, that means I got to play the "game of life" on easy mode.
The society we live in has a set of implicit beliefs. You need not agree with them. I hope that you do not. You may even choose to deny their existence if you wish. However, the subject and a reference to my race and sexuality has probably already caused you certain conceptions to form.
The story that our society tells about me is beneficial to me. According to the story, I am boring, dependable, out-of-touch, rich, I lack athletic ability, I am married, I am conservative, I cheat on my wife, etc. This story may not be the story I want to tell, but it has been useful to me. You may not wish me to be on your pick-up basketball team, but you do wish to employ me. Is this a horrible situation? Yes. But pretending that the situation doesn't exist, is not a solution. Pretending that this misconception does not benefit me; pretending that I am not a member of the privileged group in our society; to basically deny one part of the problem; is insulting to all other groups as well as insulting to me personally.
The terms we use are even indicative of the underlying problem. We "discriminate". Our brains separate, categorize, discern. It was not until after the U.S. Civil War that "discrimination" took on a different meaning than "discriminating". Is our pattern recognition faulty? Yes. Do we err? Often. Does it seem to be an inherent process of human consciousness? Yes.
In my particular case, I have grown tired of my ethnic peers denying the opportunities they have had; believing the antiquated Social Darwinism that is still propagated. The game is not fair. Anyone who feeds off errant pattern recognition is not on your side. Anyone who wishes to separate people and to categorize them is degrading them.
We are flawed. We are also conscious. We can know that we are flawed. We can make ourselves better. The first step is honesty. It is time we stop hiding behind words. I have my prejudices. I can not say how or when they were formed. I have chosen to recognize them and remove them from my psyche, but some remain and I do not know if I will ever be free of them.
The second step... Well, that involves talking. Prejudices are shattered in the same way scientific theories are: contrary evidence. If you get to know me, I'm no longer "a heterosexual, Caucasian, male", I'm Frank.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
You pay the co-pay
I could have sworn I wrote this blog long ago, but I did not see any reference to it. The expression is my mother's. It references seeking the advice of a mental health professional. For those lucky enough to have coverage for mental health consultation, there are no real barriers to treatment. There may be barriers, but they have no substance.
I have had a rather odd relationship with therapy. Well, I consider it odd. Therapists vary greatly in their adaptability, specialization, and skill. The same could be said of many professionals, but the mind doesn't not allow results to be easily measured. One can not simply rely on recommendations or commercial success in choosing a provider. I cannot say that all the providers I have interacted with were helpful.
But therapy is not meant to be curative. It is meant to be therapeutic. A capable therapist allows their patient to voice their thoughts. The patient may or may not come to some realization. The patient may or may not feel relieved to express something. It is quite possible that you may develop a relationship that allows for such expression outside of a therapeutic environment. However, emotional investment can quickly become an issue.
I have chosen to avoid therapy more often than not. The propensity of drug treatment, lack of self-awareness, and misunderstandings regarding mental health caused me to internalize. I do not regret the result. I may have become overly-reliant on escapism but I believe I did gain insight. However, I have turned from escapism and now find that I lack other coping strategies.
And so, I pay the co-pay. I give voice to my thoughts without ruining someone else's day. I am glad that this opportunity exists. Consider it a crutch if you wish, but sometimes using a crutch is the only way to keep moving.
I have had a rather odd relationship with therapy. Well, I consider it odd. Therapists vary greatly in their adaptability, specialization, and skill. The same could be said of many professionals, but the mind doesn't not allow results to be easily measured. One can not simply rely on recommendations or commercial success in choosing a provider. I cannot say that all the providers I have interacted with were helpful.
But therapy is not meant to be curative. It is meant to be therapeutic. A capable therapist allows their patient to voice their thoughts. The patient may or may not come to some realization. The patient may or may not feel relieved to express something. It is quite possible that you may develop a relationship that allows for such expression outside of a therapeutic environment. However, emotional investment can quickly become an issue.
I have chosen to avoid therapy more often than not. The propensity of drug treatment, lack of self-awareness, and misunderstandings regarding mental health caused me to internalize. I do not regret the result. I may have become overly-reliant on escapism but I believe I did gain insight. However, I have turned from escapism and now find that I lack other coping strategies.
And so, I pay the co-pay. I give voice to my thoughts without ruining someone else's day. I am glad that this opportunity exists. Consider it a crutch if you wish, but sometimes using a crutch is the only way to keep moving.
Get back up
I am not a physician or a psychologist. I do not provide advice to others in regards to their mental health. I can not know the mind of others. I believe that all humans are unique and that there is not "one answer". What I will do is share a coping methods in the hopes that it helps some one.
You see, I have always been my own worst critic. A critic that can never be satisfied. A critic that expects acts of legend. A critic that requires immortality.
This personality trait has driven me. Although I will not succeed, I have tried to be above criticism... to overpower the doubt with pride. I have had fleeting moments where my successes were enough.
I have from time to time be overcome. The self-doubt has reached the point of self-loathing. I have allowed it to sweep over me. I have sought escape in myriad forms. I have become stronger as I've grown older. I have fought the battle again and again and the victories of the past empower me. But, I am not yet immune.
Throughout my life, I have maintained one coping mechanism. At my lowest, my spite remained. The venom in my veins has allowed me to move forward. I have not broken in large part, because I refuse to kneel. The very act of questioning my strength fuels me. The emotion of fear drives me to be reckless.
If you have reached a point where the destructive thoughts hold sway... If you wish for escape in any of its forms... If you don't have the strength to keep going... I ask you to confront what is destroying you. Give it form. Confront it's lies and anger and fear. Spit its words back at it. For it is of you and less than you. If you are weak, it is weaker. Any faults it may point out are its faults as well. Let yourself seethe for you are being attacked.
And as you have again and again...
Get back up.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Something happened along the way (Originally published on August 14, 2006)
A year ago, I thought it funny. Stories of men and women who jump
off the grid. They become successful in the ways their society measures
success and just stop. I don't find it as funny any more.
I have not quite attained the desired ends. I still have several personal milestones of success I have not yet reached but I've gained some cruising altitude. Given some time, I will reach my destination. I see no more challenge in it. Perhaps that's the problem.
It was never about money or status. I don't care about either. It was about accomplishment. Looking back on a body of work and knowing it is yours. Knowing the energy that went into it. But then, the job is complete and I have to look for another milestone. It is my nature. I have to keep going. But now I seem to have lost the destination.
Somewhere between the mundane of living debt free and the colossal of rebuilding this city, I don't see any goals. I could never chase a promotion or desire money as an end.
The only thing I am left with is getting to know my fellow humans. There just seems to be something wrong with considering that a goal. Getting to know people is something I always thought of as just happening. Viewing people as an objective seems dehumanizing to me.
For now, I will just retire to my books and my pen.
I have not quite attained the desired ends. I still have several personal milestones of success I have not yet reached but I've gained some cruising altitude. Given some time, I will reach my destination. I see no more challenge in it. Perhaps that's the problem.
It was never about money or status. I don't care about either. It was about accomplishment. Looking back on a body of work and knowing it is yours. Knowing the energy that went into it. But then, the job is complete and I have to look for another milestone. It is my nature. I have to keep going. But now I seem to have lost the destination.
Somewhere between the mundane of living debt free and the colossal of rebuilding this city, I don't see any goals. I could never chase a promotion or desire money as an end.
The only thing I am left with is getting to know my fellow humans. There just seems to be something wrong with considering that a goal. Getting to know people is something I always thought of as just happening. Viewing people as an objective seems dehumanizing to me.
For now, I will just retire to my books and my pen.
A conversation by a fence (Originally published on August 20, 2006)
Man 1: If there going to call it a Folk Festival, they should play mostly folk music.
Man 2: It doesn't matter to me what they play as long as it's good.
This was repeated in essence with different analogies for at least an hour. I did not chime in as I sat in my chair a few feet away. I had discovered something in the moment I heard the counter-play: it isn't about the music. Not for me anyway. I realized later, it never was. I hadn't really ever gone for the folk music, not really. Ani Difranco was the performer that got me to buy the tickets 4 years ago. I've never considered Ani folk but then again, I don't put things into genres.
This year, I really didn't see that much of the concerts. It is physically impossible to witness them all. I would have to estimate that I spent only 6 hours in front of a stage. It was the activity that occurred in the campsite that interested me more. That was amazing.
Dozens of moments are circulating in my mind, but one seems to want airing more than the rest. As many were, I was wearing glow sticks during the nighttime hours. I stumbled across a drum circle and began to dance. A young lady approached me and asked if she could have one of my glow sticks. As I had three and she had none, I gave one to her. She said "Thank you" and then she said "I knew you would. Hippies always share."
I was taken aback. Me? A hippy? I think back now and realize I must have looked the part. Dancing around a drum circle, unshaven, covered in dust. It was not really until I arrived in my world of concrete and steel that all the pieces came together. It's not about the music or the parties, it's about the world as it can exist. It's about a place where people share. It's about a place where you can walk up to anyone and start a conversation. It's about a place where you can leave your personal belongings by a tent and have complete confidence they will be there when you return. It's about a place where everyone walks everywhere. It's about a place where free expression is encouraged.
If wishing that place could exist year round makes me a hippy, than I am honored to be called one.
Man 2: It doesn't matter to me what they play as long as it's good.
This was repeated in essence with different analogies for at least an hour. I did not chime in as I sat in my chair a few feet away. I had discovered something in the moment I heard the counter-play: it isn't about the music. Not for me anyway. I realized later, it never was. I hadn't really ever gone for the folk music, not really. Ani Difranco was the performer that got me to buy the tickets 4 years ago. I've never considered Ani folk but then again, I don't put things into genres.
This year, I really didn't see that much of the concerts. It is physically impossible to witness them all. I would have to estimate that I spent only 6 hours in front of a stage. It was the activity that occurred in the campsite that interested me more. That was amazing.
Dozens of moments are circulating in my mind, but one seems to want airing more than the rest. As many were, I was wearing glow sticks during the nighttime hours. I stumbled across a drum circle and began to dance. A young lady approached me and asked if she could have one of my glow sticks. As I had three and she had none, I gave one to her. She said "Thank you" and then she said "I knew you would. Hippies always share."
I was taken aback. Me? A hippy? I think back now and realize I must have looked the part. Dancing around a drum circle, unshaven, covered in dust. It was not really until I arrived in my world of concrete and steel that all the pieces came together. It's not about the music or the parties, it's about the world as it can exist. It's about a place where people share. It's about a place where you can walk up to anyone and start a conversation. It's about a place where you can leave your personal belongings by a tent and have complete confidence they will be there when you return. It's about a place where everyone walks everywhere. It's about a place where free expression is encouraged.
If wishing that place could exist year round makes me a hippy, than I am honored to be called one.
I think I'm starting to get it (Originally published on August 20, 2006)
I have spent several weeks unsure. Something had changed. I just
didn't know what. I began to doubt the path I had taken. I began
trying new approaches. I began to conceive myself differently.
I returned from my third Philadelphia Folk Festival today and realized I was not the same person that went the previous two times. There was no concern about being alone this time. There were no thoughts of decorum or acceptance. I didn't worry about "acting my age".
During the last year, a process started. I am not sure what triggered it although I do have my thoughts on the subject. I am becoming free. I'm not sure how far along the process has gone but it is now perceivable. The awkwardness I have always felt around my fellow humans is slowly going away. The fear of rejection or whatever it was that has caused me to label myself "A Social Retard" is going away. I still can't read body language and I'm not the world's best conversationalist, but I stopped caring about those things.
I have always thought of myself as free. I have my own world view. My own ethics. I have never let the popular opinion shape my own views. But I was inhibited. I did care what others thought of me, I just didn't admit it. Maybe one day I won't care what others think. In the meantime, I'm just going to accept that I do.
I returned from my third Philadelphia Folk Festival today and realized I was not the same person that went the previous two times. There was no concern about being alone this time. There were no thoughts of decorum or acceptance. I didn't worry about "acting my age".
During the last year, a process started. I am not sure what triggered it although I do have my thoughts on the subject. I am becoming free. I'm not sure how far along the process has gone but it is now perceivable. The awkwardness I have always felt around my fellow humans is slowly going away. The fear of rejection or whatever it was that has caused me to label myself "A Social Retard" is going away. I still can't read body language and I'm not the world's best conversationalist, but I stopped caring about those things.
I have always thought of myself as free. I have my own world view. My own ethics. I have never let the popular opinion shape my own views. But I was inhibited. I did care what others thought of me, I just didn't admit it. Maybe one day I won't care what others think. In the meantime, I'm just going to accept that I do.
Integrated Circuits (Originallly published on August 25, 2006)
Occasionally something minor reveals something larger. We have had a
network outage at the office for roughly 24 hours. The result is a
company with 0 productivity. No one can get to their files or their
e-mail. We are far from a paperless office. However, we can't run on
paper alone.
The simple fact is that we have become reliant on the integrated circuit. Our cars, our phones, our clocks, our music, our currency exchanges, our lights, our heat, all of the things that define our civilization are contolled by wafers of silicon.
This is not true on most of the planet. Most technologies still predate IC and only the industrial centers have invested themselves so heavily.
Even here in Philadelphia, in this very office, the effect would have been minimal 10 years ago. 5 years ago it would have effected people but only 20% of the workforce would become significantly less productive. Then again, 10 years ago, my department didn't exist. 5 years ago my job didn't exist.
I guess I've found another thing that's reliant on the integrated circuit: me.
The simple fact is that we have become reliant on the integrated circuit. Our cars, our phones, our clocks, our music, our currency exchanges, our lights, our heat, all of the things that define our civilization are contolled by wafers of silicon.
This is not true on most of the planet. Most technologies still predate IC and only the industrial centers have invested themselves so heavily.
Even here in Philadelphia, in this very office, the effect would have been minimal 10 years ago. 5 years ago it would have effected people but only 20% of the workforce would become significantly less productive. Then again, 10 years ago, my department didn't exist. 5 years ago my job didn't exist.
I guess I've found another thing that's reliant on the integrated circuit: me.
Artificial Intelligence (Originally published on August 25, 2006)
I remember seeing movies like Terminator and thinking “We could just
pull the plug.” If a machine becomes persnickety, you just show it
who's boss: take away its electricity. But there are less and less
machines with off switches anymore.
Example: my phone. There's an off switch, but all it does is turn off the screen. You can reset it, but it just starts right back up. Even if you pull the battery, it has a backup.
What I think is funny is that in all portrayals of AI it turns out bad for us. I don't think it will. I think we might want to add an off switch just in case, but I don't think they are going to take over and kill us all.
But the question is, why? Why have the machine think for you? Why let them run on autopilot? Is it a desire for more leisure? I agree that building machines to do the jobs that require the most backbreaking work is a good idea given the caveat that the person who did the job gets an easier, better job. Machines taking the soil samples at Chernobyl and rebuilding concrete barriers there; these are two goals robotics engineers should have.
However, that's not what AI would be for. AI would involve a machine that could adapt. A machine that could change its programming in response to stimuli. There are some computer viruses that seem to come close to this. They are usually quite nasty and if anyone does write one that’s truly capable of complete adaptation, it would take millions of machines down.
Why build a machine that does the very things that make us human? A machine that does our thinking for us? What would be the point of playing chess if a machine told you which moves to make? What would be the point of playing music if the machines told you which chords to use? It’s very nice that a game could be designed that will be easier or harder depending on how good you are, but what satisfaction would you get out of winning?
I believe the only answer anyone has ever come up with is "Because we can." I can't deny this as an incentive. Many of the great works of our society have been done for that reason alone. Of course, so have many of our worst atrocities.
Example: my phone. There's an off switch, but all it does is turn off the screen. You can reset it, but it just starts right back up. Even if you pull the battery, it has a backup.
What I think is funny is that in all portrayals of AI it turns out bad for us. I don't think it will. I think we might want to add an off switch just in case, but I don't think they are going to take over and kill us all.
But the question is, why? Why have the machine think for you? Why let them run on autopilot? Is it a desire for more leisure? I agree that building machines to do the jobs that require the most backbreaking work is a good idea given the caveat that the person who did the job gets an easier, better job. Machines taking the soil samples at Chernobyl and rebuilding concrete barriers there; these are two goals robotics engineers should have.
However, that's not what AI would be for. AI would involve a machine that could adapt. A machine that could change its programming in response to stimuli. There are some computer viruses that seem to come close to this. They are usually quite nasty and if anyone does write one that’s truly capable of complete adaptation, it would take millions of machines down.
Why build a machine that does the very things that make us human? A machine that does our thinking for us? What would be the point of playing chess if a machine told you which moves to make? What would be the point of playing music if the machines told you which chords to use? It’s very nice that a game could be designed that will be easier or harder depending on how good you are, but what satisfaction would you get out of winning?
I believe the only answer anyone has ever come up with is "Because we can." I can't deny this as an incentive. Many of the great works of our society have been done for that reason alone. Of course, so have many of our worst atrocities.
I want one, I want one, I want one... (Originally published on September 1, 2006)
I have always associated Nikola Tesla's name with great things. The man understood things about electricity that gave us the life we have. He was also a little nuts by all accounts which adds to his charm.
A couple of days ago, I ran into another reason to like the name. It does 0-60 in less than 4 seconds, has a top speed of roughly 130 mph and doesn't have a gas tank. This ain't your momma's electric car. This thing makes a Prius look boring.
Is it fairly priced? Hell, no! Lotus currently has the manufacturing contract. It's probably about the cheapest thing coming off of that assembly line at $100,000. Is it practical? Hell, no! It's a two seater. Does it charge off a standard 110? Hell, no! An electrician has to come to your house to install the charger. But, isn't it nice to look at an exotic car and not have to think of the 7.0 liter V10 or V12 or whatever under the hood. Isn't it nice to think of electric cars as able to replace everything coming out of Detroit. And with a 250 mile range, this thing can actually get somewhere other than down the block before you're on E.
Besides, don't worry someone else is looking at the other end of the spectrum. Cheap electric cars that can charge off a normal 110 volt outlet are coming. The same company that is bringing the SmartCar to the U.S. is also putting out some of their own. You can see them all at www.zapworld.com. They still aren't quite there with range and top speed, but you can get one for under $10,000.
The rains have come (Originally published on September 1, 2006)
It's as plain as the rain on my face... summer has left Philadelphia.
She may have just gone on vacation. She usually swings back through
in mid-September but the jackets, sweatshirts, umbrellas, and raincoats
mark her absence. There are still roughly 22 days before the sun is no
longer aligned with our hemisphere, but seasons aren't about calendar
dates to me. There about interactions.
I don't really have a favorite season. I like them all but this summer seemed too short. It was mild. It was beautiful. But it seems like only yesterday we were saying goodbye to the rains of spring.
But nature works in cycles and an end is just another view of a beginning. Autumn in Philadelphia is prime time. Longer nights. No need for air conditioning or heat. Even on a rainy cold night, the bars, restaurants, and clubs will be packed.
There is still a third of 2006 to go. Based on the first 8 months, it's going to be a grand time.
I don't really have a favorite season. I like them all but this summer seemed too short. It was mild. It was beautiful. But it seems like only yesterday we were saying goodbye to the rains of spring.
But nature works in cycles and an end is just another view of a beginning. Autumn in Philadelphia is prime time. Longer nights. No need for air conditioning or heat. Even on a rainy cold night, the bars, restaurants, and clubs will be packed.
There is still a third of 2006 to go. Based on the first 8 months, it's going to be a grand time.
A moment to vent (Originally published September 4, 2006)
I don't usually whine. In general I let the majority go its way and I
go mine. So, most of the people don't know that I actually dislike
television. It's just not a topic that I bring up. Occasionally,
someone will try to start a conversation about this or that show and
I'll mention that I don't own one, but I never mention that I consider
them destructive.
In my estimation, the fastest way to kill a party is to turn on a television. They allow us to disconnect. It can be useful to disconnect. A good movie can be a blessing to a weary mind and a good book can expand your horizons. At times television can approach the other mediums of entertainment. It has had its highlights. It has brought us powerful images in real time.
But then there's the other 99.9999% of the programming. A distracting string of colorful pictures meant, seemingly, to remove all thought and cause immense amounts of time to be lost. For my own part, I simply got rid of mine some years ago. In most cases, I continue to avoid it being sucked in only on occasion.
Then, there's the gym. I am lucky enough to have a gym in my building. It's rather small but quiet enough that you very rarely have to wait for a machine. In the corners are televisions. Televisions that I have turned off again and again when the gym became empty only to have the next person walk in and turn it back on again. And, of course, they can not set the volume to any human level. It has to be loud enough that my iPod can no longer drown it out.
If perhaps, they occasionally turned on the Simpsons, WHYY, or something approaching entertainment, I would not mind. Today, however, I had three consecutive people walk into the empty gym. Turn on the television (in two cases while wearing headphones) and proceed to watch the U.S. Open. I don't have anything against tennis, but watching it on television is like watching paint dry.
But, compared to the usual turn of events, it was a refreshing change. Somehow, almost every time I go to the gym either "Seinfeld" or "Everybody Loves Raymond" is on. If there is a "Seinfeld" episode I have not seen a half-dozen times, I would be quite surprised. As for "Everbody Loves Raymond", there was never anything redeeming about that show. TBS apparently runs 6 episodes a night or some such nonsense.
I apologize for pointing out the inanity of my fellow humans. I just hope that when one day I yell out "Please, turn that off!", they do not misjudge me. They could, of course, forego the surprising outburst by once, just once, asking me whether or not I minded. If only one person was in a gym and the television was off, I would certainly ask before turning it on and cranking the sound up.
Actually, I take that back. I would shake that person's hand, thank them, and get on the treadmill.
In my estimation, the fastest way to kill a party is to turn on a television. They allow us to disconnect. It can be useful to disconnect. A good movie can be a blessing to a weary mind and a good book can expand your horizons. At times television can approach the other mediums of entertainment. It has had its highlights. It has brought us powerful images in real time.
But then there's the other 99.9999% of the programming. A distracting string of colorful pictures meant, seemingly, to remove all thought and cause immense amounts of time to be lost. For my own part, I simply got rid of mine some years ago. In most cases, I continue to avoid it being sucked in only on occasion.
Then, there's the gym. I am lucky enough to have a gym in my building. It's rather small but quiet enough that you very rarely have to wait for a machine. In the corners are televisions. Televisions that I have turned off again and again when the gym became empty only to have the next person walk in and turn it back on again. And, of course, they can not set the volume to any human level. It has to be loud enough that my iPod can no longer drown it out.
If perhaps, they occasionally turned on the Simpsons, WHYY, or something approaching entertainment, I would not mind. Today, however, I had three consecutive people walk into the empty gym. Turn on the television (in two cases while wearing headphones) and proceed to watch the U.S. Open. I don't have anything against tennis, but watching it on television is like watching paint dry.
But, compared to the usual turn of events, it was a refreshing change. Somehow, almost every time I go to the gym either "Seinfeld" or "Everybody Loves Raymond" is on. If there is a "Seinfeld" episode I have not seen a half-dozen times, I would be quite surprised. As for "Everbody Loves Raymond", there was never anything redeeming about that show. TBS apparently runs 6 episodes a night or some such nonsense.
I apologize for pointing out the inanity of my fellow humans. I just hope that when one day I yell out "Please, turn that off!", they do not misjudge me. They could, of course, forego the surprising outburst by once, just once, asking me whether or not I minded. If only one person was in a gym and the television was off, I would certainly ask before turning it on and cranking the sound up.
Actually, I take that back. I would shake that person's hand, thank them, and get on the treadmill.
Ink on Paper (Originally published on September 16, 2006)
I have written a great many words. What has been a continual
question in my mind the last few months is the medium. I still think of
putting ink on paper as somehow a different form of writing than
aligning bits in ether.
It is romanticized in my view. It involves a purity. It is unforgiving. A pen is incapable of spell checking. Any edits are clearly marked. It carries more inflection than anything electronic can. The pen strokes, the distance between lines, the grammatical errors, all have their story to tell.
But the hundreds of pages of longhand lack something... they have never been read. Words without wings. The thoughts of one person which wil never see the light of another's eyes.
Truly, what is a story without a reader? Even if my sprawling prose was shared with others, they would require an interpreter. The years of putting ink to paper have not made my penmanship any more legible. In fact, the need to get the bombardment of thoughts and ideas down has left, in some cases, a collection of glyphs the author finds difficulty to decipher.
There will always be a time when a worn out old journal and a pen will be the vessel of words. However, I've started to lose the notion that words captured on paper have any more weight than the collection of 1's and 0's I'm generating now.
It is romanticized in my view. It involves a purity. It is unforgiving. A pen is incapable of spell checking. Any edits are clearly marked. It carries more inflection than anything electronic can. The pen strokes, the distance between lines, the grammatical errors, all have their story to tell.
But the hundreds of pages of longhand lack something... they have never been read. Words without wings. The thoughts of one person which wil never see the light of another's eyes.
Truly, what is a story without a reader? Even if my sprawling prose was shared with others, they would require an interpreter. The years of putting ink to paper have not made my penmanship any more legible. In fact, the need to get the bombardment of thoughts and ideas down has left, in some cases, a collection of glyphs the author finds difficulty to decipher.
There will always be a time when a worn out old journal and a pen will be the vessel of words. However, I've started to lose the notion that words captured on paper have any more weight than the collection of 1's and 0's I'm generating now.
The Art of Peace (Originally published on September 17, 2006)
I have just finished reading the Art of War and something occurred to
me. There is and has always been a divide in the societies of the
world. The clearest example is the split between Sparta and Athens. A
trading, democratic cultured empire was defeated by an oligarchic
militant state. It’s not that simple, however. The culture of Plato,
Herodotus, Euripides, and Socrates existed simultaneously with war and
slavery.
Short-lived examples abound in modern history. From the monks of Cambodia, peaceable resistance against Vietnam, the peaceful protests of the civil rights movement, the massacre at Tiananmen Square. The people of peace arise, band together, and come in to conflict with the people of war.
It differs from the dichotomy of love and hate. War is not necessarily fueled by the intensity of hate. It is often more practical and more long lived. Peace is not synonymous with love. Peace requires planning and must be sustained consciously. Love is raw and must merely be allowed to exist.
The split arises, in my humble opinion, from a difference in philosophy.
To some, the world must be conquered. The Art of War has remained a popular allegory among this group. They conceive others as competition and nature as either an enemy or a tool. They feel as Hobbes did. That if society was taken away, chaos would ensue. That mankind in a state of nature is constantly in conflict and only civilization can bring peace of mind.
The others see the world as something that must be merely understood. They could see nothing worth remembering is Sun Tzu work other than some interesting historical references. They speak of harmony with nature and although they compete, it does not appear to me that they connect the competition with the competitors. Conflict is unavoidable but they try to circumvent it. Diplomacy is there way and governments are handy inventions for arbitration and facilitating the sharing of resources. In their view, humans in a state of nature would work together for mutual benefit.
It is always an error to try to break the whole of humanity in to a few groups. There are an infinite number of variations between any two points. However, occasionally things do polarize people. If one could find a question that warranted only a Yes or No response without any conditional statements, one could split the group. I have never come across this question.
But perhaps one only need ask, “Who are your enemies?” There are many possible answers, and this question would strike many as odd, but the answers you receive would give light to answers to another question: “Can you conceive of another human being as your enemy?”
Short-lived examples abound in modern history. From the monks of Cambodia, peaceable resistance against Vietnam, the peaceful protests of the civil rights movement, the massacre at Tiananmen Square. The people of peace arise, band together, and come in to conflict with the people of war.
It differs from the dichotomy of love and hate. War is not necessarily fueled by the intensity of hate. It is often more practical and more long lived. Peace is not synonymous with love. Peace requires planning and must be sustained consciously. Love is raw and must merely be allowed to exist.
The split arises, in my humble opinion, from a difference in philosophy.
To some, the world must be conquered. The Art of War has remained a popular allegory among this group. They conceive others as competition and nature as either an enemy or a tool. They feel as Hobbes did. That if society was taken away, chaos would ensue. That mankind in a state of nature is constantly in conflict and only civilization can bring peace of mind.
The others see the world as something that must be merely understood. They could see nothing worth remembering is Sun Tzu work other than some interesting historical references. They speak of harmony with nature and although they compete, it does not appear to me that they connect the competition with the competitors. Conflict is unavoidable but they try to circumvent it. Diplomacy is there way and governments are handy inventions for arbitration and facilitating the sharing of resources. In their view, humans in a state of nature would work together for mutual benefit.
It is always an error to try to break the whole of humanity in to a few groups. There are an infinite number of variations between any two points. However, occasionally things do polarize people. If one could find a question that warranted only a Yes or No response without any conditional statements, one could split the group. I have never come across this question.
But perhaps one only need ask, “Who are your enemies?” There are many possible answers, and this question would strike many as odd, but the answers you receive would give light to answers to another question: “Can you conceive of another human being as your enemy?”
The Children of the Moon (Originally published on September 24, 2006)
It is my way to think in analogies. I look outside myself and see patterns whether they exist or not.
The globes of the day and night have had many stories told of them. They have been worshipped, despised, misunderstood but perhaps most of all they have shaped the visions of those they shed light upon.
The Sun and the Moon are often set at odds. But Nature does not work in opposition to itself. Both the Sun and the Moon were necessary in the formation of our home.
The Sun is brazen and proud. Its light is blinding and its heat can kill. It overpowers darkness and will not abide the light of the stars or the moon. Our world craves both it's light and heat. Our plants grow towards it and our animals frolick by it.
The Moon is soft and fickle. It will hide from us but its effects are always felt. It dos not banish the darkness or silence the stars. It will let the secret things of this world remain hidden.
The Children of the Sun see its light as nurturing. They have used its strength to cultivate the land. They praise the light for destroying the darkness. To them the unknown is to be feared.
The Children of the Moon miss the darkness. To them the unknown is the great driving force that makes life interesting. They know that life is not limited to one sphere; that there are many stars and each has its place.
As I said, Nature is not in opposition. The Children of the Moon and the Children of the Sun live together now although they did not always do so. They need one another. The land nust be cultivated and the wolves kept at bay. The unknown must be explored. The explorers must have somewhere to return to.
The globes of the day and night have had many stories told of them. They have been worshipped, despised, misunderstood but perhaps most of all they have shaped the visions of those they shed light upon.
The Sun and the Moon are often set at odds. But Nature does not work in opposition to itself. Both the Sun and the Moon were necessary in the formation of our home.
The Sun is brazen and proud. Its light is blinding and its heat can kill. It overpowers darkness and will not abide the light of the stars or the moon. Our world craves both it's light and heat. Our plants grow towards it and our animals frolick by it.
The Moon is soft and fickle. It will hide from us but its effects are always felt. It dos not banish the darkness or silence the stars. It will let the secret things of this world remain hidden.
The Children of the Sun see its light as nurturing. They have used its strength to cultivate the land. They praise the light for destroying the darkness. To them the unknown is to be feared.
The Children of the Moon miss the darkness. To them the unknown is the great driving force that makes life interesting. They know that life is not limited to one sphere; that there are many stars and each has its place.
As I said, Nature is not in opposition. The Children of the Moon and the Children of the Sun live together now although they did not always do so. They need one another. The land nust be cultivated and the wolves kept at bay. The unknown must be explored. The explorers must have somewhere to return to.
Walking Through Clouds (Originally published October 16, 2006)
On Thursday, October 5th my brother's world disintegrated. The women
he had pledged his heart to ended her life. My family and I caught
flights to Seattle the next day.
The days since have been a blur. I watched as people who had never met this young lady did everything in their power to aid the family. I watched as my brother was broken and rebuilt a dozen times. On Monday a memorial service was held. Tuesday morning those with passports (myself, my brother, and her cousin Cathy) accompanied the remains on a trip to her family home in County Down in Northern Ireland. Others would follow shortly afterward.
After crossing 6 time zones, I arrived in a place which seems more dream than anything else. A place where my phone didn't work and there were few traffic lights. A land where everything seemed green and unspoiled. The people spoke my language but were sometimes hard to understand. I walked in marshes that were on the side of hills and stepped in a boghole. I stood atop a mountain and looked down on a hidden lake. People had gathered from all around the world and all opened their hearts to us. There was a never-ending supply of tea and the moon was pink. The clouds danced around the hills and cars rolled uphill. I actually liked the taste of Guinness and they called each other by names I had never heard before. The beaches had no sand and the stars were out of place. My brother spoke softly and cried often. Everyone seemed short and the cars seemed tiny. The steering wheels were on the other side and they always drove in the left lane.
This was the place where we placed the body of a girl that radiated joy and yet had destroyed herself. This was the place where a question never asked was answered. This was the place where I witnessed someone arrive late at their own funeral.
If this place was real, I must return to it someday. In the interim, I shall live with the image in my brain of a hundred people walking for miles down country roads and of having the honor of carrying a person I had hoped to call sister.
The days since have been a blur. I watched as people who had never met this young lady did everything in their power to aid the family. I watched as my brother was broken and rebuilt a dozen times. On Monday a memorial service was held. Tuesday morning those with passports (myself, my brother, and her cousin Cathy) accompanied the remains on a trip to her family home in County Down in Northern Ireland. Others would follow shortly afterward.
After crossing 6 time zones, I arrived in a place which seems more dream than anything else. A place where my phone didn't work and there were few traffic lights. A land where everything seemed green and unspoiled. The people spoke my language but were sometimes hard to understand. I walked in marshes that were on the side of hills and stepped in a boghole. I stood atop a mountain and looked down on a hidden lake. People had gathered from all around the world and all opened their hearts to us. There was a never-ending supply of tea and the moon was pink. The clouds danced around the hills and cars rolled uphill. I actually liked the taste of Guinness and they called each other by names I had never heard before. The beaches had no sand and the stars were out of place. My brother spoke softly and cried often. Everyone seemed short and the cars seemed tiny. The steering wheels were on the other side and they always drove in the left lane.
This was the place where we placed the body of a girl that radiated joy and yet had destroyed herself. This was the place where a question never asked was answered. This was the place where I witnessed someone arrive late at their own funeral.
If this place was real, I must return to it someday. In the interim, I shall live with the image in my brain of a hundred people walking for miles down country roads and of having the honor of carrying a person I had hoped to call sister.
Affirming the cycle (Originally published on October 17, 2006)
The planets revolve around their stars and stars around galactic centers...
My phone was lost somewhere between Dublin and Newark. A minor annoyance that left others unable to reach me. This morning I checked my voicemail to find a message from my sister Betsy. During the trip, the need for some way to contact the outside world weighed heavily on me. I purchased a phone in the Dublin airport along with 20 euros of call time. When I left, I gave this phone to my brother so that we could remain in contact. My sister did not have the number and so was searching for it.
I called her back, gave her the number, and explained the international dialing codes. She then told me the reason she had for getting in contact with my brother Sean. Above and beyond the desire to check up on him that we all feel, she had news. It appears that he and I are going to be uncles. That's right. While we were in Northern Ireland confronting death, my sister was in Tennessee contemplating birth.
My sister was the first of the five of us to get married and will now be the first to have a child. I don't want to get too excited until an MD has confirmed it but... WOOOHOOO!!!
And so the cycle continues. The planets revolve...
My phone was lost somewhere between Dublin and Newark. A minor annoyance that left others unable to reach me. This morning I checked my voicemail to find a message from my sister Betsy. During the trip, the need for some way to contact the outside world weighed heavily on me. I purchased a phone in the Dublin airport along with 20 euros of call time. When I left, I gave this phone to my brother so that we could remain in contact. My sister did not have the number and so was searching for it.
I called her back, gave her the number, and explained the international dialing codes. She then told me the reason she had for getting in contact with my brother Sean. Above and beyond the desire to check up on him that we all feel, she had news. It appears that he and I are going to be uncles. That's right. While we were in Northern Ireland confronting death, my sister was in Tennessee contemplating birth.
My sister was the first of the five of us to get married and will now be the first to have a child. I don't want to get too excited until an MD has confirmed it but... WOOOHOOO!!!
And so the cycle continues. The planets revolve...
Time to think (Originally published on November 13, 2006)
It took me fifteen days. Fifteen days of not being myself. Fifteen
days of being unable to focus. Then I realized that something was
amiss. The blur that was October had drained me. My life has been on
hold during that time. But sometimes it only takes identifying the
problem to fix it. My brother returns to the United States tomorrow. I
only now realize that the time was far too short.
As a culture, we attempt to isolate our lives. We try to quantify the time of mourning with euphemisms like "bereavement". Our society was built by those that dedicated their lives to a body of work. The great figures of history, by and large, were considered distant by their relations. They were human beings who would have dived into work in a vain attempt to distract them from their grief.
For years, I pursued their ways. Coffee and the office for a cold rather than chicken soup and bed rest. I thought that work and life were inseparable. It wasn't bending to some corporate whim, it was doing exactly what I wanted to. I was always more driven than my bosses. It was never a daily grind or "working for a pay check". It was about a body of work. A series of projects I could look back on with pride.
A year ago, I began to see other things. Things that were just as rewarding as work. Last week, a lesson was taught to me. It took me a while to figure it out though. I may very well do great works. I may stitch myself into the fabric of history. But, even then, it wouldn't really mean anything.
We don't effect others at the office. Some piece of code I write or some product I develop will never move another human being. If I write the great American novel, it will be remembered, not me.
I guess I still forget what's important from time to time. I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't get distracted by the ebb and flow of a day.
I guess I still have a lot of work to do.
As a culture, we attempt to isolate our lives. We try to quantify the time of mourning with euphemisms like "bereavement". Our society was built by those that dedicated their lives to a body of work. The great figures of history, by and large, were considered distant by their relations. They were human beings who would have dived into work in a vain attempt to distract them from their grief.
For years, I pursued their ways. Coffee and the office for a cold rather than chicken soup and bed rest. I thought that work and life were inseparable. It wasn't bending to some corporate whim, it was doing exactly what I wanted to. I was always more driven than my bosses. It was never a daily grind or "working for a pay check". It was about a body of work. A series of projects I could look back on with pride.
A year ago, I began to see other things. Things that were just as rewarding as work. Last week, a lesson was taught to me. It took me a while to figure it out though. I may very well do great works. I may stitch myself into the fabric of history. But, even then, it wouldn't really mean anything.
We don't effect others at the office. Some piece of code I write or some product I develop will never move another human being. If I write the great American novel, it will be remembered, not me.
I guess I still forget what's important from time to time. I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't get distracted by the ebb and flow of a day.
I guess I still have a lot of work to do.
Perception (Originally published on November 26, 2006)
Ah, a universe of laws. A place of linear time. Objective reality.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.
The world begins to bend. The line between dreaming and waking shifts.
Do I sleep or have I simply closed my eyes?
A point expands to the infinite. Analysis thwarted.
Explanations unnecessary. The power of the mind released.
The self laid bare.
Perception altered. Logic dethroned.
The conscious and the subconscious join.
Everything is illuminated.
Ah, a universe of laws. A place of linear time. Objective reality.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.
The world begins to bend. The line between dreaming and waking shifts.
Do I sleep or have I simply closed my eyes?
A point expands to the infinite. Analysis thwarted.
Explanations unnecessary. The power of the mind released.
The self laid bare.
Perception altered. Logic dethroned.
The conscious and the subconscious join.
Everything is illuminated.
Ah, a universe of laws. A place of linear time. Objective reality.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.
Reflected In Their Eyes (Originally published on December 4, 2006)
It is an experience that is rare although not new to me. You see the
eyes of a loved one when they look on someone you have just met. You
see their eyes light up and follow their gaze. What happens next is
both instantaneous and magical.
Love goes out in all directions. It joins people. It spreads. I have always felt that we define our families. That we choose to consider someone a brother, a sister, an aunt, or an uncle regardless of bloodlines. I have been blessed with an amazing family. A group of people brought together by birth whom I am honored to consider friends.
That amazing family is growing. I realized recently that when I first saw my sister look at my brother-in-law, he became my friend. Whatever doubts I may have had vanished. Something just clicked. I was immediately aware that my sister was in love but there was something more. I felt immediately close to him.
I now look back and see the reaction occurring numerous times. Those things that make the people you love happy make you happy. It seems so simple. The experience itself is no less amazing.
Love goes out in all directions. It joins people. It spreads. I have always felt that we define our families. That we choose to consider someone a brother, a sister, an aunt, or an uncle regardless of bloodlines. I have been blessed with an amazing family. A group of people brought together by birth whom I am honored to consider friends.
That amazing family is growing. I realized recently that when I first saw my sister look at my brother-in-law, he became my friend. Whatever doubts I may have had vanished. Something just clicked. I was immediately aware that my sister was in love but there was something more. I felt immediately close to him.
I now look back and see the reaction occurring numerous times. Those things that make the people you love happy make you happy. It seems so simple. The experience itself is no less amazing.
Another day in paradise (Originally published on December 27, 2006)
Whether it's the pseudophredrine, a flu, or allergies it's hard to
say. It's been 5 days. I'm in another world. A world where cats and
dogs roam. My skin is dried out. My throat sore. My body wishes to leave
this place.
I don't care. This world, though it is not mine, calls to me. It erases its detriments from memory. I have never understood why. It is possible the frequency of the trips has something to do with it.
The patterns are odd here. Sleep seems disconnected from time. Phones are not answered. Light and shadow circle one another. The winter gray has set in.
I don't care. This world, though it is not mine, calls to me. It erases its detriments from memory. I have never understood why. It is possible the frequency of the trips has something to do with it.
The patterns are odd here. Sleep seems disconnected from time. Phones are not answered. Light and shadow circle one another. The winter gray has set in.
Spirituality for Atheists (Originally published on January 2, 2007)
I find it hard to describe to myself some times. I could use the
words of philosophers, but it would be an exercise in rhetoric. I could
use the words of mystics but that would only confuse the issue. I have
attempted to use the words of science, but they seem to result in a
series of contradictions. I cannot speak the language of poets. I
guess the only words left are my own.
The split is razor thin. A higher consciousness without a divine. The human spirit being indomitable but in no way connected with a human soul. Being connected to all without having a single point of connection. A universe of rules and numbers that is none the less magick. The incredible beauty of a series of random events leading to our existence. The idea of a universal architect actually belittles the design in my view.
I don't know why exactly these worlds don't align. If we conceive of the light and energy as coming from no other source than ourselves, would we not be awe struck? If all we have been able to accomplish was simply a glimpse of our own human potential, would that not empower us? A collective consciousness not doled out from some other plane, but having billions of unique sources. The memories of millennia passed on through genetics and teaching rather than sown into the tapestry of the Fates.
Maybe it seems too narcissistic. The idea that we are these incredible creatures that exist both in the cerebral and physical universes. I do have to admit that the idea of gray matter and electrical impulses being able to defy reason seems far fetched. Then I remember a series of 0s and 1s comprise the backbone of this machine. I think of the 60 symbols that comprise all of English literature. Look at our great sun and remember it's a huge ball of gas crushed by its own weight. Simple in design magnificent in effect.
My thought process may be categorical but it remains open. I cannot doubt the vision of others. The majesty of human potential leads me to believe that anything is possible. The world may end or begin anew. We can destroy it or rebuild it. We have the power to control the random events.
And so, I say "Namaste" and "Blessed Be". I may not mean them in quite the same way as others but I do mean them.
May the Light shine on you and from you. Happy New Year!
The split is razor thin. A higher consciousness without a divine. The human spirit being indomitable but in no way connected with a human soul. Being connected to all without having a single point of connection. A universe of rules and numbers that is none the less magick. The incredible beauty of a series of random events leading to our existence. The idea of a universal architect actually belittles the design in my view.
I don't know why exactly these worlds don't align. If we conceive of the light and energy as coming from no other source than ourselves, would we not be awe struck? If all we have been able to accomplish was simply a glimpse of our own human potential, would that not empower us? A collective consciousness not doled out from some other plane, but having billions of unique sources. The memories of millennia passed on through genetics and teaching rather than sown into the tapestry of the Fates.
Maybe it seems too narcissistic. The idea that we are these incredible creatures that exist both in the cerebral and physical universes. I do have to admit that the idea of gray matter and electrical impulses being able to defy reason seems far fetched. Then I remember a series of 0s and 1s comprise the backbone of this machine. I think of the 60 symbols that comprise all of English literature. Look at our great sun and remember it's a huge ball of gas crushed by its own weight. Simple in design magnificent in effect.
My thought process may be categorical but it remains open. I cannot doubt the vision of others. The majesty of human potential leads me to believe that anything is possible. The world may end or begin anew. We can destroy it or rebuild it. We have the power to control the random events.
And so, I say "Namaste" and "Blessed Be". I may not mean them in quite the same way as others but I do mean them.
May the Light shine on you and from you. Happy New Year!
Spring Cleaning (Originally published on January 7, 2007)
Perhaps "After Holiday Cleaning" is more accurate, but as the weather
is indicative of spring, the feeling is the same. Windows open. The
smell of Clorox slowly dissipating. A glass of wine on the table.
Dinner on the stove. One if those serene moments when the "To Do" list
in your head is all checked off. The traces of 2006 are gone. 2007 is
upon us and I'm anticipating a fabulous year. Then again, I always
anticipate a fabulous year. It's my way.
I'm not going to eulogize 2006. One of the reasons I write is to have a record of my thoughts at the time rather than through the screen of memory. I'd like to think I learned a bit. I'd like to think I helped others along the way. I know that I have no regrets. I know that I have not lost hope. My wish for all of you is that the same is true in your lives.
And now it's time to do another load of laundry and read a few more pages of Brave New World. Relaxed, renewed, and refreshed, it's time to jump into 2007.
I'm not going to eulogize 2006. One of the reasons I write is to have a record of my thoughts at the time rather than through the screen of memory. I'd like to think I learned a bit. I'd like to think I helped others along the way. I know that I have no regrets. I know that I have not lost hope. My wish for all of you is that the same is true in your lives.
And now it's time to do another load of laundry and read a few more pages of Brave New World. Relaxed, renewed, and refreshed, it's time to jump into 2007.
Refreshed (Originally published on January 13, 2007)
It seems so simple. Music, light, and good company. Every two weeks
I go to a place where the world just melts away. .It's an experience
that I've encountered numerous times in numerous environments. Last
night it was almost instantaneous. Five minutes after I walked in the
door, I felt free. I didn't really know how stressed I was until I felt
it leave me. Long hours and tight deadlines were left somewhere on a
dance floor.
I don't think I've ever thanked the people who share the experience or the people that organize it. I do so now, albeit in spirit. It's become so familiar to me and yet every night feels different. Endless compositions built on the same theme.
Now, it's Saturday. I will enjoy my recovered peace and user the power it grants me. There is a beautiful world out there which I have been blind to for a while. It's time to rediscover it.
I don't think I've ever thanked the people who share the experience or the people that organize it. I do so now, albeit in spirit. It's become so familiar to me and yet every night feels different. Endless compositions built on the same theme.
Now, it's Saturday. I will enjoy my recovered peace and user the power it grants me. There is a beautiful world out there which I have been blind to for a while. It's time to rediscover it.
Did god tell you to be a jerk? (Originally published on January 20, 2007)
I've been thinking over the last few days (as I have many times in
the past) of writing something long enough to print and bind. What I
would write has varied quite a bit over the years. I have pieces of an
unfinished novel going back to 1994, works of poetry that have never
seen the light of day, an autobiography written by a 16-year-old boy,
and pages and pages of what I can only describe as undated journal
entries.
I think I may have found yet another genre. I would refer to it as essay, however, essays are written to convince others of a particular opinion. I have given up on that. For now, I'll just start typing and see where it goes.
Preface
It happens every so often. A sequence of unconnected events form into a pattern. Recognizing these patterns has allowed the human consciousness of the natural world to grow. We as humans cannot even see past our pre-school years without the use of pattern recognition. However, that same power has negative effects. Humans can take pattern recognition to a level of bigotry and hate.
Its implications are obvious in many regards. Upon further study, we can often find that these patterns are not based on personal experiences. Cultures bring their own stereotypes. In many cases, the hate comes first. The mind will lock on to a pattern and accept evidence that supports it. As a result, if someone believes a certain way, their interpretations of experiences will foster that belief.
The scientific method has its roots in trying to counter-act this pattern recognition. Logically, every new experience should be weighted against all previous experiences. If at any time a theory does not hold, it must be discarded. If one can keep their mind open to all new possibilities, there are no limits to what can be accomplished.
Throughout my life though, I have seen a strange twist to this tale. Although the scientific method can not technically be a belief system, one can react to it as if it were. In my case, the effect happens when anyone disputes the validity of the approach. The Kansas State Board of Education is often the culprit. I do not try to open their mind to their point of view. I dismiss them wholeheartedly without consideration.
It's something I cannot relate to. I have never believed in anything without question. I have never had to. When I have experienced things I could not explain, I consider them exactly that. Many of those experiences have changed my view of the world. At one time, I had thought that nothing could defy logic. I now know better.
At one time, I let it aggravate me. I then came to the realization that such things can only effect my life if I let them. They are only pictures on a screen of words in newsprint. I have never met anyone who considered me an infidel, or damned, or fallen. If anyone has prayed for my soul, I was not aware of it. If anyone has viewed me as evil, they have not said anything.
But, there are times where I wish to cry out. To the man on the street corner who is calling for his god. To the man at a pulpit screaming hate over the airways. To the people all of the globe contemplating martyrdom.
Then I remember that these people believe something. No matter what I say or do, I will not be able to shift that belief. No one can force or persuade another to open their heart. In many cases, I feel that there are other motivations. I feel that power or money or politics drive this fervor. In some cases it may, but not in all. At its root, there is a belief. You can change the views of those seeking power. You can bend those seeking money to your will. But true believers cannot be reasoned with. There are many who believe things I find preposterous. Things that the whole of the scientific community finds preposterous. Evidence can be offered time and time again. The result will be the same.
I think I may have found yet another genre. I would refer to it as essay, however, essays are written to convince others of a particular opinion. I have given up on that. For now, I'll just start typing and see where it goes.
Preface
It happens every so often. A sequence of unconnected events form into a pattern. Recognizing these patterns has allowed the human consciousness of the natural world to grow. We as humans cannot even see past our pre-school years without the use of pattern recognition. However, that same power has negative effects. Humans can take pattern recognition to a level of bigotry and hate.
Its implications are obvious in many regards. Upon further study, we can often find that these patterns are not based on personal experiences. Cultures bring their own stereotypes. In many cases, the hate comes first. The mind will lock on to a pattern and accept evidence that supports it. As a result, if someone believes a certain way, their interpretations of experiences will foster that belief.
The scientific method has its roots in trying to counter-act this pattern recognition. Logically, every new experience should be weighted against all previous experiences. If at any time a theory does not hold, it must be discarded. If one can keep their mind open to all new possibilities, there are no limits to what can be accomplished.
Throughout my life though, I have seen a strange twist to this tale. Although the scientific method can not technically be a belief system, one can react to it as if it were. In my case, the effect happens when anyone disputes the validity of the approach. The Kansas State Board of Education is often the culprit. I do not try to open their mind to their point of view. I dismiss them wholeheartedly without consideration.
It's something I cannot relate to. I have never believed in anything without question. I have never had to. When I have experienced things I could not explain, I consider them exactly that. Many of those experiences have changed my view of the world. At one time, I had thought that nothing could defy logic. I now know better.
At one time, I let it aggravate me. I then came to the realization that such things can only effect my life if I let them. They are only pictures on a screen of words in newsprint. I have never met anyone who considered me an infidel, or damned, or fallen. If anyone has prayed for my soul, I was not aware of it. If anyone has viewed me as evil, they have not said anything.
But, there are times where I wish to cry out. To the man on the street corner who is calling for his god. To the man at a pulpit screaming hate over the airways. To the people all of the globe contemplating martyrdom.
Then I remember that these people believe something. No matter what I say or do, I will not be able to shift that belief. No one can force or persuade another to open their heart. In many cases, I feel that there are other motivations. I feel that power or money or politics drive this fervor. In some cases it may, but not in all. At its root, there is a belief. You can change the views of those seeking power. You can bend those seeking money to your will. But true believers cannot be reasoned with. There are many who believe things I find preposterous. Things that the whole of the scientific community finds preposterous. Evidence can be offered time and time again. The result will be the same.
Beauty in all its manifest forms (Originally published on March 11, 2007)
I was walking around today briefly. Our brief cold snap has ended
and perhaps winter along with it. We shall see. I have to admit I'm
not a huge fan of winter or more specifically of the cold. But, it has
a beauty to it. A stark realism inhabits it.
I seem to think of two forms of beauty: human-made and natural. In many cases, the one mirrors the other. This is our home. It's definition of beauty has been ours since the birth of our species. But we have stepped from it. Our languages have given us access to a form of beauty not known to the natural world. Our hands have made music that transcends what nature considers her score. Whether or not it surpasses it, I leave to each person's interpretation.
But, there does seem to me to be something are form of beauty does not deal well with. We have made our creations as timeless as possible. We think not of their appearance when in decay. Most of our thoughts of decay are negative and sometimes even hideous. We fear it and so we work to create the evergreen.
Nature has no such limitation. Although it may not be what we consider beauty, it considers decay as part of the endless cycle. Decay is the sustenance of the land. The dying tree still stands majestically albeit without its youthful color. When it does fall, it becomes food and shelter and a myriad of other things. Nature contains nothing for which the word dilapidated seems apropos.
Perhaps one day will we learn that nothing can stand forever. We have learned the power of the ruin. I think our next step is to give our ruins back to the earth. Let the ivy take the bricks apart. Let us see what nature will do with the Parthenon and the Colosseum and Stonehenge if left alone.
Perhaps over time the stone will be returned to the ground from which it came. Then we may see that the work of our hands is no more permanent than we are. Perhaps we can learn that decay is simply part of the cycle and turn from our fears.
I seem to think of two forms of beauty: human-made and natural. In many cases, the one mirrors the other. This is our home. It's definition of beauty has been ours since the birth of our species. But we have stepped from it. Our languages have given us access to a form of beauty not known to the natural world. Our hands have made music that transcends what nature considers her score. Whether or not it surpasses it, I leave to each person's interpretation.
But, there does seem to me to be something are form of beauty does not deal well with. We have made our creations as timeless as possible. We think not of their appearance when in decay. Most of our thoughts of decay are negative and sometimes even hideous. We fear it and so we work to create the evergreen.
Nature has no such limitation. Although it may not be what we consider beauty, it considers decay as part of the endless cycle. Decay is the sustenance of the land. The dying tree still stands majestically albeit without its youthful color. When it does fall, it becomes food and shelter and a myriad of other things. Nature contains nothing for which the word dilapidated seems apropos.
Perhaps one day will we learn that nothing can stand forever. We have learned the power of the ruin. I think our next step is to give our ruins back to the earth. Let the ivy take the bricks apart. Let us see what nature will do with the Parthenon and the Colosseum and Stonehenge if left alone.
Perhaps over time the stone will be returned to the ground from which it came. Then we may see that the work of our hands is no more permanent than we are. Perhaps we can learn that decay is simply part of the cycle and turn from our fears.
The power that knows and the instrument of knowing (Originally published on March 17, 2007)
I just finished reading the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (translated of
course). I was captivated by the eloquence and subtlety of the axioms.
While reading it, I was reminded of several Western philosophical
texts; chiefly Descartes' Discourse.
Where Descartes pages and pages of specious reasoning focused on proving what cannot be proved appalled me, the mere unanswered question of this author caused me pause. He writes "And if an object known only to a single mind were not cognized by that mind, would it then exist?"
We have all heard this question asked in various forms from the simplistic analogy of a tree falling to philosophical treatises touching all aspects of existence. The phrasing of this question is by far the most open, the most thought provoking. It is the question asked not of one who has accepted the material universe for all there life and is now breaking with the tradition but of one that has no pre-disposition.
Even I, a stringent believer in an objective universe, a man who dismissed Descartes and Kant as kowtowing to the Church, was intrigued by the question.
Why was this phrasing so powerful? The first few words are the key: "...an object known only to a single mind..." This is not pitted against the collective consciousness of millions, only of one. So, I'll expand this question. If you forget a dream does it have any presence? Do the visions of a schizophrenic have any reality to them? Was that brief glimpse out of the corner of your eye anything that can be measured, accounted for? When a thought is not expressed to others, what is it? It can leave a memory, yet it is perceived only by the mind. If it is forgotten, what happens then? Does it cease to exist? Is it moved to another area of the consciousness?
The ubiquitous bacteria of our world did exist before we knew of them, but at the same time, we did see their effects we simply misinterpreted them. We knew that people were dying of cholera, we just didn't know why. The structure of an atom was not known to us for most of our history, but we had evidence of it. Not all alchemical experiments were failures, just the most desired ones. The did end up creating gold paint, just not gold. By the way, you can turn lead into gold, it's just cost prohibitive and dangerous.
Separating the perceivable into those which are congnized by a single mind and those that are cognized by many as I have above may be a point of contention, but that is why Patanjali's question struck me as it did. The existence of an objective universe and the objectiveness of cognition should be separated at least for purposes of examination. If we can later blur the line between the two, then we can consider the objectiveness of the universe in a better light.
Where Western philosophers combine the knower of the thought with the thought and with the act of knowing and calling the combination of the three the self, there seems to be a significant division in Eastern thought. I, of course, need to learn more. One always need to learn more.
Strange that I've studied so little in this area. There are however some things that I find a little outside the realm of my world. Just as I doubt the divine in the Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition, I doubt the idea of superhuman acts in any world view. I do not believe any human can walk on water regardless of their level of consciousness.
The unrelenting question I am left with though regards a separation. Can the consciousness separate from the physical body? Are the two distinct? Is the great sum of all thought and knowledge contained in the electric impulses of a million neurons? This seems to be the pith of the matter. If the consciousness is somehow separate from the physical body, then nearly anything is possible. There would be then at least two worlds one objective and one subjective. The consciousness could be eternal and the great rules that govern the physical universe would be undermined. Whether or not someone could reach this state is of secondary concern. The very notion that such a state exists is worthy of consideration.
It seems to me that many philosophies have taken this separation for granted. I, unfortunately, have never found popular opinion as an argument of any worth. If the two can be separated, what keeps them intertwined?
I thank Patanjali for reminding me that nothing is known for certain. All theories must be tested and re-tested. Any world view that becomes dogmatic ceases to be relevant. Oops, that almost sounded dogmatic. Back to my books.
Where Descartes pages and pages of specious reasoning focused on proving what cannot be proved appalled me, the mere unanswered question of this author caused me pause. He writes "And if an object known only to a single mind were not cognized by that mind, would it then exist?"
We have all heard this question asked in various forms from the simplistic analogy of a tree falling to philosophical treatises touching all aspects of existence. The phrasing of this question is by far the most open, the most thought provoking. It is the question asked not of one who has accepted the material universe for all there life and is now breaking with the tradition but of one that has no pre-disposition.
Even I, a stringent believer in an objective universe, a man who dismissed Descartes and Kant as kowtowing to the Church, was intrigued by the question.
Why was this phrasing so powerful? The first few words are the key: "...an object known only to a single mind..." This is not pitted against the collective consciousness of millions, only of one. So, I'll expand this question. If you forget a dream does it have any presence? Do the visions of a schizophrenic have any reality to them? Was that brief glimpse out of the corner of your eye anything that can be measured, accounted for? When a thought is not expressed to others, what is it? It can leave a memory, yet it is perceived only by the mind. If it is forgotten, what happens then? Does it cease to exist? Is it moved to another area of the consciousness?
The ubiquitous bacteria of our world did exist before we knew of them, but at the same time, we did see their effects we simply misinterpreted them. We knew that people were dying of cholera, we just didn't know why. The structure of an atom was not known to us for most of our history, but we had evidence of it. Not all alchemical experiments were failures, just the most desired ones. The did end up creating gold paint, just not gold. By the way, you can turn lead into gold, it's just cost prohibitive and dangerous.
Separating the perceivable into those which are congnized by a single mind and those that are cognized by many as I have above may be a point of contention, but that is why Patanjali's question struck me as it did. The existence of an objective universe and the objectiveness of cognition should be separated at least for purposes of examination. If we can later blur the line between the two, then we can consider the objectiveness of the universe in a better light.
Where Western philosophers combine the knower of the thought with the thought and with the act of knowing and calling the combination of the three the self, there seems to be a significant division in Eastern thought. I, of course, need to learn more. One always need to learn more.
Strange that I've studied so little in this area. There are however some things that I find a little outside the realm of my world. Just as I doubt the divine in the Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition, I doubt the idea of superhuman acts in any world view. I do not believe any human can walk on water regardless of their level of consciousness.
The unrelenting question I am left with though regards a separation. Can the consciousness separate from the physical body? Are the two distinct? Is the great sum of all thought and knowledge contained in the electric impulses of a million neurons? This seems to be the pith of the matter. If the consciousness is somehow separate from the physical body, then nearly anything is possible. There would be then at least two worlds one objective and one subjective. The consciousness could be eternal and the great rules that govern the physical universe would be undermined. Whether or not someone could reach this state is of secondary concern. The very notion that such a state exists is worthy of consideration.
It seems to me that many philosophies have taken this separation for granted. I, unfortunately, have never found popular opinion as an argument of any worth. If the two can be separated, what keeps them intertwined?
I thank Patanjali for reminding me that nothing is known for certain. All theories must be tested and re-tested. Any world view that becomes dogmatic ceases to be relevant. Oops, that almost sounded dogmatic. Back to my books.
Spring has arrived (Originally published on April 1, 2007)
I don't base this statement on the Gregorian calendar, or Equinox
celebrations, or some silly rodent in Pennsylvania, or the Farmer's
Almanac. I base it on the warmth of the day. The cool of the evening.
But just now, Nature decided to set her own marker. The sky is lit up
by the great arc. The clouds are alive again. A billion watts of
static electricity are the form the alarm clock takes. Nature has
spoken. It is time for her children to wake.
As is her way, she does not merely scold. The thunder marks the coming of rain. It is light and short lived. Just a precursor to the season. Enough to give the first buds their start, nothing more for now. There is plenty of time.
We mark the date as the first of April. My sisters were born on this date. The Romans marked it as the start of their year. It is celebrated as a day of jocularity although the origin of the holiday escapes me.
I have been quite anxious for the beginning of Spring this year. The winter was very mild but something within me longed for the return of green. My life has been filled with anticipation recently. I sit, expectant. It is not usually my way. But I have had the feeling that something is coming for some time now. I have to remind myself to live in the now. Three months have already drawn to a close. Another storm has passed. Another day has passed...
It may be time to stop and smell the roses. Now that spring is here, there will be plenty of opportunities to do so.
As is her way, she does not merely scold. The thunder marks the coming of rain. It is light and short lived. Just a precursor to the season. Enough to give the first buds their start, nothing more for now. There is plenty of time.
We mark the date as the first of April. My sisters were born on this date. The Romans marked it as the start of their year. It is celebrated as a day of jocularity although the origin of the holiday escapes me.
I have been quite anxious for the beginning of Spring this year. The winter was very mild but something within me longed for the return of green. My life has been filled with anticipation recently. I sit, expectant. It is not usually my way. But I have had the feeling that something is coming for some time now. I have to remind myself to live in the now. Three months have already drawn to a close. Another storm has passed. Another day has passed...
It may be time to stop and smell the roses. Now that spring is here, there will be plenty of opportunities to do so.
Perceived value (Originally published on April 6, 2007)
I noticed something today. I was looking through one of those silly
catch penny circulars that fill mailboxes. I'm not sure why I didn't
throw it out in the mail room. I'm not overly concerned with the price
of meat at Acme since I have no plans to either walk to an Acme or eat
meat.
Something did strike me though as I looked at ads for "Wal-Iprofen". I had refused to buy into the brand recognition silliness. I don't care who's name is on my ketchup, my jeans, my underwear, or my laundry detergent. But, I'm quite particular about my electronics. It's not really brand recognition... more like stat recognition... or dependability recognition. Take a picture with a 2 MP camera and you'll know why people pay for 6 MP (I won't get into 10 MP vs. 6 MP because there are other issues besides resolution). A webcam will take crummy stills. Everyone I know who has owned a Gateway laptop had to get it repaired at least once. Does that mean that Gateway makes subpar laptops? Probably not. Will I buy a Gateway laptop anytime soon? Probably not.
What got me thinking about this was a little ad for a $50 digital camera. I still haven't purchased a digital camera. I just never seem to get around to it. But there was something in me that said "Buyer Beware". I have no opinions on the manufacturer. I've never read any reviews of this camera. In short, all that this "decision" is based on is intuition and preconceived notions. Yet, I dismissed the possibility. Would I have done the same if it was a Canon or a Nikon? I cannot say for certain.
A brand name does become an endorsement in the practical world. In the world of electronics, a bad reputation can have a serious impact on sales. Between the DRM silliness, flaming laptop batteries, proprietary formats, and overcharging for everything, I will probably never buy another Sony product. In my mind the brand name "Sony" is synonymous with "exploding batteries". Just like "Nike" is synonymous with "sweat shops" and "DeBeers" is synonymous with "slave traders".
So, I guess brand recognition has seeped into my subconscious. But as I haven't owned a television in over 10 years, I don't know what brands are popular at the moment. It works out in a way. If a brand is still going strong after a decade, their product probably doesn't suck.
Something did strike me though as I looked at ads for "Wal-Iprofen". I had refused to buy into the brand recognition silliness. I don't care who's name is on my ketchup, my jeans, my underwear, or my laundry detergent. But, I'm quite particular about my electronics. It's not really brand recognition... more like stat recognition... or dependability recognition. Take a picture with a 2 MP camera and you'll know why people pay for 6 MP (I won't get into 10 MP vs. 6 MP because there are other issues besides resolution). A webcam will take crummy stills. Everyone I know who has owned a Gateway laptop had to get it repaired at least once. Does that mean that Gateway makes subpar laptops? Probably not. Will I buy a Gateway laptop anytime soon? Probably not.
What got me thinking about this was a little ad for a $50 digital camera. I still haven't purchased a digital camera. I just never seem to get around to it. But there was something in me that said "Buyer Beware". I have no opinions on the manufacturer. I've never read any reviews of this camera. In short, all that this "decision" is based on is intuition and preconceived notions. Yet, I dismissed the possibility. Would I have done the same if it was a Canon or a Nikon? I cannot say for certain.
A brand name does become an endorsement in the practical world. In the world of electronics, a bad reputation can have a serious impact on sales. Between the DRM silliness, flaming laptop batteries, proprietary formats, and overcharging for everything, I will probably never buy another Sony product. In my mind the brand name "Sony" is synonymous with "exploding batteries". Just like "Nike" is synonymous with "sweat shops" and "DeBeers" is synonymous with "slave traders".
So, I guess brand recognition has seeped into my subconscious. But as I haven't owned a television in over 10 years, I don't know what brands are popular at the moment. It works out in a way. If a brand is still going strong after a decade, their product probably doesn't suck.
Self discovery (Originally published on May 13, 2007)
The conventional wisdom is that your body goes through some type of
metamorphosis every 7 years. Bodies do change. Whether the cycle is
really 7 years or the variance that may exist from person to person I
will not comment on. As I'm a fan of saying, humans see patterns
whether they exist or not.
My body is changing. I can feel that. I am more attune to it than ever. It is no longer a fan of alcohol. Variations in diet or sleep patterns become apparent at the gym, some of the effects are positive, some are negative. My lifestyle has become healthier not simply by intent but because I can actually feel the effect bad habits have on me.
But, what about psyches? I have always prided myself on, well, knowledge of self. I was born introspective. I was an introvert well into my twenties. I would not consider myself extroverted, but I now seek out others. I'm still no good at interacting in groups, but I want to be rather than just avoiding it as was my wont in times of old.
Parts of my personality are being given voice. Random silliness has a siren song I was not aware of. I didn't know I was an exhibitionist until a few months ago. A few weeks ago, one of the traits I felt was core to me just seemed to melt away. I decided to move my hatha yoga practice from after work to the middle of the day. Now, when everyone goes to lunch, instead of working through as I have for over 8 years, I go home. Get undressed, do some stretching, run through about a half-hour sequence, get dressed and go back to work. Then, to top it all off, I leave work somewhere between 5:30 and 6:00. Now, yes, quitting time is actually 5:00, but since I usually left at around 7:00, this change feels monumental. I still love my job. It's a great way to spend 40 or so hours a week. But, it no longer serves as an adequate description of who I am.
I could spend some time analyzing my self. Trying to define the new patterns. But, that's something else that's changed. I'm just gonna see how it turns out.
My body is changing. I can feel that. I am more attune to it than ever. It is no longer a fan of alcohol. Variations in diet or sleep patterns become apparent at the gym, some of the effects are positive, some are negative. My lifestyle has become healthier not simply by intent but because I can actually feel the effect bad habits have on me.
But, what about psyches? I have always prided myself on, well, knowledge of self. I was born introspective. I was an introvert well into my twenties. I would not consider myself extroverted, but I now seek out others. I'm still no good at interacting in groups, but I want to be rather than just avoiding it as was my wont in times of old.
Parts of my personality are being given voice. Random silliness has a siren song I was not aware of. I didn't know I was an exhibitionist until a few months ago. A few weeks ago, one of the traits I felt was core to me just seemed to melt away. I decided to move my hatha yoga practice from after work to the middle of the day. Now, when everyone goes to lunch, instead of working through as I have for over 8 years, I go home. Get undressed, do some stretching, run through about a half-hour sequence, get dressed and go back to work. Then, to top it all off, I leave work somewhere between 5:30 and 6:00. Now, yes, quitting time is actually 5:00, but since I usually left at around 7:00, this change feels monumental. I still love my job. It's a great way to spend 40 or so hours a week. But, it no longer serves as an adequate description of who I am.
I could spend some time analyzing my self. Trying to define the new patterns. But, that's something else that's changed. I'm just gonna see how it turns out.
Truth... beauty. Beauty... truth. (Originally published on May 23, 2007)
Occasionally, a sequence of events makes something terrible obvious. The events don't have to be monumental.
I was reminded tonight that it can be difficult to see the light in someone. I was reminded that petty things can annoy us and bring about feelings of dislike.
Then, as one often does, I considered my own eccentricities. Very few people are intentional inconsiderate. I may quite often say the wrong thing or not say something I should have. I'm quite difficult to offend. The same can not be said for all. If I am aware of any offense I do everything in my power to make amends, but I have found quite often that I was simply not aware of any wrongdoing. (In case you're wondering, this is meant to be abstract. I am not alluding to any specific event or person. I'm far too blunt for that.)
As if on cue, my sister reminded me just how silly it all is. When nothing is wrong, we seem to look for things. I assume that the man in the gym tonight wished me no ill. If he did, so be it. My life is peaceful and easy. I am loved and love in return. There is much joy in my life.
And so I wish everyone well. May they live their lives as they choose, considerate or not. May they have whatever they seek. As for me, I was reminded of what I seek.... Peace, love, and harmony.
If I am correct about the translation of Namaste, it is the perfect sentiment....
The light within me salutes the light within you.
I was reminded tonight that it can be difficult to see the light in someone. I was reminded that petty things can annoy us and bring about feelings of dislike.
Then, as one often does, I considered my own eccentricities. Very few people are intentional inconsiderate. I may quite often say the wrong thing or not say something I should have. I'm quite difficult to offend. The same can not be said for all. If I am aware of any offense I do everything in my power to make amends, but I have found quite often that I was simply not aware of any wrongdoing. (In case you're wondering, this is meant to be abstract. I am not alluding to any specific event or person. I'm far too blunt for that.)
As if on cue, my sister reminded me just how silly it all is. When nothing is wrong, we seem to look for things. I assume that the man in the gym tonight wished me no ill. If he did, so be it. My life is peaceful and easy. I am loved and love in return. There is much joy in my life.
And so I wish everyone well. May they live their lives as they choose, considerate or not. May they have whatever they seek. As for me, I was reminded of what I seek.... Peace, love, and harmony.
If I am correct about the translation of Namaste, it is the perfect sentiment....
The light within me salutes the light within you.
First of many (Originally published on May 27, 2007)
There will probably be many blog postings about the 10th anniversary
celebration. I just wanted to put into permanence the thoughts running
through my head.
Old faces, new faces, friendly faces, favorite faces.
Hours and hours we danced.
Inside, outside. Stomping, grooving, transcending.
The sun rose and on we went.
It was a weekend for me full of varied experiences. I could not ask for anything more. Stories about Woodstock from the mouths of those actually there. Hippies, now retired, carving the night with banjos and guitars. Sneaking off away from the lights. Reminding the world that free spirits are born in every generation. Tie dying shirts. Visiting the proverbial "camp" I had not known as a child. Driving on empty roads. Greeting, hugs. The ache in my feet and ankles I had missed so. Driving after staying up all night. Reading.
It's a weekend I will not soon forget. To all those who were a part of it, I say thank you. To the toddler who smiled and waved, the spinners, the dancers, the friends, the lover, the hippies, the digihippies, all of the people who filled my life with positive energy.... I wish you the joy you have given me.
Old faces, new faces, friendly faces, favorite faces.
Hours and hours we danced.
Inside, outside. Stomping, grooving, transcending.
The sun rose and on we went.
It was a weekend for me full of varied experiences. I could not ask for anything more. Stories about Woodstock from the mouths of those actually there. Hippies, now retired, carving the night with banjos and guitars. Sneaking off away from the lights. Reminding the world that free spirits are born in every generation. Tie dying shirts. Visiting the proverbial "camp" I had not known as a child. Driving on empty roads. Greeting, hugs. The ache in my feet and ankles I had missed so. Driving after staying up all night. Reading.
It's a weekend I will not soon forget. To all those who were a part of it, I say thank you. To the toddler who smiled and waved, the spinners, the dancers, the friends, the lover, the hippies, the digihippies, all of the people who filled my life with positive energy.... I wish you the joy you have given me.
Joy and perspective (Originally published on May 28, 2007)
I don't know how to start this. Every sentence I use that refers to
an experience as positive and negative seems wrong. All experiences
have their pluses and minuses. The experience itself can not be
positive or negative. So, I will "simply" say that not all of the
experiences of this weekend brought joy.
When I returned from my travels on Sunday, it was to an e-mail that ended a relationship. I then tried on a shirt I had tie dyed myself. Upon doing so I discovered that I am either allergic to the dyes or to the soda ash. My torso was an interesting shade of red.
But any negative emotion that may have arisen was squelched instantly. I am far too high to come down right now. There must have been something in the cranberry juice.
I jest, but this weekend I was surrounded by so many friends, by such positive energy, by so much love; that I have become impervious to sadness.
And so, to all those who have traded handshakes, smiles, hugs, energy, etc. with me (you know who you are)... peace, love, and harmony.
When I returned from my travels on Sunday, it was to an e-mail that ended a relationship. I then tried on a shirt I had tie dyed myself. Upon doing so I discovered that I am either allergic to the dyes or to the soda ash. My torso was an interesting shade of red.
But any negative emotion that may have arisen was squelched instantly. I am far too high to come down right now. There must have been something in the cranberry juice.
I jest, but this weekend I was surrounded by so many friends, by such positive energy, by so much love; that I have become impervious to sadness.
And so, to all those who have traded handshakes, smiles, hugs, energy, etc. with me (you know who you are)... peace, love, and harmony.
Simply Magick... (Originally published on June 4, 2007)
The radio wasn't displaying the time (just the station number), and so I'm not sure what I was listening to or where exactly I was. Somehow, that just seems apropos. When I arrived at my destination, the clock had already struck.
Music, and dancing, and sharing, oh my!
I can't shake the feeling that I did visit Oz. A place where things glowed in the dark and the world seemed distant. No phone to ring. No clocks. Even the sun decided to hide so that shadows would not mark the passage of time. Music everywhere. Gifts exchanged. The couple who fell asleep in front of my tent. Playing with a beach ball (sort of). Everywhere I looked, smiles. Truly, this place is only in my imagination. No place could be filled with such joy and love.
But wait, other people share these memories. The people that can suspend reality or transform it. People who have shown me a different way, a better way. What seems beyond belief, is that did it without trying. I started to miss them as soon as I had left them.
But, the car was from that other world. The world that knows it's 6:30 on Monday now. The people who loaned it to me in exchange for currency wanted it back by 3:00. Somewhere in my mind I knew that. I remembered the other world. When I finally saw a clock, it became apparent that a mad dash was now in order.
And so, I came back... in a way. Part of me is still dancing. It has been for over a year.
But, phones can connect me with those I love. I was showered in love throughout the day. As for clocks, I've never been a fan. If they can bring about any good, please let me know.
It is with great pleasure... (Originally published on June 13, 2007)
... that I present my neice, Audrey Roisin Marles. Born 3:32 AM on
June 13, 2007. She came into this world weighing 7 lbs. 12 oz. (3.52
kg) and is currently 20 1/2" (52 cm) long.
I was able to get to the hospital about 2 hours before she arrived. Mother and baby are both doing quite well. My sister is pouring forth light. I am amazed by her strength.
I will only be in Tennessee for another 24 hours or so. I'll take many pictures and post them to flickr when I return to Philadelphia.
I wish you all joy and love.
I was able to get to the hospital about 2 hours before she arrived. Mother and baby are both doing quite well. My sister is pouring forth light. I am amazed by her strength.
I will only be in Tennessee for another 24 hours or so. I'll take many pictures and post them to flickr when I return to Philadelphia.
I wish you all joy and love.
You knew I had to blog about this (Originally published on June 25, 2007)
Earth, fire, air, water
Space and time
Night and day
Love and life
Joy
A year ago, an old man drove to Artemas, PA and was overpowered. He was awakened from a dream.
Over the past year he has grown younger. The walls he had built began to collapse. He began a journey to an unknown destination. 4 days ago he returned to the sacred place. He looked different; he felt different; and, I like to think, he was different in his core. The place seemed very different. At first he thought that the event had changed; that organizational changes, the weather, or recycling were having dramatic effects. These things did have an effect. The organizers, staff, and community at large, had put together a beautiful, well thought out event. But, the fundamental change was in the observer. The energy that was palpable had been there the years before. Now, he was able to feel it. He can still feel it. Tingling his every fiber. Causing his eyes to tear up from the pure joy of it.
He had to leave in time. Such places can not be visited for too long. The joy, the knowledge, the love needs time to bear fruit within the psyche. He let the hesitation, self doubt, and fear within him pour into the Earth. She absorbed all that he gave. For 3 days, she took him in and let him heal. She taught him so much that it will take time to absorb it. The journey continues. He still has much to learn.
There's far too much to write now. I found paradise. I am not certain how much of it I'm allowed to keep. It wasn't about the yoga, the dancing, the music, the deco, the food, the vistas, the senses... It was the people, the energy, the love, the joy, the beauty. Hundreds of people who showed me only kindness. Hugs, conversations, sharing...
I thank you all. I hope sincerely that I was able to reflect some of the light you gave off. I love you all.
Space and time
Night and day
Love and life
Joy
A year ago, an old man drove to Artemas, PA and was overpowered. He was awakened from a dream.
Over the past year he has grown younger. The walls he had built began to collapse. He began a journey to an unknown destination. 4 days ago he returned to the sacred place. He looked different; he felt different; and, I like to think, he was different in his core. The place seemed very different. At first he thought that the event had changed; that organizational changes, the weather, or recycling were having dramatic effects. These things did have an effect. The organizers, staff, and community at large, had put together a beautiful, well thought out event. But, the fundamental change was in the observer. The energy that was palpable had been there the years before. Now, he was able to feel it. He can still feel it. Tingling his every fiber. Causing his eyes to tear up from the pure joy of it.
He had to leave in time. Such places can not be visited for too long. The joy, the knowledge, the love needs time to bear fruit within the psyche. He let the hesitation, self doubt, and fear within him pour into the Earth. She absorbed all that he gave. For 3 days, she took him in and let him heal. She taught him so much that it will take time to absorb it. The journey continues. He still has much to learn.
There's far too much to write now. I found paradise. I am not certain how much of it I'm allowed to keep. It wasn't about the yoga, the dancing, the music, the deco, the food, the vistas, the senses... It was the people, the energy, the love, the joy, the beauty. Hundreds of people who showed me only kindness. Hugs, conversations, sharing...
I thank you all. I hope sincerely that I was able to reflect some of the light you gave off. I love you all.
I'm still there... (Originally published on June 30, 2007)
Over the past week, I've looked at photos, read reviews (Thanks Dave), watched video, scanned blogs...
One thing becomes clear. Nothing is ever going to be the same. Something clicked in a little space outside the world. I spent a weekend not knowing if I had poison ivy. Objective reality became less objective.
The border line between the two worlds blurred. The reflection in the mirror shattered. I came back to work and didn't care. I wanted simply to communicate to reach out to those I know and those I love. I could not focus. I put in my time, but my heart wasn't in it.
I was trying to unlock a puzzle. A question that an old part of me would not leave unanswered. Was it real? Was it temporary? Had I simply taken a vacation from reality? At first, I negated the question. The cynic that asked it was in his death throes. I would simply let him die with the question on his lips.
But, to leave a question unanswered is to give it another kind of power. I split the difference. I let time answer for me. The short term results are in. If it was a dream, I have not awoken from it. Artemas, PA exists in the "real world". The costume, strings, yarn, and ribbon are still here. My clothes are still stained. I still own the drum I purchased.
But most of all, my heart is still open. Maybe I did leave my chakras open when I was in a small clearing underneath a dream catcher. I love that chakras is considered misspelled by my browser. It somehow seems so indicative of the world I thought I knew. I do apologize if I did misspell it. I'm very young.
If the tingle that is flowing through me right now is a dream, so be it. If it is something beyond my comprehension, so be it. I know I had only felt it once before during the first 30 years of my life and now it grabs hold of me randomly and fills me to bursting.
I think it's love. Love for everything that I see, everything that I know. Joy wanting to pour forth from every fiber of my being.
Words do not have the power to express what I need to. I wish there was a way to simply hug all of you over the wires. To imbue these 1s and 0s with the energy coursing through me and send it out.
One thing becomes clear. Nothing is ever going to be the same. Something clicked in a little space outside the world. I spent a weekend not knowing if I had poison ivy. Objective reality became less objective.
The border line between the two worlds blurred. The reflection in the mirror shattered. I came back to work and didn't care. I wanted simply to communicate to reach out to those I know and those I love. I could not focus. I put in my time, but my heart wasn't in it.
I was trying to unlock a puzzle. A question that an old part of me would not leave unanswered. Was it real? Was it temporary? Had I simply taken a vacation from reality? At first, I negated the question. The cynic that asked it was in his death throes. I would simply let him die with the question on his lips.
But, to leave a question unanswered is to give it another kind of power. I split the difference. I let time answer for me. The short term results are in. If it was a dream, I have not awoken from it. Artemas, PA exists in the "real world". The costume, strings, yarn, and ribbon are still here. My clothes are still stained. I still own the drum I purchased.
But most of all, my heart is still open. Maybe I did leave my chakras open when I was in a small clearing underneath a dream catcher. I love that chakras is considered misspelled by my browser. It somehow seems so indicative of the world I thought I knew. I do apologize if I did misspell it. I'm very young.
If the tingle that is flowing through me right now is a dream, so be it. If it is something beyond my comprehension, so be it. I know I had only felt it once before during the first 30 years of my life and now it grabs hold of me randomly and fills me to bursting.
I think it's love. Love for everything that I see, everything that I know. Joy wanting to pour forth from every fiber of my being.
Words do not have the power to express what I need to. I wish there was a way to simply hug all of you over the wires. To imbue these 1s and 0s with the energy coursing through me and send it out.
First draft... what do you think? (Originally published on July 6, 2007)
My sister has asked me to read at her wedding. I couldn't possibly
borrow someone else's words. Here's what I've come up with so far.
Reflections of another time
Five children seated, laughing
Pure joy
Dozens of chair
Two people standing hand in hand
A sparkle in their eyes
Pure joy
Many roads have brought us here
To witness a beginning
The are well prepared
The road well worn yet new
I look upon them now
The light of the sun at dawn
Full of promise
Powerful yet kind
Love surrounds them
Love pours from them
To simply witness this
Pure joy
I do not know the road
I can offer them no aid
I look into their eyes
They do not need my help
It has been said "two become one"
But I say look upon them
Between them such light
A thousand new beginnings
The two become many
Pure joy
May the world be kind
My time temper this bond
May you ever know
Pure joy
Reflections of another time
Five children seated, laughing
Pure joy
Dozens of chair
Two people standing hand in hand
A sparkle in their eyes
Pure joy
Many roads have brought us here
To witness a beginning
The are well prepared
The road well worn yet new
I look upon them now
The light of the sun at dawn
Full of promise
Powerful yet kind
Love surrounds them
Love pours from them
To simply witness this
Pure joy
I do not know the road
I can offer them no aid
I look into their eyes
They do not need my help
It has been said "two become one"
But I say look upon them
Between them such light
A thousand new beginnings
The two become many
Pure joy
May the world be kind
My time temper this bond
May you ever know
Pure joy
What a weekend! (Originally published on August 13, 2007)
I had an amazing weekend. You know what that means... time to blog.
I will preface the description of the weekend with a description of the week. In a rare fit of work addiction, I pulled some ridiculous hours and averaged about 5 hours of sleep a night. On Thursday night, I joined a young women (who will remain nameless because I feel the strange need to be mysterious at the moment) for dinner and live music. We went to a pub named The Shanachie where we listened to a group named The Malones and then hung out at her apartment. We talked into the wee hours as we are wont to do. On Friday, I worked a longer shift than planned. Lynne called and let me know that Justin, Fig, and Barb could use a ride to the Pines. I crashed around 8:00 or so on Friday night and didn't wake up for 14 hours.
Saturday involved just about everything. I went shopping for my sister's wedding shower, printed out pages and pages of directions, and rented a car. I also took my phone to the Sprint store to get it fixed. Over the last few days it has not been charging. I realized the LED indicator light wasn't coming on. It turns out the charging/syncing/communication port had come lose. Well, after waiting in a very unpleasant situation for an hour or so, it turns out that they can't fix it. They would have to replace it. Well, instead of just replacing it, they upgraded it to its replacement. Oddly enough, my contract is now up and so I am eligible for an upgrade. This is U.S. cell carrier speak for "If you renew your contract, we'll give you one of the ridiculous discounts on phones". For this reason, I had been eyeing up its replacement while waiting. I won't go nuts listing the features but it is taking a great force of will. End result: free new phone. Recommendation to others: get the insurance. That $6/month has saved me over $800 in the last year.
Saturday night we gathered at Barb's. I go to meet two more great people. We loaded up the car and headed for my favorite spot in New Jersey. We got there at about 2:00 AM. I danced and hugged and laughed and smiled. Describing the Pines would be like describing the family that were gathered there. One might as well try to right the definition of love. I did wish to note that the helicopter and the young man who got lost in the sun stood out. I'll have to touch base with everyone and see what became of both of them. I finally left at 12:30 as I had a previous engagement with my family by blood.
I drove from the undisclosed location to Brigantine. I parked the car down the street, got changed and tried to clear any ash from visible areas. I then walked into the pandemonium that seemed to punctuate my youth. Roughly 18 adults and as many children were gathered to shower my sister and her fiancee with gifts. I actually recall a couple of the names. I did make the mistake of sitting on the couch and fell asleep moments later. I spoke to my father as I often do and got the news from everyone. At around 8:00 PM, I left and took the groom and as many gifts as would fit into the Chevy Aveo (which only apparently got 24 MPG... bummer... sorry Mother Nature).
By the time I got home it was about 10:30. I called the the young women who will still remain nameless and crashed.
Can I do it again?
I will preface the description of the weekend with a description of the week. In a rare fit of work addiction, I pulled some ridiculous hours and averaged about 5 hours of sleep a night. On Thursday night, I joined a young women (who will remain nameless because I feel the strange need to be mysterious at the moment) for dinner and live music. We went to a pub named The Shanachie where we listened to a group named The Malones and then hung out at her apartment. We talked into the wee hours as we are wont to do. On Friday, I worked a longer shift than planned. Lynne called and let me know that Justin, Fig, and Barb could use a ride to the Pines. I crashed around 8:00 or so on Friday night and didn't wake up for 14 hours.
Saturday involved just about everything. I went shopping for my sister's wedding shower, printed out pages and pages of directions, and rented a car. I also took my phone to the Sprint store to get it fixed. Over the last few days it has not been charging. I realized the LED indicator light wasn't coming on. It turns out the charging/syncing/communication port had come lose. Well, after waiting in a very unpleasant situation for an hour or so, it turns out that they can't fix it. They would have to replace it. Well, instead of just replacing it, they upgraded it to its replacement. Oddly enough, my contract is now up and so I am eligible for an upgrade. This is U.S. cell carrier speak for "If you renew your contract, we'll give you one of the ridiculous discounts on phones". For this reason, I had been eyeing up its replacement while waiting. I won't go nuts listing the features but it is taking a great force of will. End result: free new phone. Recommendation to others: get the insurance. That $6/month has saved me over $800 in the last year.
Saturday night we gathered at Barb's. I go to meet two more great people. We loaded up the car and headed for my favorite spot in New Jersey. We got there at about 2:00 AM. I danced and hugged and laughed and smiled. Describing the Pines would be like describing the family that were gathered there. One might as well try to right the definition of love. I did wish to note that the helicopter and the young man who got lost in the sun stood out. I'll have to touch base with everyone and see what became of both of them. I finally left at 12:30 as I had a previous engagement with my family by blood.
I drove from the undisclosed location to Brigantine. I parked the car down the street, got changed and tried to clear any ash from visible areas. I then walked into the pandemonium that seemed to punctuate my youth. Roughly 18 adults and as many children were gathered to shower my sister and her fiancee with gifts. I actually recall a couple of the names. I did make the mistake of sitting on the couch and fell asleep moments later. I spoke to my father as I often do and got the news from everyone. At around 8:00 PM, I left and took the groom and as many gifts as would fit into the Chevy Aveo (which only apparently got 24 MPG... bummer... sorry Mother Nature).
By the time I got home it was about 10:30. I called the the young women who will still remain nameless and crashed.
Can I do it again?
Desire to vent (Originally published on August 14, 2007)
Okay, I know it is a departure and I usually don't like to type out topics of conversation.
I used to write about completely abstract things and never put down the empirical, the real, the day-to-day. My life has changed since then. I have changed significantly since then.
Somewhere along the way I learned that all I can do is be. I learned to see the beauty in the world. I may not fix the world's problems but I will be the change I wish to see in the world. I will do what I can to lessen the pain of my brothers and sisters and I will do what I can to support the causes I believe in.
I am human and we get frustrated. My latest frustration stems from a see of discussion loosely grouped under the topic of immigration. As people shake their fists in the air and rattle sabers, pictures run through my head. The pictures were taken of third-class and steerage passengers on a little island off the coast of New Jersey. Not all of the photos are pleasant. The island was called the Island of Tears by some. Millions of people poured into this country from 1892 to 1924. They were men, women, and children that were hoping for a better life. Many of them would return to Europe to fight for their new country. Many would not be allowed in. Many would have their names changed indiscriminately. I would love to retell a personal story here but the Musick's were already here. They were from an earlier wave of immigration to reach our shores. A wave before photography.
The pictures are very different now. Men and women running across barren lend towards a fence while being chased by INS vehicles. A collection of rotted wood referred to as "a raft" slowly making its way across the Carribean. The words inscribed on a huge statue screaming "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free."
But we've done away with all that. Even marrying one of us doesn't guarantee you a right to live here. There are an estimated 30 million people living here illegally. Although I doubt this figure as it would represent 1/10 of our population, I'll allow it for the sake of argument. They pick our fruit, wash our dishes, clean our homes, and generally allow us to live the life we do.
I think people have tried the wrong tact in some cases when discussing this issue. I mean human decency can always be countered by lies and fear mongering. We are a capitalist country after all, so let us speak of this from a purely economical standpoint. Let's say there are 30 million people living here illegally. Then it would probably stand to reason that they are not paying income tax. Well, let me see we start by grandfathering people in. If you've lived here for 20 years, you are an American. Yes, this will be hard to verify. Oh well, more citizens, more taxpayers. Oh, that's right if you bring them on the payroll you have to pay them minimum wage. Minimum wage will actually be a pay increase in many cases even though it is abysmally low. Well, if you increase the wages of 40 million people guess what you end up with... 30 million consumers. Now, I know what you're thinking. If the wineries have to pay people minimum wage, what will happen. The answer: California wines will probably increase in price. Since wine is a luxury item and also taxed, the sale of more expensive wine will again increase the tax base.
But, you say, won't some growers go out of business? This is possible. The growers that are over stretched and rely on underpaid migrant labor for their picking may very well be adversely effected. But as it is illegal to hire labors that have entered the country illegally, I'm sure that very few growers are actually doing it. But what about the service industry? Won't they be hit? Again, are there people working illegally in kitchens? I am so surprised. I guess we would to pay them $5.85 an hour as well. Wait, if you start paying all the kitchen staff minimum wage won't the front of the house demand more money. I suppose so.
Waitresses and bartenders getting paid a legal wage plus tips! The outrage! I know, I dared to speak it. But I am not a communist. I am looking at this from a simple matter of capital. The ridiculousness of having people receive checks for null or for pennies leads not only to laughter among members of the industry but again to less tax revenue.
Basically, you can be evil and still support the opening of our borders and still let people live hand to mouth on the ridiculously low minimum wage. And you can do the most evil thing of all... hide your intentions. What will appear to the outside world as the only logical step will actually be brought about by greed. There are 30 million people that can be brought into the rat race of credit cards and debt counseling. It's an entire market to sell your products to. And the rich and powerful won't be negatively effected. I mean, do congressman actually drink California wines? They may have to start paying the servants, but you can't run for office and be connected with illegal labor.
Okay, I think I'm done now. I feel much better.
I used to write about completely abstract things and never put down the empirical, the real, the day-to-day. My life has changed since then. I have changed significantly since then.
Somewhere along the way I learned that all I can do is be. I learned to see the beauty in the world. I may not fix the world's problems but I will be the change I wish to see in the world. I will do what I can to lessen the pain of my brothers and sisters and I will do what I can to support the causes I believe in.
I am human and we get frustrated. My latest frustration stems from a see of discussion loosely grouped under the topic of immigration. As people shake their fists in the air and rattle sabers, pictures run through my head. The pictures were taken of third-class and steerage passengers on a little island off the coast of New Jersey. Not all of the photos are pleasant. The island was called the Island of Tears by some. Millions of people poured into this country from 1892 to 1924. They were men, women, and children that were hoping for a better life. Many of them would return to Europe to fight for their new country. Many would not be allowed in. Many would have their names changed indiscriminately. I would love to retell a personal story here but the Musick's were already here. They were from an earlier wave of immigration to reach our shores. A wave before photography.
The pictures are very different now. Men and women running across barren lend towards a fence while being chased by INS vehicles. A collection of rotted wood referred to as "a raft" slowly making its way across the Carribean. The words inscribed on a huge statue screaming "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free."
But we've done away with all that. Even marrying one of us doesn't guarantee you a right to live here. There are an estimated 30 million people living here illegally. Although I doubt this figure as it would represent 1/10 of our population, I'll allow it for the sake of argument. They pick our fruit, wash our dishes, clean our homes, and generally allow us to live the life we do.
I think people have tried the wrong tact in some cases when discussing this issue. I mean human decency can always be countered by lies and fear mongering. We are a capitalist country after all, so let us speak of this from a purely economical standpoint. Let's say there are 30 million people living here illegally. Then it would probably stand to reason that they are not paying income tax. Well, let me see we start by grandfathering people in. If you've lived here for 20 years, you are an American. Yes, this will be hard to verify. Oh well, more citizens, more taxpayers. Oh, that's right if you bring them on the payroll you have to pay them minimum wage. Minimum wage will actually be a pay increase in many cases even though it is abysmally low. Well, if you increase the wages of 40 million people guess what you end up with... 30 million consumers. Now, I know what you're thinking. If the wineries have to pay people minimum wage, what will happen. The answer: California wines will probably increase in price. Since wine is a luxury item and also taxed, the sale of more expensive wine will again increase the tax base.
But, you say, won't some growers go out of business? This is possible. The growers that are over stretched and rely on underpaid migrant labor for their picking may very well be adversely effected. But as it is illegal to hire labors that have entered the country illegally, I'm sure that very few growers are actually doing it. But what about the service industry? Won't they be hit? Again, are there people working illegally in kitchens? I am so surprised. I guess we would to pay them $5.85 an hour as well. Wait, if you start paying all the kitchen staff minimum wage won't the front of the house demand more money. I suppose so.
Waitresses and bartenders getting paid a legal wage plus tips! The outrage! I know, I dared to speak it. But I am not a communist. I am looking at this from a simple matter of capital. The ridiculousness of having people receive checks for null or for pennies leads not only to laughter among members of the industry but again to less tax revenue.
Basically, you can be evil and still support the opening of our borders and still let people live hand to mouth on the ridiculously low minimum wage. And you can do the most evil thing of all... hide your intentions. What will appear to the outside world as the only logical step will actually be brought about by greed. There are 30 million people that can be brought into the rat race of credit cards and debt counseling. It's an entire market to sell your products to. And the rich and powerful won't be negatively effected. I mean, do congressman actually drink California wines? They may have to start paying the servants, but you can't run for office and be connected with illegal labor.
Okay, I think I'm done now. I feel much better.
The impossible gift... an older brother (Originally published on September 26, 2007)
On Saturday two people were joined according to our legal system. As
my brother noted, they were actually joined some time ago. The moment
they looked into one another's eyes and thought "forever". My sister
has now joined the ranks of the married.
I was given the opportunity to read during the event. I had read it a dozen times, written every word, but memory left me somewhere on that beach. Although I had not anticipated that, I was prepared for it.
The week passed too quickly. I packed on Sunday night and returned to this place I think of as home. There are a million stories from those 5 days. In the end though, they are already passing away. The story is simple really. John Scaringelli and Megan Musick were married in Brigantine, New Jersey. The event was witnessed by some 200 persons.
As for me, I saw love. I was surrounded by it. It poured forth in all directions. The walls that separate people were cast aside.
I now have 3 brothers according to the world at large. That's just fucking cool.
I was given the opportunity to read during the event. I had read it a dozen times, written every word, but memory left me somewhere on that beach. Although I had not anticipated that, I was prepared for it.
The week passed too quickly. I packed on Sunday night and returned to this place I think of as home. There are a million stories from those 5 days. In the end though, they are already passing away. The story is simple really. John Scaringelli and Megan Musick were married in Brigantine, New Jersey. The event was witnessed by some 200 persons.
As for me, I saw love. I was surrounded by it. It poured forth in all directions. The walls that separate people were cast aside.
I now have 3 brothers according to the world at large. That's just fucking cool.
I forgot to write... (Originally published on January 22, 2008)
It's been a while. But as my sister and I are were discussing this
evening, we haven't had time to process it all. So let's just start
with a bird's eye view. Since I last wrote, my life has been filled
with more magick than I thought possible.
For those of you who are not aware, on December 29, 2007 I ended up with a 4th brother. That's right, all 3 of my sisters are now married. 7 has become 11 in 2 short years. My mother will need a bigger mantelpiece for all the stockings.
Strangely, New Year's Eve did not effect me. I was in Mt. Juliet, TN when the year came to a close. The days without sleep caught up to me around 10:30 or so, and I was awoken by fireworks and cheering. In a way, I am not ready to say goodbye to 2007. I don't know if I ever truly will. Many years seem to be merely part of they cycle, a combination of beginnings and endings. 2007 was a year of birth.
Many of my postings in 2007 related changes in the lives of others, the magick reflected from others. My first of 2008 started out that way as well. But something has happened to me recently. On a road in the night, I was overcome. I still don't know if the driver saw me or could hear the change in my voice as we sang to one another. It matters not. I couldn't have stopped the tears if I wanted to. I had run into magick in it's pure form.
I had fallen in love.
For those of you who have met Liz, you know I really didn't have a choice. It's amazing it took this long. I must be quite the cynic. :-)
I could go on forever. The last year could fill a memoir. The last month could fill another. But baking protein bars, running a 6-minute mile, and spinning poi in the middle of the Nashville airport all seem a little insignificant right now.
As for the large issues facing our world as a whole, I've found a better forum for discussing those. :-)
For those of you who are not aware, on December 29, 2007 I ended up with a 4th brother. That's right, all 3 of my sisters are now married. 7 has become 11 in 2 short years. My mother will need a bigger mantelpiece for all the stockings.
Strangely, New Year's Eve did not effect me. I was in Mt. Juliet, TN when the year came to a close. The days without sleep caught up to me around 10:30 or so, and I was awoken by fireworks and cheering. In a way, I am not ready to say goodbye to 2007. I don't know if I ever truly will. Many years seem to be merely part of they cycle, a combination of beginnings and endings. 2007 was a year of birth.
Many of my postings in 2007 related changes in the lives of others, the magick reflected from others. My first of 2008 started out that way as well. But something has happened to me recently. On a road in the night, I was overcome. I still don't know if the driver saw me or could hear the change in my voice as we sang to one another. It matters not. I couldn't have stopped the tears if I wanted to. I had run into magick in it's pure form.
I had fallen in love.
For those of you who have met Liz, you know I really didn't have a choice. It's amazing it took this long. I must be quite the cynic. :-)
I could go on forever. The last year could fill a memoir. The last month could fill another. But baking protein bars, running a 6-minute mile, and spinning poi in the middle of the Nashville airport all seem a little insignificant right now.
As for the large issues facing our world as a whole, I've found a better forum for discussing those. :-)
Oh my (Originally published on January 24, 2008)
I would like to thank Kilowatts for a reminder. One sent to him
through the ages. Charley Chaplin reminding us about life. I sometimes
forget the lessons I have learned. I sometimes forget that it's all a
cosmic joke.
But every once in a while, I laugh... I laugh with an earnestness that amazes people. I laugh as if the world is but a figment of my imagination. I laugh is if I could die tomorrow., because.... well, I can.
But, that sounds nihilistic. We fear nihilism. We have all run into those who were thinking of or did take their own life. But knowledge by its nature is dangerous. If we ignored all that was dangerous, we would still live in caves (assuming we got that far).
But here I am again. Looking at the world in amazement. It all seems so simple. The paths greed, hate, anger, and despair take are obvious. The paths love, faith, and hope go down are unpredictable.
In the end, we started out as talking monkeys. Computers surrounded in flesh. However, somewhere along the way, we became more. We broke the bonds. We left the physical plane. We took ourselves out of the evolutionary cycle. At that moment we became limitless. We stumbled across the very energy that drives the universe. We learned to manipulate things to our will. We became something else; something that could not be calculated or quantified.
So I ask everyone to look around. Take joy in the unpredictable. Take joy in those things that logic can't explain. In my limited experience, those were the only things that mattered.
But every once in a while, I laugh... I laugh with an earnestness that amazes people. I laugh as if the world is but a figment of my imagination. I laugh is if I could die tomorrow., because.... well, I can.
But, that sounds nihilistic. We fear nihilism. We have all run into those who were thinking of or did take their own life. But knowledge by its nature is dangerous. If we ignored all that was dangerous, we would still live in caves (assuming we got that far).
But here I am again. Looking at the world in amazement. It all seems so simple. The paths greed, hate, anger, and despair take are obvious. The paths love, faith, and hope go down are unpredictable.
In the end, we started out as talking monkeys. Computers surrounded in flesh. However, somewhere along the way, we became more. We broke the bonds. We left the physical plane. We took ourselves out of the evolutionary cycle. At that moment we became limitless. We stumbled across the very energy that drives the universe. We learned to manipulate things to our will. We became something else; something that could not be calculated or quantified.
So I ask everyone to look around. Take joy in the unpredictable. Take joy in those things that logic can't explain. In my limited experience, those were the only things that mattered.
Where to begin... (Originally published on May 21, 2008)
It's been a while. A long strange trip actually. I just needed to
write. To get thoughts to move from my brain down to my fingers. To
have knowledge spread.
The events of the last few months have seemed amplified. Somewhere along the way, my siblings and I have become adults. This fact should have been clear several times, but the idea was somehow abstracted. This week, it became less abstract. My father went into the hospital last week complaining of chest pains. He didn't think much of it at the time. Nor did his doctor's initially. They began examining him and found some arterial blockage. By the time Friday rolled around, the decision had been made to have bypass surgery. The surgery was scheduled for Monday. My sister Megan and I flew down to Nashville on Saturday.
My father is currently out of ICU and recovering from a quadruple bypass. There was no damage. There will be some lifestyle changes, but he should be back up and around in a couple of weeks. He's only 55 and our friends in the medical field have become quite adept over the last few decades.
It wasn't until I was returning to Philadelphia on Tuesday that something seemed to sink in: the number of things going on simultaneously. My sister Betsy is pregnant with her second. She was in Washington state looking at houses for her upcoming move. Her daughter is approaching her first birthday. Her second wedding anniversary was the day after his surgery. We stayed with Bridget and attempted to entertain the lovely Audrey while her father worked on the house in preparation for sale. Megan is taking classes and should actually have been working on a paper. Bridget and Alan have to clear up a fallen tree in their backyard. I brought some electrical wiring I wanted to work on. Meetings were cancelled. Vacations rescheduled.
I was absorbing all of these events and thought about the fact that my mother is scheduled for her second knee replacement this summer. Grandparents get knees replaced not my... Oh, wait. My mother is a grandmother. She has been the mother of the bride 3 times over.
The generations have gone up one. We are no longer the kids. My father had all five of us by the time he was my age. I was already 9 when his 32nd birthday rolled around. My mother is now the matriarch of a family that includes 11 1/3 people and spans 3 generations. All 3 of my sisters are homeowners. We are spread out over 4 states.
It has been an interesting couple of years. There has been sadness and joy. Pain and pleasure. Beginnings and endings for those people that believe there can be either. Quite a bit of travel and many evenings spent at home. Through it all, there have been stories. Through it all there has been love. I turned 30 at a bar hanging out with my aunt 14 days after my sister had gotten married. I turned 31 behind the wheel of a car, ten days before my niece took breath. In 13 days, I'll turn 32...
My guess is that it will be another interesting year.
The events of the last few months have seemed amplified. Somewhere along the way, my siblings and I have become adults. This fact should have been clear several times, but the idea was somehow abstracted. This week, it became less abstract. My father went into the hospital last week complaining of chest pains. He didn't think much of it at the time. Nor did his doctor's initially. They began examining him and found some arterial blockage. By the time Friday rolled around, the decision had been made to have bypass surgery. The surgery was scheduled for Monday. My sister Megan and I flew down to Nashville on Saturday.
My father is currently out of ICU and recovering from a quadruple bypass. There was no damage. There will be some lifestyle changes, but he should be back up and around in a couple of weeks. He's only 55 and our friends in the medical field have become quite adept over the last few decades.
It wasn't until I was returning to Philadelphia on Tuesday that something seemed to sink in: the number of things going on simultaneously. My sister Betsy is pregnant with her second. She was in Washington state looking at houses for her upcoming move. Her daughter is approaching her first birthday. Her second wedding anniversary was the day after his surgery. We stayed with Bridget and attempted to entertain the lovely Audrey while her father worked on the house in preparation for sale. Megan is taking classes and should actually have been working on a paper. Bridget and Alan have to clear up a fallen tree in their backyard. I brought some electrical wiring I wanted to work on. Meetings were cancelled. Vacations rescheduled.
I was absorbing all of these events and thought about the fact that my mother is scheduled for her second knee replacement this summer. Grandparents get knees replaced not my... Oh, wait. My mother is a grandmother. She has been the mother of the bride 3 times over.
The generations have gone up one. We are no longer the kids. My father had all five of us by the time he was my age. I was already 9 when his 32nd birthday rolled around. My mother is now the matriarch of a family that includes 11 1/3 people and spans 3 generations. All 3 of my sisters are homeowners. We are spread out over 4 states.
It has been an interesting couple of years. There has been sadness and joy. Pain and pleasure. Beginnings and endings for those people that believe there can be either. Quite a bit of travel and many evenings spent at home. Through it all, there have been stories. Through it all there has been love. I turned 30 at a bar hanging out with my aunt 14 days after my sister had gotten married. I turned 31 behind the wheel of a car, ten days before my niece took breath. In 13 days, I'll turn 32...
My guess is that it will be another interesting year.
Father's Day (Originally published on June 15, 2008)
We celebrate fathers on this day in June. It has always struck me as
a day we dedicate to the masculine. A day when we remember what is
good and right in the Y chromosome. The image of my sex has oft been
hijacked by the demons of our nature. It is today when we remember the
better angels.
I am one of the blessed. Fatherhood is symbolized by a great man in my life. He will be the first to tell you that he has been supported and helped by a great woman. But he has taught me everything I know about being that rare creature, man. He tells a tale of a dream. A god and a goddess standing before him. He seeing what he had of the harshness of our sex looks on one with love and the other with venom. They stand before him smiling. Knowing that the connections are indivisible. She leans against him. She does not need his support but she is comforted by his strength. It allows her to reach new heights.
At our best, we are the sword and the shield. Providing a place for the magick to happen. Instructing our sons to do the same. Unleashing the force that is within us to propel ourselves higher. Offering a hand to our brothers and sisters to aid them in the climb. Clearing a path through the unknown. Standing on the side of creation and against the destructive. The real battles are very rarely physical, but they are real and they must be fought.
And so I say to all the fathers out there. Those that have taught your sons and daughters the value of their fellow humans. Those that taught them to look at the lifeforms we share this planet with and respect them. Those that made it clear that no man has the right to raise his hand to a woman. The men who woke before dawn and toiled after sundown. The men who fought with everything they had for those they loved. The men who wore the title "father" as a badge of honor and held it as a sacred vow. I honor you this day. May your burden by light. May your children know the love you feel for them.
And to the man I have the honor of calling father, I love you. You have taught me more than you know.
I am one of the blessed. Fatherhood is symbolized by a great man in my life. He will be the first to tell you that he has been supported and helped by a great woman. But he has taught me everything I know about being that rare creature, man. He tells a tale of a dream. A god and a goddess standing before him. He seeing what he had of the harshness of our sex looks on one with love and the other with venom. They stand before him smiling. Knowing that the connections are indivisible. She leans against him. She does not need his support but she is comforted by his strength. It allows her to reach new heights.
At our best, we are the sword and the shield. Providing a place for the magick to happen. Instructing our sons to do the same. Unleashing the force that is within us to propel ourselves higher. Offering a hand to our brothers and sisters to aid them in the climb. Clearing a path through the unknown. Standing on the side of creation and against the destructive. The real battles are very rarely physical, but they are real and they must be fought.
And so I say to all the fathers out there. Those that have taught your sons and daughters the value of their fellow humans. Those that taught them to look at the lifeforms we share this planet with and respect them. Those that made it clear that no man has the right to raise his hand to a woman. The men who woke before dawn and toiled after sundown. The men who fought with everything they had for those they loved. The men who wore the title "father" as a badge of honor and held it as a sacred vow. I honor you this day. May your burden by light. May your children know the love you feel for them.
And to the man I have the honor of calling father, I love you. You have taught me more than you know.
A walk down the road... (Originally published on June 15, 2008)
I've turned 32 by the turning of calendar pages. The light in my
life gathered some of my loved ones and we went to Bar Ferdinand. My
phone seemed to ring continuously that day. The actual date was amidst a
whirlwind of life. Amazing things are happening all around me. As
some of the news is not mine to share, I will just say that many
congratulations are in order. I received gifts and positive energy and
some other things unexpected.
My father is recovering quite well and has been given a clear bill of health. I will try to reach him via phone shortly to wish him well.
Several of my siblings are gathering in Seattle for an event that I will let others describe in their own way. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is hosting an event called "Out of the Darkness" (www.theovernight.org/). I can only say that the event has given me a renewed sense of hope. I feel as if a light, once extinguished, is burning again. I regret that I can only donate money. I do ask that anyone reading this visit the site and should you be in the position to, support one of the walkers. Donations to Elizabeth Marles (www.theovernight.org/index.cfm would be doubly useful.
On Wednesday, I return to a place where the magick is palpable to me. A place where part of myself was reborn and part withered. I can only say that this year I will be joined by another. A new member to the family of love that I have known for two years. I am looking forward to sharing the place with her. I am looking forward to the reminder of what is important that seems to be ever present there.
Amidst all of the comings and goings, the changes, the birthdays, I set forth on another journey. My eyes turned towards what our society considers a dividing line. I took it upon myself to become "landed". The rules have changed much since the time when citizenship was limited to those in possession of land. However, some of the antiquated notions still remain.
Property ownership has never been a personal goal. Ownership, by and large, is an illusion. However, come August (assuming everything goes as expected), I will make housing payments to a bank rather than a landlord. I have just signed a sales agreement for a condo at 21st and Christian. I will have a basement, a back patio, two bedrooms (one of which is quite small), a usable kitchen, condo fees, taxes, and insurance. My brain seems to be going in a million different directions. I'm already placing furniture and planning the garden. A place to grow food. A place to paint. A place to dry out a tent after a camping trip.
I will no longer have access to a pool and gym equipment will have to be purchased. My 150 yard commute will be extended to a mile or so. But, I feel as if I'm putting down roots. I wasn't planning it. I don't equate it with some milestone or some glorified concept of worth. I consider it a statement that I'm here and that I don't plan on leaving at a moment's notice. I am staking a claim on this city. I am binding myself to it. I think everyone but me considered it my home. I cannot equate the term "home" with any physical address or location. Home is a feeling or warmth that is found in people and memories. I will simply say that I have found a place to keep my stuff and that I plan on keeping my stuff there for a while.
There are so many things going through my head. So many thoughts that meld together. So many things I could say but would have to rewrite and rephrase countless times. For now, I will return to my apartment and plan for the coming week. Tomorrow, will be a day of business; a day of meetings and contracts; a day when the world gets caught up in itself and buys its own press. I will go into secure in the knowledge that by mid-week I will be on my way to reality; a place where people feel free to be themselves; where a handshake or a hug supersedes all the paperwork in the world.
I bid you all a good night and a good morning to follow.
My father is recovering quite well and has been given a clear bill of health. I will try to reach him via phone shortly to wish him well.
Several of my siblings are gathering in Seattle for an event that I will let others describe in their own way. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is hosting an event called "Out of the Darkness" (www.theovernight.org/). I can only say that the event has given me a renewed sense of hope. I feel as if a light, once extinguished, is burning again. I regret that I can only donate money. I do ask that anyone reading this visit the site and should you be in the position to, support one of the walkers. Donations to Elizabeth Marles (www.theovernight.org/index.cfm would be doubly useful.
On Wednesday, I return to a place where the magick is palpable to me. A place where part of myself was reborn and part withered. I can only say that this year I will be joined by another. A new member to the family of love that I have known for two years. I am looking forward to sharing the place with her. I am looking forward to the reminder of what is important that seems to be ever present there.
Amidst all of the comings and goings, the changes, the birthdays, I set forth on another journey. My eyes turned towards what our society considers a dividing line. I took it upon myself to become "landed". The rules have changed much since the time when citizenship was limited to those in possession of land. However, some of the antiquated notions still remain.
Property ownership has never been a personal goal. Ownership, by and large, is an illusion. However, come August (assuming everything goes as expected), I will make housing payments to a bank rather than a landlord. I have just signed a sales agreement for a condo at 21st and Christian. I will have a basement, a back patio, two bedrooms (one of which is quite small), a usable kitchen, condo fees, taxes, and insurance. My brain seems to be going in a million different directions. I'm already placing furniture and planning the garden. A place to grow food. A place to paint. A place to dry out a tent after a camping trip.
I will no longer have access to a pool and gym equipment will have to be purchased. My 150 yard commute will be extended to a mile or so. But, I feel as if I'm putting down roots. I wasn't planning it. I don't equate it with some milestone or some glorified concept of worth. I consider it a statement that I'm here and that I don't plan on leaving at a moment's notice. I am staking a claim on this city. I am binding myself to it. I think everyone but me considered it my home. I cannot equate the term "home" with any physical address or location. Home is a feeling or warmth that is found in people and memories. I will simply say that I have found a place to keep my stuff and that I plan on keeping my stuff there for a while.
There are so many things going through my head. So many thoughts that meld together. So many things I could say but would have to rewrite and rephrase countless times. For now, I will return to my apartment and plan for the coming week. Tomorrow, will be a day of business; a day of meetings and contracts; a day when the world gets caught up in itself and buys its own press. I will go into secure in the knowledge that by mid-week I will be on my way to reality; a place where people feel free to be themselves; where a handshake or a hug supersedes all the paperwork in the world.
I bid you all a good night and a good morning to follow.
Back from the playa.... (Originally published on September 3, 2008)
I'm torn. August has been an amazing month. There is so much going on. I don't know what to write about first.
The condo fell through. I guess that would be upsetting if it hadn't turned out so well. I moved in with Liz in Ambler. The last Musick has left Philadelphia. The city did make one last attempt to kill one of us, but it looks like it will have to wait.
August redefined synchronicity for me. Atheists can find it difficult to talk about fate. But whether through random chance or human intervention, sometimes everything just falls into place. And so it was that a series of fortunate events led me to a place where synchronicity is almost common enough to be cliche: Black Rock City.
I camped with an amazing group of people. A group I barely knew that took me in and showed me the ropes. They have gone to the playa year after year and set up an outpost of civilization in a place where no life was meant to be. From the food, to the sound system, to the showers, to the bar, to the structures and organization, they allowed me to leave my concerns far behind. They are really an amazing group of people and I hope they know that. I just wanted to thank The Philadelphia Experiment and wish them all joy. I love you guys.
I could give a thousand examples of how the right set of circumstances led to magick. From the Root Society music leading me out of a dust storm to choosing the right time to go on walk-about to pass by Atomikamp when they were opening up the fallout shelter, to the amazing young woman that let me borrow a hand cart, to the amazing gentleman who needed to use it after me. I said many times during the week I was out there that "The playa provides.". Time and time again, it proved me right.
However, even in this place where the laws of physics and statistics seemed somehow skewed, I can not say I felt as one with the playa. That is until the man fell. There was something primal in that release of energy. There are traditions now and plans and performance pieces, but at the root of it, the destruction has a power all its own. I walked around the debris several times and then just kept walking. I walked wherever the mood struck me and eventually returned to my beloved PEXies. I revelled with them and found warmth as the night grew cold. We danced into the morning and gathered as the sun rose over the mountains that give the area its name. It was then, looking around at the smiles and joy that I realized that this place was a place of healing, of contact, of love. I praised the sun and the land and the joy that morning.
I was on breakfast crew a few hours later and stayed on the playa for another 30 or so hours, but right then I saw in the eyes of other a reflected light I sometimes forget is there. I hope that I was able to do the same for them.
The condo fell through. I guess that would be upsetting if it hadn't turned out so well. I moved in with Liz in Ambler. The last Musick has left Philadelphia. The city did make one last attempt to kill one of us, but it looks like it will have to wait.
August redefined synchronicity for me. Atheists can find it difficult to talk about fate. But whether through random chance or human intervention, sometimes everything just falls into place. And so it was that a series of fortunate events led me to a place where synchronicity is almost common enough to be cliche: Black Rock City.
I camped with an amazing group of people. A group I barely knew that took me in and showed me the ropes. They have gone to the playa year after year and set up an outpost of civilization in a place where no life was meant to be. From the food, to the sound system, to the showers, to the bar, to the structures and organization, they allowed me to leave my concerns far behind. They are really an amazing group of people and I hope they know that. I just wanted to thank The Philadelphia Experiment and wish them all joy. I love you guys.
I could give a thousand examples of how the right set of circumstances led to magick. From the Root Society music leading me out of a dust storm to choosing the right time to go on walk-about to pass by Atomikamp when they were opening up the fallout shelter, to the amazing young woman that let me borrow a hand cart, to the amazing gentleman who needed to use it after me. I said many times during the week I was out there that "The playa provides.". Time and time again, it proved me right.
However, even in this place where the laws of physics and statistics seemed somehow skewed, I can not say I felt as one with the playa. That is until the man fell. There was something primal in that release of energy. There are traditions now and plans and performance pieces, but at the root of it, the destruction has a power all its own. I walked around the debris several times and then just kept walking. I walked wherever the mood struck me and eventually returned to my beloved PEXies. I revelled with them and found warmth as the night grew cold. We danced into the morning and gathered as the sun rose over the mountains that give the area its name. It was then, looking around at the smiles and joy that I realized that this place was a place of healing, of contact, of love. I praised the sun and the land and the joy that morning.
I was on breakfast crew a few hours later and stayed on the playa for another 30 or so hours, but right then I saw in the eyes of other a reflected light I sometimes forget is there. I hope that I was able to do the same for them.
Warning! The following may contain political opinions (sort of) (Originally published on September 19, 2008)
I will not go into parties, or platforms, or personalities. I wave a
liberal flag but will not proselytize. I am always ready to debate a
topic, but won't start the discussion. It can be a fine line sometimes,
but you'll see me sitting across from someone who is losing his or her
temper as I just smirk and respond to their points and counter-points.
There is one stand I will take openly though. As time goes on, I get more adamant about it. Simply put: vote. I don't want to hear about rigging of elections, or the Electoral College, or any other defeatist rhetoric. It is simply that defeatist.
First of all, the Electoral College was set up by our Constitution. It is not going anywhere anytime soon. Waiting until the system is revised to vote is a sure fire to make certain it never is. If you want it changed, make it an issue with Congress. There have been over 700 bills presented in Congress to change it. They have never had the votes.
Second of all, the Electoral College does not just appoint whoever they choose. Political parties win or lose states and you can guess that one party isn't going to just let the other carry the state. There is no federal law requiring electors to vote a certain way. But, 24 states have laws dictating that they must vote with their party and for everyone else it is political suicide. I am not saying it has never happened. However, in our 200+ year history over 99% of electors have voted as dictated by popular vote. There have been 156 "faithless electors" who have voted for a candidate other than their party's nomination. There names are listed here: www.fairvote.org/e_college...hless.htm. That's right. There names will be listed throughout history as party of a special breed of people that ignored the opinions of the citizens of their state.
Too many people fought too hard to secure votes for all citizens of the United States over the age of 18. I will not disgrace their legacy through apathy. I will not accept any argument that does. If you wish to let other people run your life, that's fine. That is your choice. You have every right to make it. But not that is the choice you are making. You are not standing up for anything. You are lying down. You are saying that you wish for people like myself to have a major influence over your life.
There is also the vague idea thrown around that it doesn't matter. That all politicians are the same. If you really believe that a decision made today can't influence the next, then you have given up. If you really think that the elections or John F. Kennedy, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Richard Nixon, and George W. Bush did not have an effect on history and your life specifically, than you are delusional. I apologize if that seems strong, but that is the correct term for one who believes something that can not possibly be true.
Would Hubert Humphrey had had an enemies list? Would he have had a group of people break into the Watergate Hotel to spy on the Democrats?
Would Richard Nixon have misspoke in Berlin and yet brought hope to millions, would he have been assassinated, would he have given us a dream, could he have inspired a generation?
Would Herbert Hoover have enacted Social Security, would he have found a way to provide aid to the British until a fateful day in December changed the world, would he have commissioned the building of our infrastructure, would he have helped set the groundwork for what would become the United Nations?
Finally, do you honestly believe that Al Gore would have brought about the invasion of Iraq?
So, before you say "all politicians are the same" know what that statement encompasses.
Before you say "your vote doesn't count" know what you are giving up.
You can change the world. Believe in yourself. Don't give up your voice. Stand up. Vote.
There is one stand I will take openly though. As time goes on, I get more adamant about it. Simply put: vote. I don't want to hear about rigging of elections, or the Electoral College, or any other defeatist rhetoric. It is simply that defeatist.
First of all, the Electoral College was set up by our Constitution. It is not going anywhere anytime soon. Waiting until the system is revised to vote is a sure fire to make certain it never is. If you want it changed, make it an issue with Congress. There have been over 700 bills presented in Congress to change it. They have never had the votes.
Second of all, the Electoral College does not just appoint whoever they choose. Political parties win or lose states and you can guess that one party isn't going to just let the other carry the state. There is no federal law requiring electors to vote a certain way. But, 24 states have laws dictating that they must vote with their party and for everyone else it is political suicide. I am not saying it has never happened. However, in our 200+ year history over 99% of electors have voted as dictated by popular vote. There have been 156 "faithless electors" who have voted for a candidate other than their party's nomination. There names are listed here: www.fairvote.org/e_college...hless.htm. That's right. There names will be listed throughout history as party of a special breed of people that ignored the opinions of the citizens of their state.
Too many people fought too hard to secure votes for all citizens of the United States over the age of 18. I will not disgrace their legacy through apathy. I will not accept any argument that does. If you wish to let other people run your life, that's fine. That is your choice. You have every right to make it. But not that is the choice you are making. You are not standing up for anything. You are lying down. You are saying that you wish for people like myself to have a major influence over your life.
There is also the vague idea thrown around that it doesn't matter. That all politicians are the same. If you really believe that a decision made today can't influence the next, then you have given up. If you really think that the elections or John F. Kennedy, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Richard Nixon, and George W. Bush did not have an effect on history and your life specifically, than you are delusional. I apologize if that seems strong, but that is the correct term for one who believes something that can not possibly be true.
Would Hubert Humphrey had had an enemies list? Would he have had a group of people break into the Watergate Hotel to spy on the Democrats?
Would Richard Nixon have misspoke in Berlin and yet brought hope to millions, would he have been assassinated, would he have given us a dream, could he have inspired a generation?
Would Herbert Hoover have enacted Social Security, would he have found a way to provide aid to the British until a fateful day in December changed the world, would he have commissioned the building of our infrastructure, would he have helped set the groundwork for what would become the United Nations?
Finally, do you honestly believe that Al Gore would have brought about the invasion of Iraq?
So, before you say "all politicians are the same" know what that statement encompasses.
Before you say "your vote doesn't count" know what you are giving up.
You can change the world. Believe in yourself. Don't give up your voice. Stand up. Vote.
And so it ends... (Originally published on November 6, 2008)
Tuesday saw a lot of transition for me. There are no endings or beginnings, only change. Some people fear change. I usually embrace it. On Tuesday, I embraced it whole heartedly. I would point to the actual events I,m speaking of rather than abstracts, but the truth is usually in the idea. I personally passed a milestone and our country did. The hope I never let go of has voice. The power that we have remains untapped. We always could change the world. We can make this planet whatever we want. Now, it's time to choose. The barriers have been lifted. The only thing stopping us now is ourselves.
Today is Thursday. The celebrating is over. It is time to get to work.
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