Happy Halloween!
This week I'm thinking about possession. Not the kind that refers to people's property. But, rather; demonic possession.
Last week I attended a talk between several authors on possession, authors who had all written about the subject of inner demons. The talk was ok, but I became more interested in the topic of demonic possession that is common in myths from way back when.
Demonic possession is something that goes back to the first days of the Bible, both Old Testament and new (the demon tormenting Saul, Jesus and the possessed pigs.) and even before then, I suppose we would look Hindu texts.
Demonic possession became somewhat of a subject in the New Testament and Hellenic times, and since then, demonic possession has taken on its own kind of culture and mythology, separate from any one particular religion, though its modern origins in English-speaking culture are definitely from Catholicism, and exacerbated by Baptist thinking and the like. In other words, it began with the New Testament, and it took on a folk mythology within Christianity that developed its own legs. It's very creepy to look into old cases of demonic possession.
Another thing I have to say, before I get into a personal reflection, is that when I think about 'demons' in my own life; I'm going to speak about it in a religious way, but philosophically, I'm interested in the consequences (actions, ethics) as well as the religious experience (feelings, experiences).
I don't particularly want to recount the very stupid things I have done, but during those moments, I definitely felt like I was tempted, sorely tempted in the way that is described in the Christian tradition. And I was wondering today, in a very reflective manner, if perhaps I had been possessed by something during these very moments that I am most embarrassed by.
However, there have been times when I have felt 'possessed by goodness'. It's funny that in both cases, it's not just feelings that accompany the acts that follow it, but specific kinds of imagery in the mind, and certain kinds of desires, something unusual to my normal self.
And so, I wonder if someone can be possessed by God in the same way that demons are said to possess human beings. And I don't mean in the sort of speaking tongues tradition; I mean in the sense of grace. Do the saints that exist and have existed; were they possessed as well in a way?
Philosophically, I have a problem with the idea of doing good without freely choosing it, but religiously, I'm interested in the idea that God would take such a personal interest in us, as to 'possess us' with goodness. Does a saint 'possess' goodness because they are possessed by it? Is goodness a trait...or is it a result of actions? Is goodness a trait like blue or brown eyes, or is it more a result of the action and intentions of an individual? Is it metaphysics or is it ethics? Can it be both if we are possessed by good or evil forces? Could it anything but metaphysics?
I have to think about it.
Sunday, November 03, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Coding
I am terrible at coding. Honestly.
I can't even get a brick breaker game to work. It's going to be a long road (a couple months at least) to coding my game.
I'm going to bed. LOL.
I can't even get a brick breaker game to work. It's going to be a long road (a couple months at least) to coding my game.
I'm going to bed. LOL.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
TOW: Love
Zeus said: 'Methinks I have a plan which will enfeeble their strength and
so extinguish their turbulence; men shall continue to exist, but I will
cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and
increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more
profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they
continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and
they shall hop about on a single leg.' -Plato's Symposium, Speech of Aristophenes
I have had a lot of time to think about love this week.
It's sort of something that's come to me based on some talks that I have had with friends, relatives, with myself, when praying, when walking about.
I don't know if I'll always be single. I might some day get married, or perhaps just have a serial dating complex.
But I like myself, as I am. As one person. It does make me happy.
But I also often feel like half a person. And when I feel this way, I often reference back to Plato's Symposium. Great, intelligent thinkers make speeches about love, in a contest to see who can have the best speech in their somewhat serious drinking game.
Unsurprisingly, I am drawn to the myth of love. The one that suggests that everyone has a perfect match, or something like it. It's physical, it's real, your body fits with another body that exists. It's a match of the physical and the ideal.
But the problem with mythology is that there's a fine line between a moral tale, and believing that someone else can complete who you are.
And yet....love for me is about completeness, not because 'romantic' love completes me, but because the kind of love that makes you a family between you and someone else is what completes me. I live and long for that kind of love. Familial love to me is the most important kind of love. A home is a beautiful thing that is only ever created by love of those around you.
I would rather have the love of family then any other one thing. I suppose I experienced a bit of a recall to the fact that I have been very luck to be surrounded by loving people. Not perfect people, sometimes not always even very good people, but loving, committed people. Loyalty and the ability to care about others really is rare and special quality. We all need love. We can't be strong without it. Our lives are worse without it, in all its manifestations. It gives us hope, and faith in the future. It gives us both a grounding and a freedom from our existence. To love is live, because what is to live without loving?
I have had a lot of time to think about love this week.
It's sort of something that's come to me based on some talks that I have had with friends, relatives, with myself, when praying, when walking about.
I don't know if I'll always be single. I might some day get married, or perhaps just have a serial dating complex.
But I like myself, as I am. As one person. It does make me happy.
But I also often feel like half a person. And when I feel this way, I often reference back to Plato's Symposium. Great, intelligent thinkers make speeches about love, in a contest to see who can have the best speech in their somewhat serious drinking game.
Unsurprisingly, I am drawn to the myth of love. The one that suggests that everyone has a perfect match, or something like it. It's physical, it's real, your body fits with another body that exists. It's a match of the physical and the ideal.
But the problem with mythology is that there's a fine line between a moral tale, and believing that someone else can complete who you are.
And yet....love for me is about completeness, not because 'romantic' love completes me, but because the kind of love that makes you a family between you and someone else is what completes me. I live and long for that kind of love. Familial love to me is the most important kind of love. A home is a beautiful thing that is only ever created by love of those around you.
I would rather have the love of family then any other one thing. I suppose I experienced a bit of a recall to the fact that I have been very luck to be surrounded by loving people. Not perfect people, sometimes not always even very good people, but loving, committed people. Loyalty and the ability to care about others really is rare and special quality. We all need love. We can't be strong without it. Our lives are worse without it, in all its manifestations. It gives us hope, and faith in the future. It gives us both a grounding and a freedom from our existence. To love is live, because what is to live without loving?
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Motivational posters
Hi hi!
I'm in an inspired sort of mood for design, so I tried my hand at an inspirational poster.
I'm in an inspired sort of mood for design, so I tried my hand at an inspirational poster.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
So I'm 30
Yeah, it happened.
I've finally hit the next big milestone after, 19, 21, 25, 29......30.
I don't feel 30.
I certainly don't act 30....whatever that means......
I feel pretty young still inside, I think that's a good thing. Though I suppose I don't look that young on the outside anymore. (Though lots of people have been telling me I look 25-27, so thank you, thank you.)
I got two cards from Elizabeth and her mom, Judy, both which were kind of....I don't know, hit on that nerve I have been dealing with for the past two weeks. Elizabeth said something interesting, that I should look at those cards (that depressed me with their 'now you're old and milestone, etc.' and 'think of all the things worse than being 30' which made me feel even more depressed, since I think about how much I would like the world to be a better place all the time.) as providing me with perspective.
What does that mean, exactly....perspective?
I have been reading a lot lately about perspective and it has been helping me deal with things that aren't going perfectly in my life at the moment, whether at work, socially, or with my family. And it has required a lot of this word, a lot of perspective. Nothing is final, no matter how bad things seem, it's not always the end of everything. But sometimes when you're in the middle of something, it does feel like the end. Almost everything seems to bring your world crashing down. And the fewer supports you have, the less 'perspective' that tends to be available. Everything is a crisis.
I would like to believe that with age....I will gain some perspective. The good kind.
I've finally hit the next big milestone after, 19, 21, 25, 29......30.
I don't feel 30.
I certainly don't act 30....whatever that means......
I feel pretty young still inside, I think that's a good thing. Though I suppose I don't look that young on the outside anymore. (Though lots of people have been telling me I look 25-27, so thank you, thank you.)
I got two cards from Elizabeth and her mom, Judy, both which were kind of....I don't know, hit on that nerve I have been dealing with for the past two weeks. Elizabeth said something interesting, that I should look at those cards (that depressed me with their 'now you're old and milestone, etc.' and 'think of all the things worse than being 30' which made me feel even more depressed, since I think about how much I would like the world to be a better place all the time.) as providing me with perspective.
What does that mean, exactly....perspective?
I have been reading a lot lately about perspective and it has been helping me deal with things that aren't going perfectly in my life at the moment, whether at work, socially, or with my family. And it has required a lot of this word, a lot of perspective. Nothing is final, no matter how bad things seem, it's not always the end of everything. But sometimes when you're in the middle of something, it does feel like the end. Almost everything seems to bring your world crashing down. And the fewer supports you have, the less 'perspective' that tends to be available. Everything is a crisis.
I would like to believe that with age....I will gain some perspective. The good kind.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
TOW: Wanting What Other People Have
"Envy is pain at the good fortune of others." -Aristotle
I have been going through a fairly interesting thought process as my career and life in the big city evolves and changes. With my big 3-0 birthday coming up, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about what I want, and what I don't want. Somewhere along the line, I feel like I have been slightly caught up in wanting what other people have. And perhaps this needs some clarification.
Sometimes I think we all feel envy, we all look at other people and say, "I want that thing that that person has," but more often than not the trap that really gets most people, and perhaps myself as well, is the idea that we want a phase of life that other people have. It's rare for us to say that we want a blender that someone else has, a car, or even house. We would rarely act badly for things but many of us would commit rash actions for ideas, for the symbol of what a blender represents to us, what a fast car, an expensive house represents to us. Security, wealth, status, respect, sex appeal. These are the things that cause envy. These are the things people will do irrational things for.
In my mind, I feel like I have been leaning in a direction. I have been thinking very hard about the things that other people have. It has taken a while, but I am starting to live, I suppose, a normal middle class life. I have an apartment, I have friends, I am growing in status professionally and I am acquiring skills that will raise my overall salary, etc. Today I think I thought about getting a dog....not because I like dogs, but because I like the idea of walking a dog, out and about. Why would I want something like that? Who knows, probably because I didn't have it, but someone else did. (*I can't say that I love dogs...too many bad dogs in my lifetime.)
To me this says a lot of the nature of envy. It's not about us wanting something, it's about us not wanting someone else to be happier than we are.
When I think about this, it's sad that I know a part of me feels this ways, even as I do my best to love what I have, and who I am. There are times that I cannot help but feel envy. Once and a while, I think it overtakes even the most saintly of us. But again, it's what we do in those moments, not that we feel it.
I suppose what I have always felt is that I have never wanted what 'other people have' in a societal way. I don't want status in the way other people have it, I don't want a white-picket fence life with 2.1 kids and a mortgage and one divorce one successful marriage and whatever else Stats Canada tells me is the norm these days. I don't want to be or meet a standard. That's not going to be enough for me, though I can see how it is enough for other people.
What I really want is something that is uniquely mine. Something that is my experience, that I am proud of, that I can call my happiness, my goodness and my strength.
When we were younger, strength and goodness were given to us. As adults, we must create it from within, to share with a world that is not always polite, kind or fair.
That injustice can sometimes create the conditions for envy.
What I really want is a world free of evil emotions, of an inner peace that I think most people search for. And sometimes they can't help but see it in the eyes of other people, even if it's just an image.
It's that idea that beguiles us, every day.
I have been going through a fairly interesting thought process as my career and life in the big city evolves and changes. With my big 3-0 birthday coming up, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about what I want, and what I don't want. Somewhere along the line, I feel like I have been slightly caught up in wanting what other people have. And perhaps this needs some clarification.
Sometimes I think we all feel envy, we all look at other people and say, "I want that thing that that person has," but more often than not the trap that really gets most people, and perhaps myself as well, is the idea that we want a phase of life that other people have. It's rare for us to say that we want a blender that someone else has, a car, or even house. We would rarely act badly for things but many of us would commit rash actions for ideas, for the symbol of what a blender represents to us, what a fast car, an expensive house represents to us. Security, wealth, status, respect, sex appeal. These are the things that cause envy. These are the things people will do irrational things for.
In my mind, I feel like I have been leaning in a direction. I have been thinking very hard about the things that other people have. It has taken a while, but I am starting to live, I suppose, a normal middle class life. I have an apartment, I have friends, I am growing in status professionally and I am acquiring skills that will raise my overall salary, etc. Today I think I thought about getting a dog....not because I like dogs, but because I like the idea of walking a dog, out and about. Why would I want something like that? Who knows, probably because I didn't have it, but someone else did. (*I can't say that I love dogs...too many bad dogs in my lifetime.)
To me this says a lot of the nature of envy. It's not about us wanting something, it's about us not wanting someone else to be happier than we are.
When I think about this, it's sad that I know a part of me feels this ways, even as I do my best to love what I have, and who I am. There are times that I cannot help but feel envy. Once and a while, I think it overtakes even the most saintly of us. But again, it's what we do in those moments, not that we feel it.
I suppose what I have always felt is that I have never wanted what 'other people have' in a societal way. I don't want status in the way other people have it, I don't want a white-picket fence life with 2.1 kids and a mortgage and one divorce one successful marriage and whatever else Stats Canada tells me is the norm these days. I don't want to be or meet a standard. That's not going to be enough for me, though I can see how it is enough for other people.
What I really want is something that is uniquely mine. Something that is my experience, that I am proud of, that I can call my happiness, my goodness and my strength.
When we were younger, strength and goodness were given to us. As adults, we must create it from within, to share with a world that is not always polite, kind or fair.
That injustice can sometimes create the conditions for envy.
What I really want is a world free of evil emotions, of an inner peace that I think most people search for. And sometimes they can't help but see it in the eyes of other people, even if it's just an image.
It's that idea that beguiles us, every day.
Monday, August 05, 2013
TOW: 30
In 1 month, 4 days, 5 hours and 29 minutes I'm going to be 30.
I caught myself eating ice cream out of the pail today.
....
Someone needs to go on a diet with me before I turn 30.
I caught myself eating ice cream out of the pail today.
....
Someone needs to go on a diet with me before I turn 30.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
TOW: Take this personality test
Lately, when I've been in a mood, either good or bad, I've taken to taking personality tests.
As anyone can tell you, personality tests are both interesting and, at times, misleading. Sometimes they can tell us things about ourselves that are illuminating. Other times, it can lead us to believe we fit well within the confines of a psychological summary. But should we take other people's perceptions of us to be the truth? Just who are you, anyways?
The first personality test was created in the 1920s for military personnel. Before that, people measured personality by phrenology, or measuring people's skulls. (I am sure I would come up as a narcissist based on the size of my skull.) They also looked at people's appearances to determine personality....it makes you wonder if this is where the phrase "Appearances aren't everything" came from.
Most of us have taken the Myers-Briggs personality test, but did you know that there are many, many other kinds that are used?
I think many of us get a thrill out of the idea that someone can tell us who we are. That our dispositions and feelings are classifiable, and even understandable (even if those feelings aren't rational). We all would like someone to make it easy for us, and just tell us who we are supposed to be....or even who we are right now.
But personality tests are not a good measure of what we're all capable of. They're a measure of our psychological state when we take a test. We all have free will; many, many times we work against our own 'natures' and do things that surprise people around us. There may be a model and mold, but most of us break it on a regular basis.
Sometimes, life feels like one big personality test. Will you be rude to someone in public, will you fight with a spouse or family member? Would you betray a friend to help yourself? These questions are all ethical, but they all say something about our capacities, and if you ever want to find out who someone is, ask them personality questions that aren't about themselves, but about difficult problems that affect them. Ask a gay man what he thinks about sexual diversity. Ask a woman what she thinks about abortion laws. Ask a black man about the role of law officers in our society.
There is something interesting and internal to personality tests, but they can only measure capacity; they don't measure reality. And even if we did try and measure reality-we would probably fail to take in all the necessary factors. We can only measure small slices of it; small pieces of our realities, and then bring it back to ourselves, to our 'personality.'
Personality is an interesting piece of social science, but it's not a rational response to how people should live in the world. It is only the application of the scientific method to a field where persuasiveness matters as much as data. While that has its value, we must never believe that our free will is somehow connected to our personalities. Each of us has the unalienable right to choose, to be, and to make ourselves again.
As anyone can tell you, personality tests are both interesting and, at times, misleading. Sometimes they can tell us things about ourselves that are illuminating. Other times, it can lead us to believe we fit well within the confines of a psychological summary. But should we take other people's perceptions of us to be the truth? Just who are you, anyways?
The first personality test was created in the 1920s for military personnel. Before that, people measured personality by phrenology, or measuring people's skulls. (I am sure I would come up as a narcissist based on the size of my skull.) They also looked at people's appearances to determine personality....it makes you wonder if this is where the phrase "Appearances aren't everything" came from.
Most of us have taken the Myers-Briggs personality test, but did you know that there are many, many other kinds that are used?
- The Big Five Personality Traits test: openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism.
- The Hans Enyck Test: He based his theory on the model developed by Hippocrates, which had a scale used three dimensions: Extroversion, Neuroticism, and Psychoticism.
- The 16 Personality Factors test developed by Raymond Catell. (I won't list them all, but you can find them here.)
- Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) developed in 1939 to measure psychological balance levels. (Not to be confused with the MMPI2)
I think many of us get a thrill out of the idea that someone can tell us who we are. That our dispositions and feelings are classifiable, and even understandable (even if those feelings aren't rational). We all would like someone to make it easy for us, and just tell us who we are supposed to be....or even who we are right now.
But personality tests are not a good measure of what we're all capable of. They're a measure of our psychological state when we take a test. We all have free will; many, many times we work against our own 'natures' and do things that surprise people around us. There may be a model and mold, but most of us break it on a regular basis.
Sometimes, life feels like one big personality test. Will you be rude to someone in public, will you fight with a spouse or family member? Would you betray a friend to help yourself? These questions are all ethical, but they all say something about our capacities, and if you ever want to find out who someone is, ask them personality questions that aren't about themselves, but about difficult problems that affect them. Ask a gay man what he thinks about sexual diversity. Ask a woman what she thinks about abortion laws. Ask a black man about the role of law officers in our society.
There is something interesting and internal to personality tests, but they can only measure capacity; they don't measure reality. And even if we did try and measure reality-we would probably fail to take in all the necessary factors. We can only measure small slices of it; small pieces of our realities, and then bring it back to ourselves, to our 'personality.'
Personality is an interesting piece of social science, but it's not a rational response to how people should live in the world. It is only the application of the scientific method to a field where persuasiveness matters as much as data. While that has its value, we must never believe that our free will is somehow connected to our personalities. Each of us has the unalienable right to choose, to be, and to make ourselves again.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Long week
Well, this week was an odd one, and the coming weeks are going to be weird as well, given that work is crazy, and there's a lot going on this summer.
Lots of good things happening, too, though. It's a time for change, I think.
Lots of good things happening, too, though. It's a time for change, I think.
Monday, July 15, 2013
TOW: Things will get better
I don't have a lot of musings on this topic this week; I just believe in it.
Monday, July 08, 2013
Sunday, June 23, 2013
TOW: Positive Thinking
Today's thought is brought to you by the power of positive thinking!
Or at least it would be, if I believed in such a thing.
I consider myself an optimist, but I wouldn't call myself a 'positive thinker.' Indeed, I think most of my thoughts are gloomy and concerned with worst case scenarios. Perhaps that's why, today, I feel the need to discuss the power, importance, and mythos associated with positive thinking.
Positive thinking is something probably coined by Tony Robbins, who has always been a proponent of positivity and the power that it has on the brain. For positive thinkers, "A positive mind anticipates happiness, joy, health, and favorable results."
Baloney.
Positive thinking is a lot of what I have had to deal with over the last couple weeks, and I have been trying to figure out whether it could be incorporated into my life in an authentic way. After spending some time with it, I can definitely say that it is not for me. Here's why:
1) Positive thinking does not solve life's problems.
Thinking something away, or even trying to put a positive spin on negative actions does not get to the root cause of a problems. Real problems require real solutions....everything else is background noise to what you should be doing....namely facing your fears, confronting and diffusing conflicts, etc.
2) Positive thinking ignores the facts/reality
You can't wish away cancer, baldness, and other things that most people wish to avoid. You can put a positive spin on things you detest and hate, but that doesn't make you love them. You can't trick yourself into being someone else who likes and dislikes different things than you. You are who you are, good and bad. You are not a happiness robot.
3) Positive thinking doesn't have a plan
Looking towards the future doesn't address the problems of the past, nor complete this moment we're in, which leads to the future. Thinking well about things doesn't make us come up with good ideas. In fact, pride, or hubris, as psychology has often proven, is a good way to fail. We cannot become good at what we do and we certainly can't plan a strategy unless we take a problem seriously. Positive thinking is about reducing what you feel, not facing it.
I do believe I'm an optimist...and most days, I think I'm an incredibly lucky and happy person. But that has nothing to do with my circumstances...those are separate from a kind of inner peace that takes time to develop. Circumstances are things which require an incredibly large amount of reality to be looked at, considered, and cared for. And those things require a certain sense of realism, and negativity. This negativity helps us cope, understand, and move on. Obliquely ignoring what bothers us can work for a time, but can never help us grow.
And I have (and I hope I always will be) interested in the grow of my self and being.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
TOW: Direction
Today I heard an amazing story told by one of my favourite priests in this city. I've quoted it in full below:
”I’m reminded today of Albert Einstein, the great physicist who this month has been honored by Time magazine as the “Man of the Century.” Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn’t find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets.
“It wasn’t there. He looked in his briefcase but couldn’t find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn’t find it.
“The conductor said, ‘Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I’m sure you bought a ticket. Don’t worry about it.’
“Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket.
“The conductor rushed back and said, ‘Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don’t worry, I know who you are; no problem. You don’t need a ticket. I’m sure you bought one.’ Einstein looked at him and said, ‘Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don’t know is where I’m going.”
Having said that Billy Graham continued,
“See the suit I’m wearing? It’s a brand new suit. My children, and my grandchildren are telling me I’ve gotten a little slovenly in my old age. I used to be a bit more fastidious. So I went out and bought a new suit for this luncheon and one more occasion.\
“You know what that occasion is? This is the suit in which I’ll be buried.
“But when you hear I’m dead, I don’t want you to immediately remember the suit I’m wearing.
“I want you to remember this: I not only know who I am. I also know where I’m going.”
__________________________________________________________________________
This homily was very relevant for my current life situation. I have accomplished many of the goals I set out to do in my life in the short, mid, and long term. And now, given this place in my life, I do not know where to turn next. And the consequence of uncertainty for me is a kind of anxiety I am learning to live with. It is an uncomfortable position for a millienial, since we are people who are given too much choice in general.
To me, the most important thing is a direction, a drive. These tasks are just upkeep, and upkeep is not growth. And I am someone who needs to be growing, moving forward. I don't want to stay as I am, I want to be better than I am. I enjoy my life on the whole...but I am in a place where I need to define the meaning that is in my life. I need to think a little harder about the direction of my life.
I am starting to redefine where that drive is coming from, and also what it is that drives me in life. I have reached the point where I believe in myself, but I am still working on finding out how to turn my own beliefs into reality around me. And, that, perhaps, is the next step in my journey as an adult.
”I’m reminded today of Albert Einstein, the great physicist who this month has been honored by Time magazine as the “Man of the Century.” Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn’t find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets.
“It wasn’t there. He looked in his briefcase but couldn’t find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn’t find it.
“The conductor said, ‘Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I’m sure you bought a ticket. Don’t worry about it.’
“Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket.
“The conductor rushed back and said, ‘Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don’t worry, I know who you are; no problem. You don’t need a ticket. I’m sure you bought one.’ Einstein looked at him and said, ‘Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don’t know is where I’m going.”
Having said that Billy Graham continued,
“See the suit I’m wearing? It’s a brand new suit. My children, and my grandchildren are telling me I’ve gotten a little slovenly in my old age. I used to be a bit more fastidious. So I went out and bought a new suit for this luncheon and one more occasion.\
“You know what that occasion is? This is the suit in which I’ll be buried.
“But when you hear I’m dead, I don’t want you to immediately remember the suit I’m wearing.
“I want you to remember this: I not only know who I am. I also know where I’m going.”
__________________________________________________________________________
This homily was very relevant for my current life situation. I have accomplished many of the goals I set out to do in my life in the short, mid, and long term. And now, given this place in my life, I do not know where to turn next. And the consequence of uncertainty for me is a kind of anxiety I am learning to live with. It is an uncomfortable position for a millienial, since we are people who are given too much choice in general.
To me, the most important thing is a direction, a drive. These tasks are just upkeep, and upkeep is not growth. And I am someone who needs to be growing, moving forward. I don't want to stay as I am, I want to be better than I am. I enjoy my life on the whole...but I am in a place where I need to define the meaning that is in my life. I need to think a little harder about the direction of my life.
I am starting to redefine where that drive is coming from, and also what it is that drives me in life. I have reached the point where I believe in myself, but I am still working on finding out how to turn my own beliefs into reality around me. And, that, perhaps, is the next step in my journey as an adult.
I have internet again! Time to write.
I was without internet for nearly a week. If I didn't have it at work, I may have died from withdrawal. Just goes to show how much we rely on instant communication these days. Also helps a lot of the work that I do is based on social media.
Monday, April 08, 2013
TOW: Inspiration
You know, a lot has been said about inspiration. Probably my favourite long form speech about inspiration, especially for writers, has been said by one of my least favourite writers, Elizabeth Gilbert.
While I don't subscribe to Eat, Pray, Love (though that mantra, as a whole, sits well with me) I do believe in the words she says as part of her TED talk. Namely, in a more condensed form, that genius is 1 percent inspiration, and 99 per cent perspiration.
But Gilbert says it more kindly than that. Instead, she talks about a writer's muse. Because, any writer that has written more than ten words, knows that feeling of being possessed by something. An idea, a desire to continue, an almost inhuman want to write, and write well. Danielle Steel, as much as she might not be considered literature's finest...still understand the written process very well. And her process mirrors mine, I find *Excerpts taken from Danielle Steel's blog:
Very early in my career ( I only had one baby when I started writing), I figured out that if you wait for time and the opportunity to present themselves—it never happens, and you don’t get anything done. So I made writing my priority, and I turned down just about everything else. For about 30 years, I never had lunch with friends, never broke into my writing time. The only greater priority in my life was my family, my children and husband. They always came first—but after that, I turned down just about everything else so I could write.
My process is that first I have an idea, and it may only be a tiny kernel of an idea, something that intrigues me. It may just be a thought, a tiny piece of something about a person, a news item, something in history, or a philosophy about life. I start making notes, and do so for several months usually, as the story emerges in my head. Sometimes I sit for hours, just staring into space, pursuing the idea. And then about the characters to go with it. And then one day, I sit down at my typewriter and write the outline for the story. By then, I pretty much know the story. And the outline tells the story chapter by chapter. The outlines are anywhere from 40 to 70 pages long. And then I go over the outline, correcting it and making changes. And when I’m comfortable with it, I send it to my editor and agent, and they suggest some changes. I make those changes if I agree with them, without compromising the essence of the book, and then send the outline to my publisher. And by then, it is a total mess, with things crossed out, corrected, written over, full of asterisks ( my editors hate the mess I make!! and beg me to change my typewriter ribbon more often, which I forget to do, and when I’m excited about what I’m writing). And then my publisher suggests changes too, so I do another re-write on the outline. And whenever I write, I do nothing else. That’s all I do, so as not be distracted from the book.
Once the outline is set, I put it away, and let it simmer for a while. And I am usually working on 3 to 5 different books, in various stages at the same time. I work it all the way through to the end of the story, and then put it away for a while, and it continues to cook somewhere, in the back of my head.
When I start a book, it is like climbing a mountain. Brutal, exhausting, an endurance contest. I start the book and don’t leave my desk until the first draft is finished. I work from the outline, but the book just flows on its own (like a movie I see and hear in my head—and sometimes even I’m surprised at what I’m seeing and hearing!) I cry at the sad parts, laugh at something funny one of the characters said. My life becomes totally populated by the people of the book. I don’t talk to anyone (except my kids when they call me), don’t return calls, don’t see anyone, and don’t leave the house. I go from my bed to my desk, to my bathtub at the end of my workday, then back to bed, and then back to work. I work about 20 to 22 hours straight, sleep for 3 or 4 hours, and then go back to work. And I do that until I have told the story and the first draft is finished. Michelangelo called it ‘stealing it from the stone’, when he carved a statue. I’m almost afraid to stop working at night because I’m afraid I’ll forget where I was going with the story, but I don’t forget. And I keep on going until I’m through. That first draft is very rough, and full of mistakes. I read it many, many times afterwards, making corrections, and then when I’m satisfied with it, I send it to my editor (and agent), and then she sends me back a ton of corrections and changes she wants made. I do most of them and re-write it, and the book goes back and forth that way for many months, while I correct it and polish it. And between rounds of working on that book, I work on others. And each time I come back to a book, I see new things I want to improve, polish, or change. I usually re-write a book off and on for well over a year, even a year and a half. And if I need historical research, or about an industry, or geography, my researcher gives it to me (to read and digest) before, during, and after the book, and I weave it in where I need it. So as you can see, it’s a long, arduous process."
____
I find that I work best when I ignore absolutely everything else. And the best inspiration for me comes from working hard, not from magically creating something out of nothing in five minutes. Hard work inspires me. I have always known that, but it was something I was particularly taken with after going to the gym, getting a haircut, and walking half an hour in the rain with 50 pounds of groceries. (You have good thinking, I find, when carrying heavy things.) Now I am sitting, listening to the rain and thunder, and all I can think is how much harder I want to work, how much better I will feel, once I do some of the things I have been putting off, often while I was living my life and just getting on with it all.
To me, there is nothing more important than inspiration. To feel inspired means to dream. To dream means to have hope. With hope, I feel I can do anything. And more than anything, I want to put my hopes and dreams to good work, to create.
While I don't subscribe to Eat, Pray, Love (though that mantra, as a whole, sits well with me) I do believe in the words she says as part of her TED talk. Namely, in a more condensed form, that genius is 1 percent inspiration, and 99 per cent perspiration.
But Gilbert says it more kindly than that. Instead, she talks about a writer's muse. Because, any writer that has written more than ten words, knows that feeling of being possessed by something. An idea, a desire to continue, an almost inhuman want to write, and write well. Danielle Steel, as much as she might not be considered literature's finest...still understand the written process very well. And her process mirrors mine, I find *Excerpts taken from Danielle Steel's blog:
Very early in my career ( I only had one baby when I started writing), I figured out that if you wait for time and the opportunity to present themselves—it never happens, and you don’t get anything done. So I made writing my priority, and I turned down just about everything else. For about 30 years, I never had lunch with friends, never broke into my writing time. The only greater priority in my life was my family, my children and husband. They always came first—but after that, I turned down just about everything else so I could write.
My process is that first I have an idea, and it may only be a tiny kernel of an idea, something that intrigues me. It may just be a thought, a tiny piece of something about a person, a news item, something in history, or a philosophy about life. I start making notes, and do so for several months usually, as the story emerges in my head. Sometimes I sit for hours, just staring into space, pursuing the idea. And then about the characters to go with it. And then one day, I sit down at my typewriter and write the outline for the story. By then, I pretty much know the story. And the outline tells the story chapter by chapter. The outlines are anywhere from 40 to 70 pages long. And then I go over the outline, correcting it and making changes. And when I’m comfortable with it, I send it to my editor and agent, and they suggest some changes. I make those changes if I agree with them, without compromising the essence of the book, and then send the outline to my publisher. And by then, it is a total mess, with things crossed out, corrected, written over, full of asterisks ( my editors hate the mess I make!! and beg me to change my typewriter ribbon more often, which I forget to do, and when I’m excited about what I’m writing). And then my publisher suggests changes too, so I do another re-write on the outline. And whenever I write, I do nothing else. That’s all I do, so as not be distracted from the book.
Once the outline is set, I put it away, and let it simmer for a while. And I am usually working on 3 to 5 different books, in various stages at the same time. I work it all the way through to the end of the story, and then put it away for a while, and it continues to cook somewhere, in the back of my head.
When I start a book, it is like climbing a mountain. Brutal, exhausting, an endurance contest. I start the book and don’t leave my desk until the first draft is finished. I work from the outline, but the book just flows on its own (like a movie I see and hear in my head—and sometimes even I’m surprised at what I’m seeing and hearing!) I cry at the sad parts, laugh at something funny one of the characters said. My life becomes totally populated by the people of the book. I don’t talk to anyone (except my kids when they call me), don’t return calls, don’t see anyone, and don’t leave the house. I go from my bed to my desk, to my bathtub at the end of my workday, then back to bed, and then back to work. I work about 20 to 22 hours straight, sleep for 3 or 4 hours, and then go back to work. And I do that until I have told the story and the first draft is finished. Michelangelo called it ‘stealing it from the stone’, when he carved a statue. I’m almost afraid to stop working at night because I’m afraid I’ll forget where I was going with the story, but I don’t forget. And I keep on going until I’m through. That first draft is very rough, and full of mistakes. I read it many, many times afterwards, making corrections, and then when I’m satisfied with it, I send it to my editor (and agent), and then she sends me back a ton of corrections and changes she wants made. I do most of them and re-write it, and the book goes back and forth that way for many months, while I correct it and polish it. And between rounds of working on that book, I work on others. And each time I come back to a book, I see new things I want to improve, polish, or change. I usually re-write a book off and on for well over a year, even a year and a half. And if I need historical research, or about an industry, or geography, my researcher gives it to me (to read and digest) before, during, and after the book, and I weave it in where I need it. So as you can see, it’s a long, arduous process."
____
I find that I work best when I ignore absolutely everything else. And the best inspiration for me comes from working hard, not from magically creating something out of nothing in five minutes. Hard work inspires me. I have always known that, but it was something I was particularly taken with after going to the gym, getting a haircut, and walking half an hour in the rain with 50 pounds of groceries. (You have good thinking, I find, when carrying heavy things.) Now I am sitting, listening to the rain and thunder, and all I can think is how much harder I want to work, how much better I will feel, once I do some of the things I have been putting off, often while I was living my life and just getting on with it all.
To me, there is nothing more important than inspiration. To feel inspired means to dream. To dream means to have hope. With hope, I feel I can do anything. And more than anything, I want to put my hopes and dreams to good work, to create.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
TOW: The worst thing that can happen?
The point of this blog post is something that I said to my dad while we discussed travel. My dad was making a not-so-surprising comment about my inability to have social limits, and I was commenting how some of the best experiences I've had were meeting strangers in odd places, and striking up a conversation with them. Travel is exciting when we put aside our worries, and go up to strangers and engage them, see what it's like to talk to someone, in a different land, maybe in a different language. For me, traveling is about ideas, and finding connections between your world and other places. The world is just so exciting when you think of it as a world of hidden friendship. Some of the most memorable moments are small conversations with strangers.
Because you aren't worried about your future with that person, the future that could be if you say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, act the wrong way. You feel worried sometimes in your regular life.
And, who doesn't know how much I love to worry about things? I worry about things that might happen, about things that haven't happened, about things that will happen, about things that will never happen. Sometimes I'm serious in my worrying. Sometimes it's an exercise in trying my friend's and family's patience.
But sometimes, it's something I have to work to get past. Because it stops me from living well. Because fear is not the way to finding happiness in my life. It's the road block on the way to things I want and need and cherish.
But fear is a strange thing. Too much or too little can harm us. Fear is meant to keep us safe from things that we don't yet understand that could be dangerous. But fear is also something to be overcome, so that we can showcase the power and strength of the human spirit.
Most people let fear dictate the limits of their happiness. Because to them, fear of the unknown, of whatever that thing they think is the worst....that scares them more than anything. And they let that fear rule their hearts. And their happiness.
And herein lies the point of this blog post, something that is supposed to be on a t-shirt, according to my dad: the worst thing that could happen is probably something good. When we travel, we we try new things, when we meet new people, it's nothing something bad. Most of the time, the worst thing that could happen is we could be surprised by our own happiness.
We always expect bad things to happen...but the best things happen when we don't expect anything at all, and let new experiences become something amazing.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
I'm sick
I think I overdid it this week.
Doing too much again, now I am just completely exhausted! =(
Sigh. These things happen, but still, it's rough. =/
Doing too much again, now I am just completely exhausted! =(
Sigh. These things happen, but still, it's rough. =/
Monday, March 11, 2013
Family
My family life is a bit stressy this week, so while I do have some thoughts about things....I can't think about them. I'm too busy feeling distracted. =(
So, with that in mind, I love my family, both the family around me I choose, and those who are my family by familial relation. But dang it, sometimes I wish it was easier to fulfill your obligations without those obligations stressing you out all the time. =/
So, with that in mind, I love my family, both the family around me I choose, and those who are my family by familial relation. But dang it, sometimes I wish it was easier to fulfill your obligations without those obligations stressing you out all the time. =/
Monday, March 04, 2013
TOW: A Single Adult
You know, being a single person in a big city is very different than anywhere else. More often than not, your life turns into the local cable network version of Sex and the City. You should have cute friends that are interesting and yet shallow at the same time, and yet at the end of the episode, things never quite work out the way you planned.
You have the option to be any kind of person as an adult, but I think most of us end up falling into one of two or three categories. Somewhat balanced, barfly, or recluse. It seems to me that you either have nothing better to do than make your life one giant party (barfly) or you can't be bothered with anyone your age because they annoy you too much (recluse) or you vacillitate between the two options depending on how you're feeling (which is, I think, somewhat normal).
Being a single adult is an interesting experience. In your 20s, it's somewhat exciting. You never know what's around the corner. As someone almost 30, it's a little different. You start to think about the rest of your life, and what it might look like. You wonder if you will have all your hair, or if parts of your body will sag. And you wonder, if you are the kind looking for a life partner, whether the same person you dreamed would find you attractive in your 20s will find you attractive in your 30s...or 40s.....50s? Will you be successful in your career, or will you live in your parents basement for the rest of your life?
Single adults have to constantly be doing 'something' because everyone else is so caught up with making family units (or being in the process of destroying them). I think that's why I tend to err on the side of a life that's a giant party than one that's reclusive. I did that for a year and a half here, and I was miserable....but once I let go of some of my inhibitions, life was something really special. Because it made everything old new again, and everything new, better. I might not have liked all the results from my choices in life, but I certainly liked the experience, and what I learned from it. Even bad things, very bad things, have become something worthwhile. Because, as a single adult, the more bad things you get out of the way early, the easier 30s and 40s will be as you surmount them.
There is no easy way to be an adult, period. And I don't think married people, or people with children have it easier. However, love is something that you can never take for granted, and being a single adult, you have to know where to look for love, and where to find it. Most importantly, you need to know the difference between love and wanting attention, and knowing what sates your needs, and what only exacerbates your neediness.
Because this single adult would like to live a rich life, and not a poor one. And while financial poverty is just fine for me (I make bag ladies look good!) emotional and spiritual poverty/depravity is not.
The only person who cares for a single adult is themselves, and, by extension, their other single friends, and sometimes their families, when/if their families aren't too busy. But thankfully, most of us, by time we're 30, learn how to love ourselves...because without it, a single adult can't hope to be more than a shadow self that belongs simply in one of three labels: barfly, recluse....or somewhat normal.
You have the option to be any kind of person as an adult, but I think most of us end up falling into one of two or three categories. Somewhat balanced, barfly, or recluse. It seems to me that you either have nothing better to do than make your life one giant party (barfly) or you can't be bothered with anyone your age because they annoy you too much (recluse) or you vacillitate between the two options depending on how you're feeling (which is, I think, somewhat normal).
Being a single adult is an interesting experience. In your 20s, it's somewhat exciting. You never know what's around the corner. As someone almost 30, it's a little different. You start to think about the rest of your life, and what it might look like. You wonder if you will have all your hair, or if parts of your body will sag. And you wonder, if you are the kind looking for a life partner, whether the same person you dreamed would find you attractive in your 20s will find you attractive in your 30s...or 40s.....50s? Will you be successful in your career, or will you live in your parents basement for the rest of your life?
Single adults have to constantly be doing 'something' because everyone else is so caught up with making family units (or being in the process of destroying them). I think that's why I tend to err on the side of a life that's a giant party than one that's reclusive. I did that for a year and a half here, and I was miserable....but once I let go of some of my inhibitions, life was something really special. Because it made everything old new again, and everything new, better. I might not have liked all the results from my choices in life, but I certainly liked the experience, and what I learned from it. Even bad things, very bad things, have become something worthwhile. Because, as a single adult, the more bad things you get out of the way early, the easier 30s and 40s will be as you surmount them.
There is no easy way to be an adult, period. And I don't think married people, or people with children have it easier. However, love is something that you can never take for granted, and being a single adult, you have to know where to look for love, and where to find it. Most importantly, you need to know the difference between love and wanting attention, and knowing what sates your needs, and what only exacerbates your neediness.
Because this single adult would like to live a rich life, and not a poor one. And while financial poverty is just fine for me (I make bag ladies look good!) emotional and spiritual poverty/depravity is not.
The only person who cares for a single adult is themselves, and, by extension, their other single friends, and sometimes their families, when/if their families aren't too busy. But thankfully, most of us, by time we're 30, learn how to love ourselves...because without it, a single adult can't hope to be more than a shadow self that belongs simply in one of three labels: barfly, recluse....or somewhat normal.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Saturday, February 09, 2013
This seems pretty accurate
 |
I took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! ""Seeking an escape from the things that are bringi..." Click here to read the rest of the results. |
I guess I am ready to do some bigger and better things? I feel like this was a pretty accurate description of life thus far.
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
TOW: Compassion and Jesus
I have had a couple people in my life experience some high-highs, and some lows-lows lately...and it's a little weird because normally I'm the one in the gutter. (No really, I was starting to think I lived there.)
Whenever I see people down, I think about whether I should be compassionate. And when I think compassion, I mean it in the Christian way.
Christian compassion is a very specific kind of charity.
To take a biblical example, as Jesus was apprehended by the Jewish authorities, a discple cut off the ear of a nearby guard. Jesus put the man's ear back on, healing him. The very people who would take him away and eventually condemn him to death, Jesus decided he cared more about what other people were doing to each other than the social judgment that was about to be passed on him.
Sometimes in life we experience things around us that suggest we should be worse people. We should let bad things happen to bad people. We should let good things happen to us. But from a Christian point of view, this is one of the worst kinds of evil. What tyrant wouldn't want only good things to happen to them, and bad things to happen to others? Indeed, inside of all of us, is a demon wishing the worst on every other living being, and the wishing the very best things for us. Such a thing, sad as it is, is an integral part of being human. The banality of evil is that we accept is much more if it is not happening to us. As long as we can keep bad things away from us, we think we are good.
But goodness is not about the removal of what is considered, socially or otherwise, evil. Goodness is about making difficult decisions that don't always mean that we are doing the best things for oursleves, but that we are trying our best to live our lives as servants of Christ. And that means to be a servant-leader to others as well.
Christianity, for all its weaknesses is special, and Catholicism especially, because in no other religion does one see a need, a desire, and a commitment beyond life or death to care for the young, the poor, women, and the downtrodden. Roman-Greco society, so easy to put on a pedestal, made its gains off of slavery. They killed babies they didn't want by smashing the baby's head on a rock, especially if they thought it was afflicted with any kind of special need or disability. In other words, atheist and other theist societies often killed off the weak.
Let's not kid ourselves thinking Christians and Christianity have not done bad things or excesses. But the mission of Christianity is compassion. True compassion, to all people, not matter how good, or how bad.
And that's what I've been thinking about this week.
Whenever I see people down, I think about whether I should be compassionate. And when I think compassion, I mean it in the Christian way.
Christian compassion is a very specific kind of charity.
To take a biblical example, as Jesus was apprehended by the Jewish authorities, a discple cut off the ear of a nearby guard. Jesus put the man's ear back on, healing him. The very people who would take him away and eventually condemn him to death, Jesus decided he cared more about what other people were doing to each other than the social judgment that was about to be passed on him.
Sometimes in life we experience things around us that suggest we should be worse people. We should let bad things happen to bad people. We should let good things happen to us. But from a Christian point of view, this is one of the worst kinds of evil. What tyrant wouldn't want only good things to happen to them, and bad things to happen to others? Indeed, inside of all of us, is a demon wishing the worst on every other living being, and the wishing the very best things for us. Such a thing, sad as it is, is an integral part of being human. The banality of evil is that we accept is much more if it is not happening to us. As long as we can keep bad things away from us, we think we are good.
But goodness is not about the removal of what is considered, socially or otherwise, evil. Goodness is about making difficult decisions that don't always mean that we are doing the best things for oursleves, but that we are trying our best to live our lives as servants of Christ. And that means to be a servant-leader to others as well.
Christianity, for all its weaknesses is special, and Catholicism especially, because in no other religion does one see a need, a desire, and a commitment beyond life or death to care for the young, the poor, women, and the downtrodden. Roman-Greco society, so easy to put on a pedestal, made its gains off of slavery. They killed babies they didn't want by smashing the baby's head on a rock, especially if they thought it was afflicted with any kind of special need or disability. In other words, atheist and other theist societies often killed off the weak.
Let's not kid ourselves thinking Christians and Christianity have not done bad things or excesses. But the mission of Christianity is compassion. True compassion, to all people, not matter how good, or how bad.
And that's what I've been thinking about this week.
Monday, January 28, 2013
So, I have re-entered the scary world of online dating
There.
I said it.
I did it.
I'm doing it.
It's SO bloody time consuming.
But I'm kinda glad I am.
I mean, once you get past all the shots of people trying to look sexy, here and there you meet interesting people.
I've decided I'm going to try and meet several cool people, and hope it goes well. I'd like to be able to make friends, and maybe even have a couple dates from it. Dates would be nice.
Well, we'll see. I'm not sure why I want to do this, but it'll be an adventure anyways. Maybe I'll even catalogue a few here.
I said it.
I did it.
I'm doing it.
It's SO bloody time consuming.
But I'm kinda glad I am.
I mean, once you get past all the shots of people trying to look sexy, here and there you meet interesting people.
I've decided I'm going to try and meet several cool people, and hope it goes well. I'd like to be able to make friends, and maybe even have a couple dates from it. Dates would be nice.
Well, we'll see. I'm not sure why I want to do this, but it'll be an adventure anyways. Maybe I'll even catalogue a few here.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
TOW: Knowing What We Want
"Knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is Enlightenment."
Lao Tzu
You know, there are a lot of books written about knowing what you want.
But the only person who can know the 'you' inside of you is you. And knowing you is the first step to knowing what we want.
I have many things in my life that I want. But I only know I want these things because I know a little bit about who I am, and who I want to be.
I can't say I have everything figured out, down to the last item, but I'm kind of glad I haven't done that yet. I used to be very much that way, but I've learned that life can change so quickly, that it's best to change with it. Being the same person forever....that's not for me. I want to be a better person than I've been in the past.
And to do that, I have to know what I want, at least in a general sense.
And to do that, I have to know me.
Lao Tzu
You know, there are a lot of books written about knowing what you want.
But the only person who can know the 'you' inside of you is you. And knowing you is the first step to knowing what we want.
I have many things in my life that I want. But I only know I want these things because I know a little bit about who I am, and who I want to be.
I can't say I have everything figured out, down to the last item, but I'm kind of glad I haven't done that yet. I used to be very much that way, but I've learned that life can change so quickly, that it's best to change with it. Being the same person forever....that's not for me. I want to be a better person than I've been in the past.
And to do that, I have to know what I want, at least in a general sense.
And to do that, I have to know me.
Monday, January 14, 2013
TOW: People Suck
My friend Liz and I have been have an ongoing, slightly amusing (for me) slightly stream-of-consciousness-faux-rage-induced-in-the-moment (for her) argument about whether or not 'People suck.'
First, Liz's argument: "People suck. I like individual people, but people as a whole, suck. They're stupid."
There might be more to this argument, but as far as I can tell, I've heard this particular line several times. (Please also note that the latest iteration of this argument happened while looking for a parking stall at IKEA on a Sunday.)
So the question must be: do people, in groups of certain kinds, fail to perform as well as individuals? Do people 'suck' while a singular person, as bad as they might be, is still be better than an average mob of dummy denizens?
Everyone has, at one time or another, heard the term herd behavior or herd mentality. Freud studied it. Nietzsche was famous for describing it. And anyone who has gone to a Walmart during peak hours has experienced it.
Herd behavior, simply put, is the individuals acting together without a planned direction. Demonstrations, riots, and mobs are all examples of this. But even when groups are planning, they still don't accomplish very much. Watching people drive around in circles for a parking stall is a good example. This activity is often fruitless, and even when it is, someone always manages to make another person angry with bad driving, talking on their cell phone, or by causing an accident. Two or more people have activities which cause them to experience friction...stress. And yes, in that moment, people seem to suck. Why? Because from our viewpoint, whenever we discover people acting without thinking, they are often doing so without considering how they might make others feel. These people are rude, inconsiderate, and quite frankly, often ignorant of the pain they cause.
From this perspective, \Liz is right. People do suck. Such behavior is sad at the best of times.
Perhaps the fact that being in public means being in a highly uncontrolled space full of individuals who are only partially aware that you exist, and therefore only partially care if they cause you any injury. But as humans, we can't help it. We can't help but look at what's most tantalizing or most distracting.
And yet, much can be accomplished by these masses of non-individuals. Student demonstrations, hippy marches, heck, even people protesting gay marriages with signs, they're all trying to accomplish something. They're trying to make their feelings known, as a group. And people coming together intentionally, even if they all arrive there for different reasons, is something that I can't help but admire.
People, in public spaces, will always frustrate us. But people in small groups, at a pub, that's a group of friends. Running into a gaggle of strangers that you get to chat with for an hour, that's special. It's often that we do want to lean on the negative side of things when we think of unorganized groups of individuals, but many of those groups are very life-affirming, and necessary, even if they frustrate us at the same time.
First, Liz's argument: "People suck. I like individual people, but people as a whole, suck. They're stupid."
There might be more to this argument, but as far as I can tell, I've heard this particular line several times. (Please also note that the latest iteration of this argument happened while looking for a parking stall at IKEA on a Sunday.)
So the question must be: do people, in groups of certain kinds, fail to perform as well as individuals? Do people 'suck' while a singular person, as bad as they might be, is still be better than an average mob of dummy denizens?
Everyone has, at one time or another, heard the term herd behavior or herd mentality. Freud studied it. Nietzsche was famous for describing it. And anyone who has gone to a Walmart during peak hours has experienced it.
Herd behavior, simply put, is the individuals acting together without a planned direction. Demonstrations, riots, and mobs are all examples of this. But even when groups are planning, they still don't accomplish very much. Watching people drive around in circles for a parking stall is a good example. This activity is often fruitless, and even when it is, someone always manages to make another person angry with bad driving, talking on their cell phone, or by causing an accident. Two or more people have activities which cause them to experience friction...stress. And yes, in that moment, people seem to suck. Why? Because from our viewpoint, whenever we discover people acting without thinking, they are often doing so without considering how they might make others feel. These people are rude, inconsiderate, and quite frankly, often ignorant of the pain they cause.
From this perspective, \Liz is right. People do suck. Such behavior is sad at the best of times.
Perhaps the fact that being in public means being in a highly uncontrolled space full of individuals who are only partially aware that you exist, and therefore only partially care if they cause you any injury. But as humans, we can't help it. We can't help but look at what's most tantalizing or most distracting.
And yet, much can be accomplished by these masses of non-individuals. Student demonstrations, hippy marches, heck, even people protesting gay marriages with signs, they're all trying to accomplish something. They're trying to make their feelings known, as a group. And people coming together intentionally, even if they all arrive there for different reasons, is something that I can't help but admire.
People, in public spaces, will always frustrate us. But people in small groups, at a pub, that's a group of friends. Running into a gaggle of strangers that you get to chat with for an hour, that's special. It's often that we do want to lean on the negative side of things when we think of unorganized groups of individuals, but many of those groups are very life-affirming, and necessary, even if they frustrate us at the same time.
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
TOW: Togetherness
In The Alchemist, Santiago goes in search of his personal dream and goes through many places, meeting many people. Eventually, Santiago and the Alchemist are captured by bandits. The Alchemist promises the bandits that Santiago is actually a great alchemist, and that Santiago turn into the wind in three days. \
For three days, Santiago contemplates the desert, and on the third day, he goes to a cliff, where he will be killed, or he will turn into the wind, and he will be let free from bandits.
Santiago speaks to the desert, who in turn tells him to speak to the wind. Santiago tells the wind he needs to become the wind because Santiago has a personal legend he must fulfill and that he can be the wind, because love can do anything. The wind tells him he is too different. The wind tells him to speak to the hand that wrote all. Santiago turns to the sun, and asks him to help him become the wind. The sun does not know how to do this, and Santiago says when something realizes its Personal Legend, it must change so it can acquire a new Personal Legend, for this is how alchemists turn lead into gold. The sun says that Santiago should speak with the Soul of the World.
Santiago goes to speak with the Soul of the World, but instead of speaking, listens, and then prays. The Soul of the World speaks to him, and becomes one with Santiago, and with the love that the Soul of the World has, Santiago knew he could perform miracles. And so, Santiago becomes the wind.
All I have been thinking about lately is about how Santiago became the wind. Not because he was one person, special, but because he was someone valued others, and placed his trust in them. It was asking, desiring, and words that made a miracle happen. The bandits that day thought Santiago was a great alchemist. But, being together with others was what made Santiago the wind. Not power. Not money. Not fame. Not expertise. But togetherness.
For three days, Santiago contemplates the desert, and on the third day, he goes to a cliff, where he will be killed, or he will turn into the wind, and he will be let free from bandits.
Santiago speaks to the desert, who in turn tells him to speak to the wind. Santiago tells the wind he needs to become the wind because Santiago has a personal legend he must fulfill and that he can be the wind, because love can do anything. The wind tells him he is too different. The wind tells him to speak to the hand that wrote all. Santiago turns to the sun, and asks him to help him become the wind. The sun does not know how to do this, and Santiago says when something realizes its Personal Legend, it must change so it can acquire a new Personal Legend, for this is how alchemists turn lead into gold. The sun says that Santiago should speak with the Soul of the World.
Santiago goes to speak with the Soul of the World, but instead of speaking, listens, and then prays. The Soul of the World speaks to him, and becomes one with Santiago, and with the love that the Soul of the World has, Santiago knew he could perform miracles. And so, Santiago becomes the wind.
All I have been thinking about lately is about how Santiago became the wind. Not because he was one person, special, but because he was someone valued others, and placed his trust in them. It was asking, desiring, and words that made a miracle happen. The bandits that day thought Santiago was a great alchemist. But, being together with others was what made Santiago the wind. Not power. Not money. Not fame. Not expertise. But togetherness.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
TOW: Blessings
I attended a very good mass this evening, and for once, I was not only very attentive, but also very connected. The priest was speaking on a subject I myself am currently wrestling with, which is what can be considered a blessing in one's life?
The wonderful, and also the most challenging thing about being a Christian is the fact that even the saddest of trials are meant to be blessings in our lives. We often call Mary, the mother of Jesus, the Blessed Mother of the Church. We considered her to be the most blessed human being, other than Jesus.
But what made her so blessed? Pregnant before marriage in a time when it was punishable by death, the cause of hundreds of infant deaths because some crazy king believed he would be overthrown by a baby born under the star of Bethlehem, exiled to another country as a refugee, she followed her son around, and watched him get punished and crucified by her own people and leaders within her community.
As the priest mentioned, "Do you think Mary felt blessed then?"
The wonderful thing about being a Christian, and about the birth of Jesus, the Annunciation, and Easter, is the Christian response to evil in the world. It's also the stumbling block for all non-Christians. It's because Christians believe that God allows certain evil things, things we don't understand, to happen. Why do people have to die? Why does evil exist?
The question I struggle with regularly is the problem of evil...but I feel relatively at ease with where I am with my own answer. Blessings still abound amongst a world filled with things that are 'not right.'
I think that blessings for a Christian means a perspective. I cannot explain the presence of God in any other way other than to say that all those things...those small things which can seemingly ruin our lives, small things that turn into large things that makes us obsessed, full of neuroses, damaged...these things are nothing to a blessed person. Because someone blessed does not ignore the importance of evil in the world...but it is so much less. The experience of God, the experience of the reality of good is so strong, that acknowledgement of evil does not affect the trajectory of goodness. Goodness is always pointed straight at it's target.
So, this season, I will not be looking to 'count' my blessings. I am aiming for something better than that.
Monday, December 10, 2012
TOW: Productivity
This isn't a long thought, but sometimes productivity can get in the way of things that really matter in your life.
As we come closer to the Christmas season (and especially, as a Catholic, during Advent) it's a time of reflection on the goodness of life, and the joy that is possible.
I know that lately, in my life, I take getting things done as a sign of success, versus the ability to reflect on things, which I think is it's own kind of success.
Action, and reflection are two important things that make us human, and thoughtful. One without the other is often meaningless.
Sometimes too much of one leads to not enough of the other.
One of the reasons I love winter is because it forces us to really curl up in whatever place we call home, and spend quality time with ourselves, our family, and those we love.
Productivity is action, but action in the sense of doing those things you love. Reflection is about thinking on those things worth loving, and thinking of how to pursue them in an intelligent and strategic manner.
Life has meaning when we are productive. But productivity isn't always about results....sometimes it's about the ability to know what those results mean.
As we come closer to the Christmas season (and especially, as a Catholic, during Advent) it's a time of reflection on the goodness of life, and the joy that is possible.
I know that lately, in my life, I take getting things done as a sign of success, versus the ability to reflect on things, which I think is it's own kind of success.
Action, and reflection are two important things that make us human, and thoughtful. One without the other is often meaningless.
Sometimes too much of one leads to not enough of the other.
One of the reasons I love winter is because it forces us to really curl up in whatever place we call home, and spend quality time with ourselves, our family, and those we love.
Productivity is action, but action in the sense of doing those things you love. Reflection is about thinking on those things worth loving, and thinking of how to pursue them in an intelligent and strategic manner.
Life has meaning when we are productive. But productivity isn't always about results....sometimes it's about the ability to know what those results mean.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
TOW: I had the time of my life
I spoke with my good friend Liz about a man I met in a bar last night. He was 38, single, and he was dressed in the same kind of clothes I was wearing. We chatted outside for a while, and the conversation, while pleasant, revealed one thing to me.
This man was not happy with the phase of his life.
Perhaps he hadn't yet discovered how to be a man in his late 30s. Without trying to be rude, I do think the man sincerely wished he was still in his 20s. I can see myself feeling that way when I am his age. Maybe.
But I don't think I will be.
Over the last few years, I have had a bad habit of going to bars, having quite a bit to drink, making out with strangers, getting random phone numbers, etc.
It was fun. I was going through a couple of rough things in my life and quite frankly, I needed some form of release. Cue on booze-loving friend and a whole lot of drama later, and you have a good summary of my life in Toronto. It was hard. There were a lot of very hard things. I did what some people do when things are very hard. You try to forget who you are, at least for a little while, and try to live a life of adventure that doesn't make you worry about who you are versus who you should be.
It's a bad way to live your life, though it is a very good way to get over things you never want to have in your life ever again. And I think I'm in that place...now. After 3-4 years. It was a time in my life, and that time is now passing. I do believe another time in my life is coming on. And I'm happy to move towards it.
I believe every time in our lives has an expiry date. We can only be a certain way for so long. If we take too long, our peers leave us behind. Which can be ok, sometimes. But most of the time, people who are out of sync with themselves make us uncomfortable.
I am now much more interested in living the kind of life that advances meaning, learning, and prestige in my life. For a while I needed adventure. Now I need a certain amount of stability to couple with my spirit of adventure.
And I am searching for those things that will make my life stable and yet still interesting. It's a struggle, but changing life phases is part of what life is all about.
And also, in a way, part of who I am. I'm someone always changing. And I kind of like that about myself.
This man was not happy with the phase of his life.
Perhaps he hadn't yet discovered how to be a man in his late 30s. Without trying to be rude, I do think the man sincerely wished he was still in his 20s. I can see myself feeling that way when I am his age. Maybe.
But I don't think I will be.
Over the last few years, I have had a bad habit of going to bars, having quite a bit to drink, making out with strangers, getting random phone numbers, etc.
It was fun. I was going through a couple of rough things in my life and quite frankly, I needed some form of release. Cue on booze-loving friend and a whole lot of drama later, and you have a good summary of my life in Toronto. It was hard. There were a lot of very hard things. I did what some people do when things are very hard. You try to forget who you are, at least for a little while, and try to live a life of adventure that doesn't make you worry about who you are versus who you should be.
It's a bad way to live your life, though it is a very good way to get over things you never want to have in your life ever again. And I think I'm in that place...now. After 3-4 years. It was a time in my life, and that time is now passing. I do believe another time in my life is coming on. And I'm happy to move towards it.
I believe every time in our lives has an expiry date. We can only be a certain way for so long. If we take too long, our peers leave us behind. Which can be ok, sometimes. But most of the time, people who are out of sync with themselves make us uncomfortable.
I am now much more interested in living the kind of life that advances meaning, learning, and prestige in my life. For a while I needed adventure. Now I need a certain amount of stability to couple with my spirit of adventure.
And I am searching for those things that will make my life stable and yet still interesting. It's a struggle, but changing life phases is part of what life is all about.
And also, in a way, part of who I am. I'm someone always changing. And I kind of like that about myself.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
TOW: Organizational skills
It's been a really crazy week, and I lost a lot of sleep. Part of that sleep loss was definitely because I wasn't as organized as I would have liked to be.
I can blame it on the french class that started this week, I can blame it on the president being in three days this week, I can blame it on a lot of things, but really, it just comes down to organization.
What matters, what's a priority?
The problem with prioritizing tasks is you are rarely in control of the entire process. At work, you may want to do certain tasks in a certain order, but sometimes it's your manager or the director that reorganizes your task list for you. And sometimes that can be really upsetting, and make it difficult to 'get back on track.' (I now laugh a sad little laugh when I think of the phrase 'must be able to work in a fast-paced environment.) Worse, when one priority changes, often it affects and entire chain of workloads. Suddenly, you have a completely new schedule. And you have to reorganize things, once again.
Though my friends often give me that narrow-eyed look when I talk about being organized, I secretly am. I have lists upon lists that I use to organize my life. To do lists, check boxes, that I constantly revise to update what I am doing and where I am going.
The problem is not being organized. The problem is prioritization of tasks, and knowing how long a task will take. I find that I often fail to take into account how long a task will take, even though I make a plan for it. (This, my friends and family would certainly agree with....if they've ever watched me make a meal.)
I think I am trying to get my life back on a schedule that isn't simply events with friends...and |I'm starting to do more 'time-blocks' of activities, such as my French class, blocking off time to work on my game, and volunteering. |I have a couple ideas for volunteering I'd really like to fulfill actually. I just hope I can find the time come the new year.
But like all things in life, I seem to want things to happen now, and, in a bull-headed manner, charge straight towards a goal. Once I plan something initially, sometimes I swear I think force of will propels me to success. And sometimes it does. But sometimes it doesn't. And that's where the phrase 'smarter, not harder' certainly applies.
And I'm certainly trying to do things smarter. I just hope I eventually get there. >_>
I can blame it on the french class that started this week, I can blame it on the president being in three days this week, I can blame it on a lot of things, but really, it just comes down to organization.
What matters, what's a priority?
The problem with prioritizing tasks is you are rarely in control of the entire process. At work, you may want to do certain tasks in a certain order, but sometimes it's your manager or the director that reorganizes your task list for you. And sometimes that can be really upsetting, and make it difficult to 'get back on track.' (I now laugh a sad little laugh when I think of the phrase 'must be able to work in a fast-paced environment.) Worse, when one priority changes, often it affects and entire chain of workloads. Suddenly, you have a completely new schedule. And you have to reorganize things, once again.
Though my friends often give me that narrow-eyed look when I talk about being organized, I secretly am. I have lists upon lists that I use to organize my life. To do lists, check boxes, that I constantly revise to update what I am doing and where I am going.
The problem is not being organized. The problem is prioritization of tasks, and knowing how long a task will take. I find that I often fail to take into account how long a task will take, even though I make a plan for it. (This, my friends and family would certainly agree with....if they've ever watched me make a meal.)
I think I am trying to get my life back on a schedule that isn't simply events with friends...and |I'm starting to do more 'time-blocks' of activities, such as my French class, blocking off time to work on my game, and volunteering. |I have a couple ideas for volunteering I'd really like to fulfill actually. I just hope I can find the time come the new year.
But like all things in life, I seem to want things to happen now, and, in a bull-headed manner, charge straight towards a goal. Once I plan something initially, sometimes I swear I think force of will propels me to success. And sometimes it does. But sometimes it doesn't. And that's where the phrase 'smarter, not harder' certainly applies.
And I'm certainly trying to do things smarter. I just hope I eventually get there. >_>
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
TOW: Expectations
I think we all get caught up in expectations.
Whether we expect a raise, a promotion, a proposal, a fated meeting, or even an exam result.
And we don't assume something...we all just hope for the best, and sometimes that hope turns into an image in our mind....a thing that you wish could be realized.
What I have been thinking about recently is about what I expect of others, and what others expect of me.
I think others expect a lot of me....and I think I regularly fail them in their expectations.
Sometimes I wish I was better than I am.
Other times I wish other people were better than they were.
But most of all, I wish people understood each other better.
Whether we expect a raise, a promotion, a proposal, a fated meeting, or even an exam result.
And we don't assume something...we all just hope for the best, and sometimes that hope turns into an image in our mind....a thing that you wish could be realized.
What I have been thinking about recently is about what I expect of others, and what others expect of me.
I think others expect a lot of me....and I think I regularly fail them in their expectations.
Sometimes I wish I was better than I am.
Other times I wish other people were better than they were.
But most of all, I wish people understood each other better.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
TOW: Faith
Faith.
I have been thinking a lot about the idea of faith as a concept. It's not something that people talk about much these days. You don't often hear the term 'have faith in me' or ' I will always be faithful.' Faith in people, ideas, or concepts is lost on this generation, and perhaps on this particular era's agnostic milieu. Faith is a dying concept for people of my generation. And it continues to bear less importance in daily Western culture as reason, and science, continue to showcase interesting things to consumers of culture. But what does faith mean in a moral sense?
To me, faith is an important aspect of moral life. No good can be done without faith. Good actions can only happen when we do more than assume, when we see something so clearly in our hearts that we wish to make real, that we bring forth an idea, a feeling, a desire into action. Faith can show the strength of our resolve. Love is weak-will when one does not have faith. Hope is meaningless if there is no strength of action that can see hope through a dark storm. In many ways, faith is an intention as much as a belief: a belief, or perhaps even a desire for the good to be done in the world as it should be. And to believe in things that cannot be seen, except by our hearts and minds.
In a religious sense, faith, hope, and love form the start of all Christian beliefs. Nothing can be done without these three standing together.
And one of the problems of modernity is being too hung up in deliverables, practicals, and small details. Faith was something that built cathedrals of old, inspired art that went on for hundreds, or thousands of years. Faith moved mountains. And those who had faith were much richer for it.
Today, I think about the value and role of faith in my own life. It is interesting to see how faith has become less important as I become older, and the need to 'validate' becoming ever more important. I hpe one day I can return to those eyes I had, that gave me all I needed to succeed, by believing what I was doing was going to create good in my life, and in the lives of those around me. Because faith, like St. Augustine says, 'is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.'
I want, one day, to be able to say I did that.
I have been thinking a lot about the idea of faith as a concept. It's not something that people talk about much these days. You don't often hear the term 'have faith in me' or ' I will always be faithful.' Faith in people, ideas, or concepts is lost on this generation, and perhaps on this particular era's agnostic milieu. Faith is a dying concept for people of my generation. And it continues to bear less importance in daily Western culture as reason, and science, continue to showcase interesting things to consumers of culture. But what does faith mean in a moral sense?
To me, faith is an important aspect of moral life. No good can be done without faith. Good actions can only happen when we do more than assume, when we see something so clearly in our hearts that we wish to make real, that we bring forth an idea, a feeling, a desire into action. Faith can show the strength of our resolve. Love is weak-will when one does not have faith. Hope is meaningless if there is no strength of action that can see hope through a dark storm. In many ways, faith is an intention as much as a belief: a belief, or perhaps even a desire for the good to be done in the world as it should be. And to believe in things that cannot be seen, except by our hearts and minds.
In a religious sense, faith, hope, and love form the start of all Christian beliefs. Nothing can be done without these three standing together.
And one of the problems of modernity is being too hung up in deliverables, practicals, and small details. Faith was something that built cathedrals of old, inspired art that went on for hundreds, or thousands of years. Faith moved mountains. And those who had faith were much richer for it.
Today, I think about the value and role of faith in my own life. It is interesting to see how faith has become less important as I become older, and the need to 'validate' becoming ever more important. I hpe one day I can return to those eyes I had, that gave me all I needed to succeed, by believing what I was doing was going to create good in my life, and in the lives of those around me. Because faith, like St. Augustine says, 'is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.'
I want, one day, to be able to say I did that.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
What's the Meaning of Life?
A lot of people, famous, interesting people, have tried to answer this question.But to me, this question doesn't have value. In fact, it rather seems silly that we think philosophers of any kind sit on rocks, contemplating existence, and saying the benign phrase, "What is the meaning of life?"
What is the meaning of life is like saying, "What is the meaning of chairs? What is the meaning of spiders? What is the meaning of ukelele bandits?" In each case, clarification is required. The question itself doesn't mean anything without clarification.
A better question might be, "What is the meaning of my life? What gives my life meaning?"
Because, as you know, we do not exist as 'everything' that's alive, but we do exist as ourselves. And we can talk about what it means to be alive, as us.
So a good question, and one that I have been thinking about for a very long time, is, "What gives my life meaning?"
And I have thought about many people: friends, family, allies, enemies, peers, strangers--many people, who, day-to-day, make my life interesting and meaningful. I think of the tasks, the chores, the objects (often that remind me of people or feelings) that give my life meaning. The things I enjoy, the things I don't enjoy, etc.
And these are all things that give my life meaning. But this isn't the most important thing to me.
The most important thing in my life comes with another question: "What my purpose in life?". What can I do in the world that will give my life sustainable, ultimate meaning outside of those things that I label pleasurable, unpleasurable, good/bad? Who am I, what do I stand for, and what does that mean in terms of where my life is leading me?
I have thoughts about this, almost daily, and sometimes I wonder about this desire or that desire, but more than anything, I ask myself, "Where can I do good in the world, right now? Where can I find goodness so that I feel I have a purpose in my life?"
Sometimes my purposefullness is simply about being a good friend, listening to someone in need, or doing my job well. Sometimes it's about prayer, about writing, sometimes it's about being my own master of my own domain, life, etc. Sometimes it's about questioning myself and the world around me. Most days I feel like I'm a lot of people in one body. I love to do a lot of different things, and those different things lead me in many different directions.
Maybe we will never be able to completely nail down the meaning in our own lives, especially in this internet age, of information that goes so fast that it cannot be digested before it is already old news. But we can still solidify themes, ideas, moments in our lives that perhaps are driving us towards our purpose, whatever that might be.
What is the meaning of life is like saying, "What is the meaning of chairs? What is the meaning of spiders? What is the meaning of ukelele bandits?" In each case, clarification is required. The question itself doesn't mean anything without clarification.
A better question might be, "What is the meaning of my life? What gives my life meaning?"
Because, as you know, we do not exist as 'everything' that's alive, but we do exist as ourselves. And we can talk about what it means to be alive, as us.
So a good question, and one that I have been thinking about for a very long time, is, "What gives my life meaning?"
And I have thought about many people: friends, family, allies, enemies, peers, strangers--many people, who, day-to-day, make my life interesting and meaningful. I think of the tasks, the chores, the objects (often that remind me of people or feelings) that give my life meaning. The things I enjoy, the things I don't enjoy, etc.
And these are all things that give my life meaning. But this isn't the most important thing to me.
The most important thing in my life comes with another question: "What my purpose in life?". What can I do in the world that will give my life sustainable, ultimate meaning outside of those things that I label pleasurable, unpleasurable, good/bad? Who am I, what do I stand for, and what does that mean in terms of where my life is leading me?
I have thoughts about this, almost daily, and sometimes I wonder about this desire or that desire, but more than anything, I ask myself, "Where can I do good in the world, right now? Where can I find goodness so that I feel I have a purpose in my life?"
Sometimes my purposefullness is simply about being a good friend, listening to someone in need, or doing my job well. Sometimes it's about prayer, about writing, sometimes it's about being my own master of my own domain, life, etc. Sometimes it's about questioning myself and the world around me. Most days I feel like I'm a lot of people in one body. I love to do a lot of different things, and those different things lead me in many different directions.
Maybe we will never be able to completely nail down the meaning in our own lives, especially in this internet age, of information that goes so fast that it cannot be digested before it is already old news. But we can still solidify themes, ideas, moments in our lives that perhaps are driving us towards our purpose, whatever that might be.
Monday, October 08, 2012
TOW: Thanksgiving
Every year around thanksgiving, I tend to do a post about what I'm thankful for.
I'm thankful for several things this year:
I'm thankful for several things this year:
- Great friends, and deepening relationships within my family
- A good work life, which, while it has its challenges, is still worthwhile and giving me the kind of experience I want and need
- My health. I feel very, very lucky in this regard
- My mental health. I feel just as lucky.
- Challenges. I feel like life has been giving me a lot of challenges lately, but not the kind I can't overcome...the kind that make me a stronger and better person. They're the good kind.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
TOW: Feeling Helpless
I've very sorry I haven't blogged since I-don't-know-when. Between my move and work, life has been very busy. And I thought it would be good to share here my feelings over my new apartment.
I loved my apartment the first week I had it. It was quiet here, the people seemed to keep to themselves, and I was looking forward to living in a nice, new, safe area. I had made myself a new home, and it was a liberating feeling.
Then I discovered my apartment was infested with bedbugs. And, my life is officially over for the next year and a half.
For those of you who aren't aware, bedbugs are a small, non-flying bug that feed on you in the middle of the night, much like a mosquito. The only difference is that mosquitos are noticeable and have a fairly short life cycle. Bedbugs, on the other hand, can live for years and breed at a rate of up to five bugs per day, and are resilent and nearly impossible to kill unless you see an adult bug, and you kill it, right then and there. Even better, they hide in your mattress, destroying it as they infest it, since they will defecate right after they eat, then breed in the same spot. In a word, they are vile. Vile beyond words and images. Very few creatures, even in the kingdom of bugs, crap where they eat.
I discovered them 10 days after moving in. A day after my birthday.
I have thrown out half of my belongings, everything else is in garbage bags, quarantined. I am sitting here, in my only ikea chair, which I have sprayed with chemical before, and I have just found out today that bedbugs are living inside of the cushion of my chair. I now know why I would see them crawling across my pant leg as I worked on my computer.
They were definitely here before I moved. because my previous landlord has had no complaints about bed bugs in my previous apartment. I have never had them. The new landlord has been very...threatening. He will not pay for pest control. It's been a rough couple weeks.
I'm going to be out several thousand dollars by time this process is finished, with or without a lawsuit, and I haven't slept more than 3-4 hours a night in a week, without waking up, turning on the lights, and searching for bugs. I can't go anywhere without ironing the inside and outside of my clothes to the point of nearly burning them for fear of them leaving the apartment with me. I have no idea what I'm going to do if another tenant blames me for them, even though, it is not my fault, and I handle everything I do with the utmost care within my unit.
And this week, I want to think and write about how helpless I feel. Not quite at a breaking point, but helpless. I'm sluggish, indecisive, and more emotional than I'd care to admit. Going to bed is a coaching process. Pretending everything is alright so I don't have panic attacks is also a process.
Being in this situation has started to remind me of one of the books that has most impressed me, The Plague by Albert Camus. In it, Camus writes about a community that is quarantined and the medical workers, priests, and mafia that exist in the hellish space of dead bodies, searching for a cure, all while the people die and no one is allowed to leave. Anyone who attempts is shot by the outsiders, who are keeping the town quarantined.
The defining moment in the novel for me was as Dr. Rieux, the protagonist, attempts to treat a young boy, Jacques Othon with a serum he is developing. The child is in his death throes, and the scream he lets out as he dies is so horrific that it affects both Rieux and his colleagues. The serum is ineffective for the youngest, the most vulnerable, perhaps the one most in need. The scream, the feeling of pain, the moment of death, all wrapped together in a sad moment of sickness.
My apartment is like a sick person. Everything that it touches becomes sick with this problem. Everything that enters this apartment slowly goes from 'clean' to 'infected.' Much like the plague, I am isolated and contained, and I have not yet developed a cure, if there even is one available. Some of the characters involved are innocent bystanders, wondering what could happen. At times, I regard people around me in the apartment building with both suspicion, fear and paranoia. Some observers of this issue tell me I have nothing to fear, while others within are completely oblivious to the dangers present.
Such is my situation, a plague of my very own to contend with. I am my very own narrator in an absurd encased world with very little hope of making rational sense of why this happened to me, or where this problem could have arisen.
The one beautiful thing, if still absurd at the end of The Plague, is that it ends. The plague ends, partially due to careful medical care by professionals, and partially due to the absurdity of life, in that eventually diseases go away, even epidemics.
So, too, do I consider my situation to be one like The Plague. It is a situation that promises to be a true trial, no matter what path I take. Nothing good can come of this situation. The only good thing that might arise it things returning to the way they were, or could have been, before I had this problem.
The other scenario is that they follow me wherever I go, much like the plague. For I too, am now part of a general infection that no one wishes to speak or think about. I too, am something to be cleaned, cured, and fixed.
And such a feeling can only leave one feeling helpless.
I loved my apartment the first week I had it. It was quiet here, the people seemed to keep to themselves, and I was looking forward to living in a nice, new, safe area. I had made myself a new home, and it was a liberating feeling.
Then I discovered my apartment was infested with bedbugs. And, my life is officially over for the next year and a half.
For those of you who aren't aware, bedbugs are a small, non-flying bug that feed on you in the middle of the night, much like a mosquito. The only difference is that mosquitos are noticeable and have a fairly short life cycle. Bedbugs, on the other hand, can live for years and breed at a rate of up to five bugs per day, and are resilent and nearly impossible to kill unless you see an adult bug, and you kill it, right then and there. Even better, they hide in your mattress, destroying it as they infest it, since they will defecate right after they eat, then breed in the same spot. In a word, they are vile. Vile beyond words and images. Very few creatures, even in the kingdom of bugs, crap where they eat.
I discovered them 10 days after moving in. A day after my birthday.
I have thrown out half of my belongings, everything else is in garbage bags, quarantined. I am sitting here, in my only ikea chair, which I have sprayed with chemical before, and I have just found out today that bedbugs are living inside of the cushion of my chair. I now know why I would see them crawling across my pant leg as I worked on my computer.
They were definitely here before I moved. because my previous landlord has had no complaints about bed bugs in my previous apartment. I have never had them. The new landlord has been very...threatening. He will not pay for pest control. It's been a rough couple weeks.
I'm going to be out several thousand dollars by time this process is finished, with or without a lawsuit, and I haven't slept more than 3-4 hours a night in a week, without waking up, turning on the lights, and searching for bugs. I can't go anywhere without ironing the inside and outside of my clothes to the point of nearly burning them for fear of them leaving the apartment with me. I have no idea what I'm going to do if another tenant blames me for them, even though, it is not my fault, and I handle everything I do with the utmost care within my unit.
And this week, I want to think and write about how helpless I feel. Not quite at a breaking point, but helpless. I'm sluggish, indecisive, and more emotional than I'd care to admit. Going to bed is a coaching process. Pretending everything is alright so I don't have panic attacks is also a process.
Being in this situation has started to remind me of one of the books that has most impressed me, The Plague by Albert Camus. In it, Camus writes about a community that is quarantined and the medical workers, priests, and mafia that exist in the hellish space of dead bodies, searching for a cure, all while the people die and no one is allowed to leave. Anyone who attempts is shot by the outsiders, who are keeping the town quarantined.
The defining moment in the novel for me was as Dr. Rieux, the protagonist, attempts to treat a young boy, Jacques Othon with a serum he is developing. The child is in his death throes, and the scream he lets out as he dies is so horrific that it affects both Rieux and his colleagues. The serum is ineffective for the youngest, the most vulnerable, perhaps the one most in need. The scream, the feeling of pain, the moment of death, all wrapped together in a sad moment of sickness.
My apartment is like a sick person. Everything that it touches becomes sick with this problem. Everything that enters this apartment slowly goes from 'clean' to 'infected.' Much like the plague, I am isolated and contained, and I have not yet developed a cure, if there even is one available. Some of the characters involved are innocent bystanders, wondering what could happen. At times, I regard people around me in the apartment building with both suspicion, fear and paranoia. Some observers of this issue tell me I have nothing to fear, while others within are completely oblivious to the dangers present.
Such is my situation, a plague of my very own to contend with. I am my very own narrator in an absurd encased world with very little hope of making rational sense of why this happened to me, or where this problem could have arisen.
The one beautiful thing, if still absurd at the end of The Plague, is that it ends. The plague ends, partially due to careful medical care by professionals, and partially due to the absurdity of life, in that eventually diseases go away, even epidemics.
So, too, do I consider my situation to be one like The Plague. It is a situation that promises to be a true trial, no matter what path I take. Nothing good can come of this situation. The only good thing that might arise it things returning to the way they were, or could have been, before I had this problem.
The other scenario is that they follow me wherever I go, much like the plague. For I too, am now part of a general infection that no one wishes to speak or think about. I too, am something to be cleaned, cured, and fixed.
And such a feeling can only leave one feeling helpless.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
TOW: Getting Older
So it was my birthday last Sunday.
And like most birthdays, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Starting with the worst of things: One of my best friends got embarrassingly drunk at my party and left in the middle of it (while alienating all my other friends), I was both hungover and puking from food poisoning on my actual birthday, and I discovered bed bugs in my new apartment the day after my birthday.
The best things: I had 14 people come out to my birthday. And they all wanted to be there and they were all really happy to see me. I can tell you how much that meant to me. When I first arrived in Toronto for the first two years, I had the same people come out to my birthday, every time. And every time, it felt a bit sad because I felt like I wasn't trying hard enough to make new friends. Now I know lots of people that I can trust and that I care about deeply in this city. (Even if I don't care deeply for this city.)
I got tons of phone calls and texts. So many that I couldn't answer them all on my birthday, and so many happy birthday wishes on Facebook it just made me feel really, really great.
I got to sleep all day on my birthday. It felt amazing. (Although I was sick as a dog, I still loved it)
A random friend showed up on my birthday to crash at my new place and he brought me food and drink and we had a little picnic in my furniture-less abode.
Overall, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. It had a little bit of everything: Friend drama, feeling close and loved, a party for many, a party for two, a day of rest, a day of sickness good things, bad things, birthday presents, birthday cake...it was all good.
And all this time I'm getting older, I can only think of one thing: I like being older. I like most of the things that being older brings. I will always miss certain things from my youth, but I think we all miss things we don't have anymore...but generally speaking I'm really happy with the way my life is, and somewhat happy with the direction it's going.
And I think the key to happiness for me these days is to enjoy the getting older bit, and to treasure the moments as they pass, and I feel like I've been doing a really great job of that lately.
Now if only I could get rid of those bedbugs.
And like most birthdays, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Starting with the worst of things: One of my best friends got embarrassingly drunk at my party and left in the middle of it (while alienating all my other friends), I was both hungover and puking from food poisoning on my actual birthday, and I discovered bed bugs in my new apartment the day after my birthday.
The best things: I had 14 people come out to my birthday. And they all wanted to be there and they were all really happy to see me. I can tell you how much that meant to me. When I first arrived in Toronto for the first two years, I had the same people come out to my birthday, every time. And every time, it felt a bit sad because I felt like I wasn't trying hard enough to make new friends. Now I know lots of people that I can trust and that I care about deeply in this city. (Even if I don't care deeply for this city.)
I got tons of phone calls and texts. So many that I couldn't answer them all on my birthday, and so many happy birthday wishes on Facebook it just made me feel really, really great.
I got to sleep all day on my birthday. It felt amazing. (Although I was sick as a dog, I still loved it)
A random friend showed up on my birthday to crash at my new place and he brought me food and drink and we had a little picnic in my furniture-less abode.
Overall, it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. It had a little bit of everything: Friend drama, feeling close and loved, a party for many, a party for two, a day of rest, a day of sickness good things, bad things, birthday presents, birthday cake...it was all good.
And all this time I'm getting older, I can only think of one thing: I like being older. I like most of the things that being older brings. I will always miss certain things from my youth, but I think we all miss things we don't have anymore...but generally speaking I'm really happy with the way my life is, and somewhat happy with the direction it's going.
And I think the key to happiness for me these days is to enjoy the getting older bit, and to treasure the moments as they pass, and I feel like I've been doing a really great job of that lately.
Now if only I could get rid of those bedbugs.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
TOW: Let the Universe Give You a Hug
It's often said in 'The Secret' that the law of attraction will get you far in life, and positive thinking attracts positive things your way. But there's something missing from this equation. I like to call it "Let the Universe Give You a Hug."
This principle is very simple. Whenever something bad, untoward, or unlucky happens, immediately stop, and think about how much you wish someone would tell you everything is going to be alright. Then tell yourself, instead of everything is going to be alright, that you deserve a big hug, and that even though it's not perfect life you have, the universe loves you anyways.
The reason this is so important is because positive thinking doesn't work well when something bad happens to us. Humans are cautious by nature, and feel like they can expect bad things over time. During a 'bad time' or 'a stroke of bad luck' we still need a way to weather stormy times. Because positive thinking doesn't always bring good things our way. Sometimes it brings bad things our way.
From the thinking side of things, it's important we think about why things happen to us so we can move on with our lives. Otherwise, we repeat the same mistakes, over and over again. And that's bad.
From the practical side of things, I find the desire to get a giant hug from something bigger and paternal key to making this make me feel infinitely better. Because I think love is what you need to be happy in life, and how we should measure ourselves is not when things are great, but when things are difficult. We all need a little love from something bigger than us when things are hard.
So let the universe give you a hug. It's feel really nice.
This principle is very simple. Whenever something bad, untoward, or unlucky happens, immediately stop, and think about how much you wish someone would tell you everything is going to be alright. Then tell yourself, instead of everything is going to be alright, that you deserve a big hug, and that even though it's not perfect life you have, the universe loves you anyways.
The reason this is so important is because positive thinking doesn't work well when something bad happens to us. Humans are cautious by nature, and feel like they can expect bad things over time. During a 'bad time' or 'a stroke of bad luck' we still need a way to weather stormy times. Because positive thinking doesn't always bring good things our way. Sometimes it brings bad things our way.
From the thinking side of things, it's important we think about why things happen to us so we can move on with our lives. Otherwise, we repeat the same mistakes, over and over again. And that's bad.
From the practical side of things, I find the desire to get a giant hug from something bigger and paternal key to making this make me feel infinitely better. Because I think love is what you need to be happy in life, and how we should measure ourselves is not when things are great, but when things are difficult. We all need a little love from something bigger than us when things are hard.
So let the universe give you a hug. It's feel really nice.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
TOW: Adult Fears
"Ostensibly healthy
life is interspersed with a great number of trivial and in practice
unimportant symptoms [...] neurosis is the inability to tolerate ambiguity." -Sigmund Freud
It's funny how the things that you disliked as a child or teenager become things you hate and fear the older you get.
For example, I used to dislike bugs when I was a child, or messes, when I was younger. Now that I'm older, I find that even seeing a messy kitchen or a messy room can stress me out, and bugs in general I scream like a little girl whenever I see them. (Although maybe that wasn't that different than when I was a child.)
Back in the day, I might have had a slightly negative reaction, but the older I get, I find my reactions to negative events in my life to be more and more extreme.
And it's not just me who feels this way. There's the cafe mocha drinking-lady who starts yelling at the streetcar driver if she misses her streetcar, dashing in high heels while carrying a Starbucks pastry of some kind. There's the old lady who doesn't get on the subway because it's too full of people. There's the businessman who won't talk to his female colleagues because he's intimidated by them. And most of these things are things that happened in childhood, or young adulthood, and have become pressure points for us.
Freud called these neuroses: they were things that we couldn't process because they caused us pain, and we can only now go on to start to deal with them. Maybe that old lady had a traumatic experience in a crowd when she was younger. Maybe the businessman was laughed at by a group of girls during high school. We all create mechanisms or warning signs to stop up from having unpleasant experiences.
And herein lies the kicker: We want psychological cues that protect us from events, but we want them to be black and white. There can be no good crowds, no good events of missing the streetcar, no good can come from treating your female colleagues well, etc. We have our frame of reference, and flawed or not, we feel better holding onto it than changing it for the better. Most of the time, this is a fairly harmless way to live.
The problem is when our neuroses stop helping us achieve a normal, pleasurable life, and start taking away from it. The neurotic person that needs treatment simply has more debilitating symptom-formations that prevent enjoyment and active achievement in life.
As an adult, we all have fears. We all have things that we wished hadn't happened to us, and we wish we had done. But the crux of a happy life resides in being able to shape our own bad habits into something useful to us, a weapon against all the bad things that happen to us. Otherwise, those protective elements in our lives stop protecting us, and simply cut us off from the society we should enjoy. To live life well is a life with fewer fears rather than more fears, and a good life is one that is free of those fears that stop us from achieving success in our personal and public lives.
It's funny how the things that you disliked as a child or teenager become things you hate and fear the older you get.
For example, I used to dislike bugs when I was a child, or messes, when I was younger. Now that I'm older, I find that even seeing a messy kitchen or a messy room can stress me out, and bugs in general I scream like a little girl whenever I see them. (Although maybe that wasn't that different than when I was a child.)
Back in the day, I might have had a slightly negative reaction, but the older I get, I find my reactions to negative events in my life to be more and more extreme.
And it's not just me who feels this way. There's the cafe mocha drinking-lady who starts yelling at the streetcar driver if she misses her streetcar, dashing in high heels while carrying a Starbucks pastry of some kind. There's the old lady who doesn't get on the subway because it's too full of people. There's the businessman who won't talk to his female colleagues because he's intimidated by them. And most of these things are things that happened in childhood, or young adulthood, and have become pressure points for us.
Freud called these neuroses: they were things that we couldn't process because they caused us pain, and we can only now go on to start to deal with them. Maybe that old lady had a traumatic experience in a crowd when she was younger. Maybe the businessman was laughed at by a group of girls during high school. We all create mechanisms or warning signs to stop up from having unpleasant experiences.
And herein lies the kicker: We want psychological cues that protect us from events, but we want them to be black and white. There can be no good crowds, no good events of missing the streetcar, no good can come from treating your female colleagues well, etc. We have our frame of reference, and flawed or not, we feel better holding onto it than changing it for the better. Most of the time, this is a fairly harmless way to live.
The problem is when our neuroses stop helping us achieve a normal, pleasurable life, and start taking away from it. The neurotic person that needs treatment simply has more debilitating symptom-formations that prevent enjoyment and active achievement in life.
As an adult, we all have fears. We all have things that we wished hadn't happened to us, and we wish we had done. But the crux of a happy life resides in being able to shape our own bad habits into something useful to us, a weapon against all the bad things that happen to us. Otherwise, those protective elements in our lives stop protecting us, and simply cut us off from the society we should enjoy. To live life well is a life with fewer fears rather than more fears, and a good life is one that is free of those fears that stop us from achieving success in our personal and public lives.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
TOW: Nature
I have been reading Walden lately, and there's one quote that sticks out in my mind, more than any other:
"Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind [...] When a man is warmed by the several modes which I have described, what does he want next? Surely not more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant, and hotter fires, and the like [...] there are some that complain most energetically and inconsolably of any, because they are, as they say, doing their duty. I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden and silver fetters."
Thus, the story of Walden begins, as an adventure into the desire to shed oneself of the fetters of society and mankind that displace us from regular, human activity.
While I won't go into detail into Walden, (for I honestly think Thoreau is a bit of a stuck up hippie) the premise of Walden is something that I think is universal in desire among most serviceable human beings: the desire to communicate with nature in such a way as to better our humanity.
I spent a really nice time up near Mount Forest in Ontario, and had a chance to fish on some very clear waters, muck about in a cave and sit under a waterfall (which has been one of my favourite experiences this year). Alas, I had to return to the big city, to find it unchanged. The people are still unfortunate, the activities here are still fairly benign, and for the most part, I would rather be in a more natural setting.
While I love my friends here, and I love the work opportunities that I have in a city like this, I definitely feel like there is something missing in my life, and I think it is the closeness of nature in my life. As someone who has spent long summers out in the so-called wild, whether in Cold Lake, Alberta, or in Saskatchewan, it makes me realize how much I miss having those natural comforts close to me in my life. Thoreau was right about one thing in regards to being part of the middle class...the heat that you experience from the societal pleasures in life often are the kind of heat that makes life unbearable, not the kind of heat that warms our hearts.
Most of my happiest memories have been in a natural setting, amongst trees, and wildlife, etc. There are still some things in modern society that I enjoy (like the ability to e-mail, or use a map connected to GPS) but more than anything I wonder if my life would be better if I lived somewhere that I didn't have most of these things.
For now, there's not much that I can do except live here. I have a job, I have a life that I've made here, and that's that, as they say. But someday, maybe I'll live somewhere a little more...natural.
"Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind [...] When a man is warmed by the several modes which I have described, what does he want next? Surely not more warmth of the same kind, as more and richer food, larger and more splendid houses, finer and more abundant clothing, more numerous incessant, and hotter fires, and the like [...] there are some that complain most energetically and inconsolably of any, because they are, as they say, doing their duty. I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden and silver fetters."
Thus, the story of Walden begins, as an adventure into the desire to shed oneself of the fetters of society and mankind that displace us from regular, human activity.
While I won't go into detail into Walden, (for I honestly think Thoreau is a bit of a stuck up hippie) the premise of Walden is something that I think is universal in desire among most serviceable human beings: the desire to communicate with nature in such a way as to better our humanity.
I spent a really nice time up near Mount Forest in Ontario, and had a chance to fish on some very clear waters, muck about in a cave and sit under a waterfall (which has been one of my favourite experiences this year). Alas, I had to return to the big city, to find it unchanged. The people are still unfortunate, the activities here are still fairly benign, and for the most part, I would rather be in a more natural setting.
While I love my friends here, and I love the work opportunities that I have in a city like this, I definitely feel like there is something missing in my life, and I think it is the closeness of nature in my life. As someone who has spent long summers out in the so-called wild, whether in Cold Lake, Alberta, or in Saskatchewan, it makes me realize how much I miss having those natural comforts close to me in my life. Thoreau was right about one thing in regards to being part of the middle class...the heat that you experience from the societal pleasures in life often are the kind of heat that makes life unbearable, not the kind of heat that warms our hearts.
Most of my happiest memories have been in a natural setting, amongst trees, and wildlife, etc. There are still some things in modern society that I enjoy (like the ability to e-mail, or use a map connected to GPS) but more than anything I wonder if my life would be better if I lived somewhere that I didn't have most of these things.
For now, there's not much that I can do except live here. I have a job, I have a life that I've made here, and that's that, as they say. But someday, maybe I'll live somewhere a little more...natural.
Monday, July 16, 2012
TOW: Creativity
You know, my new job requires me to be creative at work. And by creative, I mean really creative. I come up with themes to marketing campaigns, I do graphic design, recently I've become somewhat of a no-name Youtube star for the videos I'm creating , and I edit everything, do all the technical side of things, and tell a story with pictures, videos and words. And I do it all several times a week.
What I realize from doing this is that creativity is very much like a muscle. If you over-exert it, you'll strain or even injure you're ability to be creative. This is essentially every hipster-esque art piece that was trying so hard to be something, it went full circle and went back to sucking. Maybe it could have been really 'real' or 'moving' had it not included every artist reference to everything and its non-committal boyfriend. But, like most works of art, it's trying to say too much, trying to be too much, trying to be 'the artist' before the art. Works of art like this are strained. It's not a healthy piece of art. It's just as unpleasant as watching a bodybuilder lift his max weight. It's all grunt-face and quivering muscles that can barely hold up 350 pounds.
But if you don't exercise you're creativity, you'll lose it. You will be sluggish, unaware, unfeeling to the world around you. You become a consumer, instead of a maker. It's good to consume art and culture, but it's important to make things, to be, to live in the moment that is the 'artist's moment.' It's good to exercise your creativity. It keeps you mentally strong, awake, and feeling good about yourself.
I have been working on a couple projects that are taking a lot of my time, and some days I don't have the creativity, the will power, nor the sleep allowance that allows me to create anything of value. Because creativity requires that I have some kind of energy to give, to infuse into my activities, and when I come home tired or drained, there's not a lot to give. The creative spirit requires nearly boundless energy, drawing from that inner well that always replenishes itself as long as you save time for introspection, reflection, and productive creative activity.
Create, do, be. Unless you are satisfied with a creative piece, it doesn't matter what other people think. You have an obligation to yourself to put that energy in you, in things in the world until they make you smile, until they make you happy, and that you can see in the world, things in yourself that you've always wanted to share. Because the world we live in, the world of constant, nearly suffocating connection, demands of us that we share only the best of ourselves. The masters of our world are always the ones that are creating the content in it, the sights, the sounds the smells, the feelings. It's up to us to curate that content, and to reflect something of ourselves onto the world that can make others know us for who we really are. That's creativity.
What I realize from doing this is that creativity is very much like a muscle. If you over-exert it, you'll strain or even injure you're ability to be creative. This is essentially every hipster-esque art piece that was trying so hard to be something, it went full circle and went back to sucking. Maybe it could have been really 'real' or 'moving' had it not included every artist reference to everything and its non-committal boyfriend. But, like most works of art, it's trying to say too much, trying to be too much, trying to be 'the artist' before the art. Works of art like this are strained. It's not a healthy piece of art. It's just as unpleasant as watching a bodybuilder lift his max weight. It's all grunt-face and quivering muscles that can barely hold up 350 pounds.
But if you don't exercise you're creativity, you'll lose it. You will be sluggish, unaware, unfeeling to the world around you. You become a consumer, instead of a maker. It's good to consume art and culture, but it's important to make things, to be, to live in the moment that is the 'artist's moment.' It's good to exercise your creativity. It keeps you mentally strong, awake, and feeling good about yourself.
I have been working on a couple projects that are taking a lot of my time, and some days I don't have the creativity, the will power, nor the sleep allowance that allows me to create anything of value. Because creativity requires that I have some kind of energy to give, to infuse into my activities, and when I come home tired or drained, there's not a lot to give. The creative spirit requires nearly boundless energy, drawing from that inner well that always replenishes itself as long as you save time for introspection, reflection, and productive creative activity.
Create, do, be. Unless you are satisfied with a creative piece, it doesn't matter what other people think. You have an obligation to yourself to put that energy in you, in things in the world until they make you smile, until they make you happy, and that you can see in the world, things in yourself that you've always wanted to share. Because the world we live in, the world of constant, nearly suffocating connection, demands of us that we share only the best of ourselves. The masters of our world are always the ones that are creating the content in it, the sights, the sounds the smells, the feelings. It's up to us to curate that content, and to reflect something of ourselves onto the world that can make others know us for who we really are. That's creativity.
Monday, July 02, 2012
Sunday, July 01, 2012
TOW: Canada and Racial Diversity
Lately, I've been feeling a bit sluggish mentally. So, I've decided to do myself a favor, and started doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. It's a good exercise, and I'm forcing myself to look up every answer I don't know and research it. One of the answers on the crossword was the poem, "I, Too." by Langston Hughes. Given that it's Canada Day weekend, I thought it would be good to post a political poem.
It's sad to think that less than a hundred years ago, racial segregation existed. In 1910, Woodrow Wilson segregated the Federal Government of the United States. (Say what?) Restaurants could be shut down for serving both black and white people.
Rosa Parks, the woman who wouldn't give up her bus seat for a white person, only happened in 1955. Black people, in my grandparents time, were considered less than people. The Klu Klux clan was practically a political party.
Canada has a rich history of diversity...but this poem makes me think of all the things that still have to happen, and change so that all people can have fair opportunities in our great country. Racism, segregation of populations still exists, especially between white people and immigrants here in Toronto, as well as indigenous and Western Canadians. We have a lot to learn. I hope for change in the future.
It's sad to think that less than a hundred years ago, racial segregation existed. In 1910, Woodrow Wilson segregated the Federal Government of the United States. (Say what?) Restaurants could be shut down for serving both black and white people.
Rosa Parks, the woman who wouldn't give up her bus seat for a white person, only happened in 1955. Black people, in my grandparents time, were considered less than people. The Klu Klux clan was practically a political party.
Canada has a rich history of diversity...but this poem makes me think of all the things that still have to happen, and change so that all people can have fair opportunities in our great country. Racism, segregation of populations still exists, especially between white people and immigrants here in Toronto, as well as indigenous and Western Canadians. We have a lot to learn. I hope for change in the future.
I, Too
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
Langston Hughes
Sunday, June 24, 2012
TOW: Anchoring and Moral Judgment
I have been spending the last two weeks thinking about what anchors me, and what keeps me going, day after day. When I feel strong, I feel like I can count the number of friends I have, the beauty of the good things in my life, and all the things that keep me stable in the changing winds of fortune.
In Consolatio Philosophiae, a lot of thought was put into the value of fame, fortune, and happy middle-class living. Because of the whims of political fortune, Boethius, a famed scholar and thinker, was to be put on trial and put to death. He often sat, for a time, talking to the muses of art and poetry, in hopes that they could heal his pain. What he came to realize over time, however, is that all men and women are subject to the Wheel of Fortune:
"I know how Fortune is ever most friendly and alluring to those whom she strives to deceive, until she overwhelms them with grief beyond bearing, by deserting them when least expected. … Are you trying to stay the force of her turning wheel? Ah! dull-witted mortal, if Fortune begin to stay still, she is no longer Fortune."
We are all subject to deception of living well. We think that if we have this, we have that, we will feel 'safe' in life, only to lose those things and be brought down again. I have acquired the bad habit of counting the good things in my, the bad things in my life, comparing and contrasting. This is modern psychology's view of how to get by in life. It's a stop-gap for all of us, when, for a reason or another, we cannot engage in a higher level of moral thinking. It's not necessarily a bad thing.
For example, almost all Hollywood movies are the concept of Rota Fortunae. The hero begins with nothing, rises to prominence, and the credits close with him or her at the very top of that wheel, riding into the sunset. No one hears about how the soldier that won the hand of his lady/man got cancer a year later and died, and his/her fiancee committed suicide. That wouldn't be a good movie. (Well, maybe in Russian cinema, but not here.)
We love to see people succeed. There's something very nice about that. Human nature wants to focus on the good, it really does, even when it can only see evil, lack, want. We still want to count all the good things we have seen. Morality becomes a counting game of moral banking.
Those things we can count without cost, without measure, those things are the most valuable like love and inner peace. But even these, during our dark times, Fortune will take from us. The true measure of a man lies in those moments, in what he can perceive, in what he can push himself to be.
I have picked up the Bible lately again, and I have been doing a lot of thinking about who do I trust to represent a fair vision of myself, of who I am, who I can trust with my mirror's image. It used to be my family. As I grow older, I realize I have to be able to hold that reflection up to myself, and do my best to really wonder if I'm satisfied, if I'm a happy man, if I'm a good man.
The best lives, I think are those who have been to the lowest point in their moral scheme, those who can say that everything that made them feel they were a good person was taken away from them, and they can still continue. In other words, a foolish person who can hope beyond hope when bad things happen. This picture has been in my mind as I go to sleep over the last few weeks.
The image is of three Belgian men, standing atop the rubble of what used to be their homes. They are covered in soot, the war is over, and there's nothing to do but rebuild. And they did. And eventually Flanders became a beautiful, modern, human place again. But not without sacrifice and unnecessary death and loss. They lost everything, absolutely everything, and they rebuilt.
So, when you lose both your fortune and your happiness, there is nothing left but to rebuild. And no matter what point of life that comes to for us, we can only rebuild, and remember. And instead of counting blessings, we can only marvel at our own strength, and ability to succeed again, in the face of failure.
"I know how Fortune is ever most friendly and alluring to those whom she strives to deceive, until she overwhelms them with grief beyond bearing, by deserting them when least expected. … Are you trying to stay the force of her turning wheel? Ah! dull-witted mortal, if Fortune begin to stay still, she is no longer Fortune."
We are all subject to deception of living well. We think that if we have this, we have that, we will feel 'safe' in life, only to lose those things and be brought down again. I have acquired the bad habit of counting the good things in my, the bad things in my life, comparing and contrasting. This is modern psychology's view of how to get by in life. It's a stop-gap for all of us, when, for a reason or another, we cannot engage in a higher level of moral thinking. It's not necessarily a bad thing.
For example, almost all Hollywood movies are the concept of Rota Fortunae. The hero begins with nothing, rises to prominence, and the credits close with him or her at the very top of that wheel, riding into the sunset. No one hears about how the soldier that won the hand of his lady/man got cancer a year later and died, and his/her fiancee committed suicide. That wouldn't be a good movie. (Well, maybe in Russian cinema, but not here.)
We love to see people succeed. There's something very nice about that. Human nature wants to focus on the good, it really does, even when it can only see evil, lack, want. We still want to count all the good things we have seen. Morality becomes a counting game of moral banking.
Those things we can count without cost, without measure, those things are the most valuable like love and inner peace. But even these, during our dark times, Fortune will take from us. The true measure of a man lies in those moments, in what he can perceive, in what he can push himself to be.
I have picked up the Bible lately again, and I have been doing a lot of thinking about who do I trust to represent a fair vision of myself, of who I am, who I can trust with my mirror's image. It used to be my family. As I grow older, I realize I have to be able to hold that reflection up to myself, and do my best to really wonder if I'm satisfied, if I'm a happy man, if I'm a good man.
The best lives, I think are those who have been to the lowest point in their moral scheme, those who can say that everything that made them feel they were a good person was taken away from them, and they can still continue. In other words, a foolish person who can hope beyond hope when bad things happen. This picture has been in my mind as I go to sleep over the last few weeks.
The image is of three Belgian men, standing atop the rubble of what used to be their homes. They are covered in soot, the war is over, and there's nothing to do but rebuild. And they did. And eventually Flanders became a beautiful, modern, human place again. But not without sacrifice and unnecessary death and loss. They lost everything, absolutely everything, and they rebuilt.
So, when you lose both your fortune and your happiness, there is nothing left but to rebuild. And no matter what point of life that comes to for us, we can only rebuild, and remember. And instead of counting blessings, we can only marvel at our own strength, and ability to succeed again, in the face of failure.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
TOW: Relationships
It's funny how relationships change over time.
We always think people will be in our lives forever.
But the truth is, relationships change, people do things differently than in the past...they're often trying to figure out what makes them happiest.
In my life, as long as I'm not have a cynical moment...I think everything changes. Life goes on...children are born, friends and family members die...life goes in a cycle.
In my brighter moments, I sometimes think about the phases of life, and what sort of phase I'm currently in.
I know that the relationships in my life can't all stay the same forever. They have to evolve, or die. Behavior that repeats itself over and over is probably negative behavior. Positive relationships don't stay the same...they evolve with the people who are constantly changing, aging, healthy or sick, smart or not-so-smart, wise or unwise in their lives. Negative relationships ask us to always remain the same, and never change.
But we can't stay the same...for our relationships, and our inner selves deserve better. We all need to be able to evolve and find ways to be happy.
Life isn't worth living without great relationships. But great relationships really only exist when we evolve with those relationships.
We always think people will be in our lives forever.
But the truth is, relationships change, people do things differently than in the past...they're often trying to figure out what makes them happiest.
In my life, as long as I'm not have a cynical moment...I think everything changes. Life goes on...children are born, friends and family members die...life goes in a cycle.
In my brighter moments, I sometimes think about the phases of life, and what sort of phase I'm currently in.
I know that the relationships in my life can't all stay the same forever. They have to evolve, or die. Behavior that repeats itself over and over is probably negative behavior. Positive relationships don't stay the same...they evolve with the people who are constantly changing, aging, healthy or sick, smart or not-so-smart, wise or unwise in their lives. Negative relationships ask us to always remain the same, and never change.
But we can't stay the same...for our relationships, and our inner selves deserve better. We all need to be able to evolve and find ways to be happy.
Life isn't worth living without great relationships. But great relationships really only exist when we evolve with those relationships.
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