That was the cute card I got on a birthday years ago. But hey, I remember it, right?
Yes, today is the day, which has rarely been especially fortunate. Remember, it is early February. In Michigan. I feel blessed that is is nearly freezing out there. Some of the ice is looking a little soft. Yay! And look at a few people and events that share the day - Dan Quayle, David Brenner, The formation of the Confederate States of America, the kidnapping of Patty Hearst.
But that my birthday has not been especially lovely over the years I count as wise. Let's face it, I had nothing do with it. The day you are born is momentous, that particular day, as without it you would not exist. But marking the anniversary of it as some sort of personal holiday seems to me unwise.
For me, it has been, especially since turning 50, a moment of reflection and reckoning.
It reminds me that I really am a gift, and that this gift I have of being alive is amplified by being male and white and straight and American and educated and healthy. After all, most people lack most of those things. Talk about gifts I don't deserve.
And it reminds me to ask what I have done with this gift. The accumulating numbers tell me that this is not endless. It will go away eventually, and at my age (57) the portion ahead is definitely smaller than the portion behind. As this gift is dwindling every day, what should I do with it?
For some folks, fortunate ones like me, the answer is to form some 'bucket list' of things to do before you die. A fellow wrote a book listing the 1000 places you should see or things you should do before you die. They were adventures and stuff. He died before finishing them.
But when I ask what I should do I am asking what should I do with this gift that will outlast me? Yes, I would love to see the Great Wall, Petra, Great Zimbabwe and Angel Falls. I hope to enjoy the blessing of grandchildren and continued improvement in my piano playing. But when I die, these experiences die with me. On my birthday I am asking what I should do that will make my having lived a plus for the world, a net improvement. Every year I look back and see that I could have done more. Every year, though, I have done a little more than the year before. Gave more money, did more service, been more forgiving and needed less forgiveness. It will never be enough, but even a little more may make a difference eventually.
And heck, there's always next year!
04 February 2010
30 January 2010
Perhaps I Need Pyschic Sunscreen
I hate my therapists sometimes. Yes, I had more than one. And I do not mean physical therapists or massage therapists. I mean psychologists and such. Overall, they have been helpful, let me admit. But the price was higher than the fees actually paid. This is what I am noticing this morning.
After reading yesterday's paper on this wickedly cold morning (1 degree Fahrenheit for the record) I glanced up at the TV and saw that "Clash of The Titans" was coming on. All I needed was that title to remember, vividly, the little boy who is now my grown son, who loved that movie.
Instantly, his face and voice and demeanor came to mind, a sweetness of youth and naivete and eagerness that children bring to everything. His complete pleasure and thrill in that movie, which is about mythic Greek gods whose adventures appeal to a certain age, is something I cannot and would not forget. And yet, to remember it is to feel something more like heartbreak than happiness.
That simply seeing a title can do this to me, or seeing a picture like those above my keyboard, or smelling the wet dirt after snow melts or catching my father's face in the morning mirror, can reduce me to a puddle is all the fault of my therapists.
They told me, taught me, to be in touch with my emotions, not to bottle things up and stuff like that. Now, I cannot stop them. They are present constantly, inconveniently, embarrassingly, disturbingly, almost daily.
To live so open to feelings is like walking about naked in the sun. You get burned easily, anywhere, and often. The world radiates power and meaning, you see, because almost anything can touch you. Every day has its moments when I can feel the surge of memory, hope, dismay, longing, anger and sorrow. Sometimes, just inhaling brings a rush of aliveness, a jolt of pure being. Sometimes it brings a heavy sadness that fills my lungs like water.
It is like having a sunburn, when even a slight touch can set off waves of sensation too intense to bear. Right now, I am angry at my therapists. I do not wish to undo what they have done. I just wish they had given me some psychic sunscreen in return.
After reading yesterday's paper on this wickedly cold morning (1 degree Fahrenheit for the record) I glanced up at the TV and saw that "Clash of The Titans" was coming on. All I needed was that title to remember, vividly, the little boy who is now my grown son, who loved that movie.
Instantly, his face and voice and demeanor came to mind, a sweetness of youth and naivete and eagerness that children bring to everything. His complete pleasure and thrill in that movie, which is about mythic Greek gods whose adventures appeal to a certain age, is something I cannot and would not forget. And yet, to remember it is to feel something more like heartbreak than happiness.
That simply seeing a title can do this to me, or seeing a picture like those above my keyboard, or smelling the wet dirt after snow melts or catching my father's face in the morning mirror, can reduce me to a puddle is all the fault of my therapists.
They told me, taught me, to be in touch with my emotions, not to bottle things up and stuff like that. Now, I cannot stop them. They are present constantly, inconveniently, embarrassingly, disturbingly, almost daily.
To live so open to feelings is like walking about naked in the sun. You get burned easily, anywhere, and often. The world radiates power and meaning, you see, because almost anything can touch you. Every day has its moments when I can feel the surge of memory, hope, dismay, longing, anger and sorrow. Sometimes, just inhaling brings a rush of aliveness, a jolt of pure being. Sometimes it brings a heavy sadness that fills my lungs like water.
It is like having a sunburn, when even a slight touch can set off waves of sensation too intense to bear. Right now, I am angry at my therapists. I do not wish to undo what they have done. I just wish they had given me some psychic sunscreen in return.
26 January 2010
Speaking of Bread and Circuses...
It seems Avatar is the 'all time' money maker of movies. I hate that phrase 'all time' which supposedly means insurpassable (as in there never ever be anything as insert adjective here as insert noun here.) No one means that, as there will certainly be another. But that's not what this post is about.
It is about how this certifiable circus of a movie, a Barnumesque spectacular, has so enthralled so many people. I hope, indeed fondly do I hope and fervently do I pray, that it is more about the visual effects than the story. Having seen it, in 3D but not IMAX, I can attest to its sensual delights.
But it is as one dimensional a story as it is three dimensional in appearance. Plot was predictable, characters cardboard, dialogue cliched. In short, it needed no brain work at all.
And that's what is bothering me. But all sorts of folks (forgive me if you are one, but honestly I have not kept up with the details) seem to be enthralled by the message or inspired or threatened (the Vatican among others). As a story, it is just not that good.
To me, this was Rodney King's plaintive nostrum brought to three dimensional computer generated comic book inspired life. I am not the first to say this certainly, but my point is not how vapid it was as a story but that people can be so affected by something so listless in its essence. Are we so bewitched by technology and movies that even the most obvious of stories can appear to be meaningful if enough baubles are bangles are brought to bear?
How many people have joined a religion because the church/temple/mosque was so splendid?
Come to think, I guess it is quite possible.
It is about how this certifiable circus of a movie, a Barnumesque spectacular, has so enthralled so many people. I hope, indeed fondly do I hope and fervently do I pray, that it is more about the visual effects than the story. Having seen it, in 3D but not IMAX, I can attest to its sensual delights.
But it is as one dimensional a story as it is three dimensional in appearance. Plot was predictable, characters cardboard, dialogue cliched. In short, it needed no brain work at all.
And that's what is bothering me. But all sorts of folks (forgive me if you are one, but honestly I have not kept up with the details) seem to be enthralled by the message or inspired or threatened (the Vatican among others). As a story, it is just not that good.
To me, this was Rodney King's plaintive nostrum brought to three dimensional computer generated comic book inspired life. I am not the first to say this certainly, but my point is not how vapid it was as a story but that people can be so affected by something so listless in its essence. Are we so bewitched by technology and movies that even the most obvious of stories can appear to be meaningful if enough baubles are bangles are brought to bear?
How many people have joined a religion because the church/temple/mosque was so splendid?
Come to think, I guess it is quite possible.
23 January 2010
Demented or Possessed?
Did a lot of ironing this evening. Saturday is my Sunday, you see, and I try to put work aside. But while ironing my brain goes on walkabout, so that while I am pressing the yoke of my blue shirt I am thinking of lots of other things than ironing.
For example, the funeral I attended on Thursday evening for the husband of a colleague and friend. Packed. The little storefront church was full and then some with people like me and family. And it was a spontaneous thing, almost casual and yet overflowing with thoughts and feelings. Her associate Susan did it and boy is she good at it. I am professionally jealous as she is very new compared to me, but so gifted with presence.
Then I thought about the Supreme Court decision, see I told you this was weird, and why the Times analysis article is good but misses the point. You can read it here. Yes, it may not lead to outright corruption but it does tend to ossify the 'golden rule' to wit, whoever has the gold makes the rules.
The power of Wall Street even after its near collapse and outright demolition of the financial system, so severe that the government essentially had to ransom it back, is astonishing. I mean that a year or so later they are still saying they are the 'masters of the universe' and above all legitimate scrutiny. And they get away with it why?
Because they have so much money. Money being the mother's milk of politics since 1860 at least, and in these media saturated days the crack cocaine of politics, those who have the most to give or spend determine not who wins but what we are voting about.
Simple fact that gets overlooked - money = power. Not just fancy political power but the simple power to buy stuff. If voicing your opinion is free speech, but the air is for sale (air supposedly owned buy the people) those with more money can by more air. Their opinions get heard more. They shape if not set the agenda by what they say and what they do not. The whole tea bag movement was created by media and money. Nothing spontaneous about it as it required money and people and media to happen.
That's the problem. It does not corrupt the government. It corrupts the people. I called this decision the sign we are becoming Imperial Rome, not because of military swagger or the tyranny of the executive, but because it all happened because the people were seduced by bread and circuses.
We may not demand actual food anymore, but the circus is what politics is now, and we love it. Give us more, we say, salivating at quick quips and fast retorts, the jabs and uppercuts of words that make us cheer or wince. Blood in the sand is what we love, and we will cheer for whoever gives it to us, lifting them on our shoulders for that moment of vicarious courage.
This is what money does. It buys us cheap thrills on TV that gradually, like Gresham's law crowds out real discussion with real thinking. Until we can no more tell real debate from staged protests, just like we cannot tell real news from fake news. Hey, the fake news is more honest these days.
Ok, I gotta get my head out of the gutter and think holy thoughts for tomorrow. See ya.
For example, the funeral I attended on Thursday evening for the husband of a colleague and friend. Packed. The little storefront church was full and then some with people like me and family. And it was a spontaneous thing, almost casual and yet overflowing with thoughts and feelings. Her associate Susan did it and boy is she good at it. I am professionally jealous as she is very new compared to me, but so gifted with presence.
Then I thought about the Supreme Court decision, see I told you this was weird, and why the Times analysis article is good but misses the point. You can read it here. Yes, it may not lead to outright corruption but it does tend to ossify the 'golden rule' to wit, whoever has the gold makes the rules.
The power of Wall Street even after its near collapse and outright demolition of the financial system, so severe that the government essentially had to ransom it back, is astonishing. I mean that a year or so later they are still saying they are the 'masters of the universe' and above all legitimate scrutiny. And they get away with it why?
Because they have so much money. Money being the mother's milk of politics since 1860 at least, and in these media saturated days the crack cocaine of politics, those who have the most to give or spend determine not who wins but what we are voting about.
Simple fact that gets overlooked - money = power. Not just fancy political power but the simple power to buy stuff. If voicing your opinion is free speech, but the air is for sale (air supposedly owned buy the people) those with more money can by more air. Their opinions get heard more. They shape if not set the agenda by what they say and what they do not. The whole tea bag movement was created by media and money. Nothing spontaneous about it as it required money and people and media to happen.
That's the problem. It does not corrupt the government. It corrupts the people. I called this decision the sign we are becoming Imperial Rome, not because of military swagger or the tyranny of the executive, but because it all happened because the people were seduced by bread and circuses.
We may not demand actual food anymore, but the circus is what politics is now, and we love it. Give us more, we say, salivating at quick quips and fast retorts, the jabs and uppercuts of words that make us cheer or wince. Blood in the sand is what we love, and we will cheer for whoever gives it to us, lifting them on our shoulders for that moment of vicarious courage.
This is what money does. It buys us cheap thrills on TV that gradually, like Gresham's law crowds out real discussion with real thinking. Until we can no more tell real debate from staged protests, just like we cannot tell real news from fake news. Hey, the fake news is more honest these days.
Ok, I gotta get my head out of the gutter and think holy thoughts for tomorrow. See ya.
21 January 2010
Random Rants
In the wake of Massachusetts...
- Contempt for government is the norm. Has been since 1776.
- We do not trust institutions, only individuals, so...
- The personal really is the political, for conservatives as much as anyone.
- So we vote our gut, whether it's right or not, Which is why...
- Appearance is more powerful in politics than substance.
- When our gut fails us, though, we feel betrayed, which is why...
- Contempt for government is normal . Therefore...
- Trusting government at all is considered naive.
- That's why fear is the currency of politics.
- It is more powerful than hope in the short run, but weaker in the long run.
- But elections are short run, so hope generally loses elections.
- Therefore we are a conservative country, always have been.
- Liberals are needed only when conservatism drives us to, or over, the brink.
- But once we are saved, they are slapped back down, because...
- Contempt for government is normal.
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