I came home for the second day in a row to find that there are no parking spots in my parking lot. There are 8 apartments in this complex and 18 parking spots. I realize that some of these apartments house 2, maybe 3 people (or, hell, 5 - as when I lived with Greg and the boys), and that 1 car households are a thing of the past, but seriously? 18 parking spots. All filled. Or, rather, 16 or 17 filled and a couple of morons who couldn't park parallel to the lines if held at gun point. Anyway, I kinda lost it. Not publicly, but in my mind as usual. I just finished watching The Machinist, and for some reason, I think the film left me in a weird mood. Bleak landscapes and themes of neurosis and isolation, I suppose.
Anyway, various frustrations have been building for me for the past few months, and it feels like it's all coming to a boil. In a post on Facebook, I described the sensation as "walls of idiocy closing in on me - suffocating me". Life can be pretty roller-coastery. Sometimes it's a whip-lash inducing wooden ride that leaves you feeling bruised. Other times it's a death defying, fancy new ride that throws you for a lot of loops and dives. Other times it's a pretty tame, fun kiddie ride that's totally manageable. Hell, sometimes you're just sitting there for what feels like forever just waiting for the ride to start while some kid in the back's holding the whole shit up screaming, wanting to get out. Frequently, I can feel the tension building before it actually boils over, like the slow, upward clicking of the ride just before the fall. I know I've gotten myself into trouble and am just wondering whether it's too late to get my money back. Fortunately, the more rides I venture to endure, the better I get at stomaching the turns. I'm not quite at the point where I can carelessly throw my hands up and squeal with glee, but I'm also no longer the kid in the back frantically screaming to get off.
Rumi suggests that we have to recognize that we are already "living within the ocean", so there's no point in struggling to stay above the surface. The fact is, I'm on the ride. I won't be done until my last breath releases that big, metal harness from my shoulders and waste (please excuse the ridiculous extension of this metaphor). I can choose to panic; I can choose to feel stuck; I can also choose to accept my reality, throw my hands up and trust the ride. What's the worst I can encounter? Death? Well, yeah, that's an inevitable part of this ride - one of many parts over which I have no control.
After flipping my internal lid over having to park in the street yet again, I jotted down a list of my recent frustrations. I figured I could manage them better if I actually saw them on paper. I immediately marked off the ones I could clearly do nothing about or that needn't necessarily even concern me personally. That only rid me of a couple. I also immediately recognized that they were all external issues, except the final one: I feel stuck. So how does one go about "unslumping" oneself, as Dr. Seuss says? I took another look at the list and realized, with a little shift in perspective, that none of them need cause me much grief. You see, I have a tendency to give myself a heart attack over the behavior of others - other drivers, pedestrians, students, the entire department that employs me, etc. I think because I am forced to interact with these people on a daily basis, I cannot avoid being affected my their idiocy, inefficiency or intolerance. It may seem obvious that this is not the case, but when mindlessly running on automatic pilot, that reality never occurs to me. My immediate response to the idea of "acceptance" is that I am allowing such travesties to perpetuate. I am passively resigning to them and refusing to fight for what is good and right. What I am overlooking, however, is that the behavior of others is not within my realm of control. I cannot force my students to give a shit about their education, about their minds, about their worth as human beings. I can try to inspire them, to set an example, but I cannot affect them without their consent. I cannot force other drivers on the road to be more mindful, courteous and safe, nor can I force them to live their off-road lives in the same way.
In a nutshell, my default perception seems to be that "idiots shouldn't exist", "impediments shouldn't exist", "if everyone were more gracious and graceful, giving a shit about themselves and each other, communism wouldn't have failed". Apparently, I didn't lose all sense of idealism after the invasion of Iraq, as I thought I did. Somehow, it never occurs to me in these moments that the world is not now, nor ever was, comprised of brilliant, mindful communists with a high level of self-worth. Hell, if I don't fit this description, why should anyone else? The fact is, there are idiots in the world. Lots of them. There are lots of assholes, too. There are even some bigots and a sprinkling of sociopaths. That is the reality in which we all live. "Shoulds" are ultimately irrelevant. I am intrinsically aware of this. This is a realization I come to often. Yet I inevitably end up on that slow, clicking ascent toward doom wondering how I got here at least once a year, when all I have to do is see the ride for what it is, throw my hands up and trust my ability to take that fall with grace for my own sake and maybe even as a lesson for that screaming kid in the back.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Physiological versus the Spiritual Dimensions of Growth
A crazed soccer mom keyed my car today. I've never had my car keyed before, and it made me sad that it happened to my shiny new car instead of the dull old one. While discussing the incident with a friend, he made a rather insightful statement. He said, and I paraphrase, Just because someone looks like an adult doesn't mean he/she actually is one. This seems obvious, especially considering the circumstances, but I had never really thought about this concept deeply.
When I worked at Planned Parenthood, I would see tens of women a day - women of all different ages and backgrounds. Occasionally, I would see women whose outside age clearly did not match their inside age. And this goes beyond the all too common moronic 19-23-year-olds who simply haven't been paying attention for the past 19-23 years. I remember a 15-year-old of whom I was envious. She seemed so confident, self-assured and at ease with herself and the world around her. She knew all about her body and reproductive health - had it all covered. She was fully responsible for her functioning existence on this planet. I was awestruck. Then there was the occasional 40-year-old who didn't know how pregnancy and/or STDs worked, and worse, didn't care.
So anyway, my friend's comment made me think about what aging actually is. We live in a culture that is very physically ageist. Commercials and ads bombard our televisions and magazines with anti-aging creams and make-up. Even teeth-whitening products use age as a selling point...like my teeth weren't yellow when I was twelve! Of what are they trying to convince us? If we can stave off wrinkles, we can stave off death? All physical signs of aging reveal is that our bodies are wearing out, and eventually they will break down entirely never to restart. This is life. This is how it works.
But what of the spiritual dimension of aging? What does it mean to age spiritually? Buddhists, Hindus and various other world religions believe that spiritual aging, or rather development, occurs over the course of many lifetimes, not just one. The metaphors we use to discuss spiritual aging indicate an upward movement, a progression, a completion. We speak of development and of growth. When we speak of physical aging, metaphors imply a downward movement or decay. Thus it only makes sense that, if souls exist, they should ascend (to heaven, another life, nirvana, etc.) as our bodies are interred.
So what constitutes someone's actual age? The number of years they've been on the planet utilizing their current body? How many wrinkles they have on their face or age spots on their hands? Or is it what they've learned, whether they've been paying attention, whether they and the world around them have benefited from the lessons they've mastered? What happens when you meet a woman with a leathery complexion and "mom jeans" complete with a lower-abdominal pooch who says she's 27? What happens when you cross paths with a road-rager who stalks you through a parking lot, screaming at you out of her driver window, then keys your car as soon as you're out of sight for accidentally cutting her off due to her own poor driving skills?
When we think of words like "adult" or "grown-up", certain concepts accompany these terms. There is functional maturity: living on one's own, paying bills, mortgages, taking out life insurance policies, birthing smaller versions of oneself, buying a car, etc. Then there's emotional/intellectual maturity (or whatever you want to call it): understanding personal responsibility, learning how to maneuver gracefully through a world filled with lots of very different people, dealing gracefully with anger and frustration, learning what it really means to love, etc. The latter type of maturity is obviously much more challenging than the former. Some people, people who are perpetually taken care of by the men in their lives or by Mommy and Daddy, and then Mommy and Daddy's money when Mommy and Daddy die, never achieve either state of maturity. Many more people never achieve the latter. Can they be considered "adults"? "Grown-ups"? Some may say, if they walk like ducks and talk like ducks...But is this truly the case? Or are they just children in grown-up suits?
A friend and colleague of mine counts her students absent when they are physically in class but mentally elsewhere. If they are in their seats but texting their friends, sleeping or listening to their Ipods, they are counted absent...because, figuratively speaking, they are. So if a person has physically aged but remained figuratively absent his/her entire life, has this person truly lived, truly aged, truly grown up? We speak of legally mentally challenged individuals as having the brain of, say, a 6-year-old. But aren't there a lot of "adults" out there with the emotional maturity of a 6-year-old? My contention is that you are not only as old as you feel, but you are also as old as you act on a consistent basis. If you've been on the planet for 37 years and haven't learned a damn thing, you can hardly be called a 37-year-old. Nonetheless, since you have technically been on the planet for 37 years, you can and should be held accountable for those 37 years. Students who accumulate an outrageous number of absences, physically or figuratively, fail their classes. They are held accountable. A physical 37-year-old who is 4 on the inside should nevertheless be held accountable. And for some strange reason, I have faith that karma will do the trick.
When I worked at Planned Parenthood, I would see tens of women a day - women of all different ages and backgrounds. Occasionally, I would see women whose outside age clearly did not match their inside age. And this goes beyond the all too common moronic 19-23-year-olds who simply haven't been paying attention for the past 19-23 years. I remember a 15-year-old of whom I was envious. She seemed so confident, self-assured and at ease with herself and the world around her. She knew all about her body and reproductive health - had it all covered. She was fully responsible for her functioning existence on this planet. I was awestruck. Then there was the occasional 40-year-old who didn't know how pregnancy and/or STDs worked, and worse, didn't care.
So anyway, my friend's comment made me think about what aging actually is. We live in a culture that is very physically ageist. Commercials and ads bombard our televisions and magazines with anti-aging creams and make-up. Even teeth-whitening products use age as a selling point...like my teeth weren't yellow when I was twelve! Of what are they trying to convince us? If we can stave off wrinkles, we can stave off death? All physical signs of aging reveal is that our bodies are wearing out, and eventually they will break down entirely never to restart. This is life. This is how it works.
But what of the spiritual dimension of aging? What does it mean to age spiritually? Buddhists, Hindus and various other world religions believe that spiritual aging, or rather development, occurs over the course of many lifetimes, not just one. The metaphors we use to discuss spiritual aging indicate an upward movement, a progression, a completion. We speak of development and of growth. When we speak of physical aging, metaphors imply a downward movement or decay. Thus it only makes sense that, if souls exist, they should ascend (to heaven, another life, nirvana, etc.) as our bodies are interred.
So what constitutes someone's actual age? The number of years they've been on the planet utilizing their current body? How many wrinkles they have on their face or age spots on their hands? Or is it what they've learned, whether they've been paying attention, whether they and the world around them have benefited from the lessons they've mastered? What happens when you meet a woman with a leathery complexion and "mom jeans" complete with a lower-abdominal pooch who says she's 27? What happens when you cross paths with a road-rager who stalks you through a parking lot, screaming at you out of her driver window, then keys your car as soon as you're out of sight for accidentally cutting her off due to her own poor driving skills?
When we think of words like "adult" or "grown-up", certain concepts accompany these terms. There is functional maturity: living on one's own, paying bills, mortgages, taking out life insurance policies, birthing smaller versions of oneself, buying a car, etc. Then there's emotional/intellectual maturity (or whatever you want to call it): understanding personal responsibility, learning how to maneuver gracefully through a world filled with lots of very different people, dealing gracefully with anger and frustration, learning what it really means to love, etc. The latter type of maturity is obviously much more challenging than the former. Some people, people who are perpetually taken care of by the men in their lives or by Mommy and Daddy, and then Mommy and Daddy's money when Mommy and Daddy die, never achieve either state of maturity. Many more people never achieve the latter. Can they be considered "adults"? "Grown-ups"? Some may say, if they walk like ducks and talk like ducks...But is this truly the case? Or are they just children in grown-up suits?
A friend and colleague of mine counts her students absent when they are physically in class but mentally elsewhere. If they are in their seats but texting their friends, sleeping or listening to their Ipods, they are counted absent...because, figuratively speaking, they are. So if a person has physically aged but remained figuratively absent his/her entire life, has this person truly lived, truly aged, truly grown up? We speak of legally mentally challenged individuals as having the brain of, say, a 6-year-old. But aren't there a lot of "adults" out there with the emotional maturity of a 6-year-old? My contention is that you are not only as old as you feel, but you are also as old as you act on a consistent basis. If you've been on the planet for 37 years and haven't learned a damn thing, you can hardly be called a 37-year-old. Nonetheless, since you have technically been on the planet for 37 years, you can and should be held accountable for those 37 years. Students who accumulate an outrageous number of absences, physically or figuratively, fail their classes. They are held accountable. A physical 37-year-old who is 4 on the inside should nevertheless be held accountable. And for some strange reason, I have faith that karma will do the trick.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Dr. Seuss: Everyone's Favorite Liberal
So I get in the same globalization argument with my father every time I spend more than 5 or 6 days straight with him. This last time, at Christmas, it was about Walmart. Anyway, so I noticed something on a friend's post on Facebook that made me start thinking about this issue. This is a perfect example for my students about what should comprise an observation essay; note to self. It mentioned Egypt's independence from Great Britain. Obviously, I started thinking about colonization. The analogy I posted is that colonization/globalization is like me going over to a friend's place and telling her that her house is now mine. When she resists, I just cut off her water supply or destroy her indoor plumbing until she's forced to leave.
I think it's good to create analogies that suggest a microcosmic situation that mirrors common macrocosmic situations. It allows us to see the global world for what it really is, in terms that hit closer to home. It also allows us to reflect upon the ridiculous nature of global politics. Obviously, it's not funny on a practical level, but conceptually, I can't help but chuckle. Why on earth would such a microcosmic situation be utterly reprehensible, but the same situation on a global scale is perfectly fine and "business as usual"? It's like murder being morally reprehensible and illegal, but war being perfectly reasonable and even necessary in the name of "Freedom" (money, oil, other such resources gained, child labor, etc.). Of course, the reason no one questions this is the same reason many of my students can't write observation essays. As long as they have their Walmart-bought toys assembled in Taiwan by 7-year-old shoeless and malnourished children, what more is there to think about? It ain't their house being invaded. Then, I must admit my own hypocrisy. Walmart's not the only bad guy. Our entire culture is founded upon this globalized economy. Hell, this computer was probably built in Taiwan. Nonetheless, there's something to be said for awareness. It's a step.
Returning to the argument between my father and me, his stand - and I don't mind calling it an uneducated one - is the same argument that has been used to indoctrinate citizens since the founding of the East India Company. "They want us there! They love us! We make their lives better! If it weren't for us, they'd have nothing!" This is the argument fabricated by colonizing forces to convince a citizenry that benefited from Indian wares that what was happening was not a moral and ethical atrocity. Because this citizenry DID benefit regarding material wealth and well being, they had no problem buying the argument hook, line and sinker. The Indians were not made SLAVES; their lives were improved because they got to WORK! With the rise of the middle class, work was the new black. Aristocracy was soooo five minutes ago.
Now, globalization is the new colonization. Rather than stealing the house, we're now just robbing it of its wealth. Rather than generously bestowing the prospect of work on the "little people" of the world, we are giving them MONEY - a whole whopping 18 cents an hour! More importantly, we're generously offering them an invite to the world of capitalism. It's not so much that they would have nothing without us; they would just be subsisting, living off of THEIR land, and providing for themselves and their families. Sure, they'd be "poor" comparatively, but they'd be autonomous. They'd be working for themselves. They would set the standards for working conditions. They wouldn't be dependent. They wouldn't be consumers. They wouldn't be abused. There's nothing wrong with being "poor" compared to the Western world. When wealth means dying of obesity, who needs it? After all, it's like Dr. Seuss said: "Nobody needs Thneeds."
I think it's good to create analogies that suggest a microcosmic situation that mirrors common macrocosmic situations. It allows us to see the global world for what it really is, in terms that hit closer to home. It also allows us to reflect upon the ridiculous nature of global politics. Obviously, it's not funny on a practical level, but conceptually, I can't help but chuckle. Why on earth would such a microcosmic situation be utterly reprehensible, but the same situation on a global scale is perfectly fine and "business as usual"? It's like murder being morally reprehensible and illegal, but war being perfectly reasonable and even necessary in the name of "Freedom" (money, oil, other such resources gained, child labor, etc.). Of course, the reason no one questions this is the same reason many of my students can't write observation essays. As long as they have their Walmart-bought toys assembled in Taiwan by 7-year-old shoeless and malnourished children, what more is there to think about? It ain't their house being invaded. Then, I must admit my own hypocrisy. Walmart's not the only bad guy. Our entire culture is founded upon this globalized economy. Hell, this computer was probably built in Taiwan. Nonetheless, there's something to be said for awareness. It's a step.
Returning to the argument between my father and me, his stand - and I don't mind calling it an uneducated one - is the same argument that has been used to indoctrinate citizens since the founding of the East India Company. "They want us there! They love us! We make their lives better! If it weren't for us, they'd have nothing!" This is the argument fabricated by colonizing forces to convince a citizenry that benefited from Indian wares that what was happening was not a moral and ethical atrocity. Because this citizenry DID benefit regarding material wealth and well being, they had no problem buying the argument hook, line and sinker. The Indians were not made SLAVES; their lives were improved because they got to WORK! With the rise of the middle class, work was the new black. Aristocracy was soooo five minutes ago.
Now, globalization is the new colonization. Rather than stealing the house, we're now just robbing it of its wealth. Rather than generously bestowing the prospect of work on the "little people" of the world, we are giving them MONEY - a whole whopping 18 cents an hour! More importantly, we're generously offering them an invite to the world of capitalism. It's not so much that they would have nothing without us; they would just be subsisting, living off of THEIR land, and providing for themselves and their families. Sure, they'd be "poor" comparatively, but they'd be autonomous. They'd be working for themselves. They would set the standards for working conditions. They wouldn't be dependent. They wouldn't be consumers. They wouldn't be abused. There's nothing wrong with being "poor" compared to the Western world. When wealth means dying of obesity, who needs it? After all, it's like Dr. Seuss said: "Nobody needs Thneeds."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Cultural Phenomenon
So I've had some ideas loosely floating around in my head for, oh, a decade, maybe 15 years or so. This seems to be a good place for me to loose my frustrations, so I thought I'd try to consolidate these floaters. A lot of this may seem horrendously obvious, but I feel that writing it down helps me to make sense of things a bit better, if sense is possible. Here goes nothin'.
I think Christianity, consumerism and corporate media together play a heavy hand in the creation of our culture as a whole. Likely the heaviest by far. I have been vexed and often appalled by blatant displays of a complete and utter lack of personal responsibility by those around me. The daily conflicts of driving in traffic, trying to find parking spots, grading student papers, etc. act as a constant reminder. This is a theme I have touched upon in various other blog entries, but I am trying to consolidate them here.
My students can't think critically. They don't know how to analyze anything. A text, a photo, a T-shirt or bumper sticker. Nothing. Of course some of them can - likely products of both good nature and nurture. With most, however, I feel that I'm beating my head against a wall. Their theses are broad and unargumentative. They summarize and generalize. They dance across the surface seemingly unaware that there exists a vital and amazing depth waiting to be pursued. For some it's sheer laziness. For others it's sheer ignorance. My question is how one achieves the age of 18, 19 or 20 never having analyzed anything, critically thought about a thing in their entire lives such that they don't even know how to begin. I can show them examples, good and bad. I can give them the definition of "analysis". I can walk through an example analysis with them. I can answer the same question 17 times in 17 different ways and yet some of their final papers look little different than their first. I believe that this is because, for 18, 19, 20 years they have been indoctrinated to tape their own eyes shut, plug their own ears and open their gaping mouths ready for whatever the spoon may bring. Christianity teaches them to do this. Television teaches them to do this. Nearly everything they see and hear teaches them to do this. And since Mommy and Daddy are letting Elmo raise their children, no one is teaching them anything different. By the time I get them, their brains are mush and it's my job to reconnect the neurons?! Right.
Aside from poor performances, these same students expect to receive good grades. I tell them to analyze and they summarize. I tell them to be specific and they generalize. I tell them to create an argument and they skirt any real subject altogether. Yet when they get a D in the class, it's my fault. When they fail to complete half of the coursework thereby failing the class, it's my fault. I lack "compassion". How dare I? Their work is apparently anyone's responsibility but their own. It's Mommy and Daddy's responsibility. It's mine. It's the university's. God forbid they be held accountable for their lives.
When I get on the highway, there's a guy driving 45 mph in the left lane. To get around him, another guy goes 20 mph over the speed limit weaving in and out of traffic having apparently forgotten that he has a turn signal while throwing Styrofoam Sonic cups out his truck window. He owns this bitch. We're all his minions. The slowy in the left lane also owns this bitch. But he doesn't know about any minions. When Mr. Weavy ends up parking somewhere, he parks in 2 spots simultaneously at the very front of the parking lot. He doesn't want to walk too far. That would take effort. But he also doesn't want anyone scratching his ride. He also owns this parking lot.
When the U.S. Military Industrial Complex decides they need something another nation has (its lunch money, you know, whatever), they act just like Mr. Weavy on the highway. Throwing their dicks around the planet like they own this bitch - destroying the natural environment, destroying entire cities and nations, displacing peoples, destroying lives. The citizens at home, my students who never acquired critical thinking skills, support this activity entirely. After all, it's all done in the name of Freedom - a word people love to use yet never analyze.
So what is the foundation of this cultural trend - this live and let die, walking around in a me-bubble oblivion, it's anyone's fault but mine cultural phenomenon? I believe it is a combination of an economic system that intentionally sustains such attitudes utilizing a 2000-year-old religion that conveniently lends itself to the same attitudes. When the humans who comprise this culture accomplish something, "God" did it. A student of mine recently wrote that her 11-year-old self somehow managing to operate a tractor was the work of "God". I say way to go 11-year-old you! This little human figures out how to operate a complicated piece of machinery (designed and manufactured by humans)...and God did it. How's that for a pat on the back? On the flipside, when these same humans fuck up their lives, they are told to remedy the mess my "giving their pain and suffering to God". How about looking in the mirror, owning your mistakes and remedying them yourself? God didn't fuck up your life, and God's not going to clean up your mess. But I'm sure if these people somehow scramble their way out of their respective shit holes, they'll be thanking God.
Consumerist agendas function in much the same way. The goblins in "Goblin Market" say "Come buy, come buy, come buy." Indulge now, pay later. That two-week-old PC's a dinosaur! That blouse is sooo 2009. Gorge yourself on the smorgasbord of wealth we have acquired by the broken backs of the rest of the world and don't even begin to imagine the consequences. There are no consequences with guns like these.
All of these underlying, unanalyzed, spoon-fed and deeply ingrained attitudes stem from the very building blocks of our culture: our economy and our religion. These basic infrastructures are so enmeshed in our mentality that it is nearly impossible for most people to even recognize them let alone alter or abandon them. Until we disentangle ourselves from this web and are able to witness it for what it is, nothing will change. Needless to say, I doubt much of anything ever will. I'm not even sure how I intend to disentangle myself despite my ability see and analyze the problem. I could become an executor. No. I could tune in, turn on and drop out. No. That obviously didn't work. I suppose all I can do now is look to those I admire as particles of harmony in a mess of individualistic bumper-cars for the clarity and wisdom to rise above the tumult.
I think Christianity, consumerism and corporate media together play a heavy hand in the creation of our culture as a whole. Likely the heaviest by far. I have been vexed and often appalled by blatant displays of a complete and utter lack of personal responsibility by those around me. The daily conflicts of driving in traffic, trying to find parking spots, grading student papers, etc. act as a constant reminder. This is a theme I have touched upon in various other blog entries, but I am trying to consolidate them here.
My students can't think critically. They don't know how to analyze anything. A text, a photo, a T-shirt or bumper sticker. Nothing. Of course some of them can - likely products of both good nature and nurture. With most, however, I feel that I'm beating my head against a wall. Their theses are broad and unargumentative. They summarize and generalize. They dance across the surface seemingly unaware that there exists a vital and amazing depth waiting to be pursued. For some it's sheer laziness. For others it's sheer ignorance. My question is how one achieves the age of 18, 19 or 20 never having analyzed anything, critically thought about a thing in their entire lives such that they don't even know how to begin. I can show them examples, good and bad. I can give them the definition of "analysis". I can walk through an example analysis with them. I can answer the same question 17 times in 17 different ways and yet some of their final papers look little different than their first. I believe that this is because, for 18, 19, 20 years they have been indoctrinated to tape their own eyes shut, plug their own ears and open their gaping mouths ready for whatever the spoon may bring. Christianity teaches them to do this. Television teaches them to do this. Nearly everything they see and hear teaches them to do this. And since Mommy and Daddy are letting Elmo raise their children, no one is teaching them anything different. By the time I get them, their brains are mush and it's my job to reconnect the neurons?! Right.
Aside from poor performances, these same students expect to receive good grades. I tell them to analyze and they summarize. I tell them to be specific and they generalize. I tell them to create an argument and they skirt any real subject altogether. Yet when they get a D in the class, it's my fault. When they fail to complete half of the coursework thereby failing the class, it's my fault. I lack "compassion". How dare I? Their work is apparently anyone's responsibility but their own. It's Mommy and Daddy's responsibility. It's mine. It's the university's. God forbid they be held accountable for their lives.
When I get on the highway, there's a guy driving 45 mph in the left lane. To get around him, another guy goes 20 mph over the speed limit weaving in and out of traffic having apparently forgotten that he has a turn signal while throwing Styrofoam Sonic cups out his truck window. He owns this bitch. We're all his minions. The slowy in the left lane also owns this bitch. But he doesn't know about any minions. When Mr. Weavy ends up parking somewhere, he parks in 2 spots simultaneously at the very front of the parking lot. He doesn't want to walk too far. That would take effort. But he also doesn't want anyone scratching his ride. He also owns this parking lot.
When the U.S. Military Industrial Complex decides they need something another nation has (its lunch money, you know, whatever), they act just like Mr. Weavy on the highway. Throwing their dicks around the planet like they own this bitch - destroying the natural environment, destroying entire cities and nations, displacing peoples, destroying lives. The citizens at home, my students who never acquired critical thinking skills, support this activity entirely. After all, it's all done in the name of Freedom - a word people love to use yet never analyze.
So what is the foundation of this cultural trend - this live and let die, walking around in a me-bubble oblivion, it's anyone's fault but mine cultural phenomenon? I believe it is a combination of an economic system that intentionally sustains such attitudes utilizing a 2000-year-old religion that conveniently lends itself to the same attitudes. When the humans who comprise this culture accomplish something, "God" did it. A student of mine recently wrote that her 11-year-old self somehow managing to operate a tractor was the work of "God". I say way to go 11-year-old you! This little human figures out how to operate a complicated piece of machinery (designed and manufactured by humans)...and God did it. How's that for a pat on the back? On the flipside, when these same humans fuck up their lives, they are told to remedy the mess my "giving their pain and suffering to God". How about looking in the mirror, owning your mistakes and remedying them yourself? God didn't fuck up your life, and God's not going to clean up your mess. But I'm sure if these people somehow scramble their way out of their respective shit holes, they'll be thanking God.
Consumerist agendas function in much the same way. The goblins in "Goblin Market" say "Come buy, come buy, come buy." Indulge now, pay later. That two-week-old PC's a dinosaur! That blouse is sooo 2009. Gorge yourself on the smorgasbord of wealth we have acquired by the broken backs of the rest of the world and don't even begin to imagine the consequences. There are no consequences with guns like these.
All of these underlying, unanalyzed, spoon-fed and deeply ingrained attitudes stem from the very building blocks of our culture: our economy and our religion. These basic infrastructures are so enmeshed in our mentality that it is nearly impossible for most people to even recognize them let alone alter or abandon them. Until we disentangle ourselves from this web and are able to witness it for what it is, nothing will change. Needless to say, I doubt much of anything ever will. I'm not even sure how I intend to disentangle myself despite my ability see and analyze the problem. I could become an executor. No. I could tune in, turn on and drop out. No. That obviously didn't work. I suppose all I can do now is look to those I admire as particles of harmony in a mess of individualistic bumper-cars for the clarity and wisdom to rise above the tumult.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Most Significant Dreams
Disclaimer: Please excuse the rampant self-involvement of the following post. It is more a record for myself than for others. Nonetheless, if it inspires others to pay attention to and analyze their dreams, it has done its job. I cannot emphasize enough how beneficial dream awareness can be...or at least it has been for me.
1. Age 6, 1988:
I am in the gameroom my family recently converted from what used to be the garage of my childhood home. I am tied to a chair being held captive by a road-runner. This is not the cartoon road-runner, but a real road-runner. However, it is very vibrantly colored – all of the colors of the rainbow. Though it is understood in the dream that the road-runner is the one holding me captive, the road-runner itself sits inside a cage that is attached to the wall. Eventually, I free myself from my restraints and walk toward the sliding-glass door to look out into the backyard. My parents are outside doing yard work. I see my father put his index finger to the tip of his nose, and when he pulls his finger away, the tip of his nose detaches from the rest of his nose and remains attached to his index finger. I freak out, run outside and tell my mother what I saw: “Dad took his nose off!” My mother turns to my father and says, “Hon, could you not take your nose off in front of the kids; they can’t do it yet.” I’m horrified to learn that I am of a breed of monsters. I awake and run into my parents’ room, wake my mother and tell her my dream, possibly crying, definitely freaking out.
2. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:
I am on the deck outside and in the back of the house in which I grew up (the same one as above). There is a dirty, white curtain hanging from the sky. It is tattered and torn up. To the left is a palm plant (like the ones that grew downstairs under the deck) potted, but dried up, brown and dying. A strong wind picks up and blows through the torn curtain and the dried leaves of the palm plant. It is God speaking to me. Surprisingly, considering I do not believe in “God”, or at least the standard American conception of “God”, I become overwhelmed with emotion. I gasp and cannot breathe as if someone has punched me in the stomach, and I begin to tear up. I awaken and am frustrated that I cannot remember what God said to me, then later realize that what was said was not said in English or any human language that can be understood verbally.
3. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:
This dream, I believe, occurred after the one just above, but I am not sure. They occurred, I believe, within about 6 months of each other; a year at the most. I am lying on the ground just in front of the garage behind the house in which I grew up (same house). This is the garage built to replace the one which was converted into a gameroom. I am wrapped in a white curtain hanging from the sky. It is long and wrapped around my body several times, with my arms down at my sides. I am wrapped as a corpse is wrapped for illegal disposal. There is a serial rapist and murderer prowling the neighborhood. I do not see him, but I know that he is inside my house. He is going to rape and kill my mother and sister and when he is done, he is going to come after me. I feel completely helpless and terrified. I want desperately to help my mother and sister and to save myself, but I can do nothing but lie immobile wrapped in the curtain.
Looking up “curtains” in a dream dictionary, I found that curtains represent hiding or protection. This seems obvious. It was only after discovering this and interpreting the second of the adult dreams that I understood what God had said to me in the first of the adult dreams. Thus, a running theme through all of these dreams is captivity or immobilization. My natural inclination is to protect myself, my vulnerability and sensitivity (via curtains), but that protection is what immobilizes me and keeps me from progressing and functioning successfully in life. The first dream (childhood) indicates the reason I feel the need to protect myself. I fear that I am a monstrosity and want to “hide” that from others; protect myself from being judged or treated harshly because of it. I’ve carried this initial fear throughout my life which results in dreams set in my childhood home. The first of the adult dreams, however, presents the curtain as tattered and torn. What God says to me, therefore, is that only after I destroy such curtains will I be able to function to the best of my ability and live freely.
*In the childhood dream, the road-runner is held captive while holding me captive. The road-runner is a representation of myself. This is not wholly negative. The road-runner is vibrantly colorful, which is why it must be caged. But it cages itself as it binds me. It is entirely within the road-runner’s ability to free itself; to perceive its vibrancy not as flaw but as a strength.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Addendum to "Gaming"
I feel kind of dirty about the last post, so I thought I'd attach, or provide rather, an addendum. My mother, a woman I admire greatly, gave me a pretty sound piece of advice. She said, no matter what the situation, be kind to everyone. Even if you disagree with the person. Even if you feel hurt or disrespected. Do what's right/best for you...you don't have to bow down to the interests of others, but always be kind.
I like this. I like the word kind. It means so much more than the word "nice" or "polite" or even "friendly". Kindness is a manifestation of the soul. There is truth and sincerity in it. I think that this is what Gandhi meant when he said you have to be the change you want to see in the world. You've got to have conviction, to stand up for yourself and your cause, but part of that cause, I believe, should always be to imbue the world around you with love and compassion.
I am not saying that I am a master of this - or even good at it a lot of the time, but when everything else is stripped away, this balancing act, this spiritual ecosystem remains. If I fight fire with fire, if I allow those who wish to tear me down to succeed, I am forfeiting my opportunity to maintain this delicate equilibrium. The scale is tipped on the side of aggression and intimidation. If, however, I choose to react with compassion, equilibrium is reestablished.
I'm not saying that I'm all that important on a cosmic scale, but then we are all a part of it. You know, "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls..."
In conclusion, always remember that it's always funny to hug a grumpy person...and it's good for your karma too!
P.S. Great quote from the Dalai Lama concerning his generous attitude toward Chinese soldiers in Tibet: They've taken everything from us; should we allow them to take our minds too?
I like this. I like the word kind. It means so much more than the word "nice" or "polite" or even "friendly". Kindness is a manifestation of the soul. There is truth and sincerity in it. I think that this is what Gandhi meant when he said you have to be the change you want to see in the world. You've got to have conviction, to stand up for yourself and your cause, but part of that cause, I believe, should always be to imbue the world around you with love and compassion.
I am not saying that I am a master of this - or even good at it a lot of the time, but when everything else is stripped away, this balancing act, this spiritual ecosystem remains. If I fight fire with fire, if I allow those who wish to tear me down to succeed, I am forfeiting my opportunity to maintain this delicate equilibrium. The scale is tipped on the side of aggression and intimidation. If, however, I choose to react with compassion, equilibrium is reestablished.
I'm not saying that I'm all that important on a cosmic scale, but then we are all a part of it. You know, "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls..."
In conclusion, always remember that it's always funny to hug a grumpy person...and it's good for your karma too!
P.S. Great quote from the Dalai Lama concerning his generous attitude toward Chinese soldiers in Tibet: They've taken everything from us; should we allow them to take our minds too?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Gaming
Paris Hilton once said, "Tell others what they want to hear, then do whatever you want." Excellent advice really. I keep forgetting that much of life, especially regarding social interactions, is a game. I'm not sure why this is the case. I hate playing games. I have been known to play games by accident - games like the ever-popular "passive aggression". I'm not proud of this. I'm not sure if people are conscious of the games they play. It seems that, to some extent, they must be. I personally prefer to be as honest and straightforward as possible. It cuts out a lot of bullshit. I'm the type of person who will show up at your garden party solely to discuss politics, religion and human sexuality. Fuck the weather and I don't know anything about the Dodgers. Why the hell would I be talking to someone if I didn't want to get to know him? I want to know what you think God is and what your deepest fears are. Only then do I know I can trust you.
But, as I've always said, I think I'm probably an alien. Most humans like garden parties and games. Several of the blog posts I've made discuss academic departmental politics. This shit's been plaguing me lately for various reasons...I think mainly due to a departmental split that I and few others are straddling. But departmental politics, like all politics, is a game. Politics is the game of all games. All of the words that go along with it - bureaucracy, diplomacy - connote this. This is something that may be obvious to many, but I'm just awkward enough to have missed it. Or forgotten it. I have a difficult time being insincere. It makes me feel dirty. But the fact is, when the situation one finds oneself in is set up, inherently, as a game...all one can do is play the game. All players are insincere. All actions are moves on a gameboard. Dr. Smeld is playing the game. Dr. Scalejake is playing the game. Dr. Graspawoman is playing the game. Even Haj and Scott are playing the game.
The only way I can function in a disagreeable sociopolitical environment (one in which leaving is not an option) is to discover others' interests, pretend that my interests coincide with theirs to create the pleasantest of possible rapports and then, when they're not looking, act in what I believe to be everyone's best interest.
I have a tendency to internalize things, but some things eat away at our souls. Games are intended to be superficial. That is why global politics becomes so dangerous. When we start gambling with people's lives, superficiality flies out the window (unless you're a Republican :)). Fortunately, at this point I'm only dealing with departmental politics. And if Smeld, Scalejake and Graspawoman aren't taking the B.S. home with them, then neither will I.
But, as I've always said, I think I'm probably an alien. Most humans like garden parties and games. Several of the blog posts I've made discuss academic departmental politics. This shit's been plaguing me lately for various reasons...I think mainly due to a departmental split that I and few others are straddling. But departmental politics, like all politics, is a game. Politics is the game of all games. All of the words that go along with it - bureaucracy, diplomacy - connote this. This is something that may be obvious to many, but I'm just awkward enough to have missed it. Or forgotten it. I have a difficult time being insincere. It makes me feel dirty. But the fact is, when the situation one finds oneself in is set up, inherently, as a game...all one can do is play the game. All players are insincere. All actions are moves on a gameboard. Dr. Smeld is playing the game. Dr. Scalejake is playing the game. Dr. Graspawoman is playing the game. Even Haj and Scott are playing the game.
The only way I can function in a disagreeable sociopolitical environment (one in which leaving is not an option) is to discover others' interests, pretend that my interests coincide with theirs to create the pleasantest of possible rapports and then, when they're not looking, act in what I believe to be everyone's best interest.
I have a tendency to internalize things, but some things eat away at our souls. Games are intended to be superficial. That is why global politics becomes so dangerous. When we start gambling with people's lives, superficiality flies out the window (unless you're a Republican :)). Fortunately, at this point I'm only dealing with departmental politics. And if Smeld, Scalejake and Graspawoman aren't taking the B.S. home with them, then neither will I.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
