http://www.dailyliked.net/backwards-brain-bicycle/.
I watched this video and was inspired to write this post:
I love the passion this guy has. It reminded me of a David Brooks article I read recently http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html?_r=0
I wanted to write this for my Brother-in-Laws. This idea, which admittedly is something very obvious, is that there are people who are completely dis-engaged from life, and there are others who are completely impassioned by it. For some people, this passion for life comes from some idea (e.g. Religion). We could call this secondary passion. For others, this passion is for life itself. It comes from genuine love of helping others, or from genuine love shared with a spouse, genuine love of teaching young pupils, or of finding new knowledge, or of using your creativity to help others, or maybe from watching the sunset, or from the moon float across the sky. It could come from a lot of things, but what I didn't realize when I was younger, was that this passion can be nurtured. All I know yet, is that people who have this passion seem to lead better lives. They help others more, they do more at work, even food tastes better. Importantly, their passion is contagious, it inspires those around them too. So how does one obtain this passion? Why don't we all have it? How does it relate to our conscious experience and Truth?
I would wager that those people who are completely impassioned or completely dispassionate were not born that way (barring medical disorders). Rather, they have nurtured that passion or neglected it. I think this nuturing must be the most powerful force of all. After all, even people who face extreme hardship, with the right atttitude, can still maintain their heart. But undoubtedly life circumstances play a role, too. Exactly how though I am not sure. Some of the most dispassionate people I know have see the most favorable circumstances (wealth, grades, etc.) And some of the most passionate, have come from the toughtest circumstances.
What about nature? Maybe kids are just born with a certain capacity for passion for life. I think this is face-value wrong, but maybe this is from my own experience (e.g. I feel that I have changed in my capacity (n=1)). I also feel I have seen others change, usually this is to be less passionate, but sometimes also for more. Or some people lead more complex patterns, they start passionate, go dry for a while, then gain their passion back later (parabolic, perhaps?).
As such, I will very unscientifically conclude that passion can be nurtured. In fact, it must be nurtured, or life will dry you out like a raisin in the sun. You might have some innate capacity, but this doesn't last you much beyond adolescence. After this, the passion you bring to you life is up to you. You make it, or you can destroy it. You could destroy it really fast if you do bad shit (personal experience speaking). You can build it up with good choices. Interestingly, you can also build it with Mindfulness and meditations, or with biking or yoga. Like I said at the outset, all this is obvious, but I don't think we think about this all the time. We go on thinking about our preoccupations and not focusing on what matters.
But what I wanted to talk about most of all, was how who you choose to hang out with effects your passion. Completely dispassionate people will dry you up in ways you don't even realize. They will dry you up not with what they say but with the contagion of their attitude. It shows in the implicit assumptions they make, the foundations of their thought, which you necessarily invoke when listening. The odd thing about thoughts, and about the human capacity for empathy, is that is makes thoughts contagious. Less so than the flu, but certainly more than most people think about. And so I write to them to warn them. Be on the look out for dispassionate people. You have been spoiled at home, surrounded by passionate people, but the world is not always like this. Some places are rich with passion and others are like passion-deserts. You should always be careful in passion deserts, you will get thirsty and maybe make mistakes.
But work is work, and I think it is what we do in our free time that matters most. It is when we recharge our soul and our love for life (for most of us). This is what made me write this. Find what you love, and find people who share that love, and a love of good things. But most of all, find friends who will help you. Find ones who will remind you that the light exists when you fall in the dark shadows that adversity may cast in your life. But most of all, the impetus of me to write this was to warn you about those who don't emit light at all, but who instead want to pull you down into darkness. We were with a dark person the other night. I won't go much further than to say that she really seemed not to care much about anything. She seemed miserable, awful really. I felt bad for her, but the worst part was, she wasn't honest about it. She acted like she wasn't sad, and that it was cool. But if you listened to her, you could watch her lips quiver with sadness a bit as she spoke. These are the most dangerous kinds of sad people. They don't tell you, they don't ask for help. And in reality, you can't help them.
I wish I knew how to teach you to recognize these, but I don't know what else to do other than to tell you to be careful.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Reminders of What Life is Really About
I had a really tough time in High School, as I think most people did. To help me remember what really mattered, I used to keep a composition notebook with me in which I would write all the times I remembered things that were important about how to live.
At least for me, that is how I find purpose in things. In little bits and pieces, in the smiles of strangers, the warmth of a cup of coffee on a cool night, a hug from a friend, or a kiss from a lover. It is odd really. One might expect a more unified, cogent view of purpose, but it has never appeared to me that way. Rather it appears and then vanishes, but only pieces of it are visible each time. Some times I can keep it in view for days, but other times it seems lost, out of view or at least out of focus.
Thinking back to what I used to write in that notebook, makes me smile. Both with warmth from the hope it offered, and from that wry irony that hits you when you look back at your old self and your old thoughts. I think about things so differently now. I was so much more Christian back then, or at least more religious. I was also so much more self assured. I thought that being smart mattered. Since I have found it matters little in areas of real import. But most of the bits of meaning I found back then had nothing to do with these things. They were about love, and loss, and meaning.
I haven't been recording things as well lately, but I think it is time to start. I have found that, especially as you get older and busier, it is easier to lose sight of those little bits of meaning. I have also found that they become all the more important. Teenagers are foolish, but adults are dangerous.
As such, I think I want to start writing them down again, so I suppose I will record them here. Perhaps they may be of use to someone else too.
04/17 - I want to be a radiant person, someone who projects that inner light. Not because I feel like I have to, or I should. Maybe partly because I feel like I can be. But mostly because I want to. Perhaps it is a latent desire to pay back those who have done something nice for me. I feel like I'm not good at it, but that is no reason not to try.
http://mobile.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html?referrer=&_r=0
04/17 - I dedicate this one to my friends, Keyan and Mercedes, who kept me company on a lonely Saturday night when my wife was at work. They invited me over to watch a movie and stayed up with me even though they were tired. I hope I do the same, the next time I have the chance.
Friends > sleep
At least for me, that is how I find purpose in things. In little bits and pieces, in the smiles of strangers, the warmth of a cup of coffee on a cool night, a hug from a friend, or a kiss from a lover. It is odd really. One might expect a more unified, cogent view of purpose, but it has never appeared to me that way. Rather it appears and then vanishes, but only pieces of it are visible each time. Some times I can keep it in view for days, but other times it seems lost, out of view or at least out of focus.
Thinking back to what I used to write in that notebook, makes me smile. Both with warmth from the hope it offered, and from that wry irony that hits you when you look back at your old self and your old thoughts. I think about things so differently now. I was so much more Christian back then, or at least more religious. I was also so much more self assured. I thought that being smart mattered. Since I have found it matters little in areas of real import. But most of the bits of meaning I found back then had nothing to do with these things. They were about love, and loss, and meaning.
I haven't been recording things as well lately, but I think it is time to start. I have found that, especially as you get older and busier, it is easier to lose sight of those little bits of meaning. I have also found that they become all the more important. Teenagers are foolish, but adults are dangerous.
As such, I think I want to start writing them down again, so I suppose I will record them here. Perhaps they may be of use to someone else too.
04/17 - I want to be a radiant person, someone who projects that inner light. Not because I feel like I have to, or I should. Maybe partly because I feel like I can be. But mostly because I want to. Perhaps it is a latent desire to pay back those who have done something nice for me. I feel like I'm not good at it, but that is no reason not to try.
http://mobile.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html?referrer=&_r=0
04/17 - I dedicate this one to my friends, Keyan and Mercedes, who kept me company on a lonely Saturday night when my wife was at work. They invited me over to watch a movie and stayed up with me even though they were tired. I hope I do the same, the next time I have the chance.
Friends > sleep
Saturday, April 4, 2015
For Goodness Sake, Secure the Border so we can Talk Seriously about the Undocumented Persons Problem
Dear Government (President and Congress and Courts),
Please secure the border. This undocumented persons problem is out of control.
This problem has recently come into my fullest attention. I previously recognized that we had an issue, especially in Houston. But it was not until the problem cost me personally thousand of dollars, that I really had a dog in the fight.
Two weeks ago, my wife and I were driving home after having dinner with my parents. We were almost at our house pulling through a green light when a car veered across the intersection into our car. It had been travelling the opposite direction and had a green light (but not an arrow) on a left turn yield. Needless to say they did not yield. And at the worst of my fears, a young, poor looking hispanic women stepped out of the vehicle. She spoke no English, and wouldn't give me her insurance. She no doubt had no knowledge of the norms of our country. She also probably doesn't understand left turn yields.
We find out from the police later that she had no drivers license at all. She was almost certainly undocumented. Somehow, she had insurance, but it was from some company who basically charged her money, but refused to cover any claims (since she has no license). And this is legal, why?? WTF?
My wife's car was totaled. It was the first big purchase we ever made together, and now it was gone. All the airbags deployed, the front exploded. It was destroyed. Along with the destruction of the car itself, we lost the $6000 we put down, and all the taxes we had paid already. And a whole lot of peace of mind. We also lost days of work dealing with the ensuing calamity of dealing with this scamming insurance company. Eventually we had to file with out own insurance company under our uninsured, underinsured policy. This allows us to get a new car, but will not repay us for our losses. We have to pay more for the same car because we have no money to put down. Unfortunately, only the other driver is liable for this loss, and it is unlikely we will ever be able to get her to pay. We have not found a lawyer to take up our case yet. The amount we seek is small, and it will be a fight to obtain it since this person could flee the country at any time and come back under a new name...
I waited to write this for 2 weeks because I wanted to be calm. I am as calm as I think I will be, but this accident has really changed (or focused) our view of the problem. My wife and I used to be quite permissive of their presence. We eat their food, live in the houses they build much of, and see them on a daily basis. My wife treats them on a daily basis in the hospital. We live near many of them.
On the other hand, we also pay to educate their children. We also pay for their healthcare (through the county). We also pay for their transport (through metro) and they clog our roads. They commit crime and wreck cars, and those injured have little recourse. In the weeks since the accident, we realized that 3 of our friends had been in similar wrecks in just the last few months. This is practically an epidemic and is causing countless Americans thousands of dollars in losses
Isn't it time we do something?
I don't see how it isn't. And before you write me off as a zealot. I am an independent, often liberal voter.
I think we need to do something about it, and I don't think the answer is to kick them out. This would likely be too difficult to achieve anyway. We need to deal with the ones hear are here. There ought to be an emergency ICE taskforce assigned to this. They need to be issued work permits, and be integrated into society as quickly as possible. The government owes this to its citizens, it is their job. It is not fair that we in border states have to suffer.
Of course, before we do this, reason also dictates we secure the border. You cannot give free acceptance to those here before making sure that more do not come. The presence of those here already is burden enough to our economy and tax-payers. We already pay for so much for them.
For college for their kids even. And I think this is probably a good thing, it is helping them integrate which is what we need.
More importantly, we can let more in once we deal with the enormous backlog we have built up through years of unrestricted flow through our border. If you agree, let you government officials know and vote accordingly. I don't want anything extreme or partisan. I just want the problem solved, once and for all!!
If you have a better idea, let me know. I would love to hear it!
Please secure the border. This undocumented persons problem is out of control.
This problem has recently come into my fullest attention. I previously recognized that we had an issue, especially in Houston. But it was not until the problem cost me personally thousand of dollars, that I really had a dog in the fight.
Two weeks ago, my wife and I were driving home after having dinner with my parents. We were almost at our house pulling through a green light when a car veered across the intersection into our car. It had been travelling the opposite direction and had a green light (but not an arrow) on a left turn yield. Needless to say they did not yield. And at the worst of my fears, a young, poor looking hispanic women stepped out of the vehicle. She spoke no English, and wouldn't give me her insurance. She no doubt had no knowledge of the norms of our country. She also probably doesn't understand left turn yields.
We find out from the police later that she had no drivers license at all. She was almost certainly undocumented. Somehow, she had insurance, but it was from some company who basically charged her money, but refused to cover any claims (since she has no license). And this is legal, why?? WTF?
My wife's car was totaled. It was the first big purchase we ever made together, and now it was gone. All the airbags deployed, the front exploded. It was destroyed. Along with the destruction of the car itself, we lost the $6000 we put down, and all the taxes we had paid already. And a whole lot of peace of mind. We also lost days of work dealing with the ensuing calamity of dealing with this scamming insurance company. Eventually we had to file with out own insurance company under our uninsured, underinsured policy. This allows us to get a new car, but will not repay us for our losses. We have to pay more for the same car because we have no money to put down. Unfortunately, only the other driver is liable for this loss, and it is unlikely we will ever be able to get her to pay. We have not found a lawyer to take up our case yet. The amount we seek is small, and it will be a fight to obtain it since this person could flee the country at any time and come back under a new name...
I waited to write this for 2 weeks because I wanted to be calm. I am as calm as I think I will be, but this accident has really changed (or focused) our view of the problem. My wife and I used to be quite permissive of their presence. We eat their food, live in the houses they build much of, and see them on a daily basis. My wife treats them on a daily basis in the hospital. We live near many of them.
On the other hand, we also pay to educate their children. We also pay for their healthcare (through the county). We also pay for their transport (through metro) and they clog our roads. They commit crime and wreck cars, and those injured have little recourse. In the weeks since the accident, we realized that 3 of our friends had been in similar wrecks in just the last few months. This is practically an epidemic and is causing countless Americans thousands of dollars in losses
Isn't it time we do something?
I don't see how it isn't. And before you write me off as a zealot. I am an independent, often liberal voter.
I think we need to do something about it, and I don't think the answer is to kick them out. This would likely be too difficult to achieve anyway. We need to deal with the ones hear are here. There ought to be an emergency ICE taskforce assigned to this. They need to be issued work permits, and be integrated into society as quickly as possible. The government owes this to its citizens, it is their job. It is not fair that we in border states have to suffer.
Of course, before we do this, reason also dictates we secure the border. You cannot give free acceptance to those here before making sure that more do not come. The presence of those here already is burden enough to our economy and tax-payers. We already pay for so much for them.
For college for their kids even. And I think this is probably a good thing, it is helping them integrate which is what we need.
More importantly, we can let more in once we deal with the enormous backlog we have built up through years of unrestricted flow through our border. If you agree, let you government officials know and vote accordingly. I don't want anything extreme or partisan. I just want the problem solved, once and for all!!
If you have a better idea, let me know. I would love to hear it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
A Tribute to Scott Austin
Words always seem to fall so short in situations like this. They are always inadequate to express the loss, they cannot re-capture what a person meant. The warmth of his hugs. The smell of his smoky coffee-tinged breath. The depth of his caring. I cannot record my love for this man, what he meant to me, and how I feel he changed the world, but I want to try. I want to write down what I remember of him so I won't ever forget his life, or the lessons I learned from being with him. Though I never could anyway, for those lessons are in my heart.
I met Dr. Austin my first year of college, at the philosophy club meetings he so beloved. It was the first meeting of the year of the club, which basically consisted of a bunch of yahoos discussing things and watching movies. He always came a couple times a year, but mostly avoided them so as not to disrupt the natural sharing of the undergrads. I knew he was special from the first day I met him. His baggy pants and half-tucked shirt barely concealing his gentle soul. It is immediately apparent to anyone what a loving and caring person he was. His disarming nature was one of my favorite things. But this nature wasn't really something visible. It was in his attitude. You could hear it in the way he spoke, always cautious to avoid quick judgment. His genuine concern and humility could open anyone to share even the hardest things. I remember often being tempted to tell him thoughts I hadn't told very many people, things I often didn't even admit to myself.
Our friendship continued to blossom during my years at A&M. I took 2 of his classes, and he mercifully graded my mediocre philosophy writings. He liked to teach MWF at 8 AM. This wasn't a problem for him since he liked to go to bed around 8 and wake up at 4AM but it was rough for us undergrads. While he would never make attendance compulsory, he certainly appreciated those who came and would lure us in every Friday with donuts from the Shipley's by his house. In Philosophy 101 we covered the basics, mostly focusing on Plato's Dialogues. But also working through Dante's Inferno and Zen and the art of Motorcycle maintenance. In later years I took his Ancient Philosophy Class and we studied the classic works of Greek Philosophy and some of the foundational Eastern works. His grading policy was always the same a little participation, and then 2 large essays. But what made Dr. Austin's classes great was his mastery of the material, and also his openness to all kinds of viewpoints. Even viewpoints which he might have thought quite silly.
Sadly, I didn't get to take anymore of his classes, but from that point forward our friendship grew even more. I became an officer in the philosophy club. With a team of close friends and fellow officers, we began to expand what it did. He never directly told me so, but I knew it made him happy to see the club he loved so much thriving. To see people discussing philosophy during the week and even occasionally volunteering in the community and also hanging out in fellowship with each other. Philosophy club was evolving into somewhat of a fellowship club for the agnostics and milder Christians. It was certainly not as militant as breakaway or as the "atheist" club. If you know anything about A&M, you know it could be intimidating for those who don't share the majority view. We provided a place for people to be open and share, and to dissent. We had Christians, agnostics, and atheists alike and I know it thrilled Dr. Austin.
Eventually though, my time at A&M was coming to an end. I was applying to medical school, and again Dr. Austin was thrilled, but I was sad to leave. Sad to leave the club I loved. Sad to not see a man I loved nearly as often. But luckily I graduated in Dec. 2011 so I had some time to transition out of the club and out of the university while still being in College Station. My fiance (now wife) went to dinner with Dr. Austin many times that semester. We would usually go to Rosie Pho, this incredible Vietnamese place that (for some reason) is in College Station. He always told us we should meet him at Taz, another restaurant in town. Sadly, we never did. But I look fondly back on those dinners we shared. I remember with great sadness the spicy calamari he loved so much to share.
Then, we moved away. I imagine this must be one of the saddest parts of being a professor. The people you love so much leave. But Ariana and I had to go to medical school in Houston. Dr. Austin of course had written me a letter of recommendation. I actually received compliments on that letter of rec, surely not on account of my valor, but probably on account of his kindness. We would make it back to College Station just a couple more times, always trying to get dinner with him to share what was going on.
But turmoil would then strike our lives. I left medical school after the first year and everything became mixed up. I lost what I had wanted to do. I had to completely redefine who I was, and what my goals were in life. I struggled for a good bit on my own, and then I turned again to the wise man who I trusted and loved. I met with him for coffee one day at A&M (which at this point in time had a starbucks in the MSC.... wtf?). It didn't make everything better at that time, but it was just the little bit of hope I needed. He bought my coffee that day and we talked about the different options. More importantly, he reminded me of some aspects of myself I had forgotten. Like he always did. Dr. Austin brought out the best in people. And this is what I want to remember about him.
Dr. Austin, I love you and miss you. I wish you the eternal peace which I hope a good life brings. But above all, I want you to know what an impact you had on me. My experience and life would not have been the same without you.
Our friendship continued to blossom during my years at A&M. I took 2 of his classes, and he mercifully graded my mediocre philosophy writings. He liked to teach MWF at 8 AM. This wasn't a problem for him since he liked to go to bed around 8 and wake up at 4AM but it was rough for us undergrads. While he would never make attendance compulsory, he certainly appreciated those who came and would lure us in every Friday with donuts from the Shipley's by his house. In Philosophy 101 we covered the basics, mostly focusing on Plato's Dialogues. But also working through Dante's Inferno and Zen and the art of Motorcycle maintenance. In later years I took his Ancient Philosophy Class and we studied the classic works of Greek Philosophy and some of the foundational Eastern works. His grading policy was always the same a little participation, and then 2 large essays. But what made Dr. Austin's classes great was his mastery of the material, and also his openness to all kinds of viewpoints. Even viewpoints which he might have thought quite silly.
Sadly, I didn't get to take anymore of his classes, but from that point forward our friendship grew even more. I became an officer in the philosophy club. With a team of close friends and fellow officers, we began to expand what it did. He never directly told me so, but I knew it made him happy to see the club he loved so much thriving. To see people discussing philosophy during the week and even occasionally volunteering in the community and also hanging out in fellowship with each other. Philosophy club was evolving into somewhat of a fellowship club for the agnostics and milder Christians. It was certainly not as militant as breakaway or as the "atheist" club. If you know anything about A&M, you know it could be intimidating for those who don't share the majority view. We provided a place for people to be open and share, and to dissent. We had Christians, agnostics, and atheists alike and I know it thrilled Dr. Austin.
Eventually though, my time at A&M was coming to an end. I was applying to medical school, and again Dr. Austin was thrilled, but I was sad to leave. Sad to leave the club I loved. Sad to not see a man I loved nearly as often. But luckily I graduated in Dec. 2011 so I had some time to transition out of the club and out of the university while still being in College Station. My fiance (now wife) went to dinner with Dr. Austin many times that semester. We would usually go to Rosie Pho, this incredible Vietnamese place that (for some reason) is in College Station. He always told us we should meet him at Taz, another restaurant in town. Sadly, we never did. But I look fondly back on those dinners we shared. I remember with great sadness the spicy calamari he loved so much to share.
Then, we moved away. I imagine this must be one of the saddest parts of being a professor. The people you love so much leave. But Ariana and I had to go to medical school in Houston. Dr. Austin of course had written me a letter of recommendation. I actually received compliments on that letter of rec, surely not on account of my valor, but probably on account of his kindness. We would make it back to College Station just a couple more times, always trying to get dinner with him to share what was going on.
But turmoil would then strike our lives. I left medical school after the first year and everything became mixed up. I lost what I had wanted to do. I had to completely redefine who I was, and what my goals were in life. I struggled for a good bit on my own, and then I turned again to the wise man who I trusted and loved. I met with him for coffee one day at A&M (which at this point in time had a starbucks in the MSC.... wtf?). It didn't make everything better at that time, but it was just the little bit of hope I needed. He bought my coffee that day and we talked about the different options. More importantly, he reminded me of some aspects of myself I had forgotten. Like he always did. Dr. Austin brought out the best in people. And this is what I want to remember about him.
Dr. Austin, I love you and miss you. I wish you the eternal peace which I hope a good life brings. But above all, I want you to know what an impact you had on me. My experience and life would not have been the same without you.
Monday, July 7, 2014
On girls and boys and being married.
It seems to me, at least from talking with my friends, and from my own observations, that today's 20-somethings have it harder than ever in the dating and relationship world. I was talking with a female co-worker of mine today about her dabbles in the dating realm. It sounded like she was having a rough time, which didn't make sense to me because she is a lovely and smart girl. She's just looking for a cute-normal hard working guy, who wants to care for her. Should be easy enough to find right?
It's not though, and maybe it never was. But is seems more complicated now than ever. We have apps like Tinder muddling things even further by suggesting what in reality are terrible matches. But when girls and boys are too busy on their phones to look around and see what is right in front of them, strange results will ensue. Girls will forget their ability to judge character, which is almost fundamental to them. Boys will distrust girls as they become less sure about what they are looking for. This causes girls to become skeptical of boys. All of a sudden the whole thing is a mess. Noone trusts anyone else. As the unspoken rules guiding dating become evermore entrenched and ingrained in expectation, the situation becomes even more tangled. Sadly, I don't see things getting much better. Both the male and female sub cultures are growing further apart. It's damn near a miracle anyone can find a soul-mate in this love economy.
Fortunately, or maybe not, I am a contrarian. I was born to march to the beat of my own drum. To put things less euphemistically, this pretty much means I firmly believe in doing whatever the hell I think is right, even if its crazy. This allowed me to avoid this culture, as much as a cultured person can. I did the crazy thing and married the first girl I made love to. I trusted her, and she trusted me. To be fair to those my age, it is easier to do this at age 18 than in the mid 20's. It would be harder now, mostly because I'm more cautious. But this caution just might be toxic. I think this caution, this skepticism, is the root of the problem I described above. This skepticism,this fear of commitment, is what has driven the evolution of the male and female counter-cultures.
Now, I want to try to connect these seemingly disparate subjects, of me being married and my experiences, with my perspective on modern dating in your 20's.
Being married is hard. Everyone know that (right??).... Maybe, or maybe not.
I was listening to NPR this morning and they were talking with a young author of a book called "Landline". It is the story of a couple who falls apart, and then how (in the mind of the female protagonist) they reconnect. They fall apart after a few years of marriage, a few dry, chafy years. It wasn't what they expected. Then, they reconnect over by talking over a landline, like they did when they were much younger and newly in love. There was none of the delay or modulation of a cell phone. Just the faithful truth of an analog receiver and speaker. Anyway, the important part of the story is not the phone, or the imaginariness or not of the resolution. It is really a story about marriage, and how it falls apart and can get put back together. It is a story about the richness of "analog" connection. A story of success coming through trial in marriage. It is, at its core, a sort of modernist love story. It is not the traditional romantic story. It is a real one, full of the real struggles that occur. And man are they hard. These struggles, and our ignorance of them before they hit are evidenced by the high divorce rate. But they are there, whether we ignore them at first or not. And in every marriage I know of, they come. The author, in her interview, said that marriage really isn't promising to love one another forever, but committing to change next to each other. I find this to be a wise and true analysis. So my point is, we are being lied to in the media and maybe even by our parents about marriage. It is hard. It is the fucking hardest thing you'll ever do. Harder than a marathon, or a triathlon, or med school, or even golf. I daresay I'm a better golfer than husband. It is so hard, you'll want to give up. That will happen, and if it doesn't, you're either a saint, or very lucky. Probably though, your just lying to yourself. I think its high time we start telling the truth about things, and maybe this is my attempt to do so. To share what I have learned.
So how does this relate, marriage being hard, and men and women are on different pages about dating. I believe the connection is expectation. Specifically, expectation which is wrong. This whole confarction (yes I made that up), is about people expecting the worst from the get go. And why should we blame them, for if they were to expect the promised idea of a "great marriage". They would fail too. No wonder people are distraught with marriage. The whole fucking classic concept is a lie. Or maybe that is the modern one... Fuck it. Maybe back a long time ago, they had it partly right, not the forced marriage part. But that marriage was a commitment, it isn't always a feeling, in fact, maybe it never is. It probably wasn't for them lol. We get the benefit of choosing, if we do choose marriage, who we commit to change beside. And we do have that feeling at first, which maybe makes it harder when it goes away. But the whole situation is complicated by the fact that that is not the expectation. We sugar-coat what it means to be married. Perhaps somebody thought this would entice people to be married, but this is ruining the whole idea of marriage. Marriage is carnal, beautiful, unique, incredibly difficult, rewarding, and fun. Somehow, when we tell our children about it, we leave out all the bad parts. They are left out of most stories. Even in more rogue stories, like 50 shades of grey, she finds "love" in the end. Mind you this love makes me want to throw up out of every orifice. Out of vulgarity but mostly out or outright falsity. Maybe I just haven't found that sort of passion, but neither have most people I know....It is a lie. Not the passion for another, but the nature of it. It doesn't ever stay that intuitive.
Yet we let these stories and their implications diffuse in our society and misguide our fellow 20-somethings. Understandably, they are dismayed. The girls don't know what they want. The boys grasp at this moving target, but miss with an even great error. And then WTF. That leaves us AFU. But I for one, want to change this. I believe in the profound power of people to connect, in REAL painful, beautiful ways. It is the mess that makes it beautiful. If every bite of your peanut butter sandwich was the same, that would just be weird. It is variable, and wild, but you resolve to eat it. All of it, except for the small part you give to your dog....
Disclaimer: I am not that good of a husband, I express myself better on paper than with my mouth. But it's still not that good.
Disclaimer 2: This is just my opinion. It doesn't really mean a whole lot in the end, but if someone likes it, then it was worth me writing. I enjoyed writing it anyway.
all the best!
It's not though, and maybe it never was. But is seems more complicated now than ever. We have apps like Tinder muddling things even further by suggesting what in reality are terrible matches. But when girls and boys are too busy on their phones to look around and see what is right in front of them, strange results will ensue. Girls will forget their ability to judge character, which is almost fundamental to them. Boys will distrust girls as they become less sure about what they are looking for. This causes girls to become skeptical of boys. All of a sudden the whole thing is a mess. Noone trusts anyone else. As the unspoken rules guiding dating become evermore entrenched and ingrained in expectation, the situation becomes even more tangled. Sadly, I don't see things getting much better. Both the male and female sub cultures are growing further apart. It's damn near a miracle anyone can find a soul-mate in this love economy.
Fortunately, or maybe not, I am a contrarian. I was born to march to the beat of my own drum. To put things less euphemistically, this pretty much means I firmly believe in doing whatever the hell I think is right, even if its crazy. This allowed me to avoid this culture, as much as a cultured person can. I did the crazy thing and married the first girl I made love to. I trusted her, and she trusted me. To be fair to those my age, it is easier to do this at age 18 than in the mid 20's. It would be harder now, mostly because I'm more cautious. But this caution just might be toxic. I think this caution, this skepticism, is the root of the problem I described above. This skepticism,this fear of commitment, is what has driven the evolution of the male and female counter-cultures.
Now, I want to try to connect these seemingly disparate subjects, of me being married and my experiences, with my perspective on modern dating in your 20's.
Being married is hard. Everyone know that (right??).... Maybe, or maybe not.
I was listening to NPR this morning and they were talking with a young author of a book called "Landline". It is the story of a couple who falls apart, and then how (in the mind of the female protagonist) they reconnect. They fall apart after a few years of marriage, a few dry, chafy years. It wasn't what they expected. Then, they reconnect over by talking over a landline, like they did when they were much younger and newly in love. There was none of the delay or modulation of a cell phone. Just the faithful truth of an analog receiver and speaker. Anyway, the important part of the story is not the phone, or the imaginariness or not of the resolution. It is really a story about marriage, and how it falls apart and can get put back together. It is a story about the richness of "analog" connection. A story of success coming through trial in marriage. It is, at its core, a sort of modernist love story. It is not the traditional romantic story. It is a real one, full of the real struggles that occur. And man are they hard. These struggles, and our ignorance of them before they hit are evidenced by the high divorce rate. But they are there, whether we ignore them at first or not. And in every marriage I know of, they come. The author, in her interview, said that marriage really isn't promising to love one another forever, but committing to change next to each other. I find this to be a wise and true analysis. So my point is, we are being lied to in the media and maybe even by our parents about marriage. It is hard. It is the fucking hardest thing you'll ever do. Harder than a marathon, or a triathlon, or med school, or even golf. I daresay I'm a better golfer than husband. It is so hard, you'll want to give up. That will happen, and if it doesn't, you're either a saint, or very lucky. Probably though, your just lying to yourself. I think its high time we start telling the truth about things, and maybe this is my attempt to do so. To share what I have learned.
So how does this relate, marriage being hard, and men and women are on different pages about dating. I believe the connection is expectation. Specifically, expectation which is wrong. This whole confarction (yes I made that up), is about people expecting the worst from the get go. And why should we blame them, for if they were to expect the promised idea of a "great marriage". They would fail too. No wonder people are distraught with marriage. The whole fucking classic concept is a lie. Or maybe that is the modern one... Fuck it. Maybe back a long time ago, they had it partly right, not the forced marriage part. But that marriage was a commitment, it isn't always a feeling, in fact, maybe it never is. It probably wasn't for them lol. We get the benefit of choosing, if we do choose marriage, who we commit to change beside. And we do have that feeling at first, which maybe makes it harder when it goes away. But the whole situation is complicated by the fact that that is not the expectation. We sugar-coat what it means to be married. Perhaps somebody thought this would entice people to be married, but this is ruining the whole idea of marriage. Marriage is carnal, beautiful, unique, incredibly difficult, rewarding, and fun. Somehow, when we tell our children about it, we leave out all the bad parts. They are left out of most stories. Even in more rogue stories, like 50 shades of grey, she finds "love" in the end. Mind you this love makes me want to throw up out of every orifice. Out of vulgarity but mostly out or outright falsity. Maybe I just haven't found that sort of passion, but neither have most people I know....It is a lie. Not the passion for another, but the nature of it. It doesn't ever stay that intuitive.
Yet we let these stories and their implications diffuse in our society and misguide our fellow 20-somethings. Understandably, they are dismayed. The girls don't know what they want. The boys grasp at this moving target, but miss with an even great error. And then WTF. That leaves us AFU. But I for one, want to change this. I believe in the profound power of people to connect, in REAL painful, beautiful ways. It is the mess that makes it beautiful. If every bite of your peanut butter sandwich was the same, that would just be weird. It is variable, and wild, but you resolve to eat it. All of it, except for the small part you give to your dog....
Disclaimer: I am not that good of a husband, I express myself better on paper than with my mouth. But it's still not that good.
Disclaimer 2: This is just my opinion. It doesn't really mean a whole lot in the end, but if someone likes it, then it was worth me writing. I enjoyed writing it anyway.
all the best!
Monday, March 31, 2014
Dejection, a Modern Epidemic
Dejection, is similar to rejection, but comes from within, sort of. Dejection is a complicated phenomenon. It is similar in character to despair, but dejection contains a more active or social element than despair does. It is almost like deliberately displaying despair so as to engender a change in your peers' behaviors. You might think of a Mom saying to an upset teen, "Don't look so dejected....you can go out with your friends next time." I think the idea of dejection is predicated on this idea of a "next time." Additionally, its utility depends on a social environment which responds to it. Which is why I think it is quite different from despair or rejection. To me, it has quite a bit in common with rebellion. It is almost like a passive type of rebellion. (//disclaimer: this is probably not a surprise to anyone who has spent any length of time with me...)
Now that what I mean when I say "dejection" is clear, we can move on. I had the idea for this post when I was riding bikes with my friend Jake. We were riding down Westheimer and came to a light. It was red for the vehicles like us travelling down Westheimer even though there was little to no cross traffic. I saw it, and saw cars near by and though, I want to change their idea of who biker's are. We are not a bunch of lawless hooligans. He rolled through even though right before that we had been talking about cycling and how to better its reputation and popularity. It is not that it was dangerous that made me think. It was his disregard for reputation. Now, I may have been looking too far into things. But I hope you're getting the idea. I think it was dejection that motivated his behavior. Or maybe it was despair. I think the line is thin between the two. Maybe he thinks cars are never going to respect us, so fuck 'em. I'll ride how I want. I think what was interesting is that we clearly had two very different perspectives. We come from two very different backgrounds. Jake from low SES and me from a relatively high SES. How much of a role that played I'm not sure. Also, I am fundamentally an optimist, so I would lean more towards the idea that car drivers will come around to love (or at least cooperate with) cyclists and cycling. Jake's behavior to me is a form of dejection, or at least a reaction to it. This is not to imply that Jake ever does go or would go around jumping ahead of cars on his bike or running lights or stop signs when cross traffic is there. Quite the contrary, he is very respectful as far as I have seen. So one can imagine that this idea did not jump into my head on its own. Again to the contrary, I have been experiencing dejection quite a bit myself lately.
I think my first idea of it came from my current work. I won't give the name of my company here, but I will tell you it is a large residential construction company, and I build 500k to 1m semi-custom semi-production homes. I work mostly with people who are good, well-intentioned people but who sadly have long-since grown weary of the idea that one could do something meaningful in a career or to truly help the people they work for or with. I can't blame them for growing weary, construction is a wearing industry unless you are the boss. I do blame them for forgetting there coworkers are people. It seems that the only time they relate at all is to engage in what could most optimistically be viewed as venting but is most realistically just whining. They share little about their families or lives. It would be un-manly. The most cheery they get is when talking about things like hunting. Alas, I ramble, but I hope you get the picture of the world. Well, in come I, a murse-carrying, coffee-drinking metrosexual. My job, assistant superintendent. My task, to clean up the tattered relationships and mostly built structures we call customers and houses. Best yet, I get bitched at by the customers who already hate my company. Then I get bitched at by my bosses for not cleaning up other peoples' messes fast enough. But I have literally an entire neighborhood worth of houses to fix. It is from this frustration that I first came to know dejection. Dejection, to me, is just frustration made into a habit. Typically for frustration to develop into this it must be compounded by continual disregard to the conflict, abuse of some variety, and isolation. This is most often then compounded by poor conflict resolution between the frustrated party and those causing the frustration and responsible for resolving their irksome habits. Needless to say, I have very little motivation to maintain my current position, except that I need the money. And while I give a good effort to my customers out of principle and follow the reasonable policies, I blatantly and tauntingly violate company policy. Sometimes because I have to to make a customer happy. Other times because I just don't like wearing khakis every day. I categorize this behavior as dejection. I really am hoping to show them something. That their oppressive, old-school man's man mentality is dumb. Or maybe I'm just despairing about a crappy job. Again the line is thin. But despair doesn't prompt behavior. Maybe what I'm calling dejection is my passive social display of my despair. But why show it. It would be better for me, if I toted the line and followed the rules. After all, I start graduate school as the first step to my dream job in August. Who knows?? But I hope you feel my frustration. What should one do when faced with such droll policies and bosses? My answer is dejection...
Which brings me to what I think is the crux of the matter. I read an article earlier last week about a inner city blacks in America, and what they face. I strongly advise reading it.
http://m.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2014/03/the-secret-lives-of-inner-city-black-males/284454/
Now, I will not begin to speak about what black people face, especially in inner cities. I would most assuredly make a fool of myself. But what I can do is try to understand. Try to understand why they act the way they do. And try to understand why I act the way I do. And to change it to better allow them to pursue what we all agree is good and healthy. My suspicion is that it is dejection that motivates them to be permissive to most of the behaviors we all agree are not good. And quite frankly, I can't blame them. I can see why they don't care, and I can see why they would feel like they are not going to change the perception of them among the public. It i maddening to be in that position. And while sure, it is easy to say, "Pick yourselves up by your bootstraps" To say that is neither realistic nor helpful.
I have long believed that the key to all problems between people is to understand why people feel the way they do. I think if we all did that, we could quite quickly solve the dejection epidemic.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Anxiety as Disruption
I always find traditional descriptions of anxiety as dissatisfying. Despite this, I do feel that I have a genuine disorder. I remember clearly not having. I remember the painful slip into disorder. It is a weird thing to watch your thoughts degrade into fears repeating themselves over and over again. It is because of this very clear memory of the falling into anxiety that I have, that I feel so certain that anxiety is a real disorder. Based on my experience, it is quite clearly thought based, but chemically and neurally sustained. The process of climbing out is an odd one. It is the process of modifying thoughts with intentionality so as to reverse the chemical changes that have occurred. It almost feels as if you are lying to yourself at times. Fortunately, you have the memory of 24 years of clear thinking to help you recall what truth actually is, and the thing that is lying or dishonest, is your fear-based calculations. Unfortunately, it is a slow process, but headway is made, bit by bit. Little bit at a time.
But I wanted to write today not about my progress but instead about the phenomenology of anxiety, what it feels like to have anxiety. Most people don't know, except for those who have it. I am unsure how general this experience is, so I will disclaim this by stating that this is what I feel, and it how anxiety appears to me. It might have a different appearance and modality in others' minds.
For me, I experience anxiety as a disruption. It is like sitting at dinner with your wife at your favorite restaurant, but having a nagging ringing in your ear that prevents you from focusing on her. Most often when I catch myself in anxiety, I find myself with my eyes focused on nothing in particular, adrift among the scenery as my mind turns inward. Questioning some aspect of itself mostly. It is weird to have your eyes not focus on anything. I sort of clench my teeth too at the same time. It is a weird feeling. Generally accompanied by this feeling of crawling emptiness in my stomach. Usually I sort of find stumble upon myself in this state..... The self analyzing part of my brain catches itself analyzing itself doing it and says, this is anxiety.... then the rational part says, "stop!". Then the moral part usually feels slightly guilty for having indulged in this. This guilt is unnecessary, but it is there. It is a frustration, or a disappointment, that things aren't all the way better yet, even though I want them to be. I know the key to making them better is discipline, and to be even more in the moment.
Which brings us to what I, and what many others, think the core of anxiety is. Anxiety IS that time spent drifting off. It is the time spent out of the moment. It was hard at first to catch the beginnings of this. I found myself just there, with no clue of how the thought got started. With discipline and training, I began to see what the beginnings of this were. I began to catch it earlier and earlier. It is almost always a dark, self-doubting thought that begins it. Though this is actually the easiest type of beginning for me to deal with. It is much scarier when the mind begins from a question which to me seems reasonable..... Like will I find a job that satisfies my needs and fulfills me? Why should I enjoy this? What do I like about my family? It is these reasonable questions which prompt the gnarliest twists of my stomach, that sick hunger for an answer that won't come. Usually, these deep sorts of questions don't have answers anyway, but the mind, prompted by the feeling of the body prompted by the mind, plunges into the dark answers that fear submits as truth. From there the mind drifts into the dark sea of self-diagnosis and self-prognosing. A dark sea it is indeed. This darkness catches the focus of the mind and pulls it away from others, from the present moment. Into this analysis of what is and what isn't rather than just looking at what simply is right in front of you. You think to yourself, when the hell did life get so complicated. (Aside, this lends these thoughts a bit of credibility in the world of complicatedness we live in. I feel like nowadays, the more complicated something is, the more likely it is to be true). But in that very thinking is the problem itself, for you are almost definitionally not living in the moment. What is so special about the moment? I'm not sure, but it seems that for me anxiety is a separation from it. I guess the specialness lies not so much in the moment in itself, but in the joy that it has to offer. It might not seem like all that much, but in comparison to the dark seas of the mind, it has ALOT to offer, lol.
So for me, this is why I say anxiety is disruption. It is that questions which caused you to leave the moment. It is that question that is so scary that you feel as if you MUST turn your focus from how good your coffee tastes, or how soft your dog feels, to some irrelevant, probably unanswerable question. This is what anxiety is to me. I hope that it helps someone that I shared it. I really love most of the people I know, and I hope that it might help them figure something out about themselves.
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