To borrow a phrase from one of my favorite Chevelle songs, the time feels right to embark upon a “new momentum.” Approximately 10 years ago, I wrote down a list of the things I wanted to achieve creatively. This list included projects that were currently underway, avenues I had yet to pursue. Even more vague, were ambitious projects that were so enormous in scope that they seemed relegated to the realm of daydreams. All said, the list was populated, at the time, by about 30 projects or so. There were grandiose plans for albums of music, volumes of books, and catalogues of art. Certainly, there was enough to keep one busy for a lifetime; if one was given a long enough timeline, and if busywork was the desired lifestyle.
What ended up happening over the years was a sort of refinement towards these objectives. Some projects became more urgent, others lost their relevancy, and still others became mutated combinations of previously slated projects. This had the effect of essentially reducing my ongoing project list, and streamlining my work to represent a more realistic way of actually accomplishing these goals.
I have always sought to utilize the natural energy contained within the different seasons. This is not a forceful wielding of the power of the seasons, but a calm recognition of how to flow with the particular energies that cycle around each year. These energies amplify my own determination to bring my reality into existence.
Spring is a time of renewal, of expansion, and of positive momentum. In the spirit of renewal, I have found that it is important to periodically reexamine one’s goals and priorities. Life is constantly changing, and it is good to structure goals around the adaptability that life requires. Do my goals still work for the current conditions of my life? What are my plans for all of these lofty goals?
Over time, I have seen some of these goals mature into fruition. What I have come to realize is that typically, the more clearly I can imagine something, the more likely it will come into existence. There is nothing quite like seeing an idea manifest itself into reality, especially in a way that is meaningful to others.
The purpose and drive behind my work is to touch other people’s lives. It is not enough anymore to simply create things for my own satisfaction, but to reach out to others and hopefully enrich their lives. I have seen how it is possible to make a difference, and it is with this in mind that I work to carry out a new momentum.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Concepts of Compatibility II: Gender Bender
I've got a bone to pick with the opposite sex. Well, that's not entirely accurate; when I first set out to write this, I was feeling frustrated, and I thought that the source of my frustration were women. However, as I began to sort out my feelings a little more, I recognized that women are just as much victim to what I'm talking about as men. I can't put the blame squarely on their shoulders, as lovely as those shoulders might be. No, I believe that most people do things because it is the way that they were shown. What is demonstrated from one group or individual to the next easily catches on like wildfire, spreading all over the place until the burn from it begins to feel normal, and the non-burn begins to feel strange and uncomfortable. What am I talking about? It's commonly referred to as the "Game." This is the delicate and subtle game of attraction between men and women; the interplay of pursuit/rejection; the unspoken rules of attraction and engagement; the curious business of courtship.
My particular beef with the "Game," is that lately, it has become unsatisfying. I find myself at a place where the choices of potential partners seems endless, due to my proximity to a large portion of the female population. But are there really more choices? From my observations, it seems that many people get funneled together, performing courtship rituals using a value system invoked by society. Many of these concepts have felt unnatural to me, and when I have tried to adhere to the socially acceptable model that has been presented to me, it felt contrived. The closer I look into what it actually takes to win-over the opposite sex, the dynamics involved, the more disconnected I feel.
The crux of the "Game" relies on the fundamental principle that men and women are essentially estranged, and appear as mysterious creatures to one another. Oh, how many times I have marveled at the seemingly deep mysteries that surround the opposite sex! But these days, I think that the mystery is only superficial, and that deep down, men and women represent more analogous creatures that have been conditioned to operate in an environment that is both confusing and contradictory. Both men and women represent virtually the same mystery to each other. Both sexes are trying to figure the other one out, in order to get a "1up" on the other in the "Game."
This pitting of man vs. woman is set up like a game, complete with rules both spoken and unspoken. When I recently told a friend of mine about my frustrations, he reinforced to me, many of the principles of modern courtship that I find loathsome. Essentially, I feel as if I have been bombarded with other peoples' myths regarding how one should act around the opposite sex. I will list some of these principles, and comment on them as follows:
1. Don't expect the lady to come to you; it's up to the man to show initial interest and approach the female.
***The whole point behind this is the archaic concept of out-dated gender roles. Men are expected to "hit on" women, thus cementing their caricatures as predators, and the women are the "deciders" as to which men they will fend off. The pursuing man (or woman, in some cases) must present value to the other person, "selling" themselves in a certain way. Why should I be the "one" who must present value? In our society, why is that burden put mostly on the male shoulders? Why not initially the female? It seems as if women are deemed inherently "valuable," and men are pre-positioned to have to "prove" their value as an incentive for the woman to be interested.
Many women are used to getting "hit on," so they become accustomed to expecting a prospective male to "make the moves." And subsequently, if a man doesn't act in the role of the aggressor, then he is deemed somewhat emasculate by the standards of our society. This type of gender posturing has an additional negative effect of creating the presumption that any encounter initiated by a man must mean that he is romantically interested. I find it difficult at times to engage in casual conversations with strangers, because they presume from the start, that I have sexual intentions (whether I do, or not). It's hard to pay an earnest compliment when most of the time, it is perceived as a "pick-up."
The reality is that a person (man or woman) will seek out the kinds of experiences they want, including the types of people they bring into their lives. I find it interesting how quickly and easily some women embrace the role of the aggressor when they find a man that they are interested in. If one is holding out for the other to make the first move, then they are essentially holding onto a fabricated notion of an ideal fantasy. For others, it's the thrill of the "hunt" that they enjoy. Personally, I have found encounters where there is an obvious mutual interest and exchange to be the most satisfying. I don't feel like I have to "sell" myself, or act like someone I'm not, just to attract the opposite sex.
2. Women are attracted to men who are confident about themselves.
***This is one of the more cliched notions of gender dynamics, and at least, a superficially acceptable concept. Who wants to be with someone who isn't confident? But sadly, I believe that this concept has become propagandized and relegated to a mere bumper sticker slogan.
Take me for instance; I am one of the most confident people that I know. I am confident in myself, in the direction my life is going. I have taken significant measures to develop my personality and have spent an exceptional amount of time soul-searching. I know what I want, where I'm going, and who I am. I am confident enough to go to a movie alone, or eat at a restaurant solo, or go to a bar without the company of another. These, to me, are indicators of self-confidence, but instead of having a positive affect on the opposite sex, I have found that most women feel intimidated by my self-led dynamics, and are actually turned off. What I think is being implied about the confidence myth, is that women are looking for men who display confidence towards the woman they are trying to court. In other words, they don't exactly want a "confidence man," but a man who has confidence in them.
It must be appealing to have someone who is willing to go out on a limb, risking rejection, singling out that one particular person, and settling on them. On the obverse side, I haven't encountered very many women who exhibit self-confidence on that same level of risk and investment. Most women that I've met calculate the safest "bet" towards never losing face. Arrogance is often disguised as confidence. There are exceptional women who truly do exude self-confidence, who aren't swayed by the hype of the moment, and who do not base their style solely around what the opposite sex thinks. These are the women who I am most attracted to.
3. Women like nice guys.
***This is one of the easiest myths to blow out of the water. The idea of a nice guy is, well...nice, but I have found that ultimately, acts of kindness, and indeed, a nice demeanor can backfire. Kindness can be misinterpreted as weakness, and if this "game" is truly a competitive one (which it is), the guy who is willing to do anything to get the girl will win in the end.
Persistence pays, and speaks more clearly than the soft-spoken, principled guy who is in touch with his feelings. As far as I can tell, most women want a man who is gentle enough to read her poetry, but savage enough to kill the spiders in the house; a man who is sensitive enough to cry, but not too much; a man who is strong enough to fight for her, but not if he acts too macho; a man who opens doors for her, but not if it takes away from her independence; a man who is charismatic enough to win over any woman, but is single-mindedly committed to her; a man who is a world class scholar, athlete, and philosopher, yet comfortably fits into the stereotypical mold of mindless, sex-driven male when it's convenient...Obviously, no one wants to be with someone who treats them like shit. But I find it very interesting how many women there are (men too!), who attach themselves to someone who has very little regard towards them.
How many times have I lost a woman to the guy who showed a little more edge, a little more rebelliousness, a willingness to break a few more rules? In my experience, nice guys do finish last, if at all.
4. Women are attracted to men who can provide security.
***This, sadly is not a myth. In my encounters, I have witnessed the paradox of women who simultaneously seek a life where they are respected as equals (emerging from a very sexist culture) and who also seek after men with a certain financial status. How is it that a particular man's attractiveness can increase exponentially when it is discovered that he is financially well-off? What this alludes to, is the greater concept of status improvement.
I think that the most attractive quality women look for in a man, is his status, and if his status can help elevate hers. It seems like some people are more interested in the false-virtue of having someone, anyone that helps them look good, regardless of how healthy or un-healthy the relationship may, or may not be. As long as your partner has an acceptable image to the friends and family in your immediate circle, little else matters, at least on the surface. For instance, one of the first questions typically asked by friends and family of a potential courtier is: What does he do? This is a thinly disguised question that really means: How much money does he make? This happens to be one area that I definitely see disparity between the way the sexes operate. I argue that a man's financial status is more important to a woman, than a woman's is to a man. As well as: job status, driving status, societal status, and social status in general.
What's wrong with wanting to be with someone who is important, and respected, and financially well-off? Nothing inherently, but when it ranks among the top qualities that women look for in men, I question the genuineness of the woman. She bases her value system on superficial aspects, much like the man who puts a heavy emphasis on how physically attractive they want their woman to be. But I still wonder: Why would a woman want to be strong enough to rise above the oppression of a so-called "male dominated world," while simultaneously holding onto the hope for a man who will be a "good provider?" If you ask me, this concept diminishes the empowerment a person can achieve by remaining strong within themselves.
So...to sum up, much of my angst towards these gender games arises from wanting to live in a world that has progressed beyond simplistic stereotypical, traditional gender roles. I am an advocate of being yourself. If you feel compelled to do something, do it, but not out of a robotic tendency to "fit in." If you are attracted to someone, look at the possible reasons why. Instead of looking for power symbols in the form of a romantic partner, why not develop inner strength? This may lead to finding someone who is genuinely strong themselves. If this quest to find compatibility between the sexes is indeed a "game," why not make a new game with new rules? That's what I intend to do; I think the current one sucks...
My particular beef with the "Game," is that lately, it has become unsatisfying. I find myself at a place where the choices of potential partners seems endless, due to my proximity to a large portion of the female population. But are there really more choices? From my observations, it seems that many people get funneled together, performing courtship rituals using a value system invoked by society. Many of these concepts have felt unnatural to me, and when I have tried to adhere to the socially acceptable model that has been presented to me, it felt contrived. The closer I look into what it actually takes to win-over the opposite sex, the dynamics involved, the more disconnected I feel.
The crux of the "Game" relies on the fundamental principle that men and women are essentially estranged, and appear as mysterious creatures to one another. Oh, how many times I have marveled at the seemingly deep mysteries that surround the opposite sex! But these days, I think that the mystery is only superficial, and that deep down, men and women represent more analogous creatures that have been conditioned to operate in an environment that is both confusing and contradictory. Both men and women represent virtually the same mystery to each other. Both sexes are trying to figure the other one out, in order to get a "1up" on the other in the "Game."
This pitting of man vs. woman is set up like a game, complete with rules both spoken and unspoken. When I recently told a friend of mine about my frustrations, he reinforced to me, many of the principles of modern courtship that I find loathsome. Essentially, I feel as if I have been bombarded with other peoples' myths regarding how one should act around the opposite sex. I will list some of these principles, and comment on them as follows:
1. Don't expect the lady to come to you; it's up to the man to show initial interest and approach the female.
***The whole point behind this is the archaic concept of out-dated gender roles. Men are expected to "hit on" women, thus cementing their caricatures as predators, and the women are the "deciders" as to which men they will fend off. The pursuing man (or woman, in some cases) must present value to the other person, "selling" themselves in a certain way. Why should I be the "one" who must present value? In our society, why is that burden put mostly on the male shoulders? Why not initially the female? It seems as if women are deemed inherently "valuable," and men are pre-positioned to have to "prove" their value as an incentive for the woman to be interested.
Many women are used to getting "hit on," so they become accustomed to expecting a prospective male to "make the moves." And subsequently, if a man doesn't act in the role of the aggressor, then he is deemed somewhat emasculate by the standards of our society. This type of gender posturing has an additional negative effect of creating the presumption that any encounter initiated by a man must mean that he is romantically interested. I find it difficult at times to engage in casual conversations with strangers, because they presume from the start, that I have sexual intentions (whether I do, or not). It's hard to pay an earnest compliment when most of the time, it is perceived as a "pick-up."
The reality is that a person (man or woman) will seek out the kinds of experiences they want, including the types of people they bring into their lives. I find it interesting how quickly and easily some women embrace the role of the aggressor when they find a man that they are interested in. If one is holding out for the other to make the first move, then they are essentially holding onto a fabricated notion of an ideal fantasy. For others, it's the thrill of the "hunt" that they enjoy. Personally, I have found encounters where there is an obvious mutual interest and exchange to be the most satisfying. I don't feel like I have to "sell" myself, or act like someone I'm not, just to attract the opposite sex.
2. Women are attracted to men who are confident about themselves.
***This is one of the more cliched notions of gender dynamics, and at least, a superficially acceptable concept. Who wants to be with someone who isn't confident? But sadly, I believe that this concept has become propagandized and relegated to a mere bumper sticker slogan.
Take me for instance; I am one of the most confident people that I know. I am confident in myself, in the direction my life is going. I have taken significant measures to develop my personality and have spent an exceptional amount of time soul-searching. I know what I want, where I'm going, and who I am. I am confident enough to go to a movie alone, or eat at a restaurant solo, or go to a bar without the company of another. These, to me, are indicators of self-confidence, but instead of having a positive affect on the opposite sex, I have found that most women feel intimidated by my self-led dynamics, and are actually turned off. What I think is being implied about the confidence myth, is that women are looking for men who display confidence towards the woman they are trying to court. In other words, they don't exactly want a "confidence man," but a man who has confidence in them.
It must be appealing to have someone who is willing to go out on a limb, risking rejection, singling out that one particular person, and settling on them. On the obverse side, I haven't encountered very many women who exhibit self-confidence on that same level of risk and investment. Most women that I've met calculate the safest "bet" towards never losing face. Arrogance is often disguised as confidence. There are exceptional women who truly do exude self-confidence, who aren't swayed by the hype of the moment, and who do not base their style solely around what the opposite sex thinks. These are the women who I am most attracted to.
3. Women like nice guys.
***This is one of the easiest myths to blow out of the water. The idea of a nice guy is, well...nice, but I have found that ultimately, acts of kindness, and indeed, a nice demeanor can backfire. Kindness can be misinterpreted as weakness, and if this "game" is truly a competitive one (which it is), the guy who is willing to do anything to get the girl will win in the end.
Persistence pays, and speaks more clearly than the soft-spoken, principled guy who is in touch with his feelings. As far as I can tell, most women want a man who is gentle enough to read her poetry, but savage enough to kill the spiders in the house; a man who is sensitive enough to cry, but not too much; a man who is strong enough to fight for her, but not if he acts too macho; a man who opens doors for her, but not if it takes away from her independence; a man who is charismatic enough to win over any woman, but is single-mindedly committed to her; a man who is a world class scholar, athlete, and philosopher, yet comfortably fits into the stereotypical mold of mindless, sex-driven male when it's convenient...Obviously, no one wants to be with someone who treats them like shit. But I find it very interesting how many women there are (men too!), who attach themselves to someone who has very little regard towards them.
How many times have I lost a woman to the guy who showed a little more edge, a little more rebelliousness, a willingness to break a few more rules? In my experience, nice guys do finish last, if at all.
4. Women are attracted to men who can provide security.
***This, sadly is not a myth. In my encounters, I have witnessed the paradox of women who simultaneously seek a life where they are respected as equals (emerging from a very sexist culture) and who also seek after men with a certain financial status. How is it that a particular man's attractiveness can increase exponentially when it is discovered that he is financially well-off? What this alludes to, is the greater concept of status improvement.
I think that the most attractive quality women look for in a man, is his status, and if his status can help elevate hers. It seems like some people are more interested in the false-virtue of having someone, anyone that helps them look good, regardless of how healthy or un-healthy the relationship may, or may not be. As long as your partner has an acceptable image to the friends and family in your immediate circle, little else matters, at least on the surface. For instance, one of the first questions typically asked by friends and family of a potential courtier is: What does he do? This is a thinly disguised question that really means: How much money does he make? This happens to be one area that I definitely see disparity between the way the sexes operate. I argue that a man's financial status is more important to a woman, than a woman's is to a man. As well as: job status, driving status, societal status, and social status in general.
What's wrong with wanting to be with someone who is important, and respected, and financially well-off? Nothing inherently, but when it ranks among the top qualities that women look for in men, I question the genuineness of the woman. She bases her value system on superficial aspects, much like the man who puts a heavy emphasis on how physically attractive they want their woman to be. But I still wonder: Why would a woman want to be strong enough to rise above the oppression of a so-called "male dominated world," while simultaneously holding onto the hope for a man who will be a "good provider?" If you ask me, this concept diminishes the empowerment a person can achieve by remaining strong within themselves.
So...to sum up, much of my angst towards these gender games arises from wanting to live in a world that has progressed beyond simplistic stereotypical, traditional gender roles. I am an advocate of being yourself. If you feel compelled to do something, do it, but not out of a robotic tendency to "fit in." If you are attracted to someone, look at the possible reasons why. Instead of looking for power symbols in the form of a romantic partner, why not develop inner strength? This may lead to finding someone who is genuinely strong themselves. If this quest to find compatibility between the sexes is indeed a "game," why not make a new game with new rules? That's what I intend to do; I think the current one sucks...
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Past Life Experiment - Episode 004 - The Crossroads of Consequence
It was a time of great consequence, many paths converging, melding, virtually crashing into one another. It was a crossroads of sorts, a metaphysical location in time where the potential for other possibilities, different potentialities, alternate timelines was imminent, acute, uncanny.
Even more uncanny was my awareness of how tumultuous these converging and diverging paths were, like the absolute certainty of when one loses their balance, teetering beyond rational control. These were times of great change and upheaval in my life, and I was swept away by the overwhelming current of it.
It was around the time of early spring 2008. I was still not quite yet 30 years old, and I was fresh into a crescendo of good times, in relationships, matters of work, and in my Capitol Hill lifestyle. I had started the New Year ringing and singing with my fellows from the Longview Pub. This had always been a favorite karaoke haunt of mine, and during that night, after all the regulars were scuttled out at closing time, the barmaid and her man threw an after-party in their loft above the bar. It was almost surreal to be sitting in a living room above the Longview Pub, drinking, passing around from couple-to-couple while we all sang ‘Let It Be,’ wondering and hoping what the next year might entail. It was like stepping into a time machine for an instant, and I finally understood how some music really could unite people. There are just some songs that are timeless, and I could remember thinking that this was one of those moments that would stand out, and even then I felt the tremors of upcoming change, peeking over the horizon like a wink of sunrise.
This was how my year started out; I was finally willing and ready to wash off the residue from 2007, that year having been mostly concerned with affairs of Angela Schroder, of love and of loss. I started Synfonica at about that time, carrying my notebook with me to late-night hamburger joints, and just about everywhere I went, using it as a placemat during one of my many karaoke sessions at the Longview Pub, me and my fellows crammed into our favorite booth mafia style. It was a time of beginnings, alliances being formed, ideas being forged, tossed around the magic circle like untempered fireworks, almost too hot to handle.
So my notebook was always with me, and I carried it like a kind of shield. This was to protect me from seeping too far into the past and all the hurt that it held for me. The doomed relationship with Angela had left me feeling alone and bewildered, and now was the time of re-awakening from that slump. Writing Synfonica was my way of dealing with the past, by paving my way forward into the future, much of the book a clandestine autobiographical account of my feelings regarding her, and of things magical. I was using my painful experiences to create something beautiful and transcendent.
The beginning of 2008 also marked the glory days of our little band of wayward troubadours at the Pub. This was back when our relationships were free and a little flirty. We all came to revel in each others’ company and bear each others’ misery. This was before the nasty falling out between me and the Wilsons, when there was more black-and-white defining the contours of my ideas relationships, and less gray. This was when I still held on to naïve notions of fidelity, always believing that the institution of marriage, or my friends that embarked upon that road, were somehow above the trials and temptations presented by the world. They too fell under the enchantment of the Crossroads, and none of us were safe from its allure.
The momentum from that New Years’ night carried me for several weeks until that cataclysmic confrontation with Eve Wilson, the de facto ringleader of our little band. She was my good buddy Eddie’s wife of a couple of years. I was at their wedding, and was pleasantly surprised to develop a friendship with Eve, over the years, while also re-kindling my friendship with Eddie. We had been in a band together with Kaiser Morningstar before I moved out of state for a while, and hadn’t really kept in touch, and now that I was back, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed Eddie’s friendship.
It’s clear why me and Eve were such easy friends. She was easy to talk to, intellectual, funny, and seemingly down-to-Earth. We tip-toed around each other at first, respecting each others’ role in the object of our mutual interest, Eddie. As we came to know each other better, we would hang out independent of Eddie, talking for long periods into the night, and I was happy to have her as a friend. But there is a good reason as to why a man should not become friends with his buddy’s wife. No matter how innocent your intentions might be, the door is open for things to go wrong, and they could go wrong and often do.
I remember there being a bit of quiet intrigue amongst our group concerning the fabled book I wrote for Angela, Somewhere In Time. When I presented it to Eve for her inspection before I was to give it to Angela, I remember her acting a little weird, almost like she was jealous over Angela. I had dismissed it at the time, but then Eve started murmuring darkly about troubles in her marriage with Eddie. In fact, she brought these disclosures to our group at the Pub, to add to the stew of dysfunctional relationship woes on the table. I was caught in a dilemma between my loyalty to Eddie, and wanting to be a sounding board for Eve.
She talked about how badly she wanted children, about how Eddie had become increasingly distant and disengaged from their life, and that he would hold his true feelings inside. I was often caught off guard at each revelation that there was trouble in Wilsonville. Eddie and Eve had seemed like they were perfect for each other, both having a great fetish towards anything Star Wars related, both were heavily into music, and were from each others’ era. In fact, they had built their own music studio/karaoke hangout in their basement that we had affectionately called “Club Wilson.” They both found each other at a time in their lives when a relationship seemed out of reach, Eddie having sworn them off completely. When I had first met him, he would preach all of the virtues of bachelorhood to Kaiser and myself, admonishing us to remain single and true. That was right around the time when I moved out to Ohio. Eddie’s one-night exploits had been legendary, and that’s how I remembered him. When I was away, however, I heard distant rumors that some lady had caught him in her snares. After I moved back to Denver, I was anxious to meet the woman who had knocked Eddie off of his single trip, and when I met her, I honestly didn’t think much of Eve. It is easy to underestimate her, and that is part of her guile, as I later found out. They seemed like a match made in heaven, but the storybook facade of what I thought was a great marriage between them began to melt away like wax figures caught in a house of fire.
This crisis came to a critical junction right around Valentine’s Day, 2008. Eve and her best friend Viola wound up running the karaoke gig at the Longview Pub. I had noticed that Eve had been wearing more and more provocative outfits to the Pub, and that she would often creep out to the parking lot with strange guys for periods of time. I would go out there with her sometimes, and we would sit and talk and smoke. I could tell that there was an attraction there. I was certainly attracted to her, but in a mostly cerebral way; you can’t spend so much time investing in a friendship and not be somewhat attracted to the other person.
On the night of Valentine’s 2008, I was handed a bright pink envelope by Eve in the parking lot of the Pub. I immediately felt a drop in my gut, and as I opened it, reading the handmade valentine, I was caught by a strange urge to flee from the spot. Maybe that’s what I should have done, but what’s done is done. The Crossroads offer the vantage point of seeing many different possible paths to take, but once one has been chosen, the reality of that choice crystallizes, and for good or ill, one must live with that choice.
I shifted my eyes from side to side, feeling uneasy. The card felt dirty hanging in my limp hand. I gave her a perfunctory thanks and hustled back inside, hoping to lose the feeling of weirdness amongst the laughter and joviality of our group. There was a woman in our group, Janine, a doll that I frequently flirted with, and whom I had hoped would take me home that night. Eve came in a short while later saying, “We need to talk,” as if we were a bickering couple. And then the real bickering and arguing took place as we yelled at each other out in the parking lot, and for the first time, I got to see the real Eve; and her fury, the emotion most likely reserved for Eddie when they fought behind the scenes. So this is what it must be like for him, I thought. I was suddenly enraged with the revelation that she was treating me like a cheating husband, like I somehow owed her something. And all of the memories came flooding in, all of the many times that we had hung out, talked, all the gestures that I had taken as genuine friendship, and all of the ways I had genuinely demonstrated the same, all coming clear in the real context, in her real agenda. One husband to pick on and yell at wasn’t enough for her; she wanted more than just one.
“I saw you flirting with Janine. Is she going to take you home tonight?” This was a code term for having sex. I wasn’t driving then, and I would take a bus to the Pub and usually someone would offer me a ride home, after the busses stopped running. If I was lucky, the ride home might turn into more. Eve had been giving me rides home as of late, and now I understood why.
“You need to work out your problems with Eddie,” I grumbled, hoping to shift her attention onto the real issue.
“You want me out of the way so you can fuck Janine, is that it?”
“It’s none of your business!” I retorted, getting more pissed off. “Anyways, what’s wrong with Janine? I thought you liked Janine!”
“I’m just looking out for her. So you don’t fuck her and leave her like you do all the rest.”
I could feel my face filling with molten rock. “That’s not how I am,” I grit, straining to keep my voice calm. This whole conversation was absurd and getting nowhere. “You know what? I don’t answer to you. I’m not married. You are. You took that plunge, remember? I didn’t.”
“I know how you really are; I know because I’ve watched you go from woman to woman, and I know that you’re going to treat Janine just like the rest of them.“ Then she went on to say, “I can’t have you coming here anymore, ruining my reputation. I’m trying to run a karaoke show. Your presence is too disruptive.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I reply, turning to go back inside.
“You’re a coward…” she hissed after me, barely audible from the raucous sounds of the bar, as I swirled back inside.
The rest of the night, Eve spent away from our group, giving me disdainful looks melodramatically across the room from the bar, to which I ignored. My friends at the table were wondering what the hell Eve’s problem was, and apparently, they had had previous experience with her aggressive mood swings. This was all new to me, never before having to bear the brunt of her malice.
“She’s fucking married,” I reasoned with them, and they agreed, nodding their heads sympathetically. This episode, I came to learn later, was just another checkpoint along Eve’s roadmap towards a complete breakdown.
Sick of the drama, sick of being treated like the husband-that-never-was, sick of the smell and feel of the Pub, the unholy pull of the place, and the dark avenues it provided, I got up and started walking home, all warm thoughts of sexcapades with Janine forgotten. This encounter, and in fact the Pub itself, leaving a sour taste in my mouth, a bitterness that overshadowed my initial great start to the year.
I stayed away from the Pub for a time. This was not because of Eve’s dire warning for me to keep away from what she thought of as her joint, but rather because I needed to clear my head. My mind was whirling with the events of Valentine’s Day, the calamity brought on by Eve’s destruction, the loss of her friendship, or at least the person I thought she was, and the undeniable rift that it would cause between me and Eddie. If Eddie and Eve were still having problems, I wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of it. 2008 had already dumped its share of drama on me, and I was ready to move on. But then the rumors started, as annoying and persistent as a leaky faucet. First I heard it from some of my friends who still went to the Pub.
“What happened between you and Eve?” was the most common query, definitely not alluding to the more innocent interpretation of what had happened between us.
“She gave me a fucking valentine. You saw it,” was my reply, growing less and less patient. They looked at me as if I were deliberately trying to be dense. Obviously they had been under the impression that more had transpired between me and Eve. There had always been a spirit of flirtation amongst the members of our little singing group; it was one element of the escapism we had sought, but this was going too far.
“Why, what did she say?” The looks on their faces was all I needed to know.
Terri spoke up, “We all know she’s a liar anyways. She went off on me too.” This bit of information took me by surprise. “She is deeply troubled. She’s been going off in this direction for some time now. I’ve been putting up with her, but last week when she yelled at me…she thought I was defending you, and when I told her I wasn’t, she said some things that crossed the line for me.”
What I hadn’t told them is that Eve had been trying to reach me through e-mail. She was very persistent, and I knew on some level that any further communication with her would most likely end up in further enmity. My position with Eve was that the stronger she tried to engage me, the further I would withdraw. This tactic seemed to infuriate her, much to my delight.
“I don’t know what her problem is,” I said, shaking my head.
“She’s disturbed. I love her and hope the best for her, but she’s going to have to deal with her problems without turning on her friends,” Terri implored.
“Why don’t you come back to the Pub?” This was Janine. “Don’t let Eve bully you out of here.”
“I’m not letting her tell me where I can and can’t go!” I replied, a little defensively. “I just need a break for a while,” I said, looking past Janine and the others, thinking of how simple things used to be. How fun going to the Longview Pub had been.
My karaoke buddies weren’t the only source of scandalous mutterings. Kaiser Morningstar had called me up shortly after the “Big Blow-up,” as I was beginning to call it.
“So…what’s been going on?” I could hear caution and eagerness coming from his voice through the earpiece. By this fact alone, I knew that Eve had already gotten to him. Maybe she had even tried to seduce him as well. Here was another close friend of Eddie’s who had spent just as much one-on-one time with his wife, sharing in that all-important rite of information exchange known as intimacy. And as long as I’ve known him, the Kaiser liked to have his own little side affairs, which was another nail in the coffin towards breaking my beliefs in lasting relationships. Here were some of my closest friends, involved in these mutually beneficial relationships, yet they clearly sought succor from outside the relationship. Perhaps the institution of monogamy was inherently the problem.
“Nothin’ much,” was my reply. If my regard of Kaiser had been higher, I might have caved into his projections, but I wasn’t taking the bait.
“I haven’t talked to you in a while. I just wanted to see what was new.” Yeah, sure. My experience with the Kaiser is that he typically only called when he wanted something.
“Just doing my thing; you know, writing some new songs…I’ve been keeping a weblog…I’m getting ready to show some artwork…” And the conversation went on much like this for a while, both of us dodging the obvious topic that was on both of our minds.
“Have you talked to Eddie?” Ah, he was finally getting more to the point. I still played dumb.
“Not recently. I’m waiting to do some more recordings to finish up the album.” This was our collective long-standing music project that we had started before I moved to go to college, called Mandelbrot. It wasn’t fair to call it a band. It was far too lethargic to be a musical act geared towards playing live shows. We were definitely a studio act. It seemed that we were always working or re-working some aspect of this album. Although, through the years, Eddie had accumulated more recording equipment and technical knowledge, we were still no closer to having an actual finished product than in the days before I had moved.
“You haven’t talked to Eve, have you?” That uncharacteristic light tread in his voice, trying too hard to be casual.
“I used to see her when I went singing at the Pub…” I responded innocently, “a bit of a falling out, I’m afraid.”
“I heard some stuff...man, I didn’t say nothin’ ‘cause I was testin’ you. I wanted to see how you responded, to see if you’d tell me yourself. I did it on purpose. I didn’t believe it…no man, ‘cause she’s nasty. I know you wouldn’t touch that.”
I could hear the revulsion in his voice. I couldn’t explain that on some level I had been attracted to Eve, whether it was from mere intellectual stimulation or by keeping the company of crooked saints. In the wake of her meltdown, all remaining vestiges of the previous beauty I had seen in her had been obliterated, and the true ugliness of her being had been exposed.
“She doesn’t even want you in their house,” Kaiser went on, sounding amazed. “What happened?” How much should I tell him? I wondered. Kaiser wasn’t exactly the kind of person that could keep secrets, and when he inevitably spilled the beans, the resulting rumor would most likely be so distorted with Kaiser’s own exaggerations, that one was often worse off for telling him. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about the flirting that went on within our little group, innocent as it had been. That bit of information in the wrong hands could throw fuel on an already volatile situation.
So I told him about the valentine, and how she had blown up at me in the parking lot, and how she had pretty much alienated herself from all of her strongest supporters. Kaiser sounded dubious.
“She told me you were getting’ it on in your apt.” Ah, so finally here it was. The nasty truth of all the rumors that I had heard. Eve’s influence did indeed reach far.
“She gave me rides home a few times…and got pissed when I didn’t want her to give me rides anymore. You’d think she would’ve been happy about that,” I scoffed.
“She said you went up to your apt. and was there ‘til 8 in the morning. Eddie got pissed. She said it almost ruined her marriage. She hasn’t told him…yet. She just wants you to call her.”
This was an example of how pervasive Eve’s influence could be. She had gotten to Kaiser, somehow persuaded him into believing her sob story, probably using him for a shoulder to cry on like she had done me, and then she convinced him to try to get me to call her, all in an attempt for her to control me from a distance.
You see, Eve was a witch. A real witch. I didn’t find out this fact until I had crossed her. Perhaps her trickery wasn’t as readily apparent as what one might consider a conventional witch to be. There were no poisoned apples to eat, nor was there any pointy hat-wearing, broomstick-riding, overtly obvious hazards to avoid. Eve’s way of spellcasting was more subtle and insidious. She likes to create miniature empires and manipulate the players like a chess grandmaster moves a knight, rook, or queen. She had cast her dark magic, stirring up her cauldron of worries, stirring up trouble. Kaiser’s involvement was surely a sign of this, but then again, he always did have a soft spot for the split-tails.
“Ruined her marriage, did I?” I said, my anger building up like bile. As long as Eve was going to spew out her skewed version of events, I was going to expound upon what I thought were the real issues. “What I want to know is: What is a married woman doing out that late without her husband? Or for that matter, what married man lets his wife prance around at all hours of the night, anyway? She gave me a fucking valentine!” I finished, as if this point hadn’t already been made.
“I know. That’s fucked up. Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, and the only reason I kept it is for evidence in case I need it.”
“Damn…you might need it. Eddie’s gonna be pissed if he ever finds out. It’s probably better if you don’t bring it up. Let him bring it up first. And you’re sure nothing happened…I’ll believe you if you tell me. Just tell me...”
I thought of the night that Eve had driven me home. I thought of all the events and circumstances that had led up to that event, and the resulting ripples of chaos that had been created. I was standing at the crossroads, my eyes scanning over the many possible roads before me. It was at these moments that I viewed myself as a traveler, seeking out the ends to these roads, wherever they wound up taking me. “It was nothing,” I said, choosing this route.
“What do you mean?” Kaiser, sounding cautious again.
“You know how it is at the Pub…” I explained, “…how our group is.” Now I was baiting him, and the best part was that he didn’t know it. “You remember that one time you came...when you hooked up with Janine.” This indeed had happened, and on New Years’ night up above the Pub. This was the one time Kaiser had gotten a taste of our clique. He had met Janine, and within a matter of hours, he had charmed and seduced her in that fabulously mysterious way of his, and the two of them had snuck off to some secluded corner of the loft, where they did whatever it was that they had done. “Her hair smelled so good,” he proclaimed, almost apologetically, after he had returned from their act.
“Of course I remember,” he muttered. I could tell that he wasn’t happy with me bringing up his tryst with Janine. It was the perfect distraction to take the focus from me to him. “I would never do that again,” he continued, sounding like the school bully trying to talk his way out of a detention. “I’m in love with Cheri. It’s not like it was before; the love I feel for her…it’s…deeper than what I’ve ever felt. I don’t even need sex anymore. I’ve grown beyond sex.”
This proclamation was a lie. This was Kaiser’s way of justifying his continued relationship with Cheri, a woman who was gorgeous, smart, funny, and bizarrely faithful to Kaiser, but not very interested in having sex, at least with him. They had been together for 6 years, and I had been witness to Kaiser vacillating between wanting to marry her and wanting to ditch her. His big reason for staying with Cheri was that he didn’t want to start over, having to get new furniture, etc. So apparently, his relationship of convenience with Cheri enabled him with all sorts of opportunities to continue his peacockishness, including his shopping sprees to buy extravagant leathers and designer jewelry. Of course he would have been a fool to leave her; she was certainly the most supportive of Kaiser’s girlfriends, the most together mentally and financially, the coolest all around, and seemed to not mind the mountains of bullshit Kaiser seemed to generate all around him. All that seemed to be missing was the sex, an issue that he certainly had his way of dealing with.
“Now we won’t talk about that then. It’s like it never happened, o.k.?” This was Kaiser’s version of a Jedi mind trick; the power of suggestion to the weak-minded. I had seen this work on women in the clubs to often miraculous results, but I knew him well enough to see through his tricks.
“O.K. man, no worries.” I replied this way not because I agreed with his methodology or supported his infidelity, but because I considered him a friend. And unlike him, I knew how to keep secrets. And where did he come off judging me, with his sorted history and all? Hell, if you wanted to get technical about it, I was the only legitimately single one in this whole mess. I wasn’t the one who took the vows, like so many of my friends had done.
“But hey…” he said. Now it was his turn to change the subject. “I was gonna tell you ‘bout this girl I know. She works at the city clinic with Cheri. I wanted you two to meet. I don’t know man…I’ve got this strange feeling…she feels different somehow…I think you two will get along…,” he ranted in his typical manic fashion. “Here I go playing Mr. Matchmaker again,” he crooned in a falsely sarcastic way.
I had already become used to Kaiser taking credit for milestone occurrences in my life, whether they be relationships that he had a part in introducing, or attaching his name onto an idea that I had come up with, or attaching my name onto one of his ideas in order to give it more credibility. When it came to entitlement, Kaiser wasn’t ever bashful at naming and claiming.
I’ve discovered that this too is a form of sorcery. The human brain is susceptible to all sorts of suggestions, and like the art of the Jedi Mind Trick, claiming things over people’s lives is a form of inflicting your will upon others. Kaiser was a master at this tactic, but in order for it to work, the victim has to be weak-minded, or easily manipulated, and must consciously/subconsciously agree with the party making suggestions. This was the mysterious gift that he possessed; he had a way with words, and no matter how bi-polar an argument with him became, he had this way of getting the last word in, so that it seemed that all involved parties agreed with him.
If it had been 10 years ago, during the beginnings of our friendship, I would have been taken in by these mind tricks. In those days, I was under Kaiser’s wing, and was his wingman. He came rolling into Colorado like some sort of mythical creature, part saint and part devil. I’m sure that he appears this way to all of his new friends; grandiose and exotic in a larger-than-life sort of way. From the time that I met him, I knew there was something special about him. In the early days he was more humble about his gifts, and that is why him and I had become such fast friends in those days.
But so much had clouded what that friendship had become to signify over the years. I had long since crawled out from his shadow and had come into my own. The problem was that Kaiser seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed. I had begun to build a pretty respectable reputation both as an artist and a session musician, and my goals and his goals began to diverge at some crucial point. We had met at the Crossroads, walked along the path together for awhile, and enjoyed each other’s company while it lasted, but like so many things in life, friendships can be fleeting and bittersweet.
I should have known not to trust Kaiser’s matchmaking instincts, as his previous attempts had turned out to be massive failures, including the friend of a friend that he had set me up with on a blind date, who I ended up proposing to, and we split up after being together for a mere four months. Perhaps it was the strange mood that had set over the early parts of 2008. Perhaps it was the tinge of spite I felt towards Eve that sent me rocketing in any direction, as long as it was away from her. Maybe it was my self-masochistic way of testing fate. Whatever the case, I abandoned my better judgment to this particular meandering road along the Crossroads, and I had no idea just how consequential that choice would be...
Even more uncanny was my awareness of how tumultuous these converging and diverging paths were, like the absolute certainty of when one loses their balance, teetering beyond rational control. These were times of great change and upheaval in my life, and I was swept away by the overwhelming current of it.
It was around the time of early spring 2008. I was still not quite yet 30 years old, and I was fresh into a crescendo of good times, in relationships, matters of work, and in my Capitol Hill lifestyle. I had started the New Year ringing and singing with my fellows from the Longview Pub. This had always been a favorite karaoke haunt of mine, and during that night, after all the regulars were scuttled out at closing time, the barmaid and her man threw an after-party in their loft above the bar. It was almost surreal to be sitting in a living room above the Longview Pub, drinking, passing around from couple-to-couple while we all sang ‘Let It Be,’ wondering and hoping what the next year might entail. It was like stepping into a time machine for an instant, and I finally understood how some music really could unite people. There are just some songs that are timeless, and I could remember thinking that this was one of those moments that would stand out, and even then I felt the tremors of upcoming change, peeking over the horizon like a wink of sunrise.
This was how my year started out; I was finally willing and ready to wash off the residue from 2007, that year having been mostly concerned with affairs of Angela Schroder, of love and of loss. I started Synfonica at about that time, carrying my notebook with me to late-night hamburger joints, and just about everywhere I went, using it as a placemat during one of my many karaoke sessions at the Longview Pub, me and my fellows crammed into our favorite booth mafia style. It was a time of beginnings, alliances being formed, ideas being forged, tossed around the magic circle like untempered fireworks, almost too hot to handle.
So my notebook was always with me, and I carried it like a kind of shield. This was to protect me from seeping too far into the past and all the hurt that it held for me. The doomed relationship with Angela had left me feeling alone and bewildered, and now was the time of re-awakening from that slump. Writing Synfonica was my way of dealing with the past, by paving my way forward into the future, much of the book a clandestine autobiographical account of my feelings regarding her, and of things magical. I was using my painful experiences to create something beautiful and transcendent.
The beginning of 2008 also marked the glory days of our little band of wayward troubadours at the Pub. This was back when our relationships were free and a little flirty. We all came to revel in each others’ company and bear each others’ misery. This was before the nasty falling out between me and the Wilsons, when there was more black-and-white defining the contours of my ideas relationships, and less gray. This was when I still held on to naïve notions of fidelity, always believing that the institution of marriage, or my friends that embarked upon that road, were somehow above the trials and temptations presented by the world. They too fell under the enchantment of the Crossroads, and none of us were safe from its allure.
The momentum from that New Years’ night carried me for several weeks until that cataclysmic confrontation with Eve Wilson, the de facto ringleader of our little band. She was my good buddy Eddie’s wife of a couple of years. I was at their wedding, and was pleasantly surprised to develop a friendship with Eve, over the years, while also re-kindling my friendship with Eddie. We had been in a band together with Kaiser Morningstar before I moved out of state for a while, and hadn’t really kept in touch, and now that I was back, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed Eddie’s friendship.
It’s clear why me and Eve were such easy friends. She was easy to talk to, intellectual, funny, and seemingly down-to-Earth. We tip-toed around each other at first, respecting each others’ role in the object of our mutual interest, Eddie. As we came to know each other better, we would hang out independent of Eddie, talking for long periods into the night, and I was happy to have her as a friend. But there is a good reason as to why a man should not become friends with his buddy’s wife. No matter how innocent your intentions might be, the door is open for things to go wrong, and they could go wrong and often do.
I remember there being a bit of quiet intrigue amongst our group concerning the fabled book I wrote for Angela, Somewhere In Time. When I presented it to Eve for her inspection before I was to give it to Angela, I remember her acting a little weird, almost like she was jealous over Angela. I had dismissed it at the time, but then Eve started murmuring darkly about troubles in her marriage with Eddie. In fact, she brought these disclosures to our group at the Pub, to add to the stew of dysfunctional relationship woes on the table. I was caught in a dilemma between my loyalty to Eddie, and wanting to be a sounding board for Eve.
She talked about how badly she wanted children, about how Eddie had become increasingly distant and disengaged from their life, and that he would hold his true feelings inside. I was often caught off guard at each revelation that there was trouble in Wilsonville. Eddie and Eve had seemed like they were perfect for each other, both having a great fetish towards anything Star Wars related, both were heavily into music, and were from each others’ era. In fact, they had built their own music studio/karaoke hangout in their basement that we had affectionately called “Club Wilson.” They both found each other at a time in their lives when a relationship seemed out of reach, Eddie having sworn them off completely. When I had first met him, he would preach all of the virtues of bachelorhood to Kaiser and myself, admonishing us to remain single and true. That was right around the time when I moved out to Ohio. Eddie’s one-night exploits had been legendary, and that’s how I remembered him. When I was away, however, I heard distant rumors that some lady had caught him in her snares. After I moved back to Denver, I was anxious to meet the woman who had knocked Eddie off of his single trip, and when I met her, I honestly didn’t think much of Eve. It is easy to underestimate her, and that is part of her guile, as I later found out. They seemed like a match made in heaven, but the storybook facade of what I thought was a great marriage between them began to melt away like wax figures caught in a house of fire.
This crisis came to a critical junction right around Valentine’s Day, 2008. Eve and her best friend Viola wound up running the karaoke gig at the Longview Pub. I had noticed that Eve had been wearing more and more provocative outfits to the Pub, and that she would often creep out to the parking lot with strange guys for periods of time. I would go out there with her sometimes, and we would sit and talk and smoke. I could tell that there was an attraction there. I was certainly attracted to her, but in a mostly cerebral way; you can’t spend so much time investing in a friendship and not be somewhat attracted to the other person.
On the night of Valentine’s 2008, I was handed a bright pink envelope by Eve in the parking lot of the Pub. I immediately felt a drop in my gut, and as I opened it, reading the handmade valentine, I was caught by a strange urge to flee from the spot. Maybe that’s what I should have done, but what’s done is done. The Crossroads offer the vantage point of seeing many different possible paths to take, but once one has been chosen, the reality of that choice crystallizes, and for good or ill, one must live with that choice.
I shifted my eyes from side to side, feeling uneasy. The card felt dirty hanging in my limp hand. I gave her a perfunctory thanks and hustled back inside, hoping to lose the feeling of weirdness amongst the laughter and joviality of our group. There was a woman in our group, Janine, a doll that I frequently flirted with, and whom I had hoped would take me home that night. Eve came in a short while later saying, “We need to talk,” as if we were a bickering couple. And then the real bickering and arguing took place as we yelled at each other out in the parking lot, and for the first time, I got to see the real Eve; and her fury, the emotion most likely reserved for Eddie when they fought behind the scenes. So this is what it must be like for him, I thought. I was suddenly enraged with the revelation that she was treating me like a cheating husband, like I somehow owed her something. And all of the memories came flooding in, all of the many times that we had hung out, talked, all the gestures that I had taken as genuine friendship, and all of the ways I had genuinely demonstrated the same, all coming clear in the real context, in her real agenda. One husband to pick on and yell at wasn’t enough for her; she wanted more than just one.
“I saw you flirting with Janine. Is she going to take you home tonight?” This was a code term for having sex. I wasn’t driving then, and I would take a bus to the Pub and usually someone would offer me a ride home, after the busses stopped running. If I was lucky, the ride home might turn into more. Eve had been giving me rides home as of late, and now I understood why.
“You need to work out your problems with Eddie,” I grumbled, hoping to shift her attention onto the real issue.
“You want me out of the way so you can fuck Janine, is that it?”
“It’s none of your business!” I retorted, getting more pissed off. “Anyways, what’s wrong with Janine? I thought you liked Janine!”
“I’m just looking out for her. So you don’t fuck her and leave her like you do all the rest.”
I could feel my face filling with molten rock. “That’s not how I am,” I grit, straining to keep my voice calm. This whole conversation was absurd and getting nowhere. “You know what? I don’t answer to you. I’m not married. You are. You took that plunge, remember? I didn’t.”
“I know how you really are; I know because I’ve watched you go from woman to woman, and I know that you’re going to treat Janine just like the rest of them.“ Then she went on to say, “I can’t have you coming here anymore, ruining my reputation. I’m trying to run a karaoke show. Your presence is too disruptive.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I reply, turning to go back inside.
“You’re a coward…” she hissed after me, barely audible from the raucous sounds of the bar, as I swirled back inside.
The rest of the night, Eve spent away from our group, giving me disdainful looks melodramatically across the room from the bar, to which I ignored. My friends at the table were wondering what the hell Eve’s problem was, and apparently, they had had previous experience with her aggressive mood swings. This was all new to me, never before having to bear the brunt of her malice.
“She’s fucking married,” I reasoned with them, and they agreed, nodding their heads sympathetically. This episode, I came to learn later, was just another checkpoint along Eve’s roadmap towards a complete breakdown.
Sick of the drama, sick of being treated like the husband-that-never-was, sick of the smell and feel of the Pub, the unholy pull of the place, and the dark avenues it provided, I got up and started walking home, all warm thoughts of sexcapades with Janine forgotten. This encounter, and in fact the Pub itself, leaving a sour taste in my mouth, a bitterness that overshadowed my initial great start to the year.
I stayed away from the Pub for a time. This was not because of Eve’s dire warning for me to keep away from what she thought of as her joint, but rather because I needed to clear my head. My mind was whirling with the events of Valentine’s Day, the calamity brought on by Eve’s destruction, the loss of her friendship, or at least the person I thought she was, and the undeniable rift that it would cause between me and Eddie. If Eddie and Eve were still having problems, I wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of it. 2008 had already dumped its share of drama on me, and I was ready to move on. But then the rumors started, as annoying and persistent as a leaky faucet. First I heard it from some of my friends who still went to the Pub.
“What happened between you and Eve?” was the most common query, definitely not alluding to the more innocent interpretation of what had happened between us.
“She gave me a fucking valentine. You saw it,” was my reply, growing less and less patient. They looked at me as if I were deliberately trying to be dense. Obviously they had been under the impression that more had transpired between me and Eve. There had always been a spirit of flirtation amongst the members of our little singing group; it was one element of the escapism we had sought, but this was going too far.
“Why, what did she say?” The looks on their faces was all I needed to know.
Terri spoke up, “We all know she’s a liar anyways. She went off on me too.” This bit of information took me by surprise. “She is deeply troubled. She’s been going off in this direction for some time now. I’ve been putting up with her, but last week when she yelled at me…she thought I was defending you, and when I told her I wasn’t, she said some things that crossed the line for me.”
What I hadn’t told them is that Eve had been trying to reach me through e-mail. She was very persistent, and I knew on some level that any further communication with her would most likely end up in further enmity. My position with Eve was that the stronger she tried to engage me, the further I would withdraw. This tactic seemed to infuriate her, much to my delight.
“I don’t know what her problem is,” I said, shaking my head.
“She’s disturbed. I love her and hope the best for her, but she’s going to have to deal with her problems without turning on her friends,” Terri implored.
“Why don’t you come back to the Pub?” This was Janine. “Don’t let Eve bully you out of here.”
“I’m not letting her tell me where I can and can’t go!” I replied, a little defensively. “I just need a break for a while,” I said, looking past Janine and the others, thinking of how simple things used to be. How fun going to the Longview Pub had been.
My karaoke buddies weren’t the only source of scandalous mutterings. Kaiser Morningstar had called me up shortly after the “Big Blow-up,” as I was beginning to call it.
“So…what’s been going on?” I could hear caution and eagerness coming from his voice through the earpiece. By this fact alone, I knew that Eve had already gotten to him. Maybe she had even tried to seduce him as well. Here was another close friend of Eddie’s who had spent just as much one-on-one time with his wife, sharing in that all-important rite of information exchange known as intimacy. And as long as I’ve known him, the Kaiser liked to have his own little side affairs, which was another nail in the coffin towards breaking my beliefs in lasting relationships. Here were some of my closest friends, involved in these mutually beneficial relationships, yet they clearly sought succor from outside the relationship. Perhaps the institution of monogamy was inherently the problem.
“Nothin’ much,” was my reply. If my regard of Kaiser had been higher, I might have caved into his projections, but I wasn’t taking the bait.
“I haven’t talked to you in a while. I just wanted to see what was new.” Yeah, sure. My experience with the Kaiser is that he typically only called when he wanted something.
“Just doing my thing; you know, writing some new songs…I’ve been keeping a weblog…I’m getting ready to show some artwork…” And the conversation went on much like this for a while, both of us dodging the obvious topic that was on both of our minds.
“Have you talked to Eddie?” Ah, he was finally getting more to the point. I still played dumb.
“Not recently. I’m waiting to do some more recordings to finish up the album.” This was our collective long-standing music project that we had started before I moved to go to college, called Mandelbrot. It wasn’t fair to call it a band. It was far too lethargic to be a musical act geared towards playing live shows. We were definitely a studio act. It seemed that we were always working or re-working some aspect of this album. Although, through the years, Eddie had accumulated more recording equipment and technical knowledge, we were still no closer to having an actual finished product than in the days before I had moved.
“You haven’t talked to Eve, have you?” That uncharacteristic light tread in his voice, trying too hard to be casual.
“I used to see her when I went singing at the Pub…” I responded innocently, “a bit of a falling out, I’m afraid.”
“I heard some stuff...man, I didn’t say nothin’ ‘cause I was testin’ you. I wanted to see how you responded, to see if you’d tell me yourself. I did it on purpose. I didn’t believe it…no man, ‘cause she’s nasty. I know you wouldn’t touch that.”
I could hear the revulsion in his voice. I couldn’t explain that on some level I had been attracted to Eve, whether it was from mere intellectual stimulation or by keeping the company of crooked saints. In the wake of her meltdown, all remaining vestiges of the previous beauty I had seen in her had been obliterated, and the true ugliness of her being had been exposed.
“She doesn’t even want you in their house,” Kaiser went on, sounding amazed. “What happened?” How much should I tell him? I wondered. Kaiser wasn’t exactly the kind of person that could keep secrets, and when he inevitably spilled the beans, the resulting rumor would most likely be so distorted with Kaiser’s own exaggerations, that one was often worse off for telling him. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about the flirting that went on within our little group, innocent as it had been. That bit of information in the wrong hands could throw fuel on an already volatile situation.
So I told him about the valentine, and how she had blown up at me in the parking lot, and how she had pretty much alienated herself from all of her strongest supporters. Kaiser sounded dubious.
“She told me you were getting’ it on in your apt.” Ah, so finally here it was. The nasty truth of all the rumors that I had heard. Eve’s influence did indeed reach far.
“She gave me rides home a few times…and got pissed when I didn’t want her to give me rides anymore. You’d think she would’ve been happy about that,” I scoffed.
“She said you went up to your apt. and was there ‘til 8 in the morning. Eddie got pissed. She said it almost ruined her marriage. She hasn’t told him…yet. She just wants you to call her.”
This was an example of how pervasive Eve’s influence could be. She had gotten to Kaiser, somehow persuaded him into believing her sob story, probably using him for a shoulder to cry on like she had done me, and then she convinced him to try to get me to call her, all in an attempt for her to control me from a distance.
You see, Eve was a witch. A real witch. I didn’t find out this fact until I had crossed her. Perhaps her trickery wasn’t as readily apparent as what one might consider a conventional witch to be. There were no poisoned apples to eat, nor was there any pointy hat-wearing, broomstick-riding, overtly obvious hazards to avoid. Eve’s way of spellcasting was more subtle and insidious. She likes to create miniature empires and manipulate the players like a chess grandmaster moves a knight, rook, or queen. She had cast her dark magic, stirring up her cauldron of worries, stirring up trouble. Kaiser’s involvement was surely a sign of this, but then again, he always did have a soft spot for the split-tails.
“Ruined her marriage, did I?” I said, my anger building up like bile. As long as Eve was going to spew out her skewed version of events, I was going to expound upon what I thought were the real issues. “What I want to know is: What is a married woman doing out that late without her husband? Or for that matter, what married man lets his wife prance around at all hours of the night, anyway? She gave me a fucking valentine!” I finished, as if this point hadn’t already been made.
“I know. That’s fucked up. Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, and the only reason I kept it is for evidence in case I need it.”
“Damn…you might need it. Eddie’s gonna be pissed if he ever finds out. It’s probably better if you don’t bring it up. Let him bring it up first. And you’re sure nothing happened…I’ll believe you if you tell me. Just tell me...”
I thought of the night that Eve had driven me home. I thought of all the events and circumstances that had led up to that event, and the resulting ripples of chaos that had been created. I was standing at the crossroads, my eyes scanning over the many possible roads before me. It was at these moments that I viewed myself as a traveler, seeking out the ends to these roads, wherever they wound up taking me. “It was nothing,” I said, choosing this route.
“What do you mean?” Kaiser, sounding cautious again.
“You know how it is at the Pub…” I explained, “…how our group is.” Now I was baiting him, and the best part was that he didn’t know it. “You remember that one time you came...when you hooked up with Janine.” This indeed had happened, and on New Years’ night up above the Pub. This was the one time Kaiser had gotten a taste of our clique. He had met Janine, and within a matter of hours, he had charmed and seduced her in that fabulously mysterious way of his, and the two of them had snuck off to some secluded corner of the loft, where they did whatever it was that they had done. “Her hair smelled so good,” he proclaimed, almost apologetically, after he had returned from their act.
“Of course I remember,” he muttered. I could tell that he wasn’t happy with me bringing up his tryst with Janine. It was the perfect distraction to take the focus from me to him. “I would never do that again,” he continued, sounding like the school bully trying to talk his way out of a detention. “I’m in love with Cheri. It’s not like it was before; the love I feel for her…it’s…deeper than what I’ve ever felt. I don’t even need sex anymore. I’ve grown beyond sex.”
This proclamation was a lie. This was Kaiser’s way of justifying his continued relationship with Cheri, a woman who was gorgeous, smart, funny, and bizarrely faithful to Kaiser, but not very interested in having sex, at least with him. They had been together for 6 years, and I had been witness to Kaiser vacillating between wanting to marry her and wanting to ditch her. His big reason for staying with Cheri was that he didn’t want to start over, having to get new furniture, etc. So apparently, his relationship of convenience with Cheri enabled him with all sorts of opportunities to continue his peacockishness, including his shopping sprees to buy extravagant leathers and designer jewelry. Of course he would have been a fool to leave her; she was certainly the most supportive of Kaiser’s girlfriends, the most together mentally and financially, the coolest all around, and seemed to not mind the mountains of bullshit Kaiser seemed to generate all around him. All that seemed to be missing was the sex, an issue that he certainly had his way of dealing with.
“Now we won’t talk about that then. It’s like it never happened, o.k.?” This was Kaiser’s version of a Jedi mind trick; the power of suggestion to the weak-minded. I had seen this work on women in the clubs to often miraculous results, but I knew him well enough to see through his tricks.
“O.K. man, no worries.” I replied this way not because I agreed with his methodology or supported his infidelity, but because I considered him a friend. And unlike him, I knew how to keep secrets. And where did he come off judging me, with his sorted history and all? Hell, if you wanted to get technical about it, I was the only legitimately single one in this whole mess. I wasn’t the one who took the vows, like so many of my friends had done.
“But hey…” he said. Now it was his turn to change the subject. “I was gonna tell you ‘bout this girl I know. She works at the city clinic with Cheri. I wanted you two to meet. I don’t know man…I’ve got this strange feeling…she feels different somehow…I think you two will get along…,” he ranted in his typical manic fashion. “Here I go playing Mr. Matchmaker again,” he crooned in a falsely sarcastic way.
I had already become used to Kaiser taking credit for milestone occurrences in my life, whether they be relationships that he had a part in introducing, or attaching his name onto an idea that I had come up with, or attaching my name onto one of his ideas in order to give it more credibility. When it came to entitlement, Kaiser wasn’t ever bashful at naming and claiming.
I’ve discovered that this too is a form of sorcery. The human brain is susceptible to all sorts of suggestions, and like the art of the Jedi Mind Trick, claiming things over people’s lives is a form of inflicting your will upon others. Kaiser was a master at this tactic, but in order for it to work, the victim has to be weak-minded, or easily manipulated, and must consciously/subconsciously agree with the party making suggestions. This was the mysterious gift that he possessed; he had a way with words, and no matter how bi-polar an argument with him became, he had this way of getting the last word in, so that it seemed that all involved parties agreed with him.
If it had been 10 years ago, during the beginnings of our friendship, I would have been taken in by these mind tricks. In those days, I was under Kaiser’s wing, and was his wingman. He came rolling into Colorado like some sort of mythical creature, part saint and part devil. I’m sure that he appears this way to all of his new friends; grandiose and exotic in a larger-than-life sort of way. From the time that I met him, I knew there was something special about him. In the early days he was more humble about his gifts, and that is why him and I had become such fast friends in those days.
But so much had clouded what that friendship had become to signify over the years. I had long since crawled out from his shadow and had come into my own. The problem was that Kaiser seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed. I had begun to build a pretty respectable reputation both as an artist and a session musician, and my goals and his goals began to diverge at some crucial point. We had met at the Crossroads, walked along the path together for awhile, and enjoyed each other’s company while it lasted, but like so many things in life, friendships can be fleeting and bittersweet.
I should have known not to trust Kaiser’s matchmaking instincts, as his previous attempts had turned out to be massive failures, including the friend of a friend that he had set me up with on a blind date, who I ended up proposing to, and we split up after being together for a mere four months. Perhaps it was the strange mood that had set over the early parts of 2008. Perhaps it was the tinge of spite I felt towards Eve that sent me rocketing in any direction, as long as it was away from her. Maybe it was my self-masochistic way of testing fate. Whatever the case, I abandoned my better judgment to this particular meandering road along the Crossroads, and I had no idea just how consequential that choice would be...
End of pt. 1
Saturday, September 12, 2009
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT III: Friends In High Places...
I've reached the point now where I look back at my past in roughly 5-10 year increments. The reason for this is simple. I've reached the age where my memory can actually reference a span of 10 years at a time. Although I've been alive for three decades, it is only now that my "adult" mind can put these larger chunks of time in perspective. My so-called "child's" mind at age 10 certainly could not perceive the concept of 10 years into the past or future (at that age, I would agonize over how long it took for a mere hour to pass during boring events, and conversely, when I was busy at play, time would streak by).
Life at that age seemed to pass with a paradoxical slowness and rapidity, mostly marked with physiological and academic milestones. At age 20, I could by now, remember back to age 10, but the memories were fuzzy and I was driven by a desire to escape my childhood and define myself as an "adult." As far as projecting any years into the future, it seems that I was afflicted with the same sort of myopia that most young adults experience. It is a type of nearsightedness towards the seemingly distant future between late twenties and thirtysomething, a type of youthful indulgence bordering on thinking oneself to be invincible.
It was during my 20's that I really started to notice the sensation of time passing more rapidly, and I both savored and splurged away what some would call the "prime" years of my life. It is nothing I regret, but nevertheless, I arrived at age 30 with all the abruptness of a monsoon rainstorm in the desert. Just like in the days of my childhood, time seemed to fly when I was having fun, but long gone were the days of trudging through boring hours or minutes. Now time flies, period.
I bring up the subject of time and memories to touch upon another subject, which is friendships and how I relate to people. I feel that I have arrived at a unique point in my life where I am able to reconcile my past and future. At this important crossroads, I can recognize the different phases and states of growth I have achieved over the last three decades and also have the perspective of scale to appreciate the sanctity of youth and the brevity of time.
My friends have always been like an extended family to me. They are an extension of myself, for I would not know myself without the help of my friends. What curiosities they are! I have often contemplated the forces that brought us together and the mysterious lines of connection that forms the web of our intertwined lives. What remains equally baffling to me are the forces that break friendships and the lines of repulsion that drive us apart. Actually, the conclusion that I have come to is a maddeningly simple one: friendships end because people outgrow each other.
No one party is usually to blame for this phenomenon. To grow is to change, and life is always moving and changing. People continue to grow throughout their lives and some friendships grow together, while others grow apart. This fact is not particularly surprising nor profound, yet the sting of loss felt by a cherished relationship never fails to ambush me at the times when I long for it the most.
I have often felt like the one left behind, clinging to a particular friendship or idea of a friendship. I haven’t had very many long-term friendships that have endured the test of time and growth. I attribute this mainly to moving around a lot as a kid, losing touch with those whom I bonded with during some very formative years. Perhaps I simply got a taste of life early on, and how it tends to move on, and move us on as well. Whatever the case, it is what it is, and I am left pondering at those forgotten friendships of old, and grateful for those that have remained.
Most of my friends and acquaintances these days have their own lives and wives (kids too), and they have “moved on” in that sense. I have come to realize that this is natural and to be expected. But there are definitely those certain friendships that I had hoped and intended would last a lifetime. It is these relationships that I have placed the most fervor and importance in keeping in touch and maintaining contact. But it seems that no matter how much I may want a friendship to continue, sometimes it is doomed to end.
It is like my emotions and memories of these people are locked in a time machine that is stuck on our connected past. I keep pursuing these people, expecting them to be the same, and whatever fundamental force that brought us together would still be alive and well, if not for anything else than the virtue of me wishing it so. The memories I have of these relationships are like snapshots, static and unchanging. Well, actually, perhaps my memories of some of my favorite relationships have morphed over the years, erring on the side of idealizing these people, my mind making larger-than-life characters out of them, and maybe that’s why I have such a difficult time letting go. Maybe it’s just me longing for the “good ol’ days,” a time when there seemed to exist endless possibilities, when the future wasn’t so determined, a time before I became jaded by this so-called “adulthood.” And then I realized that nothing lasts forever, and people move on with the motion of their lives.
As undoubtedly cynical as I have become with the disappointment of broken friendships, lost loves, and severed connections, I too have represented the agent of change, moving on from relationships that I have lost interest in or outgrew. This has typically been unintentional, but as life moves, I have moved with it and I am left with the awareness of having pursued people, and of having been pursued by people. I like to call this the cycle of pursuit/rejection.
What fuels this cycle, especially during adulthood, I believe, is the notion of time being an ever-increasingly precious commodity. For those of us who are aware of this phenomena, the thought of wasted time is scornful. Essentially, the older we get, the more strategic we are (and perhaps more frugal we become), with our time allowances. We put time into the relationships we want to nurture, and marginalize the ones that don’t matter as much.
Perhaps I’m sounding a bit cold about the whole thing, but I truly believe that a person will pursue what they want to experience, and reject what they don’t. Hence the cycle of pursuit/rejection. Even though I am now aware of this cycle, I have found it to be the source of much distress and energy expenditure. So what is the remedy for breaking this apparent cycle? Letting go.
In the reckoning of my lost past relationships, I have had to learn to let go of them. I have had to let go of my attachment to my ideas of them. I have learned to accept them, not as being any better or worse, but simply different. I like to think of this acceptance as “growing our separate ways.”
Another type of acceptance is the realization that many relationships are only meant for a season. These are crucial times when paths overlap and interests are compatible.
Relationships come and go. Friends come and go. Who are we to determine, in our limited scope, the duration of such things? The important thing is to let go when a relationship has served its purpose. Who can say when that is? What about those lasting, enduring friendships that stand the test of time and change? What are the marks of a friendship?
I think that friendships, or relationships in general, are marked by relating. After all, it was common interest(s) that initiated the relationship to begin with. As long as you continue to relate with one another, there is the possibility of relationship.
Will you always relate on everything? Do you completely relate with all of your friends now? As I stated before, growth and change are inevitable. It is the compatibility of these changes which determine the course of a given relationship. Maybe you will find your friend or partner even more compatible as time goes on. Perhaps the process of growth and change will have made the relationship stronger over time.
Another hallmark of an enduring friendship is a renewed and continued interest. Both parties have to make somewhat of an effort. But this again reflects on the incentives brought on by relatability.
Trust is a key factor. In my experience, trust only comes with time and experience. But I have also had friends that I had deeply trusted betray me. It is often easier to betray those you are closest to, as you are more aware of their vulnerabilities. So even though trust is important, one can never be 100% certain of another person.
Intimacy is important. Some of my most enduring friendships have been marked by completely non-gay expressions shared between me and my male friends. This serves to affirm and re-affirm the friendship and provide ongoing feedback. I have seen this materialize organically within my closest friends.
I have discovered that some of my most satisfying friendships over the years have been marked with the uncanny ability of being able to pick up where we left off. Months or years may have passed, but when we reconnect, we have the same rapport and the friendship is easily rekindled. It is fascinating to see how we have both changed and grown throughout the years and have maintained points of contact throughout it all. And this aspect may be the most amazing part of it all; that throughout all of life’s twists and turns, we are able to connect with others, and remain connected.
I am a firm believer that one should go after what they want to experience. If you feel that you are lacking in a certain aspect of your life, or lacking in a relationship, seek it out. It may not always arrive in the package you expect, but if you are proactive in seeking what you want, you will eventually find it.
Life at that age seemed to pass with a paradoxical slowness and rapidity, mostly marked with physiological and academic milestones. At age 20, I could by now, remember back to age 10, but the memories were fuzzy and I was driven by a desire to escape my childhood and define myself as an "adult." As far as projecting any years into the future, it seems that I was afflicted with the same sort of myopia that most young adults experience. It is a type of nearsightedness towards the seemingly distant future between late twenties and thirtysomething, a type of youthful indulgence bordering on thinking oneself to be invincible.
It was during my 20's that I really started to notice the sensation of time passing more rapidly, and I both savored and splurged away what some would call the "prime" years of my life. It is nothing I regret, but nevertheless, I arrived at age 30 with all the abruptness of a monsoon rainstorm in the desert. Just like in the days of my childhood, time seemed to fly when I was having fun, but long gone were the days of trudging through boring hours or minutes. Now time flies, period.
I bring up the subject of time and memories to touch upon another subject, which is friendships and how I relate to people. I feel that I have arrived at a unique point in my life where I am able to reconcile my past and future. At this important crossroads, I can recognize the different phases and states of growth I have achieved over the last three decades and also have the perspective of scale to appreciate the sanctity of youth and the brevity of time.
My friends have always been like an extended family to me. They are an extension of myself, for I would not know myself without the help of my friends. What curiosities they are! I have often contemplated the forces that brought us together and the mysterious lines of connection that forms the web of our intertwined lives. What remains equally baffling to me are the forces that break friendships and the lines of repulsion that drive us apart. Actually, the conclusion that I have come to is a maddeningly simple one: friendships end because people outgrow each other.
No one party is usually to blame for this phenomenon. To grow is to change, and life is always moving and changing. People continue to grow throughout their lives and some friendships grow together, while others grow apart. This fact is not particularly surprising nor profound, yet the sting of loss felt by a cherished relationship never fails to ambush me at the times when I long for it the most.
I have often felt like the one left behind, clinging to a particular friendship or idea of a friendship. I haven’t had very many long-term friendships that have endured the test of time and growth. I attribute this mainly to moving around a lot as a kid, losing touch with those whom I bonded with during some very formative years. Perhaps I simply got a taste of life early on, and how it tends to move on, and move us on as well. Whatever the case, it is what it is, and I am left pondering at those forgotten friendships of old, and grateful for those that have remained.
Most of my friends and acquaintances these days have their own lives and wives (kids too), and they have “moved on” in that sense. I have come to realize that this is natural and to be expected. But there are definitely those certain friendships that I had hoped and intended would last a lifetime. It is these relationships that I have placed the most fervor and importance in keeping in touch and maintaining contact. But it seems that no matter how much I may want a friendship to continue, sometimes it is doomed to end.
It is like my emotions and memories of these people are locked in a time machine that is stuck on our connected past. I keep pursuing these people, expecting them to be the same, and whatever fundamental force that brought us together would still be alive and well, if not for anything else than the virtue of me wishing it so. The memories I have of these relationships are like snapshots, static and unchanging. Well, actually, perhaps my memories of some of my favorite relationships have morphed over the years, erring on the side of idealizing these people, my mind making larger-than-life characters out of them, and maybe that’s why I have such a difficult time letting go. Maybe it’s just me longing for the “good ol’ days,” a time when there seemed to exist endless possibilities, when the future wasn’t so determined, a time before I became jaded by this so-called “adulthood.” And then I realized that nothing lasts forever, and people move on with the motion of their lives.
As undoubtedly cynical as I have become with the disappointment of broken friendships, lost loves, and severed connections, I too have represented the agent of change, moving on from relationships that I have lost interest in or outgrew. This has typically been unintentional, but as life moves, I have moved with it and I am left with the awareness of having pursued people, and of having been pursued by people. I like to call this the cycle of pursuit/rejection.
What fuels this cycle, especially during adulthood, I believe, is the notion of time being an ever-increasingly precious commodity. For those of us who are aware of this phenomena, the thought of wasted time is scornful. Essentially, the older we get, the more strategic we are (and perhaps more frugal we become), with our time allowances. We put time into the relationships we want to nurture, and marginalize the ones that don’t matter as much.
Perhaps I’m sounding a bit cold about the whole thing, but I truly believe that a person will pursue what they want to experience, and reject what they don’t. Hence the cycle of pursuit/rejection. Even though I am now aware of this cycle, I have found it to be the source of much distress and energy expenditure. So what is the remedy for breaking this apparent cycle? Letting go.
In the reckoning of my lost past relationships, I have had to learn to let go of them. I have had to let go of my attachment to my ideas of them. I have learned to accept them, not as being any better or worse, but simply different. I like to think of this acceptance as “growing our separate ways.”
Another type of acceptance is the realization that many relationships are only meant for a season. These are crucial times when paths overlap and interests are compatible.
Relationships come and go. Friends come and go. Who are we to determine, in our limited scope, the duration of such things? The important thing is to let go when a relationship has served its purpose. Who can say when that is? What about those lasting, enduring friendships that stand the test of time and change? What are the marks of a friendship?
I think that friendships, or relationships in general, are marked by relating. After all, it was common interest(s) that initiated the relationship to begin with. As long as you continue to relate with one another, there is the possibility of relationship.
Will you always relate on everything? Do you completely relate with all of your friends now? As I stated before, growth and change are inevitable. It is the compatibility of these changes which determine the course of a given relationship. Maybe you will find your friend or partner even more compatible as time goes on. Perhaps the process of growth and change will have made the relationship stronger over time.
Another hallmark of an enduring friendship is a renewed and continued interest. Both parties have to make somewhat of an effort. But this again reflects on the incentives brought on by relatability.
Trust is a key factor. In my experience, trust only comes with time and experience. But I have also had friends that I had deeply trusted betray me. It is often easier to betray those you are closest to, as you are more aware of their vulnerabilities. So even though trust is important, one can never be 100% certain of another person.
Intimacy is important. Some of my most enduring friendships have been marked by completely non-gay expressions shared between me and my male friends. This serves to affirm and re-affirm the friendship and provide ongoing feedback. I have seen this materialize organically within my closest friends.
I have discovered that some of my most satisfying friendships over the years have been marked with the uncanny ability of being able to pick up where we left off. Months or years may have passed, but when we reconnect, we have the same rapport and the friendship is easily rekindled. It is fascinating to see how we have both changed and grown throughout the years and have maintained points of contact throughout it all. And this aspect may be the most amazing part of it all; that throughout all of life’s twists and turns, we are able to connect with others, and remain connected.
I am a firm believer that one should go after what they want to experience. If you feel that you are lacking in a certain aspect of your life, or lacking in a relationship, seek it out. It may not always arrive in the package you expect, but if you are proactive in seeking what you want, you will eventually find it.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Say Hello To The New Mouseketeers...
Disney, one of the most powerful media conglomerates in the world, has just purchased Marvel Comics, clinching yet another foothold along its quest for complete dominion over the minds of our children. Having virtually no rivals, the Disney Corporation has pervasive influence in cinema, cable television, the music industry, and now comics. What a terrible day for those of us who relished Marvel Comics for the ways in which it was very much non-Disney-ish. So now what? Are my favorite superheroes like Wolverine, Spiderman, and the Incredible Hulk going to become Disney-fied, interrupting their regularly scheduled battles with the forces of evil in order to break out in song and dance numbers by Elton John? Will we get to see the "softer side" of some of our grittier characters? In other words, will the standard "Disney formula" be applied to future Marvel projects, essentially making them more kid friendly? The fact that Disney now has domain over the future direction of Marvel Comics makes me sick!
Why am I outraged? Why am I picking on poor, innocent, kid- and parent-approved Disney? Well...if one has done their research, Disney is not that innocent. Disney has a history of inserting subliminal subversive messages into their films, as well as eroticizing minors on their cable programs and movies. Have we forgotten that it was "kid-friendly" Disney that brought us Brittney Spears, whom I consider to be the epitome of underage sex appeal, bubblegum insanity, and lackluster talent? What about Lindsey Lohan? Here's another stellar role model from the mold of the Disney corporate pimp machine. Disney arguably has done some good for children, helping to instill values upon young impressionable minds, and has produced some relatively entertaining material over the years. But it is exactly these double-standards that make me wary of Disney.
As I stated before, Disney is pervasive, holding a near monopoly on children's entertainment. I know of parents that absolutely trust Disney to "help raise" their children, because they believe that it is wholesome. One mother told me that she likes the Disney Channel because she doesn't have to worry about the programming being a bad influence on her kids. But these are not the days of Walt Disney, before his cartoon creations became the juggernaut media conglomerate that it is today. Disney has long been taken over by corporate goons who use the Disney namesake to peddle their own agendas. The name "Disney" evokes powerful childhood attachments and memories, and to most, the fact that something is Disney, means that the product will be trusted. It is for these reasons that Disney has become so dangerous.
Innocence has been infused with smut. Storytelling has been relegated to a cheesy formula, designed to play on the nostalgia that Walt Disney created. How many more formulaic "kids movies" starring the tragically misunderstood heroine and her plucky sidekicks can we stand? First, Disney hijacks a bevy of Grimms Fairy Tales, retelling the stories without the darkest parts, and now they've hijacked Marvel Comics.
This is truly a sad day for comics fans...
Why am I outraged? Why am I picking on poor, innocent, kid- and parent-approved Disney? Well...if one has done their research, Disney is not that innocent. Disney has a history of inserting subliminal subversive messages into their films, as well as eroticizing minors on their cable programs and movies. Have we forgotten that it was "kid-friendly" Disney that brought us Brittney Spears, whom I consider to be the epitome of underage sex appeal, bubblegum insanity, and lackluster talent? What about Lindsey Lohan? Here's another stellar role model from the mold of the Disney corporate pimp machine. Disney arguably has done some good for children, helping to instill values upon young impressionable minds, and has produced some relatively entertaining material over the years. But it is exactly these double-standards that make me wary of Disney.
As I stated before, Disney is pervasive, holding a near monopoly on children's entertainment. I know of parents that absolutely trust Disney to "help raise" their children, because they believe that it is wholesome. One mother told me that she likes the Disney Channel because she doesn't have to worry about the programming being a bad influence on her kids. But these are not the days of Walt Disney, before his cartoon creations became the juggernaut media conglomerate that it is today. Disney has long been taken over by corporate goons who use the Disney namesake to peddle their own agendas. The name "Disney" evokes powerful childhood attachments and memories, and to most, the fact that something is Disney, means that the product will be trusted. It is for these reasons that Disney has become so dangerous.
Innocence has been infused with smut. Storytelling has been relegated to a cheesy formula, designed to play on the nostalgia that Walt Disney created. How many more formulaic "kids movies" starring the tragically misunderstood heroine and her plucky sidekicks can we stand? First, Disney hijacks a bevy of Grimms Fairy Tales, retelling the stories without the darkest parts, and now they've hijacked Marvel Comics.
This is truly a sad day for comics fans...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
ENDANGERED SPECIES: PROGRESSIVISM
PART I: Tales From An Alternate Reality
I remember thinking as a child, that the year 2000 was destined to be that penultimate year of the future so idealized by pop culture. Movies like Back To The Future part II, with its flying cars, fusion-powered engines, and hoverboards, seemed like a feasible roadmap to a future within reach. Back then it seemed that technology had no limits and was growing at such a rate, we could hardly keep up with it--and it was, for the most part.
There came a point, I believe, where we reached a fork in the road to our advancement as a civilization. I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly the point of departure, but it seems that somewhere along the lines, this technological growth has slowed, halted, or maybe even regressed. If technology is a natural extension of human evolution, which I believe it is, then we are experiencing a disruption of our progress as a species.
My critics have argued against this idea, pointing to advances in computer technology, wireless communication, advanced weaponry, and even those nifty little HD T.V.'s that are becoming ubiquitous. They claim that I expect too much too soon, and we are still advancing at the same breakneck speed. But still, as I sit in front of my computer, sifting through its myriad of petty problems, I can't help but wonder: What century do we live in?
When I watch T.V. commercials, especially car commercials, I get fired up at the absurdity of the ideas that are presented. The simple fact that we are still a society mainly influenced by solicitation and provocative advertising shows how little we've progressed. We are moved by influential "powers-that-be" who peddle their version of reality under our noses, and presto! It becomes the established reality. Those sad souls who would rather passively stand by and accept this version of reality chime: "Well, that's just the way it is. Without advertising there wouldn't be funding for T.V. shows." I, on the other hand do not accept this version of reality as "the way it is." It didn't have to go this way. We were on a path and we strayed.
Take car commercials for example. When I see these ads that create a fantasyland of flying automobiles and whimsical landscapes, when I see through the car corporation's ploy to elevate the act of driving to some sort of transcendental experience, I get angry. This is due not only to the advertising industry's tendency to pander towards the stupidity of humans, but also because the auto industry is flaunting, onscreen, the very thing that they have failed to produce! They mock us with tantalizing images of cars that float along sky highways, or cars that transform into giant robots, or cars that speed through fantastical worlds that have nothing to do with the product itself. We are presented with a vision of the future and it is sad to behold the true lack of vision that exists as the centerpiece of the ad: the gas-driven internal combustion engine car (ICE-car for short).
Here is a technology that has remained virtually unchanged in the last 100 years. Sure, automobiles have become sleeker, air-conditioned, and more expensive, but the essential technology that resides at the core of this product has stayed the same. And what are the reasons for this? Is it because the design of the modern automobile is the pinnacle of human ingenuity? Is the technology superior to anything else that might have been created for the same purpose? How about a lack of imagination? Car commercials demonstrate that there is certainly not a lack of imagination. No, I believe that the reason we have not yet surpassed the worn-out paradigm of the ICE-car, rests squarely on the shoulders of the auto industry itself.
Right now, we live in a society that is pre-dominantly focused on the American economy. One of the historical pillars of this economy has always been the automobile industry which is, finally, seemingly, on the verge of collapse. I, for one, am applauding this inevitable collapse.
Why? Because of the auto industry's ultimate lack of vision. It seems that more thought was put into the "vision" of their overpriced, overhyped advertisements than the actual product itself.
Why? Because the major American car corporations have squandered their massive wealth only to deliver more of the same, lame cars at increased cost to the consumer.
Why? Because they allowed untethered greed to establish such a sprawling system of mass-production, bloated sales-driven dealerships, and flamboyant product lines that collapse was always inevitable.
Why? Because the auto industry has failed to progress according to the needs of the consumer and the environment.
Why then, if the auto industry has achieved such a massive failure, do they still operate today? The answer, sadly, is that we as American consumers would buy just about anything as long as the product is presented with slick advertising, a vanity-driven desire has been created for it, and no better alternatives have been presented to compete with it.
The first two reasons are societal/psychological symptoms, but the last reason is solely the responsibility of the "powers-that-be" in the auto industry.
It has been well documented that the auto industry has long held on to beneficial/progressive technologies that would literally revolutionize the industry. Advances in extended battery life, alternative fuels (not ethanol), and electric motors are just a few examples of existing technologies that the industry has purposefully withheld from the public, in order to maximize profits from their current invested technologies.
So powerful and influential has this industry been, that they have had the purchasing power to literally buy off patents from independent inventors. In fact, GM did release a limited number of fully electric vehicles in the early 90's, but was able to successfully recall and destroy all existing models under leasing protection. Only one electric car was spared, and it sits in a car museum (for more information on this, check out the film "Who Killed The Electric Car?").
Another fact is that electric vehicles were actually more dominant in the market before Henry Ford revolutionized the mass production of gas powered cars in the 1920's. This only further illustrates my theory that technology could have gone in a different direction.
I put greed at the center of the auto industry's , and ultimately the "powers-that-be's" monumental gaffe. But if technology is the extension of human evolution and consciousness, then what right do they have to slow, regulate, or halt the rate of progress? People are hungry for progress. They are hungry for change.
Science and technology used to stem from an organic process of problem solving and discovery. Now it seems that research and development (R&D) in the form of more advanced technology has become so intertwined with corporations, that the independent inventor has become all but snuffed out. Who else has the investment capital? Who else has the R&D infrastructure? Who else has the ability to recruit the top scientists and brilliant minds? Oh yeah, the government has that ability too.
So basically what I am asserting is that somewhere along this road of technological discovery, the path split, and we have taken a turn towards the dark side. What used to be an organic province of the human mind has been hijacked, at the highest levels, by corporate and government interests, who have either slowed or halted the natural flow of this process (at least when it comes to the public interest).
This is demonstrated by their massive failure to deliver products and establish a society where technology benefits all of humanity and the planet. Much of this technology has been used to wage war, keep the public distracted, keep the wheels of industry rolling, and to deliver vanity products that promise more flash than substance.
We somehow turned right when we should have turned left, and have ended up in this strange alternative reality where the big technological breakthroughs aren't flying cars and meals in a pill, but are rather gadgety cell phones, SUV's, and more cable channels.
Don't believe me? Don't wanna see? Try taking your imagination off the shelf, dust off the cobwebs and ask yourself: "Is this all there is? Is this where we're supposed to be?" Ask yourself: "What Century Do We Live In?"
Coming soon:
ENDANGERED SPECIES PART II:
So Much For The Afterglow...
I remember thinking as a child, that the year 2000 was destined to be that penultimate year of the future so idealized by pop culture. Movies like Back To The Future part II, with its flying cars, fusion-powered engines, and hoverboards, seemed like a feasible roadmap to a future within reach. Back then it seemed that technology had no limits and was growing at such a rate, we could hardly keep up with it--and it was, for the most part.
There came a point, I believe, where we reached a fork in the road to our advancement as a civilization. I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly the point of departure, but it seems that somewhere along the lines, this technological growth has slowed, halted, or maybe even regressed. If technology is a natural extension of human evolution, which I believe it is, then we are experiencing a disruption of our progress as a species.
My critics have argued against this idea, pointing to advances in computer technology, wireless communication, advanced weaponry, and even those nifty little HD T.V.'s that are becoming ubiquitous. They claim that I expect too much too soon, and we are still advancing at the same breakneck speed. But still, as I sit in front of my computer, sifting through its myriad of petty problems, I can't help but wonder: What century do we live in?
When I watch T.V. commercials, especially car commercials, I get fired up at the absurdity of the ideas that are presented. The simple fact that we are still a society mainly influenced by solicitation and provocative advertising shows how little we've progressed. We are moved by influential "powers-that-be" who peddle their version of reality under our noses, and presto! It becomes the established reality. Those sad souls who would rather passively stand by and accept this version of reality chime: "Well, that's just the way it is. Without advertising there wouldn't be funding for T.V. shows." I, on the other hand do not accept this version of reality as "the way it is." It didn't have to go this way. We were on a path and we strayed.
Take car commercials for example. When I see these ads that create a fantasyland of flying automobiles and whimsical landscapes, when I see through the car corporation's ploy to elevate the act of driving to some sort of transcendental experience, I get angry. This is due not only to the advertising industry's tendency to pander towards the stupidity of humans, but also because the auto industry is flaunting, onscreen, the very thing that they have failed to produce! They mock us with tantalizing images of cars that float along sky highways, or cars that transform into giant robots, or cars that speed through fantastical worlds that have nothing to do with the product itself. We are presented with a vision of the future and it is sad to behold the true lack of vision that exists as the centerpiece of the ad: the gas-driven internal combustion engine car (ICE-car for short).
Here is a technology that has remained virtually unchanged in the last 100 years. Sure, automobiles have become sleeker, air-conditioned, and more expensive, but the essential technology that resides at the core of this product has stayed the same. And what are the reasons for this? Is it because the design of the modern automobile is the pinnacle of human ingenuity? Is the technology superior to anything else that might have been created for the same purpose? How about a lack of imagination? Car commercials demonstrate that there is certainly not a lack of imagination. No, I believe that the reason we have not yet surpassed the worn-out paradigm of the ICE-car, rests squarely on the shoulders of the auto industry itself.
Right now, we live in a society that is pre-dominantly focused on the American economy. One of the historical pillars of this economy has always been the automobile industry which is, finally, seemingly, on the verge of collapse. I, for one, am applauding this inevitable collapse.
Why? Because of the auto industry's ultimate lack of vision. It seems that more thought was put into the "vision" of their overpriced, overhyped advertisements than the actual product itself.
Why? Because the major American car corporations have squandered their massive wealth only to deliver more of the same, lame cars at increased cost to the consumer.
Why? Because they allowed untethered greed to establish such a sprawling system of mass-production, bloated sales-driven dealerships, and flamboyant product lines that collapse was always inevitable.
Why? Because the auto industry has failed to progress according to the needs of the consumer and the environment.
Why then, if the auto industry has achieved such a massive failure, do they still operate today? The answer, sadly, is that we as American consumers would buy just about anything as long as the product is presented with slick advertising, a vanity-driven desire has been created for it, and no better alternatives have been presented to compete with it.
The first two reasons are societal/psychological symptoms, but the last reason is solely the responsibility of the "powers-that-be" in the auto industry.
It has been well documented that the auto industry has long held on to beneficial/progressive technologies that would literally revolutionize the industry. Advances in extended battery life, alternative fuels (not ethanol), and electric motors are just a few examples of existing technologies that the industry has purposefully withheld from the public, in order to maximize profits from their current invested technologies.
So powerful and influential has this industry been, that they have had the purchasing power to literally buy off patents from independent inventors. In fact, GM did release a limited number of fully electric vehicles in the early 90's, but was able to successfully recall and destroy all existing models under leasing protection. Only one electric car was spared, and it sits in a car museum (for more information on this, check out the film "Who Killed The Electric Car?").
Another fact is that electric vehicles were actually more dominant in the market before Henry Ford revolutionized the mass production of gas powered cars in the 1920's. This only further illustrates my theory that technology could have gone in a different direction.
I put greed at the center of the auto industry's , and ultimately the "powers-that-be's" monumental gaffe. But if technology is the extension of human evolution and consciousness, then what right do they have to slow, regulate, or halt the rate of progress? People are hungry for progress. They are hungry for change.
Science and technology used to stem from an organic process of problem solving and discovery. Now it seems that research and development (R&D) in the form of more advanced technology has become so intertwined with corporations, that the independent inventor has become all but snuffed out. Who else has the investment capital? Who else has the R&D infrastructure? Who else has the ability to recruit the top scientists and brilliant minds? Oh yeah, the government has that ability too.
So basically what I am asserting is that somewhere along this road of technological discovery, the path split, and we have taken a turn towards the dark side. What used to be an organic province of the human mind has been hijacked, at the highest levels, by corporate and government interests, who have either slowed or halted the natural flow of this process (at least when it comes to the public interest).
This is demonstrated by their massive failure to deliver products and establish a society where technology benefits all of humanity and the planet. Much of this technology has been used to wage war, keep the public distracted, keep the wheels of industry rolling, and to deliver vanity products that promise more flash than substance.
We somehow turned right when we should have turned left, and have ended up in this strange alternative reality where the big technological breakthroughs aren't flying cars and meals in a pill, but are rather gadgety cell phones, SUV's, and more cable channels.
Don't believe me? Don't wanna see? Try taking your imagination off the shelf, dust off the cobwebs and ask yourself: "Is this all there is? Is this where we're supposed to be?" Ask yourself: "What Century Do We Live In?"
Coming soon:
ENDANGERED SPECIES PART II:
So Much For The Afterglow...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Ode To My Computer...
It thinks It has an opinion
It thinks that It’s alive
But when I want It to do something
All It does is shuck and jive
I bought It as a tool
Like a hammer to a nail
But when it comes time for work
It has a tendency to fail
I try to talk some sense to It
To be a sensitive guy
But nonetheless It fails me
And I’m left here asking why
So I bought another unit
To make up for Its mistake
But now I own two lemons
And I have twice the headache
Now I’m out of money
And frustrated to boot
All I wanted was a machine
That acted like a tool
But then I have an idea
Maybe I’ll start from scratch!
If I erase Its memory
Perhaps we’ll be a better match
But as fate would have it
Amnesia wasn’t the trick
My Computer had other plans
And now It’s really acting sick
Error warnings left and right
My face is flashing red
The only thing that seems to work
Is when I pull the plug dead
Now I have less headaches
Now I feel more alive
Since I’ve kept the power off
I get more exercise
No more lame excuses
No more silly games
Just a carcass of a computer
Used as a paper weight...
It thinks that It’s alive
But when I want It to do something
All It does is shuck and jive
I bought It as a tool
Like a hammer to a nail
But when it comes time for work
It has a tendency to fail
I try to talk some sense to It
To be a sensitive guy
But nonetheless It fails me
And I’m left here asking why
So I bought another unit
To make up for Its mistake
But now I own two lemons
And I have twice the headache
Now I’m out of money
And frustrated to boot
All I wanted was a machine
That acted like a tool
But then I have an idea
Maybe I’ll start from scratch!
If I erase Its memory
Perhaps we’ll be a better match
But as fate would have it
Amnesia wasn’t the trick
My Computer had other plans
And now It’s really acting sick
Error warnings left and right
My face is flashing red
The only thing that seems to work
Is when I pull the plug dead
Now I have less headaches
Now I feel more alive
Since I’ve kept the power off
I get more exercise
No more lame excuses
No more silly games
Just a carcass of a computer
Used as a paper weight...
Thursday, July 9, 2009
LONELY PATH
The mountains are my mistress.
I explore the rise and fall of her breasts, walking along this lonely path, feeling her smooth contours, resting in the protection of her valleys.
She both welcomes and chastises me like a lover who is not always easy to please, familiar in places, yet mysterious along the ineffable landscape of her body.
She is responsive to my touch, yet aloof to the inconsequential footprints I leave on her skin as I make every step a devotion.
When I am here, I am closest to nature, closest to death, walking a path between peril and salvation.
When I am here, I am closest to life, as my own body comes alive, feeling the grind of bone and muscle as I take each step, tasting the sweet air that is the breath of my lover.
When I am away, I dream of her unfound depths, places yet unexplored by my wandering feet.
I have yearned for her, sweated for her, bled for her.
She haunts my dreams and sobers my wake.
Her size both defeats and cajols me ever onward, and I am not walking with her as much as I am carried away by her.
It is only an illusion that I am able to keep my feet about me, because I know deep down that she could swallow me anytime she wanted, uniting us forever in the depths of her unconquered hollows, or propel me to places on high, as I dance in the shallows of the clouds...
I explore the rise and fall of her breasts, walking along this lonely path, feeling her smooth contours, resting in the protection of her valleys.
She both welcomes and chastises me like a lover who is not always easy to please, familiar in places, yet mysterious along the ineffable landscape of her body.
She is responsive to my touch, yet aloof to the inconsequential footprints I leave on her skin as I make every step a devotion.
When I am here, I am closest to nature, closest to death, walking a path between peril and salvation.
When I am here, I am closest to life, as my own body comes alive, feeling the grind of bone and muscle as I take each step, tasting the sweet air that is the breath of my lover.
When I am away, I dream of her unfound depths, places yet unexplored by my wandering feet.
I have yearned for her, sweated for her, bled for her.
She haunts my dreams and sobers my wake.
Her size both defeats and cajols me ever onward, and I am not walking with her as much as I am carried away by her.
It is only an illusion that I am able to keep my feet about me, because I know deep down that she could swallow me anytime she wanted, uniting us forever in the depths of her unconquered hollows, or propel me to places on high, as I dance in the shallows of the clouds...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT: Interlude
PLE
INTERLUDE
Early Excursions Into A Cosmic Doctrine
BEGIN TRANSMISSION>>
the world is a much bigger place...life looks different from behind the window of a moving car...things swirl by in motion at different rates-therefore time is different for the Explorer on foot...the Explorer on foot walks upon the skin of the earth as if walking on his own skin...the earth and the universe as self...the vehicular traveler-isolated-disengaged from direct communion with nature observes the world speeding by...passive mind...meditative thoughts...the wellspring of creation...looking under rocks for signs of life...creatures that thrive in the darkness of log-rot...fear and fascination...learning about electricity for the first time...making small light bulbs glow takes many batteries...will not work properly unless there is a complete circuit...universal principle...all positive and negative terminals must be connected-aligned...same as magnetism...here is a great mystery: positive/negative-North/South...everything is cycles...reading book about powers of the mind...can sense-feel that physical matter can be manipulated by the mind...concentrate hard...close eyes...believe...no results...something left out...blocked somehow...what is blocking me?...flirtations with the martial arts...calm deliberation in one's actions...protection-power...elegantly moving bone-muscle-mass through time-space...no longer stepping on the universe’s toes but dancing with it...mesmerized by fire...what substance are flames?...they move-dance with a sort of intelligence...something real-tangible but untouchable...dangerous beauty...being surprised by a spider then seeing myself through its eyes...the spider as self...strong sensation of awareness of the presence of another life form...sharing consciousness...looking into mirrors...seeing other worlds...a small window to which my mind can travel into-through-around...do I look into the reflective world of the mirror or am I the reflection of someone else looking in?...saw magic trick...coin disappeared in midair...some magic is real...music-art-writing...the ability to touch another soul...to evoke real emotion by the expression of sounds-images-words is magic...dreaming of the source...all is one...answers to everything because there are no more questions...ultimate knowledge...ultimate peace-for a time...connected to everything...we are all one...during conscious state-partitions in place to block access to universal consciousness...we are all one-but separate...there are ways to gain access...insights-glimpses...the conscious human mind was not intended to retain ultimate awareness...only in death do we return to the source...life=struggle...chick must break through egg shell as a demonstration of its will to be born...to live...seed sprouts break through the soil...human existence is to fight a losing battle with gravity...in the end gravity prevails...to live on is to continue to struggle...to enter into motion...karma is motion...life is motion therefore karma=life=struggle...life is a game...perhaps the ultimate game...life is a choice...to go on living is a choice...all things must come to an end sometime...more cycles...birth and death...crest and trough...on and off...life does not have to be preserved indefinitely...some death is honorable...death is as natural as life...life is illusion...self as an illusion...there is always a choice...there is a way out of the illusion...death=game over...
END TRANSMISSION>>
INTERLUDE
Early Excursions Into A Cosmic Doctrine
BEGIN TRANSMISSION>>
the world is a much bigger place...life looks different from behind the window of a moving car...things swirl by in motion at different rates-therefore time is different for the Explorer on foot...the Explorer on foot walks upon the skin of the earth as if walking on his own skin...the earth and the universe as self...the vehicular traveler-isolated-disengaged from direct communion with nature observes the world speeding by...passive mind...meditative thoughts...the wellspring of creation...looking under rocks for signs of life...creatures that thrive in the darkness of log-rot...fear and fascination...learning about electricity for the first time...making small light bulbs glow takes many batteries...will not work properly unless there is a complete circuit...universal principle...all positive and negative terminals must be connected-aligned...same as magnetism...here is a great mystery: positive/negative-North/South...everything is cycles...reading book about powers of the mind...can sense-feel that physical matter can be manipulated by the mind...concentrate hard...close eyes...believe...no results...something left out...blocked somehow...what is blocking me?...flirtations with the martial arts...calm deliberation in one's actions...protection-power...elegantly moving bone-muscle-mass through time-space...no longer stepping on the universe’s toes but dancing with it...mesmerized by fire...what substance are flames?...they move-dance with a sort of intelligence...something real-tangible but untouchable...dangerous beauty...being surprised by a spider then seeing myself through its eyes...the spider as self...strong sensation of awareness of the presence of another life form...sharing consciousness...looking into mirrors...seeing other worlds...a small window to which my mind can travel into-through-around...do I look into the reflective world of the mirror or am I the reflection of someone else looking in?...saw magic trick...coin disappeared in midair...some magic is real...music-art-writing...the ability to touch another soul...to evoke real emotion by the expression of sounds-images-words is magic...dreaming of the source...all is one...answers to everything because there are no more questions...ultimate knowledge...ultimate peace-for a time...connected to everything...we are all one...during conscious state-partitions in place to block access to universal consciousness...we are all one-but separate...there are ways to gain access...insights-glimpses...the conscious human mind was not intended to retain ultimate awareness...only in death do we return to the source...life=struggle...chick must break through egg shell as a demonstration of its will to be born...to live...seed sprouts break through the soil...human existence is to fight a losing battle with gravity...in the end gravity prevails...to live on is to continue to struggle...to enter into motion...karma is motion...life is motion therefore karma=life=struggle...life is a game...perhaps the ultimate game...life is a choice...to go on living is a choice...all things must come to an end sometime...more cycles...birth and death...crest and trough...on and off...life does not have to be preserved indefinitely...some death is honorable...death is as natural as life...life is illusion...self as an illusion...there is always a choice...there is a way out of the illusion...death=game over...
END TRANSMISSION>>
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT episode 002
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT
episode 002:
The Sound of Music
No quest to rediscover one's past would be complete without exploring their musical tastes. I’m not just talking about run-of-the-mill genre-surfing or a distillation of one's essence through musical hairsplitting. What I'm talking about is my own musical appreciation, irrespective of anyone else's experience or any other trend of the times. It seems like I have absorbed a lot of music out of sync from the times they were most popular, thus bypassing waves of fanaticism and death by radio. Bands like Led Zeppelin, Alice In Chains, Pink Floyd, and Tool are just a few examples of bands that I have come to appreciate as their popularity has waned.
As with fitness I believe that I have experienced music at a somewhat different pace than many other people. This is true not only within the context of my own musicianship but with the music that I have listened to for enjoyment. This music has, like none other, inspired, influenced and shaped me during very crucial times in my life. I find it fascinating to look back at my earliest musical experiences and see how differently my young mind had interpreted them, something more as an abstraction than as a comprehensive analytical experience.
When I listen back at some of these tunes with my adult mind, and years of hardened musical training, they sound different to me. This training has helped to tune my ear to the richness and depth that so much music contains. I am now able to pick out individual riffs, or bass lines, or intricacies in the vocals. I can picture in my head a session player as he or she lays down tracks in the studio. I can hear the subtleties invoked by the editing and engineering process. After all the years of music appearing to me as an enigma, I finally have a working knowledge of it.
Paradoxically however, as my training and experiences in music-making accumulated, so did my disillusionment with the process of producing commercial music. I have often wondered if this disenchantment would someday ruin my ability to simply enjoy music aside from the technical components that make it up. Would I be able to use my knowledge in order to deepen my enjoyment of music, or would I become like a musical mad-scientist, cynical and unappreciative of more simple compositions?
Like any discipline or craft I believe that one should never lose sight of their basic enjoyment of music. I don't think that there is a single person out there that doesn't enjoy music in some form or another. Music has a very personal meaning and significance to each person, each having his or her own musical journey which is as unique as their own fingerprint.
I used to lament over the possibility of my CD collection getting stolen back in the day when I still had CD’s, back before the digital revolution took over and made them practically obsolete. The thought of the sudden loss of my beloved music was indeed terrifying, not only because of the money invested, but more so because it was MY collection.
I remember the days of wandering through new and used CD shops listening with wonder at the treasures I found. I thought to myself that I would be devastated if someone snatched my collection (which numbered at about 700-800 discs by the time I went digital) because I had handpicked each one of these CDs and no one else could really appreciate them as I did. Sure, some enterprising sneak-thief could have made a modest fortune selling them. But all the time I spent harvesting the music, all the love I put into these particular songs and bands...well, like I said, the thought terrified me and fortunately my collection went un-stolen and remains with me to this day. Some of my friends were not so fortunate. But the point is that I spent, and still spend a great deal of time pursuing music, not only as a creator, but as a listener.
Some people listen to music as mere spectators, not having the slightest idea how to play a musical instrument, nor do they care to. They could care less about the inner workings of the record industry, or the studio recording process, or any other technical component involved in getting the music from the players to the listener’s ear. I used to hold these people in contempt for I was a: Maker of Music. Surely music meant more to us musicians who understood the language of music, who had the ability to dissect songs and point out what key- or time-signature they were in. Surely we who participated in the creation of music were the ones who really understood. But then I began to realize that music means different things to different people. It is a very personal experience, even akin to one’s religious beliefs for some.
The great thing about music is that it is a language that speaks to the emotions of a person and therefore cannot be qualified by someone else's subjective opinion. This is where I believe music critics err. Music is feeling. Music is color. Music is nothing short of magic itself. The simple fact that music has the ability to touch us in a way that nothing else can, is a testament to its magical qualities. Think about it. Music has its origins in the hearts and heads of its creators who, by an almost alchemical process, transmute these thoughts and vibrations into tangible patterns that reach out and touch another's soul. Anyone who hasn't gotten the chills from listening to a song needs to have their souls examined. There’s something almost ineffable in the appreciation of music.
Now, I'm not saying that one should approach music without a critical ear. It is natural to want to make distinctions based on favorable patterns, but no one else can give or take away the meaning that music brings to us. This is why I feel kindred to the lessons of Pink Floyd. The discipline of Led Zeppelin. The iconoclasm of the Beatles. Bands before my time who have not only transcended the human-to-human gap but also the generational gap.
I try to think of what it must have been like to hear these bands when they first came out as true innovators. Now I’m no Beatlemaniac by any stretch of the imagination, but I can certainly appreciate their music, especially when placed in the context of human history. The Beatles started out making mostly bubblegum-esque pop rock similar to other music of that era. Then they started getting weird. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is a prime example. Here was an album that cut against the grain for its time. Even more remarkable is the fact that the Beatles didn't have “The Beatles” to inspire them like so many other bands that were inspired by the Beatles. The sound they created was original and by God, even catchy!
I have received much scoffing over these observations by indignant classic rock patrons complaining that “You youngsters don't know what real music is,” as if my own personal connections with that music were somehow invalid because of my age, my second-hand discovery of it, or my surprise that it was so ahead of its time. I used to get offended by their admonitions, but now I just laugh to myself, wondering if the day will ever come when I will be the crotchety old-timer chastising the younger generation's notions of music, defending bands like Nirvana, perhaps. But until then, my goal is to listen to music with the same wonderment and fascination of the virgin y(ears) of my youth.
episode 002:
The Sound of Music
No quest to rediscover one's past would be complete without exploring their musical tastes. I’m not just talking about run-of-the-mill genre-surfing or a distillation of one's essence through musical hairsplitting. What I'm talking about is my own musical appreciation, irrespective of anyone else's experience or any other trend of the times. It seems like I have absorbed a lot of music out of sync from the times they were most popular, thus bypassing waves of fanaticism and death by radio. Bands like Led Zeppelin, Alice In Chains, Pink Floyd, and Tool are just a few examples of bands that I have come to appreciate as their popularity has waned.
As with fitness I believe that I have experienced music at a somewhat different pace than many other people. This is true not only within the context of my own musicianship but with the music that I have listened to for enjoyment. This music has, like none other, inspired, influenced and shaped me during very crucial times in my life. I find it fascinating to look back at my earliest musical experiences and see how differently my young mind had interpreted them, something more as an abstraction than as a comprehensive analytical experience.
When I listen back at some of these tunes with my adult mind, and years of hardened musical training, they sound different to me. This training has helped to tune my ear to the richness and depth that so much music contains. I am now able to pick out individual riffs, or bass lines, or intricacies in the vocals. I can picture in my head a session player as he or she lays down tracks in the studio. I can hear the subtleties invoked by the editing and engineering process. After all the years of music appearing to me as an enigma, I finally have a working knowledge of it.
Paradoxically however, as my training and experiences in music-making accumulated, so did my disillusionment with the process of producing commercial music. I have often wondered if this disenchantment would someday ruin my ability to simply enjoy music aside from the technical components that make it up. Would I be able to use my knowledge in order to deepen my enjoyment of music, or would I become like a musical mad-scientist, cynical and unappreciative of more simple compositions?
Like any discipline or craft I believe that one should never lose sight of their basic enjoyment of music. I don't think that there is a single person out there that doesn't enjoy music in some form or another. Music has a very personal meaning and significance to each person, each having his or her own musical journey which is as unique as their own fingerprint.
I used to lament over the possibility of my CD collection getting stolen back in the day when I still had CD’s, back before the digital revolution took over and made them practically obsolete. The thought of the sudden loss of my beloved music was indeed terrifying, not only because of the money invested, but more so because it was MY collection.
I remember the days of wandering through new and used CD shops listening with wonder at the treasures I found. I thought to myself that I would be devastated if someone snatched my collection (which numbered at about 700-800 discs by the time I went digital) because I had handpicked each one of these CDs and no one else could really appreciate them as I did. Sure, some enterprising sneak-thief could have made a modest fortune selling them. But all the time I spent harvesting the music, all the love I put into these particular songs and bands...well, like I said, the thought terrified me and fortunately my collection went un-stolen and remains with me to this day. Some of my friends were not so fortunate. But the point is that I spent, and still spend a great deal of time pursuing music, not only as a creator, but as a listener.
Some people listen to music as mere spectators, not having the slightest idea how to play a musical instrument, nor do they care to. They could care less about the inner workings of the record industry, or the studio recording process, or any other technical component involved in getting the music from the players to the listener’s ear. I used to hold these people in contempt for I was a: Maker of Music. Surely music meant more to us musicians who understood the language of music, who had the ability to dissect songs and point out what key- or time-signature they were in. Surely we who participated in the creation of music were the ones who really understood. But then I began to realize that music means different things to different people. It is a very personal experience, even akin to one’s religious beliefs for some.
The great thing about music is that it is a language that speaks to the emotions of a person and therefore cannot be qualified by someone else's subjective opinion. This is where I believe music critics err. Music is feeling. Music is color. Music is nothing short of magic itself. The simple fact that music has the ability to touch us in a way that nothing else can, is a testament to its magical qualities. Think about it. Music has its origins in the hearts and heads of its creators who, by an almost alchemical process, transmute these thoughts and vibrations into tangible patterns that reach out and touch another's soul. Anyone who hasn't gotten the chills from listening to a song needs to have their souls examined. There’s something almost ineffable in the appreciation of music.
Now, I'm not saying that one should approach music without a critical ear. It is natural to want to make distinctions based on favorable patterns, but no one else can give or take away the meaning that music brings to us. This is why I feel kindred to the lessons of Pink Floyd. The discipline of Led Zeppelin. The iconoclasm of the Beatles. Bands before my time who have not only transcended the human-to-human gap but also the generational gap.
I try to think of what it must have been like to hear these bands when they first came out as true innovators. Now I’m no Beatlemaniac by any stretch of the imagination, but I can certainly appreciate their music, especially when placed in the context of human history. The Beatles started out making mostly bubblegum-esque pop rock similar to other music of that era. Then they started getting weird. Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is a prime example. Here was an album that cut against the grain for its time. Even more remarkable is the fact that the Beatles didn't have “The Beatles” to inspire them like so many other bands that were inspired by the Beatles. The sound they created was original and by God, even catchy!
I have received much scoffing over these observations by indignant classic rock patrons complaining that “You youngsters don't know what real music is,” as if my own personal connections with that music were somehow invalid because of my age, my second-hand discovery of it, or my surprise that it was so ahead of its time. I used to get offended by their admonitions, but now I just laugh to myself, wondering if the day will ever come when I will be the crotchety old-timer chastising the younger generation's notions of music, defending bands like Nirvana, perhaps. But until then, my goal is to listen to music with the same wonderment and fascination of the virgin y(ears) of my youth.
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT ep.001
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT
episode 001:
SURVIVAL OF THE FITNESS
So I've been wracking my brain trying to decide where I should begin my experiment of digging into my past. I've settled on fitness. Aside from any New Year's resolutions I may or may not keep, I must ask myself, "Why is fitness important to me?"
Being close to the start of the New Year, it seems that most of the collective consciousness of society is geared towards fitness and weight loss. Actually, come to think of it, the concept of losing weight is relentlessly pounded into the collective psyche year-round these days; it's just a bit fiercer around this time of year. There is the pressure to lose all of those excess pounds gained from gorging on all that rich holiday food, typically in time for Beach Blanket Bingo in the summer. Advertising frantically conveys the urgency to shed the pounds and the message is reinforced by media icons and starlets who ultimately influence the behavior and habits of the masses, and so on, and so forth, and the whole machine keeps rolling on.
Like George W. Bush always said, "You've got to keep repeating the propaganda for people to believe it..." And so countless scores of people put themselves through the rigors of cycle-dieting, doomed to live a calorie/carb-centric life, obsessing over body-image, only to inevitably return to that which gives them comfort: FOOD. And for a good reason. Food is supposed to comfort us.
It's like a biological imperative. How many other life forms on this planet obsess over their body image? It seems that only humans could be so flamboyant towards something so survival-based.
But what does fitness mean to me personally? Fortunately, I was raised in a very fitness-conscious household, so I have been lucky enough to have those values instilled and reinforced in me during my childhood and teen years. But for all of my efforts, my own fitness always seemed out of sync with the rest of the world. I loathed all of those silly little exercises they make you do in gym class. They were boring, exhausting, and I didn't really excel at any of them. I wasn't into sports, or jock-like camaraderie. Gym class to me was just another way that the popular kids got to show their dominance, just like the good old days of sandbox rivalry.
I would stand by and watch the effortless physical prowess of my peers and wonder how they could virtually sprint the entire mile run. Or how they could fly up the climbing rope like some sort of weightless human-monkey hybrid. The only explanation for these seemingly abnormal feats of human capabilities I could think of is that they were the products of some freakish genetic experiment, or that they had had drill instructors for parents. Every time I did the mile run, I would heave and gasp for breath like an 80 year old smoker. Every time I tried to climb the rope, I made it about as high as the gym teacher's head. No, I didn't really see much value in these forced physical rituals.
Enter my post high school/early adult years. I got most of my exercise bicycling to and from work, racking up dozens of miles per day just in transportation. I look back on the experience and wonder how I ever kept going. The thought of bicycling 20 miles round trip per day through the slanted hills of Greenwood Village just to get to and from my day job, seems to me, today, as being daunting and excruciating. But there was a time when it was automatic.Maybe I have become stingy, over the years, over my choice of energy expenditure, selecting more comfortable venues. They say that people become more sedentary as the years go by, and I'm sure that it is true, but I have always thought of lifestyle as being a conscious choice.
I do realize now, that there were a great many things that used to come relatively easy to me. I rarely ever had to watch my weight or monitor the things I ate, or how many calories I burned, or any of that nonsense. Now it has become an ever-increasing theme in my life. Every little choice I make concerning food, diet, exercise, nutrition could have far-reaching consequences, not only of an aesthetic value, but more importantly, affecting my life-long health. It is all those things you hear as a kid, things that adults obsess over, then you realize that you are not invincible, and nothing lasts forever.
So I re-visit the question: Why is physical fitness important to me? There's always the looks factor, immortalized so eloquently by Kevin Spacey's character, Lester Burnham in the movie, American Beauty. When asked by his athletically-savy neighbors what his fitness goals were, he simply answered, "I want to look good naked!" Yes, there is that. But other than cosmetic reasons, why drive myself to the point of madness and exhaustion just so I can look at myself in the mirror and say, "Great BOD!"
I have never been a huge fan of trends, especially the kind that involves sycophantic posturing in order to be more acceptable in society-at-large. The truth (or the skinny, if you will), is that skinnier, and well-proportioned people tend to be comelier to the opposite sex, therefore generating more positive attention. This is obviously not true in every case for every person, but in the case of our society, it is mainstream to want to lose weight. You don't see advertisements on T.V. promoting massive weight gain. You see the opposite. But I think where things have gone wrong is where body image and self-esteem have become the image of what others think it should be, rather than a personal preference.
But it takes a lot of hard work to have and maintain that BOD. I don't care what anyone says about so-called "naturally skinny people." They are not natural. Either they starve themselves, have a drug habit, a tape worm, or some sort of personality disorder that causes them to fidget a lot. The only other way to stay thin is to work at it, whether it is achieved through a person's occupation, active lifestyle, or the dreaded D: dieting. The only reason why people in third world countries are skinny is because they are on the brink of starvation, not because they can't get enough of: America's Next Top Model.
That being said, I believe that there are many valid reasons to stay physically fit, with or without the BOD to show for it, and here are my reasons:
1. I want to live a good life. Now, this saying can be interpreted in many ways, but to me, the continued ability to experience the physical activities I enjoy, means living a richer life. Fitness is life-prolonging, age-defying, health-generating. I want to enjoy my life throughout the duration of my life, not just the brief window of my prime years.
2. Mobility. If I could sum up my fitness goals in one sentence, it would be something like this: My ultimate fitness goal is to maintain the ability to move my body through time and space. Once again, this could be a loosely interpreted concept, but to me it means that I am ultimately the captain of the good ship Chadstract. I can never become so dependent on vehicles that the sudden loss of them renders me paralyzed.
3. Survivalism. Ever hear the old adage: Survival of the fittest? Well, fittest=fitness. For reasons I will divulge in an upcoming episode, I believe that survival skills are going to be an indispensable asset to anyone that has the discipline to learn them. Before all of this technological wizardry came along to dazzle and distract us, humans were more in touch with the natural order of things. The reliance upon modern societal conveniences has enabled me to distance myself from nature to directly provide my needs. If I want to hunt and gather, I go to Burger King and King Soopers. But ultimately, this is not a sustainable practice. Corporations and the World economy might just let me down someday, and it will be up to me to survive in the wild.
Animals in the wild are naturally fit because they have to be in order to survive. Roughing it, as it were, is about as natural as it comes, and if IT-ALL-COMES-DOWN, the more physically fit I am, the more I will be able to endure the hardships that such a paradigm shift would imply.
The world is tough. The world is cruel. Nature does not make distinctions based on moral fortitude and good intentions. If my intent is to live, then I need to possess the strength to really live. If my intent is to live, then I want to live well. What is living well? The strength to keep getting up everyday, to take me where I need to go, and a body that's in it for the long haul.
--C.H.
episode 001:
SURVIVAL OF THE FITNESS
So I've been wracking my brain trying to decide where I should begin my experiment of digging into my past. I've settled on fitness. Aside from any New Year's resolutions I may or may not keep, I must ask myself, "Why is fitness important to me?"
Being close to the start of the New Year, it seems that most of the collective consciousness of society is geared towards fitness and weight loss. Actually, come to think of it, the concept of losing weight is relentlessly pounded into the collective psyche year-round these days; it's just a bit fiercer around this time of year. There is the pressure to lose all of those excess pounds gained from gorging on all that rich holiday food, typically in time for Beach Blanket Bingo in the summer. Advertising frantically conveys the urgency to shed the pounds and the message is reinforced by media icons and starlets who ultimately influence the behavior and habits of the masses, and so on, and so forth, and the whole machine keeps rolling on.
Like George W. Bush always said, "You've got to keep repeating the propaganda for people to believe it..." And so countless scores of people put themselves through the rigors of cycle-dieting, doomed to live a calorie/carb-centric life, obsessing over body-image, only to inevitably return to that which gives them comfort: FOOD. And for a good reason. Food is supposed to comfort us.
It's like a biological imperative. How many other life forms on this planet obsess over their body image? It seems that only humans could be so flamboyant towards something so survival-based.
But what does fitness mean to me personally? Fortunately, I was raised in a very fitness-conscious household, so I have been lucky enough to have those values instilled and reinforced in me during my childhood and teen years. But for all of my efforts, my own fitness always seemed out of sync with the rest of the world. I loathed all of those silly little exercises they make you do in gym class. They were boring, exhausting, and I didn't really excel at any of them. I wasn't into sports, or jock-like camaraderie. Gym class to me was just another way that the popular kids got to show their dominance, just like the good old days of sandbox rivalry.
I would stand by and watch the effortless physical prowess of my peers and wonder how they could virtually sprint the entire mile run. Or how they could fly up the climbing rope like some sort of weightless human-monkey hybrid. The only explanation for these seemingly abnormal feats of human capabilities I could think of is that they were the products of some freakish genetic experiment, or that they had had drill instructors for parents. Every time I did the mile run, I would heave and gasp for breath like an 80 year old smoker. Every time I tried to climb the rope, I made it about as high as the gym teacher's head. No, I didn't really see much value in these forced physical rituals.
Enter my post high school/early adult years. I got most of my exercise bicycling to and from work, racking up dozens of miles per day just in transportation. I look back on the experience and wonder how I ever kept going. The thought of bicycling 20 miles round trip per day through the slanted hills of Greenwood Village just to get to and from my day job, seems to me, today, as being daunting and excruciating. But there was a time when it was automatic.Maybe I have become stingy, over the years, over my choice of energy expenditure, selecting more comfortable venues. They say that people become more sedentary as the years go by, and I'm sure that it is true, but I have always thought of lifestyle as being a conscious choice.
I do realize now, that there were a great many things that used to come relatively easy to me. I rarely ever had to watch my weight or monitor the things I ate, or how many calories I burned, or any of that nonsense. Now it has become an ever-increasing theme in my life. Every little choice I make concerning food, diet, exercise, nutrition could have far-reaching consequences, not only of an aesthetic value, but more importantly, affecting my life-long health. It is all those things you hear as a kid, things that adults obsess over, then you realize that you are not invincible, and nothing lasts forever.
So I re-visit the question: Why is physical fitness important to me? There's always the looks factor, immortalized so eloquently by Kevin Spacey's character, Lester Burnham in the movie, American Beauty. When asked by his athletically-savy neighbors what his fitness goals were, he simply answered, "I want to look good naked!" Yes, there is that. But other than cosmetic reasons, why drive myself to the point of madness and exhaustion just so I can look at myself in the mirror and say, "Great BOD!"
I have never been a huge fan of trends, especially the kind that involves sycophantic posturing in order to be more acceptable in society-at-large. The truth (or the skinny, if you will), is that skinnier, and well-proportioned people tend to be comelier to the opposite sex, therefore generating more positive attention. This is obviously not true in every case for every person, but in the case of our society, it is mainstream to want to lose weight. You don't see advertisements on T.V. promoting massive weight gain. You see the opposite. But I think where things have gone wrong is where body image and self-esteem have become the image of what others think it should be, rather than a personal preference.
But it takes a lot of hard work to have and maintain that BOD. I don't care what anyone says about so-called "naturally skinny people." They are not natural. Either they starve themselves, have a drug habit, a tape worm, or some sort of personality disorder that causes them to fidget a lot. The only other way to stay thin is to work at it, whether it is achieved through a person's occupation, active lifestyle, or the dreaded D: dieting. The only reason why people in third world countries are skinny is because they are on the brink of starvation, not because they can't get enough of: America's Next Top Model.
That being said, I believe that there are many valid reasons to stay physically fit, with or without the BOD to show for it, and here are my reasons:
1. I want to live a good life. Now, this saying can be interpreted in many ways, but to me, the continued ability to experience the physical activities I enjoy, means living a richer life. Fitness is life-prolonging, age-defying, health-generating. I want to enjoy my life throughout the duration of my life, not just the brief window of my prime years.
2. Mobility. If I could sum up my fitness goals in one sentence, it would be something like this: My ultimate fitness goal is to maintain the ability to move my body through time and space. Once again, this could be a loosely interpreted concept, but to me it means that I am ultimately the captain of the good ship Chadstract. I can never become so dependent on vehicles that the sudden loss of them renders me paralyzed.
3. Survivalism. Ever hear the old adage: Survival of the fittest? Well, fittest=fitness. For reasons I will divulge in an upcoming episode, I believe that survival skills are going to be an indispensable asset to anyone that has the discipline to learn them. Before all of this technological wizardry came along to dazzle and distract us, humans were more in touch with the natural order of things. The reliance upon modern societal conveniences has enabled me to distance myself from nature to directly provide my needs. If I want to hunt and gather, I go to Burger King and King Soopers. But ultimately, this is not a sustainable practice. Corporations and the World economy might just let me down someday, and it will be up to me to survive in the wild.
Animals in the wild are naturally fit because they have to be in order to survive. Roughing it, as it were, is about as natural as it comes, and if IT-ALL-COMES-DOWN, the more physically fit I am, the more I will be able to endure the hardships that such a paradigm shift would imply.
The world is tough. The world is cruel. Nature does not make distinctions based on moral fortitude and good intentions. If my intent is to live, then I need to possess the strength to really live. If my intent is to live, then I want to live well. What is living well? The strength to keep getting up everyday, to take me where I need to go, and a body that's in it for the long haul.
--C.H.
Friday, May 29, 2009
THE PAST LIFE EXPERIMENT
There are times when I look at my life and where I am at and wonder, “How did I get here?” Not in the existential sense of the phrase, but more accurately, “How did I arrive at this point?” It is during these times that I often view my present circumstances the way an archaeologist looks at the remnants of past civilizations. A shard of pottery here, a point of arrowhead there, a treasure trove of skeletal remains strewn about. I look at my art, my music, and my literature as being like these remains. Sometimes they are as mysterious and alien to me as a tattered tapestry whose fragments are scattered, lost, incomplete. What inspired me to create these things? What motivated me? What is the relevance of my work? Where is it going? What is it all leading to? In my adventures of venturing, have my ambitions become too big for me, or is one lifetime too small to contain all of my ambitions?
I will try to answer these questions by doing some serious soul-searching. I have labeled it, The Past Life Experiment. During the course of the year, I will re-visit my past through memories, songs, ideas, challenges, past-times, and other various love-to-dos, all in an effort to re-introduce myself to myself.
Throughout life, as we grow and change, I believe that we incrementally become different people for better or worse. In light of the brief gems of achievement that we experience, it is easy to forget the monumental struggle that has molded us and allowed us those fleeting, shining moments. It has taken me 30 years to become the person that I am in this moment in time. Maybe it will take me another 30 to reacquaint myself with those things that fundamentally got me to this point. But as I take the time for reverie, I am still moving forwards in time, still progressing (or am I regressing?). Therefore, I might be playing a futile game of cosmic “catch-up,” in which my quest to keep my past alive hinders my ability to live in the present. This experiment is my attempt to join memory with forward motion. In short, this is my attempt to remember.
This soul-searching extends beyond the scope of my various crafts and lies at the heart of my identity, or, at least, what my identity has come to mean to me. What will I find when I till the soil of my past life, loves, and losses? I must admit that I am a little scared of what I will discover. But perhaps I will re-discover parts of me that have been forgotten or dormant. Perhaps I will re-invent myself, or maybe I will lose myself completely. Either way, I’m just going to go with this and see where it leads me, what it takes to be me, and hopefully answer the question, “Is it still possible to be me?”
I will try to answer these questions by doing some serious soul-searching. I have labeled it, The Past Life Experiment. During the course of the year, I will re-visit my past through memories, songs, ideas, challenges, past-times, and other various love-to-dos, all in an effort to re-introduce myself to myself.
Throughout life, as we grow and change, I believe that we incrementally become different people for better or worse. In light of the brief gems of achievement that we experience, it is easy to forget the monumental struggle that has molded us and allowed us those fleeting, shining moments. It has taken me 30 years to become the person that I am in this moment in time. Maybe it will take me another 30 to reacquaint myself with those things that fundamentally got me to this point. But as I take the time for reverie, I am still moving forwards in time, still progressing (or am I regressing?). Therefore, I might be playing a futile game of cosmic “catch-up,” in which my quest to keep my past alive hinders my ability to live in the present. This experiment is my attempt to join memory with forward motion. In short, this is my attempt to remember.
This soul-searching extends beyond the scope of my various crafts and lies at the heart of my identity, or, at least, what my identity has come to mean to me. What will I find when I till the soil of my past life, loves, and losses? I must admit that I am a little scared of what I will discover. But perhaps I will re-discover parts of me that have been forgotten or dormant. Perhaps I will re-invent myself, or maybe I will lose myself completely. Either way, I’m just going to go with this and see where it leads me, what it takes to be me, and hopefully answer the question, “Is it still possible to be me?”
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Psychology of Christianity Part III
"...I know that the Lord is always on the side of the right. But it is my constant anxiety and prayer that I and this nation should be on the Lord's side." -- Abraham Lincoln
The Role of Satan
One of the common threads within the structure of the myth is the hero. This person is usually the central character in the story who must overcome adversity to triumph in the end or learn some valuable truth. There are many heroes within the pages of the Bible, but arguably, Jesus stands out as the central character. For every hero, there is also the villain or antagonist. This character represents challenge or adversity to the goals of the hero. In the case of the Bible, this character is none other than the mega-villain, Satan.
Typically, Satan is attributed to any sort of force opposing God’s work. Apparently, Satan is able to enter the human mind at will, speaking with a voice that is at least as clear as God’s own voice. So insidious is Satan, that he is able to organize sinners and angels to rebel against God. With a work ethic that must rival only God’s own, Satan works tirelessly to subvert the thoughts and minds of vulnerable humans, causing them to sin. He is also conveniently the force behind any doubtful assessment or contradictory criticism against Christianity itself. The eternal souls of humanity are what hangs in the balance of this cosmic tug of war between God and Satan. The Bible foretells of Satan’s ultimate demise (20:10), but despite this, he is as determined as ever to win his share of souls.
Satan has bore many names throughout the Bible including the Devil, Interloper, Adversary, Deceiver, Serpent, among others. While all of these personas, in actuality, were written in context as different characters, they have been generalized into one all-encapsulating villain.
What fascinates me is the degree to which “Believers” use Satan as a scapegoat. Blaming some unseen malicious character for the cause of evil that exists within humankind is a useful way to remain aloof from owning up to “sinful” impulses and behaviors as being part of the whole self. It is also a rather convenient reason to have God around. Many modern Christians especially like to embellish the idea that Satan is powerful enough to keep a person from hearing God’s voice. When challenged as to the Devil’s purported omni-pervasiveness as being equivalent to God’s, Christians often demur, claiming that Satan has multitudes under his command like some kind of grand army or bureaucracy. According to the way in which Satan is presented by the Church, he is at the very least, extremely efficient at what he does, lurking around every corner of the mind, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to inspire those of us who are susceptible to sin.
This whole idea plays into the fantasy of some grand cosmic drama taking place with humans placed at the center. This is not the only instance of a human-centric philosophy. Throughout our existence, humans have tended to believe in a misunderstood presumption that we are at the center of everything. We once believed that we were the axis of the which the sun revolved around, for instance. Unrestrained, the human ego may think that it is central to everything, and all else is a mechanism designed for the purpose of facilitating the ego. This is evident within Bible literature, whereas humans were given dominion over the Earth by God (Genesis 1:28). This is yet another representation of the cultural bias of the monarchial system, where one group rules over all others with God sitting on his throne at the top of it all. This is both exploitative and imbalanced with the order of ecology, a subject of little or no importance to the traditions of the Bible.
But each time the veil of understanding is lifted a little further, our perspective shifts, and we realize that the universe is much bigger and more complex than we have understood. The more we learn about the universe, the more we see that we are mutual players with other organisms and realize our interdependence with the whole scheme of totality. If drama is what the average "Believer" seeks, what better than the infinitesimally complex grander drama of interconnectedness that exists between all organisms, rather than the simplistic, limited scope that the Bible presents?
Heaven or Hell...Flip A Coin
"If you died tomorrow, do you know where you'll go?" Such rhetoric is intended to provoke doubt in the un-"Believer," and project some sort of secret knowledge from the part of the "Believer" as to the afterlife. Inevitably, any serious debate about Christianity will land on whether or not a given person will end up in Heaven or Hell. This is usually the final arguing point of any devout Christian, the proverbial “ace up the sleeve.” This argument doesn’t hold up to basic logic however. If God (the big ’G,’ remember?), is omnipresent, or is everywhere, then how can there exist a place where He/She/It is not? Furthermore, the idea of Hell surely illustrates God’s un-love. If He/She/It loves us all, as the Bible clearly says, why would anyone be sent to Hell?
The whole premise of Christianity only works if you believe in Heaven and Hell. The idea that humans are potentially Hellbound comes from the Biblical concept of original sin found in Genesis, chapter 3. According to the Scriptures, Adam and Eve sinned by rebelling against God who, in turn, doomed all of their offspring (the entirety of humankind) to the potentiality of sin and death. This fundamental belief asserts that all humans, babies included, are born as "marked souls," whether or not they have committed any sins. This puts every person in the rather unfortunate position of automatically requiring a Savior and therefore, the institution of Christianity.
The concept of Heaven/Hell polarization reveals much about the psychology of Christianity. Firstly, it reveals the Christian’s obsession with judgment of Earthly, or material matters. To equate one’s short-term actions in this transitory world as having eternal consequences worthy of Heaven or Hell is both unrealistic and shortsighted. Surely when one dies, the agendas and values of their Earthly existence cease to matter, or at the very least, change. For example, you can’t take your house, or cars or worldly prestige, or accomplishments with you to the grave; once you’re dead, you’re dead. Even if there is a Heaven or Hell, the things that matter to us now surely pale in comparison to the things that are eternal. If one has the scope of eternity, how miniscule the dealings and drama of Earth would be. It is only through our short-sighted human eyes that we get caught up in the act.
Another aspect of the Heaven/Hell concept is how Christians use it as a point of exclusion. Essentially, if you are a Christian, you belong to an exclusive club. But it is only through another Christian that a person can find out about this club and join in. Once you are in, you will be rewarded with eternal life. If you don’t accept, you will suffer eternal damnation. This is an example of in- and out-grouping. One group has the “inside scoop” on matters dealing with eternity, a subject to which humans are dismally suited to explain. This in-group believes that they are in touch with God and therefore have the ability to mediate between He/She/It and the others, or out-group. This comes out in the form of judgment, self-righteousness, exclusion, and many other negative forms of separatism. This divisiveness extends into nearly every aspect of Christian principles which are deeply rooted in the belief of possessing “God’s favor” through “divine right.” This is at best annoying, and at worst, deadly. How is it that Christians feel that they are more qualified to discuss matters of the afterlife, than non-"Believers?"
The in-group maintains that they are God’s spokespeople in a world where God’s voice is conspicuously absent. Their only “proof” is the subjective method of “hearing God’s voice, and relying on the Bible, a flawed and fallible collection of culturally-biased, humanly-tainted, and politically-motivated literature. Who could ever argue against those who claim to be right with God? Here is a case of one group of humans trying to lever superiority over another group of humans based on the dubious claims of in-group mentality. Who feels compelled to dissent if they are the ones on the "winning side?"
Feeling Rapturous anyone?
The idea of the Rapture, the eschatological event which heralds the second coming of Jesus Christ and the subsequent rescuing of the Church by him, is a fascinating concept. True “Believers” alive and dead will be swept away with Jesus in the clouds, sparing them from the horrors of the ensuing Tribulations that will envelop the Earth. A whole industry has sprung forth from this idea. Fictional book series proposing possible "Doomsday" scenarios have become bestsellers. Websites such as "RaptureReady.com," have sprung up, promoting preparedness for the coming Rapture. In extreme cases, "Believers" might refrain from any sort of financial investment towards the future, as they are convinced that Jesus will return in their time.
There have been many anticipatory Doomsday cult-like groups that have emerged over the last 2000 years, each fervently believing that it will be their generation that will witness the second coming of Christ. The political map of the world has indeed changed, witnessing robust empires rising and falling, which has influenced the tides of perception towards "End-Times" events, but still no second coming.
The concept of the Rapture illustrates a deeper desire for escapism among Christians. By design, the Rapture implies both a fast track to escape the coming calamities that God will unleash upon the Earth, and a means to "live on" by never actually dying. This thirst for the Rapture among eager "Believers" is congruent with their fetish towards immortality. Immortality is arguably, the most extreme form of ego attachment that exists. It is completely askew from the natural order that can be observed within nature. Death is just as natural a part of life as birth, and to try to escape death is a futile endeavor.
The Christian's aversion to death betrays their underlying fear of death. To most people, the idea of losing it all, the ground they've gained, the honor, the lessons, knowledge, and acquisition that comes from experiencing life is a dreadful thought. But to the eternal traveler, the journey goes ever on. It is only the ego that we fear to lose in the transition from this life to the next.
The escape from impending Earthly doom alludes to a deeper belief in the Earth as being a diseased, temporary planet. Just as God opted for a do-over according to Genesis 6, leading to the Great Flood and subsequent annihilation of life on Earth, He is foretold to seek vengeance against future generations by means of the Great Tribulation and destruction of Heaven and Earth. If one believes in such stories, they also believe that this world is a temporary, sickly planet which will be destroyed by God who will create a new Heaven and Earth. If this is true, why put forth energy into any sort of ecological conservation? This view is practiced in part, by those who put off any sort of future plans or investment into the environment and future generations, who claim that it is pointless to be good custodians of the Earth when clearly the Bible states that there will be a new Earth. They view humans as somehow being separate from everything else. Christians are taught that the world belongs to the Devil, and will be subsequently destroyed with him.
Putting It All Together
So what does all of this mean? Why have I spent so much time and energy on the subject of the psychology of Christianity? The sheer organizational capacity and staggering industry of Christianity should be a cause of concern among moderate-thinking individuals. Do I believe that Christians are inherently evil? By no means am I suggesting that the sincere believer in higher morals is out of touch with reality or has no inspiration toward doing good. Obviously, there are those who draw inspiration from the example of Jesus, and are therefore motivated in a positive direction. Sincere practitioners from different faiths have done the world at large a good service. But it is the very practice of division, exclusion, bigotry, intolerance, and absolutism that the extreme dogmatism of the Bible promotes, and which inherently undermines the greater need for progressive humanitarian objectives. Just as the institution of slavery has been abolished in most civilized societies, so should religious intolerance. There has been no greater need for humanity to draw together under the umbrella of our common inheritance.
We are at a crucial moment in our history, as the lines between church and state have been blurred in a frenzy of fearmongering brought on by fundamentalist groups pushing their agendas. The ultimate direction that they would take us is a new American Theocracy based on Christianity. This movement has used "freedom of religion" to promote their agenda, but in actuality, they would use this precept of liberty to undermine religious freedoms from other religious groups in America. Pastors and other Church leaders continuously flaunt our nation's laws against campaigning for, or endorsing political causes from the pulpit, which is in violation of their tax-exempt status as a non-profit organization. According to section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Service code, organizations with this classification are prohibited from conducting political campaign activities to influence elections to public office. This nation, contrary to popular belief, was not founded as a Christian nation, but a strongly secular one. Regardless of the spiritual leanings of the Founding Fathers, they advocated the separation of church and state, which, like parts the Bible, some Christians have conveniently chosen to ignore.
We live in a dangerous time when our elected leaders skillfully use Christianity to appeal to those who believe that current world events are tied to the whole storybook fantasy of the Bible and exploit this belief to spread fear, hate, and push America back towards a society of intolerance. For those Christians who have taken to warmongering and believe in a militant Christian nation, I would direct them to the teachings of Jesus, who advocated peace, turning the other cheek, and loving one's enemies (Luke 6:27-31). Jesus was an iconoclast, fervently anti-imperialist and who scoffed at the institutional religions of the time. These are undeniable facts about the teachings and philosophy of the central character that Christianity is based around. So before you rush to call yourself a "Christian," or follower of Christ, you might want to study and really learn about what he stood for. There's some good stuff in there...
FINAL NOTE:
This essay on the psychology of Christianity has been a labor of love for me. It is something that I have had in the works for a very long time, and it feels good to finally have it finished. It has taken me years of working through the psychological damage of indoctrination and oppression that the institution of Christianity brought to be able to articulate my feelings on the matter. There are many forms of prison, some without bars, and some that we create for ourselves. Now that I have put aside the blinders of Christianity, I have been able to experience a richer, fuller life and to seek a much broader divinity, which I believe, resides within each and every one of us.
The Role of Satan
One of the common threads within the structure of the myth is the hero. This person is usually the central character in the story who must overcome adversity to triumph in the end or learn some valuable truth. There are many heroes within the pages of the Bible, but arguably, Jesus stands out as the central character. For every hero, there is also the villain or antagonist. This character represents challenge or adversity to the goals of the hero. In the case of the Bible, this character is none other than the mega-villain, Satan.
Typically, Satan is attributed to any sort of force opposing God’s work. Apparently, Satan is able to enter the human mind at will, speaking with a voice that is at least as clear as God’s own voice. So insidious is Satan, that he is able to organize sinners and angels to rebel against God. With a work ethic that must rival only God’s own, Satan works tirelessly to subvert the thoughts and minds of vulnerable humans, causing them to sin. He is also conveniently the force behind any doubtful assessment or contradictory criticism against Christianity itself. The eternal souls of humanity are what hangs in the balance of this cosmic tug of war between God and Satan. The Bible foretells of Satan’s ultimate demise (20:10), but despite this, he is as determined as ever to win his share of souls.
Satan has bore many names throughout the Bible including the Devil, Interloper, Adversary, Deceiver, Serpent, among others. While all of these personas, in actuality, were written in context as different characters, they have been generalized into one all-encapsulating villain.
What fascinates me is the degree to which “Believers” use Satan as a scapegoat. Blaming some unseen malicious character for the cause of evil that exists within humankind is a useful way to remain aloof from owning up to “sinful” impulses and behaviors as being part of the whole self. It is also a rather convenient reason to have God around. Many modern Christians especially like to embellish the idea that Satan is powerful enough to keep a person from hearing God’s voice. When challenged as to the Devil’s purported omni-pervasiveness as being equivalent to God’s, Christians often demur, claiming that Satan has multitudes under his command like some kind of grand army or bureaucracy. According to the way in which Satan is presented by the Church, he is at the very least, extremely efficient at what he does, lurking around every corner of the mind, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to inspire those of us who are susceptible to sin.
This whole idea plays into the fantasy of some grand cosmic drama taking place with humans placed at the center. This is not the only instance of a human-centric philosophy. Throughout our existence, humans have tended to believe in a misunderstood presumption that we are at the center of everything. We once believed that we were the axis of the which the sun revolved around, for instance. Unrestrained, the human ego may think that it is central to everything, and all else is a mechanism designed for the purpose of facilitating the ego. This is evident within Bible literature, whereas humans were given dominion over the Earth by God (Genesis 1:28). This is yet another representation of the cultural bias of the monarchial system, where one group rules over all others with God sitting on his throne at the top of it all. This is both exploitative and imbalanced with the order of ecology, a subject of little or no importance to the traditions of the Bible.
But each time the veil of understanding is lifted a little further, our perspective shifts, and we realize that the universe is much bigger and more complex than we have understood. The more we learn about the universe, the more we see that we are mutual players with other organisms and realize our interdependence with the whole scheme of totality. If drama is what the average "Believer" seeks, what better than the infinitesimally complex grander drama of interconnectedness that exists between all organisms, rather than the simplistic, limited scope that the Bible presents?
Heaven or Hell...Flip A Coin
"If you died tomorrow, do you know where you'll go?" Such rhetoric is intended to provoke doubt in the un-"Believer," and project some sort of secret knowledge from the part of the "Believer" as to the afterlife. Inevitably, any serious debate about Christianity will land on whether or not a given person will end up in Heaven or Hell. This is usually the final arguing point of any devout Christian, the proverbial “ace up the sleeve.” This argument doesn’t hold up to basic logic however. If God (the big ’G,’ remember?), is omnipresent, or is everywhere, then how can there exist a place where He/She/It is not? Furthermore, the idea of Hell surely illustrates God’s un-love. If He/She/It loves us all, as the Bible clearly says, why would anyone be sent to Hell?
The whole premise of Christianity only works if you believe in Heaven and Hell. The idea that humans are potentially Hellbound comes from the Biblical concept of original sin found in Genesis, chapter 3. According to the Scriptures, Adam and Eve sinned by rebelling against God who, in turn, doomed all of their offspring (the entirety of humankind) to the potentiality of sin and death. This fundamental belief asserts that all humans, babies included, are born as "marked souls," whether or not they have committed any sins. This puts every person in the rather unfortunate position of automatically requiring a Savior and therefore, the institution of Christianity.
The concept of Heaven/Hell polarization reveals much about the psychology of Christianity. Firstly, it reveals the Christian’s obsession with judgment of Earthly, or material matters. To equate one’s short-term actions in this transitory world as having eternal consequences worthy of Heaven or Hell is both unrealistic and shortsighted. Surely when one dies, the agendas and values of their Earthly existence cease to matter, or at the very least, change. For example, you can’t take your house, or cars or worldly prestige, or accomplishments with you to the grave; once you’re dead, you’re dead. Even if there is a Heaven or Hell, the things that matter to us now surely pale in comparison to the things that are eternal. If one has the scope of eternity, how miniscule the dealings and drama of Earth would be. It is only through our short-sighted human eyes that we get caught up in the act.
Another aspect of the Heaven/Hell concept is how Christians use it as a point of exclusion. Essentially, if you are a Christian, you belong to an exclusive club. But it is only through another Christian that a person can find out about this club and join in. Once you are in, you will be rewarded with eternal life. If you don’t accept, you will suffer eternal damnation. This is an example of in- and out-grouping. One group has the “inside scoop” on matters dealing with eternity, a subject to which humans are dismally suited to explain. This in-group believes that they are in touch with God and therefore have the ability to mediate between He/She/It and the others, or out-group. This comes out in the form of judgment, self-righteousness, exclusion, and many other negative forms of separatism. This divisiveness extends into nearly every aspect of Christian principles which are deeply rooted in the belief of possessing “God’s favor” through “divine right.” This is at best annoying, and at worst, deadly. How is it that Christians feel that they are more qualified to discuss matters of the afterlife, than non-"Believers?"
The in-group maintains that they are God’s spokespeople in a world where God’s voice is conspicuously absent. Their only “proof” is the subjective method of “hearing God’s voice, and relying on the Bible, a flawed and fallible collection of culturally-biased, humanly-tainted, and politically-motivated literature. Who could ever argue against those who claim to be right with God? Here is a case of one group of humans trying to lever superiority over another group of humans based on the dubious claims of in-group mentality. Who feels compelled to dissent if they are the ones on the "winning side?"
Feeling Rapturous anyone?
The idea of the Rapture, the eschatological event which heralds the second coming of Jesus Christ and the subsequent rescuing of the Church by him, is a fascinating concept. True “Believers” alive and dead will be swept away with Jesus in the clouds, sparing them from the horrors of the ensuing Tribulations that will envelop the Earth. A whole industry has sprung forth from this idea. Fictional book series proposing possible "Doomsday" scenarios have become bestsellers. Websites such as "RaptureReady.com," have sprung up, promoting preparedness for the coming Rapture. In extreme cases, "Believers" might refrain from any sort of financial investment towards the future, as they are convinced that Jesus will return in their time.
There have been many anticipatory Doomsday cult-like groups that have emerged over the last 2000 years, each fervently believing that it will be their generation that will witness the second coming of Christ. The political map of the world has indeed changed, witnessing robust empires rising and falling, which has influenced the tides of perception towards "End-Times" events, but still no second coming.
The concept of the Rapture illustrates a deeper desire for escapism among Christians. By design, the Rapture implies both a fast track to escape the coming calamities that God will unleash upon the Earth, and a means to "live on" by never actually dying. This thirst for the Rapture among eager "Believers" is congruent with their fetish towards immortality. Immortality is arguably, the most extreme form of ego attachment that exists. It is completely askew from the natural order that can be observed within nature. Death is just as natural a part of life as birth, and to try to escape death is a futile endeavor.
The Christian's aversion to death betrays their underlying fear of death. To most people, the idea of losing it all, the ground they've gained, the honor, the lessons, knowledge, and acquisition that comes from experiencing life is a dreadful thought. But to the eternal traveler, the journey goes ever on. It is only the ego that we fear to lose in the transition from this life to the next.
The escape from impending Earthly doom alludes to a deeper belief in the Earth as being a diseased, temporary planet. Just as God opted for a do-over according to Genesis 6, leading to the Great Flood and subsequent annihilation of life on Earth, He is foretold to seek vengeance against future generations by means of the Great Tribulation and destruction of Heaven and Earth. If one believes in such stories, they also believe that this world is a temporary, sickly planet which will be destroyed by God who will create a new Heaven and Earth. If this is true, why put forth energy into any sort of ecological conservation? This view is practiced in part, by those who put off any sort of future plans or investment into the environment and future generations, who claim that it is pointless to be good custodians of the Earth when clearly the Bible states that there will be a new Earth. They view humans as somehow being separate from everything else. Christians are taught that the world belongs to the Devil, and will be subsequently destroyed with him.
Putting It All Together
So what does all of this mean? Why have I spent so much time and energy on the subject of the psychology of Christianity? The sheer organizational capacity and staggering industry of Christianity should be a cause of concern among moderate-thinking individuals. Do I believe that Christians are inherently evil? By no means am I suggesting that the sincere believer in higher morals is out of touch with reality or has no inspiration toward doing good. Obviously, there are those who draw inspiration from the example of Jesus, and are therefore motivated in a positive direction. Sincere practitioners from different faiths have done the world at large a good service. But it is the very practice of division, exclusion, bigotry, intolerance, and absolutism that the extreme dogmatism of the Bible promotes, and which inherently undermines the greater need for progressive humanitarian objectives. Just as the institution of slavery has been abolished in most civilized societies, so should religious intolerance. There has been no greater need for humanity to draw together under the umbrella of our common inheritance.
We are at a crucial moment in our history, as the lines between church and state have been blurred in a frenzy of fearmongering brought on by fundamentalist groups pushing their agendas. The ultimate direction that they would take us is a new American Theocracy based on Christianity. This movement has used "freedom of religion" to promote their agenda, but in actuality, they would use this precept of liberty to undermine religious freedoms from other religious groups in America. Pastors and other Church leaders continuously flaunt our nation's laws against campaigning for, or endorsing political causes from the pulpit, which is in violation of their tax-exempt status as a non-profit organization. According to section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Service code, organizations with this classification are prohibited from conducting political campaign activities to influence elections to public office. This nation, contrary to popular belief, was not founded as a Christian nation, but a strongly secular one. Regardless of the spiritual leanings of the Founding Fathers, they advocated the separation of church and state, which, like parts the Bible, some Christians have conveniently chosen to ignore.
We live in a dangerous time when our elected leaders skillfully use Christianity to appeal to those who believe that current world events are tied to the whole storybook fantasy of the Bible and exploit this belief to spread fear, hate, and push America back towards a society of intolerance. For those Christians who have taken to warmongering and believe in a militant Christian nation, I would direct them to the teachings of Jesus, who advocated peace, turning the other cheek, and loving one's enemies (Luke 6:27-31). Jesus was an iconoclast, fervently anti-imperialist and who scoffed at the institutional religions of the time. These are undeniable facts about the teachings and philosophy of the central character that Christianity is based around. So before you rush to call yourself a "Christian," or follower of Christ, you might want to study and really learn about what he stood for. There's some good stuff in there...
FINAL NOTE:
This essay on the psychology of Christianity has been a labor of love for me. It is something that I have had in the works for a very long time, and it feels good to finally have it finished. It has taken me years of working through the psychological damage of indoctrination and oppression that the institution of Christianity brought to be able to articulate my feelings on the matter. There are many forms of prison, some without bars, and some that we create for ourselves. Now that I have put aside the blinders of Christianity, I have been able to experience a richer, fuller life and to seek a much broader divinity, which I believe, resides within each and every one of us.
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