I’ve moved…
Oh I’ve been writing it all down, and my soul is growing. But I found a far superior place to host this blog. Get in touch with me if you want the link. Till we meet again.
In the trenches of life
If man is the more normal, healthy and happy, the more he can successfully repress, displace, deny, rationalize, dramatize himself and deceive others, then it follows that the suffering of the neurotic comes from painful truth. Spiritually the neurotic has been long where psychoanalysis wants to bring him to without being able to, namely at the point of seeing through the deception of the world of sense, the falsity of reality. He suffers, not from all the pathological mechanism that are psychically necessary for living, but in the refusals of these mechanisms that is just what robs him of the illusions important for living. He is much nearer to the actual truth psychologically than the others and it is just that from which he suffers. – Otto Rank (From The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker, a Pulizer winner in ‘73 and by far the most important book I have ever read, by a huge margin. Although not perfect, it examined me while I read it, brought me to rolling tears of honesty multiple times and made me realize what I was searching for. It’s changed my life.)
As Ivor told me… just write it out, that’s how guys like us heal and grow. It’s our form of art.
Before I start: Thank you to Josh for going through this with me (you know my mind better than anyone), to Catherine for teaching me so much about what really matters in my life, to Maggie for letting me feel I’m not crazy for pushing my thoughts so hard and finally to Edmund for knowing we share different opinions but not letting it jeopardize our lifelong friendship. This is for you guys and for perhaps for my future kids to see what made their father the man he is, faults, talents, faith and all.
I’m usually very happy about life and stoked for what it has to offer and lately I’ve lost a good chunk of that deep hope and happiness. Sure I will be eating some of my old words, but when I’m wrong I am glad I found out as soon as possible. The unhappiness was just the shift I needed, to truly feel loneliness is overwhelming but it taught me in a way that nothing else could. What brought me to this unhappiness? Disillusionment.
Imagine what it would be like to see things as they really are, to truly know nothing and see the illusion of reality. There is a balance I’m finding out and have come to grips that to be normal you have to be in a illusion to some degree. I don’t want the whole truth anymore. Finally I feel that I arrived at the heavy gate to reality. Pushing it open all that greeted me was lonely neurosis (Def: Neurosis is a “catch all” term that refers to any mental imbalance that causes distress, but, unlike a psychosis or some personality disorders, does not prevent rational thought or an individual’s ability to function in daily life.)
I looked at what kind of life continual truth searching had to offer and shook my head, no thanks. Truth will set you free? To a certain point, keep peeling back the layers and you can end up like a troubled artist or lonely intellectual, people who don’t let the secure barriers of time tested culture wrap a warm blanket of comfort and drunkenness around fear. Everyone eventually faces up to the truth of life and pays its dues. It’s in the mechanisms of culture and society where we can overlook the main problem of life: our eventual death.
Thinking about how I will feel when my parents pass away scares me I have no idea what it will do to me.
So what am I going to do now that I had enough of a taste of disillusionment? I’ll let that happen as soon or as late as it takes but I’m done pushing it, its taken about six years to get to this point. It had its run, but I’m done with that, something I needed to do, but since I want a happy life, I’m moving on. As Josh would say, I stopped believing in Rock ‘n Roll. What is valuable and makes me happy is my loved ones, making a positive difference in the world and being ok with the course life takes. Regardless if it makes me soft or not, I’ll continue to enjoy simple prayers and see where that leads me. I am mindful of what Carl Jung said in his theory of neurosis:
The majority of my patients consisted not of believers but of those who had lost their faith (Jung, [1961] 1989:140).
It’s time to find some faith, find some hope and let it happen. Ideologies will always keep evolving but we will always search (and I believe we should) in ways to become immortal. I’ll always be in the process of becoming. I’ll admit it, I want to be a hero is some way. Sounds crazy huh? But don’t we all want that? To live forever or to create something that lives forever that improves life for others. Maybe a book, an idea, a piece of art, unconditional love that spreads long after one fades?
It’s the inescapable human condition. Our bodies are temporal but our conscience is god like and has no limits. We stand in the awe of why life can be so expansive, why morals feel right, why we love staring at the ocean because it seems to go on forever. For me, if I don’t allow my mind to reach out to this unknown life force (maybe even call it God) I will be unhappy. I don’t want to predict the next couple months, just let them happen.
What am I going to do with all this energy I used to invest into finding truth? I’ll move it into the next logical and useful thing in my life, focusing that energy into learning how to give my life. It’s foolish to think I can stop my drive, it’s how I’m built, I can just choose to pick what I do with all that fuel.
I’m not trying to invent the wheel, I’m taking notes from mentors I have, trying to emulate tried and tested ways of successful family men I want to become. I’ll still fight for the proper treatment of all, but I won’t think I have anymore right to saying I got all the answers to people with different ideologies. We all use some form of belief to be happy, and I’m finally cool with that.
life 2.0
My new launching pad.
Oh England… at the conclusion of my one way ticket, I finally get my turn to learn from you for I hope at least the next few years. And teach me you will… you have given me a proper first week. Right from the start I have been welcomed. The first week is coming to a close and I can say I have been wined, dined and made cheery.
I came in with 20kg of stuff in one suitcase and 5kg in a gym bag. It felt like I was naked. Yet this is it. This is where I make my new home, and regardless of poor economy or not, I shall thrive. When I step back I realize this is the step I’ve always needed to make, to have my second birth. I take all my experiences and sit myself down, determined to keep growing into the man I am to be.
The month of January was by far the hardest emotional month of my life, yet the most important (to be written months from now, I am not ready to type this as of yet). It’s when I followed through and finally shed my character armor. I can now treat others and myself with real, gritty, authentic love. Following my own philosophy instead of a set path is proving to be the hardest, yet best course I have taken in life.
This is the place to learn; I feel London is one of the most life-affirming locations in the world. A city where many men have been broken and many healed. It’s a place to work harder than I have ever worked before and enjoy life in the same measure.
I am blessed with parents that have learned to accept that I march to my own beat. I have a few solid gold friends that will never ditch me and that is priceless. I have the growing love of a girl, which I feel is completely sacred and invaluably healthy to my soul. And I have a healthy life full of wonder, what more can I desire? The details will fill in with time… but real, honest, shameless life – a marvel to me.
I did it.
I took a BIG step in becoming a man. This supremely difficult step brought out frustrating emotions in my mother and myself. Scared and worried, I was able to look at her, knowing she wouldn’t accept what I had to say – and being her son who cares, I cannot stand lying to her – I finally collected enough audacity and told her, “I’m stepping away from the church.”
Three years ago I would have done everything to stop myself, yet now I feel this is the most important decision I have made in my life. This is no form of rebellion, I love the ideals the church stands for, most of my friends are believers and I would gladly stay in the church if I could make it sit right in my head. I plan on keeping most of the standards Christians stand for and staying friends with the church; focusing on the praise it deserves. I like to build, not tear down; sure there are things I disagree with, but overall I believe the church has a positive influence in it’s followers lives and in the community.
Jealousy and desire are what I feel when I meet believers who are convinced that God exists. Oh how I would LOVE to have that feeling inside of me, yet I cannot. Year after year I thought I would get that answer, God would let me know “I am.” I’ve laid awake shouting in my mind for him to answer me. DAMN IT, I need to know!
Nothing.
Spending two years serving a mission for my church trying to convince myself I knew. I would take normal experiences and put them in a light that backed up the existence of God. I lied to myself, I even twisted my thoughts when putting them in my journal. I thought that when my kids read my journal entries that they would need to believe I was better than I was… I couldn’t even be honest with my thoughts in my own damn journal. I wanted it so bad.
It feels as though the church is vanilla ice cream. It’s good, it fits many people… yet I have a problem with lactose. It’s just not for me, it doesn’t make it bad, it just means I need to find something good that sits right with me. Truthfully to me being in a state of “I don’t know” about God fits. For me, DOUBT is opening oneself to humility. I don’t like certainty when talking about God. Certainty and “knowledge” about God feels forced and close-minded. Sorry if this offends, but I deeply believe that anyone who says they KNOW (no matter how much of a confident air they put on) … really doesn’t, no matter how long he or she has taken to convince themselves.
How long is one willing to push against a wall if it doesn’t budge? If most of my friends and family wanted me to keep pushing to get an answer about God, when would I chose to focus my efforts on something other than the futile, at the risk of letting others down? I guess I am finding out.
At 25, I realize that life is too short to not have heart. It’s the heart that matters and the last six or so years of my life have not had my whole heart. Living a lie, I was trying to be someone I’m not. What’s funny is that I didn’t fully admit to myself that I was living a lie until over a year ago. I guess growing up means you have to take a real hard look at yourself. Finding yourself is torture, ripping yourself away from social expectations to see yourself as you are. It may sound melodramatic, but that is the best word that comes to mind – torture.
A lesson thats come hard is that to truly stand as a man, one needs to know when to say no. No to things that at the moment may be alright but will cause serious damage in the future. Saying no to your surrounding opinions when everything tells you yes except your gut. It’s recognizing that to be successful at life you cannot always please or be everything to everyone.
Saying no allows me to say yes to the things that really matter, yes to the life that I’m meant to live. It’s the growing pains inside that keep me up at night; it’s knowing that I have to act and overcome the suppression of beating heart. NO! I say. I cannot.. I can.. I must.
It’s painful to make a choice that will cause you to lose most of the social support you rely on. It’s hard to accept that this choice to live without the direction a church, it puts my life in my own hands. It’s mind boggling to accept that not everything in life is fair, that there may not be any afterlife to rectify all the misdeeds done. It sucks to know that when I lose loved ones there is a possibility I will never see them again. Coming to grips with impermanence is the hardest part.
Is it worth looking at all these dark existential ideas? I sometimes struggle to believe myself, but YES. Never before have I felt so alive. Being aware of death (not obsessing about it) makes life so much more exciting. I feel my maturing blood racing in my veins, I enjoying loving others, fully aware that I might lose them. I am alive.
I am better to those around me, I think my goals are smarter and my mind is opening up piece by piece. At this very moment I am living with heart. I am standing strong.
If I could put my soul into a picture, it is that of a growing evergreen tree, one that doesn’t change just to match the seasons. Wind is blowing dirt all around me but I am aware of my roots; it’s raining but I’m not moving. I know that eventually something will bring me crashing down but I’ll last as long as I can. I’m becoming one with my purpose and believe that my life is of some benefit to others. When people look at me they may see a struggling tree that is soaked and weathered by the surrounding, but perhaps after getting to know me, they see a tree with character. Roots that are firm in honesty and heart.
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Some Thoughts on taking this road less travelled:
My Philosophy Professor Brian Merrill. By far my favorite/smartest/engaging teacher I have ever had. He has a PhD in Philosophy and has studied at the University of Texas, Oxford University and BYU; he had the knowledge to actually make me think and pour over the ideas of geniuses like Kierkegaard, Hume and Plato. I swear I heard heads ‘POP’ in that class, as minds were actually stretching and considering foreign points of view. It was great to actually take the time to defend personal opinions on topics such as stem cell research, human evolution and the definition of evil.
Being a huge fan of the Ophelia Syndrome, I met with my professor to ask him to advise me on my faith dilemma. I trusted him because he told us at the start of class that he’s seen some Mormons leave the church after studying the history of the bible, but that in his experience, philosophy students where the most likely to fall away. I figure he had enough experience to help me either return to my faith as a true Christian or become a quality member of society – unaffiliated with any religion.
He said that he understands epistemology yet can say he knows that God exists. ”How do we know what we know?” Epistemology asks. To me it seemed as though his understanding of epistemology required him to practice doublethink. I asked him that even though he is committed to the church, doesn’t he think that perhaps his convictions are subconscious? Perhaps his need to know made him know.. perhaps life is easier for him if he believes he knows? He told me that the holy spirit gave him an answer that makes him even more convinced that God exists then his conviction that we were sitting in his office. He really seemed to express genuine certitude. Perhaps he really does know and if his convictions are spot on, hopefully he lets the big man upstairs know I was sincere and mislead in trying to find out if He existed.
Asking him what I should do if I have not received an answer by now, should I keep trying or is it more moral to follow your heart at the expense of abandoning your cultural beliefs, he answered me. He said he had to think and the office grew silent for about a minute, allowing me to observe his fingertips perched tips together like a tent on his desk, his eyes moving across the expanse of his desk, eyebrows tensing and relaxing and deliberate blinking of the eyes. He looked up and said he would answer me in two ways. FIrst he said he would answer me as a bishop and then as a philosopher.
The bishop answer was what one would expect. He told me that he doesn’t know how God functions but that it is necessary to keep striving for an answer and eventually God will answer. Guess maybe it’s the leap of faith. He continued that the knowledge you receive changes everything and makes you happy, putting true purpose into life. He told me many times that “it is worth it” to take the time to find out.
I told him that I had tried many times to get the answers, doing everything the church asks for, (no drugs, no alcohol, no sex, attending my church, going to the temple, reading the scriptures, praying night and day, wearing my garments *holy underwear*, paying ten percent of my earnings as a tithe, and really desiring to know the Lord). So I guess you can guess that some of those demands of the church gave me more trouble then others, but all in all I kept them all. Yet no answer.
This is the brilliant question Merrill asked me: “Do you really want to know?” I did. Now I don’t. This question caught me off guard, I was fooling myself thinking I could somehow come back into the fold without the desire. There is another thing I don’t know, how would my faith be if I really wanted to know, because for a while I’ve given up on knowing, content on living. I may never understand what he means by spirit because I’m caught up trying to explain it.
He explained to me that Mother Teresa only received one answer to her prayers, just one insiration to start on her life’s journey, but then doubted the existence of God to her death. Letters uncovered after her death showed conversation between her and her friends and superiors. Her dying wish was for these letters to be destroyed but the church kept them in their decision making process to elevate her to sainthood.
Here’s an excerpt from CBS:“Where is my faith?” she wrote. “Even deep down… there is nothing but emptiness and darkness… If there be God — please forgive me.”
“Such deep longing for God… Repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal,” she said. As her fame increased, her faith refused to return. Her smile, she said, was a mask. “What do I labor for?” she asked in one letter. “If there be no God, there can be no soul. If there be no soul then, Jesus, You also are not true.”
In the TIME article: “Jesus has a very special love for you. As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear. — the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak … I want you to pray for me — that I let Him have [a] free hand.” Mother Teresa to the Rev. Michael Van Der Peet, September 1979
Mother Teresa professed that she had unquestioned faith to the public, yet behind the scenes she was experiencing mental anguish. Doesn’t everyone, If they are truly honest with themselves?
Back to the other way he answered me. Merrill said that as a philosopher, sometimes people truly pick their path once they come to a crisis. He said that it seems as though I am at that fork in the road because I want to prepare to be a husband and father and that requires that I make some choices now. Not acting at this point was acting; anyway I handled the situation would affect me in a large scale. It would affect who I marry, it would affect my goals in life and it would affect my social surroundings.
He then told me that he feels that either way I will do well, which was surprising because I thought as a bishop he’s supposed to tell you that falling away is the biggest crime. He didn’t say that when answering as a philosopher and we spoke about the meaning God gives us and other things that can take the place of god.
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If I were to side with the idea of God, I’d lean towards sceptical deism. I have a similar hope, although no where near as much conviction, as that of one of my favorite genius leaders, Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson was similar to other founding fathers like Benjamin Franklin in his embrace of deism. They did not believe that Jesus was a son of God but did appreciate and learn from the morals Christ stood for.
Jefferson wrote a new bible mixing the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John into a chronological story that was void of any miracles, angels, prophecy, resurrection, and genealogy, ending in “Now, in the place where he was crucified, there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.” This ended his bible, a story that chose to focus on the wise teachings of Jesus without trying to make Jesus into a God or something supernatural.
I myself love the teachings of Christ and feel that the supposed miracles were added to make the story fit with the superstitions of the day; including the virgin birth that had been used centuries before to signify a God.
I guess out of fear of being hated by orthodox Christians, Jefferson made sure that his bible was published after his death; however, he did share it with close friends during his life. Because of his leading contribution to the Declaration of Independence, church was separated from state, unlike England or Virginia’s unjust inclusion at that time:
“If a person brought up a Christian denies the being of a God, or the Trinity …he is punishable on the first offense by incapacity to hold any office …; on the second by a disability to sue, to take any gift or legacy …, and by three year’ imprisonment.” – Jefferson thankfully changes this scary law, Notes on the State of Virginia
Jefferson doesn’t refer to the Christian God, he uses a deist term “Nature’s God” in the declaration. He felt that it was up to each man to believe in whatever belief. He was famous for saying “the legitimate powers of government extend to such acts only as are injurious to others. But it does me no injury for my neighbour to say there are twenty gods, or no god. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.”
If God is not a actual person but rather natural collective intelligence, I side with Jefferson, it makes sense in my head.
Even George Washington and John Adams were anti-clerical in their teachings of organized religion. Washington went with his wife, a devout Episcopalian, to church but always turned and left when the communion was to take place. The preacher spoke with Washington about the influence his turning his back on the Lords supper would have on those present. Washington agreed and commended the preacher for his integrity and candor. After that talk, Washington never again came to Sacrament Sunday’s.
It wasn’t that Washington hated the church, rather it was that he didn’t believe in the same way and didn’t want to affect others around him in a negative manner. I understand how he felt even though I don’t have the influence he had. Still I feel weird sitting in church not taking the sacrament, if it’s not for me, why did I pretend for so long?
I got it good
Sometimes I sit back and realize, man I got life good, I have no right to be passive.
Three people have lately reminded me of what matters:
1. This summer I lost a bro. In my mid to late teens, I spent a lot of time with a kid named Reymond; he was a Philippino guy my age who I got to know through the church I went to.
We both had a passion for hip-hop and would spend lots of time mixing tapes for each other (Blackstreet, DMX and Jay-Z stuff) and chill on the weekends, mostly talking about girls. We’d play b-ball on my driveway (my dad would yell at us to turn down rap blasting from the boom-box beside the hoop) and were on a v-ball team on the weekends, we where tight. We’d hang out at this place called the Hippo Club, down by the Quay and spend quarter after quarter playing pool and 16bit video games. During a church organized camping trip, I saw him slice his hand open and get the nickname “razor” ramon.
When we were 17, we road-tripped down to Utah with our bishop. Most of the nights, before falling asleep, were spent talking about our fears, dreams and what we would be in the future; both of us in our sleeping bags sharing a guest bed. We woke up with our headphones on, cause we both enjoyed falling asleep to music.
We’d go to countless dances only for him to hear me bitch about how there were no girls I wanted to get with, when in fact I just didn’t have the balls to talk to them. He never called me out on that, he let me run my mouth to feel better about myself. He was a true friend who knew how to just listen.
I regret losing touch with him after that, he moved to Alberta and this was before myspace or facebook, while I was busy getting ready to head out to the Czech Republic. Rey gave me confidence when I was in my teens cause he was cool. And me… well I was more of a poser, but hey I made sick mix-tapes right?!
I found out this summer that Rey committed suicide, leaving behind him a wife and a kid.
He would have been 24 or 25 in a completely different life than I. Maybe he didn’t have a friend like he was to me to talk about his problems. Maybe he just needed someone to listen.
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2. Last month I assisted with a National Kidney Foundation informative video; I helped film a guy (Dale Murdock) who has the longest living kidney transplant, out in Mudd Lake, Idaho. I learned about more than just kidney’s.
In 1964, at age 14, Dale’s kidney’s failed and he went in for an experiment transplant at the University of Colorado. Kidney transplants were still a new thing and many didn’t survive the operation. On his hospital wing there were ten beds. Out of the ten beds, he was the only one who made it out.
Dale weighed 98 pounds when he came in, after all the medication he had to take to assist his nine months in the bed, he gained 200 pounds.
“I wasn’t expecting anything, I had been given up for dead,” said Dale.
Now 44 years later, his kidney is starting to give out. Is this a man who complains about where he’s at? (at the end of the shoot he got into his tractor to prep the straw on his farm for bails) No, Dale talks about his 7 kids and his love of an active life, including rock climbing. During the shoot a woman accompanied him who seemed to be his partner, yet when I asked her if they were together she told me with a slight laugh, “Ask him, I’ve been seeing him for 10 years yet he sees many other women so I don’t know.” This guy may not be perfect but he’s out there making it happen.
He said “I see so many people(kidney donor recipients) who live the transplant life… its all about the meds and the fears, not about living.” You can’t help what has happened to you but you can focus on living life with what you got. Dale only looks back to “recognize the donors, the ones that are willing to share a part their life with another, sometimes even a stranger.”
Dale feels it is important to not worry about “what ifs” if you are in a constant state of worry life will pass you by. I dig.
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3. This is something I found out about two weeks ago.
This is about one of my favorite coworkers, Angela, that I met while interning in NYC earlier this year. She was one of the first smiling faces to greet me as I started my first day and she took me out for my first lunch in the city. She was stoked about my snowboarding and skateboarding hobbies and made me feel so welcome to the new environment. When we saw each other in the hallways we would usually break it down and do a bunch of hip hop dance moves ending in laughter. Besides being a awesome professional, she made people bond together; I wasn’t on her team or side of the floor but would regularly go out of my way to see her to joke around or just say hi.
She was the one in the office always rounding up everyone to do events after work was done and she wasn’t even HR. Angela is nice to everyone without expecting anything back, she is completely genuine.
When I left NYC I promised to stay in touch with her. A couple months later, on their way home from a Yankees game “a car coming the other direction cut off a US Postal Service truck. The truck went over the concrete divide and hit Rich (Angela’s husband) and Angela head on. Rich died on the scene and Angela was rushed by helicopter to the trauma center.” According to caringbridge.org
But looking at her journal entries, Angela is back and cheerful, look at this weeks entry: ”Greetings from North Carolina’s voting station where I was able to register and cast my vote after a short wait in line. This felt very important for me to do and I was elated to accomplish this.”
Although I’m sure there is a lot of work for her to be physically well, I bet that Angela will take it on without much complaint while continually making people around her feel great. I absolutely look up to that.
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All three examples are very different case but all three individuals taught me something. Listen to your friends, look forward and be genuine.
two dollars and fifty cents changes it all
$2.50 my brother… $2.50 my sister… $2.50 my friend.
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Two numbers: $2.50 and 3 billion
- Roughly ½ of our population, that’s over 3 billion people, lives on less than $2.50 a day.
Could you? I couldn’t.
$2.50 and over 3 billion.
And I find myself bitching that I don’t have enough to buy a new pair of $50US kicks. Aren’t I pathetic sometimes?
Want two more tasty facts?
- At least 80 percent of the world population lives on less than $10 a day.
- According to UNICEF, “26,500-30,000 children die each day due to poverty (that’s children age five and under). They ‘die quietly in some of the poorest villages on earth, far removed from the scrutiny and the conscience of the world. Being meek and weak in life makes these dying multitudes even more invisible in death.’”
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This isn’t an entry about changing the world. This is an entry about $2.50, an entry about changing myself, first.
Due to situations present before my birth, I was born into a great situation. I was allowed a pursuit of happiness but I didn’t deserve it anymore than any of those 26,500 or so children. Two-and-a-half dollars has fueled my sense of responsibility, a drive and the realization that life is nowhere as easy for others as it is for me. If I don’t do something to help the cause I am a waste of all that money and situation.
Two dollars and fifty cents makes me realize that the happy notion of an all knowing God that put us here on earth to test us is not so simple. I think it’s a simplified story that we, the ones not living in poverty, use to ease our minds, hoping there is a fair Almighty up there that cares about us and will make everything all ok in the afterlife. My naivety asks, if life is a test to separate the good from the bad, how is it ever going to test a child that is born into hunger and doesn’t have the luxury of going to school or feeling the solution to hunger?
If there is a God, I doubt it’s an old white dude overseeing us all, even though I’ve spent most of my life believing in one. No, if there is God, it’s not the one I used to believe in, it’s not one that is all-powerful, yet jealous that picks tiny minorities to inherit the world and heaven. The fact is that I’m in HEAVEN right now… and those kids… they’re in HELL right now.
I’ve personally used the idea of a God (Yahweh, whatever you or your religion wants call it) to be lazy in my thoughts, thinking I’m in some sort of a plan to go to heaven, forgetting that heaven is right now; kidding myself that those kids living in hellish poverty will go straight to heaven after they die. That way I’ve protected my fragile conscience.
Breaking from the simplified story version idea of a God makes me more hopeful that we as a human race can change this direction and eventually minimize things such as poverty. It makes me more powerful, no longer is it a spiritual test, it’s about recognizing that God, maybe call it infinite human potential, is in you, me and that kid who’s trying to survive on less than $2.50. That puts some real responsibility on us, doesn’t it? For all our brothers and sisters. If we’re healthy, able to work, not hungry… we are the lucky ones.
What is the new hope for humanity for me? I believe in free thought and technology. We can learn to think, to work and treat others around us better and create better answers to hunger problems. What do I currently think will solve some of the real problems in this world? Not intolerant religions, not world government, nor additional wars; what will save us includes charity, world population control and technology.
Does this new paradigm make me happier? No, it clears my fantasyland, I feel closer to life and it makes me more action oriented. I realize that there is no comfortable thought like universal justice; it’s a dream that I must work towards to improve, in my little way.
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3 things for me to understand:
Tolerance / charity to all: We all have a right to believe what we want. But we have no right to act on that belief if it hurts others. For future religions to be utilitarian, they need to accept that there are many ways to God (self understanding and knowledge), not just one dogmatic way. Close mindedness only benefits members of a club, not the human population. Lets learn charity and accept each other.
World population control: Almost all our climate change concerns, economic hardships and poverty have to do with too many mouths to feed. Many in America think cleaner cars are the answer to our pollution problems, yet cars only make up a small portion of our problems. More mouths to feed means clearing of forests to grow more food, more paved ground and more energy and utilities used. There are only so many people earth can support. It’s also no secret that the uneducated and poor have more children per capita.
Example: Han Chinese, the largest ethnic group in the world, comprises of 92% of China’s population. Han understand population control and were able to lower poverty from 85% to 16% in the last couple of decades. Dislike China or not, Han Chinese figured out that only having one child equals to fewer hungry mouths, allowing everyone to do better.
Technology: In our lives the major advancements in society aren’t because of better religion or government. Its not prayers on their own that are improving health or curing diseases, its the human spirit acting to help others through technology. It’s science that allows us to fix problems in our bodies and allows us to live longer and with less pain. It’s technology that can allow the same plot of land to give us 400% more production than 20 years ago. It’s technology that can free us.
XX EDIT: Talking with my friend Maggie about this she suggested adding EDUCATION to the list. Absolutely, teach people how to help themselves, and gain knowledge to use technology to save lives.XX
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I can dream and spread hope because I’ve been blessed with the luxury of situation. The time to think, responsibility to act, and realization that most of my petty problems pale when put next to $2.50.
Changing my mind.
I apologize that this turned out to be one juggernaut of a 1,700 word entry.
Yesterday I tossed around in my mind a comment a friend posted online. The comment went as such: “Marriage is only for a man and a woman.” Simple enough right? Just two years ago I would have muttered “uh-huh” while my head nodded in agreement; now something is different.
I figure the long bridge between my mind and my mouth should be drenched in yellow paint. There’s these warnings on the paint claiming “Project incomplete and in process, not a good idea to cross.” But I don’t care and I let my undeveloped ideas march across that bridge. I catch myself saying things that I used to believe yet now I completely disagree with. Does this ever happen to you? You are in deep explaining yourself to a friend or convincing yourself and you realize you don’t even agree with the idea you are pushing.
That’s where I start to laugh at myself and swing open the gates to change… oh bright sunny clarity of self-improvement. Here’s what I mean, two examples as exhibits in my mind.
EXHIBIT 1:
I’m no longer as racist as I used to be. I’m also damn proud of that; I worked hard to change.
While I was a child, my father explained to me that people of different color were not to be trusted, and blacks, those degenerates are all criminals. All of them.
Even though I respected my father and wanted his approval, this made me my reason sick even as a young pup. It didn’t seem right inside of me. Yet as time moved on I adapted many of his thoughts; was I slowly changing into him?
An example of one silly racist moment: I was in a airport line impatiently arguing with a the check-in lady who happened to be black and I missed my flight leaving me with 24 hours to stew over my anger before the next flight flew in. I thought that I would be on a plane if I had spoken with a white lady instead. In retrospect, I was a fool.
I had a roommate named Adam that helped paint a new view in my mind. It was time to improve, I needed to get over this prejudice and told him some of the nonsense I have just told you. Adam had spent some years running summer camps that mixed all sorts of children with inner-city kids. He told me of one exercise he ran with a class of kids in a gymnasium. He had all the kids stand on a line in the center facing him. And then came the questions:
- “If you grew up with both a mom and a dad take a step forward.”
- “If your family ever had to rely on welfare, take a step back”
- “If your family owns a home and doesn’t have to rent take a step forward.”
- “If you’ve never met your father take a step back”
- “If you regularly have three meals a day take a step forward.”
- “If any members of your family have been or are currently in jail, take a step back”
- “If your parents attended college or any higher education take a step forward”
- “If your parent(s) never graduated from high school, take a step back”
…Questions of a similar nature continued for a few more telling steps.
If you are picturing this in your mind and you see a majority of white children in the front and a majority of poorer black children in the back you would be spot on. Not much of a surprise, children usually become a product of their environment. If we were born in a poor, violent, anti-intellectual environment, void of a good father figure or a host of other unconstructive environments, what do you think would happen to us?
No longer do I look down on others because they have a different look or use an unfamiliar vernacular. I realize I would act and be similar to them if I was born into their situation.
This doesn’t mean I applaud the black guy on the corner, selling weed to the neighborhood kids; I just realize I might very well be doing a similar thing if I was born into his shoes. Just because it seems horribly wrong to me in my paradigm and even though I would never live the life of a hood doesn’t mean it’s out there to think that I could be that very guy if I grew up tough and unloved.
There isn’t an easy answer; I now go out of my way to get to know people not like me to understand where they come from and battle my leftover racist views. I still have stereotypes in my mind but I’m learning to realize that we’re all the same species; I think that what forms us to the biggest extent are our surroundings.
EXHIBIT 2:
Yikes, this one is fresher than that yellow paint, and I’m still tracking prints all over trying to decide quite how I feel about it. It addresses the comment my friend said about anti-marriage for gays.
Being in a religion that preaches that homosexuality is a problem that can be overcome, I feel at odds with this idea and what my peers in my church would say. Nevertheless, if I go with the herd I’ll have that same sick reason in my head. I struggle to believe my opinion because one of my personal hero’s, and former leader of my church said:
“We love these people (gays) and try to work with them and help them. We know they have a problem. We want to help them solve that problem. ” - Gordon B. Hickley
How can I go against someone far smarter than myself who taught me so much on how to stand tall and raise a banner for virtue and moral life? I guess because I’m following his advice on staying true to myself. I don’t believe gays have a problem, I think only a minority has this same sex orientation but because it is foreign to the majority of us we reject them. I think the problem is how we view people who aren’t like us, morally I think we need to allow them to live life as a first rate citizen.
I used to be anti-gay and very much anti-gay-marriage. Two years ago I would have damned California and parts of Canada for allowing legal union for gays.
Well here is why I have switched sides of the debate. I imagine someone telling me that I have to stop acting on my impulse to date, build relationships and enjoy intimate moments with women. They tell me, “hey it’s a lifestyle that is not ordained by the law of nature or by God.” But inside of me I can in no way switch my attraction to men nor do I want to live a life without love and sex with someone I love.
Not only do they tell me I’m a sinner and doomed to hell, they insult my intellect by telling me that it was a voluntary choice to love women and that I can change my lifestyle to love guys. Now in my head the thought of seeing a man’s bits makes me gag, heck looking at my own unsymmetrical set-up isn’t my idea of and ideal Friday night. But show me an attractive scantly clad woman and we all know by the smile on my face I’m sold.
My desire to have a special woman as my partner shapes my life and I know how happy I have been in previous relationships so eventually I want to marry a female partner for life.
Sure… you know where this is headed. What if a guy or gal has that same desire like me except it’s for a member of the same sex? Its not a rebellious phase or fun lifestyle idea. No it’s genuine desire to be with one of the same sex and to lead a fulfilling life.
Or perhaps it’s an adult who was born with both genitals and the parents had to choose at a young age weather to snip or to sew? Now this full-grown woman feels like a man inside and wants to rendezvous with other women? Do we tell them that they cannot because they have the same equipment? NO to love and happiness for you!
So you live in America and are allowed a pursuit of happiness unless you are a homosexual? Yikes.
Now I in no way condone the lifestyle some gays lead in having many different sexual partners. This causes many negative things including outbreaks of STDs and just like a heterosexual switching partners every week, it’s plain trashy. Nevertheless, saying no to marriage for gays outlaws a special union between two people who love each other and could take care of each other while staying monogamous.
So yeah I won’t go with what the bible says or doesn’t say on this. To me it is extraneous; what matters is what the morals in my heart are telling me. I’m libertarian and feel that everyone should do as they please as long as it doesn’t affect others to the negative. I want to make this part clear, as of yet I DO NOT have any opinion on whether married homosexual couples should be allowed to raise children as this brings a third party into the picture.
Honestly I hope I don’t approach other topics like a girl I dated for a couple weeks last year. She told me that gays disgusted her and bragged to me how her dad would tell her stories about how he beat up gays in high school. Clap clap… it turned my stomach to hear her go on about how they are disgusting people; there weren’t too many dates after that.
I plan to keep my mind as open as possible before I become old and hard, it will inevitably happen. The generation following us will shake their heads at how we view some things just like we sometimes shake our heads at our elders.
A Harlem caress
Yesterday I saw a friend with whom I’d become acquainted with earlier this year when I had moved to NYC to intern on Madison Avenue with a PR agency. For your and my pleasure I decided to make a check list of all the crazy things that happened during my stay.
Preface: Moving from the 73rd street of the Upper East Side to 111th (by Malcolm X Blvd) Lower Harlem was solely a move to trade paying $1000 a month for my own room to $450 for a shared room in Harlem. But Harlem changed me like a much needed lover…
Before diving into Harlem, a mention of the Upper East Side:
I lived with Shahar, an Israeli who worked for a moving truck company with decent english in his late 20s. One downside was that I listened to him for a week straight ravish the shores of his very vocal girlfriend while I tried to get beauty rest on the other side of a thin wall. My jewish roommate daily smoked the dankest weed I’ve ever smelled, yuck; but good chap on all other accounts. Really.
The fourth floor upper east apt had a picture of two women kissing that took up most of the wall in the living room, the whole apartment was the size of a beefy shoe-box. Shahar was able to hook me up after my two month stay with a box-spring bed. Maybe it had its share of plate-sized stains, but who am I to be picky. Thank-you Shahar.
March and April belonged to Harlem, and I LOVED em.
I had two roommates in Harlem, Adam a 140 pound calm intelligent Christian in my room and Dean, or Dean-o as his friends called him, a big red headed fun-loving Aussie studying film.
Harlem was the cultural experience I’ve always wanted. I’d hang out on 125th and I felt like it was 1990. Clothes was baggy and there was tons of bling. I could never figure out how most everyone in Harlem could afford the hottest sneaks, newest bluetooth earpiece, shiny 22s and still collect hand outs from the government.
While shopping for protein shakes in a Harlem GNC, I had a black girl sales girl ask me if I enjoyed vanilla flavor or chocolate. I said “I dunno which one tastes better?” She said “You should try chocolate, its a whole new experience and you’ll be hooked. You really should try some chocolate buttaah.” I realized she was not talking about protein shakes and we had a playfully sexual conversation. This would not happen anywhere else I’m convinced.
If I ever move back to NYC, Harlem please reserve me a spot.
Here she goes, my top memories and lessons learned while my stay:
- knowing how to hail a cab
- not smiling, regularly frowning when walking around and being proud of it. (sheesh, only tourists smile in NYC)
- Slighlty exagerating my swagger in a feable attempt to look tougher during the late hours in Harlem
- Almost daily stopping by the Fried Chicken corner store down my street to pick up cheeseburgers or fried chicken and mash.
- Passing by the 40 and 50 year old homies on the corner playing rap by attaching a CD player to a larger speaker which was attached to a car battery; everything housed on a portable cart.
- One of the those homies offered me weed and told me not to go to the other corner cause he’s got the best green.
- Getting out of the 2 train at Central Park North (my stop) and being the only white guy in sight.
- Longboarding with Dean-o on a warm spring night through Central Park, talking about women.
- Skateboarding under the brooklyn bridge on those red bricks, a famous skate spot for the last 30 years.
- Being part of the largest pillow-fight on a sunny saturday afternoon in Union Square I have ever been in. Thousands of strangers with pillows, mayhem.
- Going to Harlem lanes with my friends and having our waists and ankles searched for weapons. To go bowling? Seriously.
- Seeing bottles of Hennessy chilling in ice buckets right there on the bowling lanes and big black ladies smiling, grinding up on their men while hip hop and disco spills over the happy crowd.
- Realizing how lucky I am to have such a top notch agency to work with in with a 12th floor cube that looks out onto Madison Sqaure Park.
- Leaving work after a typical 11 hour shift, headphone playing in one ear, cell on other ear, darting through traffic with my blue adidas gym bag on my way to a $120 a month gym and thinking I’m sane.
- Getting offered cocaine right in Times Square.
- Feeling the ground move during a Angels and Airwaves concert in the Roseland Ballroom.
- Getting in for free to see The Presidents of the USA and singing “Millions of peaches” with a very drunk crowd.
- Spring in NYC, everything in bloom including ladies in short skirts, magic.
- Scaring the crap out of Chris Brown during Toy Fair. I was dressed in a Clone Trooper outfit outside of the Star Wars room (the costume guy was hung-over and didn’t come in so as a good intern I offered to take his spot) and Chris thought I was fake because I stayed still. He leans in and I move. He jumps back and yells “OH Shit!” and everyone laughs.
- Going to a Poetry Slam in the East Village expecting to hear poetry and instead hearing about 100 ways to say punany by a lady who created a new religion all for women. She encouraged the ladies to pleasure themselves everyday for a month and passed out little bottles of “sacred
lubeoil” at the end of her 30 minute religious speal. - Getting audibly angry by the quality of comedians at various comedy clubs
- Almost getting in a fight in the subway with a guy bigger than me because I was too high on caffine after a work out to think straight. I looked him in the eye cocked my head narrowed my eyes and said “whatssup” in the cockiest tone; sometimes I am so stupid.
- Stuttering while helping Miss Switzerland pick a city to vote for during our World Monopoly Vote media event. She was too fine… sweaty palms.
- One favorite deli that always played 70’s disco, I’d sit, eat my cheeseburger and pickles and soak in the sounds.
- On dateless fridays nights I would cozy up in a four story mid-town Barnes & Noble usually in the biography section and lose track of time.
- Walking to the subway and watching a crazy women run by bleeding out the eye yelling at some guy and not thinking anything was out of the ordinary.
- Watching movies into the early hours with a friend on the worst TV I’ve ever used.
- Surviving the worst week of my life and laughing at it when it was done.
- Pursuing a girl who was way out my my league and thinking that she would be lucky to be with me.
And lastly picture this:
- Shopping on 116th and the grocery store was playing RnB, disco and Hip Hop and everyone in the store is singing along and some people are dancing along. At first this threw me off but after a while I realized this is their culture and I loved it. Hopefully they didn’t see me, white boy in the vegetable isle, trying to dance along as well.
Mes amis
“I’m not what I think I am; I’m not what you think of me; I’m what I think you think of me.”
Today I was discussing this idea with one of my co-workers who’s finishing up a degree in psychology. It made me think of the dynamics between my circle of friends and how we make each other feel. I need people around me that make me grow, that allow me the privilege to do the same for them.
Five things I expect of myself and my friends.
1. Trust. NO flakes. Flake on me and you get cut. This goes both ways, I’ll respect my friends and know that they expect me to always stay behind my word. If I can’t go through with what I say I’ll do I let them know pronto. Trust is everything for me, I don’t waste time building relationships with people who aren’t grown up enough to stay behind their word.
2. Honesty. Be real with me even sometimes when its not the easiest thing to do. I take my friends opinions seriously, I need other points of view to improve and want candid advice. If acted like an ass, I expect to be told if I didn’t realize it myself.
3. Positivity. We all need compliments. NOT flattery; we all need to hear what is honestly good about us, what makes us look good, what makes us special and where our talents lie so that we have the confidence to become great.
4. Confidence to laugh at oneself. Being too serious or trying too hard is about as attractive as a mysterious stain that shows up at a black light dance party. We’re all fuck-ups in one way or another, scared that some stranger will see right through us. Shoot, they’ll make us realize we’re really not as special as we trick ourselves into thinking; they’ll figure us out and we’ll deflate. So lets raise our glasses and laugh about ourselves and break down those walls. Thats how real people bond. To steal a line from Almost Famous..
“the only real currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we’re uncool.”
5. Lastly, DON’T spread yourself thin. If you want to get to know someone spend time on them instead of trying to impress everyone else. I won’t even comment on what I think of coming over to visit someone and they spend their time clacking away on their cell phone or laptop right in front of me. They try to build a digital relationship instead of enjoying tête-à-tête with a beating heart right in front of them.
Last thoughts on friendship
- rantwarning – I’m scared that the new generation of kids will rather text others when in company of their friends, using tech that allows them to wait between responses instead of growing face to face wit and real communication. Awkward silence? Bust out your cell and look busy (Instead of learning to be OK with silent moments in conversation and getting the ball passing). I’ve noticed that with some I have more open conversations over text and internet then while being with them. Why is this? I don’t like this trend. Alas, I digress.
I have just under 400 friends on my facebook, yet do I really care about all these people? Robin Dunbar’s Theory of 150 explains this:
When anyone tries to keep an relationship of any sorts with more than around 150 people the relationships become thin and fake that they are near pointless. There just isn’t enough time to spread amidst this many people. This is the reason why many tribes and companies split when they hit 150. To stay under the number means that there are real relationships and peer pressure keeps everyone working the hardest and caring about each other.
Out of those hundreds of contacts on facebook how many of the people do I really keep in touch with? About 25 I would guess. So after I graduate college this year most of my contacts will be erased, most of those girls. Down the line when I’m a married man almost all my female contacts will be removed. Why keep contact with girls I used to flirt with? To make my wife jealous or to send the wrong message to others? Forget that, like old photos with past flames, they’re gone.
I’m blessed to have under a dozen solid friends that keep me moving forward and allow me to develop into the type of person that has enough valuable skills to give to others. Some friends have come for a season, some for a year and a few special ones for a lifetime.
They’re my private gold.
On feeling important
Since everyone is unique and special means we’re pretty much all on the same playing field. Even the big stars of this world ain’t anything more than a speck when you view the world from afar. .
It’s kinda funny how we think that we are so much more important than the rest of the things in this world and pollute away, when in fact we are the greatest weed the world has seen. It’s in how we separate ourselves from nature and see ourselves as separate from it when in fact we are part of it.
I think its all about laughing at yourself and enjoying what you are and those around you and trying to lead a responsible life.
It’s the paradox that once you find out you’re not all that special you can become even happier than before (not that I would teach that idea to a child as they need to believe that they are oh so special).
Or like the man Socrates, the more I know the more I realize that I don’t know anything… I don’t think he saying he literally knows nothing but that he really is just a speck, and that he can gain true satisfaction out of life by trying to be good to his friends and finding his own truth piece by piece.
I mean look at what the church I belong to teaches, we’re to become gods ourselves when we die if we do what we’re taught (all surely sucking honey combs in heaven)… scared of death and being small in this life we need to believe we can become important by creating worlds and such. Now I hope something about the after life is true but I do see why the idea of an after life is so popular in every culture.
I think everyone needs hope, the less fortunate more than we do as we are living the good life. It’s just that I’m fine with giving life all I got morally and proactively living; not worrying about dying and becoming more important than those around me or pretending I have much more of an idea of what life’s all about all the time. Except I’m still trying to find the courage to actually do what I believe…
Well thats me trying to make sense of my thoughts, prolly makes little sense haha.
