Grammar disclaimer: I go back and forth from present tense to past tense even in the same paragraphs. Same with you/me. I feel better with your knowing that I know that.
I listen to a lot of music. In my car I listen to Sirius/XM satellite radio. Besides stations that are dedicated to a particular type of music is that the music is mostly commercial free. There is a trade off from FM radio, however, in that the sound quality of XM is not as rich as FM. It's a trade off that I gladly make. I also listen to Spotify playlists from my phone. The trade off there is that it uses data and the overages are very expensive. I occasionally listen to a CD, but I find that the other two options give me plenty of music to listen to.
The best sound quality that I experience is at home with my Bose headphones. My Bose world is a solitary world of a thousand delights. In that world I listen to Spotify most of the time and also YouTube videos. After using the free service from Spotify for quite awhile, I decided to subscribe so that I could enjoy the music commercial and interruption free. And I certainly get my money's worth.
In case you do not use Spotify, and the thing that makes it superior to Pandora (in my opinion), is the magic search box at the top of the page. The user can type the name of any artist or song and the page immediately populates with that artist's music. You can immediately listen to that one song or an entire symphony. There is no end to Spotify's music. It's offerings seem to be as vast as the stars in the heavens.
One thing I do with Spotify and videos is follow the musical trails that the services prompt me to follow. By doing that, I have found incredible music by artists and bands that I had never heard of.
This happened just yesterday evening. The way this works is that I listen to a YouTube video of the Spotify song I just enjoyed. After that video plays, I just let it keep playing the next song. In many cases YouTube continues to play the music of that artist, but it eventually plays music of other artists. That's when I discover the new music. Such was the case last evening. I forget who I was listening to that led me to the music of Glen Campbell. There I discovered the universe of music by Jimmy Webb which led me to Linda Rondstadt. And there I found the mother lode in the music of Karla Bonoff. If I had ever heard of Bonoff, I don't recall. Turns out that she wrote many of the biggest hits by Glen Campbell, Linda Rondstadt and so many others. Then I found videos of Bonoff singing her own music. Her voice is amazingly like Rondstadt's.
I was enjoying Karla Bonoff's music anyway when I surfed into her "Standing Right Next to Me." Now I have the children in my life to thank for what I did next. If children like a song or a movie, they watch it over and over again. Sometimes they watch the same movie that they just watched. So in a case like this, I have listened to this song probably fifty times since last night. I'm listening to it now. Is it primarily the lyrics or the music that I enjoy the most? With a good song obviously you can't separate the two. The song is about the age old poetic subject of love, but approaches the subject in a remarkable refreshing way. The thing that's "standing right next to me" is not that special person, but its love itself. Then as you think about it, it's the love for and from that special person that you feel. And the music fills me with that love that she's singing about.
The thing about music for me is not just how it sounds, but what it does. I struggle with emotions. Usually I either feel really good or I feel really bad. There is very little in between. I work very hard to feel good. This song helps me to feel the love that she's singing about. I am flooded with the goodness of love, the goodness of life. That's why I listen to it over and over. I find that feeling to be an antidote to my chronic pain and suffering(in the Buddhist sense). For all of my life I have "self-medicated" with music. No destructive addictions or jail time. It's hard for me to believe that prescription pain killers are any more effective than my music method.
I'll leave with my thought for the day. Whatever it is that you need today for love and fulfillment is standing right next to you. Touch it. Embrace it. Enjoy it. Live it. And by all means, subscribe to Spotify.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Sunday, July 30, 2017
Survivor Guilt
Survivor guilt or survivor's guilt, is a mental state that occurs when a person believes they have done something wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not.
In 1981, Robert Redford's film Ordinary People was nominated for six academy awards and won four including best picture. Timothy Hutton, as Conrad Jarrett, in his first role in a major motion picture edged out Judd Hirsch, his counselor, for Best Supporting Actor. In an interview the next day on Good Morning America, when asked how he stayed in character, Hutton said, "It was just me."
Conrad had two significant losses to deal with. The first was his older brother Buck's death in a sailboat accident. And then he found out when he called her in the middle of the night, that his friend Karen, who he had met in the mental hospital after his suicide attempt, had killed herself. In the very dramatic scene that follows, Conrad runs water over his wrists to cut them with a razor, changes his mind, runs down the street, calls his counselor Dr. Bergen who agrees to meet him at his office. The entire 9:59 scene is available on YouTube as Ordinary People (1980) "Because I'm Your Friend". The actual drama is so much more powerful than than this review.
When I saw this movie with my wife I was going through a very difficult time. As always with my bad times, I had everything going for me. I was twenty seven years old. I had a good job that I liked. I was married with a child on the way. I had few actual problems, but I was struggling emotionally in every way possible. I was not struggling with survivor's guilt, as Conrad was, but I was struggling with something.
But during this scene, my heart was pounding for Conrad and it was pounding for me. That voice that tells me to pay attention was talking to me. So I paid attention to every word, every voice inflection, and every facial expression. It was obvious that the scene was building to a dramatic climax. But it was after the emotional exchange that Conrad spoke the words that changed me, at least for a while. Dr. Bergen asked him, "And what was the wrong thing that you did?" And after a long pause, Conrad replied, "I hung on." When he said that, I put my face down in my lap and I sobbed.
It took me years to figure out what happened to me in that movie theater that afternoon. The main lesson was that in a crisis no matter what else you do or don't do, you have to hang on. You must get whatever help you need to at least stay alive. You might not feel good, but at least you're breathing. I also learned that help is available. Find it. When Conrad asks Dr. Berger how he can know that being alive is good, even when it hurts, Dr. Berger tells him, "Because I'm your friend." Find a counselor. Find a friend. Find the help you need. If possible, be that friend. Be the help s/he needs. But you have to hang on, too. Conrad could have drowned trying to save his brother. Just because you care about someone who is hurting or in trouble, doesn't necessarily mean that you're equipped to help them. There are limits to what you can do. Respect those limits.
Last year, Manchester by the Sea was nominated for six Academy Awards and won three. These awards included Best Picture. Casey Affleck won Best Actor for his role as Lee Chandler. Chandler inadvertently caused a fire that burned his house down taking the lives of his three children. So thirty six years after Ordinary People won Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor, Manchester by the Sea won basically the same awards for the same theme. Although I was touched deeply and at times watched Manchester by the Sea with a serious lump in my throat, I didn't put my face down and weep. I, too, was thirty six years down the road. I got help. I hung on.
In 1981, Robert Redford's film Ordinary People was nominated for six academy awards and won four including best picture. Timothy Hutton, as Conrad Jarrett, in his first role in a major motion picture edged out Judd Hirsch, his counselor, for Best Supporting Actor. In an interview the next day on Good Morning America, when asked how he stayed in character, Hutton said, "It was just me."
Conrad had two significant losses to deal with. The first was his older brother Buck's death in a sailboat accident. And then he found out when he called her in the middle of the night, that his friend Karen, who he had met in the mental hospital after his suicide attempt, had killed herself. In the very dramatic scene that follows, Conrad runs water over his wrists to cut them with a razor, changes his mind, runs down the street, calls his counselor Dr. Bergen who agrees to meet him at his office. The entire 9:59 scene is available on YouTube as Ordinary People (1980) "Because I'm Your Friend". The actual drama is so much more powerful than than this review.
When I saw this movie with my wife I was going through a very difficult time. As always with my bad times, I had everything going for me. I was twenty seven years old. I had a good job that I liked. I was married with a child on the way. I had few actual problems, but I was struggling emotionally in every way possible. I was not struggling with survivor's guilt, as Conrad was, but I was struggling with something.
But during this scene, my heart was pounding for Conrad and it was pounding for me. That voice that tells me to pay attention was talking to me. So I paid attention to every word, every voice inflection, and every facial expression. It was obvious that the scene was building to a dramatic climax. But it was after the emotional exchange that Conrad spoke the words that changed me, at least for a while. Dr. Bergen asked him, "And what was the wrong thing that you did?" And after a long pause, Conrad replied, "I hung on." When he said that, I put my face down in my lap and I sobbed.
It took me years to figure out what happened to me in that movie theater that afternoon. The main lesson was that in a crisis no matter what else you do or don't do, you have to hang on. You must get whatever help you need to at least stay alive. You might not feel good, but at least you're breathing. I also learned that help is available. Find it. When Conrad asks Dr. Berger how he can know that being alive is good, even when it hurts, Dr. Berger tells him, "Because I'm your friend." Find a counselor. Find a friend. Find the help you need. If possible, be that friend. Be the help s/he needs. But you have to hang on, too. Conrad could have drowned trying to save his brother. Just because you care about someone who is hurting or in trouble, doesn't necessarily mean that you're equipped to help them. There are limits to what you can do. Respect those limits.
Last year, Manchester by the Sea was nominated for six Academy Awards and won three. These awards included Best Picture. Casey Affleck won Best Actor for his role as Lee Chandler. Chandler inadvertently caused a fire that burned his house down taking the lives of his three children. So thirty six years after Ordinary People won Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor, Manchester by the Sea won basically the same awards for the same theme. Although I was touched deeply and at times watched Manchester by the Sea with a serious lump in my throat, I didn't put my face down and weep. I, too, was thirty six years down the road. I got help. I hung on.
Conrad "Con" Jarrett: [Berger is pretending to be Buck, Con's older brother] Bucky, I didn't mean it! Bucky, I didn't mean it!
Dr. Berger: What?
Conrad "Con" Jarrett: I said put the sail down, but you said keep it starboard, and then we go over! And you say "Hang on, Hang on!", but then you let go! Why'd you let go?
Dr. Berger: Because I was tired!
Conrad "Con" Jarrett: Oh yeah? Well, screw you, you jerk!
Dr. Berger: [Back in reality] It hurts to be mad at him, doesn't it?
Conrad "Con" Jarrett: God, I loved him. It's not fair. You just do one wrong thing, and...
Dr. Berger: And what was the one wrong thing you did? You know. You know.
Conrad "Con" Jarrett: I hung on. I stayed with the boat.
Dr. Berger: Exactly.
Friday, July 28, 2017
Everything is All Right
"Won't you look down upon me, Jesus;
You've got to help me make a stand
You've just got to see me through another day.
My body's aching and my time is at hand,
And I won't make it any other way." Fire and Rain, James Taylor 1970
There's a lot to a song, isn't there? There's the song itself--the lyrics, the melody and the instruments, but there is a universe of things swirling around those elements. There is much more to a song than the music itself.
I can remember where I was the first time I heard certain songs. Like the time in 1991 when I was sitting in my car in front of Walmart in Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia. My wife had gone in to grab something so I was parked on the sidewalk just in front of the store. The radio played, for the first of many times, "Walking in Memphis" by Marc Cohn. I love that song on so many levels. I have the CD. It's on a Spotify playlist. I've listened to it over and over, but I never hear it without going back to Walmart. Whenever you read what a song means, it's what the song means to the person writing. What a song means to that writer is totally different than what the song means to me. And what the song means to me is totally different than what the song means to you. Any song has as many meanings as the persons listening to it. "Walking in Memphis" may take you to Memphis; it takes me to Ft. Oglethorpe.
Or where I was in 1969 with my brother when I heard "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat and Tears for the first time. For you this song might be about riding a carousel or "an intriguing metaphor for the cycle of events we go through in life" (Songfacts). For me, it's mostly about being with my brother at 102 Glenn Street in Enterprise, Alabama. The music is just the beginning of what a song means.
If you listen to "Fire and Rain" and learn of its history, you will find a multitude of things. You'll learn that James Taylor had just gotten out of five months of drug rehab for his heroin addiction. You will learn that he had spent some time in a mental institution. You'll find out that a good friend of his had just been killed. The song begins with, "Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone. Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you. I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song, I just can't remember who to send it to." According to online sources, Suzanne was his friend who Taylor just learned had killed herself six months prior. This was a whole lot for a twenty two year old singer/songwriter to deal with. All of this had a profound impact on James Taylor and he poured all of it into his song. And the song had a profound impact on me. Just like "Walking in Memphis" takes me to Walmart, "Fire and Rain" takes me to a specific time and place. A few years ago at a real estate closing for some land my siblings and I sold in Enterprise, the title attorney asked us, "Did you know that at one time your grandfather owned nearly half of Enterprise, Alabama?" No we didn't know that. Our grandfather died before any of us were born. We knew he had "done well for himself". When knew that our grandmother who lived into her nineties, and our aunt, never worked another day in their lives, but we didn't know that he had owned half our hometown. Burt Redmon knew how to turn dirt into money. Besides property he had developed all over town, on the property of his own house on College Street, he built two different apartment buildings. If that wasn't enough income off your own property, he and my grandmother rented out a room in their house. In other words, he leveraged every piece of real estate he bought and owned. One of those apartment buildings was a garage apartment on a slab just behind their house. My friend Rick lived there and rented from my grandmother. But he wasn't my friend, exactly, he was my best friend's older brother. I have no idea why I was there. In 1970 I was a junior at the Enterprise High School where my friend was a senior. I didn't hang out with many "upper classmen" and I certainly didn't hang out with their older brothers, so again, I don't remember why I was there.
But on that fall Alabama afternoon, I was there. And while I was there he dropped the needle on "Fire and Rain". People tell me that I'm good with words, but I have no words for that moment. The song spilled out of those stereo speakers and wrapped around me like a warm blanket. And this was many years before the song and some of Taylor's experience landed close to home. In the time it took for me to listen to that song, I understood that it was good to be standing in an apartment my grandfather had built years before. I understood that it was good to be a high school student in Enterprise, Alabama. I understood that it was good to have a friend with a brother who rented from my grandmother. I understood a lot of things.
Earlier this evening when I listened to "Fire and Rain" on my Spotify 70s playlist, I thought, "I understand." I understand that with all the weight of emotion that I feel for so many people and so many events, it's good to be here. It's good to be on I-75 north on my way home to see my wife after a good day, a good week. It's good to be in a nice car, with a nice Bose stereo system, with a good air conditioner, listening to music from a cell phone. And it's good to remember when I was seventeen years old living in, of all places on earth, Enterprise, Alabama. And that night when I left Rick's apartment, I would have gone home to Mom and Dad, my kid sister, my funny looking dog Radcliff and my black and white cat Cherry. "Fire and Rain" meant much to me the first time I heard it in Enterprise, Alabama and forty seven years later it meant much to me on I-75 north in Ringgold, Georgia. A good song compresses time and space to a singularity, to a single moment.
On Sunday night August 7, 2005 Marc Cohn was leaving his concert in Denver, Colorado. As he was getting in his van a man tried to carjack them. The assailant shot Cohn in the head at point blank range. Instead of killing him instantly, the bullet lodged in his skull. He was treated and released from a local hospital. What was the singer's name who he was touring with? Suzanne Vega. I'm so very sorry James Taylor lost his friend Suzanne. I'm so very thankful Suzanne didn't lose her friend Marc "Won't you look down upon me Jesus. You've got to help me make a stand." James Taylor.(1970). "And Reverend Green will be glad to see you when you haven't got a prayer. But boy you've got a prayer in Memphis." Marc Cohn(1991). "If everything is going to be all right, then everything's all right." David Helms, age 19 (1972)
You've got to help me make a stand
You've just got to see me through another day.
My body's aching and my time is at hand,
And I won't make it any other way." Fire and Rain, James Taylor 1970
There's a lot to a song, isn't there? There's the song itself--the lyrics, the melody and the instruments, but there is a universe of things swirling around those elements. There is much more to a song than the music itself.
I can remember where I was the first time I heard certain songs. Like the time in 1991 when I was sitting in my car in front of Walmart in Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia. My wife had gone in to grab something so I was parked on the sidewalk just in front of the store. The radio played, for the first of many times, "Walking in Memphis" by Marc Cohn. I love that song on so many levels. I have the CD. It's on a Spotify playlist. I've listened to it over and over, but I never hear it without going back to Walmart. Whenever you read what a song means, it's what the song means to the person writing. What a song means to that writer is totally different than what the song means to me. And what the song means to me is totally different than what the song means to you. Any song has as many meanings as the persons listening to it. "Walking in Memphis" may take you to Memphis; it takes me to Ft. Oglethorpe.
Or where I was in 1969 with my brother when I heard "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat and Tears for the first time. For you this song might be about riding a carousel or "an intriguing metaphor for the cycle of events we go through in life" (Songfacts). For me, it's mostly about being with my brother at 102 Glenn Street in Enterprise, Alabama. The music is just the beginning of what a song means.
If you listen to "Fire and Rain" and learn of its history, you will find a multitude of things. You'll learn that James Taylor had just gotten out of five months of drug rehab for his heroin addiction. You will learn that he had spent some time in a mental institution. You'll find out that a good friend of his had just been killed. The song begins with, "Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone. Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you. I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song, I just can't remember who to send it to." According to online sources, Suzanne was his friend who Taylor just learned had killed herself six months prior. This was a whole lot for a twenty two year old singer/songwriter to deal with. All of this had a profound impact on James Taylor and he poured all of it into his song. And the song had a profound impact on me. Just like "Walking in Memphis" takes me to Walmart, "Fire and Rain" takes me to a specific time and place. A few years ago at a real estate closing for some land my siblings and I sold in Enterprise, the title attorney asked us, "Did you know that at one time your grandfather owned nearly half of Enterprise, Alabama?" No we didn't know that. Our grandfather died before any of us were born. We knew he had "done well for himself". When knew that our grandmother who lived into her nineties, and our aunt, never worked another day in their lives, but we didn't know that he had owned half our hometown. Burt Redmon knew how to turn dirt into money. Besides property he had developed all over town, on the property of his own house on College Street, he built two different apartment buildings. If that wasn't enough income off your own property, he and my grandmother rented out a room in their house. In other words, he leveraged every piece of real estate he bought and owned. One of those apartment buildings was a garage apartment on a slab just behind their house. My friend Rick lived there and rented from my grandmother. But he wasn't my friend, exactly, he was my best friend's older brother. I have no idea why I was there. In 1970 I was a junior at the Enterprise High School where my friend was a senior. I didn't hang out with many "upper classmen" and I certainly didn't hang out with their older brothers, so again, I don't remember why I was there.
But on that fall Alabama afternoon, I was there. And while I was there he dropped the needle on "Fire and Rain". People tell me that I'm good with words, but I have no words for that moment. The song spilled out of those stereo speakers and wrapped around me like a warm blanket. And this was many years before the song and some of Taylor's experience landed close to home. In the time it took for me to listen to that song, I understood that it was good to be standing in an apartment my grandfather had built years before. I understood that it was good to be a high school student in Enterprise, Alabama. I understood that it was good to have a friend with a brother who rented from my grandmother. I understood a lot of things.
Earlier this evening when I listened to "Fire and Rain" on my Spotify 70s playlist, I thought, "I understand." I understand that with all the weight of emotion that I feel for so many people and so many events, it's good to be here. It's good to be on I-75 north on my way home to see my wife after a good day, a good week. It's good to be in a nice car, with a nice Bose stereo system, with a good air conditioner, listening to music from a cell phone. And it's good to remember when I was seventeen years old living in, of all places on earth, Enterprise, Alabama. And that night when I left Rick's apartment, I would have gone home to Mom and Dad, my kid sister, my funny looking dog Radcliff and my black and white cat Cherry. "Fire and Rain" meant much to me the first time I heard it in Enterprise, Alabama and forty seven years later it meant much to me on I-75 north in Ringgold, Georgia. A good song compresses time and space to a singularity, to a single moment.
On Sunday night August 7, 2005 Marc Cohn was leaving his concert in Denver, Colorado. As he was getting in his van a man tried to carjack them. The assailant shot Cohn in the head at point blank range. Instead of killing him instantly, the bullet lodged in his skull. He was treated and released from a local hospital. What was the singer's name who he was touring with? Suzanne Vega. I'm so very sorry James Taylor lost his friend Suzanne. I'm so very thankful Suzanne didn't lose her friend Marc "Won't you look down upon me Jesus. You've got to help me make a stand." James Taylor.(1970). "And Reverend Green will be glad to see you when you haven't got a prayer. But boy you've got a prayer in Memphis." Marc Cohn(1991). "If everything is going to be all right, then everything's all right." David Helms, age 19 (1972)
Monday, July 24, 2017
The Perfect Marriage
You expect me to say, "There is no perfect marriage." I'm not going to say that. I know of one perfect marriage. But I'll get to that.
It's the music I was listening to that made me think of it as an analogy for marriage. So I'll first speak to marriage and then to the music. This is written from the perspective of a heterosexual, since I am one, but I would think that this all holds true for same-sex marriages as well. I love what Kinky Friedman wrote, "I support gay marriage. I believe they have a right to be as miserable as the rest of us."
Richard Bach in One said that you'll find wedding in the dictionary somewhere between weaving and welding. That says it fairly well. I don't pretend to be any sort of expert on marriage, but I do think that my forty plus years married to the same woman qualifies me to speak intelligently on the subject. My wife is fond of saying, "It's not the 50% that don't make it that amaze me, it's the 50% that do." I take no offense in that comment.
For years I held the opinion that the Unity Candle during a wedding ceremony depicts a terrible image. When done as usually performed, I still feel that way. Normally, as the ceremony begins, the parents of the bride and the parents of the groom walk up and light their respective candles on a candelabra of three candles. Then later in the service, the bride and groom take their candle and simultaneously light the center candle. This is when the horror happens. They each blow out the original candle and walk away. No! No! A thousand times no! God forbid that you each cease to exist. And then from the smoke of the extinguished candles, somehow this unity person comes into being. Maybe the seeds of that 50% failure are planted right here. I now offer a better image from Unity Candles. The parents come up and light their candles, at the appointed time, the bride and groom light the center candle from those two respective candles. They leave all three burning and walk back to their places.
I do now believe that the wedding creates a new entity. You have two individuals who existed before the wedding and who continue to exist and then you have the marriage. As important as the marriage is, it does not supplant the individuals, or it shouldn't anyway. When the couple repeats those marriage vows, they create the marriage. But they have certainly not created just wine and roses. I've heard people brag on a couple and suggest how good their marriage is because "they never fight." If a couple never argues, then somebody is never getting his or her way. If that's the case, you have no marriage, you have an autocracy. One person has all the power. Granted, disagreements that lead to shouting matches or worse can be damaging and even deadly to a marriage. But it's important that each partner's preferences are a part of that center entity. Sometimes the partner needs to push back even when it causes sparks to fly. The marriage will not only hold, but will be the better for it. More moderate and respectful disagreements can lead to less major fights like the long-term benefits of those frequent tremors in southern California.
I had my wife's car this afternoon which has no Sirius/XM radio. So I listened to music the old fashioned way with a CD. I was listening to one of my favorite bands, Breaking Benjamin. When a singer sings with instruments, it's called "accompaniment." That accompaniment could be one instrument or an ensemble. The singer is a human being and those instruments do not breathe. The singer and the instruments are separate things. However, listening this afternoon the singer and the instruments became one thing. I was no longer listening to the lead singer who was backed up by the instruments, I was listening to one thing--one combined sound. Obviously, this was not the first time I had heard this phenomenon, but it was the first time I heard his voice as an instrument and the instruments as his voice. These very separate things created one thing--music.
The perfect marriage? The perfect marriage, in my opinion, is chocolate and peanut butter. I enjoy chocolate and I enjoy peanut butter. They are different things. But when you put them together, something extraordinary is created. I don't know what it's called, but Reese has made billions from it. I'm not sure how Handel wrote Messiah in twenty one days. Some think it was a manic episode. May have been, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the inspiration started with chocolate and peanut butter. It's okay to extinguish the separate candles of chocolate and of peanut butter because what is created is far superior to what was left behind. And unlike two individuals in a marriage relationship, the chocolate and peanut butter, once combined, can never be anything else. And who would want them to be?
Weaving. Wedding. Welding. If that doesn't work out after several tries, you might consider just weaving or welding.
It's the music I was listening to that made me think of it as an analogy for marriage. So I'll first speak to marriage and then to the music. This is written from the perspective of a heterosexual, since I am one, but I would think that this all holds true for same-sex marriages as well. I love what Kinky Friedman wrote, "I support gay marriage. I believe they have a right to be as miserable as the rest of us."
Richard Bach in One said that you'll find wedding in the dictionary somewhere between weaving and welding. That says it fairly well. I don't pretend to be any sort of expert on marriage, but I do think that my forty plus years married to the same woman qualifies me to speak intelligently on the subject. My wife is fond of saying, "It's not the 50% that don't make it that amaze me, it's the 50% that do." I take no offense in that comment.
For years I held the opinion that the Unity Candle during a wedding ceremony depicts a terrible image. When done as usually performed, I still feel that way. Normally, as the ceremony begins, the parents of the bride and the parents of the groom walk up and light their respective candles on a candelabra of three candles. Then later in the service, the bride and groom take their candle and simultaneously light the center candle. This is when the horror happens. They each blow out the original candle and walk away. No! No! A thousand times no! God forbid that you each cease to exist. And then from the smoke of the extinguished candles, somehow this unity person comes into being. Maybe the seeds of that 50% failure are planted right here. I now offer a better image from Unity Candles. The parents come up and light their candles, at the appointed time, the bride and groom light the center candle from those two respective candles. They leave all three burning and walk back to their places.
I do now believe that the wedding creates a new entity. You have two individuals who existed before the wedding and who continue to exist and then you have the marriage. As important as the marriage is, it does not supplant the individuals, or it shouldn't anyway. When the couple repeats those marriage vows, they create the marriage. But they have certainly not created just wine and roses. I've heard people brag on a couple and suggest how good their marriage is because "they never fight." If a couple never argues, then somebody is never getting his or her way. If that's the case, you have no marriage, you have an autocracy. One person has all the power. Granted, disagreements that lead to shouting matches or worse can be damaging and even deadly to a marriage. But it's important that each partner's preferences are a part of that center entity. Sometimes the partner needs to push back even when it causes sparks to fly. The marriage will not only hold, but will be the better for it. More moderate and respectful disagreements can lead to less major fights like the long-term benefits of those frequent tremors in southern California.
I had my wife's car this afternoon which has no Sirius/XM radio. So I listened to music the old fashioned way with a CD. I was listening to one of my favorite bands, Breaking Benjamin. When a singer sings with instruments, it's called "accompaniment." That accompaniment could be one instrument or an ensemble. The singer is a human being and those instruments do not breathe. The singer and the instruments are separate things. However, listening this afternoon the singer and the instruments became one thing. I was no longer listening to the lead singer who was backed up by the instruments, I was listening to one thing--one combined sound. Obviously, this was not the first time I had heard this phenomenon, but it was the first time I heard his voice as an instrument and the instruments as his voice. These very separate things created one thing--music.
The perfect marriage? The perfect marriage, in my opinion, is chocolate and peanut butter. I enjoy chocolate and I enjoy peanut butter. They are different things. But when you put them together, something extraordinary is created. I don't know what it's called, but Reese has made billions from it. I'm not sure how Handel wrote Messiah in twenty one days. Some think it was a manic episode. May have been, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the inspiration started with chocolate and peanut butter. It's okay to extinguish the separate candles of chocolate and of peanut butter because what is created is far superior to what was left behind. And unlike two individuals in a marriage relationship, the chocolate and peanut butter, once combined, can never be anything else. And who would want them to be?
Weaving. Wedding. Welding. If that doesn't work out after several tries, you might consider just weaving or welding.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Laughing at Death
"What's lost is nothing to what's found." from Listen to Your Life, Frederick Buechner
I learned this morning of a man who killed himself last night. I didn't know the man. He and I had never met. But I know people who knew him. And because of that, I have been grieving his death today. It feels like it touches me.
But I'm grieving also for the pain it kicks up from distant losses to suicide. When my mother called me in October of 1990 to tell me that my best friend from childhood had taken his own life, as soon as we hung up, I called his mother. "Grief stricken" is such a gross understatement when a mother tries to absorb that blow. Even years later she asked me, "David, why did he do that? Why did he not ask me for help?" Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Regardless of the circumstances, that's what suicide leaves in its wake. If the victim leaves a note or thirteen tapes behind, he never answers the question "why?"
But I have my own ideas about the person who takes his or her own life. I am of the opinion that this person does not want to die, s/he wants to live. S/he has exhausted every possible solution to his problems and emotional despair this side of the ground. So s/he decides to take his chances on the other side. Whatever is there has to be better than this. The method of suicide is simply a means to this end, a door to the other side.
In many cases the suicide is triggered by some sort of event. In many other cases, there is no particular event that causes him to pull the trigger or climb to the tenth floor. I read just this morning, before I heard about this death, of a man whose teen aged son killed himself. The father said of his son, "He died of sadness." If you've never been depressed, there is no way to understand this. But it is possible to feel so awful for so long that you lose all hope of ever feeling any better. Buechner, who I quoted above, also wrote, "Now abides faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is hope." Once a person loses hope, he has lost everything. When you look at the world through the lens of hopelessness, then all of the world is gray. There is no color, no joy, no love. Nothing of value. Absolutely nothing to look forward to or to live for.
In spite of having so much at the time, I almost lost all hope. No matter what else you have, if you've lost hope, you've lost everything. I now keep hope beside me at all times. Now, no matter what else I lose, I always have hope. And I believe with all my heart and soul that in any every situation, "what is lost is nothing compared to what's found".
That night that I talked to my friend's mother, I asked her if I could come down and speak at his funeral. She said, "I would like that very much." And I added, "But some of it might be funny." She replied, "Well, we could all use some laughter right about now." And I did speak. And we did laugh. And it was good.
I find myself not knowing how to respond to this death, to this family. We say so often that "my thoughts and prayers are with you." And so for now that's the best I have, my thoughts and prayers. If it becomes clear that I can do something else, then I'll do it.
YouTube has strayed quite far from the video I originally listened to, Where Have the Actors Gone by Morten Lauridsen. As I write these words, YouTube is playing The Road Home by Stephen Paulus. That then is my prayer for this young man who took his own life last night and my best friend who took his own life in 1990. I hope to God that you found the road home. I hope to God that you found the peace you so desperately needed. I wish you could have found it here with us, but you didn't. I'll try to learn to accept that.
There's nothing funny about death. There's certainly nothing funny about suicide. God forbid we laugh because someone has died. We laugh because that person wasn't always so sad. We remember things he said and did that even now bring us joy and laughter. We laugh because what that person gave us is so much more than he has taken away. But most importantly, we laugh because death doesn't have the final word. As John Donne penned in 1609, "One short sleep past, we wake eternally and death shall be no more; death thou shalt die."
I learned this morning of a man who killed himself last night. I didn't know the man. He and I had never met. But I know people who knew him. And because of that, I have been grieving his death today. It feels like it touches me.
But I'm grieving also for the pain it kicks up from distant losses to suicide. When my mother called me in October of 1990 to tell me that my best friend from childhood had taken his own life, as soon as we hung up, I called his mother. "Grief stricken" is such a gross understatement when a mother tries to absorb that blow. Even years later she asked me, "David, why did he do that? Why did he not ask me for help?" Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Regardless of the circumstances, that's what suicide leaves in its wake. If the victim leaves a note or thirteen tapes behind, he never answers the question "why?"
But I have my own ideas about the person who takes his or her own life. I am of the opinion that this person does not want to die, s/he wants to live. S/he has exhausted every possible solution to his problems and emotional despair this side of the ground. So s/he decides to take his chances on the other side. Whatever is there has to be better than this. The method of suicide is simply a means to this end, a door to the other side.
In many cases the suicide is triggered by some sort of event. In many other cases, there is no particular event that causes him to pull the trigger or climb to the tenth floor. I read just this morning, before I heard about this death, of a man whose teen aged son killed himself. The father said of his son, "He died of sadness." If you've never been depressed, there is no way to understand this. But it is possible to feel so awful for so long that you lose all hope of ever feeling any better. Buechner, who I quoted above, also wrote, "Now abides faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is hope." Once a person loses hope, he has lost everything. When you look at the world through the lens of hopelessness, then all of the world is gray. There is no color, no joy, no love. Nothing of value. Absolutely nothing to look forward to or to live for.
In spite of having so much at the time, I almost lost all hope. No matter what else you have, if you've lost hope, you've lost everything. I now keep hope beside me at all times. Now, no matter what else I lose, I always have hope. And I believe with all my heart and soul that in any every situation, "what is lost is nothing compared to what's found".
That night that I talked to my friend's mother, I asked her if I could come down and speak at his funeral. She said, "I would like that very much." And I added, "But some of it might be funny." She replied, "Well, we could all use some laughter right about now." And I did speak. And we did laugh. And it was good.
I find myself not knowing how to respond to this death, to this family. We say so often that "my thoughts and prayers are with you." And so for now that's the best I have, my thoughts and prayers. If it becomes clear that I can do something else, then I'll do it.
YouTube has strayed quite far from the video I originally listened to, Where Have the Actors Gone by Morten Lauridsen. As I write these words, YouTube is playing The Road Home by Stephen Paulus. That then is my prayer for this young man who took his own life last night and my best friend who took his own life in 1990. I hope to God that you found the road home. I hope to God that you found the peace you so desperately needed. I wish you could have found it here with us, but you didn't. I'll try to learn to accept that.
There's nothing funny about death. There's certainly nothing funny about suicide. God forbid we laugh because someone has died. We laugh because that person wasn't always so sad. We remember things he said and did that even now bring us joy and laughter. We laugh because what that person gave us is so much more than he has taken away. But most importantly, we laugh because death doesn't have the final word. As John Donne penned in 1609, "One short sleep past, we wake eternally and death shall be no more; death thou shalt die."
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Facing the Music
I'm listening to music that I love that I have not listened to for over ten years. When I bought A Tribute to Evanescence, I didn't pay close attention to the CD case. I thought it was actually Amy Lee. As it turned out it was a band covering the music of Evanescence. But it's really good music.
Over ten years ago, just after Christmas, I christened my new Bose headphones by listening to this CD. In about forty five minutes of temporary insanity, to really feel the music, I kept turning the volume louder and louder. I'm sure that there were alarms going off that I was doing something very dangerous. I'm sure there was a voice telling me to stop. But just like somebody who has had too much to drink, the part of his brain that should tell him that he has had enough is inebriated. So he keeps drinking until he makes a fool of himself and is a danger to himself and to society.
The warning I finally paid attention to was when my wife tapped me on the shoulder to inform me that she could hear my headphones in the next room. And I heeded her warning. But it was too late. The damage was done. I would pay for my forty-five minutes of bliss for the remainder of my mortal life.
When I finally stopped listening and removed my headphones, my left ear was ringing. I didn't pay much attention to it because my ears had rung temporarily on many occasions over the years. This ringing was particularly annoying. It had two or three different frequencies that I heard simultaneously. There was no where to escape the noise. It was particularly bad when everything else was quiet. Waking up in the night was particularly troublesome.
When the noise continued, I made an appointment with an audiologist. He examined my ears and asked me several questions about what I had done and what I was hearing. After a few minutes he delivered the devastating news, "This ringing is permanent. It's not going to stop." I just sat there and looked at him in disbelief. Sound and music was my life. To think that I would forever have this demonic hiss as a part of the ensemble was unthinkable.
For several years I wore a masker. This device, which looked like a hearing aid, produced a constant white noise to "mask" the ringing.And it helped a lot. One unfortunate side effect of tinnitus is hearing loss. He replaced my masker with a hearing aid. I told him that I was more concerned about the ringing than the hearing and he said, "The increased sound in the hearing aid will act as a masker." And it has.
There is no cure for tinnitus. Like for me, there are several "remedies" and maskers, but there is no cure. In the cochlea of the ear there are millions of microscopic sensory hair cells. With prolonged noise, repeated noise or as in my case just too much noise, these cells can be permanently damaged. And the incessant ringing ensues.
I'm glad that I'm finally listening to this CD. Until tonight I just haven't been able to face the music. I was never particularly concerned that the CD would be emotionally painful to listen to , I was afraid that it would make me feel stupid. I don't like to feel stupid. Instead, the music makes me feel grateful. I feel grateful that I have learned to deal with noise over the years. I can now go for hours without giving it a thought. I'm thankful for these new and improved Bose noise- cancellation headphones I'm wearing. No they don't cancel the noise inside my head, but the phones cancel most of the noise outside my skull. In many cases, it cancels all of it. Because of that cancellation, I can enjoy music at lower volumes. I'm grateful for the music itself and that I have a deep capacity for appreciating and comprehending a wide variety of music. And I'm grateful for my current audiologist. She is both kind and compassionate. She seems to understand the severity of my suffering. And she fits me with devices that help me deal with it. I'm not wearing this hearing aid now because I'm wearing my headphones, but I'm looking at it. It is in the top four of my most treasured personal belongings, after my PC, Bose headphones and wireless router. Just seeing it brings me great comfort.
The best advice I ever received regarding tinnitus was not from my ENT or audiologist, it was from my brother. I was sitting on a bench in front of a country home a few weeks after my diagnosis talking to him on the phone. I was lamenting the fact that the noise in my head was drowning out all the noises of the countryside. He asked me, "Can you still hear?" And I replied, "Yes, I can still hear." "Then stop listening to the ringing and listen to everything else." And that's what I've done these ten years. I've tried to listen to everything else.
The downside of talking about tinnitus is that my ear is ringing off the hook. No, it's not from the music; it's from the attention I'm giving it. I wouldn't wish tinnitus on an enemy. It is a horribly annoying condition to live with. You just can't get away from it. Anytime. Anywhere. But I wouldn't trade my problems for anybody else's. Would you?
One last thing, you need to pay attention to that statement on the sunscreen can that warns you not to spray it on your face. Even if you cover your eyes, it's a really bad idea.
Over ten years ago, just after Christmas, I christened my new Bose headphones by listening to this CD. In about forty five minutes of temporary insanity, to really feel the music, I kept turning the volume louder and louder. I'm sure that there were alarms going off that I was doing something very dangerous. I'm sure there was a voice telling me to stop. But just like somebody who has had too much to drink, the part of his brain that should tell him that he has had enough is inebriated. So he keeps drinking until he makes a fool of himself and is a danger to himself and to society.
The warning I finally paid attention to was when my wife tapped me on the shoulder to inform me that she could hear my headphones in the next room. And I heeded her warning. But it was too late. The damage was done. I would pay for my forty-five minutes of bliss for the remainder of my mortal life.
When I finally stopped listening and removed my headphones, my left ear was ringing. I didn't pay much attention to it because my ears had rung temporarily on many occasions over the years. This ringing was particularly annoying. It had two or three different frequencies that I heard simultaneously. There was no where to escape the noise. It was particularly bad when everything else was quiet. Waking up in the night was particularly troublesome.
When the noise continued, I made an appointment with an audiologist. He examined my ears and asked me several questions about what I had done and what I was hearing. After a few minutes he delivered the devastating news, "This ringing is permanent. It's not going to stop." I just sat there and looked at him in disbelief. Sound and music was my life. To think that I would forever have this demonic hiss as a part of the ensemble was unthinkable.
For several years I wore a masker. This device, which looked like a hearing aid, produced a constant white noise to "mask" the ringing.And it helped a lot. One unfortunate side effect of tinnitus is hearing loss. He replaced my masker with a hearing aid. I told him that I was more concerned about the ringing than the hearing and he said, "The increased sound in the hearing aid will act as a masker." And it has.
There is no cure for tinnitus. Like for me, there are several "remedies" and maskers, but there is no cure. In the cochlea of the ear there are millions of microscopic sensory hair cells. With prolonged noise, repeated noise or as in my case just too much noise, these cells can be permanently damaged. And the incessant ringing ensues.
I'm glad that I'm finally listening to this CD. Until tonight I just haven't been able to face the music. I was never particularly concerned that the CD would be emotionally painful to listen to , I was afraid that it would make me feel stupid. I don't like to feel stupid. Instead, the music makes me feel grateful. I feel grateful that I have learned to deal with noise over the years. I can now go for hours without giving it a thought. I'm thankful for these new and improved Bose noise- cancellation headphones I'm wearing. No they don't cancel the noise inside my head, but the phones cancel most of the noise outside my skull. In many cases, it cancels all of it. Because of that cancellation, I can enjoy music at lower volumes. I'm grateful for the music itself and that I have a deep capacity for appreciating and comprehending a wide variety of music. And I'm grateful for my current audiologist. She is both kind and compassionate. She seems to understand the severity of my suffering. And she fits me with devices that help me deal with it. I'm not wearing this hearing aid now because I'm wearing my headphones, but I'm looking at it. It is in the top four of my most treasured personal belongings, after my PC, Bose headphones and wireless router. Just seeing it brings me great comfort.
The best advice I ever received regarding tinnitus was not from my ENT or audiologist, it was from my brother. I was sitting on a bench in front of a country home a few weeks after my diagnosis talking to him on the phone. I was lamenting the fact that the noise in my head was drowning out all the noises of the countryside. He asked me, "Can you still hear?" And I replied, "Yes, I can still hear." "Then stop listening to the ringing and listen to everything else." And that's what I've done these ten years. I've tried to listen to everything else.
The downside of talking about tinnitus is that my ear is ringing off the hook. No, it's not from the music; it's from the attention I'm giving it. I wouldn't wish tinnitus on an enemy. It is a horribly annoying condition to live with. You just can't get away from it. Anytime. Anywhere. But I wouldn't trade my problems for anybody else's. Would you?
One last thing, you need to pay attention to that statement on the sunscreen can that warns you not to spray it on your face. Even if you cover your eyes, it's a really bad idea.
Monday, July 10, 2017
More Than a Rock
"The source of my inspiration may at times be inherent and obvious, or it may be also implied or nuanced; it may be something common to many people or unique to my own way of thinking. As such my work is rarely a simple objective representation of what is in front of my lens. My goal as an artist is to focus my viewer's attention and inspire certain emotions by using those visual elements that best convey what inspired me to make an image. To an extent this can be accomplished through visual composition alone, and without the need for further adjustment, but not always. Do not confuse what is visible with what is real; despite a degree of overlap, they are not the same thing. What's real about an expressive image is never its objectivity, but how it is subjectively perceived." More Than a Rock, Guy Tal, Rocky Nook, Inc. 2015 Used by Permission
Several years ago, when I entitled my blog, In a Different Light, I, more accidentally than intentionally, used a multi-faceted metaphor. So by design or inspiration, the title serves a number of useful purposes. There is the obvious reference to the common expression "in a different light" meaning to look at something in another way. There is a meaning from physics, from the photon packets that travel at 180,000 miles per second from the sun that give us light and life. But the meaning most obvious to me is from the world of photography. Any photographic image is of something exposed by light onto a photographic surface such as film or a digital sensor. Without light, photography is not possible. Any photograph you view is a record of light.
For my recent birthday, my wife gave me two things: She gave me the green light to buy a camera I've been looking at and a gift card to Barnes and Noble. With that gift card, I bought The Universe in your Hand: a Journey Through Space, Time, and Beyond, by Christophe Galfard and the book More Than a Rock quoted above.
More Than a Rock is mostly about photography, but it is subtitled "Essays on Art, Creativity, Photography, Nature, and Life". All the chapters are very short, so I am reading the book more as a devotional than as a book. When I read the words that I have quoted above, as he is speaking about photography, I was thinking not about taking photos, but about writing. "The source...may be something common to many people or unique to my own way of thinking." Writing for me has been an exercise in bravery. Am I really willing to write and then to post on the internet how I really feel about things? To say a definitive "yes" would not be the whole truth. Anything you read from me is the abridged version from my actual thoughts, beliefs and feelings. But I think, believe and feel everything you read from me. " And what you get from me is always "unique to my own way of thinking." If I simply repeat what I've been told is true by someone else, then it may be somewhat helpful, but it is not "in a different light"; it;s not really me.
"Do not confuse what is visible with what is real; despite a degree of overlap, they are not the same thing." Tal gets his title from an illustration about taking a photograph of a rock. He says that if you're going to take a picture of a rock, then the result needs to be more than a rock. Tal then suggests that if the resulting photo is not more than a rock, then why take the picture? When I write, I try to create something. I try to say something that hasn't been said. If I talk about something I've talked about more than once, I try to say it in a different way.
"What's real about an expressive image is never its objectivity, but how it is subjectively perceived." As a writer, I am keenly aware of the fact that what I write and what you read are entirely different. Whereas, I am writing with my own understanding of the English language and from my own experience, you are reading with your understanding of the English language and from your own experience. In this gap is the miracle of communication where at least some mutual understanding occurs. I have received enough feedback to know that I am being heard, that what I have intended to say is being understood. This then feeds into that loop of creativity, that your understanding and appreciation inspires me to keep writing.
"The source of my inspiration may at times be inherent and obvious, or it may also be implied or nuanced." I've learned in writing that there is a difference between "feeling inspired" and "being inspired." I often do not feel inspired to write when I want to write. So then, why not wait for "inspiration" before writing anything? If I "waited for inspiration" you would not be reading this. I didn't feel inspired to write; I just wanted to write. And I enjoyed writing this and hopefully you enjoyed reading it. Tal says that he wants to "inspire certain emotions" through his photography. In my case, I hope you feel something of what I feel when you read, but in reality you will feel something different than what I intended. What looks to me like much more than a rock, may to you just look like a rock.
Several years ago, when I entitled my blog, In a Different Light, I, more accidentally than intentionally, used a multi-faceted metaphor. So by design or inspiration, the title serves a number of useful purposes. There is the obvious reference to the common expression "in a different light" meaning to look at something in another way. There is a meaning from physics, from the photon packets that travel at 180,000 miles per second from the sun that give us light and life. But the meaning most obvious to me is from the world of photography. Any photographic image is of something exposed by light onto a photographic surface such as film or a digital sensor. Without light, photography is not possible. Any photograph you view is a record of light.
For my recent birthday, my wife gave me two things: She gave me the green light to buy a camera I've been looking at and a gift card to Barnes and Noble. With that gift card, I bought The Universe in your Hand: a Journey Through Space, Time, and Beyond, by Christophe Galfard and the book More Than a Rock quoted above.
More Than a Rock is mostly about photography, but it is subtitled "Essays on Art, Creativity, Photography, Nature, and Life". All the chapters are very short, so I am reading the book more as a devotional than as a book. When I read the words that I have quoted above, as he is speaking about photography, I was thinking not about taking photos, but about writing. "The source...may be something common to many people or unique to my own way of thinking." Writing for me has been an exercise in bravery. Am I really willing to write and then to post on the internet how I really feel about things? To say a definitive "yes" would not be the whole truth. Anything you read from me is the abridged version from my actual thoughts, beliefs and feelings. But I think, believe and feel everything you read from me. " And what you get from me is always "unique to my own way of thinking." If I simply repeat what I've been told is true by someone else, then it may be somewhat helpful, but it is not "in a different light"; it;s not really me.
"Do not confuse what is visible with what is real; despite a degree of overlap, they are not the same thing." Tal gets his title from an illustration about taking a photograph of a rock. He says that if you're going to take a picture of a rock, then the result needs to be more than a rock. Tal then suggests that if the resulting photo is not more than a rock, then why take the picture? When I write, I try to create something. I try to say something that hasn't been said. If I talk about something I've talked about more than once, I try to say it in a different way.
"What's real about an expressive image is never its objectivity, but how it is subjectively perceived." As a writer, I am keenly aware of the fact that what I write and what you read are entirely different. Whereas, I am writing with my own understanding of the English language and from my own experience, you are reading with your understanding of the English language and from your own experience. In this gap is the miracle of communication where at least some mutual understanding occurs. I have received enough feedback to know that I am being heard, that what I have intended to say is being understood. This then feeds into that loop of creativity, that your understanding and appreciation inspires me to keep writing.
"The source of my inspiration may at times be inherent and obvious, or it may also be implied or nuanced." I've learned in writing that there is a difference between "feeling inspired" and "being inspired." I often do not feel inspired to write when I want to write. So then, why not wait for "inspiration" before writing anything? If I "waited for inspiration" you would not be reading this. I didn't feel inspired to write; I just wanted to write. And I enjoyed writing this and hopefully you enjoyed reading it. Tal says that he wants to "inspire certain emotions" through his photography. In my case, I hope you feel something of what I feel when you read, but in reality you will feel something different than what I intended. What looks to me like much more than a rock, may to you just look like a rock.
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Einstein and Spinoza Walk Into a Bar
A few days ago, John Tumpane, a major league umpire, was walking to the PNC Park in Pittsburgh when he saw something that didn't look right. A woman had stepped over and was standing against the railing on the Roberto Clemente Bridge. He walked over, wrapped his arms around her and held her, preventing her from jumping. He held her against her protests until other people could come to their aid. He and the others were able to save the woman's life. Later Tumpane said of the incident. "I couldn't tell you how long we were waiting for everyone else to get in place. Obviously another power comes into be when you're hanging on and you know what the alternative is of letting go.and not having other people to help you."
An atheist, agnostic or a skeptic might say that this other "power" he referred to was adrenaline. We all have heard of feats of super human strength in crisis situations. Maybe that's what he meant and I'm about to attribute something mystical to a physical phenomenon. I have no way of knowing what he meant by what he said.
But regardless of his intention I am going to talk about "another power" of the mystical variety.
Recently, before the incident on the bridge, I had a brief conversation with a young lady who has lofty academic and vocational aspirations. We didn't talk much about her vocational dreams, but we did talk about college. Next year she will complete two years at a local college and then she wants to transfer to Georgia Tech. It's not easy to get accepted into this school and once accepted it's not easy to stay there. She feels that she has the smarts to make the cut, but is concerned about the money. I said, "When you set your heart and your mind to something like this, I think that there are powers that help you." She looked at me with a rather puzzled look on her face and asked, "What do you mean 'powers' "? I said, "Some call this power 'God', I'll just call it "powers." She just kept searching my face to make sure I was serious and asked, "And why would these powers help me?" I continued, "Because these powers not only want you to survive, but they want the world to survive. These powers want humanity to survive and when they find someone like you who can help make that happen, they promote you. They help you." After another pause and another quick search of my face, she said, "Okay, I like that."
Yesterday, I read an article about how scientists are considering that the universe is conscious. Panpsychism is not a new theory. The idea that the universe is conscious has been around for centuries. But now the idea that we are not only conscious of the universe, but the universe is conscious of us is no longer just the property of philosophers and mystics. This idea is being discussed at the highest levels of scientific studies. Physicists, for example, know that quantum particles do not exist in any particular place until they are observed. But now they are considering this phenomenon as possible evidence that these particles are actually conscious. In a nutshell, panpsychism suggests that human consciousness exists as a part of this universal consciousness. The universe doesn't exist because we see it, but we exist because it sees us. So what I suggested to my friend about her college was not so far-fetched after all. Maybe the universe does want to help us.
If I could share a beer with John Tumpane to discuss what happened on that bridge, he would probably say, "I only meant that in situations like that, we find strength that we didn't know we had." But then I could ask, "Then where did that strength come from? Who are what gave you that strength?" And then if I pressed it any further and started talking about panpsychism, he'd probably stand up, throw his thumb over his shoulder and say, "You're out!"
An atheist, agnostic or a skeptic might say that this other "power" he referred to was adrenaline. We all have heard of feats of super human strength in crisis situations. Maybe that's what he meant and I'm about to attribute something mystical to a physical phenomenon. I have no way of knowing what he meant by what he said.
But regardless of his intention I am going to talk about "another power" of the mystical variety.
Recently, before the incident on the bridge, I had a brief conversation with a young lady who has lofty academic and vocational aspirations. We didn't talk much about her vocational dreams, but we did talk about college. Next year she will complete two years at a local college and then she wants to transfer to Georgia Tech. It's not easy to get accepted into this school and once accepted it's not easy to stay there. She feels that she has the smarts to make the cut, but is concerned about the money. I said, "When you set your heart and your mind to something like this, I think that there are powers that help you." She looked at me with a rather puzzled look on her face and asked, "What do you mean 'powers' "? I said, "Some call this power 'God', I'll just call it "powers." She just kept searching my face to make sure I was serious and asked, "And why would these powers help me?" I continued, "Because these powers not only want you to survive, but they want the world to survive. These powers want humanity to survive and when they find someone like you who can help make that happen, they promote you. They help you." After another pause and another quick search of my face, she said, "Okay, I like that."
Yesterday, I read an article about how scientists are considering that the universe is conscious. Panpsychism is not a new theory. The idea that the universe is conscious has been around for centuries. But now the idea that we are not only conscious of the universe, but the universe is conscious of us is no longer just the property of philosophers and mystics. This idea is being discussed at the highest levels of scientific studies. Physicists, for example, know that quantum particles do not exist in any particular place until they are observed. But now they are considering this phenomenon as possible evidence that these particles are actually conscious. In a nutshell, panpsychism suggests that human consciousness exists as a part of this universal consciousness. The universe doesn't exist because we see it, but we exist because it sees us. So what I suggested to my friend about her college was not so far-fetched after all. Maybe the universe does want to help us.
If I could share a beer with John Tumpane to discuss what happened on that bridge, he would probably say, "I only meant that in situations like that, we find strength that we didn't know we had." But then I could ask, "Then where did that strength come from? Who are what gave you that strength?" And then if I pressed it any further and started talking about panpsychism, he'd probably stand up, throw his thumb over his shoulder and say, "You're out!"
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