Anupriya Kumari, Hope, Human Nature, Life, Love, Loyalty, Passion, Poetry, Purpose, Resilience, Terese, Teresums

Burn a Candle Against the Night

Light a stick of jasmine tonight
And I will light one too.

A stick shall burn near the sea,
And another near the mountains.

Is not jasmine the same scent for everyone?

Burn a tapering candle tonight
And I will burn a tapering candle too.

Continue reading “Burn a Candle Against the Night”

Consciousness, Cultural Change, Cultural Traits, Culture, Education, Hope, Human Nature, Humanism, Learning, Life, Living, Memes, Nature, Quality of Life, Self, Self Image, Society, Spirituality

Humans are Myth-Makers. Always Have Been, Always Will be.

Young people learn so much so fast,  so furiously fast, you’re always surprised how fast they learn not to learn.

They move so fast at first you think they are about to escape the gravity of human nature.  You might even think you see in them the fabled generation.  The generation that is about to show that human nature bends upward, advances, progresses — at least now and then.

Continue reading “Humans are Myth-Makers. Always Have Been, Always Will be.”

Abuse, Agape, Alienation, Alienation From Self, Alison, Attachment, Authenticity, Being True To Yourself, Christianity, Evil, Happiness, Hope, Human Nature, Jana, Knowledge, Learning, Life, Living, Love, Lovers, Oppression, People, Poetry, Quality of Life, Relationships, Spiritual Alienation, Spirituality, Unconditional Love

A Flock of Sparrows for Majel: The Tragedy of Fool’s Gold

A Flock of Sparrows for Majel

(About an 8 minute read)

Jana was nearby,
For a decade, always nearby.
But I was not close to her.

She became my wife
And we shared a house.
We shared a bed.
We shared our bodies,
And we told each other
We shared our hearts and minds.

In truth, she was that spot on my back
That I never could see,
And that I never could reach
No matter how often,
And no matter how hard
I stared into the mirror,
And turning this way or that,
Tried to spot her.

Continue reading “A Flock of Sparrows for Majel: The Tragedy of Fool’s Gold”

Anger, Boredom, Emotions, Free Spirit, From Around the Net, Hope, Horniness, Human Nature, Life, New Idea, Outstanding Bloggers, People, Relationships, Self, Self Identity, Self Image, Sense of Relatedness, Stolen From The Blogosphere

A Critique of “Why Books are Living Things” by D. Wallace Peach

(About a 7 minute read)

Sometime around the age of 16, my heart suddenly bloomed — riotously bloomed — for a much older woman than me.  Although older, she was stunningly gorgeous and just as creatively free spirited as she was gorgeous.  I had never met anyone like her before.

She was so much more fascinating than the girls in my high school.  The one thing  I thought I valued most in people — very much including girls — was intelligence, and I thought the older woman possessed gobs more intelligence than the girls I knew.  “Why can’t more girls be like her”, I would think.  Poor girls!

Yet, I didn’t fully know myself in high school.  It wasn’t precisely intelligence I valued.  It was intelligent creativity, with the emphasis on the latter.  I wasn’t much of a fan of being dumb in creative ways, but I was a huge fan of being intelligent in creative ways, the more creative, the better.  The older woman was so creative, intelligently creative, that she was a genuine free spirit.

Another thing I didn’t know about myself at the time was that I was afflicted with adolescent depression.  As a consequence, my emotional range most days was pretty much restricted to boredom, loneliness, anger, and horniness.  But she added hope to that mix.

I began to hope that, even though she herself might not be for me, there might be someone out there like her who was for me.   Quite a positive hope.

In fact, the only great negative thing to me about the much older women was the fact she wasn’t real.  She was the character Star in Robert A. Heinlein’s novel, Glory Road.    Empress of the Twenty Universes.  Mother of dozens of children (via egg donation).  Recipient of special medical treatments for longevity.   Intelligent.  Creative.  Free spirited.

And fictional.

I was reminded of Star early this morning when I came across a blog post by the author, D. Wallace Peach, on Why Books are Living Things.  It’s a short, thought-provoking read in which Peach essentially makes three points, and it was her third point that inspired me to think of Star.

If I understand her, Peach argues that we can “enter into relationship” with the stories we encounter in some very significant ways:

Books and the people who inhabit them can open eyes, stir the heart, elicit a deep sense of longing or grief, outrage or fear. I’ve fallen madly in love with protagonists, profoundly altered the path of my life, made new choices, expanded my understanding of the world, all through my relationships with books.

Thus, for Peach, stories are fully capable of influencing our lives in the same ways as people — real, living people — can influence our lives.  Fully capable.

To get a more concrete idea of what Peach might be talking about, I searched my experiences until I remembered Star.   I had “entered into relationship” with Star in more ways than merely desiring her.  She set a standard for me for what I wanted in a woman, and that ideal lasted for a few years — until I met at university a woman who dwarfed even her.  The point is, though: Star was in some ways just as much of an influence on me as could be a real person.

Peach’s second point is more novel to me than her third.  She argues that relationships have a kind of reality to them that I never before thought they might possess:

While studying for a degree in a pastoral counselor, I took this great class called “The Spirituality of Relationship.” In essence, it described a relationship as a new entity, a created presence with a life of its own that requires nurturing and an investment of time to thrive.

As an instance of a relationship with “a life of its own”, Peach gives the example of children in a divorce.  The children, if they have a happy relationship with both parents after the divorce, do not grieve the loss of their parents, but might still grieve the loss of their parent’s relationship to each other.

A fair point, I think, but one that seems to conflict with my own view of non-causal relationships as wholly concepts in our mind.  Because Peach’s idea is novel to me, it might take awhile for me to give it a decent and honorable hearing, so to speak.  Something I’m not satisfied I’ve done yet.  Hence, I won’t comment on it further here.

Peach’s first point is far more familiar to me.  Like many people, I am consciously aware of the fact that humans are story-telling animals, and so is Peach.  (It even seems to me that we instinctively tell stories.  That is, that story-telling is an inherent human trait, a manifestation of our DNA.  Why else has every people on earth, past or present, told stories?)  She makes some excellent points about stories:  That they can be filters or lens through which we view our world; that they can guide our decisions; and that they can create a sense of meaning for us.

She goes on, however, to make some claims I’m uncomfortable with, being the fool I am (for further in-depth, detailed information on what a fool I am, see either one of my two ex-wives).  For instance, she seems to suggest that we are primarily — or to some large extent — the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. I’m not entirely sure that’s precisely what she meant, but if it is then I have an issue or two with it.

I think most of us would like to believe we are the stories we tell about ourselves, at least the good ones, but that we are not.  Not in any profound way.

Now, I do recognize that our stories comprise a large and significant part of our self-image. And that our self-image is something we often take action (or, sometimes refuse to take action) in light of.  I might tell myself stories of when I acted compassionately, in consequence of which, I might now and then act more compassionately than I actually feel towards someone simply to avoid contradicting my stories, or at least the self-image that my stories have done so much to create.   All of that, I don’t dispute.

I would, however, offer to arm wrestle Peach over the issue of just how important self-image (and by implication, stories) is in comparison to the whole of our selves.  Arm wrestle her, of course, because she’d probably win any purely intellectual dispute, but I am a fierce arm-wrestler (I know how to tickle my way to victory).  It just seems to me that self-image is commonly over-blown as a vital component of our individual natures.  It’s like the boss who gets all the credit and attention while the employees do all the work.  I have yet to write a post wholly devoted to what I think of as the self, but I have written some posts that bring up quite a bit of what I mean.  One of those can be found here for anyone interested.

Overall, I find myself much more in agreement with Peach, than in disagreement, which saddens me, given how fond I am of arm wrestling.  Her short but entirely thought-provoking post can be found here.  Now seems a good time to turn the discussion over to you.  What do you think of her views?  Is she onto something?  Your opinions, thoughts, feelings, and challenges to arm wrestling are more than welcome!

Bernie Sanders, Class War, Elections, Equality, Hope, Human Nature, Idealism, Liars Lies and Lying, News and Current Events, People, Political Issues, Politicians and Scoundrels, Politics, Truth

Bernie Sanders Tells the Truth, But Does it Give You Hope?

Perhaps like most members of our species of incredibly sophisticated poo-flinging super-apes, I am fully capable of taking pleasure in imagining  things that happen not, in fact, to be true.

Often enough, my imaginings are clearly fantastic: For instance, the extraordinarily pleasant fantasy that I have been elected Emperor of the Planet, and have managed to end war, involuntary poverty, disease, crime, and vicious paper cuts while at the same time justly employing my imperial powers to at last wreak final revenge on that hideous Brian T. Jurgens, who unfairly and outrageously gave me a black eye in third grade before I could unfairly and outrageously give him a black eye.

Not that the memory of losing a distant childhood battle to a person of no consequence such as Brian could possibly still rankle even in full adulthood a man of my dignity and advanced wisdom: In truth, I’m only dispassionately interested in doing justice, you see, and the uncontrollable cackling you might now hear if you were nearby has nothing at all to do with obsessed glee at the merest fleeting mental image of sauteing Brian in a man-size pan of boiling dragon’s pee.

In addition to all my other noble accomplishments as Emperor, I also once tried fantasizing that I got imperially laid without, however, inflicting insufferable boredom on the lady who laid me, but even in fantasies there are limits to what a person is able to consider imaginable.

Or are there limits?  I was reminded just yesterday morning of how flimsy is the notion of limits to what we can think conceivable when an old priest approvingly quoted a statement once made by Pope John Paul II on the topic of homosexual marriage:

 “It is legitimate and necessary to ask oneself if this [gay marriage] is not perhaps part of a new ideology of evil, perhaps more insidious and hidden, which attempts to pit human rights against the family and against man.”

Now, I think the Pope’s statement is fantastic.  That is, it seems to me right up there on the same level of fantasy as my imagining I am the Emperor of the Planet.  For, so far as I can see, the two claims have in common that there is not one single bit of sound evidence in support of either one of them.    But the fact the Pope’s statement is bunk isn’t what really struck me about it.

What really struck me was how the statement is just one small drop in a daily flood of nonsense. Some long time ago, I stumbled across a beautiful book of Native American poetry.  One of the poems spoke powerfully of someone who was a pathological liar: “And your words when you speak are like a wind from four quarters that carries the dust to my eyes no matter which way I turn.”  It can seem like that — seem like there’s no direction you can turn, nor place you can go in society today, that you are not being told nonsense.

Nonsense such as the Theory of Evolution is scientifically unsound, there is little or no climate change brought about by our burning fossil fuels, abstinence-only sex education works as advertised, cutting taxes on the rich will bring jobs and prosperity for all, and even that there is a War on Christmas — among many, many other such things.

And that, in a rather round about way, brings me now to Bernie Sanders.

Sanders seems to me usually honest, especially for a politician.   And — apparently by telling the truth (!) about such things as the nature, causes, and consequences of income inequality — he has become quite popular.

When the old priest quoted John Paul II yesterday morning, I at first reacted like I usually do when told a lie:  I internally sighed because I thought of how so many of us  believe such lies.  For perhaps what is most overwhelming about the daily flood is not so much the lies themselves but that so many of us swallow those lies.  How can one view with optimism the long term fate of our noble species of advanced spear-chuckers if we are basically such fools, such simple-minded fools?

But then along has come Sanders who both tells the truth  and, apparently, has struck a chord with folks by telling the truth.  He not only draws people to his speeches in record numbers, but he is also surging in many polls.

In a way, whether Sanders wins the nomination or the presidency matters less than the extraordinary response he’s gotten to speaking truth:  Speaking it — not to the powerful — but to common people.  To people that so many of our powerful elites these days seem to contemptuously think of as easily manipulated and exploited dolts.  Yet I think people’s response to Sanders permits us cautious hope for a better future, for it possibly bodes that sooner or later the truth will prevail among us despite the daily flood of lies.  However, another part of me worries that I am once again only fantasizing, and that the people’s response to Sanders means no such thing.  I suppose time will tell which part of me is correct.

Attachment, Delusion, Hope, Idealism, Politician, Politicians and Scoundrels, Politics

Why Can’t We Get Better Leaders?

Most politicians are dysfunctional swine. We only love and support them because we are fools to project our hopes and dreams onto them.

If that’s not a large part of the problem, then what is?

(This post inspired by a video posted by the Decrepit Old Fool.)