The Truth Coin

   I started on this topic from an entirely different tact, and, well, got tar-babied.  If you’re unfamiliar with that term, it comes from the complied works of African-American folktales near about 1880’s and adapted by Joel Chandler Harris.  The narrator of the tales is named Uncle Remus.  In the particular tale I am referring to, there was a doll of tar and turpentine used to entrap Br’er Rabbit.   The more that Br’er Rabbit fought the Tar-baby, the more entangled he became.  So then, that was the case with me and the topic of Truth.

    In the not so distant past of the Western world, society relied on the premise that truth, the big T had a correspondence to fact, or evidence, existing in the real world.  If you could prove a fact, so it would go, it was considered to be proven to be absolutely true.  But some disagreed with that formula, and one was the German Philosopher Ludwig Josef Johann Wittgenstein (26 April 1889-29 April 1951).

   Not to do any disservice to his complete thesis I suggest reading his work On Certainty, at http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/wittgenstein03.htm.  In effect, for my purposes, Wittgenstein made a profound observation that opened my eyes to another way of looking at truth.  You see, I had been schooled in the concept that there was an ultimate-no-kidding-absolute truth out there and it was the glue that kept all of the other supporting truths of our universal understanding in place; kind of like gravity.  But Wittgenstein took a different vista.  He addresses that society’s language was more like a game, and to derive meaning from any communication one must realize that it is a game of meaning. Along with that, one must be familiar with the references used to make a proposition a shared truth.

     From there it’s a step toward understanding that his premise was for truth to be understood we must have knowledge of what is being professed.  Truth was not so much about knowledge, but in showing (as in doing). Only then would certainty be revealed as truth.  Knowledge, he posited, always included doubt.  So to turn a phrase, when you doubt, you seek knowledge, but that will only dispel some doubt while at the same time introduce more doubt.  With truth in particular, we learn it by living.  In that way we are certain without having to resort to being told what a truth is, or what it is not.  In effect, Wittgenstein offered us a point of view about truth that was fresh.  He, in effect, said that truth was subjective to the context of the language it is presented.

   The example he used was one introduced in an essay by fellow philosopher G.E. Moore where he, (Moore) labored to refute skepticism.  Moore submitted that some beliefs about the world are absolutely certain and those are beliefs were common sense.  He used the argument of saying “I know this is my arm” as absolute proof of an inarguable truth.  Wittgenstein demonstrated that adding ‘I know” did not add or subtract from the truth of the arm belonging to the one claiming it.  Wittgenstein’s truth was one of self evidence and that the certainty was in the living proof, so then, subjective.

   Whew, that was like running class five rapids.  What does all of that stuff there mean?  OK…

  What I wished to convey is my understanding of truth being something that isn’t learned through lining up facts.  Those are employed to reduce possibilities of doubts.  Yet, that process introduces more doubts than were present, (or necessary), because every fact is made suspect to being false as well and only obscures the initial effort to make certain a proposition of truth.  Truth is certain when it cannot be exhaustively proven by fact but rather is known by having life experience that tells you a proposition is true.  “I am here”  “I breath”  “I love.”  These are shown, and resist a scientific qualification of words to prove.  Most important, what makes any proposition true or false then, in the language game, are mixed into the context of how a proposition is used. “This is my body” can be accepted as a true certainty under normal living circumstances without debate.  There are situations where that could be proven false but would require alternating a host of supporting propositions such as you are no slave, there is no combat cutting off limbs and people claiming trophies, et al.  In closing, I would like to add that I’ve accomplished my task of revisiting phrases I used in my prior post.  The ultimate effort to deem anything as being true or false is subject to my point of reference, and yes, my choice.  Just as it is in the real world you and I share.  The challenge and thrill of that liberty is the real power it presents right into each of our laps.

Defensive Empty Protest as Not Always

I’ve addressed this indirectly before, but it merits revisiting.  Ever been in a discussion or debate on a topic, and the other party responses to your position with, ‘but not always’?

     I find that infuriating, right up there with ‘it is what it is’.  Of course no situation ever repeats itself exactly the same way all of the time, just as no concept is perfect and encompasses all things, as life demonstrates; it is just so self-evident a blinding flash of the obvious that it’s painful to respond. I would so much rather just a moment of fresh, spontaneous honesty. Something like, “you know I’m finished talking about this”.  Sure as shooting we all have the right to our opinions, even those ill-informed ones.  Yet, some continue to engage when they’ve little interest in informing or educating one another on the finer points of a topic; even when it is obvious that neither one is qualify as an ‘expert’ in a field of discussion.  No, they want to be right; even at the cost of resorting to meaningless propositions.  So then, why bother? 

    Like all great meatloaf recipes, there are many contributing ingredients.  In the forefront is a rather simple formula that goes:  We draw meaning from our experience and so we equate our truth to mean good, and everything that does not agree as bad.  So, we have a personal investment in proving our opinions as right. 

  I’ve mentioned social dissonance before, but that body guard for the constructed self, (our ego) is the culprit….again.  And it has a very profoundly simple work ethic.  When something conflicts with what is believed as right (as in the above), then the objection is either (1) dismissed as untrue, unimportant, irrelevant to the world as it is known (and worse, the person who thinks that does not deserve respect either), or (2) is ignored entirely as pure fabricated fantasy to trip you up by a jealous and petty competitor, (who does not deserve respect). Then lastly, (3) on the outrageous possibility that just maybe some of what is being told that conflicts with what you are certain is true, but somehow through magic or mysticism happens to become true, in another reality perhaps, some day, then you’ll spend time later considering modifying your  understanding on your complete and absolute comprehension of the topic at hand (even if you’re sure doing so will only prove you are right and that the other person has needlessly scared you and so doesn’t deserve any respect what-so-ever). In so many words, retreat, delay, and save face from the unknown because it might hold scary things you really prefer to not  know anything about.

   On the path of maturation we all discovery sooner or later that we rely on other people for a host of things.  Services that we cannot perform for ourselves; or tricks and techniques we can learn and use to obtain other things we want.  We realize we need them; and in that moment we also realize that we have to figure out ways to keep them friendly (helpful) to our cause, (us)…the continued success of self.

    So this is a two pronged enlightenment. (1) we realize we are inadequate to provide for our every need. (2) We must develop skills of cooperation with those who can help us.  Now the really sad part of the first conclusion is that we are so very prone to assess ignorance as inferiority.  And that really is an unfortunate assessment left unchecked.  Because it invites insecurity and low self assessment that leads to worthiness and deserving issues and before you know it everything is going awry and there’s a very messed up human being electing to be inauthentic in order to hid from punishment.  This fear paves the way to violate who they are for the sake of being accepted and approved of.   There’s a saying that goes:  “The psychological need to believe that others take you as seriously as you take yourself has no particular negative aspect; as psychological needs go. But we should always remember that having a deep need for anything from other people makes us easy pickings”  When we practice compromising who we actually are, we are on that slippery slope of ever seeking someone to tell us what to do, how to do it, and the worst of it is, remaining fearful  if subjective expectations are not met.  As if that isn’t sad enough, we then convince ourselves that doing so is reasonable and defend the practice.  From there on in, we’re too busy guarding our masquerade with empty meaningless epitaphs that challenges facts in order to keep our sacred and sanctified belief of knowing what the truth is, in all things, and always.  And some say there is no hell.

Subject Orientation

Let’s see if I can keep this to under a thousand words.  I believe I have mentioned earlier the observation that our five senses deliver a billion bits of information a second.  Our brains, at best, can only consciously process about four million a second.   So our conscious thinking is at a serious disadvantage in the real-time existence of being in the here-and-now. 

   So then, in an evolutionary developed effort to cope, the brain makes value choices.  It does this by creating assumptions about repetition.  With those, it creates cognitive short cuts, habits, when it becomes convinced that certain activities are redundant in effort; take for instance tying your shoes.  Initially, when each of us learned that technique, we needed to focus intently and spend a lot of time manipulating the shoelaces in a manner to make a proper bow.  As we grew more successful in accomplishing that task, we focused on other things while we went through the routine of tying. Now we’re busy with internal dialog and walking daily rituals in our head while we go through that task.  We learned to not pay attention to that effort.  We’re familiar with the term habit, and that’s pretty much it in a nutshell. 

   According to John Dewey (October 20, 1859 – June 1 1952) we primarily live between the extreme of habits and impulses.  We follow habits unthinking until something unexpected happen. When that occurs we respond (to that impulse to pay attention to what has changed from the predictable routine) when we do, create a new habit, (short cut if you will) to resolve the change in our world.  In this way, it’s easy to see how we are adaptive to our environment as well as being rather cleverly efficient and economical with our cognitive energy.   We make assumptions and we venture forward with confidence in our knowing, in the belief, that we are correct in our prescribe course of action to meet our needs.

  But here’s the catch.  There are hundreds of hidden assumptions, things we take for granted, every day, that may or may not be true. Of course, in the vast majority of cases, historically speaking, these things aren’t true.  So if experience is any guide, much about what we take for granted concerning the world around us simply isn’t true.  But we’re locked into these precepts without even knowing it oftentimes.  How did this come about?  I mean besides an effort to cope with being overwhelmed by the active universe?  

Our orientation is self-centered.  As I’ve mentioned in earlier post, ‘every experience any of us has ever had centered on us.’  We are automatically sure of what reality is – and that is self centered.  Because of that not being the case, every time we don’t get what we wish, we automatically feel that the world at large is resisting us, so we respond with effort, force even, against any obstacle that keeps us from our goal.  It is often said that we get an education in order to learn how to think.  But really, it isn’t thinking that needs to be taught. More to the point, it is what to think about that really matters.  And if we’re in error about the nature of the world, where it serves our being only, what is needed then is some liberation from a self centered orientation.  The really important kind of freedom we can obtain and cultivate involves attention, awareness and discipline.  Discipline from defaulting to an initial subjective orientation of ‘it is all about me’.

A Point in Time

I recognize that I’m nearing a point with this blog where I can commemorate a passage through a time threshold: The first month of life.  As a parent I can easily recall the first month of having my son in the house.  No matter the mental or physical preparations that were made for his arrival, when the date arrived; it was just different. 

   Saying that, I acknowledge every-single-event I have ever had in my life falls into the very same assessment.  “It’s just different than what I thought”. Being a fan of David Foster Wallace, I will gladly give him credit for highlighting for my awareness the notion of a default self-centered orientation. Most of us use this very same perspective to define and refine our passage in this shared physical existence.  Even if the concept has been echoed many times and in many ways throughout my visitation into psychology, philosophy and poetry, his was the most personal rendition I embraced.

  “No experience you’ve ever had did not center on you”

   If you are not familiar with his name, then I encourage you to Google it and become familiar with his elegant and compelling understanding of ‘where we come from’ in order for a shared delight into this continued journey of discovery into where it is we are going (individually and collectively).  

   The point of bringing this up was to acknowledge that I made reference in past post to ‘come back to visit’ some concepts that I kept short due to a desire to maintain brevity. I promised to come back and explore more deeply.  So I’ll dedicate the next few days of this waning month towards addressing those very topics I mentioned to the depth I initially desired when I brought them up. In Not Working I mentioned the practice of responding to facts in the defiant ‘not always’ context as well as the topic of subject of orientation.  I also mentioned defensive empty protest as well as what is truth, and what is false. Why? Why bother to cross those T’s and dot those I’s? Perhaps this kindled desire for personal integrity.

  I am vividly aware that when we use words…vocabulary, they travel on a continuum of clarity.  Some words are rather unambiguous while others, because they have several meanings, can lead to obscuration.  So I am prone to slow down and study the use of words, and in particular words that may lean towards being taken for granted as knowing ‘with certainty’ that everyone is in agreement.  Imagine the surprise and alarm when we discover nothing is further from the fact?  In its most simplistic form Integrity is most often defined as adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.  Lesser used, but for me more definitive for self, are the others; the state of being whole (oh baby); entire (yes, the complete individual); or undiminished (oh the compromises we make to grab at acceptance).  The sound, unimpaired (clearly the unified harmonious being) or perfect condition (not in the absolute notion of what perfection may or may not be, but the state of calm that exist in the best of conditions).  THESE are the quality of integrity that an individual should be intimately familiar with.  Abiding to moral or ethical standards has its benefits when framed within society; and in being cooperative and conformed with those values makes for a smoother integration of the self into the bigger crowd of ‘us’.  I will add Integrity to the topics I’ll come back to.

The Greater Me

   One of the many pearls I picked up during my exploration into the field of psychology was the concept of Cognitive dissonance. The term was coined by Leon Festinger in his 1956 book When Prophecy Fails, as he chronicled the followers of a UFO cult as reality clashed with their fervent belief in an impending apocalypse. The short version is:  dissonance occurs when we hold conflicting ideas, beliefs, or are faced with inconsistent values or emotions.  The theory proposes that people are motivated to reduce this ‘distress’ by either altering existing cognitions (I’ll say attitudes), adding new ones to create a consistent belief system, or alternatively reduce the importance of one of the conflicting elements.  An example given during my studies was that of smoking.  A smoker wants to smoke, knows it’s unhealthy but then argues the negative consequences are remote, or won’t occur.  Yes, some would call that a state of denial.  The key reason for bringing this up is that the dissonance theory warns that people have a bias toward consonance in cognitions. 

   According to Festinger, we engage in a process he called ‘dissonance reduction’ and said it could be achieved in one of three ways: (1) lowering the importance of one of the discordant factors; (2) adding consonant elements (as in agreements), or (3) changing one of the dissonant factors (as in importance).  The desire or bias of this disposition sheds light on why we so often see irrational and even destructive behaviors by those we care for in the face of facts that are undeniable (most times about dating, but there are a host of others).  I’ve often scratched my head muttering to myself, ‘how could someone who is rather bright in ordinary situations be so blind to the overwhelming evidence contrary to their stance?”.  

   I recall reading a profound observation by Marianne Willamson when she was speaking on the values represented in A Course on Miracles.

“Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."- Marianne Williamson,

   A good friend of mine recently considered my speculations on how was it we were able to accomplish all of the self assigned tasks and not go crazy?   She replied,

  "We are able to take on more than we could have ever imagined.  And it is my knowledge of that ability that restores my faith every time I second guess myself and think I can't do something."
  Something else too.  I can liberate myself from pervasive recrimination.  ON those occasions when I fail to abide to strict, inflexible adherence to a demand-contrived schedule for deliverance and I am in conflict with desires, (dissonance) I am alert to those competing contradictions framed in 'time'.  I let me off the hook with the phrase 'for now.' I cannot do all of what I wish at one time.  I can do some, or even one...right now.  As for the rest?  I'll see about it.

Make Believe

Yes it's uncomfortable, even annoying, to watch usurpers and power hungry people do their manipulation and deception. Yet, I've come to appreciate every obstacle and challenge can serve an ultimate goal to live well.

   We grow stronger in our appreciation for the goodness in our lives by the contrast of seeing hateful and selfish behavior; soon as we get past our emotional upset that the world is not cooperating with our wishes.

We can improve our expression of gratitude to those we care about in the wake of all the corruption and abuse that is reported by those who would have us live afraid. These are good attributes, and like it or not, this is how they encourage and fostered our care and loving towards what we value.  The point of choice is to not despair or resign to those who would not embrace integrity as a course of action.  Who would instead, insist that we surrender to their interpretation of seeking safety from ill-defined dire possibilities.

   That's positive growth in my book. I consider myself fortunate to trust those I invest my daily care into.  I am encouraged by their interest and their involvement.  I learn with and through their examples and their advice.  They never demand I follow their way, so I am calm to discern what it is that is best from my viewpoint.

   When we cannot give reason or a purpose for continuing, then inertia is the only plausible alternative. If we are not trying then we have quit.  How sad to die while still breathing. Finding passion in ones existences is the only lasting purpose there is in our collective journey.

   "Oh my, I'm not where I can see the garden. All around me is just an expansive jungle.” This is exactly the time to recalculate and gain your bearings: With an explorer’s sense of adventure, consider the unexplored options.. We exist to create...so now...visit that palate and use bright colors.  Find something better to be inspired by, than obtaining an elusive notion of permanent safety.

I say, yes...make believe

Only Joking

A woman goes to see a psychologist. He asks,

"What seems to be your problem?"

She stammers, "I think I might be a nymphomaniac"

"I see" said the doctor, "I can help you, but I must advise you, my fee is $120 an hour."

She replied, "That's not too bad, how much for all night?"

The humor is wrapped up in the unexpected irony, supported sublimely by the absurd. The art imbued in joking is of course, that they make us laugh. And who doesn't like to laugh? I had read where the three pillars to humor are those very three ingredients: the unexpected, irony and the absurd.

   Combine them, or use only one, and you've a joke. Puns, considered the lowest form of humor rely mostly on the absurd similarities of words conjectured in a way to change meaning. Slapstick also uses absurd situations along with the physical unexpected to deliver those belly laughs. My favorite, by far, is the element of the unexpected. Often as not the unexpected does not require cues, if it did then I guess we wouldn’t call it , um, unexpected.  Such is the case in a well-told Doctor joke:

The doctor tells his patient, "I think you have cancer" and the patient, angry with the diagnosis replies, "I want a second opinion" in which the doctor says, "OK, I think you're ugly too"

Now that was unexpected, I laugh at it still, (and that's me knowing the punch line, committing it to memory and writing it). This was a good example of the formula: an unexpected response in a common situation with a play on words, or irony, coupled by the absurdity of a doctor doing such a thing in a serious situation.

   That led me to the whole idea of serious and why we are often so aching for comic relief from our everyday lives? I'm undone, by my search to find the author who wrote "Humor is without terror, and terror is without humor" but suffice I get the point. When I am laughing, I have no worries, no concerns.  Conversely, when I'm afraid nothing can dissolve my fright or obsession with avoiding or getting away. Now I could get into the depths of why we human beings choose to worry and what personal need that services, but that'd take more than the space of a blog posting.  That, and frankly...it's not in the least bit funny.

So I'll end my morning observation with a humorous observation:

"Everybody is wrong about everything, just about all the time" ~ Chuck Klosterman

I guess.....One might conclude, the joke’s on us.

Southern Way

Now I'll admit, I get sucked into blog comments resulting from ridiculous reports on obscure topics. 

In this case, the Red Hot Chili Peppers suing a TV show for using Californication. 

Well, I promised myself not to get into the competing salvos of traded insults. 

Suffice to say I was reminded why I cringe at posting any comments on some topics.  Opinions are expression of personal freedom. We don't have to meet any litmus test for being right in order to have one. I’ll reserve the condition of well thought out opinion as an ultimate goal. Instead acquiesce to the more common practice of an opinion not having to be logical, or even reasonable; never mind acceptable to other people. I will utter instead whispered private Thank Heavens. 

I've discovered that in the South, the culture is more sublime; they've learned to deal with outright stupidity and still be polite. 

"Bless their hearts" covers a host of missteps.  

Seems so superior to being threatened to beatings, told your sexual preferences are suspect, or that your hygiene demands ridicule. Today, tolerance has taken an all time back seat to outrage. As it appears not to be about any belief that really needs any sort of defending. Now that I've mentioned it, seem in fact, the more obtuse a topic can be; the more I read outrageous claims of some sort of affront. 

I've committed way more time to this then my initial reaction. I know I've other pressing matters that do indeed require my full attention.  I recall a wise old platitude that said our concerns were like an archery target.  The different colored rings really didn’t matter as much as the bulls-eye; the silver-dollar-size red circle.  THAT represented what we could affect, what was in our power to control and make a difference.  The rest of the target was just degrees of concern, but actually we didn’t have any power to influence.  I found that reference profound, knowing as I do, how difficult it is to hit a bulls-eye.  So for all the effort at spending precious time (arrows in this case) at arguing where they hit, what mattered was only those that hit the bulls-eye.  Everything else is just missing the mark. Which just so happens to be a term we’re all familiar with as well

‘sin’.

For whatever prompts a complaint, I suspect it's an effort to control an otherwise out of control situation.  So I’m most prone these days towards responding to such behavior with a well worn southern way.

Bless their heart  

Waking Up

I woke up this morning and all of my stuff had been stolen and replaced by exact duplicates." Steven Wright.

Since its strikes me as significant that the only law that continues to have unending effect in all of our lives, performing without exception, is change.  Wouldn't it make sense that when we wake up, everything has changed?  But, but, but what about everything around me?  My situation?  Nothing has really changed that I can see.  A Momento Mori (wake up call) 

Ah,
what can be seen? 

It's been shown that our vision is a function of sensory input striking light sensitive nerve endings on the optic nerve that then travel to the brain...never to be seen again, (rim shot).  Point being, we interpret what our senses experience.

We then attempt to make sense by comparing and contrasting what we have experienced, what we know as it were, by current events.  Nothing happens the same way twice, (in that snowflake sort of reasoning).

So then

Are we conditioned to be unconsciously recreating our situations in hopes of understanding the present situation by dredging up past ones? All along wishing for different results? 

   Albert Einstein said that's the definition of insanity...or was it that continuing to ask for someone at a crowded Thanksgiving table to pass the salt was insane?  Albert, as with all Albert's, tended to be a rather impatient, easily annoyed, and odd social fellow don't you know.

Dare to be Mad

I have been going into the bowels of my past writing.  Years of poetry, short stories, essays and books started but languishing for attention.  I read snippets and can regain my conviction. Oh the flavor of my misguided flares into the passionately flamboyant fire.  Being in love with love, I took no prisoners.  I read, and on occasion cringe to think of me being so exposed, so naked on purpose.  Who should reads these rantings and not run away?  Who would not fall in love with the freedom to be totally mad while howling at the moon?  Dance in the foaming surf like a possessed Prophet.  "Would that being an artist protect one from institutionalization"

He can't be mad because he is shrewd?  Isn't that the maddest of statements yet? Genius to be different. 

Or just ....

An individual.

Where did Da Vinci really go?  To the limits of our understanding?  Or just the brink of our fear to recollect?  We say he was great, but no one adds buggery to his list of accomplishment.

We are cowards in love.  We don't dare open up to the full flavor of it.  We get tipsy on the thimble we dare sample, then get jealous with fear of loosing our portion.  The sun dries it from our reconnoitering...we age and don't even realize what season we're in.  I marvel at the freedom of a century ago. To suddenly realize you can't recall your age.  What a surprise to be 'right now'

    I look at the mess I've created. I pale at the aspect of the labor involved with labeling and placing them in a drawer so I can test my memory of where I put things.  As if a cruel necromancer was generating fireflies with little blinking numbers on their tiny bottoms.  I being assigned the responsibility for adding their sums.  "I can't make that out, is that a five or six?" Oh and my anguish when I would be told that my math didn't match someone else's matriculation....never really knowing whose at fault; it didn't really matter.  Once more tasked to chase down those high-jacked into the insect bars along the boulevard.  "Out with you out out out, stop necking in the corner and sound off with your number" the drunken hoard would bellow in raucous unison their numbers too fast and muddled for my scribbling fingers to capture on notepad page.  The dirty yellow light of the cantina's marquee provides me intermittent blinking light as it announces its namesake, "Raidaway" a spoof on mans design to control their numbers.  Toxin to the ill advised...don't make any reference to leaving as bugging out.

They don't take kindly to that kind of talk....and you'll not get the numbers right Then no lemon meringue pie for you tonight bucko.

What I Ought

It was a clear case of "I ought"

Seeing the open back door to my neighbors house next to us I mean; I ought to do something.  My wife had mentioned it being open to me, being as she is ever observant to changes going on around us, it is her talent.

Me, I wait until the elephant wearing a tutu has burst into flames before I mention something odd is going on; not that I was totally oblivious this time.

So when she told me their back door was left open, I sauntered out into our yard examining the flora and looking in the general direction of the house; smooth huh? Yet, I suspect the binoculars around my neck totally gave my stealth away, I don't know, I'm still chewing on that notion.

But I did see the back door was in fact, open. I started making mental list of why that might be.

   "They could have moved out and just didn't give a crap about leaving things closed"

Counter voice:  "Yeah, but look, the garden hose is still there and the garbage can is still there"

Counter-counter-voice:  "Just because people leave yard stuff doesn't mean they haven't dashed"

Counter voice: "Well then get closer and see if you can look into the open house"

Wife: "Who the HELL are you talking to?"

Ahem

   So I walked up to the deck and sure enough, it's darker than any hole in Calcutta could be. Why Calcutta is the standard for dark holes I couldn't tell ya.  But I couldn’t see a thing.  I was persuaded to go around the house and knock on the front door. My wife wanted to know what I was doing every step I took past the deck.

"I'm going to knock on the door" I told her.

"Look in the garage first, to see if there’s a car" (this she loudly whispered from her safe distance behind the stacked sand bags she hastily constructed on the knoll of our yard; she's so cute that way…industry mixed with paranoia.)

   So I followed the sagely advice and looked into the garage door windows.  There wasn't a car, but there was stuff that people might leave in hast, you know; home gym crap, large plastic container, grandma. Well, no not grandma.  I knocked on the door, then rang the bell, then tossed a few softball size stones against the door, you know the usual subtle things. Nada.  So we called the police, explained that I THOUGHT there was a break in. Was questioned about the address, and then who did I think I was to be a conscious citizen, and was I brewing Meth and trying to throw their undercover agents off the tracks? The usual....not really, but this story has no redeeming drama so I wanted to surprise you the reader so maybe you'd feel you've invested time into a worthy endeavor. Forget it, this is going nowhere fast.  The police responded rather quickly and after ringing the door bell, I opened our door and greeted the officer. He had been dispatched to investigate a break in at our address. (Love clear directions don't you?) I set him straight, he went next door to take a look.  I asked him if he wanted me to wait outside with my baseball bat toting wife?  You know in case he needed help? He eyeballed my wife with her white knuckled grip on the bat and wisely declined the offer.  I shooed my wife back into the garage, to put away the weapon,  and to start dismantling the bunker before the homeowners association came by and cited us for violating the covenants (again).  We found out bunkers in the front yard were on the official can't build list...who'd a thunk?

   Anyway, three cruisers and SWAT team later the city's finest approached the house in the usual oblique manner. Bum rush ever entrance and crash through any window that were NOT opened.

OK...reality check...there were three cruisers, and they were so polite to let the female cop stand in the front yard waiting for the flushed prey to cross her path where she and my wife could beat the crap out of any perpetrator....yes, my wife had crept back with her blunt object of authority.

   But the SWAT team wasn't dispatched, the Dunkin Donut's shop down the street had just put out a fresh batch, and for some inexplicable reason no one would respond to repeated radio request. Go fig.

My wife had that "I have a great idea" look flash across her fact, dropped her Louisville slugger, and sprinted up our front door steps then into the house. Seeing this, I readily followed.  Besides, the view from the knoll didn't afford me a good position to watch anything except the bored female cop digging in her ear for a last dollop of ear wax. Since I was last into the house I didn't know where my wife had gone, so I called out to her. I heard her muffled reply, and what followed was a short version of playing Marco Polo. I found her in the laundry room peeking out the blinds. I joined her and we could watch the flashlight beams dart about next door, just like in the movies. I said so, and she shushed me, as if they could hear. Then she scolded me for putting my fingers on the blind, thinking that the cops inside another house, in the dark, would notice such a thing...hey, they're guys they need burning elephants to grab their attention.

It was a swell exciting show...but nothing else happened.

They came by our house when they finished their ‘investigation’ and told us that it didn't look like anything was taken.  The door was indeed kicked in, but they figured the alarm scared the burglar away...it sure annoyed them; that or they were pissed off that instead of joining the SWAT team with the fresh baked do nuts they had to search out a dark house with an alarm screaming in their ears.

And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Mantling

   When I was younger, way younger than today (and no this isn't a rendition of the Beatles tune HELP.)  I can recall the competition between my middle sister and myself.  We were all of eleven months apart, so it was more like dealing with a jealous twin.  That being what it may, I am sensitive to the possibility (which is another way of saying I suspect I am correct.) that I delay from the sake of mantling.

  
If you're unfamiliar with the term mantling, it is what crows, or any other predator birds do with their recent kills.  They hunch their shoulders and spread their wings over it. The adaptive rational for them doing that is base upon a pragmatics.  If you can keep other eyes from finding out what you have, you don't have to spend energy fighting to keep your bounty; you can have it all.  Tools we learn, are, after all, tools we learn.

   Now I have not taken a hammer to a screw in a very long time, but that doesn't mean to say I have not tried that approach somewhere in my past.  The idea is that I learn as quickly what does not work as what does.  But that is a harbored hope more than a proven correlation, I would venture to guess.

   So then....I mantle for the sake of greed. No, no, not that. I mantle for the sake of despair. Ah, that can be a target for dismantling. I fear...yes, don't we all? And as unreasonable as fear always is, I have my croaker-sack full.

   Croaker-sack is a burlap bag named thus because that is what you keep the frogs you catch in whenever you go about in the dark of night. You have to blind the frog with a flashlight see, then while evolution has taught them to freeze in circumstances of the unknown, you pluck them up. Unfortunately for them, we have learned to exploit that particular adaptation and use it against them; ergo, a sack full of frogs.

  It can be amusing to liken collecting fears to capturing vulnerable frogs, but I sense you'll get the idea that filling up the bag can be pretty effortless in both cases. I choose to not go into what you do with the frogs, (or fears for that matter) when you get home. Let us just leave it at saying there are some disabilities coming up.

ahem

   So my plans, and oh I enjoy making them, are to keep a specific small portion of self appointed tasks on a visible list; accessible, and ready, so I have something to keep me busy. All the while secretly keeping mountains of other interest tucked and hidden away, almost like a hoarder, for another day when I run out of things to keep me amused.

This has got to change...as it is changing...just as writing about it is akin to aiming a high beam flashlight on children playing under a blanket.

"What are you kids up to?"

like frogs on a dark moonless night of hunting....getting nabbed and placed into a croaker sack.

Would it really be wise to say playing doctor?

probably not

small voices utter, "Nuth-in"

too late.

Empty Boxes

I go to our local office supply store in order to obtain some empty boxes.  We are in the midst of renovation and my task is to get boxes so the lady of the house can take all of house warming decorations off the mantle, walls and tables and place them safely in the basement where the workmen won’t break them and the dust will not taint them. When I get to the store the manager tells me they recycle, so he has none to spare. As I was walking towards the exit he hollers that he's willing to sell me boxes.

I had one of those "I should tell him" moments we see used so successfully in movies, but I had other things to do so I decline my inner voice offering to pause and make a statement. You might say I didn't care enough to benefit him with the truth: I'm never buying anything from that store again. I've been a customer since they built it too; almost twenty years. All of that just ended.  It was his attitude that rubbed me. Sure, stores DO recycle to reduce their overheads, I get that. Just as I embrace the sound business practice of cutting overhead and cost, I salute any who address waste. It was his parting shot at trying to make a sale, any sale. He could have even faked a concern and say,

   "Oh let me go check."

Maybe even give me a box or two out of consideration for my plight. I mean really, how much would that have on his profit margin? But he didn't, so I pledged to shop at their competitors; yes out of spite, the great American way. I then next drove to a local liquor store. One I used a lot in past years, but not so much as of lately. I asked the girl at the counter if I could have any empty boxes. She denied me saying she needed them for the weekend business. Then she mentioned,

   "You should come by on Wednesday or Thursday's when we get shipments." Well is that helpful now?  I thanked her, then while exiting I noticed a wall of empty liquor boxes nearly to the ceiling; they must be expecting a brisk weekend for sure. Would two or three boxes out of just good customer relations really have put them in a bind? As I got into my car I realized, no they are just not trained to be receptive to good customer relations. I remember working with a smart-aleck fellow worker years ago when I was in high school, one of those menial labor jobs that are easily filled with untrained kids.  He use to say,

   "They don't pay me enough to care” I believe he was fired nearly the same week he told me that. My wife and I had gone to a vacuum cleaner store the other day to restock on vacuum cleaner bags.  Her vacuum is a scientific marvel that can only use a version of bags designed, fabricated, and hand sewn by mute nuns cloistered in a Convent hidden in the crannies of the Swiss Alps. They are nearly as expensive as purchasing an American made vacuum, or an Xbox. The owner of the shop is a real talker. He visited the topic of workers and mentioned he couldn't get any good ones;

   “…the kind that show up on time and put in an eight hour day...You just can’t find them.  Plus, they refuse to learn how to do it right" He wasn't convinced that the unemployment in this country was because retailers didn't have work. He said people don't work because they don't want to learn how to do something.

   "They don't want responsibility or real work. They want to be a receptionist or someone who doesn't have to do anything demanding. Then they grumble and drag their feet on every task because they feel abused and affronted that they are not paid a lot for nothing". Yeah, a lot for nothing.
   I continued to look for boxes. I resorted to one of those bargain basement discount stores, a place I readily will admit I avoided because I felt the quality of products were beneath my standards.  But I was empty handed and needed to find boxes.  To my surprise, the people there were happy to help when I asked for boxes.  I could see by their attire they were not the self-congratulating, upperly-mobile types working the high end anchor boutiques at the mall.  They didn't look to be even of the lower-middle class.  They were dressed as those who just got by.  I know that attire because when I was a musician I dressed like that too; making ends meet uniform.  I passed a young woman coming out of the store and rendered my morning greetings to her out of habit.  She instantly responded in kind with an engaging 'good morning' back, along with a great smile.  It dawned on me that people who are comfortable don't seem to be concerned with being nice.  I would also say those who are in the struggling zone of living, those who have little to spare, are the ones most ready to reciprocate to kindness.  They are the one's willing to share with a stranger.  I told my wife about my adventure.  She mentioned that she too found the happiest people she ever met were the ones with meager resources.  I got my boxes from that store, so I fulfilled my immediate mission.  But I had to admit, I didn't come back from there with anything remotely like empty.

   

Broken Chair

In the upstairs hallway of the Art’s building, at the alcove leading towards the professor’s office suit, there is a chair with a hand written message, “broken chair”, taped to its cloth cushioned back. I notice it had been sitting in the very same spot for a couple of months now. It’s difficult to ignore; it’s right next to the entrance to the mens room door.  I wondered how long before the maintenance crew would take it away?  The broken chair sat silent, as a statue to neglected necessity which quietly fades into its general surroundings.  Referencing its appearance from “Who broke the chair?” to “Whose chair is that?” finally, and ultimately, the state of permanence is obtained when used as a reference point; “…go past the broken chair, then take an immediate right; my office is the second one down from there.” 

   I use to ignore that broken chair.  Then, I began to notice its presence more whenever I stopped by the restroom between classes.  I suddenly realized that I started counting down the number of class meetings I had remaining in the semester by how often I passed that broken chair; a silent witness to my investment towards a degree.  Or could it be my quickening to awareness of the details in my situation?  I am certain no one placed it there to remain there as its assigned place, with its rough scribbled notice, as an intentional caution as well as a basic statement of truth.  It would be so cool to consider it as an art project.  Where some genius from the Andy Warhol school of social art had set it all up as a commentary about broken expectations languishing in the hallways of the intellectual highway in scholarly ambition.  That’d be so out of the predictability inculcated into the rhythm of university pace; way too deep for my psychology friends to consider as possible, and way too obscure for my philosophy buds to embrace as authentically plausible.  Somewhere in-between I guess.  A student mother rushes by with her five year old in tow; scurrying little legs labored to keep up with her mother’s frantic pace.  The child looked at the chair, and pointed in the direction of the unexpected; noticing me watching, she smiled; then laughed.  As if she had solved an oblique riddle.

Fierce

I was reading about John Lennon

Rolling Stone magazine was going to post a forgotten interview they had with him. It was conducted just days before his assassination.

The cover depicts John at 40.

He looked fierce.

He was all about Peace; he said so, he showed us it was his theme.

I've no reservation in believing him; he took too much crap to be anything but the real article; peace loving ~ with dignity.

I wondered if a person could be peace loving and fierce.

Could fury hold peace in it’s heart?

I doubted that.

Then again, isn't nature's way to coddle the fawn?

Then erupt with volcanic lava that burns everything in its downward path?

Spewing ash that suffocates those very vulnerable soft and innocent creatures?

Is the lesson one of inconsistency in life?

Weather would be that unrefined wild fury of an example; brutal perhaps, for any soul longing for predictability in life.

No one would have suspected that John Lennon, of all people, would suffer such a violent end; certainly not John.  He was, after all, a man of peace.

Was his fierce spirit destine to draw contrast?

Then within that conflict be consumed? 

Is the sum from such a struggle for supremacy the lingering remaining dross of mediocrity?

One that shy's from confrontation; doesn't decry; doesn't' resist,

But services in the long run by producing promise in the shape of another generation of idealist? 

They would become the vanguard that concludes safety is not the  goal in living.

Since they had been protected from threat, they possessed courage to try to make things better for everyone?

Whose hero’s happen to be men like John Lennon?

I can only hope so.

What We Learn to Forget

The University I attended, that will remain nameless due to concerns over retributive legal action should they deem my orienting reference as in some way defamatory, has a mandatory senior's symposium. There are no academic credits for attending, as in, we don't get graded or hourly credits towards the completion of our degree program.  We do have the benefit of living through an exposure to an application of the golden rule; whereby, the one who has the gold makes the rules.

   Part of this symposium included taking a test at the end-of-degree-pursuits. You know, to find out how well all of that knowledge stuck. I'm here to tell you...it didn't. Perhaps it was designed to test our ability to guess? If so, then from my test results one can conclude that I am upper-average to good at guessing; plus or minus seven points to the raw performance score. Yes, they asked statistical questions, which reminded me of those annoying grade school word-fraction-problems I had all become enthralled with over the years. "If-Then" questions always prompted from my reasoning a vivid "It depends" answer to it.  What was frustrating, in all those years I faced questions like those, I never got it depends as a choice; I was bummed.

Now the down side of all of that was the insidious corruption to my usual calm based on competence. After the test, way afterwards, as in the late hours of the night, (or early hours of the morning) I would be asking myself what IS the answer to one of those questions? I had no idea. I realize that I will never be stopped on a street, then while giving directions to points of interest find it necessary to be prepared for a follow on question such as "Oh yes, and by the way what's a chi tailed test?"  Not even in a job interview could I conceive anyone tossing that one up for me to take a swing at.

I mean really. I can see me in the future; an ocean liner listing towards the sea having just struck a reef.  The main dining room filling with billows of oily black smoke. I'm in a crowd of panic stricken people all frantically trying to escape; what to say?

   "Oh you know I think if I had a serotonin reuptake blocker I'd not be freaking out and crapping my pants right now. Does anyone happen to have any on them?" Hell I'd toss such a goof to the sharks first thing. So yeah, useful knowledge is often the gooey caramel center of the chocolate candy students are forced to memorized; facts all for the sake of scholastic discipline.

   "You don't need this, but it was swell making you dance to the pistol fire.  And you kept your dignity and didn’t break down crying, that’s good, that’s very good." I was prompted by the last questions on the computer I was testing on, If I had difficulty with understanding the format of the test? Was it difficult to navigate the tools of the instrument? I wasn't concerned with those facets in the least, and readily replied they were not difficult. When prodded by the follow on question,

   "Do you think this test adequately evaluated your degree pursuits" I considered to intentionally misspelling NO.  It outfoxed me with allowing only a bubble to fill in. YES/NO.  Black as the heart of my rebellious sense of humor, I was denied my intellectual spite. But hey, they brought brownies for the post test celebration, so it wasn't a complete wash