The Small Stuff to Sweat

The Ant made its way across

the concrete.

I didn’t want to step on it.

I hate stepping on ants when

they are outside doing their

Ant thing.

It seems wrong to absently or

accidentally end their

little worlds just because I

wasn’t watching where I was going.

It seems so in-compassionate.

There’s the Ant, just going along,

working for the rest of the colony,

and suddenly, WHAM, stepped on

and up to Ant heaven to be judged

at the pearly Ant Hill by Ant St. Peter.

I always seem to notice the Ants

as I walk and I really don’t want

to step on them. I want them to go

on and do what they have to do,

just like I don’t want to get stomped.

I think I developed this compassion,

after the early days of playing with

a magnifying glass and being the

unholy tormentor of those poor

hapless Ants. It was shameful.

My religion probably added to my

feelings for the Ant, since there are

times that we all feel like mere Ants

on this big ball of dirt in a vast

and scary void of space.  

I try and avoid the Ants in their

domain. They deserve their existence

just like I think I deserve mine. Unfettered,

un-squashed, unmolested by soles.

Just trying to make it to the other side

of the sidewalk, on another summer

day. 

Go Go Go Political Discourse!!!

                So politics, yeah, why not?  I love an intelligent conversation about the pressing issues of our modern age. It thrills me to engage in fluid conversations about the politics and policies of American  government. It’s just so bad-ass. I mean it is. I love it when I get to talk to people that are really passionate about their well-grounded and informed opinions. It’s just amazing to watch the fire in their eyes dance about as they discuss the issues that really matter to them and what they hope can be achieved through coherent political debate.

            Unfortunately I didn’t see much of that last night during the Republican Presidential Debates.  At least the Prime Time debate, I didn’t see the early debate with the candidates that didn’t make the cut for the big person stage. I did see a lot of ego run amok and a lot of single-mindedness from the “made the cut crew”. Perhaps single-mindedness isn’t the right term; I think myopic is probably apt.

             I worry about political belief structures founded in absolutes. I worry about potential leaders that allege to hear the voice of the people yet choose to ignore it because it may clash with their personal belief structure. As an elected official, in my opinion, you have to leave your personal beliefs at the door and take up the mantle of your constituents. You become the embodiment of the people as an elected official. Your own beliefs are irrelevant to the will of the majority of the people you represent.  

            This is not saying you should abandon your principals or ethics all together. You can hold fast against the lunatics that want to make the Easter Bunny an Alderman or Sheriff. You can tell the difference between a disastrous powder keg and a pony keg.  But you must give up your individuality as the voice for the collective that elected you to speak for them.  That is the essence of a representational government in a Republic. You are part of the Body Politic, not some outsider, looking in with your own political agenda.

            Last night’s first Republican debate made me wonder what world these men want to take us back to. I don’t know if they realize that the Eisenhower Era is over and has been for a long time. That was when the United States, post WWII, was providing 90% of the Worlds goods. The rest of the planet was essentially devastated by war. Of course the U.S. would be profitable! It was indeed a golden age of American prosperity, but those days are gone. Globalization is the future. We’re part of a larger picture now and not the central cog in the world’s machinery. I don’t think these candidates realize that. We can’t simply revert to a Pre-WWI mentality of Nationalism without Global involvement. We’re involved. We can’t go back in time and change it. I wouldn’t want to either. We’ve all seen what happens if we withdraw from the world thanks to such fine films like Escape from New York and Escape from L. A.

 God doesn’t care who is President. Seriously, an omnipotent being from the ethereal fog cares who is driving the wheel of America? He has as much interest in who is in charge of the U.S. much like we have as much interest in which Ant is going to be queen.  I suggest we leave the Lord out of politics as much as possible. I’m a firm believer in the Separation of Church and State. I consider it one of the most important parts of our Government. No religion can claim any dominance over the American system thanks to that rule.

            Thomas Jefferson once wrote, in response to a request that Baptists be given the right to declare themselves as the Religion of the United States, said:

            “Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between Man & his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legitimate powers of government reach actions only, & not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should 'make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,' thus building a wall of separation between Church and State.”

In essence saying, keep your personal religious opinions at home, we’re not a nation of a single religion and will never make a law that says we are. So any politician that says that God guides his political moral compass or Religion is his guiding light toward government decisions or scares you into thinking that some “Evil Religion” is coming to get you, is not acting in the best interest of the American people with a diverse set of religious beliefs. I don’t let my personal religious beliefs guide or influence what I do at my job. I sit at my cube and make decisions based on logic and the facts at hand, without wondering what Jesus would do or what Scripture says.

Believe what you like, just leave it at home. (Whew, that was a bit… let me catch my breath…) I’m also skipping the blatant misogyny of the candidates last night. That’s too much!

I had hoped, as I always do, to hear the voice of sincere reason in at least one of the Republican candidates last night. I heard a lot of misdirection from facts, a lot of blame, a lot of issues regarding how terrible America is right now. I heard a lot about how this country is on a collision course with damnation, or epic financial collapse, or that we’re about to be over-run with the most vile of criminals and morally ambiguous transgender soldiers.   But I ride the train most days to work. I see all the people around me and I just don’t see it, this suspicion about the person next to me. It’s possible they believe in something I don’t and vice-versa, but it doesn’t stop the train from moving forward. We both have to get to work and try to provide for ourselves and do what we think is right for our community. I’m not afraid of them. I’m pretty sure they’re not afraid of me.

I had a conversation last Saturday with a young woman who is a hard-core Republican. I want to stress the word, “Conversation”. We sat and talked about the differences in our opinions and the conversation was pleasant, without wild accusations, without blame or insult. She listened to me and I listened to her. It only heightened the awareness that we all just want to feel secure in this boiling melting pot of the world. We both want to leave the world a little better than we found it, we just disagree on how to get there, but we could remain rational.

With a little hope, that short conversation in a bar on an early Saturday evening could be the seed of which a new openness to reason-ability and respect starts to emerge. I would hope that the candidates running for the Republican nomination can take a page from that and learn that not only are you a voice for your constituents, you’re also their ears. 

Throwback Thursday Cool

            This whole “Throwback Thursday” thing had me curious about what I had written for this particular date in the past and I found a blog I wrote from August the 4^th, 2011. A healthy four years ago. I found it particularly amusing since it’s titled, “I’m just not cool”.

            In four years I went from comparing myself to the super hip Lollapalooza crowds traveling on the Blue Line trains to realizing that I have less in common with them now than ever before. I think they were even cooler and more hip this year than four years ago.

 Whatever these kids want to be mad about or throw their arms up in the air and wave them like they just do not care is fine by me. I still have enough residual 1990’s angst that stirs me up from time to time. Well, maybe it’s still some residual Cold War anxiety on top of that. Of course the young kids attending the Lollapalooza shows can’t quite relate to the whole threat of nuclear annihilation of the 1980’s either so I guess we’re even.

I digress, what I mean to say is that I still don’t feel like I’m all that cool. Four long years have passed by and I’m no cooler than I was then. I mean, I am a bit more patient when I talk to complete morons, and am less bothered by the irrationality of others around me. However, I am quicker to judge and far more likely to be dismissive than I was four years ago. Is that cool? Is it possible at some point I will attain some level of “Cool Dude” status?

Maybe I judge more harshly now because of the whole, “Don’t waste my precious time. I only live so long and I don’t want to waste it listening to you talk about your affinity for basket weaving in the Congo,” thing.  I think that’s why people who repeat themselves several times while telling a story are also so very irritating now. I don’t have time to hear you repeat the same detail 27 times. You’ve ruined the story already. I need you to move the story along now. Get to the point. I can hear my skin cells dying while you blather on. I can’t handle the thought that I’ve wasted a 4^th of a second on your unimportant story detail. I can’t believe you read that whole thing due to its repetitive nature.    

See, I’m still so un-cool that I can barely keep the thread of this whole “not being cool” blog post together into a coherent written piece. I’m kind of all over the place, like your Grandfather on the golf course. I’m sure he’s all over the place, in the cart, on the greens, in the clubhouse bar, some random group of women’s table at dinner.

But see, that’s just it. Crazy Grandpa at the Golf course seems sort of cool and “I don’t give a crap” cool. If I did all that stuff, I’d just get told I’ve had too much to drink and perhaps I should leave the Home Depot. That is just not cool.

I don’t have any tattoos. I never got any. I didn’t think the meager selections of spider webs or Chicago flags with skulls or flames, or Ska kids dancing ever seemed right for me. Now I see the beard-o crowd, tatted up like there’s no tomorrow and I wonder if I missed that cool train. But I stayed true to myself, so that should be cool right? But does saying I stayed true to myself negate any coolness I might have accrued by staying true to myself? I don’t know any more now than I did four years ago; about the cool kids at least.

 I certainly have learned a lot about myself in that time. I’ve learned about my anxiety issues and my clinical depression. I’ve learned how to try and not let my frustrations get the better of me. I’ve learned that I have to let people go be who they want to be no matter how much it might hurt inside. I have grown enough to know that I can’t be greedy with any one’s time, because it is special. 

And maybe that’s what is cool now. Perhaps it’s just being okay with whatever the world decides to heave at you like so much projectile vomit. Maybe the benefit of age is the perspective it provides on those issues of our past, the angst of the 90’s and the anxieties of the 80’s. Coolness is growth. Growth is cool.

Maybe I am a little cooler. 

Poetry is the Thing

Poetry is the thing that tries

to describe all the noises

of the head and the heart

without being neurologic

or circulatory.

Poetry is the thing that makes

love seem more real, or less

real, or painful, or joyful, or

angry, or like a swift kick in

the bum.

Poetry is the thing that clears

some of the fog of war, of

disagreements, of

misunderstandings, of lost

thoughts.

Poetry is the thing that helps

explain why the questions are

there, why the answers are there,

where the answers might be and

where those answers vanished.

Poetry is the thing that greases

the wheel, shifts the gears,

turns the cog, sets the time,

sounds the bells and fuels

the engines.

Poetry is the thing that starts

fires in hearts, in souls, in eyes,

in kisses, in sex, in gentle touches

of comfort during a thunderstorm,

in the dark.

Poetry is the thing that melts

the hard, strengthens the weak,

shores up the wobbly, lifts the falling,

balances the unbalanced, and dries

cried-out tears.

Poetry is the thing that tries

to explain a musing, sore heart  and

make us remember the blood in

our veins can boil or cool.

Poetry is that thing.

 

The Passing Waves

                Dave stared at nothing. He wasn’t there. He was just a reflection in a convenience store window. He looked past his own blurry reflection and into the abyss of his thoughts. He was as intangible as his wavering specter-like shape in the glass. He was beyond existing but still there, mildly existing. Dave couldn’t figure it out. He felt fairly solid when he got out of bed. Now he felt like nothingness in a raging sea of other passing thoughts.

                “Excuse me,” said a young woman as she pushed past Dave.

                She had an un-amused tone in her voice and a severe anger to her walk. She nearly shoved Dave out of the way on the sidewalk. Dave was surprised that she was able to move him, since he wasn’t existing anymore. He turned around and looked down at his dress shoes, his black pants, belt, tucked in shirt and tie. He felt the collar of his shirt around his neck. He brushed his fingers through his thinning hair. He felt solid for a moment. He could feel the hard concrete under his feet. It means something but Dave just didn’t know what. 

                The crowded city moved around Dave as he stood in front of the convenience store. He felt more real, more connected than a moment ago, but he wasn’t sure he could actually move without simply vanishing through the trillions of atoms that make up the physical world.  The image of just melting through the fabric of the world haunted Dave.  He didn’t want to NOT exist. Yet he was having serious problems figuring out why he existed at all.

                A tractor trailer rumbled down the busy street. Dave could feel the heaviness of the truck as it drove by. It was steel and metal and thick. It was rusting in places and badly painted over in others. The tires were coarse looking through miles of wear. It was dusty and dirty. It was truly there. Dave stepped toward the curb. He didn’t melt into the pavement.  He took another step toward the street.

                “Watch it man! Damn,” cursed a passer-by.

                Dave had stepped right into the heart of the congested commuting people, forcing them to go around him, without actually seeing him. The tractor trailer made it to the corner at the near-by intersection and came to a stop. Dave stepped forward again and could smell the heavy diesel exhaust belching from the tractor and feel the grime of it in the air.

                “What the hell guy,” swore another commuter.

                Dave turned toward the city. He looked up at the glass and stone towers. He craned his neck up along the faces of the gray and black buildings. He looked past them, up into the blue summer sky. He let his mind drift up with his gaze. He heard the noise of the street start to fade. He felt the wind peck his cheeks. He felt the warmth of the sun.  

                “C’mon pal, move it,” said another caring voice.

                Dave fell back into his body; he felt his beating heart in his chest, the bitter taste of toothpaste in his mouth. He started walking with the crowd of people. He drifted with them like a message in a bottle across the rolling sea.

Underpass Party

Underpass party

of bums and hobos,

celebrating something

amid the traffic and the

grime.

Four or five homeless

huddled together under the

concrete support pillars

of the highway overhead,

sharing a pizza.

They were all sweating

from the summer heat and

the compacted convection oven

of living under and around the

roar of traffic.

They smelled like vinegar and

fish, but they didn’t seem to

know. They ate like it was a

urban picnic, in one of their

own backyards.

They smoke and ate and spoke

of the days without care, of the easy life,

when it wasn’t this hard, to get

pizza, but pizzeria’s don’t deliver

to the underpass.  

The Saturday night traffic sped by them,

kicking up the road dirt and sludge,

but the bums and homeless simply

carried on, without barely a notice

of the perversion of it all.

It wasn’t that they were happy,

it wasn’t that they were miserable,

it’s just that they were there, in that space,

defiantly existing,

eating pizza from a cardboard box.

It was an Underpass pizza party,

covered in hardship,

but not buried

by it.

 

Beware The Motivational Meme

                If the internet has taught me anything, since the days of AOL and that screeching old dial-up modem sound, it’s that there’s very little you can trust on-line.  Unscrupulous individuals among the human race have certainly done their best to disrupt the fabric of harmony and the beacon of hope that we all thought the Internet would be. I’m not just speaking of the spammers or the e-mail Princes looking for your bank information to send you millions of dollars. I’m talking about motivational Memes.

                The motivational meme is quite possible the most dangerous of all Internet damnations. I’m specifically speaking of those picturesque scenes of setting suns over golden meadows, or crisp and clean waterfalls cascading over green leafy waterfalls, or some picture of a dirt or paved road leading off toward the horizon. These memes are dangerous. Not for their photographic content of course, but for the often completely ill-conceived motivational message they contain, usually written in some beautiful script or bold, unignorably cheery letterhead.    

                These are a trap because the majority of them contain nothing but terrible life advice. One sided, empty, misdirected life advice about friends or lovers or family or returning favors, or Panda love. Well, the Panda love ones might be alright. But the rest are often complete hooey.  

                Here’s my reasoning, I saw one of these memes yesterday that went something like this (I’m paraphrasing a bit) “Some friends are like shadows and are only visible during the bright times, but real friends are still with you in the dark.”   I know what it intends to mean but it fails miserably at actually conveying its message. Plus, it’s completely untrue. Friendship is complex and often difficult to sustain even in the best of circumstances, but the eventuality and reality is, even your closest and best friends on occasion WILL LET YOU DOWN. It’s not a permanent thing. Everyone at some point or another let’s someone they care about down. It’s just life. So those friends that “disappear” in the dark times, well, they’re still there, they just have their own lives going on or their own deeply rooted psychological issues to deal with that might, just might, take priority over your issues.  Friendship, in my opinion, is not predicated on the idea of who is there for me when I’m down, but rather, who understands when I’m down and doesn’t judge me for being so.  That’s friendship, in the bright or the dark. 

                There was another one that sort of gets me annoyed; it goes something like (again paraphrasing) “There’s no reason to look back on the road you’ve been on, just keep moving forward.”               That’s utter rubbish. Sure, we should keep our eye focused on what’s ahead and not wallow in the mistakes of the past, but it’s important to remember where we’ve been. Just walking blindly forward endlessly without having a sense or knowledge of the past means you haven’t learned anything. If you don’t have a sense of where you’ve been, a sense of what those experiences taught you, even if they were bad or embarrassing or things you regret, then they have played an important part in your journey and should not be ignored or simply forgotten for the sake of forward movement.

                I also really hate the ones that go like “What you are afraid to do is a clear indicator of the next thing you need to do.”  Not because the message is false or inaccurate, but because it sounds like something the very elite would say. Sometimes the reason we can’t do something isn’t because we’re afraid, it’s really because we do not have the means. It’s almost like saying, “If you wish hard enough, it’ll happen.”  I’m not afraid of success so what you’re saying is, I don’t have to do that next. (Ok. Cool. I won’t. Whew! Big relief there.)  I think it sends a mixed message rather than one that says, “Hey, try. It might work out. It might not, but at least you tried.” That seems somehow more direct and honest to me than, “Don’t be a chicken, go jump out of a $50,000 airplane cause it scares you, buddy.” 

                I think what we really should take away from these scary internet motivational memes is that there are no quick fix phrases for any situation in life and to read these things with a grain of salt. Life is never just black and white, people aren’t always bad or always good, and real wisdom comes from thinking for yourself and coming to the conclusions that best suit your specific situation. It’s important to maintain a little perspective on these things and remember how complex life is and that no one phrase is the turnkey to happiness or spiritual peace.  Except for those Panda love memes, those will change your life.