It's Not Fair!

 

Under the guise of being "the disadvantaged," various segments of the population strive for equality.  That is disingenuous because as soon as equality is legislated they begin to go for superiority and replace whatever cultural norms may be in place with what they feel is "better." So what we are seeing is a power struggle, a sort of "King of the Hill" situation where the extant are under siege by those not.

Cases in point:

A reader of Marilyn Savant's column takes issue with the designation Male/Female for electrical (and plumbing) plugs.

A particularly vocal woman decries moustaches as being unsavory when in fact the only reason she dislikes them is she can't grow one.

A young man shrugs off the advice of an older, more knowledgeable, pool player until the older tells him he didn't make this stuff up, it was told to him by more experienced players.

Dr. Seuss books are banned.

The black/white issue will not even be addressed here but the implications are the same.

There is a structure in place, not necessarily legal, moral, or ethical, that is seen as unfair by some and they make every attempt to dismantle it and replace it with something they feel is more fair.  The fact is that life is not fair and to seek fairness is like jousting with windmills.  Those who ascribe to the existing structure are vilified and shamed into compliance with the "new" ideas simply because they don't agree.

Legislation cannot change attitudes; we think it can but only the personal choice of the holder of that attitude will change it.  Time will pass, attitudes will change under the influence of law but constantly haranguing for them will not.  Any more than body shaming will change the eating habits of an obese person.       

Are You There?

 The following is an exercise used successfully to imagine contacting entities in the spiritual realm.  Is it memory or reminder?  I don't know but it works.

The curtain closes; (sitting comfortably in a chair in a darkened room) the audience is leaving the theater.  Each one talking with another, some happy, some not, all with emotional and physical reactions. (Relaxing, as all the tension and anxiety are assigned to the departing audience)   

When the theater is empty, all of the emotional and physical reactions to the production and to life in general  likewise depart.  And each one, as they leave, takes with them the anxiety and tension, it is gone.  The theater is silent and empty. (The body is fully relaxed; arms, legs, neck, shoulders, back, face, jaw, mouth agape.)

Then the director appears, descends a  staircase, counting down the twelve steps into the dimly lit storage area where the props, costumes, and sets from previous performers are kept.  He opens the door and enters the room, the remnants of those who filled these roles and costumes, who used these props and sets, are evident to him.  He places a chair and closes the door, he sits in the darkness of the room (doing so); no sound, no light, nothing stirring.

He whispers a name.  Lights a candle (Doing so.) Stares into the flame.  With the name in mind, he recalls occasions when he was with this person, what the person was doing.

He is receptive to anything this person may want to pass along to him.  He sits and stares into the flame, the quiet all around, the presence felt, the words, feelings, influences, memories, all seeping into his mind.  

A trickle at first, then more clearly; is there a message to be heard, felt, or perceived?  What would you tell me?  Are there things I should know, should do, of which I should be aware?  Are there ideas that can be shared, passed along, developed into action? How can the person be of assistance to him now?  Would that assistance be given?  Are there others to join us, who, why?

We sit together, enjoying the company, each of the other until the other gets up and turns to go, walks away, fades into the darkness.

Slowly the director gets up from the chair, sees the candle light and extinguishes it, opens the door, .  He goes up the stairs, counting each as he ascends.  One-two-three-four; up to five, six, seven, eight, (opening the eyes) to see the stage surrounding him, (the room) set as it is for the performance coming soon (the next).

The Performance of Life (The Theater Analogy)

 

The lights are out, you are laying in bed, covers up to your chin; all snug for sleep.  The day's performances are over.  The audience has left the building, the lights are dim, the staff and crew are making preparations for cleaning and repairs.  These are the mechanicals, they will work all night.  The object of their work is the facility; the theater, an analogy for the body.

(Later, an addendum) Laying there, in bed, eyes closed, imagining the scene.  The theater (the body) is emptying, the audience is leaving.  Each in the audience carries with him/her an emotional response to the performance, the events of the day, and as the audience leaves the theater, they take with them the emotional responses until they are all gone, the theater is empty (the body fully relaxed) and the meeting is about to start.

The director, the persona in charge, walks down the middle aisle and up onto the stage.  There is a single work lamp in middle of the floor.  He beckons the cast, all the other personae in the being, to the first few rows and asks that they be on their best behavior.

He begins with a review of the day and how it went.  Not an in-depth review but more calling to mind the events of the day, the performances.  At times the cast chuckles at what happened, at other times there is silence because it didn't go as planned; then there's mild laughter as the miscues are recalled, those that were made but didn't disrupt the show.  

Continuing now, he brings out the way the show is supposed to go on in the next and future performances.  Those dozen, or so, facets that need attention in order for the show to be a success; to fulfill the aim of peace of mind through accomplishment.  In expounding on these he goes into some detail for what has to happen tomorrow and the days after tomorrow, into the future.  Each member of the cast hears and has an internal reaction; being professional he/she remains positive and constructive.

Once satisfied that he's covered the agenda, the Director dismisses the cast with the admonition to have some fun, get some rest, and be on top of your game for the next performance.  Then he goes to his special place, his dressing room, and sighs in relief of another day of success and he goes to sleep.

And then we do it all again tomorrow night.

The Basics

 As it is with most philosophy, the basics of living can be expressed completely and succinctly.  It is in the expansion and application of these basics where the work becomes complex.  Just as the Constitution of the United States is succinct and not an exhausting work in and of itself, it took the Federalist Papers and it still takes a panel of judges on the Supreme Court to interpret it.  The rules of golf is another great example of this as is the work of Peter Drucker on subject of management.

The physical basics are clean air and water, nourishment, cleanliness, and activity as one avoids harmful substances.  The mental basics are stimulation and objectivity.  

Providing these allows a care free life except for the possibility of disease, which can be the result of genetics, emotions, and environment.  We can't control our genetics but we can recognize our emotions and change our environment.  

There it is.

Genetically we can be predisposed to some diseases and there isn't much to be done about it. Although, our collective ability to identify and treat diseases has resulted in coping with many of them. 

Emotionally we can find ourselves in situations where our responses are so irrational and out of control that physical manifestations occur.  Here too, we have developed methods of coping with them.

Environmentally we can be in a locations where the air and/or water are simply not suitable to a healthy environment. This can be changed if it is desirable to do so.

Attending to these basics allows us to pursue Aim because the basics are not exhausting.  They can be mostly fulfilled by good habits and attending to detail.  The remaining time of our life can be spent pursuing Aim, another way of saying, fulfilling our dreams.  

Attention!

 

"Remember, the amateur works until he can get it right.  The professional works until he can't get it wrong."  

Advice given to Julie Andrews, as a young actress, and she passes it along to us.  It is sage advice and can be verified by observation when we see professionals performing.  And it goes deeper to understand it.

The professional has three primary tools; knowledge, iteration, and attention.  He learns his role from the inside out.  Yes, he learns his lines; yes, he knows his blocking; yes, he knows the context of the piece; through repetition he can do it without even thinking about it.  

Then, as with any professional, he pays attention to what he is doing, while he is doing it.  This is what allows him to perform without a flaw.  Should a flaw occur by another, it is what allows him to make adjustments to cover it.

Attention to costume, make-up and props.  Attention to the moods and attitudes of his fellows in the cast.  Attention to the activities prior to his entrance.  Attention to the stage as he enters.  Attention to those on stage with him.  Attention. albeit peripheral, to the audience and their reactions.  His aim is to be "on top of it."  To do it, to pay attention to doing it but without thinking about it.

And when it's over, complete relaxation.

"All the world's a stage" and so this can be said of any professional be he an attorney, a doctor, an engineer, an artist or an artisan, a tradesman, and even an actor.

Two Grand Analogies

 The first: it strikes me that making a plan for what to do during the week is a lot like going to a buffet table.  One takes his time, looks over the possibilities, puts on his plate that which he thinks he'd like, then walks away to enjoy it.  While away, there are snack tables set up around the room; a nibble here and a nibble there but always attending to the plate in hand.

Then, if all goes well, he sits back in a comfortable chair and enjoys the feeling that his hunger has been satisfied; not only from the food on the buffet table but the little snacks as well.  Then a while later, he gets hungry again.

The important food, the food that will see to his well-being, came from the buffet table; the snacks provided some interesting diversity.  The time spent in the dining room was well spent, that is important.

What is eaten in the here and now makes no discernible change in his appearance but, over time, too much of this or that will show its effect.  If properly nourished, one will continue a slim and healthy life and vice-versa.

The analogy is a good one.

The second: there are notebooks full of written thoughts probably never to be read.  These writings, and probably this blog, are like photographs taken during the course of a lifetime.  Some are large vista-views, some are composed and posed, some are candid shots that were spontaneous.  All of them are kept, at least for a while, in files or albums probably never to be viewed.

 Furthermore, the notebooks are in cursive which is something people younger than fourteen years cannot read without difficulty.  The more time that elapses the greater the possibility that no one, except scholars, will be able to understand the script.  Then there's the added complication that age has diminished my handwriting to a scrawl that is even more difficult to interpret, sometimes even by me who wrote it.

Like the old photos, no one recognizes the scene or the people.  So it goes; we look at our photos and read our notes for our own enjoyment and, perhaps that of others as yet unknown. 

The analogy is also a good one.

Songs from the Past

 This post is important only to me but others may find some inspiration to delve into their feelings after reading it.  It developed over the course of several days.

Wednesday, 9-16-2020: 

I had a conversation on the phone yesterday with a cousin.  I left that with a negativity that has nothing to do with him.  It must be linked to my growing-up years in St. Louis.  I realized today that I get that same depressed feeling when I deal with people from the high school I attended.  There’s something there, in my past with which I don’t want to deal and, worse, I’m not sure what it is.

Aha!  There was the summons from Msgr. Hellriegel; pastor of our church and an important person in the community and my life.  This was when I was about 13 years old; he berated my behavior.  That is the only thing that stands out as a negative experience of any large proportion.

I was a “good boy” – “bad boy” kind of kid.  Someone ratted out some of my bad behavior to the Msgr. and he pounced on me with both feet.  I think that had a deeper effect on me than I’ve realized.  I was an informal leader of the others but also sensitive to the disapproval of my superiors (dad, mom, et al.)

I’m not sure why high school brings on the negativity except in the person of a classmate who had a superior attitude.  We never had much of anything to do with one another but his father was a “rich” dentist and he and another were superior types in their behavior.  I eschewed them and resented them at the same time.  The other's dad owned the drug store.

Now whenever high school comes to mind, so do these feelings of resentment.  There’s a cloud over my high school years and a cloud over my teenage years in St. Louis.  Those clouds blot out the sunshine that I have come to enjoy away from there and then.

Thursday, 9-17-2020: 

What I wrote yesterday is profoundly true.  I’ve often thought about why I left St. Louis and always come back to the same conclusion.  I left to live a life without interference from family and others.  Also, I suppose I never quite saw a future for me there and that's on me.

A big part of that was coping with the past.  I think I bottomed out in 1959 after being advised to seek my education at another school.  I made some decisions then, actually it was one decision, return to that college and graduate in that curriculum.  The rest of what I did supported that.

Then in 1963, upon graduation, the decision was made to accept an offer from the shipyard in Newport News.  That decision was rooted in a desire to see the world and to be my own person and perhaps away from the disappointments of the past.

It has taken a long time and required deferment of seeing the world while we raised a family.  Now I can say I have seen the world, at least enough of it to be satisfied.  I can also say that I am my own person with a loving family and no regrets.

Unearthing the causes of negativity yesterday has added to my understanding of me.  I can say that all that happened around me led to me being who I am.  Not all of it was good; but, knock on wood, I never caused anybody much harm.

My core decisions were for my own peace of mind.   My good side overcame my bad side and I generally focused on the good, not the bad.  The bad makes me shiver.

In all of this I realize I am unique but not all that different from others.  There’s a lot of life still to be lived.  The difference, going forward, is that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, anymore.

Saturday, 9-19-2020: 

Continuing to remember the angst of my youth, I recall the dichotomy that existed, and of which I became aware in high school, in my life and social position.  We lived in a development named English Grove.  It was built out in the time between 1900 and 1910.

The farms adjacent to “the Grove” were developed between 1925 and 1935.  A different class of people lived in this newly developed area.  People with more money and status than we.

Yet in Baden and at Holy Cross, I felt that we were the privileged and others less so.  We handed down things and clothes to others in Baden.  So, I grew up on the border, not unlike Burgenland Austria, at the higher end of a social structure to the east and at a lower facing west.

It wasn’t until high school that I became aware of my lower class status.  The higher class was personified in my two privileged acquaintances.  It is from this that my resentment of them springs.  It became apparent that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.  We were of the poorer class.

I think this was, along with the Msgr. episode, what laid the foundation of my desire to get gone.  I suppose I didn’t like not being as good as I thought I was.  In fact, life has proven to me that I am not a natural at anything but must study, plan, and work to realize my dreams.  That formula has worked well for me, to get me where I am now.

Later Saturday: 

There seems to be a thread that goes through all of my formative years.  I came to realize, time after time, that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.  And there’s a good possibility that I am painfully aware of that even now.  Admitting this gives me solace, and recognizing this, time after time, my response has been to knuckle down and overcome any lack of natural talent through work. 

I sit here at age 80 and can say that I never found that at which I am a natural.  Often I had some success at my first attempt at things but that was the end of it; from then on it required hard work and practice if I was to succeed.  Those often paid big dividends for me and I came out very well at what I set out to do.  That was true in every endeavor that I pursued and those I am now pursuing.  Failure and working my way out of it to be successful has been de rigueur.