death, the civil war, and evolution: the bloodying of mankind

i have often heard that the 20th century was the bloodiest in recorded history.  it’s pretty sad that in 100 years of modernity we managed to slaughter more people than in 2000+ years of prehistory.  but i was listening to “fresh air” and the president of Harvard, who has just written about how the Civil War affected American attitudes toward death and dying, had some insight into why that really is.

in the Victorian era, here and elsewhere in the West, death was viewed as something intimate to be shared with the family at home.  the concept of dying alone and unmourned was foreign and strange.  so when the Civil War comes along, and more Americans lose their lives than in all the 20th century wars that followed combined, death becomes a detached, dark, and lonely endeavour.

the straggling Union and Confederate armies could not afford the time or manpower to give every fallen soldier a proper burial.  bodies were gathered and thrown haphazardly into half-dug ditches, covered with dirt and subsequently forgotten.  the author read part of a letter from a dying Union soldier to his father, in which he states his father can be “happy” knowing how his son had succumbed to death, rather than living with an unsolved mystery for the rest of his days.

i began to consider, with the author’s help, the factors at play in American culture at the time.  religiously, people as a whole believed in the resurrection of the body as well as the soul.  amputees then began to worry they would be resurrected in pieces.  at the end of the 19th century, the religious establishment clashed with growing skeptics as the Modern Age began over the theory of evolution; man resisted terming himself an animal, even as on the battlefield he insisted upon killing and dying like one.

now, i’ve never been a detractor of evolution, or a proponent of creationism, by any means.  but it is interesting to think that parallel to the rise of the Hobbesian man as “noble beast” was the climax of human animalisation, as we began to slaughter each other like lambs across the young United States.  as evolution began to take hold as plausible, the bloodiest century in human history began to unfold.  this undoubtedly coincides more with powerful nations attempting to unseat one another with increasingly more devastating weapons.  but perhaps just as we began to look at each other more as evolved beasts rather than spirits cloaked in flesh with a noble purpose (still descended from apes and primordial goo, of course: it’s a question of self-perception), so did we begin to view dying less as an honorable, intimate experience and more as just another process in the rapid evaporation of our lives.

lo, how a rose e’re blooming, or, the obligatory introspective christmas post

i’m annoyed at how sucky contemporary christmas music is. why is it all plainly despondent or sappy crap? there was a time when christmas music was beautiful, or joyful, or both, and quite frankly i think that is how it should always be, whether secular or sacred. think run, run rudolph and silent night.

so christmas came and went and this year i feel more detached from the season than ever. it is moments like this that i realise my life is really stuck in purgatory right now. i will be escaping that very shortly.

every year after christmas i generally lie awake in my bed pondering what it all means. i generally permit my hyperactive mental juices to saturate my cerebellum a little more than usual, since methinks this is sort of the purpose of this holiday, to reflect on what it signifies, again, both secularly and spiritually. this season i’ve read Saramago’s The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, a critical take on Christ’s life and ministry through the eyes of a socialist skeptic. i’ve also begun reading the Gnostic gospels and the Apocrypha, or sacred texts omitted from the “orthodox” Bible in an attempt to gain a wider understanding of how Christ was perceived in the early days of his nascent faith. those who know me well know that i am spiritual, but not religious, and my interest in religion is a strong academic one at heart. nonetheless i ordinarily delve into the christmas spirit, and this year has proved more difficult to do so.

but lying awake here at nearly 2 AM anticipating the sun to rise on Boxing Day, family having departed and mentally preparing to head several thousands of miles away back to my other home once again, after having bounced from a week in Washington, D.C. back to New Jersey, i’m reminded that the spirit of the season requires us to step away from ourselves and into the hearts of others. this makes me feel the pain that my family feels each time i leave and go further away, and it does not make living any easier. but despite the pain i must seek to understand how they feel; i must look at it through their eyes and hearts, or else risk creating a rift of selfish misunderstanding between us.

look, we are all a little selfish, and perhaps we need be to preserve our own lives and mental stability, for which we must assume the primary charge if they are to be truly “our” lives. and from a social perspective, it’s true that we cannot help others if first we cannot help ourselves. but we bear a responsibility to one another, and selfishness does not serve that duty well. christmas reminds us that we ought to think about what we can and should do for others in our lives and beyond. it’s a time for us to stop talking and start listening, and to maybe put aside our seemingly impenetrable priorities to be there for someone in need. it’s a time for us to remember those without whom we would not be who we are, but also to appreciate others for who they are and what they’re about. a time a shepherd lets rest his flock so he can go and watch over a little child sleeping in a barn, while he ponders who this child is and what he will amount to.

merry christmas to all, and to all a good night.

a day without technology

instead of inundating my readers with the daily variety of existential crisis that any one in my predicament may find themselves on the verge of day in and day out, and clot up the blogosphere with its retelling, i thought i would share some idea i had while sitting on the stoop on this unusually warm night in the City. it’s by no means compelling or original, but perhaps worthwhile.

i have been reflecting on the nature of technology and how it has supposedly fostered interconnectedness among peoples, if you would believe the plethora of advertising that insists this is so. just take a whiff of the host of social networking sites that i am by no means immune from, which enable us to track our ‘friends” every move, purchase, relationship endeavour, even online Scrabble performance. add this to the fact that we amble about with cell phones in constant ready position to entertain the next caller. how often i’ve found myself with a spare moment to myself, only to cycle through my contact list seeking out somebody whose voice i haven’t heard in a while.

this last example aside i am left, as we all are, to ponder if rampant technological advances i’ve seen over the course of my lifetime (and perhaps you’ve seen even more in yours) have really succeeded in bringing us closer together, in truly connecting us, or has it only superficially done so and in fact driven a solid wedge between the intertwined matter of souls? does how often we check our e-mail actually bring us together, or does the fact that emotions are communicated electronically dilute the personal nature of those sentiments?

on top of all that wondering, today i feel a sort of constant throbbing in my head and tinge of sickness in my stomach, and i think it comes from staring at one too many screens, be it laptop computer, mp3 player, cell phone screen, television, et al. so i’ve contrived a sort of social experiment for myself. tomorrow i will live a day without technology. i’ve spent a good deal of time considering what this actually entails, and i think by ‘technology’ i refer to the personal electronics we rely upon to remain ‘plugged in’ to the societal mainframe (so i’m not eliminating public transit, because i need to get out of the house, and my neighborhood). basically i am just going to walk around and read books (which is what i do most of the time, anyway) and talk to strangers. i want to assess the overall feeling achieved and see if objectively i feel more ‘in touch’ with or without the technology i, like most of us, have come to depend upon.

this feeling of ‘connected’ is hard to define here in terms of a valid hypothetical goal. but i think i’m looking for genuine social contact. it will be hard to incur this feeling in my interactions with others who are not themselves temporary Luddites, but being as this is not a formal experiment but merely a whim of one i merely seek, at the end of the day, an ascertainable difference.

as i was sitting on the stoop i pondered taking this one step further, and i think i will make a point of following through with this experiment as well: i want to live one day of my life, technologically and sociologically speaking, as my parents would have when they were my age (read: imagine it is 1973/1976). this involves a bit of research into exactly what san francisco was like in those years, but i will imagine that the infrastructure is now as it would have been back then, meaning not visiting places that did not exist or riding on public transit that was not yet in place. on top of this, i will dress like my father, which should not be difficult as most of my [favourite] clothing is actually permanently borrowed from his closet. i’m excited to give this one a try, but first i will report back my findings from the former experiment before undertaking such a precise effort, which warrants more extensive documentation (read: embarassing photos and video).

i know it’s a bit of an extreme, but quite often extremes are the only things that have any impact.

my parents in 1971. this could be hard to pull off. look, no cell phones here.

for teddy

preghiera, on ocean beach at sunset

le stelle nel cielo
sono numeroso
come le onde nel mare
come la sabbia sulla spiaggia
come le vie che la nostra vita
si puo’ seguire
aiutami sempre di seguire
la stella piu’ brillante
l’onda piu’ forte
la sabbia meno camminata.

a song for the despondent

so, in WordPress.com’s stripped-down but functional interface, i have the option of reviewing my “blog stats,” which record how many people visit daily, how they’ve arrived here, and what they’ve clicked on.  interestingly enough i can also view what search engine terms people keyed in to wind up viewing my blog.  many times it’s been a simple combination of my screen name and some part of the blog title, since people seem unable to remember the exact phrase, “i’m happier when i’m broke,” even though i figured it would be catchy and memorable when i chose it.  other times, people have genuinely been looking for something that in a bitter swerve of irony i’ve uttered in the same entry, such as “muffler carteret new jersey.”

but a more disturbing trend i’ve noticed involves people who have been searching for answers that Google cannot provide, at least not directly; entries like “i’m broke and don’t know what to do anymore,” or “i’m broke and tired of life.”  while particularly jarring that these expressions direct people to my blog, i wanted to offer to those of you who end up reading these words under such duress some simple consolation: things may seem particularly shitty right now, but keep your head up and don’t give up hope: life moves in cycles, and yours will certainly be brighter soon.  i direct you to my entry of several days ago about the importance and omnipresence of the balance of light and darkness.  i can’t promise you the stars will align themselves under your nose, and tomorrow morning your pants will put themselves on, because that is not realistic.  in fact, you may utterly despise me in short time, as things can always get worse before they get better.  but they do and will get better.

i have authority to say this because, hey, things aren’t fantastic for me right now, either.

but alas, here is some advice from a couple of random shitty artists which we may all heed some day; special thanks to Google for giving me the most appropriate result on the first page:

anyway, i suppose in a way Google is acting the Fate by connecting the despondent with this, my ephemeral voice of carefully nuanced reason and sardonic contemplation.  i can only hope that it offers you, sad creature, some repose, and maybe a warm fuzzy feeling of things-are-not-so-bad-as-they-seem.  at least you know that you’re not alone.

a quick trip

aside from an ex-girlfriend who has since married and had kids, this weekend marked the first marriage of one of my closest friends. true, geography of separation and different life-pages had generated a substantial divide between us, but it never really became a rift, and i still consider adam to be one of the best friends i’ve had in my adult life.

we had an arranged friendship, really – my college writing professor, Cynthia Bair Van Dam, told me she had another student that I “absolutely had to meet;” she knew that we would be perfect friends for each other – and she was right. after that we made music, took trips, fell in and out of love together, partied, and had long walks in the woods.

cindy new that adam and i were very similar people. we both place extremely high value on love and physical and emotional closeness. it’s no wonder that so many periods of both our lives are highlighted, if not defined by, the people to whom we were close.

i never had the privilege to get to know kat as well. i was present for their courting, but felt compelled to graduate a semester early in 2003 and fled to italy during the prime months of their formative romance. when i returned in the summer i felt i had missed many months of proximity with my friends, and this is one of my greatest regrets. but they took me in once again. kat, unfortunately, had left for Uganda with the Peace Corps for a long haul, and she and adam had vowed to make it work, and work it did, as this weekend they put any doubters to rest. though she wasn’t around to get to know, fate brought adam in to work as a “manny” for a family just under a mile from my house in alexandria, VA. i was eternally grateful for this excellent opportunity to spend so much time together. we had another year to rebuild our friendship before once again i felt compelled to move, this time to new york city.

i think adam was one of several people who were disappointed that i didn’t end up back in washington, but his friendship insists that he understands why i chose not to return. spending time with him at the wedding reinforced that pain of separation, but now he embarks on his new life together with kat, and i’m certain that our friendship will continue to be a part of that life.

when i learned adam bought a $400 suit from macy’s, i thought boy, he really has changed. when he found this number at his favorite thrift store in Sparta, NC, and got it for 10 bucks, he took the pricey one back. that’s more like it.

the “ring bear,” Jake. one of the kids adam was “manny” to. jake was upset when he realised he was supposed to be a “bearer” and not a bear, but adam remedied the situation.

it’s been a while since i’ve ventured that far into the country. forgot how to pump gas the old fashioned way.

jordan and i went three sleepless nights from coast to coast to make this trip happened, and i’m sure he would join me in doing it all over again.

the ceremony was a wonderful hegemony of a variety of traditions, rooted in the southern ambience of the north carolina mountaintop meadow it took place in. here the couple, flanked by their parents, stand under a chuppah, a Jewish marriage tent. the reception was at the camp adam’s mother has worked at in laurel springs, NC, in the dining hall, which was beautifully decked out in autumnal splendor. adam has a deep love for things fall, and the food reflected a southern autumn, from fried okra and catfish to pumpkin pie and spiked apple cider.

playing with fire at the indian village at natural bridge, VA.

jordan approves.

really a beautiful place to get married.

a bit of perspective

i’ve been reminded lately of a short story i wrote several years ago for a class in Taoism.  it was supposed to have something to do with the Tao, and balance.  strangely enough i feel that when i wrote it, i did not understand what i was writing as well as i do now.

the story, which i am unable to locate but will post if i ever do, basically goes like this:

the earth stops turning, and the world is frozen in a singular position against the sun.  the result is that the planet divides into four quadrants, each with a particular meteorological consequence.

the first quadrant is frozen in perpetual darkness.  chaos reigns over this part of the world, with looting, raping, pillaging, and sordid violence plaguing the streets of a people who are doomed to be forever in the dark, hopeless that all light has been lost forever.

the second quadrant is stuck in sunlight.  these people are overworked, exhausted, tired of each other, stuck in the same routine day after day and afraid that any day their darkness may come and rob them off their light, for which they feign gratitude but secretly disdain.

the third quadrant is lodged in permanent dusk.  the people here fear the impending darkness, and it is this terror that guides their daily actions.  people are selfish and hoard what they can for what they see as the inevitable drape of blackness that will soon cover them.  every day they awake fearful that it will be their last opportunity to feel the light of the sun.

the final quadrant, which i imagined to be primarily ocean with a stretch of spattered islands, is the land of eternal dawn.  here, the people are ever hopeful to be bathed in light.  each day they awake with a renewed vigor, thankful that they have at least a glimmer of light.  they never take for granted that each day starts precisely the same, but instead feel a constant, undying energy of morning.

at the time i wrote this story, i related it to Tao in that the world commanded balance, much like Chi.  i did not envision that this imaginary world would ever turn again, and the respective lands would be plunged into the respective patterns of their neighbors.  but now i see things differently, and this i appreciate as the true balance.

when i meet people and eventually relate to them this story, i ask them what kind of person they see themselves as; or, which quadrant they belong in.  everyone comes away thinking that they belong in the sunrise land.  this is what i believed; indeed, when i wrote this story i was living in the land of eternal dawn.  i was poised to graduate college and take on the world face to face, directly, at ramming speed.  since then i have spent time in each quadrant, as i will be wont to do again for the rest of my life, as we will all be forced to do.  this is life, Chi, balance, the way.  the reality is that balance demands we cannot belong to simply one quadrant over another.  they represent phases of our lives.  different quadrants are appropriate for varying transitions we must make to be complete; even the most content person will not be whole if he or she does not experience at least some period of perennial darkness.

where am i now?  where are you?  where do you want or need to be?  these are the things we have to consider when we ponder our place in the world.

so long, my fairlady

my father tells me he’s finally sold my car, to a pilates instructor from turnersville in her mid 30s. i am teary-eyed as we shared some fine moments together (the car and i, not the pilates instructor). in 35,000 miles she carried me between philadelphia, washington, and new york many times. she went topless for me in the summertime so we could both have a good time together. she lost her cool in later years, but it was okay, since she was a convertible and i hate air conditioning anyway. she definitely drained my wallet many times over the years, but i did it because i loved her. though she almost died on me several times, and she could never tolerate the frozen new york winters (neither could i), she never gave up on me. now she is gone, but not without leaving her trails all over my heart, what with her excellent dry traction and turning radius. i will never forget her.

my father says the pilates instructor from turnersville cried when he handed over the keys. apparently she had a dream about my car, and dreamed that she was gold, even though it didn’t say so in the ad. she knew then that she had to have a Z, and not just any Z, but my fairlady Z. she dreamt it, and then made it a reality. i would have to say i can’t imagine her going to anyone more worthy.

what happens next?

being a libra, i’ve never had much fun with decisions. astrologically-inclined friends and family have never been amiss to point this out to me. but as i’ve matured, i’ve found big, life-crunching decisions usually unravel themselves before me more easily than simple, stupid ones, such as peanut butter or cream cheese on that sesame seed bagel.

now, i’m faced with multiple decisions based upon the self-assembling blueprint of my life, which has always seemed tumultuous but now seems torn anew between different places and different energy forces.

i came to san francisco to reclaim myself, not to find myself, as many have done. i was found before and simply got off track, and i needed a place away from loved ones, in a place where the sun sets instead of rises over the ocean, to prevent myself from further derailment. and i have made excellent headway in doing so. for the first time in a very long period of self-absence i finally feel like myself again. i’m truly happy here among friends new and old, mountains and hills, whitecaps and sunshine. why, then, do i even consider leaving such happiness?

for most of those who come here to find themselves, san francisco is a transitory place, fleeting at best, a place where memories are deposited and retrieved as quickly as raw materials en route to chinese assembly lines. i do not feel this way. every other place i have lived was transitory: washington, which changes with every political ebb and flow; new york, which eager souls can endure for only a year or two before burnout. instead, i came here because i felt like it was home, and everything i have experienced thus far has seemed to justify that. despite opportunities arising in other locales i never considered this move to be temporary, just sort of a mental repositioning. now, with my departure imminent to face those other opportunities, i worry that i am leaving exactly the sort of thing i came to find to return to exactly the sort of thing i meant to get away from. i never doubt that i can find opportunities wherever i may be, and while i’m not one to burn bridges, it seems fitting that this is where i belong right now.

there are many decisions to make in the next few days, but one thing bears mentioning: everyone here who is not from here has a story, a story for how they ended up here. when leaving felt so certain, i thought my eventual return would not be a story worthy of bearing repetition. now i feel like i finally have my story.

on another point, someone shared a terrific insight with me today – lots of insights, actually – but one specifically relates to an earlier post of mine: why are the very young and very old the easiest and most interesting sort of people to talk to? the answers lay within their respective souls and alignment with the cycle of life; the very young are closest to birth, the very old closest to death. thus, they have both the most insightful and innocent of all of life’s observations.