True Value

Drove past a house on my way home from work. They have been advertising a sale at that place for weeks, today was the big day. Not a bad day for a sale, sunny and a mild 60 degrees. A little breezy but still a very pleasant day.

Not a particular fan of estate sales, feels kind of creepy to me to be going through someone else's belongings. I understand the motivation and need for such sales but still, it feels wrong to me.

As I passed this place tonight There was a flat bed trailer parked under the yard light. On it were scattered the few remaining items of a persons life. A couple cardboard boxes, a vase laying on its side, a small pile that looked liked various cords twisted together, a bunch of plastic flowers. I felt very sad.

A life had been reduced to what it was worth to someone else and obviously these few items were of no value to anyone but the one who had owned them first. 

Beyond reach of the yard light in dim weak light I could see the porch which had in years past been littered with furniture and plants was bare. The brightly colored what-nots and whirly-gigs that had held places in the yard gaily proclaiming the residents affection for Cardinals baseball and birds gone. The whole place looked barren and bare. Had the whole place been directly under the yard light it would have looked as forlorn and sad as the trailer.

As I continued on my way home I replaced the last sad picture of the little place with the one I had seen for the past several years as drove by. Brightly colored whirly-gigs and what-nots in the yard. The Cardinals flag flapping, the pots of flowers scattered around the porch. On the swing, the lady who had lived there for untold number of years. Looking out across the yard, enjoying the things that made up her life. Each one important to her. Each valuable. 

Impressions on the Fly

It is amazing what you will see on a short drive through town. In quick succession you get glimpses of everyday life, just a peek at how others might spend their time.

The first thing to catch my eye was an older lady crossing the street. For the first few seconds all I could see was a small gray haired head slowing bobbing through the intersection. The car a head of me blocked the view of her body. The bobbing of her head made me think she must have some impediment to her step and the fact that I could only see her head lead me to believe she must be a very petite lady.
She finally cleared the intersection, having arrived safely on the opposite side, and traffic began to move. As I made my left hand turn I saw that she was in a motorized scooter. One hand on the control, the other holding a cigarette at a rakish angle like a movie star. Think Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard: "All right Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close up."

A few blocks later I arrived at my first destination, the local grocery store. I walked through the parking lot and just as my foot landed on the front walk a man in a very small car turned the corner and headed my way. Nothing out of the ordinary you might think but something caught my eye. I stepped onto the walk and turned toward the parking lot as he drove by.It was a very large man, in a very small car.
It looked as if the car had been built around him and he was a permanent fixture, like the dashboard fixed under the windshield. It started as a frame on one end of a production line. The seat installed first, the man placed in the seat, and then as it made its way down the line, the car was built around him. Maybe the car looked smaller because he was so big, or maybe the other way around. Maybe he looked bigger because he was in a very small car.

Instant impressions, neither more then ten seconds, leaving a lasting impression in the mind.

EMPATHY

Empathy ( em’pə-thė ) n. 1. sympathetic understanding of another person.

As words go it is not the longest or complicated to spell. It carries a simple four word definition. However, it seems to be one of the most difficult for people to grasp and employ in their life.

Let's just set aside the bigger implications like war, genocide, religious intolerance, and social stratification that are exacerbated by the absence of empathy and focus on the individual personal relationships we have. How we abuse and torment those closest to us.

We are not talking your everyday spats, misunderstandings, or miscommunications; that's life and we all have our own way of doing it and usually see it clearly with a bit more information or a different delivery. We are talking the kind of strife created when, for whatever reason, one of our personal relationships fails; a complete breakdown. It happens with friends, family, and partners.

It is an especially onerous situation when it is has been a long term, ongoing relationship. We have intimate knowledge of one another and know just what buttons to push, how to inflict the most pain, how to best abuse and torment each other. My question is why? Why do we do this? In place of what once was great affection, endearing and enduring, some can turn into the most viscous, vile, and spiteful things to walk the earth. Why do we not use this intimate knowledge of another, of the situation and our part in the situation to employ some EMPATHY?!

Being Human means lots of things. We react. We fight or flee. We lash out or with draw. These are givens. Where did we acquire this mean streak of destroying one another?

Own Your Sexuality

 Men Undressed  arrived in my mail box last week and I thought, hmmm: interesting. I immediately was off and running at the possibilities and anxious to start reading. I am one of those who do read introductions and prefaces to books. Ok, so far I am digging this, could be quiet interesting. The first *story* was more of an essay and I have to say I was less then pleased. I thought oh great, another feminist diatribe about male domination!

Perhaps I should give an idea of the books premise which is to cast light on the male perspective of sex. What sex feels like for them, how it functions in their lives. The kicker, all these stories are written by women. I may have taken the first easy wrong; I doubt it, but maybe. Right out of the gate I was greeted by the old argument of male dominated literary world. The female sexual experience only described by men. The varying attempts by women to reclaim their sexuality in literature that were met with harsh criticism and the typical response that it was just wrong to say it was one thing when a man wrote it, and another much less appealing description when a woman did. Come on folks, let’s get past it, get over it and move on!

As for the traditional roles in literature, they are what they are. Context is very important. You can not apply modern opinions and attitudes to literature written in the past. If you keep it in context it will most surely obliterate some of the current interpretations applied to the work. I like to read literature for what it is. Try to get inside the authors head a bit, maybe discover why they put words together the way they did and perhaps find some meaning from the words. Not everything lends itself to interpretation; some times you just take it at face value.

A book mentioned in the opening essay, Fear of Flying by Erica Jong is on my list of must reads. It is also the hinge of this first essay. It is a woman’s own words about her sexuality and was not well received. Critics, yes mostly male, called it obscene and vulgar. Some labeled it pornography and smut. It was published and from all accounts sold quite well. My question is, does it matter what critics said? Obviously not. So why can we not just say I did this, I did it well, it defied labeling.

I have read a few of the other stories now; they are as varied as the people who are writing them. I can’t say I have my head completely in the book yet but I am giving it every opportunity to win me over, enlighten me, leave an impression. It is very likely I will read it more then once, I want to give it due attention and, if warranted rave reviews.

Yes, I am all for self identity. I just happen to see self identity as individual not part of a group. I do not view others by their obvious traits, skin color, gender, etc.. I don’t care to be judged by those standards either. I am well acquainted with myself and my sexuality: the words of others doesn't change that. 

That's my Zen showing...

Group Think

I am utterly amazed at how stupid some people can be. I would say clueless but really that is a bit benign for the train wreck that is taking place in the break room. Unfortunately my space is located almost directly across the hall from the break room so I hear all manner of nonsense but, what I am hearing right now should be transcribed and printed int he employee handbook under the title of, Things Not to Discuss Openly & Loudly if You Wish to Create a Harmonious Work Place.

There is a group of women in there who are having a discussion about one of their co-workers. As they continue to talk the volume just got higher as they each tried to be heard over the other, not uncommon when you put together a group of people and each thinks what they have to say is the most important bit. They got loud. I did not catch the name of the person they were trashing, that must have been mentioned and agreed upon before the volume went up but they were all throwing their iron in fire when listing reasons why they "really don't like her,"  her wardrobe, make-up, hair color, and fitness are all subject to ridicule. I'd feel sorry for the intended victim but I do not know who it is, and I am not entirely sure she won't be in on the next round when one of the others is the victim.

Any group of people can be ill-behaved. Working in a building in which the work force is almost exclusively female is a living breathing study in group think and it is ugly.

While I am not ignorant of the ways of human nature, I am still, on occasion amazed at their ways.

Enlighten Yourself

Straight-up, I am tired of having to apologize for my reading and writing habits.Even worse, I find myself having to hide many of my talents and tastes.Since when has Eclectic become a dirty word? And who determines what is appropriate for me? I am perfectly capable of making that judgment for myself. Because others do not understand it makes it wrong for me? Well it isn’t.Off the beaten path you will find a host of stimulating things whether it is literature, music, or philosophy. You may discover some understanding, a strain of enlightenment you had afore then lacked. It wouldn’t be so bad if we were to gain some knowledge, compassion and empathy along the way.

Humility

"The first product of self-knowledge is humility."

     Flannery O'Connor

Engaging the gray matter

It’s a sad day when you find yourself standing in your kitchen eating microwave mac & cheese out of a Styrofoam cup with the newspaper spread out over the stove top and do not even realize it may not be the best thing to do for your health, nor your peace of mind.

Although at the time it seemed an ordinary enough thing to be doing which only made it doubly disconcerting when the realization of the circumstances penetrated the addled brain.

How does one come to be standing in the kitchen at nine o’clock at night eating out of Styrofoam?

Given the current state of affairs, personal, political, and employment wise it is not that much of a stretch to imagine. With a simple shrug of shoulders it passes from objective thought as easily as a political commercial. But wait! This situation may require some real thought. And that my friend is the root of the problem.

Really how long has it been since the gray matter has engaged in any kind of thought outside of the mundane, ordinary strife and melodrama of a usual day? The question begs an answer late on a weeknight while standing in the kitchen; but there isn’t going to be any sleep tonight. The gray matter is engaged—damn, I was tired.

Nothing like a late night philosophic discussion with yourself to knock the cobwebs loose and get you fired up. That one word question "WHY?" can cause a veritable beehive of activity. Neurons spark, gray matter quivers, blood pulses along seldom used pathways. The surge of energy brightens the eyes, skin becomes flushed, and muscles twitch. It’s almost as good as sex but with no big O at the end-- well maybe.