hopelesshappiness.com

Flame.Fire.Magic.

Reflection.Water.Purification.

Substance.Earth.Burial.

Feathers.Air.Lightness.

BlueFlame.RedFlame.

HotFire.ColdFire.

BlackMagic.WhiteMagic.

MirroredReflection.InnerReflection.

ColdWater.StillWater.

BodilyPurification.SpiritualPurification.

ExanimateSubstance.ActiveSubstance.

SustainableEarth.GenerativeEarth.

MassBurial.PrematureBurial.

FloatingFeathers.BrokenWings.

WarpedAir.OminousAir.

SeeingLightness.BeingLightness.

Does it matter what I write? Or only that I write? The lines above have meaning, but who's going to make the effort to discern my meaning? Or interpret their own? I believe that because writing helps me to maintain a degree of personal equilibrium, individuals within my reach likely only care that I write; and most of these circularities don't even realize that they care. As a stabilizing force, my writing makes me somewhat easier to live with. I care about both: what I write and that I write.

The self is a circularity in that it defines and justifies its self through itself and it interprets and judges all else through its self. To justify, define or prove to one's self through oneself may be one's truth but cannot be truth because one cannot prove an argument when the premise is also the conclusion. Therefore there is no truth because one's self is both premisee and concluder, thus one's personal truth is always skewed by one's self. I believe it simpler to acknowledge the total absence of certainty thus proving the necessity of empathy and compassion, because once acknowledged, the complete lack of certainty requires one self to credit and value another self. Have I stumbled across the only logical truth applicable to all relationships and to interdependence and to progress and ultimately to the survival of Humanity? I am confident that this progression of thought has been thought before. It feels (in my limited understanding) Buddhist in nature. I suppose it is only applicable and only logical and only helpful though when it is reciprocated. And it is only truly reciprocated when one self truly does not care about the provenance of another self's truth, and when this absence of concern is also reciprocated. Each individual can hold on to that authorship, but it should not influence interactive progress. Democrats and Republicans both publicly claim to want what is best for everyone; but they do not. If they did, they would forego any personal ingrained premise and defer to expertise. The same could be said of Christians and Muslims and Atheists. If we are all in the general vicinity of each other's definition of good, why must we tie the conclusion to the premise? Why not defer to logic and reason for the implementation of good. Logic and reason is more likely to come from the objectivity of logic and reason than from the subjectivity of emotional belief. If empathy and compassion are good, why are we all so far apart? I believe it is because too many individuals are unable to offload the weighty encumbrance of circularity.

As a circularity, I care about both: what I write and that I write.

One side is afraid of losing control. Not necessarily afraid of the embodied threat, or the justice demanded. These things have always been and will always be. But today the understanding of goodness is more widespread and continues to grow, and acumen is more pronounced.

The other side is afraid of the spreading lightlessness. Not necessarily afraid of the darkness, or the shadows within. These things have always been and will always be. But today the darkness is more widespread and continues to encroach, and the shadows are more pronounced.

Once upon a time, the division was fuzzy; there was a large neutral area of herd mentality; a great many individuals simply working to take care of their self and help those closest to them. Today the encroaching darkness and the unavoidable wisdom have swallowed constituencies, forcing individuals to choose.

One side is afraid of uncontrolled violence. So much so that they show up early for planned peaceful demonstrations; and they establish perimeters in their riot gear, with their tactical weapons that are banned in international warfare. They agitate and enflame and goad and incite and boast about “vicious dogs” and “ominous weapons” and hide behind hypocrisy and powerful words that claim they respect peaceful protest when faced with violence, and then claim that they respect diversity when faced with peaceful protest, and then claim that they respect everyone’s rights when faced with diversity, and then claim that they respect law and order when faced with individual rights, and then claim that they respect the second amendment when faced with the logic of the Constitution as a whole, and then claim that they respect their god when faced with their own inability to reason; all in an attempt to disarm and de-escalate and maintain the status quo. And how can one argue with their god.

The other side is afraid of continued uncontrolled violence. So much so that they show up unarmed for planned peaceful demonstrations, with their placards and slogans and chants and symbolism. They protest police brutality and divisive rhetoric and unnecessary American suffering and unnecessary American deaths and bureaucratic snafus, and they stand on the front lines to reason, and failing that to seek justice according to law, and failing that to exercise Constitutional rights, and failing that to argue basic Human Rights, and failing that to celebrate and understand difference, and failing that to come together as one, and failing that to plead for mercy, and failing that to fight; all in an attempt to learn and grow and build a new and better status quo for tomorrow, and another for the day after, and another for the day after that. And how can one argue with their efforts to do good.

This week there was a picture of our president standing in front of a church, holding a bible. I look at this picture and I see peaceful protesters being gassed nearly 30 minutes before a curfew was to be imposed, so the presidential entourage could make their way to this photo op. I look at this picture and I hear someone in our White House giving an order to federal law enforcement officers to fire upon legally-gathered American citizens. I look at this picture and I understand that we are an inconvenience to our leadership.

One side has hijacked God.

The other side still prays.

On Monday, our president said to state governors, “if people are running amok, you have to dominate. …you have to arrest people and you have to try people. And they have to go to jail for long periods of time.” He went on to say, “it's a movement, if you don't put it down it will get worse and worse,” [and], “if a city or state refuses to take the actions that are necessary to defend the life and property of their residents, then I will deploy the United States military and quickly solve the problem for them.” This is incendiary. This is very much a threat. To see opinions and rights as a danger, to label protesters as non-citizens, to fight this perceived fire with the very real promise and execution of fire, to divert attention from real issues and real opportunity, is power and ego run amok; it is a movement, an assertion, of privilege; it is the American way.

One side claims order in law.

The other side braves the shock and awe.

On Tuesday, the White House justified actions with childish excuses, and the political party with limited power condemned actions with imperious righteousness, and the media took sides. And as these blocs jockeyed for position, some lucky individuals from the other side went to work and fumed over injustice and cried over George Floyd, and others not so lucky, sat in living rooms and kitchens and worried over the eviction notice and worried over their next meal and fumed over injustice and cried over George Floyd, and still others even less lucky wandered streets uncertain how they came to be here and uncertain where or if they would sleep tonight and they worried over their next meal and fumed over injustice and cried over George Floyd.

One side pushes with pretentious indignation.

The other side falls back with uncertain trepidation.

On Wednesday, additional and more serious criminal charges were brought against the officers involved in the death of George Floyd. Progress? Maybe. Yes. It is progress, but I remain skeptical of some motives. Working to read between the lines, in my limited and faulty (human) judgement, I believe there are more peaceful protests than there is senseless destruction and I believe there is more thoughtful resistance than there is violent reaction and I believe there are more good cops than there are bad cops; but I also believe that the issues at hand are significantly more systemic than they are extrinsic and I believe the fundamental, essential factor perpetuating the ignorance is a failure in leadership to recognize that there are multiple realities. Until leadership, (i.e. those with power), develop a more humane and widespread sense of empathy and compassion, justice will remain anecdotal.

One side sees rioters.

The other side sees protesters.

On Thursday, police in Vallejo, California continued to refuse to identify the officer who shot five times through his windshield, killing a kneeling Latino man who was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and had a hammer in his pocket. The killing took place just after midnight on Tuesday. The police did not disclose the shooting death until Wednesday. On Thursday I was disheartened and distressed on so many different levels to see multiple pictures of white men and women allowed to openly carry very frightening weapons. Is this the ultimate example of white privilege? White men in Hawaiian shirts applauded for their guns? And a minority Latino man in his hoodie shot and killed for his hammer?

One side sees a hammer as a gun, and a gun as a statement.

The other side feels the bullet.

On Friday, our president began quibbling again with the NFL, expending effort, (as many of our politicians are wont to do), on divisiveness. This is an indicator of de-escalation; a transition from denouncing violence and unrest to denouncing peaceful protest. This is an effort to move us back to a semblance of normalcy; a status quo reflecting the hoped-for weariness and resignation of the other side; every individual neatly layered in their place. This is a distraction; an attempted sleight-of-hand; an avoidance. This is our leadership.

One side takes a knee on the neck of the oppressed.

The other side takes a knee on the flag to protest.

On Saturday, I read the following:

“…while the crowd stood silently, lawmen fired off many canisters of tear gas and waded into the marchers swinging their billy clubs. As one journalist noted, they 'came stomping in behind the gas, gun-butting and kicking the men, women, and children. They were not arresting, they were punishing.’”

(https://snccdigital.org/events/meredith-march/)

These are words that could have been ripped from this week's news; words describing The March Against Fear; a march begun in Memphis, Tennessee and ultimately ending in Jackson, Mississippi; a march that was meant to encourage blacks to register to vote. It was the idea of James Meredith, who was shot by a white racist on the second day of the march, 54 years ago today, June 6, 1966. Mr. Meredith survived, rejoined, and finished the march alongside Martin Luther King Jr., Stokely Carmichael and 15,000 other like-minded citizens of the United States.

One side blames and proudly proclaims.

The other side recovers and marches on.

This week we, as a nation of individuals, suffered; but the fact remains:

One side lives longer and suffers less;

The other side can’t breathe.

When you wake up over and over and over and over and over and over again and you're still not awake, you stop trusting the solidity of reality. You crave light and you get up and go stand in the garage with all the bright lights bathing you, flooding down, but you're still not sure. You see a movement; no; maybe. Too many dark corners. You flee back into the house; to the converted office with the twin bed. Even though the ceiling light is glaring down, you have to open the closet; afraid of what's there. You turn on the closet light, peer into corners, but you can't see everything at once. You leave the closet door ajar and lay on the twin bed, but now you can't see behind it; between the door and the wall. Are you awake? You don't know. There's a quiet snort. But the lights are all on. If they suddenly went off for no reason, you know you will scream; you know they’re going to go off; you're afraid you will die. Your body is tingling from your shoulder blades through your hips to your legs, and arms and the top of your head. The door moves ever so slightly and your brother peeks out from behind. Noooooooo! He shouldn't be here. You know now you're not awake. The closet light goes out. The overhead light goes out. What else? What else! You jump at him, at his shadow; the closet light comes back on; and you take his head in your hands, curling your fingers through his hair and try to smash his head against the wall. You are moving in slow motion, and the wall has give like thick foam rubber, and his face elongates and his neck swivels and his eyes smile up at you and you hope you're not awake. Then there is your Mom. She says she just baked cookies and asks if you would like some in your lunch and you just want to wake up. But instead you sleep. And you open your eyes just a little and you see the play of car lights coming thru the window across the walls, but car lights shouldn't be that bright coming thru that window. Back in the dark bedroom again. Not quite right. You know it's not quite right. And you look across the bed at your brother who's smiling as if he has a secret. You remember he shouldn't be there. And he puts a pillow on your chest and you can't breathe and suddenly there is a weight straddling your chest and you try to turn but you can't move; and a voice comes from where the head should be, but you can't see and you don't understand. Gibberish. And you scream. And this wakes you up. You try to keep your eyes open. But you're so tired. You close them for just a second. You open them again; quickly. Everything looks normal. But are you awake? Were you awake a second ago? You don't know. You feel like you'll never know. You crave light. But you're afraid. And you're so tired. You think, I'll close my eyes for just a second. And you do. And your heart hurts. And you’re so afraid. But you can’t wrest your eyes open. You hear movement; a swishing sound; you try to scream, but all that comes out is a dry click-clacking sound. One eye opens ever-so-slightly, and you see shadows, moving in the dark. How is that possible! Then nothing. Quiet. You ask yourself again; Am I awake? And again. So tired. You fall back asleep, and you dream that you wake up, and it’s the middle of the day; plenty of light; sunshine. Everything appears normal; but you don’t know. Not sure. You wake to sleep and sleep to wake and it no longer makes sense and it no longer matters. You sleep; afraid to wake. Not knowing. Uncertain. You scream. Forever.

I am lacking some fundamental aspect of being; an incompleteness that suppresses appreciation for individual human interaction. This deficiency does not lessen the value I perceive in the individual. I have said many times, and I very strongly believe, that each individual is every bit as necessary as each and every other individual. I believe this lack of appreciation, (or shortcoming as some would see it), is more a reflection of (what I perceive as) the speciousness of most individual human interaction.

To express appreciation for another individual as a connected part of the whole is okay. But to gush over an individual or small group of individuals and not understand their specific individual contribution(s) is not okay. I see anything beyond “Thank you for being here, for being you, and for being part of the whole (or team)” as gushing. Phrases such as “everything you do” and “we couldn’t do it without you” are unnecessary and, (especially if the gusher does not understand the specific individual contribution), manipulative; and thereby, specious.

Like every functioning human I have known, I have a deeply-rooted instinctive desire to be understood. Yet this desire in me, does not come out as an equivalent desire to seek human interaction. I suppose this is partially because when human interaction seeks and finds me, I am too trusting; then I am let down, and disappointed; and then I am angry. Outside of human interaction, this anger maintains and keeps me outside of human interaction. In the interactive moment, I am a sponge soaking up all the understanding, only to become disappointed in the next moment.

So what am I lacking?

Is there a limiting mechanism that aids most individuals in tempering trust? Or perhaps another that tapers anger? Or one that compacts and discards disappointment? Now the question becomes, if I could acquire one or all of these regulating devices, would I choose to do so? Or am I at an advantage with no limitations on my trust, disappointment and/or anger?

I want to believe that my lack of governance is an advantage that helps me to better understand reality; and I want to believe that if more individuals were too trusting, then severely disappointed, and in turn consistently but rationally angry, we, as a species, would exponentially increase our odds of survival, or, at the very least, discover, practice, and work to perfect an ever-evolving, enlightened, living justice. Even if that proverbial meteor, no matter our effort, one day wipes us out, wouldn't it be nice to take care of each other in the moments or days or decades or centuries we do have left?

There is a significant amount of wasteful individual human interaction. Many though would argue that common courtesy and a show of respect is necessary for productivity and progress. This is a valid argument. And I would also agree that gushing can and does encourage and motivate some; perhaps many. But those who are encouraged and motivated by gushing, are being guided (or manipulated) into actions that suit the agenda of the gusher. So as long as the gusher is good and just, I guess that's okay; but we should be skeptical; we should ask questions; and we should not lose sight of personal individual contributions that work more effectively toward goodness and justice.

So where then do we draw this line to halt the advance of individual human interaction? For me, it should definitely be laid down to turn back gushing, and in many instances, I would like to see it deter most unnecessary pleasantries and inanities unless they include applicable and/or compelling humor, or unless they are coming from a very significant other. I also believe that this line should be drawn according to the setting or circumstance. For example, on the job, minimal gushing is to be expected and as discussed above may be necessary; but excessive gushing is likely to be seen by most for what it is—manipulative—and may ultimately be counterproductive. And as also said, pleasantries from a significant other are, well, often very pleasant. And even the occasional gushing from a significant other may be welcome and productive.

Obviously there is no hard or fast rule for extent of individual human interaction. I believe my takeaway from this written thought is not about where to draw the line (especially when interacting with others), but more about encouraging less (human interaction) to accomplish more. Not only would we accomplish more because we would be trading pleasant inanity for the potential of productivity, but I also believe if we allow an unencumbered naïveté to trigger disappointment and in turn strategically stoke a slow-burning rational anger, we are more likely to see reality for what it is.

I don’t believe individual human interaction should be nonexistent; but I do believe that today, there is an inordinate quantity of unnecessary, ineffective, counterproductive, wasteful individual human interaction.

We can do better. We should do better.

I am tired. I am angry. I am realistic about my mortality. I am realistic about the future of humanity. I am most often alone in my thoughts. Yet I remain actively hopeful.

Is my continued effort in the face of reality merely a reflection of my will to survive? Is my anger-driven effort all for naught? Would I be better to pretend that humanity is the preeminent, chosen species, allowing us to dominate and ignore all else? And would I be better to pretend that because I grew up a middle-class white male, I can dominate and/or ignore lesser humans?

There are many who feel better about their self because they do not work to dominate, they simply pretend and ignore. But to pretend is to perpetuate ignorance, and to ignore is to allow continued oppression.

I cannot pretend. I cannot ignore. I have no desire to dominate, but I would very much like to influence. Perhaps this is what I need to consider this week: how to influence compassionately with urgency.

Urgency implies seriousness and demands insistence, which has a likelihood of being interpreted as a desire to dominate. When this urgency is coupled with my anger it increases that likelihood. Yet when I temper the anger to present more calmly and come across more compassionately, the necessary urgency either becomes diluted or disappears entirely. How do I convince others to NOT pretend and ignore when I am judged at one extreme (peacenik) or the other (fanatic)? There has to be a middle road. I have yet to find it.

At some point and at many points in my continued learning and growth I have believed that written thought could temper emotions (such as anger) and aid me in both the delivery of my message and the clarification and advancement of my own thought. And I believe it has; I believe my message is coherent in its written form, but there is no one there to receive it. This is at least partially because one outcome of these past years of weekly written thought, is the recognition and constant, continuous reminders that the more I know, the more I know I don’t know. And this certainty of uncertainty, coupled with the fact that I have no audience, nor the confidence to seek an audience, contributes to the compassionate urgency dichotomy dilemma I find myself in today.

I can no longer not express myself in this medium. I am afraid that if I were to stop, my anger would dominate my compassion, and my urgency would be overwhelmed by my sense of reality, resulting in the death of my active hope, leaving only an inanimate shell of passive belief. And I believe that this hope by itself, stagnant and stinking, is of no value. And though my current efforts toward learning and growth, (i.e. active hope), is also of no apparent value to others, it has become quite valuable to me.

Though I have in the past, written to convince myself to stay the path, as I said above, I don't believe that is this week's purpose. I am not questioning my habit; I am questioning how to repurpose my habit in order to influence compassionately with urgency. But I am uncertain; if this weekly-written-thought habit ever did gain an audience, would it be perceived as 1) quiet, sad desperation, 2) the frantic ravings of an urgent anger, 3) merely an effort to justify my existence, or 4) an actual, sincere effort to save the world?

But if rational, coherent written thought is not the solution I seek, is it the middle road I seek? And am I just somehow implementing it incorrectly? Or is there another nearby middle road that will encourage acknowledgement of and attention to reality? Expertise and science are great candidates for middle roads, but are frequently dry, boring, and difficult to understand, and do not instill the sense of urgency necessary for change and progress. Pretended expertise may instill a sense of urgency, but it is never a true middle road; it is a detour to a dead end. I have seen both small and large crises and catastrophes, such as a hurricane or job loss or a pandemic, serve as a short-term wake-up call forcing us to listen to actual science and expertise, but invariably, after a given period of time, we tend to return to normal or find a new normal and then continue to pretend and ignore. I do not know how to induce a constant, consistent necessity for urgency.

So, if contemplative, rational written thought (including science, expertise, and passionate pleas for urgency based on actual science and expertise) is a middle road, how do I encourage more travelers? This direction of thought tells me that perhaps I have been missing the point. Perhaps the middle road is not “my” written thought; perhaps the middle road is “all” serious, rational written thought. And perhaps my contribution to this effort is the passion and compassion with which I read and write and study and learn. Perhaps my written thought is merely a very narrow footpath on this much wider thruway; which makes sense as I am constantly seeking growth by frequently changing lanes, speeding up, slowing down, taking detours and exits, and learning the landscape. I believe traffic is heavier today than 30, 20 or even 10 years ago. And I don’t believe it is heavier only because of greater numbers of people. I believe as a species we find value in learning and growth, more so now than at any time in our history. We are being actively hopeful.

The process of written thought can temper emotion, yet, with practice, will also allow for emotional expression. Anger, urgency and compassion can each be given their due in an attentive and serious exercise of written thought. So, in this moment, if my ability to influence compassionately with urgency, is only my ability to influence myself compassionately with urgency, so be it; I am making a contribution to the necessary flow of learning and growth.

But that does not feel as if it is enough. It will take more than just me, (not pretending, not ignoring, learning and growing, skeptically confident and actively hopeful, within a massive entanglement of uncertainty), to save the world. And though I acknowledge that there are many other passionate learners out there, and I believe this number is growing, today this still does not feel as if it is enough.

I just realized…

I am not seeing the challenge for what it is. I am working here to find a way to influence compassionately with urgency, but how can one influence an inanimate shell of passive belief? To influence, I must first revive. How difficult is that? With rare exception, a zombie apocalypse can only end in the death of a sufficient number to enable control and/or containment. Either the humans are holed up in fortified outposts, or the zombies are killed or mostly killed with the remainder corralled in giant zombie playpens. Seldom is a protagonist able to cajole a zombie.

Wow!

Zombies are single-minded, and difficult to impossible to deter; though I believe they can be fairly easily distracted. Additionally, in most zombie apocalypse stories I am peripherally aware of, I don’t believe zombies die of natural causes. In recent years we have had varying, sporadic success distracting them and/or keeping them in their playpens; so, to me, (because I am not up to the challenge of killing zombies), to distract and to corral appears our only hope. And my job continues to be learning and growth and working to encourage and influence other humans who seek encouragement and influence, and/or those who have yet to be bitten and turned.

So, we give up on the zombies? I know of no way to revive them. I want to believe that deep, deep down in a darkest recess of a zombie soul, there is a desire to come back to life. And I want to believe that somewhere in the folds and crevices of the largely dormant matte gray that serves as the zombie brain, there is a spark of capability to come back to life. But I also believe that this desire and this spark can only be reached and fused by the zombie. Efforts (such as this paragraph) to reach this possibility from the outside, are much more likely to drown their desire, douse their spark, and fuel their single-mindedness.

So, we give up on the zombies.

To some, it may seem impertinent, rude, or even irreverent to turn this thought from a sincere desire for compassionate influence with urgency, to zombies, but by doing so it may help me to focus my effort. If I can identify those single-minded individuals I am unable to influence, and those power structures within which I am ignored, perhaps I can repurpose my habit to benefit those learners who seek encouragement and influence. Most days, and most weeks “those learners” are an exclusive coalition of one; my weekly-written-thought habit is of value only to me. But I continue to learn and grow, and in some small way, that is a contribution.