hopelesshappiness.com

Recently I was asked to cite support for details for essential outcomes for micro-credentials for stacks for a construct that would enable more efficient learning and growth. This was a system being built to disencumber and elucidate. When I was first tasked with this challenge, I worked from the citation, of course reading the detail, and sometimes working up and out to the essential outcomes and surrounding details. During this time, I was most interested in a quantity of citations, resulting in (at times) a more superficial, cursory glance at the overall connective why. The results were adequate. Who reads the citations anyway? Right?

I struggled with this. If the foundation is cheap and not deep, it will eventually crumble and weaken the structure. And if I am expected to speak with some authority, I had better go beyond Google and Wikipedia and I had better attain some small degree of proficiency enabling greater confidence. And from the beginning, I did utilize scholarly, peer-reviewed journal articles from Google Scholar and ProQuest and Science Direct and ERIC and SAGE... So from the beginning I did speak with some authority, but my citations and descriptions seemed to me to be lacking… something.

More recently, working through 32 citations for 16 details for 5 essential outcomes for 1 particular micro-credential, I realized that it was not so much the work that was lacking; it was me. Though I was parroting authority, personally I was lacking the depth of understanding necessary for me to connect with… well… everything. I needed to work top down, not bottom up. So I began reading, and studying, information not always specifically relevant to the detail, but it ultimately led me to the detail, thus strengthening the foundation and stabilizing the entire construct. It also took longer.

…in some cases, much longer.

I was on a deadline.

Suddenly… (…it seemed suddenly), I was in trouble.

Looking back at the previous work, because I had cited authoritative authorities, my descriptive paragraphs were still solid; and useful; they served their purpose; but overall, some seemed more distant and detached and they did seem to lack some personal nuance and style; (not that there is a lot of nuance and style to be added to verbiage describing scholarly, peer-reviewed journal articles supporting details for essential outcomes for micro-credentials for stacks for a construct that would enable more efficient learning and growth).

So knowing the previous work was solid, and any little bit of personal nuance and style would likely go largely unnoticed anyway, I settled into a routine of reading (more briefly with fewer tangents) from the top down and allowing the authorities to speak, all the while ensuring that I maintained a basic understanding of the essential connective why.

I no longer felt like I was wading in the kiddie pool, but I also certainly was not 300 yards offshore, in the Gulf of Mexico, alone, with no life vest; at night; surrounded by storm clouds.

It was okay, this acknowledgement of time constraints; none of us really have all the time in the world. But still, I am a big fan of depth; and challenge; at night; surrounded by storm clouds; thinking about sharks.

I have always felt it important to go into a task seeking nothing less than perfection, and though I believe that in this human form perfection is unattainable, it is not this consideration that should rein me in, but rather the specific constraints of the specific task. I believe this is an important, perhaps vital distinction.

To seek perfection is a process that begins with an assessment of where a particular task or grouping of tasks is at in the current moment. An aspect of this assessment that comes about naturally is an identification of those process ingredients that are not working at all and those that are not working well. Throughout this consideration, reality frequently dictates a continuation of the old process and a simultaneous reworking of various tasks to ultimately create a new process. This layering of effort adds (sometimes exponentially) to the demands and requirements of the job. And this is why some come into a new task asking, “how have we always done it” and they stay on this traditional, well-worn path that has been cleared and beaten back by predecessors. Improvement requires increased effort. Perfection requires incremental, never-ending improvement. In my life I have never come across a perfect process.

I have immensely enjoyed the learning that has accompanied the citation / detail / essential outcome / micro-credential / stack / construct process, but I did, (to a degree), lose my way. In seeking perfection, I cannot lose sight of the destination. No matter the platitudes about the journey, there must be a destination, (i.e. accomplishment), in order to advance. Once that destination is reached, I have found that if the results are improved, from predecessors following the beaten path, or from expectations, one might be allowed to wander a bit more on the way to the next prescribed destination; especially in the early stages of the journey. I must listen completely to the task and its caretakers to gauge the potential for productive wandering and to not become lost. Though I have found that if I am not allowed some freedom to wander, I eventually tend to wander off.

In addition to constraints determined by other custodians, I must also be aware of constraints I place upon myself. To seek perfection, I must find a balance between confidence and doubt; I must acknowledge and recognize personal shortcomings; I must realistically temper my perceived strengths; I must counter emotional hemorrhage.

Each task will have constraints. And each individual's idea of perfection will differ from another’s and will change with changing circumstance. This week I made a cheesecake. For me it was near perfection. I have been playing with cheesecake recipes for months. I have found that only 1 egg and 1 tablespoon of flour to 3 blocks of cream cheese, 1 cup of sour cream, 1 cup of sugar and no flavor additions is very close to ideal; for me. Others may prefer 3 eggs and 3 tablespoons of flour, less cream cheese, and additional ingredients such as chocolate, or caramel, or peanut butter, or a fruit, or a combination. Though I can't imagine, others may prefer chocolate cake.

But even in this week's throes of cheesecake ecstasy, I still maintain that perfection is unattainable. I am confident that there remains potential to improve.

A best effort is only a best effort, so far.

The rich get richer, the poor get dead. If you are paying attention, you know this to be true. Of course throughout all of history, regardless of that day's standard for rich, this has always been true. Eventually though, the rich also get dead. So perhaps more simply put, the rich live longer; and suffer less. In the end, we are the same.

Many would disagree that in the end we are the same. And I cannot argue for or against any aspect of being in the end. I don't know the actuality of beyond. But I can argue that to live this life, on this planet, as if in the end we are all the same, creates a greater likelihood of more fair and more just resources, actions and outcomes on-this-planet. And I can argue that those who believe their privilege in this life will carry them to privilege beyond this life, regardless of if they are right or wrong, are not giving this life its due.

To sit and wait for justice, believing my confidence will prove me right and others wrong, is objectively risky. I am human and I am wrong on a daily, sometimes hourly (or more) basis. I am simultaneously privileged and cursed with this life on this planet; perhaps I should focus on this life on this planet, because if I do not, and if I am wrong within my confident privilege, I may be surprised at the end.

Because I have wealth and power, or some other form of privilege real or imagined, in my mind does not logically equate to an assurance of any kind. To consider a possibility beyond this actuality has become an entanglement of our nature; as has the concept of us and them. And I argue that this deadly combination will continue to create injustice and do harm. I believe it is more logical to work as one toward justice, goodness and survival. It makes sense to me that if there is a judgement day beyond this life on this planet, I will be judged on resources I have provided, actions I have taken, and outcomes I have influenced, here, on-this-planet. I refuse to believe that I will be judged on my wealth, power and/or any real or imagined privilege.

Yet so many with wealth and power expend so much effort justifying their privilege, reassuring their ego and maintaining status quo, that progress toward justice, goodness and survival is much slower and more arduous than it need be. Again, those with wealth and power are not giving this life its due.

Again, to live this life, on this planet, as if in the end we are all the same, creates a greater likelihood of more fair and more just resources, actions and outcomes, on-this-planet.

And again, regardless of desire or belief, this life on this planet is what matters most.

I can do this life justice only by believing that in the end, we are all the same

As the curve flattens, our president is working very hard to spout enough contradiction so he may blame others for what goes wrong and take credit for what goes right. The saddest part of this is that there are a significant number of people who will allow him to get away with this, and many of those will applaud him for it, and many of those will believe him. I wish I had a better handle on the actual numbers. Are most of half of us in this regard, truly ignorant? Or is it one-third (each) of half of us that are equally a) simply choosing the lesser of evils based on entrenched bias, b) calculating, mean and stupid, and c) ignorant. I could make a case that in this specific instance, with this specific president, (a) and (c) are the same thing. And of those I personally know who are supporters, I want to give benefit of the doubt and believe they are in group A. One could also argue that the other half of us can be categorized in the same way. But I believe most individuals in a given half would re-characterize their groupings as a) realistic, b) winners, c) loyal followers. Look closely and it is obvious that the (a)’s, (b)'s and (c)’s are synonymous; merely an interpretive perspective. But in the arena of politics, (most especially national politics), we must choose one half or the other; that is reality. As a voter, I have only two choices. Yet I believe in most endeavors there are finer gradations, transcending halves and groupings, moving from objective expertise through the ego to simple ignorance. The (a), (b), (c) groupings above begin in the ego and move to ignorance. I should reach beyond ego and ignorance, seeking objective expertise, yet understand that I will always be far more ignorant than knowledgeable and there is no shame in not knowing. Stupidity, on the other hand, is a choice, and I see most (if not all) politicians and political activists in group B, working to convince voters that there are only two choices on any given issue. It is much easier to pretend to have the answer when the question is simplified to either/or. In reality, questions and answers are much more complex with gradations, implications and unforeseen considerations. To change and improve reality, we must acknowledge ignorance, avoid stupidity, and we must not be ignorant of reality. Today, those in power are completely ignorant of most realities.

Those in power today, will not be in power tomorrow; (tomorrow being some unknown future date). But when tomorrow comes, will we have learned the lessons of today? Or will we have simply moved to a slightly lesser evil and continue to frame reality as either/or. Reality today is complex. Our government should somehow reflect that complexity. Not in additional divisive, political agencies and regulations, (complexity does not equal bureaucratic complications), but in the utilization of more diverse and equitable objective expertise. This must start with the voter. If enough of us acknowledge our own ignorance, avoid stupidity (i.e. politics), and recognize objective expertise, perhaps we can begin to vote accordingly and somehow save the world. I have said all this before, and my headache is only getting worse; (the brick wall is a harsh and cruel inamorata).

The reality of a moment is different from the reality of a decade which is different from the reality of a lifetime which is different from the reality of my grandchildren which is different from the reality of human existence.

The reality of the moment often appears to present a simple either/or.

When I consider a one-year, five-year or ten-year plan, the moment is slowed, I become more thoughtful, perhaps more calculating, perhaps more selfish, I am faced with more choices, and this reality of the span forces me to consider consequence.

When I consider my lifetime, I think about right and wrong, good and bad, I think about my legacy, and I may become fearful, or sad and regretful, or curmudgeonly, or I may change my ways, I may become more pleasant, outgoing, cheerful, kind, or I may become defensive and burrow into a delusion, but regardless, this reality of my lifetime forces me to become serious, even if it is only in that final breath.

When I consider my grandchildren and their grandchildren, I see uncertainty and I feel empathy and sorrow, and I see the possibility and I am hopeful and cautiously confident that they will find their way, that we and/or they will have learned lessons from this moment, that it is not too late, and in this reality of the near future beyond me, my hope becomes active.

When I consider all human existence, I see grandeur and futility, I see learning and greed and ego, I see the ebb and flow of progress and retreat and inertia, I see a struggle to survive and coexist and dominate and understand, I see the simultaneous necessity and insignificance of me, I imagine the beginning and I imagine both an end and a continuation; in this reality of human existence, I am torn between why and why not.

In a given moment, each individual must decide which of these parallel realities to call upon for strength and guidance. I would argue that the moment is all fluff and bluster, and the span can be a trap set by the ego that can be tempered by the lifetime, and the lifetime alone may bring on fear and delusion masquerading as kind and good, and the near future is likely ineffective without some consideration of span and perhaps a spoonful of lifetime, and to consider all human existence is a valuable solitary pursuit.

I began this thought hoping to better understand the reality of our president, and those who support him and those who encourage him and those who believe him; and I believe I do have a better understanding. In politics, which is defined as any struggle for power, reality does not move beyond ego, our president resides in the moment, some of the lesser evils consider the span, and any forays into the lifetime are superficial, cursory excursions mostly in and around the shadowy extremities. I began this thought thinking that politics is a reality unto itself, but perhaps politics is better characterized as (at its worst) the reality of the moment or (at its best) the reality of a span. To consider beyond these granularities, power is afraid would create a potential in which it may lose its edge. To consider beyond these granularities is not politics, it is serious, egoless, active hope. To consider beyond these granularities is necessary for survival.

Last night we sat in the backyard for the first time this season, occupying two of the six chairs surrounding our glass-top table with umbrella situated two summers ago in the sunshine upon a rectangle of 12 faux brick tiles bought at Wal-Mart for $3.48 each. We talked, we listened to music, (U2 Joshua Tree); we read some. My wife read her fiction and I read one of my books that make me angry over the state of the world; that is all I seem to read these days. I readied the grill for her hamburger and for my tuna steak. We heard neighbors in their backyard, two houses down and one over; a chess move for a knight. New neighbors perhaps; we could not remember them from last summer. Winter pulls a blind down over proximity. Of course, in backyard seasons we merely twirl the wand and peer between the slats. We will never know this new young couple; their history, their hopes, their dreams, much less their names. They were working in their future flower or (perhaps) vegetable garden. When female partner pulled off her t shirt to a modest, unrevealing sports bra getup, my wife dubbed her naked girl; and with male partner already stripped to a pair of shorts, he naturally became naked guy. I started, (but then decided it was not necessary), to remind my wife of times not so many years ago when we were naked girl and naked guy. Forty years was not so many years ago; and I am confident my wife remembers.

When it became chilly enough for naked girl to put her t shirt back on, we moved from the breezy openness of the backyard to the less breezy patio, enclosed on three sides and furnished with a round rickety bamboo table and two generic tan outdoor chairs. It was also more private, (I suspect only one or two neighbors could see us, as we peered back and forth through our respective slats). Though privacy on this night was not really a concern, (our music, our books, our mode of dress, my wife's wine, nor my beer were in the least offensive or intrusive), there is some comfort in drawing blinds.

I started the fire, seasoned and patted out three burgers, (one for my wife's dinner, one for her lunch tomorrow, and one as week-old sacrifice to our kitchen wastegod – it is our way), and I oiled and seasoned two tuna steaks for myself. I solemnly introduced the burgers to the grill, staggered the spatualistic tintinnabulation of the tuna steaks accordingly, and we sat, enjoying the smells of charring meat and wood smoke.

I am a pescatarian. I have not eaten meat now for nearly three years; or is it two? I remember the date, (April 27), but I’m not sure of the year. I could figure it out because my last day of meat consumption, April 27, was a Thursday. But for whatever reason(s), I am okay not knowing.

• I feel compelled to note though that I have consumed meat twice in this time; once when Cracker Barrel slipped some ham shreds in my greens, and once purposefully when I respectfully grilled and enjoyed a 3 ounce deer steak gifted from a hunter.

Regardless, to go along with the protein, we cooked and buttered some corn, baked some fries, and we heated some leftover mac and cheese. We plated our food, retired to the living room, put on a British crime drama from Netflix and we enjoyed a satisfying meal.

We rested.

This morning, I walked.

Before 6am, even this busy corner of the world in which I reside, is quieter. A world in quarantine is even quieter. I crossed a patchwork parking lot emptied of cars. Previously, even before 6am, the fitness center justifying the parking lot was packed with people now unfit to work out; immune systems afraid of being too weak to resist. We protest. We all protest; but some are too weak for self-control. Even when I intend to avoid politics, it creeps in.

Typically, I walk to think. This week I want to walk and act and work to observe, and report; I want to reduce my complexity of thought. This is difficult for me. I have grown accustomed to digging deep and filtering the dirt through my trembling fingers, watching for the anomaly, and questioning the consensus. I want to close my eyes to the obvious so I may open my mind to the possible. I want to walk without seeing, without observation.

For me, observation has always been extraneous. I think it saddens my wife that I cannot speak to the color of someone's eyes, or that I cannot comment on or appreciate the new blooms on the tulip tree in our backyard. Or is it the front yard? Is it even a tulip tree? Do they grow here? Are they even a thing? I don't know.

Perhaps observation for me is only important when it aids in the accomplishment of something. The shading on the top of the burger being cooked with smoke and indirect heat telling me when it is time to flip. The crisping of lost cheese, telling me to find it. The angry tone of the homeless man and the implied or imagined threat, telling me to calmly and politely continue walking. He asked me why I was out here walking and if I had eaten breakfast and if I had money. He asked me if my phone has a tracker on it. He was both ragged and rugged; some 20 or so years younger, with a gruff growth of beard and an urgency. He came from the Jewell Cemetery, State Historic Site, where I imagine he had spent the night. After ten minutes of this tandem Q & A, I went right; he stayed his path.

Then after a stop at the coffee shop for my Americano, (20 ounce, 4 shots, no room – they know me now), I walked on and had to backtrack 50 yards to see the sculpted metal dinosaurs holding their Easter baskets, wearing their bunny ears. My wife loves those dinosaurs and their ever-changing costumery. I never see them. She told me to look.

I understand anger. I am not sure I understand random and/or thoughtless confrontation.

Another morning, another walk. Another day, a few smiles, a laugh or two, fresh tears, work, food, drink, conversation, rest, life, death, comfort in routine, added disappointment.

Where I see the disappointment of miscalculation, some see absolution and their own salvation. When I anguish over their effusion, they languish in their delusion. Where I see opportunity for amelioration, they countenance passive preservation. Where I seek respectfully skeptical collaboration, cooperation, and expert investigation, I am met with righteous indignation and subjected to angry confrontation. When I work toward less complex cogitation and more complete observation, I am distracted; I am disappointed.

We should do better. We could do better. I miscalculate daily; perhaps hourly. Exponential disappointment.

Another day.

And another day.

Last night I made some good soup and bad sandwiches for dinner. The soup, a hearty white bean and quinoa vegetable soup from a Mary McCartney cookbook, was warm, filling and satisfying. I lost track of the sandwiches. Typically, I put the bread on and add cheese a little at a time, gauging the ideal amount for the moment. Last night, turning the griddle up too high, I was unable to add cheese as they warmed because the bread was immediately toasty. The result: too little cheese encased in slightly ashen, somewhat scorched bread. I typically take pride in my grilled cheese sandwich. This was far from my best effort.

About four-grilled-cheese-efforts-ago, I stumbled across a marvelous accident. I found myself burning my fingertips trying to snatch strands of cheese escaping from the bread. They were transforming into delightful little needle-nibbles of crunchy cheesy goodness. From there I found that coarsely grated block cheddar cheese, (I prefer sharp), in a half-dollar size mound, (no more than 1/8 to 1/4 inch high), placed directly on the griddle and allowed to melt down and brown on the underneath, then flipped and crisped, becomes a scrumptious, rich and sensuous cheese cracker on steroids. Lost cheese, found.

Another day.

Last night my wife asked if my worsening vertigo this week was masking a different problem. It has happened before. I changed the subject; not to hide anything, but because, (my observation skills being what they are), I wanted to consider her question – carefully.

I don't think so. No numbness and tingling traveling up and across like before.

A future tragedy? Or a non-event? If a non-event, is the worry, the concern, the conversation wasted? I prefer to think of it as misplaced; and at times over-dramatized. Mortality is a consideration, but it should not be a fixation.

After my walk, readying for work, I put on one of my slim-fit shirts I found in the back of my closet, worn regularly but a few months ago. It was fairly easily buttoned and not uncomfortable, and if I were going in to work instead of sitting, working at the kitchen bar, I might have put on a tie to cover the slight bubbling and stretching-apart down the line of buttons. But I decided that it was better to acknowledge the reality of this new day; and perhaps work toward the future. Will the dissection reconnect? Or will the unentangled grow further apart?

And another day.

Last night my wife pulled a Tupperware container out of the fridge and said, “this burger is nearly a week old. I think I should throw it out.” I agreed.

It is our way…

I did some good work this week. First I spun some loops and dazzled the bedazzled. Then I mixed some truth with couth and triangulated the uncoangular. Then I soothed some savage and orchestrated an opus. In between I seethed and slung and simmered and shaped; I queried and quiesced and quailed and quartered; I challenged and championed and chewed and checkered; I growled and groaned and grappled and grieved.

Next week may not be so varied; or productive. That proverbial flow may be more elusive. Regardless, this week means nothing to next week. Next week will come and go with nary a nod to this week nor a nevermind to the following week. The same is true of days and hours and minutes and moments. The same is true of thoughts and decisions and actions and happenstance. The same is not true of those we care for and those they care for and those who are nearby and those who are far away and those who have influence and those who are powerless and those who glory and those who fear and those who suffer. Connections. It is good to remember and care and love, and at the same time understand the dispassionate plodding of moments and years and centuries and happenstance. When I think and decide and act it is okay to nod and pay heed, but it must be done with intent to carry the lessons forward into the next week or day or moment. Last week does not care. Next week cannot care. This week is fleeting. And though it may be that the existence of Humanity is also fleeting, it is what we've got. Having learned from the past, I live in the moment, for the future.

We don't have the past, or even this moment; it is gone. What we have is Humanity and the future. Every week should be a good week; and when it is gone, (with a giant Pffft and Pop!), we should carry the best of the remnants forward to next week.

Remnants and shards; all that is left of yesterday. The totality and simplicity of a human connection; from yesterday to today to tomorrow.

It is what we've got.