Millenarianism Is For Chumps

In a class on medieval European history, I came across the ideology of millenarianism/millennialism - the belief that the world as we know it was ending, ushering in the utopia laid out in the Bible, where Jesus would reign as king of mankind for 1000 years (yet, only after an apocalyptic event, usually with the coming of the anti-Christ and Revelations-style awfulness for the inhabitants of Earth). Although such beliefs are often associated with Christianity, the idea that "the end is nigh" is universal across human civilizations. The anxiety of the "end of an era" has led to various last-ditch efforts to save the "old guard" from the new. Yet, the winds of change are not, in my opinion, random gusts. Change is cumulative. To continue with the cliches, the writing is always on the wall long before we notice it. Which, specifically, brings us to the present day: the Sybils of our time are not prescient; their cries are echoes of shit we haven't been able to fix in the past and have been compounded on for centuries.

Thus, there has yet to be a great revelation of truth to rock the modern world. I am not holding my breath that there ever will be either. Many people- from Alex Jones to the most pious among us- seek an overarching explanation to connect the disjointed misery that is human existence. In my historical studies, there as never been any such explanation to...anything. To believe such an answer exists shows an unwillingness to face the mess of reality. I used to be the person who said, "I wish I could believe in x...," usually as a response to someone asking me whether or not I was religious. At this point in my life, I can't honestly answer that I even wish I believed in anything. Through years of observation and experience, there has been nothing that has ever struck me as worth believing in. The abject silence of the universe in light of so many impassioned screams for help and of despair aimed at it, day after day, year after year, millennium after millennium, seems answer enough.

In a time where everything is easily visible, when there is more transparency than ever before, I note more and more the tendency of so many to dig their heels deeper into the earth around them. Why? Things are so readily verifiable! Why cling to what you can feel rather than what you can know? Despite most of us carrying around a "magic truth-machine"  in our pockets that can quickly assert whether what we're faced with is true or false, we instead use it as a mirror to reflect what we desire the world to be.

Oh..so obviously, then, everyone is using technology to see the world through rose-colored glasses, we live in a consensual, Utopian version of the Matrix, and hooray! The conundrum of the human condition is...solved...?

Not so fast....using Americans as an example, just scroll through Facebook or Twitter - it seems as though EVERYONE is upset all the time. It's not simply a left-right divide, or a generational one. Everyone has something to complain about. So why would anyone choose to reflect the bad back at themselves? Why would someone want to see the world as a place of despair?

Well....? Whether we acknowledge it consciously or not, there's an intrinsic dread about impending mortality within all biological beings. While many of us would take pains to not be hit by a car barreling down the street toward us, some of the same "many" willingly engage in risky behaviors like smoking, eating poorly, not exercising, having unprotected sex, et al [list every danger from public school health classes here]. Typically, we'll avoid the big no-nos, but willingly ignore the little ones that incrementally affect our chances at survival. Similarly, seeing "others" as the problem allows us to forego some of the blame ourselves. Additionally, we're all suffering from a shared learned helplessness. Our problems are too big, too complex to even begin facing them, so why bother at all? On top of that, our leaders are unable to offer solutions, our purchases are only providing comfort with minimal satisfaction and therefore, why not simply shriek insults at anonymous commenters online by HOLDING DOWN YOUR CAPS KEY? Or better yet, curl up into fetal position and scroll through endless pictures of brunch or cute kittens? So many questions, and yet, I'm blogging instead of community organizing....? So what's my point if I am not moving and shaking myself?

Even thinking about the state of affairs through the lens of social media is anxiety-provoking. So, first of all, breathe. The idea that every resource is scarce and we're all in competition so we have to be "on" all the time is toxic. It's also a fabrication. There's enough to go around. We'd have to consider different modes of existence from what is in effect now, which is scary.

Secondly, can we take the "millenarianism" down....a bit? Everyone and everything has always sucked. Awful people have been in power...forever. Humans have always been self-absorbed and narcissistic. The only difference now is that technology has actually worked to make these tendencies more apparent. So next time you're compelled to share an out-of-context meme or "factoid" from "Liberal Meme Stash" or "Conservative Meme Bank" or whatever subscribed pages pop up on your newsfeed, please don't. If sharing it didn't save the world, not sharing it isn't going to burn it down.

Finally, instead of caving to the pressure to give in or give up, laugh. Laugh in the face of the absurd challenge of being alive. As far as anyone can actually experientially can tell you, this is a one-time deal. There's no pressure to find happiness and purpose in each moment of every day. But, even in the drudgery of commuting to work or the mundanity of a Monday evening at home, find something to revel in - regard the sunset a minute longer, smell your child's freshly washed hair, curl up with your pet....you get the idea.

 

"This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." -Camus
 

Zen and the Art of Raising Children

Hands down the most influential book I have ever read is Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I suffered through the first 50 pages or so for the book to take off and was so glad I did  afterward. The story of Robert Pirsig's mental breakdown, its effect on his family, career and outlook, as well as his recovery, put into perspective the emphasis our society puts on the "image" of success and having it all together. Pirsig underwent electroshock therapy to "cure" him of his neuroses. In the aftermath, he felt wiped of his personality, like an actor playing a part in his life. Part of his re-connection with his family (his son, Chris, in particular) is the basis for the substance of the book - the motorcycle road trip. One of the complaints his son had after his treatments was that his dad wasn't his dad anymore. Despite his dad being "unstable" prior to EST, he was also fun, interesting and loving. As Pirsig and his tween son travel together, he finally understands the full impact of his illness and recovery on his son's life. Their connection reforms and grows ever stronger as a result of the discoveries both of them make about themselves and the world through their shared experience.

Obviously, the book touches on so many more topics, but the afterword that was written a decade or so later refocuses the work to make their relationship so much more poignant - it was written after his son's death. Chris was randomly (and fatally) stabbed in San Francisco while leaving a Zen center at the age of 22.  In the wake of his death, in Pirsig's own words, "I go on living, more from force of habit than anything else" [Thinking about my own child, I could not agree more with this sentiment. There would be times of great grief, no doubt, if my closest friends or family members passed, but the loss of my child would be a crushing experience]. Pirsig continues on, writing that his second child, conceived accidentally, almost did not come into this world (his wife and he had originally agreed to terminate the pregnancy) but now that she was here, her life-force was one and the same as his son. His imagery of a death being a hole in the pattern of life makes sense of the loss felt without turning to gods or the inexplicable (especially important for someone who isn't interested in supernatural explanations) . In fact, I'd take his thoughts on his daughter one step further, though I think he gets there too - being in the presence of a child is wondrous. Their tiny existence has not yet been pressed upon by thousands of interactions (good, bad and mundane) and so they radiate pure life. When you ask someone to strip life down to what's most valuable, for most people, the answer will never be, "my iphone" or "my yacht" or some other material possession. A much more likely answer will be, "time with my children/partner/family." Yet in our daily interactions, something so basic as human connection gets pushed aside by the demands of our society - material possessions, career, prestige, ambition, image, and so on. 

After being around children in almost every job I've ever had, having a significantly younger brother and raising my own child, I can tell you one thing for certain - children represent raw material. Young children especially haven't been initiated into our societal norms yet and so they're amazing to watch. In fact, they often seem downright weird. Eating food off the floor? Sure. Rubbing their noses on the rug? Absolutely. Riding the cat? Yes. We put children in schools, organized activities, church groups, et al., to inculcate them into what we consider to be "acceptable." Sure, it's cute when they do wacky stuff at 2, less so at 12 and definitely not at all by time they're 22.

Recently, I read an article in New York magazine about the trend of parents turning to "coaches" to "fix" their children and families' home lives. The upper middle and upper classes are no strangers to spending money to give their children a leg up. I understand the idea of wanting to help your child in any way possible. Yet, as an educator, I can attest, from years of experience, that the most important thing you can give a child is your time. Children develop at their own pace - there are average experiences you can read about in books that may provide you with an idea of when your child will develop a particular skill or hit a certain milestone, but human development is not hard science in the way determining the velocity of a falling object is. Strangely, toward the end of the article, the author of the piece equates the swim lessons she pays for to the life-coach for a toddler in a wealthier neighborhood. She posits these two "extravagances" as a difference of degree rather than a difference of kind. I could not disagree more. Swimming skills have the potential to save someone's life. A life coach for a small child is a bunch of image-boosting bullshit. The "raw material" of childhood is just too good to not be tapped into as another market. Fears of one's child falling behind, being less talented or special in some way is just too much to bear, especially if one has the means to make it different. In reality, most small children don't need to have a coach for anything other than loosely organized sports like t-ball. They'd benefit more from time to explore the world around them with a supportive guardian nearby. The less time they have being penned inside with adults who monitor and correct their every move, the better. This trend is mirrored by the many day-cares and preschool facilities that promote play over academics. Sure, it's probably a cycling trend (and next year, baby Calculus will be all the rage), but hopefully it will be around for a while.

Of course we want to make sure our children are socialized enough to be able to function in wider society, but do we ever ask if we've gone too far? The pace and shallowness of modern, post-industrial life leaves many people with the same neuroses of those living under extreme physical duress. We're not living in a culture of scarcity by any means, yet people report feeling anxiety at the levels of unprecedented in historical record. We have the material comforts but we are still afraid. Why?

One answer may lie in the removal of spontaneity from our lives. With more and more connectedness through improved technology, we gain knowledge, but we also lose an ability to wonder. We can know immediately: who's calling, what's in our mailbox, where we're going, what song is playing next, if someone we'd jive with amorously is on the same block as us...We live in a world of potentials that are often never actualized, maybe because they are right there in front of us, so easy to find. The "chase" is gone. There's only the capture. Everything has been calibrated, ergonomically created, means-tested for us. And sometimes what we want IS the chase, the messiness and the whimsy of life.

The same metaphor of chase/capture can be applied to child-rearing. The chase approach allows a child to explore their options.The guardian offers guidance and support. The capture approach is an attempt to achieve the image of what the guardian thinks the child should be - an end goal has been preset. When the child veers off the path, we push them back on, no matter what. This pressures both parties to potentially be something they're not. It initiates the child into the anxiety of an adult world predicated on scarcity of resources (both emotional and material), when in fact we're living in a country where resources are truly not scarce at all. As teacher, I have sat through countless meetings and heard politicians wax on about the importance of everyone taking honors classes, going to college, securing "prestigious" employment and it makes me roll my eyes. Hard. Not everyone is cut out for academic life. Or for life as a professional. Some of  my students are better with their hands, or have great people skills, or are budding musicians, and yet, most of them are told that the same path is ahead of them, whether they want to pursue it or not. Why can we not allow life to be a journey, bumps and all?

I leave you with Pirsig's words, as I think he taps into the Sisyphean nature of life and human existence on the whole but assures us its worth weathering the storms (both as individuals and as a species)."Nell teaches aspects of parenthood never understood before. If she cries or makes a mess or decides to be contrary (and these are relatively rare), it doesn't bother. There is always Chris's silence to compare it to. What is seen now so much more clearly is that although the names keep changing and the bodies keep changing, the larger pattern that holds us all together goes on and on. In terms of this larger pattern the lines at the end of this book still stand. We have won it. Things are better now. You can sort of tell these things." - Robert Pirsig, ZAMM

Itinerant

“So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?” - Hunter S. Thompson

I have a recurring vision of living on a desolate piece of land in the desert. The lack of civilization and of life in general - like a Martian landscape, wholly alien to the lush, temperate shorefronts and woodlands within walking distance from my home - provides me with the comfort that total peace is achievable. Surely death is representative of that peace, but its finality prevents me from pursuing that end.
My actual existence has headed in an opposing path - sprouting roots that keep me in suburban New Jersey. These roots prevent me, through an admixture of guilt and fear, from moving to an Earthship in Taos, New Mexico. Would I give up a job, a marriage, a child, stability for an unknown? I wonder about the ability we all have to take that leap and whether or not I'd ever.
Conceivably, we live through thousands of fictional ends in our own minds - maybe some of us repress those thoughts as not to have them (untidily) infringe on the controlled experiment we call life. Some of us indulge, but only along "safer" avenues that pose little threat to the current flow. A few will choose to live in what looks like complete wantonness or even chaos to the rest of us, because their "boxes" are not as tight or complete as the rest of ours. These renegades are often viewed as dangerous fringe types, as they threaten the  (surprisingly precarious) order of things that keeps most people from sleeping with their neighbor's wife or doing massive amounts of drugs.
Visual and performing arts, music, movies, books, and social media all provide users with fantastical threads at short bursts. It's clear why so many of us are "addicted" to the instant gratification of "new-new-new" that makes up modern communicative outlets. Glimpses of an "other," desirable or not, are always at our fingertips.
Recently, I read an article about the waning creativity of humans as we age. The evolutionary explanation boils down to the burden of responsibilities that comes with adulthood. It makes sense for our ability to solve well-worn problems to take precedence over wildly imaginative exploits that kept us entertained as children. I often lament this lack of imagination in my fellow adults (which drives my desire to avoid working with other adults when possible and why my occupation of choice focuses on children).  Post-childbirth, I felt, that more than ever, the society in which we live is devoid of any meaning. As an existentialist, the belief that there is an inherent meaning to anything is generally foreign to me, but I suppose I had been holding onto some hope that something meant anything at all. The nihilistic edge that crept into my worldview was already there, but the juxtaposition of a new life (my child) to the hollowness of walking (literally and figuratively) through an endless stream of consumer goods became truly jarring. I've written about that feeling before - after having watched "The Hurt Locker" and now I feel it on a daily basis, with little ability or care to suppress such thoughts as ludicrous.
This tension between what I feel and what I live brings me back to the idea tha control, however illusory, is a strong drug that takes hold of all of us in some way. So as I search for a big picture answer for myself, I can only work to change incrementally at the present moment - open myself up to different experiences than I normally would pursue. What we should inject into our lives is a little risk. Extending a hand to someone in need when you previously would have ignored their plight, traveling despite money being tight, attempting to learn a new skill like cooking or painting, applying for a job you felt was out of reach, swiping right on someone who's not exactly your type....No risk, no reward, right? 

Stars Die

“You know that old cliché about millions of deaths being a statistic while the loss of just one life is a tragedy? If that's true, what is it when you lose something that never even had the chance to be born?

I've had lots of relationships in my time, platonic and otherwise, but the ones I think about most are those that never quite made it to term. The dashing first date who didn't call you back. The lady on the train you had that amazing conversation with but never saw again. The cool neighbor kid you met the first time a week before he moved away.I guess I'm just haunted by all that potential energy. 

One moment, the universe presents you with this amazing opportunity for new possibilities...and then...” - Brian K. Vaughan, Saga

A few years ago, I had written a post about The Catcher in the Rye with one of my favorite quotes as its title - "Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody." Although the post went on to talk about Holden's attitude toward life, I never did get around to addressing that titular phrase. After going on a reading spree the past few days, similar thoughts to Holden's emerged in my mind. What are the risks of putting yourself out there? Becoming vulnerable to others' judgments, rejections, reactions, etc? As an introvert, that sort of exposure sounds like a nightmarish hellscape that people like me avoid at all costs. 

Yet, conversely, what are the risks of walling oneself off to everyone else? I find myself pausing on that second scenario more that the first. I can do alone: a fortress of solitude - check; a self-sufficient hermit -check. And yet...and yet...I am drawn back to people by a need to learn and grow (with a little morbid curiosity thrown in there - what will these darn humans do next??) This desire to experience an expansion of my own boundaries - so at odds with my core temperament - makes me feel wholly uncomfortable and awkward most of the time - unless children or animals are present. The addition of players from either of those two camps helps the situation because the same boundaries have not been drawn. There's an openness to children; they haven't been ground down by their interactions with others to the degree adults have. Ultimately, most people are so set in their ways they're blinded to anything deviating from their anticipated norm. As an example, as someone with a lot of tattoos, I can tell you this "lack of sight" is no better illustrated than watching people's reactions to me when most of my ink is visible. My husband gets a lot of "cools" or "nice work!" - though as a woman with tattoos, unless someone IS tattooed themselves or knows women who are, I mainly get stares and side-eyes. To an extent, I am totally fine with that because it plays into the phenomenon of people leaving me the fuck alone. Yet, it can also have the effect of adding another barrier to the ability to connect, which is difficult to begin with for me.

The universe has presented us with so much, and decidedly NOT in the sense of a god/God putting it in our path. More in the sense that any of this is possible. That we're a "flash of light, in an endless night" and so is that person you met on the train. Or that coworker who's also REALLY into baking. Or whatever that connection was that you had with so and so. And so what? Are we supposed to deny those feelings of connection with others because society only allows us to have so many contacts? So many lovers? Such certain, specific configurations to our lives? Society was constructed by people for convenience; to create points of mutual understanding. Depending on the society, it might have also been created to control the masses. Can't these formations be questioned now? Can't we, as 21st century humans, create something different? Wasn't anyone paying attention to Rousseau? GAAH.

In last week's NYT magazine (yes, the obsession is real- I have no regrets), the feature article focused on whether or not humans should try to intentionally communicate with aliens. Surprisingly, people like Elon Musk and Stephen Hawking think this would be a poor choice- that we could inadvertently alert evil aliens to our existence and they'll swoop down and become our overlords. First of all, please, aliens, come and just take out as many of the powerful as you want. PLEASE. Secondly, am I to believe there are super-advanced aliens out there that can get their asses (space-asses) here quickly enough to enslave the human race, but haven't figured out how to find us in the first place? Hawking used the analogy of Cortes encountering the Aztecs. Well, yes, that was wholly awful for the inhabitants of the Americas, but Cortes and others like him were actively looking for places to conquer. If these aliens are waiting for us to send a signal, they're not actively motivated to conquer us -we've already done so for decades by using radio waves to broadcast information since the early 20th century. These are some lazy aliens.

Besides feeling superior to the most superior intellects of the current era for a few minutes, the other aspect of the search for extraterrestrial life that struck me as so mind-blowing was the same thought Enrico Fermi had about the situation - "Where is everybody?"It's likely that there are, or were, other forms of life in this vast universe (not to mention any other universes that may exist). Statistically we can't be the only planet with life. But we could potentially be the only planet supporting life right now. Other great civilizations could have risen and fallen billions of years prior to life on Earth in any form, or may be evolving to take shape sometime in the very distant future, when our own planet is past its prime and even the memory of humankind is relegated to the dustbin of time. Life is a flash in the pan not just for the individual, but for civilizations. Even stars die. So reach out and touch someone. Ha. Reach out to someone and let them know how you feel about them. Or do that thing you've put off forever, because who the fuck cares what your sister-in-law thinks about it? There are only so many opportunities for experience in our time here and we might as well use them.

"Civilized" Man and Our Hearts of Darkness

When you really truly think about the "modern," "Westernized" world and all of its innovations and conveniences, it's difficult to comprehend. In fact, it's probably incomprehensible to most.  As an example, our globalized socioeconomic system is so complex and convoluted that it's oftentimes cheaper to manufacture products overseas because resources and labor are so much cheaper (even heavier items that cost a lot to ship). And, as consumers in a post-industrial, hypercapitalistic world, inexpensive and abundant consumer items are what we have come to anticipate as the norm. As a person who has grown up in such a world, I find it a difficult habit to break out of, even knowing the consequences of buying, for example, shoes costing $14 - someone got paid very little to make them, said shoes will not last very long, their ultimate resting place in a landfill may leach chemicals into the soil, water, etc. And paying $125 for Nikes isn't much better, as most of the cost is actually going straight into the profit margin for the transnational corporate giant, not higher wages for the workers stitching those shoes together. "Fast fashion" is only one drop in the seemingly unending stream of convenient practices we engage in on a daily basis with little passing thought as to how our actions might be affecting the world at large.

Globalization is not a phenomenon new to the world for the 21st century. Humankind has been moving toward the degree of globalization we experience today since...always. As a species we move, adapt, interact, create and destroy, but never in a bubble. For instance, the endless obsession white nationalists have with Europe is  predicated on a wholly bizarre, cherry-picked version of history. Sure, the Ancient Greeks and Romans had mighty civilizations...which were influenced by the Egyptians and Persians and other groups who coexisted or *gasp* even predated their advancements. The Renaissance, Scientific Revolution, Enlightenment, Industrial Revolution, et al, would not have been possible if Europeans were solely looking to themselves for inspiration. Their GLOBAL connections to great empires elsewhere, like the Middle East and China, helped rekindle learning and innovation on their continent. Of course, development is not something that happens worldwide in one fell swoop. Different areas may benefit initially, with others lagging behind. Sometimes, the places lacking development may actually be at the mercy of the more "advanced." The imperialization of land and labor occurs even today. It's what makes $14 shoes possible for us Target shoppers. And, as beneficiaries, we just accept it. Turn a blind eye to it? Well, more likely, what's out of sight is out of mind so we don't have to really confront the people (inclusive of children) employed for dollars a day to make our lives more comfortable and "rich" with goods.

My favorite novel (really a novella) of all time is Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I read it in high school, and despite all of its flaws and the critiques leveled at it, to me, it still holds up as one of the best descriptions of the psychological horrors of modern life. Instead of existential dread brimming over each page, as in Kafka's works, Conrad's depiction of a journey down the Congo River to retrieve a lost European, Mr. Kurtz, begins much more straightforwardly. Yet, as the narrator, Marlow, edges closer to and finally reaches his destination, his experiences in the Belgian colony has already begun to change his outlook on not only his mission, but on Europe's place in the world as well. The disturbing realization he comes to is this: what everyone back home in England referred to as the "heart of darkness" wasn't the supposed unknowable and wild truths of the African continent, but instead the unsettling ambiguity within all of us. The supposed "cannibals" he was to fear treated him respectfully. The "uncivilized" laborers were actually the ones subjected to cruel treatment by his fellow countrymen. When he finally finds Kurtz, he's living as a "savage" and yet can still carry on a conversation with Marlow regarding his outlook on life, what he's learned and why he cannot return to Europe. Marlow, clearly shaken by his time in the Congo, does not return to Europe wholly changed. He still lies to Kurtz's fiancee about the conditions under which he died. He upholds the lie of the modern world - that the "modern" and "civilized" are somewhat better than the rest.

Its no wonder a novel that highlights the ambiguous morality of power and progress became the underpinning of the movie "Apocalypse Now." It puts the American role in Vietnam into sharp question. Were we there to "do right" by these people? Or was the ultimate geopolitical goal of the presidents and military top brass who presided over it at odds from what was drilled into the heads of soldiers and the American people? The Vietnam War era on the homefront was the end to American innocence in many ways; it exposed that the American establishment followed the same patterns of thought as so many other imperialist nations had previously, belying our own foundational ideology. It also seeded a deep mistrust of the government on the part of many Americans which has blossomed into the anti/alterna-fact orgy we are dealing with today.

Ultimately, to bring it full circle, the message of this story, written over 100 years ago, still rings true today. The modern world, with all of its development and progression comes at a price. As consumers living in the "first world" we are often not aware of the horrors that occur elsewhere in the name of providing the luxuries and comforts we take for granted. In an ever-globalized, highly connected world, the communication of such horrors as child labor, wage slavery and deplorable living conditions (among others) becomes more and more difficult to ignore. And yet, we feel powerless to effect real change. So I'm often left grieving for the way things are with a real sense of powerlessness about how to go about making them different. I often dream about running away to some mountaintop and washing my hands of all of it, but in the end, the same practices will go on whether or not I drop out. So it's vital to stay and think of ways in which to ameliorate the current system, if it's not possible to tear it down quite yet. The biggest threat to even those basic steps being taken is apathy. It's an everyday struggle to stay inspired and vigilant, but without even the attempt, all we have in the end are a bunch of hollow lies.

“Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violence--but more generally takes the form of apathy” - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Appreciating the In-between moments

Admittedly, I am obsessed with transience. It winds itself through most of my posts as the common theme - from the discussion of Japanese aesthetics to criticism of the transhumanist movement, the fleetingness of life fascinates me to no end. I have 8 tattoos currently and most of them relate to transience in some way. Funny, since permanent marks on my body represent the impermanence of all things. People often point this out to me, but I guess they forget I'm not too permanent myself.

A few years ago, I took a small class of students to experience a Japanese tea ceremony. We traveled to a rural area of western NJ to a large, old farmhouse. The ceremony's master led us to a small tea house in the backyard, nestled in a quaint Japanese-style garden. The tea house was seemingly no larger than a shed, but we were able to fit 8 people comfortably (?) inside, seated on the floor. Two attendants appeared from behind a paper screen to begin the ceremonial boiling of the water and steeping of matcha tea. The tea master began by making a cup of tea, drinking it and then passed the empty cup to the next patron, so they could inspect his cup for its beauty and imperfections. They received a separate cup to drink from, which they subsequently passed, empty, to their neighbor.  The flower display on the mantle was a small raku vase with a sprig of cherry blossom. The tea master also noted to the children that they should take in this sight, as if they came back tomorrow, that flower arrangement would be different and would represent a wholly new scene.

The students sat rapt in attention, their quiet filling the small space. As the ceremony continued, they began to politely discuss the taste of the tea and the sweets offered to them. Going last in the procession, I noticed how the students' behaviors adapted to the new, unusual situation. Unlike most every American experience, the ceremony's rituals were understated. With no cell phones in hand and having no literal space to escape to, the students had to confront each other (and themselves) in that small tea shack. Either we made polite conversation or we didn't. And either way, it was OK.

In the aftermath of the experience, the students wandered lazily around the Japanese garden, lounged around a small reflecting pool with koi, sticking their hands into the water to try and pet the fish. The tea master and his partner laughingly encouraged their attempts. As we spent a good portion of our day at the estate, I came to appreciate the break from the schedule of our regular day, and, from their relaxed behavior, I could tell the students did as well. Even the short break from their phones while we were in the tea ceremony seemed to help them focus more. Those in-between moments, the ones we usually fill with silently staring at our own personal devices were  now brought back to the forefront through this trip. These students will likely not change their patterns of behavior in any real way due to this experience, yet I do hope that it had as much of an impact on them as it did me.

As a person who grew up without a computer until late high school and without a smart phone until a year ago, I am still not ready to give into the temptation of constantly being able to be connected. Perhaps it is due to my introvert nature, but constant contact feels like an obligation I don't want to fulfill and see little positives in. Most of my students tend to be on an extreme end of this spectrum - constantly in contact with everyone and anyone through social media apps and texting. They will often claim that this is unhealthy as they scroll through endless posts, compelled to see more. What are they missing by looking down into their screens all of the time? Well, they end up missing some of those more unusual moments in life. Again, as an introvert, I have a habit of people-watching and appreciate what I see ("people are strange, when you're a stranger...). Are these moments life-changing? Most definitely not. But they do remind you, more than anything, that we are fallible creatures that are somehow both amazingly similar to each other and utterly unique at the same time. As we become more accustomed to seeing the same type of edited posts and pictures that people share about themselves online, it can be jarring to realize that no one is that put together in real life.

This week, a friend recommended an album to me, which, in one of those weird moments of aesthetic attraction, has become an immediate obsession (very occasionally, I will buy an entire album on a gut feeling after hearing one track. This was such an album and I haven't regretted that decision). The lyrics to this song, "Southern Gothic" relate to this feeling I often have - that I am speaking of things no one cares about anymore - but here's the real rub - I think they really do care about them, but have been conditioned not to. About a month ago, the NYT magazine ran an article about a website where people write in with descriptions of books they read and cannot recall the author or title (oftentimes, children's books). Bizarrely, this dead-end for memories led to a poignant essay about the humanity encapsulated within all of us, "The posts on Stump the Bookseller are far more utilitarian than they are sentimental, but...[they] routinely bring tears to my eyes. Each one forces an overwhelming rediscovery of just how real other people are. a confrontation with the fact that everyone's mind is cluttered with images that are incidental, almost partly lost, affecting in ways that are subtle, unpredictable and impossible to explain." And, I think, when we let our guards down long enough to talk to each other, like really sit down and talk face to face, or engage in a shared experience, we'd actually feel better not only about ourselves but about the world in which we live.

On Love in Many Forms

After reading this piece from the "Modern Love" column in the NYT - Romance as friendship - I decided I should try to write my own explanation of how I love. This has been kicking around in my head for a while, but it has taken some effort to articulate my thoughts and feelings on the matter. Saying "I love you" is no light task. If I've said it to you, I've meant it in a profound way and it's not something most people in my life will ever hear. In my first romantic relationship, my boyfriend said those words after a month of dating. Although I'm sure it came off in a bitchy way, I laughed in disbelief and said I couldn't return the sentiment...yet. It took me over a year to do so. Nearly half a lifetime later, I know that my way of loving (and expressing said love) is different from most. Of course today there's a label for every kind of love expression. If we want to get specific, I fall into the category of "demisexual" which seems to cover anything from nearly asexual to stereotypical sexual expression. Generally speaking, demisexual expression of romantic feelings is a slow burn - there's no "love at first sight" or immediate chemistry. The relationship progresses over time and usually meanders through a long friendship before the demisexual can ever truly feel romantic feelings for the object of their interest (I'd say desire, but that seems to not be the case).

Like the author in the article, those who are the closest to me friendship-wise, probably have, at one time or another, been an object of desire to me. Further reading on the "demisexual" way of love brings up the idea that such people are often "confused" about whether someone is a friend or a romantic interest. Well, yes, I guess that might be the case, but this explanation also tries to fit an unconventional way of approaching love into the more conventional box. Such a dismissal of love as confusion also elevates monogamy above other forms of expression - how can you hold romantic love for a friend and a designated erotic partner? Monogamy is the norm due to socialization - there are obviously many benefits to monogamous relationships, and although I am in one, I do not necessarily think they are by any means the natural expression of human desire (nor do I think having multiple partners necessarily is either). The expressions of human sexual desire and love are kaleidoscopic - multi-layered; a complex mix of elements we can never fully tease out to reflect a cut-and-dry explanation. Some expressions are obviously more preferable to others, especially for the stability of society and safety of its members. Although we has made great strides to be more inclusive, there is still room to grow. And I'm sure most people don't think they're wrong regarding their opinion, but I cannot see how, logically, there would be only one form of sexual expression. Naturally (and thus, evolutionarily), adaptation would lead to a spectrum of presentations of sexuality, just as it has led to variations in height, weight, eye, hair and skin color, etc.

Death is OK, really.

Recently, two articles in the New York Times stood out to me - both relating ot the topic of death. The first appeared in the Sunday magazine - an article about a "transhuman" presidential candidate, Zoltan Istvan, whose major impetus (as there was no chance he'd be elected) was to raise awareness of his personal strides toward ending death. This piece was one in a line of many I have read recently in various publications regarding increasing human longevity beyond anything ever previously believed to be possible. As medical science and technology progress, doctors have been able to elongate their patients' lives by years, if not decades. Yet, despite these gains, the candidate and his followers believe strongly that death has become an inevitability only because we've been taught it's the endpoint, not that it actually is. As a transhumanist, Istvan is interested in wedding human longevity with technology. The author, who traveled with the candidate, seemed skeptical of the overall messaging, though intrigued by which camp - the people who accept death, or those who don't - as the ones who are really the ones deluding themselves.

One of Istvan's followers referred to those who accept death as the finality as  "deathists" who have the view that death isn't so bad or is "natural" because they're trying to convince themselves to accept death, when, in fact, they should be breaking free to realize their full potentials as ever-living beings. This wouldn't be my description of my thoughts regarding the matter. Not that I want to die right now, but over the years I have cultivated an acceptance of the realities of a mortal body. There's nothing in observable nature that would make me think there IS another option besides death. I don't believe in god(s) or any sort of higher, supernatural power. What we cannot explain boils down to what we either cannot - or choose not - to understand.

The idea of living forever cheapens the experience. If you only get one go around, you have to be more careful. You have to pay attention to the details. Living in the now is essential. Yet, this doesn't jive well with modern life, where everything is rapidly changing and we're always looking for the next best thing. So why are we obsessed and further falling into this mode of being? A lack of knowledge about death as a part of life. Strangely, it took getting and being pregnant for me to fully understand how little practical information about my own body was passed on to me through general education. In fact, I spent the first half of my pregnancy in a state of shock because everything I thought I knew was only partly correct. Instead of continuing to be surprised or enraged, I began reading as much as I could on the process from the points of view of doctors, doulas, midwives and other moms. This empowered me to be able to go about the rest of the pregnancy with less anxiety.

The second article focused on just that - the importance of teaching students about death from a clinical (and practical) standpoint. What is your body experiencing in this stage? The author, a doctor who specializes in both critical and palliative care, focuses on not only empowering her students through knowledge of the process of dying, but also in how to reach out to those in their lives who might be suffering. Much like sex education, which she also teaches, death education has become, for her, an essential plank in the k-12 education platform. And yet, unfortunately, also like sex ed, it has become relegated to something that many Americans think should either be taught by a child's parents or spiritual leaders. The end result is we have a lot of people walking around with no clue of what their body is capable of. As a history teacher, I've had students interrupt my class with questions like, "what IS a placenta?" because they left health or biology with insufficient answers. How they decided these questions were OK for history class is beyond me, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I will answer most of their questions.

To put it simply, the body, your body, is the only one you will have in this life. And as we spend upwards of 10 hours a day on "screen time" the idea that your body is limited seems, well, antiquated. The reality is that our analog brains (and fragile egos) cannot comprehend that our digital profiles are only avatars in a illusory world. Human consciousness and "flesh-embodiment" isn't privileged, it isn't prestigious, it's simply a function of the biological world in which we all exist. And to the question of whether we should then strive to completely transcend this biology through science does not sway me to resoundingly say, "Yes, let's!" because it puts too much faith in the nebulous concepts of "science" and "technology" for me. As an atheist religiously, I find that this lack of belief I have in gods also inevitably transfers to all things that require a hard-line faith. So, I return to the observable. the cycles of life I see around me in nature and say, "death is OK, really."

Melancholia and the Inauguration Sadness

I was hesitant to watch the film, "Melancholia" because the only other film I'd seen by the director, Lars von Trier, "Dancer in the Dark," was so profoundly sad, I can't even think about it in more than a fleeting way. This movie is also dark, although more ironic in tone. The main character, played by Kirsten Dunst, royally fucks up her wonderful and expensive wedding day by being a sad sack that cannot get beyond her own depression to appreciate the love others have for her. In the aftermath of her bad behavior, her mood is lifted only after the realization that a wandering planet is on a collision course with Earth. Suddenly, and strangely, her inability to see a silver lining in most events allows her to see one here - the prospect of having a planetary-level moment of universal indifference to the whims and desires of mankind coincides with her personal feelings on relationships and her own existence. Her approach to the end of the world is not only tender but encapsulates the fleetingness of all of our inevitable mortal realities.

After watching, I realized that I dislike the idea that someone is "suffering" from depression. Surely, there is suffering in a depressed state. However, like any human experience, there can be an opportunity for growth during a trying time. As an American and a teacher, I too often see a desire for only the good, the pleasurable, the positive. While I'd obviously prefer elation to depression, being consistently happy is an unattainable state. How would happiness or contentedness even be measured if not against a more negative experience? In the past, I've written about the softening of younger generations in particular, although I think most adults I encounter are as lost in a fantasy as their younger counterparts. Constant distraction through social media and entertainment (which includes info-tainment [ memes, celeb news] and edu-tainment [trying to make every classroom activity as "fun" as possible, to an absurd extent]) has permeated all parts of American society, to the point that if real events do not coincide with a predicted trajectory, there is a complete breakdown by the perceiver (hence, the feelings on Nov 9 for many liberals and progressives, as well as the continued disavowal of literally everything based in reality for Trump himself).

In the case of the current political milieu, the next four years will be living in the aftermath of a similarly massive explosion. The choice lies with those who see it as terrible to stand up and change how they not only react to such events, but also how they act in the first place. I've been labeled a "luddite" for not embracing online activism, but I've yet to see anyone in a Western-style democracy effect real change as a result of using platforms like Twitter or Facebook as their main tools. Sure, Trump uses Twitter,  but to say tweeting won him the election is a dangerous downplaying of his intense ground game throughout the campaign. He stumped across the country, drawing large crowds, including demographics that do not use Twitter and the like. While these technologies are not going away, their effectiveness, especially with drawing in others who many not be of a like mind, is small. My proposal is a return to the salon, especially for the progressive left. At least two years of a Republican-controlled Congress captained by a Republican president should be a time of introspection and reflection. Read, think, write, meet and discuss. Retweeting or sharing memes, while satisfying in the immediate, adds to the cacophony of an increasingly partisan echo chamber, a trend that will not win over any hearts or minds, and may even serve to create factions within opposing forces (already I see the left balkanizing....and that's just reading over Facebook comments).

Thus, in response to this disconnect that many feel as we inch toward Jan 20, 2017, I am calling on everyone to let that awful planet hit us - hard. Sure, it won't be pleasant, but it will likely be jarring enough to ripple change through one's being. Maybe the end result will only be a slight adjustment in perception, or maybe a larger awakening will occur. Much like Dunst's character, those with nothing to lose may have an insight into how to make the best of a bad situation.