An Atheist Laments the Loss of Spirituality

I write a lot about influences on my personal philosophy and worldview. 2 undergraduate history courses had a great impact on who I am today.The first was "19th Century Europe," and the second, "The History of Modern Japan." Time-wise, there was overlap, obviously, with both classes focusing on the "long century" that was the 19th. Chronologically, the 19th century was clearly as long as any other. However, certain historians designate the ideological underpinnings and mindset that came to signify the 19th century as beginning in 1789 (first French Revolution) and ending with the outbreak of WW1 in 1914. There is a dialectical forking that persists through this long century - one marked by the ideological optimism of Enlightenment thought that brought sweeping reforms as well as medical, social and technological advancements which ultimately made life more easily lived by most; the other prong characterized by a cynical secularism that arose from the waning power of religious ideology - a disregard for most of human history by training the eye always forward.

These two paths, I'd argue, didn't really coalesce into a new formation until after the devastation of the first truly "world" war. There is something absolutely beautifully breathtaking in the scope of the existential crises that WW1 inflicted upon humanity. Nietzsche was right about the men of his time - the scientists, the secularists, the non-believers in anything spiritual- so sure of themselves that the only thing that mattered was the material. If or when their "spirit" of life sought solace, the only choice became destruction - death. Such a man is capable of committing suicide to alleviate his angst, but only through mass homicide. And thus, the very long 19th century, one marked by practices in  restraint and propriety and logic, led to a bungle so heinous that the world was forever transformed, but scarred, in the process. Thus, for all of the measured control exerted by the Victorians, they succumbed to the same crushing defeat (through mass carnage) as any other historical era.

The burgeoning world power that was Japan at the end of the 19th century (fin de siecle) shared Western Europe's ideological, future-oriented optimism. However, the reasons I gravitated toward Japanese literature were grounded in their philosophical outlook - the first being that "Japanese existential essence." The canonical works (and even entire forms of expression like haiku) reflect Buddhism steeped in fatalistic waters. Japan lies on fault lines, hosts volcanoes, experiences real catastrophes based on sea level changes and is at the forefront of tsunami activity in the Pacific.  Secondly, in many works from the fin de siecle through WW2, the meteoric rise of a culture so divorced from real spirituality is evident. Rituals and relationships begin to ring hollow, and yet leaders push them to mean more and more. After the fall of the Japanese Empire in 1945 through such a brutal explosion of force (re: the atomic bomb) a new interface between existentialism and nihilism opened up. The collective consciousness of an entire nation became one of post traumatic stress disorder.

Personally, that type of existential crises intrigues me. How does someone (or in this case, an entire people) overcome such trauma? Not that my culture has ever experienced anywhere near that level of devastation (maybe some of the more recent hurricanes would fit the bill, but even those were not colored by the same gravity of being a choice made by humans to inflict directly on other humans), but for many empathetic people, one can imagine how quickly everything you know could change. We all know people whose lives were going one way....until they weren't anymore. On the other hand, American culture likes to promote only the successful stories - the rags-to-riches (and even the riches-to-riches) tales. As a species, we tend to learn more from the oppositely-oriented ones.

Subsequently, the development of Japan in the post-WW2 era is also fascinating. Fast-forwarding to today, the country's embrace of technological advancements and capitalism created a society of commodification. No time for a relationship? Go to a host club. No time for a pet of your own? Visit a cat cafe for the afternoon. Is the spiritual edge that once stirred me still there? According to various news reports in the past few years, old ways are indeed dying out. Less and less people are identifying as a member of any particular religion, and without patrons, historic temples are shuttering. Beyond the rise of secularism, Japan also faces a crisis of being at zero population growth. Is this a natural ebbing which will be followed by a flowing of fertility? Or has intense commodification wrought these changes? Much like in the Western world, many people of childbearing age delay having children due to extended educational careers, economic instability and generalized anxiety over bringing a child into a seemingly tumultuous world.

Would things be different if there was some degree of spiritual grounding? Populations that identify as religious have a been studied to have higher birth rates. Is there less anxiety about the future (and your children's futures) if a god/gods is/are involved? Personally, the idea of having children never scared me, nor did I think of "the right time" as being any other time than the present. Perhaps that's a stupid, short-sighted way of approaching the big responsibility of bringing another life into this world, but it's also a biological impulse for many that doesn't really warrant that much thought. People successfully had children when they were mucking around as serfs on some lord's lands. Children were brought into this world in the middle of wars, under enslavement, in concentration camps, during diasporas - in other words, the absolute worst conditions humans could endure. So the middle class professional who's "just waiting for the right time to bear children" might be overthinking things a bit. An industry of child-rearing books, products and experts has stripped away what humans have been able to do naturally, even under duress, for millennia.

Thus, the restrictions we face are often put upon us by ourselves. This fact is evident from about day 3 of being a parent or ever being in charge of anyone (even for a short period of time). Why the fuck do we care to continue to restrict human potential? Are we carrying on in ways we know are unsustainable, illusory, etc? What could possibly end some, even if not all, of the destructive behaviors we engage in? Literally wading through consistently flooded streets? And what can replace the desires that are not acted upon? Distractions...material accumulation? Virtual realities? I would constantly ask myself these questions while studying the 19th century, as I do regarding our society now. Surely we do not live in such a buttoned-up era as the Victorians, but there is some overlap ideologically. The confusing social milieu of now leads to personal censorship akin to the propriety of our predecessors. Say the wrong thing, share the wrong meme, and *poof* "cancelled." The fear of being shunned has dampened personal expression and experimentation. There is little room for mistakes. So people don't even try, as not to fail.

Perhaps with God being dead (and we, and our forebears in Western society, having killed him), the only way out of endless material accumulation IS (self) destruction.And not mass suicide or suicide through homicide, but the tearing down of a system that has failed. For the sake of all of us, and especially for the sake of the generations recently or even yet to be born, fuck this society. Let's band together to build a new, communal one.

Where Has the American Spirit Gone?

“Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened...

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” - HST, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

          This is what "American" is- non-entrenchment. It's what I see in truly American artwork - as in the product of a wholly AMERICAN upbringing. There's some danger, some mystery, a sense of wonder that can only appear in a place where the boundaries, both materially and culturally are nebulous. The American point of view stands apart from the Eurocentric perspective that has dominated most of the modern world. Perhaps as a former colony, the US benefits from the post-colonial freedom of ideology and thought (bracketing out American colonial attitudes, obviously).

The American perspective is an attempt to encapsulate the "wild frontier"; to somehow relay the hopes that only looking over new horizons can bring through artistic expression. Of course these lofty feelings are tethered to the crushing pain of remembering that even with such hopes of the undiscovered within, all of us will one day die.

The Japanese concept of mono no aware is the most similar, non-American aesthetic I can relate this feeling to. The beauty in that "hope" of new life that is soured slightly by knowing the ending to all our stories. That bittersweet feeling of burgeoning possibilities and impending doom wrapped into one experience. How can such sorrow be the truth? And yet, who has come back to tell us otherwise? Jesus is a parable - his return is only to confirm the obvious - that the pain and suffering is worth it in the end. You are consciously experiencing reality for a brief moment in the span of this universe's life. Even the Judaic concept of waiting on the messiah is a metaphor for how to live our own lives. We can pray on the coming of a savior - to settle back and look for someone to guide us through, bu tin the meantime, why not do it ourselves?

American culture has lost the sacred cord back to mortality. The obsessions with youth, the now, "winning" are all part of the veil we willingly draw over our own eyes. Compliance, complacence, convenience and conformity has taken over our landscapes - again, both materially and culturally. When everything is easily answerable and "at hand," the mind tends to wonder, "Is this all?" We're ALL the 'kept' housewives of the post-war era. Some of us have started to chafe a little, but no
one is willing to risk the big push toward change. In this case, what would be a desirable outcome of 'revolution'? How can we successfully integrate technological advancements into our lives in more productive ways? Will a profit motive always incentivize playing to/preying on basic human weaknesses? 

Crushing artistic expression under the weight of commercial success has had a deleterious effect not only on expression, but on the collective consciousness. Art for consumption has supplanted art for art's sake. So what is lost when we take individual expression out of the equation? Hasn't there always been pulp/pop art? Sure. There's no question that art for consumption isn't a new development. The difference is that in its current iteration, everything is stylized, from 99 cent mascara tubes to high-end Teslas. Eye fatigue sets in. The brain becomes accustomed to the beautiful, forever pushing our standards for acceptability higher. But we need a break. We need something weird, ugly, frustrating to reset our minds.

Consider how we learn, from day one. Children are little explorers - they need challenges, stumbling blocks, to learn how to think and act independently from their caregivers. And yet, many adults go through life minimizing any and all frustrations - searching for something online? no way! lines at the bank? ew. Going to the supermarket? ugh. Crow's feet around the eyes? blech. Ultimately, this isn't a snowflake problem - it's an everyone problem. No one can wait - and god forbid we feel not-convenienced, let alone inconvenienced! A Bad Yelp! review to follow....For all of our time-saving and age-defying innovations, are we spending our "freed up" time engaged in amazingly humanitarian acts? To be honest, its our time and we can whatever the fuck we want with it, but let's not lie to ourselves that scrolling through social media feeds and liking/sharing memes is saving the world. And to boot, most of us seem to be bored by what's presented as the norm.

How do we recapture the American spirit? Of course, there are those on the fringes of or entirely outside of popular culture that have never lost it. If you're not looking hard enough, they may be tough to spot. And if you are yourself living there, it's a lonely road sometimes. But without struggle, we don't learn, grow and evolve. At this point, we need to. Our country is at a crossroads - our entire species is, really - we either adapt or we destroy the planet for the sake of out own convenience.

Craft Your Life In Ways It Will Be Shown

"Craft:  a form of knowledge, but not just knowledge of making, but a knowledge of being."*

Reading a book review of a history of crafts - in the sense of handicrafts or practical arts as well as time-worn, but increasingly rare practices, like sheep-herding - I was reminded of my obsession with the idea that teaching falls under this umbrella. For people who always felt teaching was the job that made sense to them, despite lower salaries or life in the panopticon (in which bureaucrats and your neighbors alike could have an opinion about YOUR job!), the common refrain that 'it's a calling' likely resonated with you, even if you rolled your eyes to the sentimental cheesiness so many would imbue such a statement with.

As I've expressed beliefs about the craft of teaching previously, the focus of this post is the concept of "craft" itself. In an era of instant gratification, the thought of putting time into such mundane tasks as weaving a basket or even chopping vegetables becomes ludicrous in the face of time savers like purchasing "pre-made," "pre-packaged," "pre-cut," etc. Yet, in light of all of our innovative ways to save a few minutes her and there, major consequences arise: the impact of the "use and toss" culture on our environment, the fact that no one seems to have achieved any long-term contentment, and the effect not engaging has on our minds.

Did our ancestors have more fulfilling material and spiritual lives? In some respects, yes....(?!). There was more likely to be a purpose to life, especially when it came to work. Crafting was life for a weaver, a shepherd, a potter. Of course, infant mortality rates were through the roof and a drink of water might lead to death. It's dangerous to romanticize the old and remove these practices from the societies in which they existed. That doesn't mean we can't find something to take away from them either.

In a post-industrialized world, where most hold service jobs, and even those who still work in manufacturing now have an idea their jobs come with an expiration date after which their positions will be automated, humans have to be cognizant of the limitations of the all-tech, all-the-time milieu. Our biological evolution has not caught up with our social. Human bodies have remained relatively unchanged as far as composition since 300,000 years ago. We tend to forget such realities when our species has woven a wonderfully progress-oriented narrative for ourselves in the form of a collective consciousness. And with a focus on the future (and a "now is better than then" attitude) we've lost sight of what it means to experience our humanness in many ways.

Must we, as individuals, craft to survive as a species? We're made to believe so many aspects of our society are "bedrocks" of civilization as we know it when likely they're not. Beliefs that take away our desires to "do," as in experience, the world around us. Instead we sit in inertia, rather than endure hard feelings. The fear of change and anxiety associated with non-conformity to a "normal" way of life keep us in jobs, homes, relationships, behavior patterns that rob us of our (admittedly, very little) agency to effect change in our own lives.

The only answer that satiates any desire for a solution (though it is paltry in comparison to the size of the problems facing our species) is to live , in the face of oppressive bourgeois norms, blasphemously. Whatever that word conjures up in your mind - try it out. The repression of our selves in learned from myriad sources and from an early age. Parental examples, religion, schooling, media and popular culture all send messages to continue the narrative, to preserve it for future generations. And sure, the levels of oppressive social messaging today are less restrictive and more open to new possibilities, but always it's a new amendment added to a list of many others versus. Rather, those new iterations can be intertwined into a wider web of human possibilities, furthering chances of a new configuration.

Thus, our nature calls us to craft - and not solely in the sense of gluing popsicle sticks together to make a frame. "Craft" in the older sense of the word - to know how to "be" whatever it is you're doing. Enrich your experience and life with full engagement in an activity.



*the review of the book, "Craeft" in the NYT Book Review

Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride

Over the past two months, I've been plagued by a sense of writer's block. Not that I amount to any great or prolific "auteur" but energy flows through me when I write in a way it doesn't necessarily do so in public speaking or even one-on-one conversations. So with an inability to find that as an outlet, two months of observations on the world around me became bilious and much in need of expression - sex scandals, harassment accusations, "45", the Republican "anti-American Dream" tax bill, social media overload, work-related stressors, day-to-day worries - woof. Much as I tried to avoid it, I was stuck in the 24 hour news cycle hell that dominates our modern media paradigm.

This was destined to continue - a  kingdom of bullshit around us, evident, yet impossible to break away from. At least that is what I had resigned myself to...until this week, anyhow.

Today I spent a portion of the afternoon reading the NYT magazine section from Dec 31, 2017 - dedicated to the obituaries of various influential people who passed on this year. Coupled with the last few days' "best of 2017" lists, I began to reflect more deeply on the year and why so many people wait until the changing of the calendar page to make any actual changes in their lives. As someone who doesn't often make resolutions at year's end, what ultimately resonated with me was the fascination of what we, as individuals, do give significance to in our lives. Whether live performances of the music we love or really great conversations with friends, so much of what enriches our experiences as living beings are our interactions....with other living beings.

Painful as that admission may be for a person who wears "Hell is other people" socks on a regular basis, the evidence proves otherwise. And within this admission of the necessity for other people, the end-of-year recaps and hopeful resolutions also speak to the fullness of our lives. We don't acknowledge this often enough in the day to day, but as beings with an unknown expiration date, the constant flow of negativity and misery we subject ourselves to through media consumption and constant distraction from what's right in front of us is ludicrous given our short time here.

Losing sight of the forest for the endless trees can provoke existential distress in anyone. But of course, when we zoom out, even the healthiest forests harbor rot and decay as much as they are burgeoning with new life. On top of that, there are many paths through each of our lives, yet when we find a walkable one, we tend not to veer too far off of it. I've faced this personally and professionally many times and up to this point, most of the choices I have made have been to stay on a particular path.

 But to what end? Robert Frost's "The Road Less Traveled" comes to mind as I can sit and regret things I didn't choose to engage in. Though, the idea that two roads could never intersect or hold twists unseen puts a lot of faith in the idea that our choices have totally foreseeable outcomes and everything will go the way we intend. Unfortunately, our lives do not unfold in that way, and as someone who is now in her mid-30s, any such philosophy that sets the individual up as a creator of her own destiny has no appeal. Much of what we experience is by chance, including what sort of environment we're born into or skin we're in. Thus, the emphasis on the individual working hard for something or willing it to become reality sets so many people up for not necessarily failure in execution, but with a belief that existentially, they are failures themselves.

Ultimately, we know how to get by. We know what sort of resolutions we'll make year after year, but what would really make our lives better? How could we open ourselves up to more experiences? See the forest for what it is - in all its cycles of growth, death and rebirth? If you have suggestions, let me know.

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?