Friday, November 12, 2010
Personal note
I have neglected this Blog because of fall work (putting the farm "to bed"), harvest, firewood, and assorted tasks. Plus a trip West for a reunion with my dear siblings and the 50th Anniversary of The Temple of Man. Besides the unnerving entry into post 9/11 airport life (not as bad as I expected) and an all night Greyhound Bus ride (OK too) I would say that sensory overload and over stimulation were my only difficulties; together with the accompanying fatigue. I may indulge you, dear reader, with some more observations from this trip and work at a later date. For example, the Day of the Dead celebration in the Mission District of San Francisco, or the Petrified Forest in the upper end of Napa Valley, and garlic planting.
authenticity
The word seems old fashioned in this disingenious world, doesn't it? But people like Robert Jensen are still trying to define it as something to be lived: "Authenticiy comes when your thoughts, your words, and your deeds have some relation to each other. It comes when there's a real organic relationship between the way you think, the way you talk, and the way you act ...." In a world driven by relative reality the authentic is in a shaky dance with a tottering, tattered superstructure of "reality."
A millionaire stepping back from his computer after having scanned the present evaluations from Wall Street, walks through his vast backyard around the pool, and down through the gate to the pier to fire up his spacious Chris Craft for a trip to the yacht club for breakfast. His authenticity will be tested as he navigates the relative realities of the channel between his home and club.
An aging Vietnam vet starts his day by arranging things in his sparse, small but comfortable apartment. Government benefits have finally caught up with him and now he can dress warm with his Goodwill clothes. He double locks the door and climbs up the stairs to the cluttered street. Two blocks away is the welcoming diner. Buon appetite.
Several years ago I found myself coming in for a landing at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. I was seated in first class because they had overbooked the flight, and my companions next to the window were what I took for a very wealthy man and his young blonde escort. He had been describing a variety of things which were meant to impress. The last thing I heard him say was
"that you could tell what was really happening with metropolitan area by the number of corporate jets on the ground." Now I wonder how far he got toward or in his, and how that young woman has progressed with her authenticity.
A millionaire stepping back from his computer after having scanned the present evaluations from Wall Street, walks through his vast backyard around the pool, and down through the gate to the pier to fire up his spacious Chris Craft for a trip to the yacht club for breakfast. His authenticity will be tested as he navigates the relative realities of the channel between his home and club.
An aging Vietnam vet starts his day by arranging things in his sparse, small but comfortable apartment. Government benefits have finally caught up with him and now he can dress warm with his Goodwill clothes. He double locks the door and climbs up the stairs to the cluttered street. Two blocks away is the welcoming diner. Buon appetite.
Several years ago I found myself coming in for a landing at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. I was seated in first class because they had overbooked the flight, and my companions next to the window were what I took for a very wealthy man and his young blonde escort. He had been describing a variety of things which were meant to impress. The last thing I heard him say was
"that you could tell what was really happening with metropolitan area by the number of corporate jets on the ground." Now I wonder how far he got toward or in his, and how that young woman has progressed with her authenticity.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Redundancy
The unwelcomed repetition of concepts, stories or whatever are an anathema to me. I have had this feeling for my entire life, and as I get older I fear that I may or will start doing this (perhaps I already am?). I have watched friends and acquaintences do it, have had to ask them not to tell a favorite story for the umpeenth time, and it is painful to do. They, after all, are excercising what is left of their memory, they have found something to share. And I am going to ask them not to? This is a deep dilemma.
I find media indulging in repetition in an unhealthy way, for example NPR/Wisconsin Public Radio. Slogans are aired so often as to be completely meaningless, as are requests for support/membership, etc. The spots aired to give credit to commercial and noncommercial organizations come around so often as to make me wonder if the radio staff ever listen to the station/network, have any understanding of how this repetition can undermine their work (?).
Am I too sensitive to this? Must I desensitize myself as I get older, with the hope that others may be more forgiving than I've been? Vamos a ver.
I find media indulging in repetition in an unhealthy way, for example NPR/Wisconsin Public Radio. Slogans are aired so often as to be completely meaningless, as are requests for support/membership, etc. The spots aired to give credit to commercial and noncommercial organizations come around so often as to make me wonder if the radio staff ever listen to the station/network, have any understanding of how this repetition can undermine their work (?).
Am I too sensitive to this? Must I desensitize myself as I get older, with the hope that others may be more forgiving than I've been? Vamos a ver.
The Obvious
My partner in life sometimes complains about something she describes as "the obvious." It is as if I insult her by saying something that is a "foregone conclusion," not necessarily trite, but unwelcome. I don't mean to insult her, of course, and thus find myself apologizing for what I probably intended as a clarification. Often the obvious is unspoken because clarification is not deemed important, and could be unwelcomed as mention above.
Something that might seem obvious is the thought that a lot of what one knows is in a general stream of consciousness, out of which we may pick a combination of concepts/words to solve or describe a problem new or different to us. Specialists might not go through the trouble, since the process does not interest them since the subject or problem does not fall within the purview of their specialization. How to manage the obvious without insult to others? It seems that risks must be taken one way or another.
Something that might seem obvious is the thought that a lot of what one knows is in a general stream of consciousness, out of which we may pick a combination of concepts/words to solve or describe a problem new or different to us. Specialists might not go through the trouble, since the process does not interest them since the subject or problem does not fall within the purview of their specialization. How to manage the obvious without insult to others? It seems that risks must be taken one way or another.
Crossroads
A recent book names an Obijwe town called AAZHOOMOG, crossroads in the Anishinaabe language. And as I say the word "crossroads" I think of the well known rendition of the song done by Ry Cooder. The place where roads cross can be significant, but also may not be of importance. You may be out in the middle of nowhere, see on a map a seemingly significant crossing of roads somewhere, and expect a gas station, cafe or more (?). If the road crosses a river where there are possible or described settlements on either side, you may have something there too. I think of the Twin Cities in Minnesota where the University of Minnesota is on both sides, and St. Paul & Minneapolis are (seemingly) divided there. I have always found the word to be potentially haunting, with possible promise.
Intersections are a version of crossroads, within a city or town. Some of these do not even have stop signs, much less stop lights. But often these city/town crossroads have power to them, and I have heard some described as "power intersections," where more is going on than meets the eye. There may be some strong businesses there, or organizations which carry some weight, perhaps a church. So what?, as Andy Warhol would have said. What was the first intersection or crossroads to affect your life, the first crossroads?
Intersections are a version of crossroads, within a city or town. Some of these do not even have stop signs, much less stop lights. But often these city/town crossroads have power to them, and I have heard some described as "power intersections," where more is going on than meets the eye. There may be some strong businesses there, or organizations which carry some weight, perhaps a church. So what?, as Andy Warhol would have said. What was the first intersection or crossroads to affect your life, the first crossroads?
opacity/transparency
One of my siblings has commented on my opacity, suggesting I be more transparent. One of my erstwhile readers has asked that I reveal myself: Who am I? What do I do for a living/ Etc. So, I intend to describe myself briefly to clear the air a bit, and then satisfy my Sister (and Son, Aaron) later on. I am a 79 year old male, live on a farm and grow vegetables with my dear partner, Joni Lynn Cash. My major identity at oresent is a Haus Mann, described elsewhere in the BLOG, and I intend to go more into this subject in the near future.
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