Bierbeekstraat

La découverte

2007-10-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

Le premier mois que j’ai passé à Bierbeekstraat était un voyage spirituel. J’étais seul avec moi-même sans rien faire sauf réfléchir, penser, prier, lire et étudier les écritures sacrées. Je travaillais de huit heures du matin jusqu'à cinq heures du soir. En rentrant chez moi chaque soir, je me suis mis à penser à ma vie et aux chois que j’avais faits, and à réfléchir au but de la vie et combien je vivais en accord avec la volonté de mon Père céleste. C’était un passage difficile, une exploration interne dans laquelle j’ai dû hasarder la découverte de mes propres fautes, de mes problèmes et de mes défectuosités.

C’est pour cela que je crois bien que la prière est plutôt un parcours de découverte. La vie quotidienne peut facilement nous distraire du but de la vie. En fait, je crois que c’est pour cela qu’il faut passer notre vie par terre : pour démontrer à Dieu que l’on veut Le suivre, Lui obéir, et choisir le bien. C’est peut-être facile de faire ce qui est juste et correcte quand l’on se trouve devant le trône de Dieu and lorsque l’on habite en sa présence. Mais lorsque l’on est loin de Lui et seul et distrait par la vie et les amusements—et bien les travaux—qui s’y trouvent, c’est là où se trouve le vrai caractère de cette personne. L’on ne se connaît pas vraiment avant de se mettre dans l’expérience et les situations réelles de la vie.

Dieu vit. Il n’est pas un sentiment ou le produit de l’imagination des hommes. Il est réel. Il nous connaît. Il nous voit. Il sait tout ce que nous faisons, pensons et espérons. Il suit notre vie avec une intéresse paternelle. Il veut que nous choisissions bien, que nous fassions de bons choix pour que nous puissions avoir le bonheur. Il sait comme un père le sait ce qui est le plus important pour ses enfants, ce qui mènera au bonheur et ce qui mènera à la tristesse. C’est pour cela qu’il nous a donné des commandements et veut que nous lui obéissons—ce n’est pas pour nous ennuyer ou pour nous donner des taches difficiles, mais pour nous aider à bien naviguer la vie, pour trouver le bonheur et pour nous préparer, si nous choisissons toujours le bien, à retourner vivre avec Lui.

C’était à Bierbeekstraat que j’ai redécouvert ces vérités essentielles et éternelles. Les bénédictions de Dieu nous entourent et nous suivent. Souvent lorsque l’on en a besoin le plus, elles sont là, nous encerclant, sans que l’on le sache. Même—et surtout—à Bierbeekstraat, le désert sec de notre vie, Dieu nous connaît et nous bénit. J’en suis témoin.

Getting lyrics all wrong

2007-10-15T20:49:00.000-07:00

I have an incorrigible tendency to get lyrics wrong to songs. There are all sorts of reasons I've come up with to explain this pathetic phenomenon, but I'm not going there. I know I'm not alone, but this tendency is obnoxious.

Here are some examples, in no particular order, as they come to mind:

1. The CCR song "It Ain't Me" for some reason translated into "Ganymede" (as in the pock-marked Jupiterian moon and whatever oddball of Greek mythology the moon was named after). I even humiliated myself by correcting someone who called it, strangely enough, by its correct name (which, if you haven't been paying attention, is "It Ain't Me").

2. "Blinded by the Light" has tripped up countless people. What I think few people know is that Bruce Sprinsteen, as yet undiscovered, wrote the lyrics. I have no personal knowledge of this, but I don't have any personal knowledge about much of anything, so I think it's ok to say it with that beautiful disclaimer.

3. Talking about CCR (John Fogerty runs my head in silly directions, apparently), "Proud Mary" baffles me. I'm pretty sure that something happened in Memphis and something else in New Orleans, but I'm not sure what.

4. "Band on the Run" by the Wings became "Man on the Run" in my little, twisted mind. I'm not sure what either means, but I'm sure it refers to something important--at least of commensurate importance with this post.

5. When I was younger than I am today (that should narrow it down), "That's All" came out by Genesis. I thought it was called "That Song" for a while. When I discovered the true name I also soon discovered that I wasn't the only one confused--I was signing it in the car the correct way when a sibling of mine corrected me "It's not 'That Song,' it's 'That's All.'" Rather than be annoyed that I had sung it right and got told what I knew, I think I was kind of proud that anyone could recognize the honks and beeps coming out of my mouth as any particular song.

The list could go on. You get the point. I should like to point out, however, that with every bit of idiot in us, there's a touch of savant. By way of example, I may butcher every other songs lyrics, but I've always known what the words to "Louie, Louie" are.

Test me sometime.

The Eighth Dwarf

2007-10-15T20:35:00.000-07:00

It's interesting on some obscure level that Disney chose to name his seven dwarfs: "Bashful," "Doc," "Dopey," "Grumpy," "Happy," "Sleepy" and "Sneezy." Bashful, Grumpy and Happy are also adjectives used to describe personality chracteristics. Doc is usually thought to denote a profession or the existence of a professional degree, and is a noun. Dopey does not so much speak to a personality trait as it does to being drugged up or stupid (if you choose to argue with me, please first visit http://www.etymonline.com/, where you'll find this: [dope 1807, Amer.Eng., "sauce, gravy," from Du. doop "thick dipping sauce." Extension to "drug" is 1889, from practice of smoking semi-liquid opium preparation. Meaning "foolish, stupid person" is older (1851) and may have a sense of "thick-headed." Sense of "inside information" (1901) may come from knowing before the race which horse had been drugged to influence performance. Dope-fiend is attested from 1896.] Sleepy primarily refers to lethargy, not so much a personality trait as a circumstantial condition. And Sneezy presumably refers to a health-related predisposition.

Where is the logic? Can we extrapolate from these seven the likely name of the eighth? I would like to propose that both of my readers try to come up with the most logical eighth dwarf name.

[NOTE: I've been working hard today and my Red Sox lost and I have the right to be inane.]

Critical factoid of the week

2007-10-13T23:52:00.000-07:00

Gravity in the Hudson Bay and surrounding areas is lower than in other parts of the world.

I propose dumping all of the world's landfills there to solve this critical problem. If we don't, I predict that our landfills will continue to get more and more full, which could lead to junk piling up everywhere, which could lead to messy yards, which could lead to a lot of homeowners associations being insensed, which could lead to a lot of assessments against homeowners, which could lead to law suits, which could lead to the lawyers producing more paper work product, which could lead to deforestation, shifting climates, and all sorts of terrible environmental catastrophes.

If you support my proposal, please contact Stephen Harper.

Thank you.

My non-shared environment

2007-10-13T22:53:00.000-07:00

There is a theory of personality psychology that says (in rough terms) that the differences between siblings are fundamentally connected to their non-shared experiences (or non-shared environment). This almost seems axiomatic, but the implications are interesting. Experiences unique to a child do more to define that child's personality or psychopathology than those experiences shared with other children of the same parents. Unique experiences are powerful. It stands to reason, I believe, that the more homogeneous the experiences of a group of siblings, the more powerful the non-shared experiences are in determining differences in personality.

When I look at the six children in my parents' family--my three sisters and two brothers and myself--I see some definite similarities and definite differences. Considering that the only likely readers of this will be my relatives, I'm going to list some of my unique experiences that jump out at me as odd. I'm not sure the ones that strike me as odd are any more or less significant than ones that are so routine that I can't remember them, but they're the ones I remember and care to mention. I also don't pretend to know how these experiences make me different (if indeed they do have any measurable impact on me). I only list them because they are for whatever reason memorable to me. Why have I had some of these experiences, how did I get myself in to them, and why did I make the choices I did?

I doubt any of these are terribly interesting, but here they are anyhow. The sole criterion I rely on is that these experiences happened to me without any of my siblings present.

1. As a teen, I ran on the tracks down a dark tunnel late at night in the Paris subway, inches from the third rail (with high current) to avoid having to wait for the next train.

2. When I was five, I piled a huge amount of styrofoam against a certain hotel in a certain town in Switzerland and lit it on fire with matches I had taken from a box behind the concierge's desk. A man chastized me, but didn't stop me.

3. As an adult, a sweaty, stinky co-worker grabbed me from behind in a bear hug (we had been chasing a nerf basketball down the hall and he was caught in a frenzy of excitement apparently when I beat him to the ball). I was so repulsed that I turned around and punched him repeatedly in the stomach.

4. I missed the bus home as a sophomore in high school and rather than pay thirty cents to take the city bus, I walked 10 miles to my grandmother's house, where I asked her to drive me the last few miles home.

5. When I was about 8 or 9, I dropped my dues for Cub Scouts in tall grass on my way to den meeting and spent the whole meeting looking for the dues rather than go to the meeting. I never found them. The dues were a dime.

6. When I was 3 years old I witnessed my neighbors' house being robbed and gave a statement to the police.

7. When I was 10, I pushed my 6-year old neighbor on a space trolley and he fell about 15 feet and hit his head on some rocks and had to get stitches.

8. When I was 14 I piloted a large yacht across Long Island Sound in a storm.

9. When I was 14 or so, I walked home about .8 miles from my school bus stop with my eyes closed in rural part of the Tucson desert and opened my eyes to find three coyotes standing there staring at me--two in front and one behind.

10. When I was newly married, I hit and killed a javelina (peccary) with my car.

I just realized I have countless of these silly little experiences. Some are a little sad and I don't mention them, though those are sometimes perhaps the most profound psychologically (such as getting lost).

Maybe my dear relatives reading this are nodding their heads knowingly and saying to themselves, "Now I understand!" Perhaps they are also stroking their chins and squiting as they nod. In fact, there are all sorts of cliche behaviors they could be engaging in.

So, my question du jour: what cliche behavior are you engaging in at this very second? If none, please describe what cliche behavior you would be engaging in if you were engaging in cliche behavior.

The Holy Cow candidate

2007-10-13T00:53:00.001-07:00

I, like not a few Americans, have been following the presidential hopefuls since the beginning of the year. I think the race is down to seven--Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama and that one Edwards guy from South Carolina--oh, yeah, John--on the one side. On the other are Rudy Giuliani, Mitt Romney, Fred Thompson and that McCain guy from Arizona--oh, yeah, John. I'm tempted to dump the two Johns off this list. John Edwards seems to be plummeting because he looks more like a student body president than a U.S. President--and possibly other reasons. And McCain seems to have let his native charm get in the way of things. In fact, I think Clinton pretty much has the donkey side all wrapped up.

But the elephant side is a real mess. You've got Giuliani who has been through a few marriages and is pro-choice as a matter of public policy, which has got much of the Republicans a bit concerned. You've got Mitt Romney, who really has lost some credibility with the political expediency thing (his positions on abortion and same-sex marriage have migrated). You've got Fred Thompson who is great at drawling about stuff and things, y'know, and stuff. I think Fred Thompson is being figured out, though. I've seen more articles in the past week insisting that Fred Thompson is not out of the game yet. Very encouraging for him.

I really think it's probably down to three, when we boil things down a bit: Clinton, Giuliani and Romney.

There's something to be said about each one: Clinton has clout and strength and recognizability; Giuliani has a pinched nose, recognizability, and an affable toughness about him; Romney has that hairdo.

But I've been trying to dig deep on Romney. He's kind of the wildcard (with all apologies to Tancredo). There's the "Mormon question" that's haunting him. He's always being praised and slammed for "looking presidential" (I would ask what that means, but John Edwards and Dan Quayle have accidentally answered that for us) and for being really, really smart. I mean, we can only go through so much change at a time, right?

But I read an article from Atlantic Monthly that is quite interesting. It addressed a lot of my questions about whether this guy is for real or only skin deep. I think it's a must read.

In any case, the primaries are that far away. (And by "are" I mean "aren't.") Romney has been leading the polls in New Hampshire and Iowa, while Giuliani leads the national polls handily on the Republican side. Clinton has been dominating the Democratic side for a while now.

One thing to consider on Romney is this: should we trust a candidate who punishes his son for his parents' mistake with his own name? Between Mitt and Tagg, I can't help but feel like I'm playing a game of pickle with my brother circa 1978.

Al Gore and the Nobel Peach Prize

2007-10-13T00:41:00.000-07:00

That should read "Nobel Peace Prize" really, but it might as well say "Peach" because I have no idea what this is about. We all know Gore has been pretty active in the whole global warming thing in recent years. His hair has changed, his weight has fluctuated, his clothing style has mutated, his accent has deepened, but Al Gore has been remarkably consistent in his message that the world is doomed due to global warming. I admire his tenacity and sense of mission. I've never really been drawn to the man, but that might be because he's a politician, even if retired in a way (at least from public office).

The thing I don't get is why he is sharing the Peach Prize. I mean Peace Prize. (My fingers have a mind of their own.) And it's not the sharing, it's the Peace Prize thing. Didn't Linus Pauling win that too? It's not like it's always about peace, but I have no idea what crusading against global warming has to do with peace. Perhaps it unifies the world in a common cause, thus bringing us together in brotherly love and kindness (like happens in a lot of science fiction stories).

So, I'm looking for answers. I'm guessing George Bush wasn't on the short list this year. Of course, Jimmy Carter won it a few years ago and I think Georgia's known as the Peach State, so maybe it all makes sense in the end.

Language and grammar

2007-10-12T23:51:00.000-07:00

I am not a prescriptivist, but that doesn't mean I love and equally appreciate all language. Some things grate on me. That doesn't mean I think they should be done away with, but it means they aren't easily ignored. I am more tolerant of grammatical differences when they don't appear to be merely stylistic differences. In other words, so-called "bad" grammar is not so annoying to me unless it is stylistically bad. By style, I refer to those types of matters addressed by Strunk & White in Elements of Style (many of which, inevitably, related to grammar).

All that aside, however, I do have some pet peeves about habits that reveal a painful disregard for grammatical and stylistic consistency. The less there's logic to one's grammar, the more it grates on me. John Lennon saying "Me used to be angry young man" doesn't really give me much heart-burn, in part because I don't hear that much and so it seems quaint. But when I hear trends in bad grammar used in abundance and those trends are totally internally inconsistent, it really does jump out at me and, I admit, irritate me. I'm not saying this to imply that because it irritates me it must be bad. I'm simply openly acknowledging that I am flawed and that I immaturely react to someone's grammar by being irritated (there are other things I feel, including complete indifference, but I'm specifically addressing the irritating things here).

One of the most annoying is the inconsistent use of pronouns. "Bob and me went to the store" is totally inconsistent with "I went to the store." Either "Bob and I went" or "me went." Why does Bob going change the pronoun I use for myself? Some people sense that something is wrong, so they say instead "Bob and myself went to the store," which is really no better. The same people who say "Bob and me went" then say "The car hit Bob and I." Again, "The car hit me" and "The car hit Bob and I" are completely inconsistent. Why make "I" the direct object simply because Bob is thrown in there? And, again, some correct themselves by saying "The car hit Bob and myself." Oy.

What really takes it to whole new level of ridiculous is when this is extended to possessive pronouns. I hear frequently this construction: "Your yard looks great, but Bob and I's is a mess." Some of you will think I'm creating this, but I adjure that I hear it frequently. It could be regional, but I'm not so sure. I think we just ignore it and have trained ourselves just to understand the meaning and not notice the crime that has just been commited. It's a sort of logical extension--if you subscribe to the "always say 'I'" theory (and many do), then it doesn't take a great leap to converting the first person possessive pronoun "my" (or "mine" for that matter) into "I's." But who would say, "Stop! Don't take that! It's I's!"?

So the inconsistency really gets me. I admit that if I found someone who only had "I" in his vocabulary and used it always to me "I" or "me" or "myself" or whatever, then that's acceptable to me on some level. At least it's consistent.

Now I'm not saying that all language is internally consistent and logical. It's not. But we have conventions for usage (perhaps this is style) and I just like a world that's a little more conventional than what the above reveals.

I'm also not saying that I have perfect grammar and great style. I don't. I admit that. I also don't think that it's bad to have one standard for formal speech and another for colloquial speech. I certainly use different speech in different contexts. And I allow myself to use a "relaxed" grammar in familiar settings.

OK, enough of my rant. I'll list a few of my pet peeves that I've run across in recent days. This is not an exhaustive list of my pet peeves, mind you (oh, no, I'm way to peevish for that), but these are some ones that grate me that have come up in recent situations:

1. Confounding "to lay" and "to lie." This is so common as to amount quite possibly to a shift in definitions or style. I mean, when it's ten times more likely to be said the "wrong" way than the "right" perhaps our definition of "wrong" and "right" need to be flipped. Anyhow, a person doesn't "lay down" on the couch. "To lay" is more appropriate to a transitive context. "I will lay down this book." "Please stop laying eggs in the kitchen." (How's that for a fabulously ambiguous statement?) But when a person is lying down, he should lie down and not lay down. "It is time for me to lie down." "I'm going to lie down in the grass and enjoy this beautiful weather." I think the past tense creates some of the confusion: "Yesterday, I lay down in bed." Oh, well. I'll never cave in on this one.

2. The whole pronoun thing with me, my, he, him that I mentioned above. I often hear the "him and I" as in "She kicked him and I out of the library." Yuck. As a side-note, I read in a linguistics book years ago that you can't formally teach grammar to your kids, that it's been shown that they learn based on what they hear, not what they're told to do. I got so frustrated one day that I told my kids how to do the whole pronoun thing, and it's pretty rare for them to get it wrong (that was several years ago). So much for that theory. I'd be willing to say that pronouns cause more problems in grammar than anything else for native English speakers.

3. Past and past perfect stuff. Why is it so acceptable in English to get this wrong always? "I seen" and "I have saw" and "I had ate" and "we had forgot" and on and on. Ewww.

4. A rampant one in these parts comes up in the "should" and "might" and such contexts. Instead of "If I hadn't ruined my appetite, I might have been able to finish my supper," you get "If I hadn't ruined my appetite, I might a could finished my supper." What is that? I don't even know what that is! I think the "a" might be a "have" that is partially pronounced, which makes it "I might have could finished." Wow. You hear "shoulda could," "woulda could," etc. I think it's probably charming deep down, but it's a bit off-putting and it never slides by unnoticed.

5. Another one around here--and it's small--is that "I wish" always seems to be in the past tense: "I wished." As in "I wished I could go home early today." I'm not sure about this one--maybe I'm hearing some kind of vestigial "t" sound, maybe I'm making it up, but I could swear this is what is being said.

I should stop. I am not really so much peevish as uncomfortable with the whole thing. These things just always call out to me and perhaps it's an OCD thing or something, but I can't escape these things and just ignore them. I am honest when I say that I never miss these--I can't let them just slide by.

Oh, well. I'm sure this post is full of all sorts of stylistic and grammatical blunders, so I'll take the jousts in good stride. But I hope my point isn't lost along the way. What is my point, you ask? That I'm a really obnoxious person to be around.

The TV complex

2007-10-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

When I was six years old, my older sister and I were watching our little black and white t.v. Sesame Street had just ended and Mr. Rogers came on. I disliked Mr. Rogers. I had discovered that if you pushed the reset button on the back of the tv while it was on, it would turn off. I snuck behind the tv and pushed the button. Sweet sis turned it back on. I turned it back off. She turned it back on. (This is getting predictable, no?) As I went to hit reset again, sis anticipated it and turn it back on at the same time. A few sparks and smoke came out and that was it for the tv. My mom seemed elated and threw it in the basement.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp.

When we moved to a new state some years later, we rented someone's furnished house for a year. They had a tv. So we watched some. When my parents decided to stay in that state, and required that we children stay in the state as well, we at some point bought a tv. Actually, I think we had an RGB color monitor that could double as a tv. We had serious restrictions (PBS only for a few years), but we got to watch. Other than a revolting moment when we were forced to watch a show about having babies, it was nice.

I should say the entertainment was nice. The guilt--not so much. I don't know what it is, but there's some complex in the family about tv-watching. I'm sure it has something to do with all the garbage and mindless drivel. And yet, there's decent stuff too. And everyone would watch tv, so it was kind of silly to me to hear all the little comments about how only stupid people watched tv and how it was the boob tube and a waste. But that's the way it was.

We have multiple tvs in our home today. Sometimes we watch tv, sometimes we don't. It can go months without seeing anything, then months with us watching a bit. I'm not sure why it's inconsistent like that, but it is. We watch more movies than tv, but I'm not sure that's any better (except we don't have to watch the commercials).

I still have a complex though. I still catch myself pretending that I don't watch as much tv as I do. It's hard to dodge the occasional comment too. One of our tvs is ridiculously big--it kind of fell into our laps. I like it, especially for those occasional Red Sox games (big sports is nice). Also for movies with good cinematography.

Anyhow, with that background and those confessions, let me list a few truisms, according to me, about the tv:

1. Most of what's on tv is not worth watching.
2. Watching too much worthwhile tv is not worthwhile.
3. Some tv is educational and stimulating.
4. Most tv is corrupting and stupid.
5. Watching tv for entertainment is ok, provided that: you don't lower your standards (no soap operas, no game shows, no sit coms, for example), you don't watch too much (entertainment can be the salt that makes life interesting, but too much is just plain gross), you put first things first (family! church! work! physical activity!), you don't get hooked on something, and you don't start using the tv for companionship.
6. Some of the times family members of mine have looked the silliest is when they make gratuitous comments about how they don't watch tv or don't like tv or blah blah.
7. While tv can be evil, it's not the only evil.
8. Acting like tv is the only evil is hypocritical.
9. You shouldn't watch much tv.
10. A tv is a tv.

Well, I hope that clarifies my position on the issue. I haven't watched tv in months (as far as I can remember). What that means is that I can start feeling self-righteous for a while. And when I get tired of that, I can start watching again. Then after a while, I'll forget to watch for a few months, which will enable me to feel self-righteous again. It's a beautiful cycle.

As I conclude, I must say that this is an open forum and I'd welcome comments back. No one need agree with me. It's interesting, but this complex that I've been living with for decades seems to be a bit trendy all of a sudden. Do you have a tv complex? If you do have a complex, why? What is it? If you don't, why not?

Can't wait to read what my four readers might think.

Politics, dogma, orthodoxy, partisanship and David Copperfield

2007-10-10T22:40:00.000-07:00

Little David Copperfield had a bad run of it. Born into bleak circumstances, losing his mother, being kicked around, running from place to place, finding a hero in James Steerforth, lifting himself up by his bootstraps, being ever loyal and earnest and sincere, marrying the wrong way then finding meaning and fulfillment as a widower and finally marrying the right way. Tragic, but heart-warming. Vintage Dickens, who described it as his most auto-biographical novel.

C.D. and D.C. did little overt philosophizing in the book. It was a long, linear story about a young boy growing into a man. There were some poignant moments that seem to condemn 19th century English society, but I'm loathe to draw too many conclusions. I've heard Jane Austen described as a woman before her time who cleverly and subtley took stabs at English classes in 18th century England. When I read her, I can't help but conclude that people are trying to read satire into her to compensate for her apparent acceptance of society. The critics, I believe, are imposing their own cynicism on her. I find no objective evidence to support their conclusions (though I readily admit I'm no scholar in the field and have not even attempted to study this out). What I see is someone who was very much a product of her time and who was a master of character development.

My point is that I think David Copperfield is primarily a slice of life take from the author's own life, granted with fictionalized components. To read it as a social commentary is perhaps trying too hard. Having read the book, I don't see any clear reason to assume that Dickens was trying to condemn poverty, child labor or anything else. There's no doubt he considered such things tragic and wrong, but the text is more about life: pain, trial, friendship, love, loyalty, character, greed, ambition, growth, etc. It just so happens that the vehicle to paint that total picture is 19th century England--which was indeed bleak in many respects. I tip my hat to Dickens for tackling such a realistic (sometimes naturalistic) view of things. I think he was poking fun more like Gary Larson in The Far Side than Garry Trudeau in Doonesbury. He was never so self-conscious and determined as Trudeau, but had a sharp wit and couldn't help but poke fun at society in general. But was he political? I don't think so.

Well, I better stop with that before someone thinks I think I know what I'm talking about, because I know I don't.

Political and social commentary today is so often less artful. It's so often loud and in-your-face. Everyone has an opinion, whether they've bothered to develop it or not. Politics are more reactionary, imo, than thoughtful and considered. I have had endless discussions over the years with many people about politics, but few seem to want to discuss the matter, but prefer bold pronouncements. Where is the thinking taking place? Is anyone sitting down and mulling over political issues? If so, where are these people?

I have certainly run across people who appear to be reflecting about political issues, but really they appear to have theses. They appear to be trying to articulate for themselves what they've already adopted from others--the canned arguments they're learning to parrot from teachers, parents and friends. It's strange to me. Where has the dialog gone? Why the determined predisposition toward certain views? Where's the reasoning, analysis and discussion?

Most of my discussions with other people have fallen into the category of apology--listing the evidences and arguments supporting a predetermined point of view. But how did they get there? Why are they so unwilling to challenge their own biases? Why is there so much pressure to think this way or that? There's overwhelming self-righteousness everywhere. Policy decisions are always discussed as moral issues. Since when is universal health care a "moral" issue? Since when is mandatory minimum sentences a "moral" issue? Why can't we call them what they are--complex questions. Why can't we assume that those that think one way and those that think the other are honest, good people? Why do we say that immigration laws and campaign finance laws are matters of fundamental human morality? Why take dogmatic, rigid, polarized positions to issues? Why do both parties adopt views opposing the other? I rankle at partisanship and the need to have someone define my issues and my positions.

People talk about being progressive or liberal or conservative or libertarian or this or that. Those terms have lost meaning with me (if they ever had it). Why is spending tons of money on the military "conservative"? Why is the social security program "liberal"? Where is the common philosophy governing the positions? Frankly, neither major party seems to have a cohesive, uniform theory that governs its politics.

Politics isn't where it begins or ends. There's an ever-waging battle between so-called orthodoxy and so-called progressiveness. In my view, orthodox simply means it's old. Sometimes that means it's entrenched. Sometimes it means its reasoned. Who knows.

The questions of dogma, doctrine, orthodoxy and partisanship are fundamentally fallacious. The question shouldn't be whether it is conventional or unconventional, but whether it's right or wrong, or effective or ineffective. As long as it isn't wrong, there are a lot of possible right answers. Is taxing gasoline heavily right or wrong? I say it's neither--it's based on a policy assumption. It's not a fundamentally moral question. I don't deny that people's sense of morality underlies all policy and all laws, but that does not mean that policy is right or wrong in any absolute sense.

I always try to fight the gravitational pull of partisanship. I hope I can analyze policy on its own merits.

I think some of this view of partisanship is a fiction created by talking heads. I think most Americans vote across party lines. I hope so, anyhow. Not that the only right way to vote is for both parties. That idea reminds me of the false notions that "diversity is good" or "change is good." I disagree. Good diversity is good. Good change is good. Diversity that includes pedofiles, murderers and warmongers is not good diversity. Change that includes blowing up planet earth is not good change.

David Copperfield was ingenuous and searching. He was also tough and sometimes bold and outspoken. He made moral judgments and followed his conscience. He was tough-minded when decided, open-minded when searching. He was loyal to a fault and slow to judge and condemn. But when condemnation and judgment were due, he was unequivocal and sometimes fierce. There's no question that he despised Uriah Heep and had little sympathy for his pathetic upbringing and how that might have contributed to his evil (perhaps because whose upbringing could be more pathetic than David's?).

I think David Copperfield is the model of what I advocate here. He was neither partisan or dogmatic. But neither was he weak and undecided. He drew his own conclusions based on his own observations and did the best he could to follow his judgment.

I aspire to that model. Let's be clear: there's a difference between being dogmatic and simply being sure of oneself. Both may be unyielding and even stubborn, but one does it because of dogma, the other (I hope) because of reason and moral courage.

The world does not need fewer determined people--it just needs more people that are self-determined.

Ambiguity

2007-10-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

I've addressed vagueness, but only once mentioned ambiguity here. Multiple meanings wrapped into one word or phrase provides as much protection from clear understanding as vagueness does. Even the description of my blog under the title is deeply ambiguous. And beautifully so.

One of my many goals is to become an open book. I might impishly delight in obscurity, but some day I want to be like some people I know who are not obscure. This goes part and parcel with my sense of humor, which revels too much in taking people off guard. I want to be good, honest, open, up front. In the end, I want to be guileless. But it will be a real sacrifice (granted of something of no great worth).

Pronouncing "Bierbeekstraat"

2007-10-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

My childhood reading endeavors taught me how to mispronounce countless words. My reading vocabulary, in other words, was beyond my listening vocabulary. So "hedgerow" became "head-grrr-oh" in my head. Likewise, "hogshead" became "hog-shed."

So for all those people with little voices in their heads, "Bierbeekstraat" is roughly pronounced "beer-bake-straht." I am only trying to approximate the correct pronunciation, so that should help.

By the way, if you're still reading this post, it means roughly "ale stream street." Please do not attempt to imbue any grand significance in the name of the street--I don't drink and my "mental meanderings" are not drug-induced.

Music

2007-10-10T10:34:00.000-07:00

Music, for me, serves a few purposes: entertainment, energy for work, relaxation. It can also provide me with familiar voice and instrumentation and can be comforting that way. My deepest need that music serves, however, is spiritual. And the best music to fill that need for me, hands down, is classical. Hearing Mary's mourning in Requiem (Mozart) is a yearning call. The simple, resonant baseline of Cannon in D (much better than Cannon in D-flat, or, worse yet, C-sharp--see? I amuse myself), captures me. The choral effusion in Ode to Joy is exhilirating.

It's interesting, classical music for me is primarily about the spiritual, about seeking peace, comfort, englightenment, and, most importantly, deep, pensive reflection. It's not that way for everyone.

So here's my question:

Why do you listen to music?

Note to the reader: this is the interactive moment where I hope to learn something from you. While I'm reasonably intuitive, I have a hard time intuiting everyone's thoughts about everything. So, unless you post a comment here, I don't know if I'm going to gain much from my question. Since I post the question to learn, that would defeat the purpose. I realize I have no readers, but even they, surely, have comments. Thank you.

Language

2007-10-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

I am half explicit, half subtle. I mix clarity of speech with vague allusions. Well articulated ideas appeal to me as much as self-directed comments that only I get. I am as pleased with grand pronouncements as I am with amusing myself in my own way. I'm happy to make myself chuckle and to serve as my own audience.

Clearly there is some psychological flaw that feeds this.

But that's who I am. If you've ever read one of my poems (and I hope you haven't), I'm sure you came away either mystified or irritated. I don't pretend to be good at poetry, but I get devilish pleasure out of writing it. It's like my other creative pursuits: my forays into sculpting and painting, my development of endless spreadsheets calculating heaven-knows-what, my attempts at writing fiction, etc. In each case, I'm delighted to be crafting, even if it's mostly for myself. This is actually my third blog, but I'm certain that I am the only one ever to have read them all. I don't write for others' benefit or consumption, but to satisfy some inner need to get something inside of me outside of me. It's like vomiting, only for clearing the mind rather than the stomach.

This time, I will not hide who I am and allow anyone to read. I will not say who I am, but I won't hide it. There seems to be some modern need to be a literary exhibitionist--to allow strangers to see your thoughts in print. It's a strange phenomenon, but I don't think we should apologize for it. In a world bent on political correctness--by which I mean self-censorship designed primarily not to offend and secondarily to communicate--I think it is important to have a forum, whether public or private, whether written or oral or other, to have a say.

I don't think bloggers have grandiose ambitions, but mostly want to be heard. Is it exhibitionist by nature? Sure. But more profoundly, it is autobiographical. It is like prayer--it is about self-discovery. But rather than being directed at God, the source of all knowledge and power, it is directed at other flawed, limited people. It's a petition to mankind to hear. And by being heard, even if we're misunderstood and unappreciated, we are defining ourselves and discovering ourselves.

So, this is language in print. This is my attempt to communicate something to someone. It's imperfect. It is sometimes dark and confused, sometimes noon-day clear, but it's something. I am explicit and I'm vague and ambiguous.

Bierbeekstraat

2007-10-09T20:07:00.000-07:00

Bierbeekstraat is a short, narrow street, brick houses lining either side, with only a sidewalk separating the cobbled pavement from the front doors and facades. At one end is a pub full of frenzied soccer fans. Not far from the other end is a bridge over train tracks. I got lost once. If it weren't for the tracks, I may never have found my way back. The tracks acted like a stream in the woods--I knew I shouldn't cross them and that only one direction would lead me back to Bierbeekstraat. A short but intensely sincere prayer helped me pick the right way.

Not far from Bierbeekstraat is a cemetery. If you're far from home and suffocatingly alone, a cemetery can provide instant, sacred companionship. I'll never forget the quiet, familiar solitude of that beautiful place: trees, moss, headstones and peace.

When you're alone with no distractions, you get to know your only company--self. I spent many long hours in prayer, meditation, self-evaluation and self-discovery. To know God, you must know yourself. To know yourself, you must know God. Prayer is fundamentally about self-discovery. By communicating with ominscience, self is revealed. Its blemishes become achingly obvious, but with that clarity comes the power to repair.

Every person has one or more moments of profound significance when he elevates above the mundane to a higher plane. Almost invariably the settings are simple, but they become sacred by virtue of the life-altering experiences had there.

Thoreau had his Walden. Jesus had his 40 days in the desert. Joseph Smith had his Liberty Jail. Siddhārtha had his Bodhi tree. Moses had his Sinai. I have my Bierbeekstraat.