The Handwriting on the Wall

This Blog is absolutely the most exciting thing in my life right now. Some might say this is sad, that I have no life. Those people would be right. Mean, but right. The potential of the Internet is amazing. The ability to interact with others seems wonderful and limitless, and this is very exciting. However, I have not found it easy to really get this blog going. It is, to say the least, intimidating. I expected that I would come home every evening and get some solid work done, share some thoughts and ideas in cyber-space. Network. Interact. Inspire. That is what the Internet, and especially, the Blogosphere, is supposed to be about. The real democratization of information, of thought. Argghh. Perhaps I am just lazy.

Maybe though, it is the visibility. I have lived comfortably in the dark for many years now. Anonymity is like a warm blanket to cover up with, like a child reading after bedtime with a flashlight. Danger is kept at bay with the illusion of safety. I constantly hear a little voice saying, come into the light, there is no danger here. Shut up conscience. I resist, the brightness is blinding, and I fear what I would look like in the clear light of day. Ugly and evil. The handwriting appears on the wall. I am Belshazzar at the Feast. Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin. The verdict: found wanting.

How to make amends for my shortcomings? How to communicate with others? These are the questions that stick in my mind. Currently, only two or three people know the location of this blog. Few are granted a window into my existence. Part of me likes it that way. Sharing is hard. Admitting that I am not up to the challenge of life is hard. It is not something a man wants to do, that is, be seen as weak.

When I descended from my Ivory Tower, so to speak, into this modern world, I thought I was stronger than the rushing current of this wonderful city. I am a like a rock, I thought, in this river of life. There is no way I can be washed away. A foolish boast, it now turns out. I was very wrong. Thinking myself special, above others, different; all have proven to be false. New York City is the great equalizer. Even with money, the city controls and shapes your life. Hopefully, this painfully won humility will serve me well some day.

It seems everything in daily life has proven to be a challenge to which I am unequal, and most days I use all my energy just to keep a fleeting grip on the thin, twigless, leafless branch that has been extended to save me from drowning. I hear the wood strain and snap and I cringe; looks like I am going swimming after all.

There are many things I want to do, many ideas and efforts that I expect would make the world a better place and myself a better person, but time keeps slipping away. Swimming along, if only I could reach the bank, I think to myself, then I could accomplish something useful. Learning Chinese is at the forefront of my ambitions. This is easier said than done, work and life are draining and exhausting. I remember now that when I was young, and my father came home from work, all he wanted to do was relax a little bit before the cycle started anew. I understand dad. It is a sad revelation to realize that being grown up means there is not enough time for everything. So much responsibility, not enough energy. Is this what being a man is?

This is, in fact, the subject that still concerns me the most. What does it mean to be a man? My brothers and sisters, children of the Baby Boomer Generation, know well that our parents failed to equip us for the realities of adulthood. We did not mature the way previous generations did. On the outside, our life may seem blessed and easy. We have modern conveniences and limitless intellectual and material resources. It would seem that we have it made. Observing my own and others near constant depression and anxiety, however, I must dispute this assessment. Our hardships are not physical strife and suffering, but are the very real, if not corporeal, mental anguish of living in this modern day Matrix. Some days I exist in a fog of existence, seemingly groping my way through the day. Clarity is elusive here.

I have seen, however, in the countless people that I encounter everyday, late twenty and early thirty-something wanderers in this urban jungle, a desire and hope for something more. We all long to transcend this web of existence that binds us to its formulas and rules. Lost in this world of limitless information and opportunity, like seeds waiting long to sprout, we keep watering, praying for germination. Laboring in blue-collar service jobs, we dream of big futures. For most of us, however, the thankless labor exists simply to pay our exorbitant rent and have a little fun in New York. Cool bars and indie rock shows and perhaps a little ganja on the side, just to ease the mental stress of the city. Savings accounts, investments, forget it!

The human possibility that we have inside is kept tame by the necessities and rigors of this world. Where are we going and how can we, how can I, unlock this marvelous potential energy within? And, what will that even mean? A blog, a job, success, money, a woman? What!? My parents had careers and families by the time they were 25. At 32, I have no idea what to do next, and it scares me. What will I be when I am 50? Still a perennial loser?

Perhaps it will not matter. The world appears inexorably headed for catastrophe. The recent string of disasters and disturbing climate changes seem to herald a critical turning point for human life on earth. Do we change our ways, quickly now - for time grows short - or do we accept that this 'civilization' we have built on the back of science and industry is fated to fall. Would that be such a bad thing, to start over? Lately, I have been mentally and physically preparing myself for what only five years ago seemed a fantasy, the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine...

Humanity, is clearly on the brink. I don't need 80 degree November days, or crazy California fires to tell me that. The signs are here. The weather is accelerating, faster and faster towards critical mass. There are, nonetheless, hopeful signs also. It may be that Mr. Gore's recent bestowal of the Nobel Prize for his work on Global Warming is the portent of real change to come. I hope so. It will take more than hybrid cars and modest recycling programs to change the tide now. The precipice approaches.

Well, back to the 'real' world, snow has come to New York City, winter is back and I have gone native...

The Seed of Violence in American Culture

Amendment II

A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

-Bill of Rights, American Constitution

It is impossible to work for peace, while preparing for war.

-Albert Einstein

One after another, the shootings have come. Though it was not the first of its kind, the Columbine, Colorado massacre shocked the American public, both for its level of cold brutality, as well as for the young age of the assailants. Though marked as a critical example of senseless violence, Columbine was not the end of these seemingly random shooting. Gun violence continues.

In April of this year, a seemingly normal student at Virginia State opened fire on campus, killing 32 of his classmates and wounding many more. For weeks afterward, the nightly news was dominated with coverage of this terrible event. People sought a theory or answer to explain the gunman’s unpredictable rampage.

As is often the case, time passed and people stopped talking. In such a tragic situation, perhaps the victim’s families just wanted to move on, quietly picking up the pieces of their shattered lives, or perhaps the answers we sought were not forthcoming. It may be true that when such chaos strikes, many of us just want to go on with our lives, to simply pretend that the insanity did not happen. That the world in which we live is not really crazy.

Now however, recent events have demonstrated that there is truly an epidemic in this country. We have a big problem. Last week, an off-duty Wisconsin police officer shot and killed 7 people, after having an argument with his girlfriend. The dead included several young children. Not long after, there was another mass shooting, this one in Ohio, the assailant was only 14.

The question begs, “why?” What can cause us to become so enraged that we would seek revenge, not just against the people or person that ‘wronged’ us, but so many innocents as well? As a people, we have come along way from ‘turn the other cheek’ to the now endless stories of massacre after massacre.

In the twentieth century, the level of violence inherent in American culture has steadily increased. Gun ownership among private citizens is popular in America than any other country. Not just the utilitarian hunting rifles of the first pioneers, but ever more hand guns and military style assault rifles, whose purpose is not hunting animals for sustenance, but the killing of another human. Why are we so fascinated and enthralled with guns and the ability to kill?

Guns are the proverbial double-edged sword. They can protect us from an aggressor with a less lethal weapon, or even another gun, but they also allow untrained, undisciplined or unstable among us to kill easily. Not just to kill one person, but to kill in volume. Hence the prominence of these recent massacres.

Though both my grandfathers fought in WWII, one in ultra-dangerous PT boats in the Mediterranean, and the other on the front lines, planning with the Corps of Engineers, since leaving the military, neither has ever owned a gun. Perhaps life is not respected in the ways it once was.

It may be time to re-evaluate more than guns. As gun enthusiasts will always say – it is not guns that kill people, it is people who kill people. Where then does so much violence inherited in our society come from?

It may be brushed off by more conservative elements in American society, but the prevalence of violence in media and culture cannot be ignored. Growing up with a TV in my bedroom, I watched every sort of program imaginable, with almost no parental oversight. I saw thousands of murders on TV before I was 16. I watched as cartoons and video games became ever more realistic and violent. When I was young we had Super Mario Brothers and Frogger. Today, some video games are so realistic that the United States Marines uses them to train soldiers. The Columbine killers learned to shoot in this way. How can we not believe these images of violence find their way into the minds of our innocent and impressionable children? Don’t we have a responsibility to them?

While we pay such close attention to these news stories flashing across our TV and computer screens, it easy to miss the violence within oneself. Lately, I have been looking to see the true level of fighting and anger that I harbor in myself. Though I have, as of yet, never gotten into a fist-fight on the street, I often find myself screaming at the crazy cab drivers who run amok on New York’s streets. They deserve it, I think to myself. But the anger is strong, it becomes hate.

The truth is ugly; the seed of violence is deep within me.

The one that is really hurt, however is me. By getting angry, I am the one that is shaken, unsteady and unfocused. I know this anger is the first step down the dark path. I'm different from the Wisconsin police officer only in the degree of violence, not the essence of it.

The question of the new Millennium remains, what can we do to promote peace and harmony? In ourselves, our country and on this earth that so patiently tolerates the insanity of mankind. If we can make a turn away from this terrible course of violence and revenge,a harmonious world awaits.

What else do I have to say....

www.nytimes.com/2007/10/08/us/08wisconsin.html?hp

A Beginning

A new beginning is always good. This blog is, simply, about my New York life. What I consider to be my journey of discovery, walking through this beautiful city, and meeting its intense and interesting people. Nowadays, everyone is looking for something enlightening and spiritual, truth is in this topsy turvy world is elusive. Some may go to India to study meditation, others might join the Peace Corps. New York is my training ground. Where better to learn about myself and this world? The good, the bad, and the ugly exist here. And I want to understand.

New York is a place of motion and movement like no other I have ever been. There is so much energy here, some nights I cannot sleep. Finding peace of mind is a heroic effort, worthwhile, but a constant struggle. There is activity everywhere, and a barrage of image. Too Much Information. You have to walk down Canal street on a busy afternoon to understand the level of frustration that one can feel here.

I believe the effort of stilling my mind will one day make me truly strong, a worthy scion of my upright ancestors. Push-ups for my brain. Someone wise once said to me, that if I could survive in New York, I could live in, and in some way transcend, any city in the world.

Though I consider myself weak and easily fooled by the glitter and polished image of this world, I still long to be a righteous man, as my grandfathers and others of their great generation are. They fought a just war and took no personal credit. They fulfilled their loyalty to their country. Raised families and stayed together. They are my inspiration. I came here to be closer to them, but the demands of work and daily life often keeps me away. I have found deep shame within myself over this. I have to remind myself that I am only human.

As I watch my family cope with life, some with new babies, some experiencing tragic death (the suicide of my quiet 21 year old cousin), I realize that being 'grown-up' often means just not having enough time for everything. Responsibility is heavy. I don't know if I am strong enough.

It is never easy here. Living in this city, bursting at the seams with people, my anger often rises at careless drivers swerving into bike lanes or people who push to get in the subway. A few breaths helps me remember that being calm is more important than being right. To yield is to be benevolent, I tell myself over and over again. There are many chances to yield here. You can go first, I think to myself as I board the subway behind the crush.

New York remains, a city of people. Immigrants and natives, we all look for harmony together. Growing up in Texas, I always felt we were individuals. Everyone just looked out for them self. We lived isolated, encased in our brick homes or enormous trucks. Here, we are New Yorkers. We ride the packed subway together and sit in the parks on clear sunny days, grateful for some respite from big city life.

New York is a city about trying to find your way. Generations of people have come to New York chasing some kind of dream. Everyone comes here for a reason. Actress? Costume Designer? Model? Musician? Fleeing oppression or poverty overseas? This is the place to come. The bright lights and big city. I still not sure what I'm looking for, but it can be found here.

Instead of a horse, my mount on my journey is a beautiful all white fixed-gear bicycle. The bike's journey through physical space is indescribably elegant and quiet. My peace an quiet. Every second my life is in danger, my survival dependent on focus and calm., I have never felt more alive.

This rock that we call New York is also a place where it is easy to get lost. The many young people I meet are all in the same situation, we are 'getting by'. There is money to live, but always just barely. We are not starving, and I know I should be grateful, but working everyday to make the rent becomes an endless cycle.

In the movie Groundhog Day, Bill Murray says 'anything different being good', after living the same day over and over agin in a super-natural test of character and faith. He found his faith, and broke out of his groundhog day, I hope I can do the same.

I think about New York in the time of its original Native Americans caretakers. Trees and grass, snow covered meadows, before a skyscraper was ever built. Their peaceful spirit lives here still.

This is just the beginning, there will be more to follow...