Overpopulation
By Billy | August 11, 2011
This came from a discussion-argument on Facebook I had with a friend. I haven’t ever lined my thoughts out so precisely, so it’s become a post for my records and yours.
Overpopulation can not be in and of itself be the problem. There are other populations that are larger in number and in consumptive force than humans but are not to be seen as a problem for maintaining this fact. My particular example was ants, though I assume there are other living species that occupy more space and consume (bodily) more material to survive than human beings (especially if you consider fungus and plants).
There are more ants on the planet than there are humans. If you put all the ants on a scale and weighed it compared to all the humans, the ants would weigh more. If you put all the food that earth’s ants need to survive on a scale and compared it to all the food that earth’s humans need to survive for the same given time frame, you would see that the ants are more numerous, more massive, and consume more absolutely and per pound than humans.
You cannot say that the number of people is the problem, because there are other, more plentiful creatures that have higher consumptive needs than humans. If ppopulation number were the deciding factor for what we should work to change to stop the current unsustainability trend, then you should first get rid of all the ants and fungi who are consuming more than humans are.
The difference is that ants and fungi happen to produce as much or more than they consume. By consuming decaying, slow, injured, etc., things, they are actually being productive for their ecosystem. Production and consumption are, for much of the planet’s cycling, the same thing. Even parasites play a productive role by keeping populations in check, killing slow or careless animals, or whatever. So our problem is not inherently in our numbers, but what we do — particularly relating to our production/consumption ratio and what type of production and consumption we partake in. The type of consumption a parasite takes part in is one directional within a sinlge organism, but in the bigger scale actually contributes to the bigger ecosystem. Humans right now are not contributing to their ecosystem as a whole, and their numbers compound that problem.
I say that overpopulation is a distraction because it is something that I can’t combat by myself. Here are some of the options I, personally, have for combating overpopulation: Go into politics with the hope of mass sterilization or extermination, campaign for people to stop having sex/children anywhere from the local to global level, spend all day on facebook instead of starting a family, adopting as many African kids as I can get my hands on, or kill myself. (I am quite open to alternatives. I just made that list up, but it seems to cover the bases). It doesn’t seem a fight worth fighting because I really don’t see what good will come of it. Not only is it ignoring the root of the problem (since sheer numbers don’t matter in nature; [see above about Ants])
Because there isn’t much that I can do to combat it, and because it is a symptom of a bigger, actually conquerable problem, I see it as a distraction. Thinking about how everyone else in the world is contributing to a problem and the best thing I can really do is not do as bad as my parents did in having me is a really self-defeating, unempowering, action-less engagement. I propose we, instead, think more about how we can find a better balance with our ecosystem and think of what we can do instead of what we can stop doing.
Topics: Philosophy | Comments Off on Overpopulation
Global Warming: Is Al Gore a Deceptacon?
By Billy | August 5, 2011
This post is the end result of feelings I felt from this article on Global Warming.
http://borepatch.blogspot.com/2009/12/should-you-be-global-warming-skeptic.html
To be honest, I didn’t read it all. I didn’t even read most of it. Frankly, I don’t care whether global warming is real, fake, a deceptacon, werewolf, or Al Gore. I don’t care if it needs to be known as Global Climate Shift, and I don’t care how many parts per million I walk around in every day. These things are irrelevant and distract us from the point we would all be better served looking towards.
It should be recognized that eventually this world will get too hot. Humans won’t be the cause or solution to this, and it won’t even be a problem. We are, after all, just a rock in a galaxy in a Universe. The sun will melt the earth, and if it doesn’t, the earth can just wait until it’s sucked into the Milky Way’s black hole. In any case, we sure as hell won’t care about it, and “life will go on.” Life, here, indicating simply just the fact that Things is happening. As long as Things happens, which it always will, we can’t say, in the grandest sense, that good or bad even come into play. In the beginning (בראשית) there is no mention of badness. Things just were, then things were different and that was good, and things were differenter and that was good, and things will change again and it will be good. I think this is a pretty solid way to look at our Universe. They just Is (and be, and Things), so I’m going to look at it as Good. They’ll be that way without our help to think of them as good or bad. All I mean to say is that the planet doesn’t care how hot we make it. It didn’t care when we started doing stuff, and it won’t care after we die out.
So. Getting the colder aspects of Process Theology out of the way, let’s think about something for a moment. The destruction of a forest isn’t a “bad” thing, since the Universe is filled with explosions or creative and destructive nature every moment — an infinite array of it, too — and that’s not good or bad, it just is. However, I’m not connected to any of the stars that are already burnt out and I don’t care too much about them. I am connected emotionally to trees and forests I’ve gotten to know, and even trees and forests I haven’t gotten to know. That’s not even considering the people I’ve met and will never meet. Of course I have an appreciation for their life.
I don’t know if my fondness of the perpetuation of plant and animal life is evolved, culturally constructed, divinely imbued, or delusion — but it’s there. Not only is it there in me, but it’s so present in me that I believe it’s present in you — whoever the heck you are. I’m willing to bet you have a desire to preserve life — and that any disregard you have for another life or life-system stems from unawareness of how you are connected to it and therefore how important it is to you. Be that the case or not, it is likely more important, or at least valuable to you, to preserve life than whatever is gained from the destruction of it. It doesn’t matter why this is the case, it is just so. You want to create, contribute to, and benefit the planet (if not the entire Universe), even if it’s only because you’ll benefit most from it.
So, this is why you shouldn’t care about Global Climate Warming Shift.
Firstly, it’s unempowering: all of us are worse and more powerful than any of us. This is the bullshit we’re made to choke and chew on and through the current mode of thought. Your ancestors, your parents, your peers, everyone but you is collectively destroying everything. But you, you are singlehandedly responsible for and powerless about just about every aspect of that. So you’ve switched to a Prius? Well the Chinese still exist, so you’re just cutting your losses now. (I’m not gona say anything about lithium mining, I swear) Not only is the monster indomitable, but it’s imperative that you fight it. “We are about to lose a battle and there’s practically nothing you alone can do about it, but if you don’t do it anyway, it’s all your fault. Now get out there and get eaten by that dragon!” I’d rather try reason with the dragon and get eaten with my dignity and self determination, than go through the motions in a battle I’ve lost heart for. Global Warming isn’t a problem you can solve alone — and the second half of this sentence is the next point I’ll make — it’s not a problem that can be solved by being afraid.
The problem that global warming gets at is perpetuated by the fear tactics of the currently mainstream environmental movement. The current story goes that we are too powerful, too fast, and too smart for our own good. We need to subdue ourselves and trap all our potential and convert it into dismantling energy so that we don’t accidentally blow ourselves up with our own awesomeness. No. Let’s get some things straight. If we do happen to be powerful enough to destroy our amazingly balanced and beautiful planet, then we’re probably awesome enough to fix the things. If our economists and politicians are wily enough to trick people into believing capitalism is sustainable, then surely they are wily enough to trick people into thinking it’s cool to create worthwhile products and share yourself with the rest of the world for the sake of the lovely human contact. I can’t believe this paragraph came out of me trying to write about the badness of fear-motivation. I actually think politicians and economists will disappear as we start to really figure things out. SO
Fear and unempowerment… It doesn’t help us to be afraid of our future or be afraid of our capabilities. The reason we started unsustainable practices is because we were afraid. We were afraid we wouldn’t make it on our own so we started stockpiling. We started doing things that weren’t necessary for the sake of a feeling of security. When we find our solution to the causes of climate shift (remember, I don’t actually care if it exists), we will realize that the solution also encompasses a solution to our fear. This is because the things that cause global warming are caused by fear. Eventually it might come down to fear of cold, hunger, or bodily harm — but eventually we will see that our current method of fear-control (industrial farming, nuclear bombs, strip mining, you choose) is attacking our symptoms not the cause of fear. Maybe we need to learn as a species that sometimes you die. Maybe that would end a lot of the murder. I don’t know about all that, but I do know that this fear-motivation has gotten us into our current “what if we kill our planet?” worry-mode, and it won’t get us out. Back to the point above, empowerment and confidence will get us out. Not only will it save us, but it will make it much more enjoyable.
Now. Everything I’ve talked about so far has appealed to a more ethereal aspect of the global warming thing. These next points are the things that got me to stop thinking about global warming, even though I had been growing more and more concerned with it. There was no slow deflation of worry, just a transfer of energy. It all started when I read about a robot that had been designed to dig through landfills. Apparently it has become cheaper to dig through mountains of human “waste” than to dig through normal mountains looking for things to put in our cell phones and computers. We’ve only been using these computer parts for a couple decades and it’s already become quite hard to find in nature. The article I read didn’t make it seem like a simple task to find — it’s cheaper to do a lot of work digging through garbage than it is to find it “conventionally.” So anyway, I started to think that maybe the world was not totally infinite (though Russia is. I’ve been thinking about travelling around in Russia and… Russia is the only thing in the universe that is Infinite, and it doesn’t have lithium or gold or coal, it just has space and cold). Go figure. The world turns out to be finite. So we have created an economy that values perpetual growth and perpetual consumption (not just consumption, but more consumption than ever before… forever) while using finite resources (space, gold, coal, water, what have you). Can you think of anything else that consumes exponentially? I can. Cancer. If they had more letters in common, I’d think of a marvelous blend of the words Capitalism and Cancer, but instead I just need to say that they have the same philosophy towards (or away from) life.
Global warming is caused by spending tomorrow on today. It is caused by a wild industry that produces wildly inferior products that nobody needs, whose price is increased because it came from half way across the galaxy and is compounded by the fact that you have to buy a new one every six and a half months. Global warming is a symptom. Focusing on the symptom is not helping.
Fear and unempowerment have caused us to feel alone. This also goes the other way. Feeling alone has made us afraid and unempowered. This aloneness should be conquered from two directions, as well. We should stop feeling so alone, unempowered, and afraid by realizing that we are not alone, by realizing that we are powerful, and by realizing that we are, in fact, courageous. It should also be combated by doing things to put us closer to our neighbors; sometimes that involves being afraid and being without personal-power. I have never felt so alive or connected to my world (and its inhabitants) as when I have actually needed them. It was during the most hungry, cold, and shelterless days that I found the most strength… given to me by someone else! Our solution to being needy and afraid is to simultaneously accept that we are needy and afraid, and realize that we don’t need to be needy or afraid. In every case, it’s the being OK with it all that is most vital. When you’re in need of a place to stay, some food to eat, and a dry pair of pants, you suddenly become a piece of the bigger picture. You suddenly are injected into a community, once you allow yourself to reach out into it. The herd only moves as fast as its slowest member, whether or not the people* in front want to realize it. Someone in the back will help you out, and suddenly you have enough strength to slay that dragon.
(I really want to stand on my soap box and go on about the spiral of capitalism and what we’re actually doing with our lives, and I want to go on about industrial agriculture, fake soil nutrients, strip mining, forest gardening, tractors, monoculture, green washing, and many other things I feel strongly about that are related to this, but I won’t. I really want to avoid the fear and just leave it as mostly thoughts about causes. My solutions involve dreams of building robots out of junk I find and breeding domesticated brown bears (don’t know how that will fit in to the overall plan yet… hopefully the robots and bears aren’t in the same story, but stay tuned. If you see news articles in ten years about unstoppable robot brown bears, that’s me), and I don’t think my solution is right for you. My solution involves loathing fields of wheat and corn, and not being able to justify picking weeds out of the dirt. That’s me. I don’t want you to work like me. I want you to dig through your own feelings and find what your motivations are, and I want you to discover whether you truly enjoy being motivated by them. I think a deeper examination of our motivations and goals will happen to alleviate our worry about global warming, and do so in a much more enjoyable and sustainable fashion than worrying about stuff.)
Topics: This is my life | Comments Off on Global Warming: Is Al Gore a Deceptacon?
Mohnnudln
By Billy | July 30, 2011
I’m writing this post for myself and not for you. Sometimes I do that.
Today I tried to make an Austrian dish called Mohnnudln. When words end in “ln” it is a little like putting a ‘y’ on the end of a word. Mohn means poppy seed, nudel is noodle, but they’re little noodles. Noodlies. The dish is basically mashed potatoes + flour-til-it-becomes-doughy. Then roll the dough into little noodlies with your hands as if it were play-doh. Play dough. Hm. Now you have little logs of mashed potatoes, and you put them in a pan with a lot of butter (80 g of butter for 500 g of potatoes + 250 g of flour). Then you cook them a little, not to get them browned or anything, just so the butter is melted and they noodlies stay hot. Now you put 100 grams of sugary whatever (honey) and a splash of rum, then a ton of ground up poppy seeds. Easy. My recipe called for 200 grams of poppy seeds but I stopped slightly after the supersaturation point. I should have gone slower.
Well I am rather disappointed with my work. I boiled the potatoes for too long, I cooked them in the oven as the weird recipe told me to (after I floured them, but hadn’t mixed it in. Weird recipe, indeed) but did it for a little (just wrote a lottle, maybe I did cook it a lottle too long) too long, then I threw in way too much poppy seed for what was reasonable. In the end it came out as entirely edible, but rather… strange.
—
OK, so an actual Austrian person came in to give me her opinion and she tells me that this is what it should taste like. If you say so! So, I have apparently cooked Mohnnudeln properly, but just didn’t know that you’re supposed to bring a bunch of powedered sugar to the table when you serve it. Austrian food is so weird. I’ve never seen powedered sugar in my house in Virginia, and it goes in Austrian spaghetti, potatoes, salad… everything. Maybe they are using powdered sugar in everything that we already have high fructose corn syrup in. Hm.
Well. If you make this recipe, even if you put 100 g of honey/sugar in it, you need to put powdered sugar on top when you serve it! Now we know.
What I was originally going to say in this post was this: At the Harrisonburg community center, Our Community Place, we have a rule in volleyball. If it’s your first time playing volleyball on the OCP court, you get 1 re-do at serving on your first day. After that, you never can redeem it again. This rule is nice because it instills a sense of confidence and an understanding of welcomeness to the new players. It’s evident in their faces and attitude upon hearing the rule. Why don’t I give this to myself when cooking? From now on, the first try at cooking any new recipe is to be taken for granted as a possible mean-nothing-because-you-get-a-re-do event. Even if this Poppyseed Noodlies recipe had come out crazier than it was meant to, I shouldn’t get mad at myself for doing a poor job at following the 5th (or something) recipe I’ve ever tried to do alone. That’s not a very good way to get good at anything. (Boy, I was really frustrated at my cooking abilities after I finished today)
For your knowledge,
Austria, especially Niederösterreich where I reside, is potato and poppy land. You can see fields of them growing everywhere you go, and their recipes are heavily influenced by them. They have strange desserts made primarily of poppy seeds. I don’t like it too much, but will try to make it for my family when I’m a little better at following directions.
Topics: Utterly Random | Comments Off on Mohnnudln
The Homesick Post
By Billy | July 29, 2011
Everyone asks me if I’m homesick. Such a question doesn’t but me as it would have two years ago; people should know that I can hardly comfortably explain my feeligns in my mother tongue and they should expect that I can’t convey how I feel in Denglisch. I should know people don’t know that about me and not expect them to.
The answer I give them is a “I’m not homesick, but I think about my home across the sea a lot.”
That’s a pretty comprehensive answer, actually. This post is that answer exploded into whatever happens from now until I push the “Publish” button. Rarely do I give the title before I post, but this post I have already decided and will now only surprise myself with the content.
Four months ago… I was in Austria. One year divided by 4 months is 3. That is a full 1/3rd of a year. I have lived in Austria for more than the length of an entire season. I came here and it snowed every so often, and already the grain fields have become guilded and stiff. (come to think of it, I think I’m always behind the season. I’m always surprised when the snow melts in that way that you know you wont see snow again for a while, and right now I’m astounded that it’s already August)
I’m not missing my home, I’m just thinking of it all the time.
Maybe that’s me kidding myself. Maybe that’s me missing it. I don’t know. I usually focus on the things that I don’t miss; maybe I need to, maybe I’m too critical. In fact, I express an awful lot of criticism for the US. Even while I do that, I’m the only one who is allowed to offer this criticism. No, we don’t all eat only McDonalds, and no, we’re not all warmongers. (right?) These are things that I have been thinking about but haven’t formed into conscious thought until just now.
I do miss people. I miss my family. I miss my brother whom I haven’t seen in far too long and with whom I haven’t had and endless stretch of time to forget about the future during since the future we pretended didn’t exist happened. I miss my sister and her enlightening points of view; things she tells me in two sentences are thoughts I couldn’t fathom when I was her age. I miss my parents and their many quirks, but most of all their example, kind words, and the comfortable space they create — even if it’s just in the potential that I can come home whenever I want from wherever I’ve gone and whatever I’ve done and it wont matter.
I miss my partner, Miranda, who reminds me best who I am, want to be, and am capable of being. I miss my friends from Harrisonburg, from Fairfax, and from the mountains. I miss their motivation to accomplish things, their ability to have fun, and their music. I miss banjos and mandolins and fiddles and guitars and and how they found a way into the world I found myself in. I miss the concept of a front porch, which I haven’t participated in while in Europe. I miss sitting on a porch drinking wine, plucking a guitar, telling my friends to quit smoking, while we do absolutely nothing.
I miss having a predictable schedule which includes scheduled down time. I think this comes from being with children every day. Living with children is a full time job. Not full time like those silly 40 hours a week jobs, but full time like the kids aren’t even in the house right now and I am in some way responsible for them. Even if I don’t have a supervisor to tell me that’s so, I have my conscience to tell me.
Come to think of it, I love my United Statesian life. I will have so much more to offer it when I come home, which is certainly one of the reasons I am staying here, but there’s really great things about my life across the puddle. Hm.
All this fizzled out. I think I’m going to go sit in the church across the street for a while.
Topics: This is my life | Comments Off on The Homesick Post
The Breakfast Post
By Billy | July 24, 2011
I. Love. Breakfast.
If you didn’t fully comprehend the potence of the first three sentences in this post, please go reread until you completely understand how much I enjoy eating breakfast.
If only I had sexier hair and a better dress, I would make a video like this lady to talk about my passions in a more collected manner. But I don’t so I will have to just state it in words.
Where do I start? Hm…
When I was younger I hated breakfast. I actually couldn’t stand to eat it. Not just in a childish I-don’t-like-this sort of way, but I genuinely felt sick every time I ate breakfast before school. I assume now it had something to do with the crazy pills I was on, which tore apart my appetite like a hungry breakfast eater tears into the skin of their morning peach. Whatever did it, I felt sick at the sight of food until the afternoon(, at which time I felt just about nothing. As a kid I would throw my entire lunch away before I sat down in the cafeteria, then as I grew up and knew the value of food more, I would eat the oreos, then I felt bad for wasting so much food so I started eating 6 bites in total of the ham and cheese sandwich, and giving away the oreos.). Now, thank the gods, I am cured of that affliction, (not the one I was taking medicine for, just the effects of the medicine) and in any case enjoy breakfast very thoroughly.
My dietitian informs me that protein is the most important thing to get from your breakfast. That means two Diet Cokes is not an appropriate breakfast, dad. It does seem to imply that a t-bone steak is a decent breakfast, but you might be better suited with some whole grains and some free range eggs, which have 1/3rd the cholestorol of non-free range eggs, so you can eat 4/3rds the amount of eggs!
My breakfast of choice is oats. Well, right now there’s a dove someplace nearby who hoo-hoo-hoo’s about every 4 seconds. If I hadn’t already eaten, I might consider them as a tasty alternative. Austrian people have not experienced a whipporwill, but this is bad enough. Doves really do fly past windows like they do in Disney movies (The Hunchback of Notre Dame, perhaps?) Anyway.
Today I had what we call muesli. It’s pretty much cooked oats and then whatever else — I like the “berry muesli,” which is a wild assortment of freezed dried berries which are way too intense before they’ve soaked up the milk and rehydrated + granola. Can I tell you how much I like chewing granola? It is the second best (edible) thing to chew on, following cabbage closely.
When I fill my bowl with muesli, I always fill it just a little, because I love finishing it and deciding I have room for more. It’s amazing. I like to imagine I just bought a really nice meal at a fancy restaurant, but since it’s a fancy restaurant they only give you a really tiny portion. And, of course, if you are still hungry you have to order another ridiculously small portion to fill your stomach half way. But what’s this? The sous-chef fancy’s you and has sent you a free meal? You get to refill your bowl now, completely free of guilt or cost? OK!
Sometimes I make “om nom nom” cookie monster noises when I eat breakfast, or I will laugh at how ridiculously pleasure filled it is and how the Kingdom of Heaven is IN MY FREAKING BOWL. In Buddhism it is called “satorie,” which is a compound Sanskrit word that cannot be translated, but scholars frequently use the rough translation of “morning plate Enlightenment,” when they have no alternatives and must give some definition or description. How do you think Buddha got so fat. The fat Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, became so fat, like most Buddhists are, because he eats so much delicious breakfast! (The story goes that Buddha was a wandering ascetic who ate mostly pine-needles for breakfast, and one day he almost died from hunger (go figure) so a girl took him and gave him some “berry muesli,” and he was rejuvenated. As he reclined under what is now known as the Bodhi Tree, he burped and became enlightened.)
Seriously. Berry Muesli won this morning in a competition between “Do I want to go back to sleep?” and “Do I want to eat Berry Muesli.” I got 6 hours of sleep and would rather eat Berry Muesli than finish the sleep schedule. I even like writing about how much I like Berry Muesli so much that I haven’t taken my nap yet.
Sometimes between chews and swallows I think (oh my god!) like the lady in video I linked to. The Bermueslian word for “oh my god!” is, “mmmmm.” I think I’m almost fluent in the language.
OK.
So my excitement has died down a little bit and NOW I’m ready for my nap.
Before I forget, I think you should ALL watch this trailer for this movie. It’s one of the best movies I’ve ever seen.
It sounds like the first words in the trailer are a VERY thick Indian accent saying “a robot!” but it’s actually a not so bad Indian accent from a robot saying , “hello world,” which I think is clever. It took a non-native English speaker to catch that, though.
Topics: Philosophy | Comments Off on The Breakfast Post
That’s OK Man I Got No Self-Esteem
By Billy | July 15, 2011
I recently read an article that introduced a revolutionary new term to me. It is called self-compassion. This isn’t a magical new combination of letters for many people. The idea of self compassion isn’t difficult to understand at all. What was so new for me was what the article paired self-compassion up with, and that was self-esteem. I think I vaguely remember the article talking about self-esteem being a newly recognized idea in the last couple of decades and that self-esteem has been a heavy focus by child psychologists and pushed into the general groupthought of how to raise children correctly.
I have done a lot of pondering about self-compassion and comparing it to self-esteem and find the compassionate path far superior to the esteem path. Let’s look at just the very notion of what self esteem is. If you don’t know what the words mean, you know that self-esteem has to do with how you feel about yourself. You know that you can have high self esteem and low self esteem. You know that when someone praises you, your self esteem usually goes up and when someone criticizes you harshly, your self esteem usually goes down. What we don’t always think about, but is true nonetheless, both when focusing on the linguistic aspect of the term “self esteem” and the practical and real-world feelings associated with self esteem, is that self esteem is comparative. Nothing can be esteemed if it is singular. Our Universe, for example, cannot have an esteemed value because it is absolute. There is nothing outside the Universe, and therefore it cannot be esteemed above another Universe, nor can it be inferior to another Universe. Personal esteem comes only from comparison.
Sadly, it seems to me more difficult to compare how ‘good’ one Universe is to another. I imagine a second universe would have to be so differently constructed that the goodness or badness could not be accurately compared. (Furthermore, since a Universe is a complete unit, it has both Good and Evil constantly play their little game with each other. A scale with infinity to the power of infinity on both sides stays balanced. Thus, I don’t think one could compare two Universes because they are both just a Thing. [Further furthermore, if there were two Universes, there’d probably be a 3rd and a 4th and a 5th and an infinite array of more out “there” wherever there is, until we realized that “there” is the Universe, and we were just talking about universes with a lowercase ‘u,’ but all this is beside the point. Sort of])
Shouldn’t people be just as difficult to compare as a Universe is? Do you know a single person who is finitely complex? I don’t. In order to create an esteem scale, we need to first finitize people to units — tiny calculatable equations that determine their score. The equations, the value of the answers, and the implications of where you fall on the scale are all determined by your culture. Since people are different, it is a mathematical necessity that the majority of people in any given culture are unhappy with themselves if they use the self-esteem method to determine happiness. Looking past the fact that virtually nobody fits the “ideal” person that culture establishes as the meter stick to whom we should all compare and rate ourselves, there is still the problem that you can not use any sort of meter stick to measure a person! Which planet is better, I ask you, Jupiter or Saturn? “Saturn, because it’s got the rings!” “No, ‘Jupiter because it’s so big and has a more interesting topography!’” Who is right? Nobody. You can’t say Saturn or Jupiter are better, they just are. Someone has to determine that rings are good or bad, size equates to value, perpetual red tornados are worth extra points, etc., and if they actually believe they have the absolute ‘correct’ answer, they’re probably tricking themselves into being right or good at something because they constantly compare themselves to someone they see as better and don’t value themselves appropriately.
Which is better, Greek or Russian? Hm. Who is better, a Greek or a Russian? Should I feel bad because I can’t speak Russian? I hear it’s pretty hard… If I chose to lower my esteem level because I can’t speak a more difficult language, I’m choosing to value the ability to speak Russian higher than the ability to speak English, and then I’m choosing to momentarily ignore every other aspect of my personhood, like the fact that I can speak tidbits and big chunks of a wide array of languages, or that I feel comfortable speaking, writing, and constructing in my native language, which is a feat I feel very good about and comfortability is something high on my personal scale of “goodness.” Thus, I allow myself to lower my “esteem value,” then once I’ve lowered to the next run, I turn back on my idealism that speaks rhetoric about valuing people equally. (I don’t know if this is autobiographical or hypothetical… Wait. Autobiographical should have a better contrasting word than hypothetical… Hypothegraphical? Fudge.)
So. I’m pretty much done bashing self-esteem for now. (It’s funny that I’ve spent my whole post explaining why comparing things is worse than not comparing things. Get it?) If you want to base your self worth on the opinions of people who don’t know you, comparing yourself to myth, arbitrarily chosen values, and the blind chances that you had to be given skill, talent, or the “good” features (like being tall, having white skin, or whatever other uselessly arbitrary thing The Man has decided is good) to make you, therefore, good, you may. One more thought. If you’re the fastest runner in the world, then you’re tied for second as “the best at running second fastest.” (3rd fastest runner might also be “the second best at running second fastest.”) No matter what way you look at it, you will always be behind. It’s an impossible endeavor because the number of spots your competing for grows forever.
I’m choosin’ to ignore self esteem and value myself for the sake that I deserve it.
A funny thing had been happening to me a while back. I was being really mean to myself, thinking I wasn’t worth too much and that I didn’t deserve too much goodness in my life. I couldn’t help, even then, to note the irony of placing so much value in the internal words of someone who I believed wasn’t worth listening to. Imagine every time someone insulted you, they became less credible, but you believed them more every time. That’s what was happening. Anyway, I was trapped in the esteem cycle. I had chosen where I’d place my values, decided that they were infinitely unattainable, decided I should strive for them and use the discouragement as motivation to try harder, then when I collapsed and died, I could look back and think, “look at all that important crap my negative motivation had accomplished.” It became a virtue to never be satisfied. (I made living in dukkha a martyr status, it seems)
Well, when I started being compassionate, things started turning around. At first, it was because something in me screamed for justice. Everyone deserves it, and I know that. I tried to rationalize why I deserved justice using philosophy and religion and utilitarianism and monkey wrenches and nihilism. I tried everything. Right now I believe that I deserve justice because I do. I also believe that I deserve it because I’ve chosen to deserve it. I believe I’d deserve it if I didn’t choose it, but especially because I do. (read my post about Doublethink if you don’t understand why I don’t care about fallacy anymore)
So. Compassion came as an intuitive burst a first. It took a whole lot of tears and scars and screaming and therapy and exercises and experiments, but eventually I started to make a habit of self-compassionate thinking. Only I didn’t know it at the time. There’s something to me about having a name for a thing. If I find a heavy piece of metal in the yard and it happens to be perfect for breaking things apart, I feel pretty cool about it. But when someone names it an axe or a hammer or whatever it is, I now am not just playing, I’m working. I’m participating in a legacy that’s gone on for as long as the idea of hammering stuff has gone on. I was always participating in the hammering legacy, but now I know it. There is power in language. (I imagine most people who have been diagnosed with a mental disorder and people who have been confused about the way the way they express the sexuality might find a particular resonance with the powerful (good and bad) that comes with a label or a name for a ‘thing.’) In the book of Genesis, God giving Adam the power to name things is synonymous with God giving Adam dominion over them.
So. Compassion is an important thing. I think it’s important to know that this self-care is actually self-compassion, because compassion is such a natural and recognizable thing — compassion for others, that is. When dealing with children who are too young to comprehend self-esteem, we treat them with only compassion. You don’t think of one baby as cooler or cuter or better than another, you just treat them with goodness and love, and when they throw up, shit, and piss on you just as you realize the diaper you just took off was completely clean, you don’t compare them to anyone else and you don’t get angry (for long), you just love them. After a child toddles around for 4 seconds and falls down, you don’t consider how your status of “walker” is highly esteemed over the child’s status of “hardly a walker.” You pick them up and love them.
I’m just thinking of some of the things the voice of compassion I talk to every night in my journal displays:
Compassion is not blind to failure, it just doesn’t really worry about it.
Compassion isn’t anxious to get something done; compassion has time.
Compassion is gracious. (the Hebrew word for grace is hannah, and it comes with the idea to blot out a sin as if it never happened. When you have been granted grace, you are a new person; completely free from your past failures. Nobody can ever re-breathe their previous breathe; we are something new every moment)
Compassion is joyful at success, and understanding with failure.
Compassion knows instinctively what to do to help calm a situation down.
Compassion is firm in its belief that you not only deserve getting a better, but are capable of producing a better life.
So. After having started to write those out, I realized that they sound an awful lot like a lot of Hallmark Cards (Is it also a bible verse?) about Love. Patient, Kind, yadda yadda.
No seriously. I think that’s great. When I think of my day at its close, I open myself up to compassion. This allows me to truly celebrate my triumphs, not as domination over anyone, but as one rejoices in the triumph of a child taking their first steps. Imagine if you had been raised to be excited for winning a track race with the same type of excitement (for yourself) as your parents had for you when you took your first steps. Imagine if you had an infinite supply of the encouragement the same quality as that which you got when you pointed to random things from the stroller and said the English word associated with it. Imagine if the same compassion and understanding that you gave to other people were suddenly appropriate to give to yourself?
Rather, imagine you were as mean to your friends as you were to yourself. Imagine you had a lunch date with a friend, but forgot to go because you were playing First Person Tetris and got distracted. Now imagine that whatever (most likely not actually verbal) metal word lashings you gave yourself for forgetting, you also had to give to your friend whom you didn’t know had also forgotten. Even if your friend forgot and you didn’t, you’d still be very nice about it, most likely. “No problem, don’t worry. I got some time to think!” But if you forgot, you would worry, and you would make it a problem. Why does everyone in the world but you deserve your compassion?
So there. Think about it for a while. I think you should consciously try to cultivate a sense of self-compassion. I think it’s better, and in the end, it actually makes me more productive and capable of doing things, because I have so much more energy now that I don’t put so much energy into worrying.
Also, people who like themselves are seen as way cooler than people who don’t, so you should do it for that reason. Also, Jupiter is better than Saturn because of the spot.
Topics: Philosophy, This is my life | Comments Off on That’s OK Man I Got No Self-Esteem
Mama Afrika
By Billy | July 10, 2011
I’ve never been an “Africa person.” It seems that there is a decent chance for people to think some particular culture is really cool (often cooler than theirs) and that might be their thing. It’s not that I have ever disliked Africa, or been indifferent about it, but that I have never felt a tug to Africa that other people I know have. Rather, I would have to be an “India person,” if there’s such a thing as an “Africa person.” Indian culture, history, mythology, religion, art… I find that all impressive and intriguing in a way that I just haven’t felt about Africa. I met someone last night who is all about South America, and I know plenty of people all about Celtic, Greek, Oriental, or multitudes of other cultures.
This weekend was about Africa. So like it or not, everyone I met this weekend was an “Africa person.” This weekend, my friend Marcus hosted his 11th Annual Africa Festival. I assumed, for some crazy reason, that this festival would be more similar to my experience with Germanic? Barbarian? What the heck. How do I group the German speaking world together? Well, I assumed it would be like the tree themed festivals, or Oktoberfest, or something that is generally a come, crash, go home the next day type of event. In actuality, this weekend was much closer to my experience with festivals in North America. Particularly, Kasumama Afrika Festival was similar was Cornstalk Festival in Wysteria, Ohio.
My host mom, Alex, asked me on Friday night, “Oh, would you like to go to the festival now? We can drop you off. Here’s a tent.” I thought, since I’ve been there to help set up and since I know Marcus personally, that I would be the exception by bringing my tent and staying there. Duh. This is a big festival where people come from 2+ hours away and have high tech tents or tipis or cars that turn into tents and tipis at the same time (almost but not actually.) There was a tent city, and poi (without fire) spinning, and the herbal smell of hand rolled cigarettes in the air. There was, of course, rain (if you didn’t know, it almost always rains whenever I go camping. Especially if it’s an unusual time for rain — like the epic drought in New Mexico that I demolished by conjuring hailstorms). It conveniently rained every evening, with intense lightning shows and heavy gloppy drops of rain, which kindly stayed away from the inside of my tent.
Like any non-music themed gigantic festival, there was certainly music. There were workshops on African dancing and drumming and jewelry making, all of which I participated in to some capacity. I danced something called Kukuwa in college, which was a mix of African and Caribbean dancing, so dance workshop was actually just a review, it seems. The drum workshop was very basic, and the jewelry making intuitive. I don’t think I gained many important or helpful skills from this weekend — whereas I learned how to do blacksmithing in Wysteria. I think I got two major things out of this weekend, though.
Firstly, I gained a great appreciation of African culture. It was marvelous to see so many African or African Austrian or whatever they were/indentify as drumming and dancing and showing off their wares. There were thousands of cool articles of clothing, trinkets, toys, recycled dealies, things made of old tires, and, of course, African food! So good. There were plenty of not-exactly-African themed things going on, to be sure, like Aum symbols on sarongs sold in a couple tents — next to the Buddha statues and what not. That’s ok. It was beautiful to see these people so proud of their heritage in a place that seems to me so far from their cultural home. I couldn’t help but find it strange to hear people in traditional Ghanain dress speaking German. I found myself searching for the few Swahili phrases I know, or at least trying to conjure my French up to initiate dialog. Most of them spoke German, some English on top, and some Spanish on top of that. It was especially fun to see the little kids who had maybe been adopted by Austrian folks running around the place. Where there’s water in Austria, and when it’s summer, you’re pretty likely to find a couple naked children running around playing together. It made me think of Kirikou et la Sorciere, a marvelous film about an African boy who runs around naked and beats up witches.
The main thing I think I really gained from this festival was confidence. I noted while I was helping set up the festival that the menu in Markus restaurant has suddenly become sensical to me. (Why is nonsensical a word if sensical isn’t?) My first week here, I tried to read the spiesekarte, and I didn’t understand anything. Now I can read, order, and even tell the wait staff whether they are holding my plate or someone else’s plate (which also requires recognition of the food I ordered). That was a nice confidence boost. My first night there, I worked security with a lady named Corinne. We walked around the grounds checking to make sure everyone had the right wristbands on, or else we’d have to kick them out. The fact that we were supposedly doing it was more important than our actual presence, I’m sure. We didn’t do anything. Not even catch someone with an open fire in the campgrounds or a dog in the festival space. But, after walking around 100% of the festival and having not said anything, I realized I needed to say something. I had to find something new to say every lap we made, or else I’d feel totally lame, so I found more stuff to talk about. In fact, I did a better and better job with every lap.
Corinne explained to me the difference between Western and English riding styles, how long she studied and in which city, what she does in her job, and lots and lots of other things. I explained that I spend my time making a banjo, or other projects with wood, and reading, playing instruments, and writing. I hadn’t realized how impactful that first night was until about 5 minutes ago when I was relaying the order of things. The next night I couldn’t justify taking an official position working because my humanpower wouldn’t have been worth the food and drink card that you get for volunteering. Instead, I hung out with the family, who showed up half way through the day. While playing with the kids, I sat by the one firecircle on the grounds, and talked to some people. I had several 10+ minute conversations with people about a wide array of things with virtually no English involved. It was really great. One of the ladies I talked to questioned me so thoroughly as to why I don’t have more friends in Weitra that I can’t think of a good reason that I don’t. She was encouraging in her words and in the fact that we could speak to one another thoroughly. That’s something I’m especially happy about.
Now I’m going to go shower the lake water and all that grows in it out of my hair. Today two people mistook me for a workshop leader because of my hair.
P.S. People is just people: In Austria, too, there’s always that one gal/guy in the corner dancing like a crazy person and you can’t figure out if he’s on mind altering drugs or if he’s always like that but it really doesn’t matter because he’s so great. One thing I’m beginning to fully realize being so far from home is that in the end, we’re all the same.
Topics: This is my life | Comments Off on Mama Afrika
Schloss Weitra
By Billy | June 30, 2011
It wasn’t until I had walked through the entire courtyard, up the stairs, through the iron gate, up the next few stairs, and came upon the courtyard from the second floor did I realize that the courtyard was, indeed, outside. In fact, I hadn’t noticed much about any part of the castle until I took a second look. I suppose the architects would be proud of themselves for this. I suppose if I could tell these builders that in 810 years someone from a part of the world that doesn’t exist yet came to visit their building to watch a play in a language that also doesn’t exist yet, their heads would explode. I would like to think I could compliment them on the longevity and beauty of their construction before that happened.
I didn’t allow myself to contemplate 800 years. I kept it at a cool 400; partially because I wasn’t sure of the age, partially because I can’t imagine 800, but 400 is twice as easy, and partially because 400 is enough. Arches, iron bars, stairs, rooms, balconies, stars, plants. I bet the painting in the corner of that angel playing a lute wasn’t there 400 years ago. I bet that angel doesn’t even know how to play the lute, judging how he’s holding it. But that doesn’t matter, angel music sounds good however they play it.
I felt under and overwhelmed simultaneously in standing in a room which was probably not fulfilling any purpose remotely close to its original or planned purpose. Maybe the builders felt like I did when they made all those rooms for the rich guys… maybe the rooms felt like I did. What the heck is supposed to go on here? How can anything short of the entire 3,000 person village working together with a single purpose possibly fill this castle’s empty corners?
After purchasing our tickets for Much Ado about Nothing, whose name I think I finally understand (it’s because everyone was upset over nothing, you see), that we came across a perfect gentleman. His coat and vest and graph paper shirt, his socks and slacks and shoes and well kept moustache had never for a moment been out of style, and would never go out of style. He, in great contrast to the wild haired man directly between me and the view of the actors, fit snugly in his spot at the bar in the room. He was larger than life, but didn’t take up anyone’s space unless they let him. I do believe he has lived in the castle, as an exact embodiment of the era, since about 1342.
Hm. I guess this, whatever it was going to be, ran out of gas. Not everything has a plot, OK?
Topics: Uncategorized | Comments Off on Schloss Weitra
Songs About the Country
By Billy | June 30, 2011
I live in a very small town. If you didn’t know. I like it. Very much.
I shan’t live in this small town specifically, but I do believe I shall live in a small down when I settle down.
These are songs about the country.
and
I especially like Canadian Goose. Actually, Trash Collector is just generally amazing.
You can listen to more of their music here: http://www.reverbnation.com/trashcollector
I especially like… all of it.
Also, while searching for Cathy from Canada’s music online, I found this, which is an added bonus.
Topics: Music, Uncategorized | Comments Off on Songs About the Country
Doublethinking 1985
By Billy | June 27, 2011
Usually I sit down to the other side of rumbelow.org with some idea of what I will be writing. (I never know what I will title the post until it is finished. I learned that writing poetry.) Today I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been busy. Actually busy. I’ve been writing, singing, playing, hurting, searching, finding, forgetting, dreaming, writing, failing, trying, trying over, and learning. I’ve been doing nothing. I’ve been doing everything. Blah blah blah. I don’t feel like following this string so I shan’t.
I believe firmly in that apostrophe between the ‘n’ and ‘t’ in the word shan’t. I am mostly sure it is incorrect according to standard on every side of the Atlantic ocean, but I believe it belongs.
In fact, I believe a lot of things that don’t belong. I learned this past week that a large chunk of my beliefs fall into what George Orwell (I actually had to look that up because Orson Welles was the only name to come to mind. I read Animal Farm and 1984 this past week.) calls doublethink. For those of you unfamiliar with doublethink, don’t worry. It’s a mostly paradoxical concept that can be interpreted in as many ways as a Zen koan or as the Zohar. That means that the more you feel giddy andstupid thinking about it, the closer you are to understanding it. Doublethink is integral to keeping people downtrodden in the dystopian London scene created in 1984, but it is Enlightenment across the globe. I wish I had to read 1984 for a class, especially a class full of people who disagreed with what I’m about to say, but I mostly liked the dystopia Orwell created. I may love Big Brother more than most of the people in the book. That doesn’t stop me from hating Big Brother and genuinely believing that I, personally, would be Robin Hood or Zoro or V or Tyler Durden or Guy Fawkes or Rorschach or some other masked lunatic with the personal goal to assassinate the name and force behind him.
Where was I? Doublethink. Doublethink in the book is using logic correctly when it serves you and using it fallaciously when it serves you. (Using anything to serve you fallaciously is fun, as a matter of fact.) It is telling yourself things are better now than they were yesterday, and forgetting yesterday and making it true. It happens to be exactly what the silly catch phrase under “Rumbelow: A combination of meaningless syllables” at the top of this page means. Things are not what they seem, nor are they otherwise.
I am a doublethinker. I practice it, I invest in it, I thrive in it. I think it wonderful, important, and fun. But if you press me about it, I will acknowledge to you honestly that it’s useless and I don’t adhere to it. It is perhaps the most frustrating thing in the world because you cannot beat it. It is the least frustrating thing in the world because it is softer and more yielding than water. I hope you understand how delicious this is to me.
Some of my exercises in doublethink are these:
The moon is not and has never been a rock smaller than the Earth that is relatively near the Earth in galactic proportions. In fact, the Moon is just a hole in the black velvet up there. If you watch long enough, you might see an eyeball watching down, or even straight up to the Blue Sky that exists behind the velvet. We can’t see the rest of the Blue Sky, of course, until the velvet fades. The moon is not a reflection of the sun, it is bright because the sun behind the curtain is bright.
Lightning freezes time. I don’t know why I think this, but I am fairly certain of it.
Since I’ve been a kid I’ve been certain I can move things with my mind like Luke Skywalker or Matilda. My latest reasoning for not being able to display this power is because I only want to do it when I don’t want to move. If The Force enables people to move things without their standing up, I am certain it would take more effort than actually standing up would do. If I am too lazy to even stand up, than I am genuinely too lazy to actualize my Jedi powers in that moment, and thus am unable to use The Force. It may be as easy as standing up, getting the plate, putting it on the table, and then convincing everyone else around, (and then myself) that all I did was think the plate towards the table and it did it — or even better that the plate was already there.
Rainbows, I’m pretty sure, are magical also. I don’t know what they do, but something good happens because of them. I have lately been trying to move myself just such that the rainbow lands on my house. My feet do this without me trying.
One time this past week, I noticed someone who hadn’t been there just a moment before. It also happened as I made a decision to continue my path instead of turning around, which I had been contemplating doing. I believe that my decision altered the course of the universe enough that this new person needed to be created to make everything turn out the way things were going. This person and their entire history was created in an instant because of my decision to continue walking. This is obvious to me. I have thought at some times that I could have been created 10 seconds ago and made to believe that “days ago” existed, when really it hadn’t. Either I was created by someone else continuing on instead of changing their mind, or the entire universe was created 10 seconds ago and we were all programmed to believe in a past. Those scenarios are exactly the same thing. In fact, we could be writing and reading this blog post together in a primordial time before we exist, and our rememberance of doing this is actually just calculation from before, being uploaded. But I don’t believe we are just calculations getting happened right now. My fingers don’t tell me so. It doesn’t matter because it’s all the same. It is the difference between 1+3 and 2+2.
Another thing. 2+2… in 1984 this very example came up. The protagonist, who I could argue for a while is the antagonist, doesn’t want to believe that 2+2 can be 5. One time I had a dream where a car rolled smoothly despite having square wheels, and I stopped believing in 2+2=4 and only 4. I don’t think this has ever come up as a problem where I’ve had to actually apply my belief that 1 doesn’t always equal 1, except during that frustrating period of my life where I believed that I the only reason I was created was because I had thought myself into existence. Descartes knew he existed because he could think and there needed to be a thinker, but I found this a brash jump in philosophical reasoning, since I’ve had dreams where 1=0, so in the Dreamer Scenario, it might be possible that our supposed math is off.
Why do I do these things? Why have I spent more than a couple minutes thinking about whether that woman was created because of a choice I made? How does that help me, how do I benefit from a ludacris belief? Because it doesn’t matter. Because I enjoy it. Because it’s the same to me one way or another. Because it makes me feel like I live in a magical place. A lot of my always-thinking friends think it’s a waste of time to believe in magic (or gods) or The Force, but I frankly think it’s a waste of time to fight any feelings you have of such beliefs. Are these beliefs socially constructed? Probably. Would I believe in The Force if I’d never seen Star Wars? Nope, probably not. Would you believe in 2+2=4 if you were raised by wolves? Nope, probably not.
You might want to tell me that The Force doesn’t exist whether you believe in it or not, but 2+2=4 whether you believe in it or not. I beg to differ. I think the only thing that exists is our thoughts, and since you can’t make me think otherwise, that will be the case (at least as far as I’m concerned). Reality exists whether I choose to believe in it or not? Well if I don’t choose to believe in it, I don’t much care if it cares or not.
Topics: Philosophy, This is my life | Comments Off on Doublethinking 1985
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