Just your genes and your environment

I certainly enjoy the argument that “some people are just born that way.”  True, anyone reading this was born a human being.  And being human is not the same as being an avocado.  And neither is it like being a zebra – something that can’t change its stripes.  Being human means, more than any other trait, using the stuff between your ears.  Otherwise, you might as well be dinner.

One popular speaker/author has said:

    “You will be just your genes and your environment, UNLESS you make conscious positive changes to your mindset and habits.”

 He was speaking about being happy, but I believe the basic premise, that we can be – we have the ability to be more than our genes and environment – applies to all of our lives.  That would be all of us, and the entirety of our own world, our own reality, our own rice bowl.  There are limits, of course; I’m talking about staying within the window of your limits – but pushing those limits, finding the edge of those limits.  Not hiding behind what is easy, or popular, or convenient.

When I was younger, say teen-age and twenties, everyone I knew was competitive.  Like cats, we all had our “thing,” but we would stop at nothing to achieve it.  Tell us it couldn’t be done, or it wasn’t for us, and that was tantamount to pouring gasoline on a fire.  Now, looking at my sixtieth birthday, most people I know are complacent and petty.  It seems as tho the divergent world we saw forty years ago has been replaced with a convergent world; yet most of us can expect to live another thirty years, at least.  A long time to be on cruise, or worse, idle.

We bitch and moan about how “they” are doing this or that; but not how we are doing nothing.  We are resting on our laurels; which means of course that we are wearing them in the wrong place.  As kids, we didn’t care about material things and we were out to change the world; now, all we care about is material things and we hope the world leaves us alone.

If life is a race, being first out of the starting blocks is only a good start: no race was ever won by being first off the gun.  Races are won by crossing the finish line first.  So, why do we rest?  Why have we stopped running as if our lives no longer depended on our effort?  At one time, all we believed in was our effort.  Hopefully, with some maturity, we might consider that, as Gayle Sayers put it, “I am third.”  Physically, some of us are paying for our youth indiscretions; but that does not mean we have mentally turned into avocados, or like some aged zebra we are last in the pack and easily picked off by the predators.

Life is like your muscles and your brain: use it, or lose it.

 

Thanks to Shawn Achor, his book “Before Happiness,” and his website “goodthinkinc.com”

2014
01/17
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Pashtunwali

I will admit that I hadn’t heard of the “Taliban” when the US used them against the USSR.  In the twelve years since the US invaded Afghanistan, I have gotten smarter.  And this familiarity has bred contempt.

The recently released “Lone Survivor” has reinforced the view that I simply cannot think of anything at all positive about the “Taliban.”  Zip, zero, ziltch.  But what struck me was the concept put into a new word at the end of the movie: “pashtunwali”.  The value of protecting those in need.  Such stark contrast to everything the “Taliban” stands for.  In honoring a practice far older than the “Taliban,” a village rose up to protect a foreigner from their own countrymen.  Make no mistake: the village suffered.  But they paid with their lives the old adage that the right time to do the right thing is right now.

Apparently, there has been an outcry from the ego-centric left about the “pro-war propaganda” of the movie.  I can’t imagine a more anti-war movie.  But, not surprisingly – in fact, quite to be expected – the left has entirely missed the point.

First and foremost, any military is simply a tool used by the government.  If you don’t like our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan, look to the White House, not to the Pentagon.

Second, the percentage of those in this country with any military experience is ludicrously low.  Twelve years and the invasion and occupation of two countries, to say nothing of all the “skirmishes” that may, or may not make the front page, and less than one percent of our citizens have participated – in any way?  Never has so large a burden been borne by so few and ignored by so many.

I am immensely gratified and validated that such a movie could be made, and be so well received.  A story – one of thousands – of those who believe strongly enough in anything at all to pay for it with their lives.  You never see anyone from the left who is that committed to anything, not even their lattes.

The “Taliban” belongs in the same camp as Hitler, Stalin and Mao.  And the United States, simply because no one else has the moral courage, has become the world’s policeman.  If  you doubt that, look again into those big, beautiful brown eyes of that little boy at the end of “Lone Survivor.”

2014
01/15
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Why the caged bird sings

If I had no choice, I mean, really had no viable, reasonable, plausible choice, would I still hate my job so much? Does it make a difference whether I have a choice, or not? I suppose, if I did have options, I would take them, and would stop talking about this, um, current unpleasantness.

Easy options I have none. There’s always the drop-out option: just not go to the office anymore (probably be more elegant if I contacted HR first; there might be some financially rewarding aspects after all this time, like a retirement package). But, going from a steady paycheck to holding a cardboard sign on a street corner is not an option that is being forced on me. And, frankly, I’ve grown accustomed to going to sleep in my own bed every night with a full belly. In other words, it would most definitely not be easy to give up my middle-income lifestyle.

Find another job. Well, I just read that the United States has more people out of work, who want to work (91 million), than there are people in the country of Germany (82 million). The number of people in Germany is irrelevant to my situation, but the numbers are daunting for some reason. I have a job now, and “another job” might be possible, but there is no way I could begin again at the salary I have managed to acquire (notice I did not say “earn”) after all these years. Again, a severe change in life-style. Even if I could find one without having to relocate.

Find something else in the same company? Not when this company is laying off. Not when the only option that exists for someone with my background is to go back out into field service. I spent over 17 years as a field representative, and just can’t do that anymore (my very long list of reasons start with an aging mother – I was overseas when my father died, I won’t do that to her, again). So, yeah, I could take a cut in pay, go through the unbelievable hassles of living and working in other countries (I stopped counting at 24), and not see people I care about except for maybe one week out of the year. I could do that, but I have chosen not to. Which is precisely why I am in this “call center”: this position is the only alternative I could find, and stay in the same company (it isn’t a matter of seniority, it is a matter of the accumulation of benefits).

I would never equate myself with Paul Dunbar or Maya Angelou, but I can understand what they are talking about when they wrote about the caged bird singing. The feeling, deep down inside; that knowledge that pounds against my skull, that there is something better, something worthwhile, something of value.

Maya Angelou (http://allpoetry.com/poem/8511445-I-Know-Why-The-Caged-Bird-Sings-by-Maya-Angelou)
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The title and inspiration for this poem came from a line in Paul Dunbar’s poem “Sympathy” http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/11717-Paul-Laurence-Dunbar-Sympathy .
It was also the title of the first volume of Dr. Angelou’s autobiography published in 1969.
+++

Paul Laurence Dunbar (http://allpoetry.com/poem/8463189-Sympathy-by-Paul-Laurence-Dunbar)
Sympathy
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Author Notes
The above poem was published in Lyrics of the Hearthside by Dodd, Mead and Company in 1899.

2014
01/06
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Happy New Year

I’ve just completed something of a ‘marathon’ Star Trek session. Only the latest two films, but I paid money for them (unusual for me); and that makes this significant.

First, I’d like to say that, somehow, the ability to gather together incredibly incompetent acting has not left the Star Trek Franchise. Nothing at all against the persons who act the characters – I’ve never met an actor/actress – but it is really remarkable and astounding that ineptitude has been part and parcel of Star Trek since William Shatner. Either that or, I just do not appreciate the actors that are selected. Or, more likely, I don’t appreciate the direction they receive. At least the Star Trek Franchise is consistent, and that is apparently what the chattering classes desire. More power to them. And the James Bond Franchise. And, I guess (never having seen any) the “Fast and Furious Franchise.”

But, what I found the most fascinating – truly the ‘what did I take away from watching’ – about current Hollywood is the absolute necessity of living, apparently, forever. I just don’t see the question asked of ‘how do you live.’ But, over and over and over again, it is the basic, fundamental desire to live just one more day; or in the case of one of the incarnations of Captain Kirk, just 12 minutes.

Yet, the final credits roll and we walk. We walk out of the theater, or our living room, back to the same old lives we escaped from when the curtain was raised. Nothing changed in us. It was, after all, just entertainment. Mere entertainment. No wonder that actors were once looked down upon as the most despicable occupation there was, below even prostitution (which, I imagine can have not only entertainment, but also satisfaction involved). I have yet to see a movie that was ‘satisfying.’

This was a weekend of American Football Playoffs. Four games. I watched one entire game at the home of a friend, noticing most of all, the behavior of the dozen or so other watchers. While I did grow up with football, both as spectator and participant, I have since lost the connection. Yes, I wish Greenbay had won, and San Francisco had lost; but I still think the Colts belong in Baltimore. That was enough for me. I understand that the so-called ‘Superbowl’ is yet to come; I will probably watch it at the home of my friend, but only for the sake of our friendship – I certainly have no interest in mere entertainment.

What I do find of interest is the desire of human beings. Persons, if you will. I have a brother who is training for the ‘Wasatch Steeplechase,’ I applaud his efforts to be more than he is. Altho purely physical endeavors are of more worth than watching hours of tv; there is a long way to go to:

Why are we here?

I have struggled for years, as my closest friend(s) know for the path to why. I guess, after years of struggling with this blog, I will have to explore this path here. It will henceforth not be about football or food or petty politics. It will focus on what is important – truly important – and nothing else. Sound boring? What else matters?

In my view, nothing at all.

2014
01/05
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Pride

There isn’t much I am absolutely convinced about. Not because I am a skeptic or cynic, but because I am humble enough to know there’s a lot I don’t know. However, I am pretty sure I have pride pegged.

Pride is just another word for stupid. No, not “ignorant.” Ignorant implies that you just haven’t been exposed to knowledge. Stupid offers no such wriggle room: you’ve been told (and probably more than once), and yet you still stick your tongue to the flag pole on a sub-zero day.

Pride is all about, well, me. It’s as if I go thru this thing called life with a mirror in front of my face. Me, me, me. Yeah very simple (therefore very appealing), but, um, not particularly farsighted (especially if you have short arms). Mirrors make bad windows: you don’t see much besides your nose (maybe that’s just me).

But, why is that “stupid”? No doubt you’ve heard of “pride goeth before the fall”? I don’t think that refers to a football team that spends the pre-season “rebuilding.” Rather, I think it refers to not seeing something that might change your life, like a crevasse or Mac truck.

You might remember the origin of the word “narcissus”? Falling in love with yourself just doesn’t enhance your life, personal relationships or your career. Though you might get a timeless story told about you, or even a very pretty flower named after you.

And, while you are admiring your striking profile, you just might not appreciate other people that can make your life so much more. Or so much less.

Pride also takes away your ability to review what you’ve done. The ability to say “I’m sorry” (whether you were at fault, or not – but just because a relationship is so much more important than your own opinion of your own grandeur). The ability to adjust the path you’re on, and maybe not actually get to wherever it was you were heading to (which is probably a very good thing). The ability to learn something that, shock of shocks, you might not have already known. The difference between a rock and a guided missile. If you’re stuck on yourself, mid-course corrections are impossible.

Unlike the lesser animals, or avocados, we were not born with all of the knowledge that we would need to successfully navigate through life (although there are some who act as though this were an infallible truth). And while self-confidence is very necessary, self-confidence on steroids is counterproductive; you know, two heads are better than one (even if that one head is huge). But, getting along, let alone working together is a team effort, and the pride that a team needs is different than the sum of its individual members. Michael Jordan may have been great (“may have”?), but I don’t think he played all by himself very often (Bill Russell and Walt Chamberlain are my personal faves).

2013
12/31
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Do you even eat breakfast?

The chicken lays an egg, makes a lot of noise, and walks away; oblivious to breakfast. The pig, in order to contribute to breakfast has to die: the bacon or sausage on your plate is a rather significant investment in breakfast for the piggy. But, more and more, I see a great ranting and raving, tearing of garments and gnashing of teeth about the teaching of the Roman Catholic Church on current popular, fashionable issues; ranting and raving by people who usually couldn’t care less about the Church. Great cries about how medieval and antiquated and out of touch the Church is.

If it suits their purposes – the agenda of the secular press – the Catholic Church is the Great Champion of Our Times. If the Church doesn’t jibe perfectly with their idea of a perfect world (“I am the center of your universe”), then any stick will do.

Frankly, find this obsession with “sexual orientation” increasingly tedious. But, almost to prevent me from rejoining the ranks of the Silent Majority, my ire rises. I am not so much bored with the narcissism of this age as I am angry at the overwhelmingness of it (yes, I could have said “pervasive”; but that is so pedestrian). And then, befitting the season, I had an epiphany:

I was listening to “seasonal music” from South America on the local FM “classical music” radio station. South America is the only continent I have neither visited nor lived on, so I can only imagine (I had a good friend once who grew up in Rio, but that’s not the same, is it?). Fortunately, the “music from colonial Latin America” was accompanied by informed, educated commentary. Of course the music is not familiar; but it is certainly beautiful. The commentary was as uncomfortable to hear as I believe is was accurate. Yes, the Catholic Church has something far less than a stellar history. But, it will be the first to say that it is an imperfect church made up of imperfect members. And that’s probably why I feel welcome in it. And probably why so many in the chattering classes don’t – I’m not perfect, like they are.

However, there is another reason I am so very proud to call myself a devout, practicing Catholic: the Roman Catholic Church is not like any other church/religion. Sure, the Protestant Churches have better music; but give me the 2000 year old Tradition of the Roman Catholic Church every time. Simply put, I don’t want to be like everybody else; there are many teams in baseball, but only one Yankees.

Most of the people that I know personally that advocate “disregarding the Church” on issues of so-called “gay rights” (whatever the hell those are – homosexuality is a behavior, not a people – get a clue already) haven’t graced any church of any kind in recent years (ever?), and are damned proud of it. Go ahead: define yourself by what you’re not. They couldn’t begin to count on their fingers any of the teachings of the Church; it’s as if the entirety of the 2000 year history, the literally countless pages of writings (quite a few in languages none of these “enlightened” could ever read) could be summed up in their own interpretation of one taken-out-of-context statement. Yet, they would go to more than one doctor to get a “second opinion” on a hangnail.

They are the epitome of seagull social action: fly in, make a lot of noise, shit on everybody who disagrees with you and fly out (hopefully before anybody gets out a shotgun).

In the past few days, a local “Catholic” high school had a situation with its vice principal over apparently a “gay rights” issue. OMG (I say that as a code instead of taking the Lord’s Name in vain – as if that has any meaning to homosexuals). A Facebook Friend sent me a petition to sign protesting the high school principal’s action. So, I went to the school’s webpage and found the open letter that the principal sent to the school’s community (and, obviously, anyone who cared to click to it and read it). This FBF, is so very proud that she has no affiliation with my Church. This FBF, will stand up for everyone’s rights, as long as they agree with her. But, if they hold a different view, it’s open season.

I not only did not sign and submit the petition; instead, I sent an email to the principal supporting her action. I then went to the Wyoming Catholic College website and doubled my 2013 contribution (they aren’t afraid to support the Catholic Church – and I am not afraid to support them). In other words, as a direct result of having “gay rights” thrown in my face AGAIN, I redoubled my efforts to support – not tear down, or disregard, or compromise – my values.

And, I can’t wait for the after-Christmas sales so I can buy another firearm and more ammo. 😉

2013
12/28
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Fence posts

Imagine a semi-tractor truck, the 53 foot long variety, filled with fence posts. These fence posts would be, say, four inches in diameter and, I don’t know, six feet long. So, a flat bed trailer, of the kind you might see tooling down the interstate could easily carry in excess of 4,000 posts. A whole bunch, I’m sure you’ll agree? We might call that “significant”?

Now, let’s take that load and plant the posts in the ground, say with six feet between posts. Ok, eight feet between posts. Yes, vertical: they are fence posts.

At this point, a cow in a field wouldn’t even notice, let alone stop chewing. You, on the other, are probably ready for a break. To the cow: still insignificant; to you: where’s the beer?

Tomorrow you come by with some wire and you connect the dots, oops, I mean posts. Whether he knows it or not, the cow’s world has changed. Yours too, since you don’t have to chase the cow very far. By the third day, the grass on the other side of the fence is looking pretty good to the cow, and you can’t remember what it was like to have to look for the cow.

The point of this is that I have several friends who are very, very good at remembering facts as tho they are fence posts. I mean, astoundingly good. I have one friend who could probably do the equation for hexagonal packing of circles in a rectangle in his head (it involves the cosine of 30 degrees; take my word for it: a task not for the mathematically challenged, like me). Several others could derive the equation. I went to the internet.

But, could any of them derive any meaning from the possible fence before the cow does? Nope. You see, merely being able to regurgitate facts, while useful for winning the car and the dream vacation on a game show, does not naturally bestow wisdom or understanding. Yep, total recall is fascinating; and for people like me that are lucky if the Random Access Memory between our ears works even on rare occasion, all I can do is shake my head (no, vigorous shaking does not spill out smarts). Besides, now we have computers to do our memory storage work, and retrieval, as well (and you thought I recalled the equation for hexagonal packing from high school algebra? No, my teacher would never think so.).

If you’re going to take the time to remember something, make it relevant. Find out how it connects to other things, like your values, your morals, your ethics. Your future. A four foot barbed wire fence is significant to a cow. An eagle couldn’t care less.

2013
12/25
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Irony

Don’t suppose the term “ultimate irony” has any meaning, let alone significant meaning; kinda like the word “news”. What is today’s “must know” is relegated to the Trash Bin (either the old metal kind, or the modern computer kind) tomorrow. So, it’s entirely possible that today’s “ultimate irony” won’t stay on the top of heap, or on the front page very long.

But, I am having a hard time replacing what has been termed “natural law” with anything more significant.

A friend recently wrote:

“It simply indicates that every material creature has a specific purpose and that this purpose is assigned to it by its nature. So a mud hen is different than a cow or a human being. The eye has a different function than the ear. These all involve nature. Science is constantly indicating the nature, that is the purpose, of a particular organ in an animal or human being. However we live in a culture of extreme individualism where the individual, especially a human, is seen as being able to determine one’s own nature and purpose. This is how our culture, philosophies, government, education system, media and most churches today accept and even advocate abortion, euthanasia, divorce, in vitro fertilization, same gender marriages, etc.”

I can’t improve on that, but I’ll try to add something: like how ironic this all is.

Not being a rocket scientist, I always thought the purpose/aim/goal/reason of science was to explain things (or, try to) (Brother Guy Consolmagno says it better: “Science describes, it doesn’t prove.”; see http://fora.tv/2008/03/02/Brother_Guy_Consolmagno_God_s_Mechanics, slightly after the 12 minute mark – but don’t skip the entire interview). So, science exists to describe? And if it doesn’t, then what am I to do with all that genus, species, family stuff I still remember from 9th grade biology? (I told you I wasn’t a rocket scientist.) If science does its job, then engineers can do theirs (now I can relate), and the rest of the world can enjoy the fruits of the ubiquitous computer (et al.).

So, we have all these scientists, and all the money that is thrown at science (that would be OUR taxpayer money; Cray computers, and the Tevatron come with a
hefty price tag), on the one hand; and then we have what, Congress, redefining the purpose of things? (Let’s ignore the cost of Congress for a moment, shall we? No point in throwing good money after bad.) What did the Race to the Moon, and the shuttle program cost? Somehow, we thought that was worth our resources. We are pumping millions of dollars into finding a cure for HIV/AIDS; millions of dollars into the hands of scientists, not politicians. Why doesn’t the president just call a special session of Congress and demand that it redefine, say, a virus? Something along the lines of: “The Ebolla Virus is now benign.” Politicians all over the country have, with no more than a stroke of a pen (quite literally with no more than) redefined scores of things that, frankly, fly in the face of science (ignorance can be such bliss, can’t it? especially when you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about).

I know what you’re thinking: You’re thinking that, on the one hand we provide mega millions of dollars in subsidies to the tobacco industry, and on the other
hand, meager millions to finding a cure for cancer. So, why should politicians be any more consistent when it comes to science? Like I said, “ultimate irony.”

But to take it a step further (and there are many special interest groups that have hijacked Capitol Hill), those that so virulently espouse individualism are
demanding that the law of the land be changed just for them. A few (percentage-wise, very, very few) are ensuring that to get the law on their side, my legal rights are usurped or morphed into something I cannot countenance. They want rights, and they are willing to take mine away from me. Thank you very much. As we used to say in boot camp: BOHICA (no, don’t ask). “Protect the individual” applies only to those who choose to belong to their own little club. And, if you don’t belong; well, Hitler, Stalin and Mao had the answer to that one.

These here United States of America was founded – even from the very beginning, when the Pilgrims started grabbing land from the natives – on the basic,
fundamental premise that we didn’t want to be just like the people in the Old World (the invasion of this continent by Europeans proved – ironically enough – that the trip across the Atlantic didn’t actually change the pioneers very much at all). Fast forward 200 years (yeah, I know: more like 400) and there are groups that are trying to make us a colony of Europe again (I bet King George III is loving this). If I wanted to be European, I’d move there. (Yes, I have lived in Europe.)

We here are supposed to be all about protecting the individual – EVERY individual. That means life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness – for everyone. That does not mean conformity at all costs. It means I can swing my fist; just so long as I make sure your nose is not in the trajectory. It does not mean I can’t be me.

But, that is what is happening here.

One of the most popular movies of late, “Jurassic Park,” answered a question about Natural Law, tho it was well hidden. The scientists (what, no politicians?) who cloned the dinosaurs in the “amusement park” made a point to ensure they couldn’t reproduce (that would be the dinosaurs, not the scientists). A built in safeguard against the experiment getting out of control. There was a scene where the head game-keeper discovers eggs that have obviously hatched – clear proof that the safeguard had, um, excuse me, failed. I think his line was something like “Nature will find a way.” That line could have come out of an ad for a butter substitute commercial that was popular back in the days when I watched tv (“It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature”; don’t remember the product, tho. Sorry.)

The pen might be mightier than the sword. Maybe. But, ignore Mother Nature at your peril.

2013
12/09
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Busy

I think I still have the top I had in Fourth Grade. As I recall, it I could get it going fast enough, it would spin a “long” time. Occasionally, it did spin a long time; but the instant it left my hand, I lost all control. In a manner of speaking, so did it. As long as it stayed upright, it would dance around, bouncing off of obstacles, until it finally ground to a halt (maybe even “halted to ground” – as only tops can do). Other than spinning around its own center, it was entirely without direction.

I know people like that: they are full of action and devoid of direction. In some cases, they quite literally don’t know why they do what they do; they just react to the moment. We have all heard that we should live in the moment; the past and the future exist only in our imaginations. Well, there are quite a few people behind bars that might beg to differ (on both ends of the spectrum). Perhaps some of those incarcerated lived too much in the moment? There are others who are as shortsighted but have stayed within the law (or, haven’t gotten caught). They are incarcerated in their own lack of direction, purpose. And so, their tomorrows won’t look much different from their todays. They might say that if they had it all do to over again, they’d do it all the same. In other words, life was as good at it gets when they were infants?

These are busy people. Busy, busy, busy. All year long, they are busy. Busy doing what? Hell if they know; I know I don’t. None of these whirling dervish look alikes ever ask themselves if they are busy about the right things – the things that matter, important things, dare I say First Things. And now we enter the “silly season” when these people who are ‘busy’ all year suddenly shift into high gear and become frantic, frenetic, hyperkinetic (Roget’s Thesaurus, 707.24). While still juggling all those balls they have been keeping in the air, or keeping their plates heaped to overflowing, they add more…stuff (thank you, George Carlin). And there will be stories again this year about holiday stress and excess and the always regrettable suicide.

I don’t believe it is a matter of getting out a chain saw and clear-cutting; I think a more surgical approach is in order. More pick-and-choose, and less throw out the baby with the bathwater. Make the conscious, deliberate decision to do what is truly important; and the other stuff can go begging. After all, if it is just “stuff,” then you really shouldn’t be wasting your resources (time and energy) on it anyway. Don’t try to do it all; try to do less, but better. Yeah, less is more.

Maybe it is my own age that is causing me to more critically allocate my own resources? Maybe the youthful indiscretions that have come back to haunt my corpus? Maybe a lack of desire to have the next 30 years look like the last? Maybe I’m finally implementing the wake-up call I got back in 2005 April? I do know I have all my Christmas shopping done; and it isn’t because I am not doing any (like some years). I have all my Christmas cards addressed and stamped; and they all have a “keep Christ in Christmas” theme (The Adoration of the Magi tryptich by da Fabriano), no Santas or Rudolfs (and I waited until the Post Office released their religious seasonal stamps: Madonna Candelabra (Raphael), Virgin and Child (Gossaert), Holy Family). Sad to say, I have to work Christmas (yes, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day..and, ho hum – or should I say humbug? – Christmas Day night); so, like Thanksgiving, it won’t seem like a holiday (but that’s a different story).

I will know why I am doing what I am doing; and I will be doing those things on Page One as well as I can. The stuff on Page Two belong in the shredder anyway.

It is easy to laugh at “New Year’s Resolutions.” Like fruitcake, NYR are part of the season; and just as easily thrown away. But, taking stock of the past year is better than ignoring it (it is a record of choices you’ve made). And trying to do better next year is better than, well, just waiting and letting it happen (which it will do without you). Start with those things that really are important. Breathing is pretty much a given. Eating is definitely on the list, tho maybe not so much (not as important as breathing, and not indulged as much as in the past). Isn’t this easy? You already have two things on your list of What’s Really Important. Ok, they were gimmies. What’s next? You’re on your own: it’s your life. You might try exercise; I actually know a few people who might exercise too much (no, I am not among them – tho, I’d rather do too much than too little). Now that you are working on staying as healthy as possible as long as possible (so you don’t make yourself a burden to others), you could consider your personal life, your personal relationships, the other people in your personal life.

Don’t stop there. Busy is good; busy doing crap is not.

2013
12/08
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2 comments

Your inner Mitch

Egos are interesting things.  At one time, I thot they were very necessary: we need to think of ourselves in order to survive.  Simply to survive.  There will come a point where giving everything away will include giving your life away.  In order to live, we have to put ourselves into the equation somewhere, even if it’s last.

 

While rather late in the game, I am learning that an ego just might be an impediment, not an asset.

 

First, of course, none of us gets out of this thing called Life alive anyway.  Having an ego is no guarantee of immortality.  Put another way, thinking of yourself is really rather superfluous.  It is simply not a matter of “if.”  It is only a matter of “when.”

 

But the question of “how” is seldom asked (“if” and “when” do not beg the question of “how”).  It seems most people muddle thru life w/o ever getting to how; for me, it is only recently that I have started asking “how.”  “If” was never in doubt, you understand.  When “when” became the topic de jour, the response was first of all to not ask, and then to answer “someday” (and not soon).  Frankly, now: the sooner the better.  I think.

 

About a month ago I transferred to a work group that I had known about peripherally.  Now that I am one of “them,” I understand why they are so poorly understood.  A pressure-cooker environment with poor tools to accomplish difficult tasks for ungrateful customers (both internal management as well as those external customers who buy the products).  Could a dysfunctional workplace have anything other than dysfunctional workers in it?  Maybe.

 

And so it is that someone who obviously slept thru the lecture on people skills finds himself working “with” others in pursuit of “delighting” the customer.  Dunno why he’s in a customer service organization, when his personality is more conducive to being a lighthouse keeper (think Alpha Centauri, not Neah Bay).  To say he’s “rude” is the result of working hard to sugar coat the obvious truth.

 

And, he’s not alone.

 

That sort of behavior is sad; but it is also ludicrous.  As a college prof once said, “I never lie about anything that is easily checked,” this work environment is one of limited verbal exchange and nearly total written communication.  In other words, anyone can check the written record to find out what was actually done – in fact a written record is absolutely essential because, in a 24/7/365 organization, a lot of people need to be included on issues that take 24-48 hours of continuous, round-the-clock involvement.  “No man is an island” was never so true as in this place.

 

Certainly possible that it is just me (what was that about ego, again?).  I am the newest kid on the block; the “newbie,” the “FNG.”  Fine, the t-shirts I have had in my closet for years still fit.  I did expect civility, however.  Learning how to use a cantankerous computer system that is poorly documented only adds to the frustration of trying to do a good job, of trying to be productive, of trying to add, rather than inhibit.  But, I just gotta think that anyone would have to take time to learn this system; I’m slow, but I do believe I’m in the ballpark.

 

Funny that members of a group that exists to help the customer are so rude to each other.

 

The Number One Worst Job I’ve ever had was an assembly line job in which I lasted three days while working my way thru school.  This one is Number Two (tho I’ve managed to last a month+).  It isn’t so much the work, tho the work is inherently unsatisfying, and working for a huge company is unrewarding anyway.  It is the people, pure and simple.  In any event, why don’t I leave?  At my age, and in this economy, that would be financial suicide (yes Virginia, even this job is better than standing with a cardboard sign on a street corner).

 

What prompted this post?  Frankly, I can’t remember the last time someone walked away from me while I was talking to him.  Just turned his back and walked away.  If he had added a gesture, I would have thought him supercilious, instead of crass.

2013
11/16
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