Money as Debt

İt has been a while since my last blog. Part of this hiatus has been due to questioning the relevancy of the original intention of this blog to what seems most important to me these days. İ had started this blog as vehicle to share various musings that occurred to me as a way to provide inspiration to myself and others in the context of building on the creative endeavors in my live. İ wanted to make art and share with others what İ came across along the way, thinking that it would be useful and interesting. İ am still drawing everyday and find lots of uses for my art in my classroom at school. But talking just about art has never been a subject İ had much time for. As the worldwide global depression continues to unfold, İ find myself more and more interested in understanding this catastrophe which history tells me will change everything İ have known. These times are certainly interesting in a nod to the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." İn educating myself about our current situation, İ discovered that my knowledge of money, that thing that drives so much of our lives,lacked much sophistication.İ discovered that most of my ideas about what money is and where it comes from have been based on disinformation. İ am certain that İ am not alone in this as were more truths about money and economics more widely known, İ believe we would not be facing what may be the worst economic crisis in history. Toward this end, İ want to recommend Damon Vrabel to you. İ think listening to what this man has to say and what he has to teach is time well spent.

Have you been standarized?

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. Ralph Waldo Emerson.

İ am of the mind that much of the conformity we walk around with belongs in the category of foolish consistency to which Emerson was referring. Toward this end, İ want to thank Alan Watt for bringing to my attention a little book called " An Anatomy for Conformity". I want to share the closing passage of this illuminating text:

How to Do İt

İf one wishes to produce conformity for good or evil, the formula is clear. Manage to arouse a need or needs that are important to the individual or to the group. Offer a goal which is appropriate to the need or needs. Make sure that conformity is instrumental to the achievement of the goal and that the goal is as large and as certain as possible. Apply the goal or reward at every opportunity. Try to prevent the object of your efforts from obtaining an uncontrolled education. Choose a setting that is ambiguous. Do everything possible to see that the individual has little or no confidence in his own position. Do everything possible to make the norm which you set appear highly valued and attractive. Set it at a level not too far initially from the starting position of the individual or the group and move it gradually toward the behavior you wish to produce. Be absolutely certain you know what you want and that you are willing to pay an enormous price in human quality, for whether the individual or the group is aware of it or not, the result will be CONFORMİTY

I recently received a message from a long time friend who just left the teaching profession after over 15 years of service because of her frustrations with the public schooling system, in large part to its overweening fixation on testing which she characterized as an interference upon the actual teaching of the schools. It is often assumed that a high quality standardized test is a reliable measure of learning which provides meaningful feedback to students, teachers, parents and administrators about student achievement and thereby providing a measure for accountability for all involved. Part of the logic underlying such testing is that the learning being measured must conform to the parameters of the test in order to be valued. Implicit in this logic,learning that falls outside these parameters is not measured and therefore not valued. To be sure, some learning may be measured in this fashion, but if we allow for individual learners and their unique needs, it is easy to see that the cost/benefit analysis of such testing endeavors favors the test makers over the test takers.İf you think of such tests in light of what İ shared earlier about how to create conformity, İ think its quite clear that tests are part of the armaments used to induce conformity and ease the prospects for control within the populace. Having been a teacher for ten years now and a student for too many years beyond that, İ am sad to admit how much İ have been involved in the machinery of conformity.
Over time, İ have become more and more convinced that such things as tests and other standardized forms within modern schooling reflect not flaws of the system merely requiring enlightened revisioning and reform but rather key features of a dehumanizing process. The negative outcomes of this process should be understood as evidence of the malevolent success of this system. İt has not been poorly designed to create an enlightened populace, but rather brilliantly engineered to pump out broken humans ready to take their appointed place. Outside of my experience in support of this view and İ would argue, in line with much of the school experience of anybody reading this, İ would like to share some relevant points raised by John Taylor Gatto in his essay, The Six Lesson School Teacher:

Lesson One: Stay in the Class Where You Belong.

Lesson Two: Turn On and Off Like a Light Switch.

Lesson Three: Surrender Your Will to a Predetermined Chain of Command.

Lesson Four: Only Authorities Will Determine What Curriculum You Will Study.

Lesson Five: Your Self-Respect Should Depend on an Observer's Measure of Your Worth.

Lesson Six: You Are Being Watched.

Gatto has lots more to say about our educational system and I highly recommend reading what he has to say. İ'll be looking for ways to get out of the foolish consistency İ've found myself in.

The Invitation

I have been meaning to post this poem for a while. It is one of my favorites, one that has inspired me ever since I first read it. Every once in a while, I come across something that makes me think about my life, who I am and how that is all sitting with me. This poem is one of those somethings.

#

The Invitation by Oriah
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved

Back Home

I am back from vacation and ensconced in my new domicile. The two weeks I spent with my Dad and Aunt Connie were great. My folks had expressed the desire to see Turkey off the beaten track so back roads it was. My father-in-law was a splendid tour guide, sharing so many of the little gems that only the locals know. Outside all the great sights we saw, it was also momentous for the fact that it was the first time Sinan had spent with his Grandpa Gary and Great Aunt Connie. Sinan and I are at home for a couple of weeks exploring the parks in our environs until I start back to work at the end of August. I hope this missive finds you all well.

Viva Vacation!

I will be on vacation soon so my posts will be sporadic for a while. This summer will be a momentous one as I have family arriving from the States soon for visit. I am looking forward to showing my family around some of my favorite places in Turkey and to seeing some new to me as well. Before they arrive,I am moving to a new home where I will have more room for my art. After all tha fun ends, I will begin preparing for a new teaching position this fall starting at a new school where I will have my own classroom for the first time ever! Have a grand summer!

Art Wars

Creation goes through its ebbs and flows. I like to think of the time when creation slows as a time of filling the well so that future work may be replenished. I believe that being creative means keeping a commitment to create, a disciplined approach that maintains a regular contact with the work you are creating. I don't subscribed to the notion that an artist is someone who waits for inspiration to strike and then fills the canvas with that inspiration. Rather, I find that inspiration comes out of working every day, in my case, drawing, especially when you don't feel particularly inspired at all. The common notion of inspiration is related to the mystification of artists, perhaps by themselves, where the artist is seen as some sort of magically endowed human who can do what no ordinary human can do. I think that any of the artistic avenues of creation are completely accessible to anyone who cares to spend the time needed to develop the skills related to the art form they are interested in. To be sure, there seems to be a range of aptitude whereby initially, one person may pick up the techniques of this or that art more quickly or with more ease than another, but experience shows me that the race goes not to the swiftest but to those committed to the long haul. The fact that genius exists does not mean that only genius should be considered worthwhile. While few of us will ever be like Mike, we can all learn to play the game and enjoy it for its own merits. Recently I have been in one of those chop wood, carry water times, not feeling particularly inspired in my drawing and I came across Art Wars, a website that offers periodically running contests for artists as a way to generate inspiration among other things. I entered the piece posted here as entry for the "Eyes" contest. Just like doing this blog every week has been a great boost for me artistically, I think entering in art contests such as Art Wars will be a boon to me as well.

Cherry Picking

İt's cherry season here in Turkey and one of the yearly traditions in our family here is to meet in one of my wife's family cherry orchards and spend the afternoon with family picking cherries, eating some of the pickings and other delicious foods. We just came back from an afternoon of that so if you are in the neighborhood, you are welcome to come a get some of the cherries that are overflowing from our fridge. Sinan had a great time playing with one of his cousins and hated having to leave. After being cooped up in the big city, getting out into the country is such a treat. The rain has been generous around here and the fields around my wife's village are golden with grain and green with knee-high sunflowers. And of, course the cherry trees are heavy with fruit. An interesting aside about the area where the village is, it became the homeland of a group of Celts who left Southern France to be auxiliaries for the Roman legions nearly 2000 years ago. There is one hill İ have visited overlooking her village topped with a field of rocks that looks like it could have been part of some ancient fort. İ hope you avail yourselves to the opportunity of seeing such things and more when you pay me a visit.

Dancing Days

When I was four or so, I visited my cousin Todd on a family night once when he was attending a Boy Scout summer camp. During that experience, I was dazzled by some dancers in Native American regalia performing in the fire-lit night. I made a promise that one day I would do likewise. Years later I joined a Boy Scout group for those interested in Native American dancing. We made costumes, learned dances, performed in shopping malls and went to powwows through my middle school and high school years. Years later, when I was living in Portland, OR I made another dance outfit, one that I had been planning and collecting supplies for since I started dancing. I spend 6 months or so putting it all together and danced in it at a local powwow. This process ultimately led me to getting into drawing. In addition, the whole process taught me a lot about following through on your dreams. The photo here was taken shortly after I had finished making the outfit.

Giving Up and Letting go...

Today İ found something that İ had long ago assumed İ had lost. İt amused me to find this thing as it was where it should have been and it must have been staring me in the face all this time. İ must admit that my belief that it was gone seems to have kept me from seeing it all along. İt was a reminder of how powerful belief is, how it can keep us from seeing what is right before our eyes and similarly, how it informs what we do see. This little experience made me wonder about how my beliefs affect my perceptions. İt seems that only when something unexpected comes along and rattles us a bit can we get a reminder that our beliefs are at best the map, not the territory. Plato's cave metaphor comes to mind. İ welcome learning of any similar experiences you have had along these lines. What was the last thing that made you question a belief?

While We Were Sleeping...

İ just finished watching a great BBC documentary called "Requiem for Detroit". You have got to see it, I have included a link so you can. I think that this film shows quite clearly what is in store for the US in the 21st century. İt is well known that US manufacturing corporations have largely shipped their factories out to find greener pastures among the desperate poor of developing countries, with the notable exception of our arms manufacturers. What do we actually make in the US these days? China even exports the American flag to our shores. The service economy that we are fast becoming can never maintain our Amerıcan Dream. We had better wake up. The revolution that Henry Ford started, paying workers a wage that enabled them to purchase what they produced, needs to be revisited and revised. A poignant moment from the documentary concerns Henry Ford's workshop where he initially built one of his first motor cars. This structure latter gave way to the Michigan Theater, a famous palatial landmark. As the automobile gave Ford the empire to build this theater, ironically, they ultimately killed the theater. Theater goers and their need for parking and the lack of same near the theater seem to have caused the theater's demise. Attempts made to save the landmark have culminated in gutting the theater,turning it into a parking lot. Though its walls still stand, it is a theater no more. Unless its for the Theater of the Absurd. The film is a sobering reminder of what becomes of the American Dream.

The Sanction of the Victim

Among my reading habits these days is Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. This seems like one of those books that people of my generation read in high school or at university. SO, though İ may be a bit late in getting to this part of the canon, İ think it is much more meaningful to me now that it would have been 20 years ago. İ have been struck by a number of passages in this text and would like to share one here:
The Sanction of the Victim
" That is the flaw in your theory, gentlemen," said Rearden gravely, " and İ will not help you out of it. İf you choose to deal with men by means of compulsion, do so. But you will discover that you need the voluntary co-operation of your victims, in many more ways than you can see at present. And your victims should discover that it is their own volition-which you cannot force- that makes you possible. İ choose to be consistent and İ will obey you in the manner you demand. Whatever you wish me to do, İ will do it at the point of a gun. İf you sentence me to jail, you will have to send armed men to carry me there- İ will not volunteer to move. İf you fine me, you will have to seize my property to collect the fine- İ will not volunteer to pay it. İf you believe that you have the right to force me- use your guns openly. İ will not help you to disguise the nature of your action."
This passage reminds me of how we acquiesce to our own oppression, how we are complicit in our own enslavement. Hearkening to the power of disobedience, the chorus of men and women down through the ages who shouted 'Basta!'should ring in our ears. O how I want to be in that number...

The Singularity

These days, I have been talking to many of my students about the Singularity. As I understand this event, it is considered to occur when virtual reality becomes indistinguishable from the actual reality. I have been using this article to discuss some of the ramifications of the Singularity with my students. This will ultimately lead to a machine nirvana, where our chance for individuality has been destroyed, turned off like a light switch, subsumed into a hive-minded collective will that can be completely controllable and perfectly docile. Then, we will finally have peace on Earth and sing in perfect harmony.
The Singularity has been a long time coming, already we can sense its existence. The unreality that TV and other mass media entertainments have been programming into us is frighteningly anti-human. Watch one of those so-called 'reality shows' to see what kind of vices are being encouraged. Consider blockbuster heroes like James Bond, a man who can kill dozens of bad guys (often brown-skinned these days) and bed the same number of babes, all in one day between martinis, shaken not stirred, and all without a quiver of emotion other than a catchy one liner. Such a person in real life would be undeniably psychopathic.
Like all good cons, we are made to believe that we are free and that we are freely choosing everything that comes into our life , as in the way we can choose which channel to watch. Ever noticed those words- program and channel-and what they connote? In the news media and tragedies of our own lives, from time to time, we get glimpses of the real world that we frantically work to keep at bay through all of our mindless conveniences and entertainments. We work hard to create our own virtual reality. The computer allows us to take this to the next level and beyond. Now that machine worlds are being created for us to play in, while we are fooled into thinking it is just some harmless fun or blessed conveniences that we can't imagine life without, we keep on paying for our chains, helping our masters to construct the perfect panopticon all around us. Like Huxley said, people can be made to love their own enslavement. As a fitting illustration of this point, as İ was discussing these issues with a class, a few students in the class could do not without using their cell phone/portable entertainment centers in class,escaping into their own little virtual reality. Let the dead bury their dead.

The Shortest Distance

Perhaps the only concept that most people still recall from their geometry lessons is that the shortest distance between any two points is a straight line. This truth can be seen throughout our lives in its various applications. One of these applications can be found in the works of those who give advice as to how to get what you want in your life. So, before this gets too solipsistic, let me cut to the chase, that is, cut out what you don't want or don't need from your life so that you can clear the way for what you do want or need. Cleaning out the clutter from my life has been one of the tasks İ have been working at for some time now. İ am here to give witness to the impact that a regular spring cleaning has on living the life you want. There is nothing astonishing about the discovery that wasting less time, energy and resources on those things that don't matter gives you more time for what does matter. İ have realized that most of the 'tricks' to getting what you want in your life are basically self-evident. Generally the problem lies not with the resources or skills we have, but rather with the clutter in our lives- physical and mental. İ think that honesty will reveal that we are usually our own worst enemy when it comes to living the fulfilling life we dream about having. To prove my point, take an inventory of your daily habits, your possessions and so forth. How much of what you do or have can be said to really matter? One thing that İ have mostly cut out of my life and have done so for quite a while is television. We are told that many people spend 3-5 hours a day glued to their television. When you consider what you can do with an extra 140 hours a months- which is just about like getting another full-time job- just by kicking the TV habit, you can see that you don't have to wait until you retire to live your dream.Over the last 6 months, İ have been cutting out lots of unnecessary things in my life. The rewards have been instantaneous. This leaves me with the time İ want for what really matters to me so that İ am enjoying more and more of what İ do and spending less and less on what does not matter, which are generally things that are usually just a drag anyway. The simple act of getting rid of the clutter from your life can be done at any time and only costs you what you don't want any way. İ would love to hear from you about something you have cut out of your life and the difference it has made.

Has the river run dry?

Like many of you, the current global economic crisis we are in is a situation that İ have been following and trying to understand,namely, how exactly we got into the mess we are in. İ have found a great video, THe Crisis of Credit,
which İ think does an elegant job of explaining the gist of the economic crisis. İt is quite short at under eleven minutes and its succinct delivery makes it well worth a look.
Another source for my economic news and analysis has been the iconoclastic Max Keiser. İf you haven't seen this guy in action, you simply must check him out. His irreverent style and cut to the bone analysis is quite refreshing when contrasted against other more obfuscating stylists. His site is full of interesting articles and you can find video feeds for his widely syndicated broadcasts on this site. İf you are someone who thinks that torches and pitchforks are long over due, you will love this guy. İf you are an economic terrorist bankster like the ones who are currently running our economic system, you will hate him. Either way, you owe it to yourself to hear what he has to say.
The colored pencil drawing İ included with this week's post was one of my first sales at one of my first gallery shows many years ago. As much as İ can, İ am trying to find work that relates to my blog without too much of a stretch. This one even has those apocryphal green shoots the economic news keeps trying to convince us of.

My First Cartoon

Part of my quest has been about integrating all of the things that İ am passionate about into my everyday existence. After graduating with my Bachelor's in art, İ began the art game, you know, making art and and putting it into places like galleries where it would be seen and hopefully purchased, allowing me to repeat the process over and over. As soon as İ had some initial success in that game, İ found that İ was quite dissattisfied with that game. Around the same time, a dear friend told me about an course in the Conflict Resolution program where she was studying for a Master's degree. The course was titled 'Art and Conflict Resolution'. İt was essentially an intro to the field of art therapy. This course, combined with my disenchantment with the art game İ was playing and my interest in social justice led me to enroll in this Master's degree program, where two years later İ graduated with a degree in conflict resolution, convinced, like many well-meaning fools, that İ could change things from within and chose to do so as teacher. İ got a berth on the SS New York City Board of Education and sailed away from Portland, Oregon for NYC's sunny shores. 8 years later, İ am still a teacher with a passion for social justice, but now living in Turkey. İn my life now, İ am circling back for another crack at the art game, retooled and refueled.
İ present here my first crack at a cartoon, which some will contend is political. İt is still a bit rough, but İ am pleased with it as a draft. Though dated now, it was prompted by the news that our Commander-in-Chief had brought home the gold and made us proud with the Nobel Peace Prize. My first reaction was, 'What for?'. All İ could think of were the announcements of more troops being sent overseas, more unmanned aerial attacks on villages in Pakistan and more money handed over to the military-industrial-media-congressional complex. As the nominations for such prizes come many months before the award is received, it seemed to me that the award was being given for the hope that well-paid speech writers were able to impart to the masses. Hope was just around the corner, where it seems she always hides, lying in wait for the next sucker to fall for her siren song. The fix is in. The deck is stacked. The House always wins. Now, to go on mixing my metaphors,you may ask, 'Would you like some more bitter with that coffee?'. To that İ answer, if it opens my eyes a bit wider, İ will take all you got.

Stop Playing Wargames

Recently I saw a video which featured the onboard filming of a massacre of Iraqi civilians thought to be dangerous by a US army helicopter crew. The commentary of the soldiers onboard struck me as remarkably similar to the commentary I hear coming from boys as they play their ubiquitous single shooter wargames. İn fact, the whole video struck me as frighteningly similar to many video games now popular in our society. A bit of research will reveal to you that such video games have the U.S. military to thank for their existence, as their use has been shown to be the answer to an old problem for the military: how do we get people to kill other people? As human beings, we have an innate revulsion to killing our fellow humans, which is obviously problematic for the military. Up until the present time, militaries all over the world have had serious problems with their soldiers purposely shooting over the heads of their enemies due to their instinctual desire to avoid killing other human beings. Single shooter games have been proven to be remarkable tools in getting those who play them to see humans as objects, as an other to be eliminated as thoughtlessly as an icon part of some imaginary world where points are earned for killing these imaginary enemies. The US Army uses such games as recruiting tools as well as training tools for impressionable young minds who are already accustomed to seeing people splattered across their media screens. The military knows that those who play such games are learning to get over their aversion to killing their enemies in real life. İ urge you to watch the clip İ have linked to this blog and start talking to the young people around you. Don't let your homes become training salons for massacre like what is glorified in those video games. Killing is not entertainment, it is dehumanization.

A Brief Respite

İ was gratified to receive queries when İ missed my normal blog schedule last week. For those of you who missed me, İ am back from vacation, unfortunately. İ live in one of the most interesting places on the planet history-wise and İ am even more fortunate to be married to an archaeologist well-versed in this history. Not to disparage Greece, but İ think a strong case can be made for Turkey's superior collection of Classical monuments. The one İ pictured here, a temple for Zeus at Euremos, is tucked off the beaten path, and is quite a delight to wander through. Countless villages and towns have sites like this, unassuming and humble, waiting for the intrepid traveller to stumble across. İ spent last week with my folks who were visiting from the States in the environs of Bodrum. We spent our time eating some of the best cuisine in the world and getting a glimpse of past glories. My wife treated us to daily tours of choice sites around this peninsula, culminating in Ephesus (EFES), one of the gems in Turkey's archaeological crown. At Efes, İ finally got to see the new villas excavations which are fabulous. My third visit to EFes has truly been the finest. My folks continue to talk to us about getting our own touring concern going, which after this vacation has got me thinking. So, any of you thinking of coming to Turkey should keep us in mind for planning your trip.

Pass İt On

Recently, İ came across a colleague at work who answered me quite frankly when I asked how she was doing. Normally, most of us say we are fine when we are really not. İt is understood that such questions are just social niceties and rituals rather than actual inquiries. After confiding in me with how she was hurting, she quickly apologized, perhaps remembering that the normal ritual is to suffer in silence rather than sharing her struggle. Her honesty impressed me and İ was moved to think of some way I could respond in kind. İ came across a book in my bookshelf that seemed like it might be hers now. As it turned out, after giving it to her and hearing that she had proceeded to read it three times, it seems my intuition was right. İ am continually reminded how the small gesture becomes a lever for larger goodness. Or İts opposite.
İ believe that taking to your own path affords you an inner strength that grows as you meet the various characters and situations that help you create the story of your life. İ can recall those that came to my aid and shared a bit of their strength with me when İ needed it.İn addition to being grateful to them, it seems to me that İ have an obligation to pass it on. Years ago, İ read an essay about a Japanese company who required its new hires to go into a village and go door to door asking to be of service. After being turned down over and over, these people discovered that they were grateful when someone actually took them up on their offer and let them rake their lawn or perform some other small task. This story struck me with the notion that if there is no receiver , there can be no giver and vice versa.İt is a symbiosis that İ see all around us. Along these lines, İ am rather fond of the notion that each of the drawings İ do has an owner out there and part of my work is getting that picture to them. İ have found quite a few of them and its a great feeling when İ find the person who a particular piece belongs to. One of my favorite memories of this is when one of my pieces,one of my absolute favorites, was stolen from the church office where it was hanging. İn closing, İ would love to hear from you about when somebody passed it on to you or when you passed it on to someone else.

The Journey

My thanks to Chris Guillebeau for sharing this poem in his blog. I am sharing it here, though it seems I am copying his blog entry this week, because its message so totally speaks to what I am thinking about these days that it seems heaven sent. It is by Mary Oliver, one of my favorite poets:
The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late enough,
and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world, determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

I have been going over the lines in the poem quite a bit. The fact that I can completely see myself in each of these lines gives me comfort, tells me I am on the right track. Though the path is parlous, the risks are the price that must be paid if you want to have any chance at your own life.

The Whole Catastrophe

You must know the adage," Be Careful What You Wish for, You Just Might Get It." Last week, I admitted that in stepping back from my current situation, I could see that significant changes were in order if I wanted to remain true to my words and myself for that matter. Apparently the Universe agreed with me and now those changes are now unmistakeably underway.I have had my Dog or Landlord moment. To be honest, those changes were a long time coming and if I look back to their genesis, the exact moment keeps retreating to another moment before that ad infinitum. These changes bring to mind another of my shibboleths, The Whole Catastrophe.
This phrase comes from Zorba the Greek, one of my favorite characters of all time. For those of you unfamiliar with Zorba, let me introduce him. We meet Zorba in a harbor waiting for our ship to sail to the small Greek island where our relative has bequeathed a small inheritance. We, at this point, are a rather inhibited teacher from the British Isles who spends way too much of his time with his nose in a book, watching and judging from the sidelines rather than living his own life. Zorba erupts into our life and proceeds to turn everything upside down, spilling all sorts of madness and delight on us. He is everything we are not- supremely confident,a lover of life, a con man, a boozer, a ladies man, a feast or famine sort of fellow. Zorba lives on the edge. He lives from risk to risk, sucking all the marrow out of life. Carpe Diem and all that noise. The Whole Catastrophe is his characterization of life, his recognition that real living means being able to surrender to not only the beatific, ecstatic joys but also the shattering pains and losses. Before we met Zorba, we are a play if safe, always in the middle sort. Life is never too high nor too low. After we meet Zorba, we find ecstasy , agony and all the fine gradations between.
So I find myself disentangling myself from the dire miresome middle, veering,cheering and careering back toward the edge of things where I know the center of all things exists. You can trust that I will keep you apprised of the situation.